#a little bit of tang to go with the sweet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 2 months

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 015 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. angst. physical violence (not to the reader.) manipulation. lying. angst. hurt and a little bit of comfort ig??

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 10.4k

series masterlist

[ FIFTEEN ] scattered ‘cross my family line, i’m so good at telling lies – that came from my mother’s side, told a million to survive. . . i can’t forget, i can’t forgive you. ‘cause now i’m scared that everyone i love will leave me

“This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

The tranquil song of the sea was deceptive. A vast expanse of silver under the soft glow of the full moon caressed Rintaro’s face, his handsome face heartbreakingly heartbroken. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a serene, almost ethereal light upon the two of you. On the distant coast, a lighthouse flickered, its beam briefly piercing the darkness before vanishing. The momentary light was enough to let you see – the truth, the split-second show of vulnerability within his eyes before it left only the memory of its glow.

Rintaro stood in front of you, at an arm’s length away but your heart worlds apart. The long line of spray marked where the sea met the land, its boundary evident. There, where the moon’s loght turned the sand into a luminous carpet beneath your feet, the waves lulled your racing hearts into quiet murmurs swallowed by the breeze.

You listened to his words – words that carried the weight of an ending unforeseen. Disbelief clouded your mind. You refused to accept what you just heard. Turning your head the other way, you bit down on your lip, hard enough you tasted the coppery tang of blood.

The rhythm of the sea was like the lilt of your heartbeat, steady yet trembling. It began, ceased, and began again, each cycle mirroring this endless round of circles you and Rintaro ran in – to loving, to hurting, to forgiving. Was this how ended? In a poorly-timed farewell?

You always knew this moment would come. Someone would have had to say goodbye. You just never thought the words would come from his mouth.

Your feet rooted deep in the sand, you listened to the melancholy refrain of waves crashing against each other. The moonlight reflected in the water, a silver path stretching into the unknown. You stood there, letting the sea speak the emotions too deep to be said out loud.

And what a moment it was – with the beauty of the night, the serene majesty of the sea, and bittersweet flicker of candles behind you.

It would’ve been easier if the sea held your sadness, with the moon as your witness in your quiet despair, the cliffs holding onto their stone each memory you knew you’d keep for many years to come. The night air, sweet and cool, carried away and brought with the wind your unshed tears.

This was a mistake. We should get divorced.

Rintaro’s words echoed in your mind, a cruel reminder that some stories, no matter how beautiful or tragic, all had its end.

“What did you say?” you licked your lips, forcing a smile despite the wobbliness of your knees. It couldn’t be, right? The night was going well. Fate couldn’t be so cruel – he’d just begun to love you. “I must have heard you wrong.”

Your husband turned away from you, his grip on the bouquet tightening. You watched as the flowers crushed between its force, its beauty drained with one just hand.

“You didn’t. I meant what I said – we should end this.”

“Why?”

His head snapped your way. “What do you mean, why?” he hissed, the bouquet slammed on the ground as he gestured to the air. His eyes were blown wide, frantic and desperate. “Look around you. Don’t you realize none of this feels right? Let’s drop the act, Princess. Neither of us truly want each other, and don’t tell me I’m wrong when I see the way you look at me.”

You reeled back, unknowingly clutching at your chest. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you’re thinking of ways to get rid of me,” he spat out with a laugh, “Like-like you’re looking for the man who courted you two years ago, the one you truly wanted to marry. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, because you’re not going to find him. He never existed in the first place. Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me,” his eyes blazed with fury, but then, as if the fire within him had been doused, his hands fell limply at his sides. “But you may find him in someone else.”

Rintaro’s gaze dropped to the floor. Sorrow filled his eyes, his expression softened before he spun on his heel. Turning away, your husband stepped forward.

“Take one more step–” you threatened him, hands balled into fists. “–and I will make you regret it.”

“Do your worst,” came his tired reply, his shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t care less.”

His steps were quick, as if he couldn’t waste any more time in getting away from you. It made blood boil within your veins. Before you could notice, you’d already crossed the distance in one breath, furiously grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him to face you. You were certain you look crazed – your face flushed, your cheeks damp with tears rolling down. He must’ve seen it too, his face falling at the sight of you.

“No! You think you can walk away from me? You think you can do all this–” you gestured to the beach around you, finding it harder to breathe with each word you spoke. “–buy me a house, tell me you envisioned a future with me, made love to me, and even prepared this dinner–”

“I didn’t do it for you. It was Kiyoomi who came up with this idea because he wanted to make you happy.”

Shaking your head, you shoved at his chest. “He wouldn’t do that. Kiyoomi wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, but I am for going along with it?” he snapped, closing the distance until his wrath enveloped you. “Get out of your head. Just because I did all those things for you, doesn’t mean they meant something. Are you forgetting I spent two years of my life trying to win you over, and I never once felt something for you other than tolerance?” When your face fell, triumph washed over his features. “That’s right. You remember now, don’t you? She’s the one I want. Everything I do is for her. Don’t forget your place.”

“My place? I am your wife. It’s my ring that you have on your finger. What place should I be forgetting? All of this is for me, you did this for me–”

“Oh, wake the fuck up, Y/N!” he bellowed, grabbing at his hair before he turned to glare at you. “I’m so tired of you going around acting like everything I do meant something. Has it never crossed your mind I could have just been bored? It didn’t, did it? Because you’re honestly foolish enough to let your guard down and believe that I wanted you!”

“Then why do all this if you didn’t?” you retorted, “You could become King as long as you married me and I gave you a son. You didn’t have to buy me a house, o-or act like you cared behind the cameras–”

“Well, are you? Are you with child?”

“No, but why does–”

“Then you have no hold over me. Marriage means nothing. This ring? This stupid fucking thing?” You glanced at the gold band at his finger, the one you watched roll over the floor on that day you gave it back to him. Rintaro hadn’t taken it off since, but now he looked at with resentment – like it suffocated him, choked him. “It means nothing. You cannot make me King if you don’t give me a child. And as long as you’re walking around without a baby in your belly, then you mean nothing to me. You have no purpose in my life.”

“So that’s what this is, then? Because she’s pregnant and I’m not?”

Rintaro’s face morphed into despair for a fleeting moment, so quick you questioned if you saw it at all. But almost as quickly, Rintaro’s posture straightened, his eyes hardening with steely resolve. Your breath caught in your throat – your suspicions confirmed.

So it was true. He knew.

And all of this – this house, that mocking conversation of building a family with you – it had been nothing but a cruel joke.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips. Stumbling back, your hands instinctively clutched at your chest as if desperately holding together the pieces of your shattered heart. The attempt was all for naught. The weight of betrayal crashed over you like a thundering wave. Each thought was a daggered stabbed to your soul as the pieces fit together – your husband, the one you loved, and his true love, now carrying his child.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision. You tried to hold them back, refusing to let him have the satisfaction that he’d succeeded in hurting you.

And it had been so easy, wasn’t it? He knew you so well, knew you like the back of his hand, that it came without too much effort that it was so easy to have you wrapped around his finger. One kiss, one tender touch, one proclamation of his so-called affections, and you would’ve broken your back bending to his will. He knew. He knew how easy it would be to win you over, and time and time again, you fell for it like the fool you were.

Everything burned. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

“You are cruel, Suna Rintaro. I regret the day I danced with you,” you gritted your teeth, digging your nails into your palm. Hard. “Perhaps you are right. We should get divorced.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’s for the best, even if it’s not what you think.”

“Because you can finally be with her, right? Your dream life is already coming true. You’re going to be a father, you’re going to spend a future with the one you love, and I’m hopelessly in love with you enough that I’ll just let it happen,” you smiled for him, clapping your hands together slowly and mockingly. “Congratulations. It’s everything you wanted. Things are finally going accordingly to plan. Should we open a wine to celebrate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop acting like a child. You knew what you were getting into when you caught us together and still proceeded with the wedding.”

“You still blame me for that after everything I did for you?”

The silence hung in the air. Somehow, his lack of response already spoke a thousand words.

Unable to help yourself, you glanced at the beach house behind Rintaro. It stood proudly against the backdrop of the setting sun, its white walls glowing warmly in the fading light.

The memories came flooding all at once – the laughter you shared, the stolen kisses when he thought no one was looking, the whispered promises of a life you’d never life. You could almost see them dancing in front of you, like ghosts of the past, lingering in the shadows of the porch and taunting you with the fact it had been too good to be true. So many dreams built, so many dreams shattered.

Your heart ached in ways it shattered you bone-deep. It echoed from your chest and reverberated down to your feet as you recalled the nights you spent wrapped in his arms. His hands on your cheeks, a small smile on his face – when he still looked at you like he loved you and meant it.

But now? Now, that love felt like a cruel illusion – a beautiful dream turned into a living nightmare. The betrayal cut deep, deep enough it left behind the harsh hand prints on your soul. The wounds stinging hard that it might never heal. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it – from the swing on the porch swaying gently on the evening breeze, the window that once framed your silhouettes when you welcomed the sunrise together. Each detail was a stab to your already broken heart.

A stray tear fell on your cheek. Brushing it away, hands trembling, you took a deep breath – forcing the salty air to fill your lungs. “Was… was any of it real?”

Turning away from the house was the hardest part. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of your memories were trying to pull you back. You cast one last, longing glance over your shoulder, your heart silently breaking anew.

Deep down, you already knew his answer. Still, it did not soften the blow when the words left his lips. It didn’t hurt any less when regret crossed his features, like somehow; a part of him wished it had been. “No. None of it was.”

“Okay,” you resigned, your body turned away from him, so he wouldn’t have to see be so pathetic anymore. When you finally spoke again, your voice came out as a breathy whisper. “You should go.”

You heard a slight shuffling behind you, followed by his mumbled words. “I never wanted to stay, anyway.”

When Rintaro walked away from you, each step he took was daunting, final. You didn’t know what hurt you more – the fact he never looked back, or the fact he never hesitated. But there was one thing that was made crystal clear to you now: it was never going to be you. How deeply unfair it was, that a man could say things he did not mean, do things he did not want to. How he could marry you and buy a house, and then turn you away at the next moment.

Love truly was a dangerous thing. It made you break down your walls, hopelessly and blindly handing your heart in the hands of someone, all while silently hoping they wouldn’t break it. And when it did, who would pick up the fallen pieces? Who would gather the shattered shards of your soul as it spilled like blood through his fingertips?

You didn’t have an answer for any of these.

Knees buckling, you fell into the sand, your palms sinking on it with its weight. You cried your heart out – the skies hearing your anguish as it echoed in the dead of the night. You screamed, begged, and called out for a God who never listened. The betrayal left a bitter taste on your tongue, a relentless ache that gnawed at your insides until it felt like nothing was left. As if you’d been hollowed out, bled out to dry, and discarded to the side.

You laid there for who knew how long. The flames of the candle had gone out, the food forgotten and cold. Sand had made its way into your joints and your hair. Your cheek felt crusty and hard from the dried tears. You cried and cried until there were no more tears left – watching from the horizon as the skies deepened into a darker shade.

Just then, a jacket fell on your bare shoulders. Stiffening, you raised your head from where you rested it on your drawn knees – blearily blinking at the figure before you. The man stood tall even with his legs bent, the faintest hint of spice mixing with the breeze.

Behind you, the Second Prince stood, his face devoid of any emotion. Yet, his eyes said it all. You are briefly shocked by how much you saw of yourself within him at that moment. The longing, the sadness – Kiyoomi wore his grief proudly. At the sight of you, his face softened. He offered his hands, one you took with no hesitance, and allowed him to pull you up to your feet. You two stood like that for a few minutes – unspeaking, and just staring at each other.

Kiyoomi was the first to look away.

“You’re cold. You shouldn’t stay out here,” tightening his jacket around you, the Prince suddenly pulled you in for an embrace. It happened too fast, faster than you could react. Before you knew it, your face was pressed against his chest, his heartbeat – strong and mighty – the only sound audible aside from the howling breeze. And you sunk into his hold as your tears stained his shirt, realizing a little too late how much you needed this – to be held so tightly like he feared letting you, like he could squeeze you hard enough and it would hopefully – eventually – piece back together the heart his brother had broken.

“Shhh. I got you, Princess. I’ll always be here for you.”

You’ve gone past the point of believing such flowery words. But when it came from Kiyoomi, you never doubted he’d keep the promises he’d made.

The once-vibrant beach house, filled with laughter and endless conversations, now stood in silence. Its walls held the unspoken truth that forever was not going to last. The gentle breeze that had always carried a promise of endless days spent in joy now whispered farewells through the rustling palms.

Rintaro had begun his farewells. Now, it was your turn to leave everything behind.

The Princes and their companions moved with quiet efficiency. Ever since that dreadful night, things hadn’t been the same anymore. No one spoke about what happened, but it didn’t take a fool to understand that romantic dinners weren’t supposed to end with you and Rintaro returning to the house hours apart – both miserable and mum. One quick look at you two, and the Princes began packing up.

Everyone knew their time had run up.

Casting a final, longing glance at the house, you breathed in the salty breeze one last time. The memories clung to you, each step you took feeling like a betrayal to the woman you could’ve been – the wife he could’ve had, and the mother you would’ve been. With a heavy heart, you watched as everyone loaded their luggage back to their respective vehicles, each one of them driving off. Their movements – along with yours – had been mechanical, as if the finality of their departure had numbed everyone to their core.

You looked out the window. The sun had began to greet the world with its morning kiss. The sea, once shimmering and glistening with spark-like waves, now seemed to mourn with you. The beach, scattered with the footprints of a happier time you’d said goodbye to, would soon be swept clean by the tides.

Any traces of the memories you made would be wiped clean by the world itself. If only it could give you a new beginning, too.

The journey back to the palace was somber. The rolling hills and distant forests passed by in a blur of muted colors – the world passed you by, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. If anything, the ride back felt like walking into your own death. A death march of duty and purpose. Speaking of duty… your hands cradled your belly. You weren’t pregnant, nor were you experiencing any symptoms. Rintaro knew this, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown it in your face that you were merely nothing but a breeding mare for him – and a failed one, at that.

The palace loomed ahead, its grand spires and imposing walls reminding you of your reality.

Back at the beach house, your emotions were valid. There, you were a brokenhearted person who longed for true love. Here, though? None of that mattered. The Palace was not a place for emotions. It was a pillar, the foundation of what the Crown held – power, victory, wealth, control. Here, you were a Princess, and a Princess should always hold her head high.

You couldn’t do it. Bile rose up your throat each time you pictured yourself walking down its grand hallways, the gold shimmering and blinding you. Just the mere thought of the Queen studying you with her observant gaze made you squeamish.

You turned to Rintaro. “Can we please head to my parents instead?”

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads. The Palace was already in view. Still, his gaze darted at you, and back at the Palace, as if seriously considering it. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped against his seat. “If you are doing this as an act of revenge–”

“I’m not. My parents truly did want to see us.”

Rintaro contemplated. Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger, gazing down at it with an unreadable expression. His voice was light, and whisper-like as he said, “You cannot tell them about the affair.”

You pursed your lips. You never planned on doing so in the first place. Crossing your arms against your chest, you huffed. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I never planned on ruining your perfect image.”

Rintaro didn’t bother with responding. Instead, he asked the driver to head back to the Yuzuru Estate, and quickly informed Her Majesty on the detour. It didn’t take long enough before you were surrounded by the familiar grove of trees that led to your place. The sound of wheels on cobblestone mingled with the soft murmur of the midday breeze. Outside, the manicured gardens and stately mansions blurred into a comforting embrace, their elegant silhouettes nostalgic. You couldn’t help but feel the need to reach out, to run your fingertips over the freshly mowed grass, or admire the shapely bushes designed to perfection.

You missed your home very much – one of the few places you felt solace in before your life turned upside down.

Pulling up into the driveway, your butler immediately opened the doors for you. There was a round of warm welcomes and joyful smiles. You’d missed them, too – all the loyal staff who took turns watching over you, even when they remained hesitant to properly acquaint themselves. Nevertheless, it was home. You greedily breathed the fresh air in, letting it fill up your lungs as you breathed out the darkness pooling at your chest.

The double doors opened, and the two of you were ushered in. A few minutes later, your mother came rushing past – a shawl drawled at the curves of her arms. A smile instantaneously, rising up from your seat to meet her halfway.

“My daughter, oh, how I missed you!” she laughed, the sound of it light and coloring up the room. Pulling back from the embrace, she cupped your face with her gloved hands – all her previous smiles slowly wavering. “My goodness, have you been eating well? Sleeping well? You look… different.”

You winced. It would be hard to hide things from her, but you had to try.

Leaning into her palm, you gave her the biggest smile you could muster – teeth flashed and all. “I’m okay, Mother. The Palace can just get a little exhausting sometimes.”

“Does your husband not help you with your duties?”

It was your father who spoke this time. He must’ve come straight from trimming the bushes; a sunhat covered his head, and he wore gardening gloves that were stained with grass and a miniscule of dirt. You didn’t miss the way his gaze leered at your husband. Rintaro was stiff behind you, having stood up as well as soon as your mother entered. “He does most of them, so I believe he is more tired than I am,” you supplied, pointedly ignoring Rintaro’s relieved sigh. Clapping your hands together, you walked towards your father with open arms. “But let’s not discuss any of that – how is everyone doing? I feel like it’s been forever since I last stepped in here.”

“Ah, no,” your father complained as he held you at an arm’s length away, “My clothes are soiled, and you are pristine. Do not bother yourself with getting dirtied.”

You pouted; your mother giggling behind you.

Being back at home was an instant medication. You hadn’t been here in months, yet the effect was evident – your shoulders felt lighter, your smile more natural. You’d stopped trying to think of Iris, too, yet you remained warily aware of your husband. And it was clear Rintaro was unsure of himself. He lingered longer on the doorways, his interactions with your parents more formal than it had been compared to the first time he called upon you. You couldn’t blame him for his discomfort – the question of his affair lingered on the air.

It was only a matter of time before someone addressed it.

A few hours later, with your stomachs filled with warm, homemade meals, you all moved out towards the back gardens. The garden stretched out in a lush expanse beneath the golden glow of the setting sun, each corner rich with the memories of your precious childhood.

Winding stone paths meandered through vibrant displays of blooming flowers – roses in shades of crimson and blush, peonies in soft pastels, and clusters of fragrant lavender. Elegant statues and an ornate fountain stood in the middle of it, their waters cascading beautifully. Majestic oak trees, their branches spreading wide in a serene embrace, provided cool, dappled shade – your signature reading spot from your teenage years.

You’d made many memories here; time spent with your father chasing you and your mother around as your gurgled giggles echoed through the air. It was also where your father taught you to use weapons (much to your mother’s distaste), and eventually, even a date spot when Rintaro wanted a reprieve from the public eye.

Rintaro and your father went ahead. Your father claimed he hadn’t properly worked out in a while, and that perhaps your husband could help him warm up. Beside you, you and your mother watched as the two men rolled their sleeves up to practice sparring. It’s a silly thing, but one you knew Rintaro enjoyed. He often spent time with your father like this when he was still courting you. They toyed with weapons, hunted birds, and sparred with one another. It was your father’s way of gauging Rintaro’s strength at first. Now, they simply did it as a way of bonding.

You smiled despite yourself.

You could still remember those times vividly, where warmth crept up your neck upon the knowledge your parents liked this boy you adored. You appreciated all his efforts, never once backing down from an absurd request from your mother, or another challenge from your father. Rintaro had proven to them, without fail, that he was dedicated in winning your heart.

He’d succeeded. It would be impossible if he didn’t.

He came every day, always at seven in the morning, with a bouquet of flowers that led you into reserving a room just to turn it into an indoor garden. He’d brought flowers for your mother, too, and you knew the moment she shed a tear at his sweetness, that he’d also won their hearts. The sweet ‘yes’ he’d been working hard finally came a year during the courtship. It was on that memorable night he’d driven you out for dinner – no drivers, no servants, no anything. Just you and I, he’d said with a smile, placing a kiss upon your knuckles.

It was the first night you’d kissed him, and the first night you stayed up awake as you lost the battle of trying to calm your racing heart.

If you’d known that early that his heart had already been occupied… No.

Even if you knew, even after you knew, it was too late. You were doomed from the moment he’d picked you out from the crowd. You’d resigned yourself to your fate when the throng of people parted for him as he made his way to you, wearing the most dazzling, lazy smile befitting for a Crown Prince.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You might’ve fallen in love the moment you stepped on his toes, and all he did was laugh.

“My dear,” your mother’s silken voice pulled you out of your trance. Smiling at her, you turned her way, silently sipping on the tea the servants had prepared. Before you, your mother twitched, playing with her fingers splayed on her lap. “I don’t mean to suddenly spring this up on you, but surely you’ll understand a mother’s curiosity and concern. So, tell me. Is it real? Is it true the Crown Prince is cheating on you?”

Your body froze. You’d seen this coming – known she would’ve asked one way or another.

“No, Mother,” you shook your head, dropping your gaze onto your lap in the hopes she wouldn’t see right through you. “His Highness would never. That article was already proven to be a hoax.”

“I see…”

You shared an uneasy silence. Seated across from each other, you stirred your tea absentmindedly, gaze drifting over the manicured hedges that framed the secluded nook. Your mother, poised and composed, sipper her tea with deliberate slowness. You could tell without looking at her that her inquisitive gaze searched for answers on your face. For signs of the truth you struggled to conceal with each passing minute.

The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft rustling of leaves did little to alleviate the tension, the silence between you two growing heavier with each unspoken word.

Finally, your mother set her cup down and sighed. “I still remember the day the Crown Prince came to call on you,” she began, her words delicate and careful. Her gaze flitted to the two men before you, still elbow-deep in their sparring. “Your father and I didn’t want to believe it at first. You were always beautiful, of course, but you were such a shy, little thing. We worried you might grow old without striking a conversation with any man, but a Prince? A Crown Prince, no less? We were over the moon,” she shook her head at the memory, a small smile playing on her lips. “But then your father and I both agreed you didn’t deserve any lesser man. There couldn’t have been anyone else for you. The Crown Prince was perfect.”

He was, you wanted to agree, he used to be.

“I remember that day, too,” you mused, the image of the Prince with his slicked-back hair and three piece suit flashing in your mind.

You’d expected he would look out of your place in the Estate, whatnot with the royal crest on his chest, yet he never looked more fitting – surrounded by your family portraits and delicately gazing at your childhood photos.

“He was especially handsome – I’d say even more so than when he showed up for the Palace’s royal events.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was clear he wanted to impress us, and you, especially,” teased your mother with a slight poke of her elbow, her face softening. “I remember it all, my dear. How he would always share with us his plans for the dates he’d take you on, how he always took you home at the exact time he promised he would. He was a perfect son, the perfect addition to our small family. And I could never, ever forget how you changed when you met him.”

“I changed?” your brows furrowed, before you shrugged in agreement. “I suppose I have. Being with someone like him… I had to be conscious and aware of everything I did. Do you remember that, Mother? When I begged you to come shopping for clothes for me when you knew I never was interested in any of it?”

Your mother giggled behind her hands.

“I was so happy that day when you asked me to come with you! I thought my sweet girl was finally growing into a mature woman. But that wasn’t the change I was talking about,” she continued, sliding her chair closer to yours. Her palm landed on top of your knee, and she slowly caressed there – just like how she did when you first scraped your knees. And how healing it was, a mother’s tender touch on top of your wounds. It made you want to rip your heart out and shove it between her fingers, to silently beg her to make it all okay.

“…When you met him, you became radiant. In love. You smiled more often, and you opened up a whole new world that the Prince showed you. There wasn’t a day you didn’t speak fondly of him. And you had that look on your face, sweetheart–” she ran a finger down the side of your face, her eyes glistening with tears. You couldn’t understand why she looked so broken. “–it was in your eyes. Everyone could tell how much you loved the Prince.”

You swallowed, the smiles you wore becoming more and more faded. “Mother, I still love him.”

“I know, sweetheart, I can tell,” she cooed. Prying the cup from your hands, she immediately held your hands in hers, her warmth soothing as it seeped through her gloves. “But I also know you’re not happy anymore.”

Your resolve began to crumble.

“Mother…”

Your eyes began to glisten with unshed tears that you struggled to keep at bay. Despite your best effort, the façade of composure slipped. A single tear escaped, trailing a path down your cheek – and just like that – a dam had opened. The door holding your secrets unlocked. It was hard – painfully so – to pretend everything was okay when it was not. You felt like a little child again. A little girl craving her mother’s soothing embrace, and you couldn’t help it – you launched yourself into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her shoulder as your body shook with each sob.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother patted your back. Judging by the way her body quivered under you, she’d been crying, too. “It’s okay, I promise. Please, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t handle seeing you like this.”

“Mother, it’s…” you bit at your lip, trying to muffle the whimpers that passed your lips. “I’m sorry, it’s true. I didn’t want to lie, or have to hide it from you, but Rintaro loves you both a lot and I was afraid you’d hate him–”

“Oh! Oh, my poor baby. Never apologize, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

You clutched her tight, her dress balled into your fists. A part of you told you that you should feel pathetic, that your actions weren’t Princess-like. That Her Majesty would frown at the sight of you and tell you to act your age. But you couldn’t muster the strength, not when your mother’s embrace was the only thing keeping you together – the only thing that told you it was safe enough to fall apart. And so you cried, your tears soaking her dress and the fabric wrinkling under your grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your mother’s sniffles was the last thing you heard before the sound of a fist connecting with skin resounded in the area. Pulling back, you gasped at what you saw.

Rintaro was lying on the ground, your father on top of him. Your father grasped Rintaro by the collar, delivering blow by blow to his face until blood spattered to the grass. Somehow, you managed to scream. The sound was ear-splitting as your heels hit the ground, clutching the ends of your dress as you ran for him. Rintaro wasn’t putting up a fight – his arms limp by his side, his head swaying with each merciless punch on his face.

“Stop!”

“You cheating bastard,” your father glowered, rearing his arm back for one final blow. “How could you do that to my daughter?”

“Father! Please, stop!”

The commotion caused servants to pour from every corner. The guards arrived, pulling your father back by the elbow as he struggled to free from their restraints. Meanwhile, your mother stood beside him – crying and dabbing her handkerchief at his blood knuckles. And you? You fell on the ground, uncaring that the grass had stained your dress, and loomed over your husband. “Rin,” you called out. A low groan was all you received, but it was enough. You breathed out a sigh of relief, immediately calling for the servants to bring some ice and towels.

“Get out of here! You aren’t welcome here anymore!” your father kept kicking and screaming, the sounds of your mother’s pleas falling on deaf ears. “I swear by the Gods your title won’t keep you safe, boy, you will regret it–”

“Get up,” hooking your arm around Rintaro’s elbow, you grunted at his weight. “Rin. Come on. Let’s go.”

Still dazed from being beaten, Rintaro’s legs wobbled underneath him. He groaned, finally wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you limped back to the house. Your father was still a screaming mess, but you knew your mother would calm him down eventually. For now, you needed to tend to his cuts.

You brought Rintaro up to your room. A servant had left an ice pack and some towels there already. Making Rintaro get rid of his bloodied shirt, he changed into one of your father’s – his wince displeased yet left with no choice. Once he’d changed into something clean, he sat at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped and his handsome face bloodied and bruised.

The air was thick with uneasiness in the dimly lit confines of your room.

The soft glow of your candlelight flickered across the ornate furnishings and Rintaro’s wounds. You worked quietly before him, finding there was no need to speak. His face, usually lacking in interest and graced with slow, lackadaisical smiles, was marred by a collection of bruises and cuts.

Your hand trembled slightly as you carefully dabbed a cloth soaked in cool water against a swollen cheek. The Crown Prince, despite his physical pain, looked even more vulnerable under the soft lights – his usual demeanor replaced by quiet resignation.

With delicate movements, you applied salves, ensuring your touch remained tender and soothing. It wouldn’t erase the hurt from his body, but maybe your care would make it ache less. Each gentle stroke of your fingers served as a silent apology for the pain he endured. And the room, filled with the faint scent of healing balms and the soft rustle of fabric, suddenly felt all too intimate.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of the bandages and the soft sighs coming from him. As you finished tending to his wounds, your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like he was that young man from two years ago – fresh-faced, and red-cheeked upon entering a maiden’s room for the first time. He’d been so nervous back then, his hands clammy and drenched with sweat. In reality, that man was just a fragment of who he truly was now – your poor, bruised husband who winced at every tender, caring touch. As if your love wounded him, and cut him in ways he couldn’t heal from.

As if he just waited for that finishing blow to come from you instead, to be his final damnation.

But it never came.

In that fragile moment, Rintaro closed his eyes, leaning into the caress of your palm as it hovered beside his face. This gesture you remembered – of him accidentally cutting his palm open with a letter opener years ago, and when you’d wrapped bandages around his wound. He did the same thing and leaned into your touch, only to kiss the insides of your wrist. He’d looked up at you from under his lashes, his lips full and ready to be kissed. And kiss him you did, because then he’d been yours, and you’d been his.

You didn’t pull away then. You couldn’t pull away now.

Using your thumb to stroke his swollen cheek, you sighed, the sound tired and heavy. “Did you tell my father? Is that why he beat you up?”

“No. We barely spoke during the spar,” he informed, tongue darting out to lick the dried blood off his lips. “But he kept looking over at you and your mother. I reckon he was just waiting for you to reveal the truth eventually,” just then, Rintaro chuckled, wincing when the motion made his cuts split further apart. His smile remained, however, and you drunk his features in – the way he tipped his head to the side, his eyes hooded, with just the barest hint of a playful smile. “You were never a good liar, you know that?”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “On our second date, you told me you didn’t want to watch the movies because you were worried people might crowd us. But it was written all over your face how much you wanted to.”

That, you remembered, as well. You found it impossible how a Prince – a Crown Prince – could simply saunter to the theaters like he was any regular man. He was right; you did want to. You’d never been to the theaters since it was always crowded, and you never did well in the dark. But you soon learned the dark wasn’t so scary when he had his arms wrapped around you. If anything, it felt elating – having the Prince play with your fingers, his gaze never really focusing on the movie.

Rintaro’s jaw clenched, more so in thought. “You always kept things to yourself, always did things for me even when it made you uncomfortable. Was it because I’m the Crown Prince that you felt you couldn’t be honest with me?”

“Not entirely. I guess I was just afraid that if I didn’t do what you liked, then you would lose interest in me.”

“That would never happen,” he interjected, “The moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted to marry.”

The realization dawned on him a little too late. His words carried weight with its double meaning, and he winced. The moment was broken. The thread snapped right in front of your eyes. Pulling away from him, you quickly gathered the bloodied towels and set it aside. You made yourself busy, fully aware of his eyes on you, but you wouldn’t dare look back. You had a feeling that if you did, your mind would run rampant again on the last time he’d been here in your room, when your sheets still smelled like him, and he’d fucked you hard enough on your bed that your bodies left an imprint.

You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry about what my father did.”

“It’s fine. I deserved every punch,” he shrugged it off, then smirked. “Although I’m probably less appealing in your eyes now. Bruised and all. I don’t look very Prince Charming-like.”

You snorted. “Since you wish for my honesty, then I’ll tell you now the whole Prince Charming act never suited you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I liked you better when you finally became more comfortable around me. You weren’t as poetic as when you first started courting me, but you were more… yourself. You were funnier, and a lot more charming when you weren’t trying so hard,” you broke that rule all too easily, and you did look at him. You looked at him, even if you could never see through him. “To me, it felt like I wasn’t dating the Crown Prince at all. I liked the unfiltered version of Suna Rintaro better. The one who enjoyed silences, instead of filling it with flowery words to get my heart fluttering. The one who preferred phone calls over texts because you wanted to hear my voice before going to sleep. The one who I considered my closest friend, the one I knew I wanted to marry, too.”

He was beautiful like this – his shirt hanging loosely at his broad shoulders, his arms slightly leaning back as it dipped with his weight on the mattress. His hair was tousled, the dark locks beautifully framing his face. And his eyes – hazel and more brown than green as the orange ember glows kissed him – were something you could lose yourself in for hours. For forever, even.

Suddenly, you wanted the world to end this way. You wanted time to stop if it meant picturing him like this, frozen and unguarded, beautiful and smelling like your perfume. You would’ve died a happy man if it meant this would be your last moment. With him on your bed, his clothes on your floor, and your ring on his finger.

You yearned for him so badly your body ached.

“Princess,” he mumbled after a pregnant pause, his voice coming out small as he said, “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Who says I don’t?”

The smile you pulled from him is lighthearted; unresevered. “Let me rephrase my question. Why do you still love me?”

Because isn’t that what love is? To know someone’s flaws, and to accept them as who they are? To see all your bad mornings and watch you stumble into the bathroom, clumsy and hazy. To see you at your worst, to choose arguments with you than silence with you. I thought that’s what love meant – to see the ugliness in another and to defy the impulse to turn the other way in search of another, the ‘someone better.’

You don’t tell him that. Instead, you offer another truth. “I wish I knew how to answer that myself.”

“I’m afraid,” Rintaro admitted, voice vulnerable and small. “I fear that one day, your hatred of me will consume you, and you will forget why you ever loved me.”

The candles cast soft shadows off his face, flickering like the fleeting time of the time you had with him. Each flame pulsed with the restless ache in your heart as you recalled the moments of closeness and intimacy that was half-heartedly reciprocated.

Your gaze drifted toward the space where he’d once lain beside you, the indentation in the sheets a painful reminder of the absence that now filled the void. You wanted to tell him you hadn’t changed the sheets since he last slept here. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, he still had his own pair of socks in your drawer, he’d left a wristwatch or two behind. He was here everywhere in your room, even if his heart wasn’t.

And it was so hard – so fucking hard – to accept that he didn’t love you.

Want me, you pleaded silently, at least want me. Just a little bit.

With slow, deliberate steps, your hand rested lightly on the bed’s edge, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric, as if permanently pushing the warmth of his presence back to the bed. Your heart ached with a bittersweet yearning for a heart that was never fully yours, a yearning that clung to you until it wrapped its fingers around your throat.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t leaving. He said he would divorce you, he said it was always going to be her, but he was here – in front of you, in your room. If you dared to reach out a hand and crawl close enough, you could fall into his lap and cradle his head to your chest. And it was exactly that passionate longing that would ruin you – because you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t resist from trailing your fingers up his arm, all the way to his face. His eyes were unreadable; his pupils dilated and his lips pulled apart.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

So you pulled him close. Grabbed him by the collar, and slid yourself into his lap until Rintaro was forced to scoot backwards to balance you both, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You breathed hard, shaking your head at yourself before your forehead knocked with his.

“Rin… Your Highness,” you corrected, rasping out the words. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong, and I know I could never have your heart but could you just – could you please hold me? Just for a minute, please. Pretend that you’re in love with me, I just–” your breath hitched when he squeezed your hips, to stop you or encourage you, you couldn’t tell. “–I just want to feel it again. That happiness I had with you.”

Rintaro hitched you up higher on his lap. Your chest crashed with his, and his lips followed. He tasted of blood and sugary biscuits. His taste, and his scent, flooded your senses until there was nothing to perceive but him.

And the kiss? It isn’t gentle. It isn’t soft. It’s desperate – lips bruising lips, teeth knocking with teeth, and tongues passionately grasping at one another. Your hands fly everywhere after that. Tugging at his hair, grabbing him harder by the collar to deepen the kiss. He swallows every sound you make, breathes them in like he needs them to live. So you give all you can and moan out his name – not Your Highness – and revel in the way he keens. He melts like snowflakes in the heat of your palm, like your touch burns him. You’re seconds away from dragging him back up on the bed when Rintaro suddenly shoves you off him. He flings himself upright and crosses the other side of the room in quick strides, the quick rise and fall of his back facing you the only thing visible from the dimly-lit room.

He didn’t need to say it out loud.

He’d regretted that kiss. Your heart broke once more as you sat at the edge of your bed. His rejection stung, even more so when he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Rintaro was shivering now as his head knocked against the window. Each breath he took seemed labored, as if even the act of drawing air was a struggle against the overwhelming sorrow that enveloped him. The air around him felt dense with the gravity of his internal torment, and your heart sank as you finally voiced out what he could never say out loud –

“…You really don’t love me.”

The silence falling over the room wrapped around the space like a heavy, suffocating shroud. the absence of sound was deafening. It pressed in on the walls and made each breath feel louder. Every creak of the floorboards or distant murmur from the outside was amplified, heavily echoed in the thick air. And when Rintaro finally spoke, it came with a tone of finality and unconcealed regret.

“I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears as you fixed your appearance. “Pardon me for a moment,” you began to exit the room, your hands hovering on the handle before you you’re your decision. “Your Highness… is it okay if I stay here at my parents? It’s just for a few days. I don’t think I can handle returning to the Palace anytime soon.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Rintaro did one final sweep of your room with his eyes. Something unreadable passed over his face. In the next moment, he cleared his throat, and opened the door himself. “I should leave. Goodnight, Princess. Please tell your parents that I left already, and I truly am sorry for the mess I caused.”

Rintaro was gone before you could say anything.

Just before his back disappeared from your line of sight, you saw something you thought you would never witness – Rintaro took two steps at a time on his way down, his frown pronounced as he wiped the tears off his face.

It unfolds like a badly written tragedy.

One moment, Rintaro is standing in the confines of your room, his heart racing with a desperate urgency that pulsed through every fiber of his being. He’d wanted to keep kissing you. Pulling away, and resisting his desire had to be one of the greatest pains he’d experienced, but he had to. He couldn’t keep doing this to you. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

That’s why he had to resort to doing the only thing he could think of in that moment – to run away and leave you behind.

Storming through the stately halls and out the grand doors of your estate, Rintaro pushed through. The weight of his regrets made each step harder to take, a burden that dragged him toward the waiting car parked outside the chill beginning to settle.

He jumped into the vehicle, ignoring his driver’s confused queries before slamming the door shut behind him. Inside, the car felt like a confining cell, its leather seats and polished surface now an inescapable prison of his own making. His hands, trembling with a mix of frustration and despair, gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity.

In a sudden, raw burst of emotion, his fist struck the steering wheel with a deafening thud. The impact reverberated through the car and sent a shiver down his spine.

Still, he kept going – each strike of his fist minimal in comparison to his anguish. He reveled in it, the sharp pain in his knuckles a fleeting distraction from the deeper, more consuming agony that began to eat away at him.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle. The air inside the car felt stifling, thick with the heavy scent of leather and the acrid tang of the remnants of blood at his face. His tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down his face and mingling with the sweat that dampened his brow. In the suffocating silence, his mind raced through a myriad of memories – from when he’d first kissed you, when he first held your hand, and the tender embraces he held you in. Each memory served to remind him of what he had now – nothing but a fractured connection, a strained marriage, and your fragile heart which he couldn’t protect.

Each image passing through his mind were tinged with bitterness. He recalled the warmth of your presence, the way your smile could light up the room, and the feeling of your hand in his.

He wished he could take it all back – to start from the beginning, to re-introduce himself to who he truly was. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was too late.

He’d gotten Iris pregnant.

Rintaro hadn’t mean to. Sure, he was careless and never used protection, but he thought little of it. Iris’ cycles were irregular and they never worried if she missed her period. She was always on the pill – all because of him, since Kiyoomi wouldn’t have touched her anyway. In another lifetime, Rintaro might’ve felt happy. Instead, he was filled with crushing dread. He couldn’t be a father, he didn’t want to be like his father.

And why hadn’t she told him? All this time… he foolishly thought she’d began ignoring him because it was a mutual, unspoken feeling that they’d just gotten tired. He never handled the media’s criticism well, and Iris wasn’t any better. She cared about her image and reputation more than anything – so why hide this from him? If he had known sooner…

What? his mind taunted, What would you do if you knew sooner?

Rintaro’s head dropped to the steering wheel. The voice in his head was right. He wouldn’t have done anything. Had he known four months ago, he would’ve celebrated. Had he known two months ago, he would’ve been upset, but choose to take responsibility in the end. But now? Now his decision was clear. Without giving it a second thought, Rintaro pulled out of your driveway and headed straight for the palace, dialing Iris on his way.

She picked up on the third ring.

“So it’s true,” he spoke to the phone, driving past the other cars on the highway in full speed. He should drive more carefully, but his blood was pumping loud in his veins – your touch lit a fire in him, and he needed that fire stoked. “You’re pregnant.”

A pause came from the other line. “How did you know?”

Rintaro gripped the steering wheel tighter, glaring at the phone even if she couldn’t see. “You’re heartless, Iris. How could you let my wife find out about it first before I did? Why did she have to tell me?”

“She told you – what? I never planned on letting you know about it, Rintaro. I don’t even know how she found out!”

“What, you were going to use that baby against me? Is that what you planned?” he growled at her, “You’re not keeping that damned baby – you’re getting rid of it right now. I’m not letting you fuck up my marriage.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it anyway! You’re absolutely insane if you think I’m planning to give birth to your filthy child–”

“Shut up!”

Rintaro ended the call. He’d had enough of her and her greediness. How dare she keep something like that from him, aborting his child before he even knew of its existence?

He stepped harder on the gas.

The engine roared in defiant response to his intense, almost reckless driving, its powerful growl a stark contrast to the stifling silence that enveloped the car. The air inside the car was thick with the acrid scent of tension and frustration, each breath he took feeling heavier and more labored as he fought to keep his rage contained.

His thoughts raced with the echoes of the argument, each harsh word and biting remark replaying in his mind like a relentless loop. The sting of her anger gnawed at him, fueling the fire of his own resentment. The images of her face, twisted in frustration, seemed to haunt the darkened windows of the car. Iris seemed to do that often – haunting him both in his dreams and a nightmare.

Rintaro couldn’t fathom why it was too late when he realized she’d never been a good person to begin with.

She was never his friend.

She only approached him because Rintaro was malleable. He was a blank canvas of a man, a lost Prince. He was nothing but an experimental toy for her. She’d kissed him, stolen his heart, and fed him lies that she’d give him what he wanted if he did what she liked. And he did – every fucking time. He drunk himself wasted, because Iris didn’t like drinking alone. He smoked packs of cigarettes for her even when he hated the taste of nicotine, because Iris got antsy without smoking. He fucked her hard and deep, and spent countless nights in her bed, because her husband never wanted to touch her. And what did he get in return?

Fake smiles. Sarcastic, mocking comments. A dry reply from his enthusiastic texts. A quick, good fuck if they were bored enough.

Iris never wanted him. She only ever wanted one thing: security. And when she was married to a Prince, and had another wrapped around her finger? She could do no wrong in the eyes of the throne.

As he drove, the powerful beams of the headlights cast fleeting shadows across the road.

The palace loomed ahead, its silhouette a distant promise of refuge that seemed increasingly out of reach. The anger that coursed through him was a force unto itself, a seething urge that refused to be quelled.

As he approached the grand gates of the palace, his emotions were spilling all over the place. He only had one place in mind: Belleview Manor.

Rounding a corner in the dimly lit hallway of the palace, Rintaro came to an abrupt halt. The reaction of his body was instantaneous: his breath caught in his throat, his muscles locking into place. Before him stood the Queen, her regal presence magnified by the soft, flickering light of the sconces lining the walls. Her silhouette, framed by the rich, opulent draped and the gleaming marble floors, seemed almost otherworldly.

She stood there, unmoving, like she’d somehow known he would be coming any minute now.

Rintaro’s head pounded in his chest. Cold dread washed over him, an icy hand clutching at his insides. The Queen’s serene yet inscrutable expression was nothing but an act, that he knew. In reality, her expressions were alien and foreboding. Her eyes, deceptively warm and reassuring, stared back at him like dark abysses, their depth hinting at the hidden complexities and secrets Rintaro had never cared to consider before.

He felt as if the ground beneath him had shifted, his already unstable world rocked by the revelation of a hidden side to his mother that he never perceived.

He stood frozen, a tangible sense of fear and anger enveloping him as he confronted the unsettling truth: the queen, his mother, was a mystery he had never fully unraveled.

The secrets she harbored, once a vague notion in the back of his mind, now loomed large and menacing, casting a long shadow over his perception of her. The fear that gripped him was profound and disorienting, a jarring contrast to the reverence he had always felt. His whole life, he’d only wanted one thing – to please his mother, to make her proud, to be a Queen’s son worthy of becoming the next King. His whole life he’d only done what he was told.

But in that moment, he was consumed by the chilling realization that the mother he had known and loved was a stranger, and the weight of her concealed truths left him trembling with a profound, unsettling fear.

“You,” he breathed out, his fear now overtaken by his sight going red. He felt mocked, humiliated, used. “Why did you never tell me?”

The memory of that night on the beach was seared into his mind.

He could never forget it – Iris’ sneer, the way her lips curled in contempt, as though he were something beneath her. Her words had cut deep, bleeding into his every being until the truth pounded at his veins. She had looked at him with disdain, her eyes cold and unfeeling, as she spat out how she’d never wanted to be with him, how she’d used him to cure her loneliness. A rejection born from a sick, twisted confession.

And now that he’d fulfilled his purpose in the bleakness of her world, he was nothing more than a disposable distraction. She’d called him worthless, a joke, someone unworthy of her attention – a prince in name but never in her eyes. The wind had whipped around him, cloaked around him like a glacial storm, but it was her biting words that had left him feeling exposed and small.

She’d delivered a stab to his heart that no amount of time could erase.

I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.

Didn’t you know, Rin?

You were never the King’s son.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro angst #suna x reader angst #haikyuu angst #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader angst #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #suna rintaro x you #kiyoomi x you #haikyuu x reader angst

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honeyed-hedonist · 3 months

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Parings: Jason Todd x afab!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: SMUT—MINORS DNI. mentions of blood, gore, and violence, oral (f & m receiving), lots of teasing, degradation (jason todd is a big meanie), a lil bit of a size kink if you squint (hims a big, big boy), an obscene amount of dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, jason has multiple orgasms (he’s got stamina, baybee), creampie, cum swapping, and, as always, declarations of love (barf). A/N: I wrote this for my sweet baby angel @heli0s-writes in a little fic swap we’re having because we like to scream at each other about all the fictional men we want to rail us into a pulp. I love you! I hope this makes your brain melt. Tehe 😈 (Reposting from my former blog)

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Jason Todd is a menace. The absolute bane of your existence.

Who does he think he is banging on your door at 3:45 in the morning? As if your neighbors needed another reason to gossip about you. Nevermind all the probing questions that were poorly masked as casual conversation when you were using the on-site laundry room or grabbing your mail. If you had to hear “So, you and Red Hood, huh?” one more time, you were going to rip your hair out.

But Jason has always been brazen—not much has changed since the day you found him bleeding out in an alley between your apartment building and the pet shelter next door. He had a gunshot wound, lacerations over damn near every square inch of him, his mask all but shattered and exposing most of his face to you as you did your best to haul his massive frame up from the ground to drag him inside and patch him up. He had grinned at you the entire time, flirted with you while you fished the bullet out, asked you to dinner as you wiped the grit and grime off of his neck and chest. He hasn’t left you alone since.

You love him, of course. How can you not? He’s 6’4” of muscled steel, all wrapped up in a handsome, roguish bow with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind. Any woman alive would be hard-pressed to resist his charms and you’re no exception, but it’s difficult to remember those warm, fuzzy feelings when he’s pounding on your door hard enough to wake the dead.

With bleary eyes, you unlatch the locks and yank it open, hissing at him as you fist your hand into the lapel of his jacket and tug him inside, ignoring the wide-eyed look on your neighbor’s face from across the hall. Your annoyance is overshadowing the rest of your senses, so you don’t see the tent in his pants, don’t notice his lust-blown pupils when he shucks his helmet off and throws it aside. Instead, you whirl on him, an accusatory finger pointed squarely at his chest in preparation to scold him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why couldn’t you just come in through the window? I keep it unlocked for this exact reason, Jason! You stubborn fucking ass—mmph!” His mouth is on you instantly—demanding and desperate as he crashes his lips into yours, uninterested in hearing your lecture. His gloved hands lift you off the floor in one fluid motion that has you instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips. You feel it then, the heavy, hard length of him trapped between your bodies and you gasp, an action that he capitalizes on by shoving his tongue past your teeth and into the back of your throat.

The tang of coppery blood fills your mouth and has you retreating, pushing back on his chest to look at him, but he’s right there chasing your mouth, walking blindly towards your kitchen table to set you down. “Jay—honey, wait. Are you—fuck!” His teeth are sharp against your throat, silencing your protest with the harsh sting of pain, grunting as he grinds his hips between your spread thighs.

“Shut up,” He growls, voice low and dangerous, sending your synapses into overdrive, drowning out what little restraint you have left. “Need to be inside you. Need to hear those sweet sounds, baby, just—let me.” Jason’s fingers are shaking when he moves to peel your shirt off, and you know it’s the adrenaline, that he’s high from the violence of his nightly patrol, teetering on the edge of losing control. These nights, you think, are the ones he needs you the most—seeking salvation with your body, tunneling his way to absolution with powerful thrusts of his hips, because if you can love all the fucked up parts of him, can love him even after all of his mistakes, then maybe, in his mind, he’s worth something afterall.

So you nod, your own hands making quick work of the kevlar and leather he’s covered in, helping him shed layer after layer of it off until he’s bare chested and heaving with labored breaths. It’s then that you notice the gashes that cut diagonally across his collarbone, the skin ripped in a way that makes you shudder. Claws? A serrated knife? You can only imagine the kind of monsters he grappled with tonight. His chest is smeared with congealed, drying blood, a trail of it leading down his stomach, seeping into his briefs and tactical pants, staining the tuft of coarse, dark hair that leads to his pubic bone an ugly shade of rust.

His eyes have turned shark-like—a depthless obsidian that makes him look possessed, the usual crystalline blue almost completely eclipsed by his blown out pupils. You should be terrified by the sight, the danger lurking within that endless dark, but your demons have always called to his, so all it does is stoke the flames now licking their way down your spine to pool between your legs. His gaze shifts the second your hands fall to your panties, exhaling a shaky breath as you try to wiggle out of them, to grant him access to the part of you that only he gets to explore.

Jason snarls then, swatting your hands away to rip the flimsy strip of cotton clean off, tossing it over his shoulder where it floats delicately to the floor in shredded ribbons of fabric. And then he’s on his knees, dropping to your floor with a loud thud that has the knick knacks hanging on your walls tinkling with vibration from the force of his herculean frame hitting the laminate. He scoots closer, boots scuffing your floor, the heat of his stare now focused on your puffy slit. Every exhale is a rumbling growl, hot breath fanning out against your pussy as he inches closer and you bite your lip, ready to muffle the sound you know he’s going to tear from your throat the second he puts his mouth on you.

Warm, calloused hands skate up the insides of your thighs, throwing them open even wider to accommodate the width of his shoulders when he leans in. Jason’s nose settles against your slit and he inhales, breathing in the musky scent of your arousal. It leaves you frozen in place, barely breathing when you watch his eyes roll back with pleasure. It sends your pulse straight to your clit and you whimper, the sound acting as a catalyst for him to dive in tongue-first and lick a wet stripe through your folds. He moans at the taste of you, a deep, salacious vibration of sound that rattles your bones. It has you hooking your hands around the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip, mouth slack when Jason’s deft tongue and plush lips begin to work you over.

He’s precise and purposeful when he eats you out—applying just the right amount of pressure, finding the perfect moments to snag that bundle of nerves with his teeth, gumming at your velvety cunt with his mouth, his tongue attuned to your every need. It takes him no time at all until you’re whining, begging like a god damn harlot, your fingers wound harshly into the roots of his hair, pulling him in, fucking yourself on his face. His girl. Perfect and needy, just the way he likes you.

But, again, Jason Todd is a fucking menace, glancing up at you with that wild look in his eyes, clocking the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the way you’ve got him pressed so deeply between your legs that he can barely breathe—he knows you’re close, can feel your thighs trembling against his ears. He waits, feasts on you until your eyes roll back into your skull, until he knows you’re about to rocket into a release—and then he stops, withdraws his mouth—a mouth that’s glistening with evidence of your pleasure, and offers you a sadistic smile.

“You thought I was gonna let you cum, princess?” He goads, swatting at your pussy hard enough that it sends you reeling, your body jerking with a yelp. “Nah…Tonight you cum on my cock and nowhere else.” Jason rocks back on his heels and stands, towering over you, crowding your space as he takes your jaw in his hand, his grip hard and unforgiving. “Do you understand me?”

There’s a war happening in your mind, because you know he needs this control, know he’s standing on a very dangerous ledge and you have to tread carefully, but fuck if you don’t want to cop an attitude, push him right off that cliff just to see what he’ll do. Seconds tick by like minutes, his eyes bouncing between yours, expectancy evident on his handsome face while you contemplate how much you value the use of your legs and whether you’ll need them tomorrow.

“I don’t take orders from you, Todd,” You spit, jerking your chin free from his hold. Curiosity has clearly gotten the better of you, and the fire your response sets ablaze in Jason’s eyes has your stomach flipping. His mouth curls into a wicked little smirk, and then you feel that same hand of his wrap around your throat and squeeze; hard.

He bends forward, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, tongue tracing the edge of the cartilage. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, hmm?” Your breath hitches at the gravel in his tone, and now you know without a doubt that you won’t be doing any walking tomorrow, let alone moving. Thank god you have some PTO saved up.

Jason’s spine straightens when he yanks you off the table, the movement so fast you don’t have enough time to process what’s happening until your ass hits the floor and you wince. “Well, would ya lookit that.” He mocks, palm slapping against your cheek before he’s hooking two fingers into your mouth to suppress your tongue. “Since you’re down there already—might as well make yourself useful, yeah?”

Fuck. Sometimes you forget the cruelty he’s capable of, the way he can talk so mean, degrade and embarrass you for the sake of your shared pleasure. It’s exactly what you asked for, and he always delivers. With blush stained cheeks, your face pinched in a glare, you reach for his pants, popping the button open, tugging the zipper down, and shucking the blood-stained bottoms and cotton briefs to his knees. What you’re met with has your jaw working, saliva pooling behind your teeth because goddamn is he hung.

Jason is fucking massive everywhere, so it goes without saying that his dick would carry some weight, but it still astonishes you every single time you see it. Bobbing invitingly in your face, angry red at the tip and oozing precum, veins prominent and pulsing along the shaft just begging for attention, his cock sits proudly above an even heftier set of balls, and you clench remembering just how good they feel smacking your sensitive clit when he pounds you out from behind.

His fingers are still playing against your tongue, sliding over the wet muscle until he breaches the back of your throat and you choke. There’s drool seeping past his knuckles, dribbling onto your chest, and he hums his approval, eyes glittering with the promise of what’s to come. One last pass of his calloused digits before he’s angling his tip and pushing his length into the wet heat of your mouth with a grunt. “This is a much better use for that mouth of yours, don’t you agree, princess?” Jason coos at you, pressing forward until your eyes screw shut, tears trickling down your cheeks when his cock seats itself deep in your esophagus. “That’s a good girl—open up that throat for me. Yeah, just like that—fuck.”

Soggy, spit covered fingers curl against the crown of your head as Jason begins to thrust, fucking your mouth. Your eyes are blurry, crossing each time he bottoms out, breathing harshly through your nose with every withdrawal, your palms digging into the meat of his thighs to keep you steady, to keep you rooted enough to take his assault. Over and over again he drives his hips forward, the slippery sound of the suction of your lips is so fucking obscene it makes you moan. That filthy, wet squelch ringing out as more saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth, bubbling up in sloppy arcs that web between your chin and his cock, matting into his pubic hair, commingling with the remnants of his blood.

You’re sure your face is stained pink from it by now, and you couldn’t care less, not when Jason’s face is twisted so beautifully above you—jaw slack and cheeks red, sweat marring his brow, hair curling at his temples and the nape of his neck. He looks so goddamn pretty when he loses himself in you like this that it makes the ache in your throat worth it, makes tomorrow’s hoarseness a welcome battlescar if only for the vision of him lost in the throes of violent passion above you right now. “Shit—m’gonna cum, princess. S’too good, I can’t—”

You slip your hand beneath your chin, between your bodies, cupping his balls, teasing them, rolling them in your palm, and he roars, bottoming out to cum down your throat. His cock pulses against your tongue and you wiggle it against his length appreciatively, humming while you swallow down spurt after spurt of milky semen until he’s pulling out with a hiss. Jason’s big hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up while he huffs. “Best little cocksucker, baby, but I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

Before you can blink. Jason hauls you up and deposits you right back onto the kitchen table, throwing your legs open. Letting out a low whistle, he drags the pad of his thumb up through your folds, swiping over your throbbing clit with a chuckle. “Such a pretty little pussy, hm? So eager, so fuckin’ desperate, clenching around nothing at all. You just wanna be full, don’t you?” He goads, slotting his hips between your thighs, letting the heavy weight of his dick slap against your sensitive pearl until you’re mewling, fingernails biting into his forearms.

“Jay—please,” You whine, your voice scratchy and rough, and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes make a slow trek up to meet yours.

“After your little performance? Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, but for now? For now you’re gonna put on a show for me. Let me see how you stuff that needy cunt when I’m not here.” He smirks viciously down at you, wrapping his fist around his length, pumping slow and languid while your face heats with embarrassment.

The weight of his stare presses down on you, hot and heavy, as you guide a trembling hand between your legs, fingers dipping through your slick, peeling your lower lips apart with a breathy sigh. Despite his bravado, you know how bad he wants to be buried in your heat, cock shoved so deep that the tip batters against your cervix. It’s that thought alone that spurs you on, two fingers pushing into that wet, hungry hole with a moan. You hook them upwards, seeking, pressing against that tender little spot that makes your back arch, fucking yourself while he watches, his muscles coiled in waiting like a predator about to strike. It’s maddening—no matter how fast or how hard your fingers work into your pussy, it’s not enough, it’s never enough and he knows it.

“Feels good, huh, princess?” Jason huffs, pumping his dick while he watches you, taunting you with his words. “But you want more—can see it on that pretty face. Those little fingers just don’t cut it, do they? Course not, you need more. Need this fat cock, don’t you?” The whine that pours out of your throat is meek and pathetic, because he’s right and you can’t hide from him—not when you’re splayed out so beautifully like this.

How many nights have you spent lying on your sheets chasing an unsatisfying release at your own hands. It’s never as good as it is with him, because Jason knows you. Knows all the ways to make you keen and writhe and burst. “Go on,” He says, “let me hear you say it. Beg me real nice and I might give you what you want.”

God damn him, you think, because he never makes it easy, not on nights like this when the battle is still fresh in his mind, when the adrenaline is still plowing through his veins. And god damn you if it doesn’t light you right up, heating the already charged air between you both. Your head falls back with a thud against the table and he tuts at you, pulling your gaze back where he wants it—on him. There’s a lump in your throat despite your fingers still working your cunt, the shame of having to beg both igniting your desire and stoking the fire of your petulance. Gritting your teeth, you spit the words he wants to hear at him with indignant venom. “Please, Jason. Want—need your cock. Fuck me, baby, just—” He chuckles darkly, free hand moving to grip your chin, his thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that.” Jason sucks a breath in through his teeth, his handsome face scrunched up with pleasure, and you catch sight of his other thumb swabbing over the tip of his cock, still rock hard and leaking between his clenched fist. “Try again.”

“Fuck!” You spit, fingers soaked as they dive in and out of your pussy with delicious friction. Swallowing what remains of your stubborn pride, you gaze at Jason from beneath your lashes, your eyebrows furrowing, features turning soft and pleading. “Please, baby,” Your voice lifts an octave higher—whiney, simpering—and it works. Jason groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck me, baby. Please fuck me. Need you, need that cock—please? M’so empty without it. Wanna cum all over you, Jason. Please!”

“That’s my girl,” He croons, tilting his head to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else, distracting you enough that you cling to him, fingers carding through his hair while the head of his cock prods through your slit until it catches on your opening and he drives his hips forward, stretching you apart in one powerful, rough thrust.

It forces a scream from your throat that he swallows, bottoming out until his pelvis rests flat against the pocket of fat above your pussy. “Fuck—give me your fingers, baby. Put ‘em in my mouth.” Jason commands, and you know exactly what he wants, bringing your damp middle fingers up to his face, letting him suck the remnants of your efforts from your skin. You watch, hypnotized, as his eyes roll back and he starts to move, his teeth sinking into the digits while he fucks you.

There’s nothing quite like having a cunt full of Jason Todd. The sting that comes from the sheer size of his dick, the way it stretches you to your very limits, those gummy walls forced open wide to accept every angry stab of his length. He bullies his cock into you, pounds hard enough that your kitchen table slides across the floor with each stroke. But he follows right along with it, hammering into you while his tongue slides between your fingers, sucking on them like a damn pacifier. It’s sinful, filthy, and raw—makes you absolutely feral, crying out for him over and over again, free hand dragging harsh lines down his muscled back so hard you’re certain you’ve broken the skin.

“Mhmm,” he hums, letting your fingers fall from his mouth. “I know, baby. I fucking know—swear to god you were made for me. Take my cock so fucking well—shit!” He growls, righting his posture and reaching for your ankles. Jason locks both of them in one hand, closing your thighs together, making you even tighter, the fat lips of your pussy peeking out between your legs. The sight has Jason grunting like a wild animal. “That’s my pussy, huh?” He asks and you nod, completely lost to the mind-numbing pleasure he’s supplying. “Know it is. Always gonna be mine, baby. Gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else. Gonna wreck it.”

The world shrinks until it’s just you and Jason, no concern for your neighbors who can undoubtedly hear the way your kitchen table knocks against the wall every time he pounds his dick into your pussy, not a single care other than him and the way he loves you—the brutal way he fucks you. Resting both of your legs against the side of his chest that isn’t cut open, he hugs them close, looks down at you, and god, you’ve never seen him quite like this. It’s mesmerizing.

And then he’s spreading your legs, pushing your shins up and into your chest, folding you in half. The new angle sends his cock even deeper, and you let out another rapturous cry, each stroke pummeling your cervix. He shushes you, fingers mashing your cheeks together in a tight grip. “Eyes on me, princess. Wanna see you fall apart.”

So you watch, helpless and at his mercy, when his free hand wedges between your legs, fingers seeking out the place where you’re stretched around his dick, stroking it lovingly before moving his attention to your stiff, aching bud. Jason tilts his head, dropping his chin to his chest, letting a drizzle of spit cascade down between you. It hits its mark, splashing against the hood of your clit and rolling down until he catches it with his thumb, sluicing it up and over your pearl.

“Don’t you dare hold back.” He commands, and all you can do is nod, tits practically tucked under your chin, body jolting from his incessant, endless assault. And then his fingers start to move and you wail. The friction is a welcome respite from the brutal way he’s handling you. Jason plays your clit like he knows what you’re feeling, flicking and tugging, applying enough pressure that the heat beginning to bloom in your belly burns hotter, a blazing inferno that’s about to consume you. “That’s it, let it out. Come on, angel, give it to me. Soak my fucking thighs.”

There’s always this brief moment before you cum—the universe stilling for the tiniest of seconds right before you unravel. You lock eyes with Jason in that instant, lip pinched between your teeth to try and muffle the noise you’re making. He nods at you, encourages you to let it go, tells you that he’s got you with just the look in his eyes, and it’s the truth. When time catches up to you in the next blink of your eyes, you fucking explode. Your back arches, knees slamming into your chest while you scream and quake beneath him. Jason wrangles you through your convulsions, pins your limbs to the table, coos and hushes you, lavishes you with praise while your cunt gushes around the intrusion of his cock. And what a fucking mess you’ve made.

His teeth grit when he feels your cum wet his stomach and thighs, dribbling down his balls, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for Jason. With a roar of your name, he pumps into you a final time before he, too, loses himself. Jason cums hard—so hard that he damn near goes blind and deaf, vision whiting out, ears ringing as he empties himself into your swollen, fucked out pussy. It’s endless, the thick ropes of spend that now paint your insides. So much that you can’t contain it, a few errant, creamy strands dripping out of the place your bodies are joined.

When he blinks his eyes open again, he catches as much as he can on his fingers, licks it into his mouth, and yanks you into his arms to kiss you. You’re barely conscious, but you kiss him back anyways, and Jason can’t stop the smile that curls his lips as he feeds you his cum from the tip of his tongue. Brushing your sweat matted hair off your forehead, his smile widens, peppering your reddened face with kisses. “You still with me, baby? Or have I fucked you stupid again?”

A halfhearted swat to the side of his head is your answer, and he laughs, the sound warm and infectious. There’s something so sweet about his laugh, it’s always made your chest swell, deep and gruff and perfect—just like him. You both stay locked together, his arms around you in a tight embrace, until your mind finally floats back into your body enough for you to remember how to be a person again. “Hey—as incredible as that was, and don’t you dare get an ego about it—you’re still very fucking injured, Jason.”

Another laugh, his lips smacking against yours in a final peck that has you grinning right back at him. “Yeah, alright, I hear you, boss.” Jason teases, right before easing his softening cock from inside you. There are wounds that need tending, but he’s not quite ready to let go of this moment, feeling whole with your body wrapped up in his arms. He presses his forehead to yours once more, warm breath fanning out against your heated skin. “I love you, baby.” He whispers it, soft and sweet, your heart melting at the declaration.

It’s a sentiment you return without hesitation, arms moving to cup his face—your whole world now held between the palms of your hands—and tilt his face back to level him with your stare. “I love you,” you answer, conviction heavy in your voice as you brush your nose against his “always.” Jason’s breath hitches in his chest, because nothing on this earth could have ever prepared him for the peace, the utter tranquility that loving you and being loved by you has brought him. Despite the lump in his throat, the tears misting his gaze, he echoes “always,” right back to you, kissing you tenderly until you’re both dizzy, until the world around you fades once again, until all that’s left is you and him. Just the way you like it.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #fanfic #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #DC comics

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writingsbychlo · 1 year

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SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 01

summary; azriel is lonely, and goes to the pleasure house. he doesn't get very far before his world is flipped upside down, and he's not the only one.

word count; 7646

notes; working title. working fic. everything is just a work-in-progress. not sure how I feel about posting this, so if we all hate it, lets not tell me, okay? because I love it. I just didn't know if I wanted to share it.

You stared up at the building before you, nervously tugging at the hem of your dress. Your lungs would barely open to take a breath, every pounding note of the music from inside reverberating out across the pavement seems to shake you to your bones, and your heart was racing so fast it might tear right out.

The smell of alcohol spilt out across the street, and the sweet tang of mirthroot smoke sat heavy in the air. It was cloying, probably even thicker inside. A voice cleared, impatient and deep, and you jolted out of your thoughts.

“You’re blockin’ the fuckin’ door.” He growled, words already a little slurred, and your cheeks heated as his gaze leered across your body, a smirk forming on his lips. “‘Less you’re goin’ inside? If that’s the case, let me escort you.”

“No, no. I’m— you go ahead, please.” Your words could barely be choked out, the male rolling his eyes at you before swinging the door open and stepping inside, the music loud enough for a split second to shock you once again. Stumbling back a couple of steps, your body slammed into someone else, a squeak leaving your lips, and your eyes began to sting at the overwhelm of emotions now. “I’m so sorry, I’m in the way, I’ll just—”

“Are you alright?”

A pathetic laugh left you at the question, beyond your control as the wet sound of your inevitable tears leaked into it, despite your best effort to keep them at bay. “No. Nothing is okay, not even a little bit. Everything sucks, actually. Everything is shit, and I’m scared, and I hate it. No, I’m not alright.”

With a heaving breath, one that seemed to shake through every cell in your body, you hauled a watery gaze up to the owner of the deep voice and ridiculous question. And up, and up. Good God’s, he was tall, even in your stupid heels. He had a sharp jawline, lips pursed in a flat line, a straight nose, and thick brows raised in silent question. Or judgement, you really weren’t sure. No matter what, he was one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen, though. What he was doing here, you had no idea.

“I’m sorry. You should— you’re going inside, right? You should go inside, don’t let the sobbing girl in the street ruin a very fun night for you.” Stepping to the side, and raising your arm to wave at the club, he didn’t budge, and your gaze tracked back to his.

“You’re not going inside?” His sights dropped, scanning along the material that could barely be called a dress, that you’d had to buy from a lingerie store just to be appropriate, and you still felt exposed. Warmth rushed to your cheeks once again, that lump returning to your throat, and you shook your head.

“No. No, I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t work here?” His tone wasn’t so flat now, a slight tip of curiosity, and you shrugged.

“I was… hoping to. I was trying to work here, but I’m not sure I can make myself do it.” Your lip wobbled. “Not that there’s, y’know, anything wrong with it. Gods, I respect those who do it and I wish I had their confidence, everything would be a lot easier for me if I could, but it’s just not who I am.”

“So, if you don’t want to work at the pleasure house, why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” You shot back, and his stare pinned you. Observant, invasive, intense. It was enough to make you crack after only a second. “Why does anyone do a job?”

“Money?”

“Correct.” Blowing out a breath, you crossed your arms, the adrenaline wearing off as your decision was made, back turned to a club you wouldn't enter. The cold was beginning to leak into you, to take hold. “But, I guess I’ll just figure something else out.”

He watched you for a second longer, before slipping off the leather jacket he was wearing, over proud wings that were tucked tight into the darkness behind him. Swinging it around your body to settle over your shoulders, your first thought was that it was heavy, and large, but warmth soon followed, like a blanket by the fire on a cold winter’s night.

“Thank you.”

“Would you like me to walk you home?” His hands stuck into his pants pockets instead, black skinny jeans that clung so tightly to his thighs it should be a crime, and you had to force your gaze away.

“You, uh, you’re not going in?”

“I’m getting everything I need right here.” Panic shot through you, your whole body tightening for just a second, and his eyes widened, those lips finally parting in shock and he shook his head. “That’s not— I’m not implying anything is happening here. You don’t owe me anything, fuck, okay—” He took a deep breath, head tipping back to stare at the sky for a second, and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if I can go in, either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So, I’d really rather walk you home, if you’ll let me, than stand out here in the cold for another hour debating my choices.”

Your lips flicked up at that, the first real smile you’d had in weeks threatening to spill over. What happened to your tears? “You’ve been out here even longer than I have.”

“I know. I saw you arrive.” A smile pulled at his lips too. With a single glance down the street, the not-so-good part of town you’d ended up in, and caved.

“You promise not to, like, murder me, or something?”

A laugh burst from him, sudden and rough, like he wasn’t used to making such a sound, but something in his eyes flickered.

“It’s not funny! Weren’t you ever taught about stranger-danger as a child?”

“No, we weren’t really taught that in the camps. They skipped right over trust, to how to stab someone in the back.” Your throat dried up for a second, before seeing the smirk still sitting on his lips, and you scoffed, a curse muttered under your breath that only made him chuckle more. “Alright, fine. I’m Azriel, and I promise not to murder you.”

A sharp sting on the back of your neck made you gasp, your hand flying to it, and your eyes widened. The burning sensation lasted only for a second, before fading to nothing but a tingle. “What the fuck was that, what did you do?”

“You made me promise!”

“And?” You pressed, fingers tracing the spot. They came away clean when you examined them, and while the skin was smooth to the touch, you could feel whatever had happened.

“You’re not from the Night Court, are you?” Amusement and curiosity wrapped his voice, and you shook your head lightly. “That would be your promise mark. Making a promise brands you, here.”

“What?” He tugged down the collar of his shirt, and even in the darkness, you could see slashes of dark ink across his collarbone, swirls and shapes. Your hand came up, before you could stop yourself, rocking onto your tiptoes to get a closer look, and tracing one finger across a whorl softly. “You’ve made a lot of promises.”

The clean, earthly smell of him filled your nose, and you backed away from him, letting him slip his shirt back into place as he watched you closely.

“Your hands. Are they promise brands too?” Those same hands formed fists by his sides, arms twitching to tuck behind his back and hide, and you could see the effort it took for him to straighten them out in the space between you instead. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn't have— that was so insensitive of me. I’m sorry, Azriel.”

“They were a promise of a kind, but not the marks the magic of this court gives you. These were promises from my step-brothers when I was a child, promises that worse would come. Worse could come.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, his sights fixed on his own marred flesh now as he turned his hands slowly, over and over before himself. Cupping his hands softly, your palms met his, thumbs smoothing across the rough skin. “I hope you gave them some promises of your own.”

“I did.” His voice was something darker, something sharper, as if daring you to be scared by it. By him. Your hands only squeezed a little tighter around his own.

“Good.” The moment lasted a little longer, his hands flexing briefly around your own, before he was pulling them back. “Do you still want to walk me home?”

“I do.”

“Well, I think I’d like that.” He only smiled again, offering you his arm, and you freed one hand from underneath the layers of leather to loop your own through.

Ambling down the sidewalk, you got as close to his side as possible, stealing both his heat and his protection as drunken fae stumbled past you on all sides, the streets filled with broken glass and litter. It was the worst part of the city, every Court had such places but you’d never thought you’d wind up living in such a place.

With Azriel by your side, even for the short walk it was, people seemed to steer far away from the tall, powerful man who was keeping you company. You’d received countless leers and stares since leaving the house in this outfit, but now, they didn’t even dare to look at you. The safety was something you’d never felt before, and you’d miss it when you were alone again in your apartment tonight, behind a door that didn’t lock and had a chunk missing from the bottom.

Slowing down on the pavement before the place you currently called a very begrudging ‘home’, you avoided a pile of vomit on the street, cringing a little internally and hoping Azriel hadn't noticed it. You weren’t sure why you were so bothered by his opinion, but you were.

“Well, this is it.”

Azriel paused, glancing up at the decrepit building you’d come to a stop before. The windows were boarded up along the bottom floor, graffiti lined the walls, and there were stains on the bricks you’d never bothered to question. Azriel took it all in, and shame flooded your body. The coat wrapped around your shoulders was probably worth more than several months of your rent here.

“Thank you for walking me home.”

“You can’t be serious.” He continued to stare, up and up at the several layers, to the open window with shouting pouring out from one of the upper windows. “You can’t live here. We haven’t even left—” The bad part of town.

He cut himself off, but the words still sounded out between you both. Slipping his coat from your shoulders, you held it out, but he didn’t take it. He didn’t even look at it, still staring up in disgust at the apartment building. “Gods, this place makes Nesta’s last apartment look like the Townhouse.”

“What?”

His focus moved back to you, like he hadn't realised he’d even said that out loud, before shaking his head. “Would you like to have a coffee with me?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” The offer shocked you, but sparked a little warmth, like despite every shameful thing he’d learned about you tonight, he wasn’t disgusted by you yet. “When?”

“Now.”

“But nowhere will be—” His hands came out, holding softly to your elbows and tugging you closer, before cold shadows seemed to dart from every corner of the street, wrapping you in a black bubble. The earth seemed to fall out from under you as your vision was lost, everything was silent and cold, before you were stumbling in your terror, and the shadows moved again. “What the fuck just happened?”

The coat dropped from your hand, crumpling to a pile on the street as you stumbled backwards. Only, this wasn’t your street.

The faelights in the lampposts didn’t flicker in their stained yellow glass, but were a clear and bright white. No cracked street tiles or shouting, nothing but peaceful moths batting at the glass, and several houses lined up, spaced far from one another along the street. It wasn’t dark or damp, broken and stained, a part of the city you’d never even seen before. Only one row of houses lined the street, so far between each house it would take you ten full minutes to walk to the next, the Sidra bubbling quietly behind you over the bridge.

Azriel dipped down, picking his jacket up from the ground, and when he took a step closer to you, you took one back, a shaky hand coming up between you both to hold him away.

“Where are we? What the fuck just happened? Why am I here?”

He sighed, shoulders straightening a little. “It’s called… well, I don’t know what it's called, because I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can do it. It’s like winnowing, only with my shadows. I’m a shadowsinger, I control them.” As if to emphasise his point, the darkness lingering all around you on the street swirled slowly, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the darkness move. “You step into the shadows one one place, you step out of them in another. I brought you here for coffee, but that was just an excuse, if I’m honest. Really, I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving you in that place.”

“That place is all I can afford.” You muttered, arms crossing over your chest, a dull pound in your head as you tried to process every overwhelming piece of new information. “So, what are we doing here?”

“I live here.” He stepped up onto the pathway of one house, the gate squeaking a little as he pushed it open, and your jaw fell slack, staring up at the towering estate before you.

“Here?”

“Yes. Now, will you please come inside?” Tipping his head to the side, that smile was back, and you couldn't resist it, the pull toward him as your feet carried you in cautious steps.

“Fine, but I don’t actually want coffee. I hope you have tea.”

“I have plenty of tea. So many flavours that you won’t know what to pick.” His grin only widened as you stepped through the gate, letting him close it behind you, and following you up towards the grand house as you put every effort into not making a fool of yourself in these ridiculous heels. As you reached the porch, he swerved around you, producing a set of keys from his pockets and unlocking the door, holding that out for you too. “Welcome to the Bridge House.”

“That’s a pretentious name. All of these houses are on the river, and none of them are on the bridge.” You muttered, his chuckle following you inside as fae lights came on automatically, lighting along the long hallway, giving a muted glow to the space. He shut the door, and you spun to face him, watching as he clicked all of the locks securely back into place.

“I know, but Rhys likes to name all of his houses, and he wouldn't let me change it even when I bought it.”

“Rhys?” You echoed, deciding to skip right over the display of wealth you couldn't even begin to handle, and copy his actions, toeing off the shoes that had been torturing your feet for hours now, and giving a soft sigh when your feet flattened on the floor.

“My brother. Not biologically, but, it’s what he, Cassian and I like to call ourselves.”

With a warm hand on your lower back, he softly began to guide you through the house and into the kitchen, but the names lingered in your mind. “Cassian… Rhys— oh, fuck, as in Rhysand? The fucking High Lord?”

Azriel only smirked at your outburst, stepping away from the island counter in the middle towards the kettle sitting neatly on the stove. “So, their names you recognise, but mine you don’t? I’m almost offended.”

“Well, isn’t that supposed to be the point, spymaster?” You growled the word out, knees feeling a little weak underneath yourself, and you braced your hip against the counter. “Oh, Gods, this is so inappropriate. I can’t be here! You’re a part of the Royal Court, you’re—”

“I’m just Azriel, to you.” His voice had gone soft once again, pulling two mismatching mugs from the cupboard, and watching you cautiously.

“I’m wearing lingerie!” You burst, voice too high and shrill to even be remotely calm, and he clicked his tongue.

“I'm aware. You look cold and uncomfortable. Would you like something to change into?”

“Would I…” It was surreal. It was a dream. None of this could possibly be true. “I can’t be here!”

“Why?”

“Because… because you’re Azriel, the spymaster! You literally call the High Lord brother, and I am a pleasure house worker who can barely afford rent in the shittiest part of town, I came to your house in a pair of stupid heels that I had to tape the sole back onto, in a dress that barely even qualifies as underwear! Your jacket could probably have bought my whole apartment outright, and—” Azriel crossed the room before you could even process it, hands sitting on your waist to scoop you up and deposit you onto the counter just before your legs could give out fully. He planted his hands on the outside of each of your thighs, planted himself between them, and his nose practically brushed your own. “What are you doing?”

“Take a breath. You’re panicking. You’re going to give yourself a panic attack.”

“I think we’re way past that.” You whispered, but did as told, trying to take a shaky breath to match the one he took. You did it again, and again, each breath calming you a little more, but it didn’t help the chaos in your mind, just helped to slow your heart a little. “Azriel, c’mon, you and I both know it. I should go, and we should just hope none of your neighbours saw, because it’ll ruin your reputation.”

“My reputation is destroyed anyway. If anything, you’ll be wanting to hope nobody saw you with me, once you learn about me.” You rolled your eyes, head tipping forward to lean on his shoulder, and he slipped one hand up to rub softly along your back. You could feel everything, the sexy dip of the dress barely covered your ass now, and more embarrassment flooded through you. “Besides, you’re here now. You might as well stay for that tea. It’s not like anyone can see you in here, you’re not on a timer.”

“Okay. Just one cup.”

“Just one cup.” He confirmed, lingering for a second longer before pulling away. Disentangling himself, he filled up the kettle from the tap, setting it off on the hob. “What flavour tea would you like?”

“What’ve you got?”

Hopping down from the counter as he beckoned you closer, it was only when you were by his side that he opened a double-standing cabinet, both of the doors slowly opening on a hinge, silent as ever, to reveal the jars of loose tea within. Each one was lined up meticulously, labelled with the flavour of tea and the benefits underneath, your jaw dropping. “Told you I had plenty.”

“You could run a tea shop with this stash!” Your elbow flew out, nudging into his ribs to dim his laughter. “I have no idea where to even start. Why don’t you pick?”

“Alright.” Instead of getting one out, though, he closed the cupboard doors, backing you away from it slowly. “It’ll be a surprise, but how about we get you that change of clothes first, huh?”

You glanced down at yourself, giving into the urge to finally feel settled in your own body again, chin dipping in a single nod. His hand slipped into your own, warm and sure, before he was tugging you along behind him, and guiding you through the house. Up two sets of stairs, past far too many different rooms to count, before stopping at the doorway to the grand bedroom. It had double doors, for fuck’s sake. The one bedroom itself, as you entered, was bigger than your entire apartment had been.

Clean, simply decorated and organised, and extremely homely, a sigh left you as you took it all in. “This is your bedroom?”

“Well, I am the only one who lives here.” He teased, dropping your hand and leaving you to observe in the centre of the room, as he made his way over to one of the wardrobes.

“Really? I couldn't tell, what with this place being the same size as my entire apartment building.” He laughed, and you hardly had time to turn and see the smile that would be accompanying it, before soft material was smacking you in the face, and falling to the floor. You looked down, agape, to see a soft blue t-shirt sitting in a pile at your feet. “Did you just throw that at me?”

“That’s what you get for sassing me.”

He opened another drawer as you crouched to pick it up, shaking it out to hold the material in front of yourself. When it was lowered, he threw something else, another bundle you were just quick enough to catch this time, but it didn’t stop you from scowling in his direction. This time, it was sweatpants, thicker and black in colour.

“I’ll give you a chance to get changed, and I’ll be back.”

He was gone, the door shutting gently behind him, and he was absolutely silent as he walked away, leaving you alone in his bedroom. It was an odd feeling, to say the least. To be trusted so deeply with someone’s things, when they had no reason to be, and Azriel didn’t read to you as the easily trusting type.

Then again, neither were you, and you were somehow still confident that this wasn’t all going to end with your untimely death. Your toes sank into the plush carpets, sore patches on the backs and sides of your feet already threatening to be blistered by the morning, and this dress had been irritating your skin since the moment you’d put it on. Cheap material, but the best you could afford.

Slipping open the ties across the front one at a time, the dress came loose, enough for you to slip your arms out of the tight sleeves, and begin to shimmy it down your body, feeling less than elegant as you worked your way out of it. Perhaps it was a good thing you hadn't gone in, you certainly weren’t cut out for this kind of work. How anybody could make peeling themselves out of that sexy was beyond you.

Azriel’s shirt was built to accommodate his large frame, with panels in the back that buttoned up for his wings, but even once it was on, with those few slits down the back, they revealed nothing compared to the dress on the floor at your feet. You didn’t feel so exposed any more, so vulnerable, and as you slipped the sweatpants up your legs to tighten at the waist, you finally felt more like yourself again.

A sigh slipped past your lips, hands smoothing down along your covered body, warm and comfy once again. You hadn't felt this settled in a long time, and already, Azriel’s house was feeling more like home than your shitty apartment ever had, and ever would. Scooping up your dress and folding it neatly into a flat square, you laid it atop one of the dressers, beside a half-burned candle and a book.

You were sniffling the candle when there was a knock at the door the knob twisting slowly.

“Can I come in? Are you, y’know, dressed?”

“I’m dressed, you can come in.” He nudged the door open, a tray in his hands, stacked up with pottery and plates, and you placed the candle back down to help. He didn’t need it, though, resting the tray down on the small trunk at the end of his bed, and straightening up. As he turned to you, his gaze found you again, running far more slowly along your body than he had out in the street, and the smile you were becoming fond of formed on his lips again.

“Feel better?”

“So much better.”

He patted the silky quilt on the end of his bed. “Come sit. I made cranberry and spiced apple tea. It’s very calming, a good late-night tea.”

“Sounds delicious.” Your legs crossed as you perched atop the plush mattress, a bed larger than you’d ever seen before as you took it in, spanning your gaze across the entirety of it. When you turned back, Azriel was pouring you a mug, watching.

“It’s because of the wings.”

“What?”

“My wings.” He flexed them out behind himself, stretching them taut to their full, glorious length, and your hands shook a little in awe as you took the mug and saucer from him. Black, leathery flesh was thinner in some places, enough to glow a softer purple and red as the light shone through, some patches had tendons and veins visibly moving under the skin, marred patches of scars in the shapes of slashes and arrow piercings. “So I can stretch them out in bed and they don’t touch the floor.”

“They’re sensitive?” You wanted to reach out, to trace one of the scars sitting right at eye level, to ask what had caused it, but he only chuckled. As he poured his own mug of tea, he pulled them back in, hanging comfortably behind his back once again.

“Very sensitive. You can bring an Illyrian male to his knees with just one touch in the right place.”

“This feels like top-secret information. Surely you shouldn’t be spilling all the ways to hurt an Illyrian male to me?” You teased, and he uncapped a jar of honey, his smirk growing as one brow raised at you.

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“Of course not.” He added two spoonfuls to his mug and stirred, before offering it to you, a fresh spoon to follow, and you accepted the scoops he made.

“Then why shouldn’t I tell you?” You had no answer to that, instead grinning into your tea as you stirred it, watching the ripples form as you tapped the spoon against the edge, and rested it on the saucer. Steam curled up from it, and as you raised it to your lips to blow, he hummed. It smelt so good, your mouth watered. “Besides, who said you’d be bringing me to my knees in pain?”

You jerked, gaze snapping back up to him, before a splash of the tea spilt over the edge of your mug, hitting your thigh and dripping onto the covers below, creating a small wet patch. “Azriel!”

He only laughed, your cheeks heating at his innuendo, but the flush on his face was worth it, even if he was laughing at you.

“Now look what you made me do, there’s tea on your covers.”

“Sweetheart, seeing that reaction would have been worth it if you’d spilt a bucket of mud on my bed.” Your cheeks flushed again at the drawl of his voice over his words, even if he didn’t know he was doing it, your heart jumping in your chest.

“I still might, as revenge.” Muttering your words didn’t make him miss them, laughter starting anew, and you hoped he at least couldn't see the smile the sound gave you as you sipped your tea. You finally let your eyes move to the tray, noting the large teapot sitting in the centre, the used pot of honey and your spoons, and the small plate stacked up with shortbreads. “Would it be already if I had one of those?”

He tracked your gaze, nodding rapidly when he realised and presented the plate to you. “I don’t normally have food in my bedroom, never mind my bed, but, I didn’t know when you last ate. I didn’t want to assume, and start cooking a whole meal, but I can—”

“Azriel.” His lips pursed shut, this time it was his turn to blush, an adorable shade of pink that suited him so well crawling across golden skin. “I love these, and I was hungry. They’re perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Slipping from the bed to stand once again, you placed your mug back on the tray, and held up your saucer instead to catch crumbs as you ate the first circular treat.

“What are you doing?” Azriel’s voice was a little rough, and you licked stray crumbs and sugar from your lips, not missing his gaze following the motion.

“I’m eating.”

“Why did you stand up?” He flexed his fingers around his mug, watching you happily as you took another bite.

“I didn’t want to risk getting crumbs in your bed.”

“You can,” He stepped closer, putting his drink down and settling his hands on your shoulders, a look in his eyes you didn’t quite get a chance to read before he was moving you, pushing until your legs met the bed and you sat down slowly. “You can sit. I don’t care if you get crumbs. I’ll clean it.”

He moved to take the saucer, the one you had cupped under your chin to catch any loose crumbs, and you gripped it tightly, not letting him have that too. He was making all kinds of sacrifices for you tonight, you weren’t sure why, but this was one rule you could at least respect.

“You can sit up at the pillows, if you want. You don’t have to sit down here.”

Glancing back, the end of the bed felt miles away, and you shrugged, feeling him stack another pastry onto your plate as your attention was turned away. “Will you sit with me if I do? I mean, I know it’s your bed, but…”

“I will. Let me just change, first.”

He swiped up his pyjamas, which had been sitting neatly by the pillow on what you assumed was his side of the bed, and disappeared with a flurry of shadows into the connecting bathroom. Not all of them went, some remained, swirling on the floor, and a single tendril rose up, like a snake lifting its head.

It didn’t have eyes, a face, or any discernible features, and yet you had the distinct feeling you were being watched by it. You popped another shortbread into your mouth, whole this time, and placed the rest down, watching it just as studiously as it approached you across the floor slowly.

It slithered up, across the bedding, and snaked over your thigh until it found your wrist. It was cool, not cold, but a soft breeze across your skin. Soothing, to say the least, and it wrapped in coils around your arm. Up and up it went, crawling under the baggy sleeve-hem of the t-shirt you’d borrowed, across the pulse point in your neck and before re-emerging from your collar and darting into the hanging strands of your hair.

Another soon followed, this one tickling across the bare bad of your foot before snaking up your leg, toying in your fingers, weaving through the digits. Another came, curious like puppies, but this one never touched you. No, instead, it danced across the trunk before you, over the tray and swirled around your mug, again and again in whirling circles.

“What are you doing, little one?”

You reached a finger out, brushing it across the mist. “It’s trying to tell you to drink your tea.”

“Jeez, Azriel!” You jumped, shadows skittering like butterflies back to the corners of the room as he waved a hand, and you clutched your own over your heart. “You’re so fuckin’ sneaky, what is up with you!”

“Spymaster, remember? Sneaky is kind of in the job description.” He winked, winked, and wandered right past where you sat, up to the head of the bed. He looked good, too good for someone simply intending to sleep later tonight, with a fitted black shirt stretched taut across those muscles, and a pair of matching sweatpants to the ones he’d given you, except they looked much better on him. Pulling back the covers, he patted the mattress beneath, raising his head to look at you. “Come on, and bring your tea.”

You did as told, rising and grabbing both your mug and his, moving to sit on the space he’d learned for you, amongst fluffy pillows and cushions. He tucked the blankets back around you, caring for you in a way nobody ever had before, and you had to bite at the inside of your cheek to contain it. “Thank you.”

Your whisper was hardly audible, but he smiled nonetheless, one curl from his raven black locks flopping across his forehead as he nodded, before making his way around to his side. Sinking into the bed, he sat forwards, ruffling his wings for a moment until he was satisfied, before sitting back and taking the mug you offered.

Once one hand was free, you indulged yourself, leaning across to tuck that curl back up into his hair, his golden eyes tracking every movement. “Why are you doing this for me, Azriel?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you looking after me? Why are you being so kind to a complete stranger? I’m here, wearing your clothes, sitting in your bed, drinking your tea. Why?” The words hung thick in the air around you, for so long you sipped your tea just for something to do as his lips pursed in consideration. You swore you could hear your heartbeat, drumming in anticipation. This was it. This was where stupid, ridiculous, blind trust from desperation got you. Into the bed of someone who could ruin your life, who would make it seem like nothing ever happened, who—

“I don’t quite know.”

“You— what?” It wasn’t what you’d been expecting, head emptying once again, and he shrugged. He sipped his tea, and didn’t continue. You placed your own down on the bedside table to your left, turning onto your side and propping yourself on the pillows to study him. “You don’t know?”

“No. I just saw you, and I wanted to talk to you. So, we talked. Then I walked you home, and I saw where you lived, and I just knew I couldn't let someone as good as you go in there again.”

“You don’t even know me! What if I’m a really awful person?”

“I don’t think so.” He smiled, tucking a strand of your hair away behind your ear as he smiled. His thumb came down, tracing slowly across your cheek in a way that made sparks fly along your skin, your heart skipping another beat, and his grin only got wider. “I’m pretty good at reading people, and you’re golden. Besides, my shadows are all shadows. They know these things, they don’t trust people easily, but they like you. That tells me that you’re good, that you deserve more.”

“That’s a lot of faith to have in them.”

“They’ve earned that faith over the centuries.” His confession brought another wave of silence, but nothing about it was awkward. He finished his tea, as did you, sitting side by side in his grand bed, where your feet didn’t even come close to touching the ends. “Azriel?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me something?”

His expression was sweet like sugar, and he rolled a little more to face you, a little closer to you, sharing your space. “What would you like me to tell you?”

“Tell me your funniest story.”

And just like that, Azriel was off, words flying from his mouth as he began to recreate the scene, and you slumped down into the pillows to listen. He told you about his brother, Cassian, and you laughed with him so much your sides hurt. You told him your own, your funniest tales of your time in school, pranks you and your friends had pulled, drunken nights out.

Just one cup had become two, had become three, into four, as the stories moved on, conversation flowing so easily between you both in a way it never had before.

The teapot was drained somewhere between talking about your childhood and his, when you’d returned the mugs to the tray, and found yourself braced in his arm, cheek on his chest listening to the rumble of his voice as he talked.

Somewhere around the time of talking about all the promises he’d made, you’d found yourself sat up, cross-legged to match him and knees touching, leaning in like you were talking in secrets, hiding giggled in whispers like you were kids getting caught talking in a classroom.

You told him about your trip to the Night Court, how you’d always felt so lost in Dawn, nothing seemed right, and after Amarantha's reign and the war, everything seemed to have fallen apart for you. He listened, he actually heard you, when you told him about your trip here, to see the City of Starlight and feeling more rooted here than you ever had in your home court. Something was calling you. You may not have the life you’d dreamed of yet, but you’d get there.

He swore you would, he believed in you. He told you all the places to visit, the best parts of Velaris to see, when you could spare the time and the funds. Most seemed like dreams, things you’d never get to truly achieve, but it was fun to imagine them.

By the time the sun had been rising again, you were laying on your back, his head on your stomach as he lay sideways across the bed. Your hand was in his hair scratching across his scalp as he explained to you the trials that had brought him and his brothers to victory as Carynthian warriors.

“Azriel, can I ask you a question?” You whispered, dragging your hand through his hair one more time, before he was moving, propping his chin on your stomach and offering a sleepy smile.

“Sure.”

“What were you doing at the pleasure house tonight?”

“Looking for this.” He mumbled, yawning to follow it, and your thoughts swirled. He crawled up the bed a little more, collapsing down half on top of you still, half beside you in the bed, sharing your pillow. “Looking for company.”

“Well, yes, but not this kind of company.”

“No, not this kind.” His lips still smiled as his lashes fluttered, those pretty eyes finally opening to look at you again. “I’m so fuckin’ lonely, all the time. All those stories are great, they’re fun, but it's the times in between that hurt. When I sit at the dinner table, surrounded by five happy couples, all alone. When I see them, and I want to be so happy because they’re so in love, and I’m just jealous. Sometimes, I just want to be touched, to be loved, to be the one getting attention. Being the eleventh wheel sucks.”

“Eleventh wheel?” Your chuckle made him roll his eyes, shrugging helplessly, and groaning as he readjusted in the pillows, propping himself up.

“I don’t know what drew me there tonight, just that I was lonely, and I want to feel love. Even if it was just a short time, even if I had to pay for it. Even if it wasn’t real.” He lifted your hand, weaving his scarred fingers through your own, and smiling fondly when he settled your hands in his lap. “Maybe it was fate that I found you instead. That, rather than pay for false love that would make me only feel worse after, I got to meet you, to help you. I didn’t bring you back here with this intention, I didn’t mean to bring you back at all, it just sort of happened. But, this has been one of the best nights of my existence, and all we did was talk.”

“Oh, Az…” Your voice cracked, leaning across towards him you pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling his smile pull under your lips.

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.” You pulled back, settling your hand on his shoulder as your thumbs battled aimlessly.

That blissful silence settled between you both once again, exhaustion eating at your boned as you fought to even keep your eyes open, and watch the growing sun rays come through the windows you’d never even bothered to cover last night.

At some point, you’d have to leave. You’d have to give him his clothes back, and try to find your way home, living with nothing but the warming memories of this night to keep you from freezing in your apartment this Winter. It was all so worth it, because while you may not have confessed it in return, you hoped he knew it was one of the best nights of your existence, too.

“What if we did this again?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, words slightly slurred through your tiredness, and you wondered idly if you fell asleep here, would he let you stay until you woke up before sending you on your way?

“This. This, whatever this night was. We could make it an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” You snorted, cloudy amusement filling your veins, but he only hummed. “Would you like to pay me to cuddle you, Azriel?”

“I would, actually. That and… other things.”

“What?” That cut through the haze, your head snapping up to look at him, your hand pulling back from his own as an icy feeling filled your chest. “I’m not— that’s— if I was going to do that, I’d be at the pleasure house right now!”

“What are you— no! Not those things!” His eyes widened as he released, shooting out to hold onto you once again as you searched for the edges of the covers to fling back. “Not like that. I just mean, there are things I want. I want company, I want someone to talk to over the dinner tables in the evening and hold like this, someone to make me feel less alone. I need affection, and just look at us tonight. Just like this, this was enough for me. And, there are things you need.”

“What do I need?” Huffing out the words, he gently smoothed your fingers from gripping the blankets, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze again.

“You need a place to live that isn’t that horrible building. You need a real address, in a good part of town, so that someone will hire you. You need a friend in this city, and I want to be that friend.”

“So, you’d, what? Have me move into your house, live here with you? You’d change my whole life all for the measly price of cuddling you at night? You know, a girlfriend would do that for you. You wouldn't have trouble finding one, Azriel!”

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered, rubbing his thumb over your chin as he still held it. “Most people are scared of me, or want something from me. Even after that, I’m hard to put up with.”

“Oh, c’mon, Az.” Your eyes rolled, and he pinched a little in response.

“Sometimes I have to go away for days at a time, weeks at a time. I have a hectic and unpredictable work schedule, so planning dates and getting to know someone isn’t exactly easy when you might have to inexplicably stand them up and not be able to explain why. Even so, I’m meticulous and pedantic, and people don’t want to date someone like that. Even with all that aside, actually connecting with someone is something I struggle with.” He let it all off his chest in one burst, and you felt the weight of his troubles and confessions like a rock on your chest. “You’d be perfect for me.”

“You don’t even know my name!”

“I do!” His eyes sheened over, thinking back across the whole night, and you watched the moment he realised that perhaps he’d given you his name, but he’d never asked for your own. “Names don’t mean a thing when I can see your soul so clearly, already.”

“You know this is insane, right?”

“Totally.” He confirmed, smiling a little at your scoff. “But we should still do it. You can live here, with me. You can get a job, make this your home, and have the life you always wanted in Velaris. In return, I get to not feel like the darkness, like I’m alone, all the time.”

“Would I have my own room?”

“Any you like. You’re not going to be a prisoner, or some kind of kinky hostage. This will be your home too.” Your shared snickers at his wording only brought you closer, until your forehead was resting on his own, staring at him through warped vision at your closeness.

“This is madness. How would it work, what are the rules here?”

“The rules are whatever we want. We do what makes us happy, what makes us comfortable. I care about you, I like you. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’ve had me since the moment I saw you.” Your breathing stuttered, his hand cupping your whole cheek now instead, and you settled down into the pillows to face him. “It may be crazy, but I am crazy, you’re gonna’ learn that. Let me change your life, sweetheart. You’ll be changing mine too.”

Your voice was nothing more than a shaky whisper, accompanied by a smile. “Then I think you’ve got yourself a deal, Azriel.”

#SLS #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

Text

Bar Crawl

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, flirting, alcohol, kissing

Word Count: 1.5k

On a night out, Kyle takes a chance and makes a move.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // summer 2024 masterlist

It’s late, and the alcohol is buzzing beneath your skin like a drone of angry bees.

You rarely go out with the rest of the SAS crowd. It’s not like you’re actually part of the organization. This is a simple transfer. A few months at the most before you head back home. And you’re not in the field anyway. You’re behind the desk, drowning in paperwork.

There is no bloodshed. No metallic tang with a burst of lead.

You only know ink, computer screens, and editing software.

This entire outing is a treat. A way to let loose. Something you haven’t really done since you set foot in England.

And it isn’t only a night out. Someone has their eye on you.

It’s subtle, and you don’t think anyone else notices. But you do. How could you not? Kyle Garrick—also known as Gaz—is incredibly handsome, and entirely sweet on you.

Right now, he’s across the pub with his team, a beer in hand. Captain Price and Sergeant MacTavish are talking while Kyle and Lieutenant Riley listen. While Kyle’s body is turned in their direction, his gaze keeps drifting. It floats away, landing on you every time.

At each meeting of your gazes, Kyle smiles. It’s not sweet exactly. It’s knowing. Nearly seductive. A teasing look from across the room. Perhaps Kyle is feeling the alcohol as you are. Feeling the heat and buzz beneath the skin. The growing sense of need that won’t seem to abate.

The pub is dark, and the lighting only comes from candles and small lamps on the walls. This place was once an old house, but the interior as been converted, and the rooms gutted. Most of the space is just a series of rooms packed with tables. The walls are covered in paintings and all sorts of oddities. It’s eclectic. Fun. But no one is really paying attention to the pub around them.

You really aren’t either. But you’re also not including yourself in the conversation around you. All you can think about is Kyle. He is absorbing into your blood just like the alcohol. Every time you glance away, you find him, no matter where he is in the room.

It is electric. Magnetic.

Building like a brewing storm.

Your heart is hammering. It’s so loud the rest of the pub seems distant. And Kyle is right there, as if you’re looking at him through binoculars. Everything is out of focus. Except him. Only him.

“Are you listening to me?”

You turn abruptly, and give your best smile to Jane, one of the secretaries. “Sorry,” you sigh. “A bit tired.”

Jane and the rest of the women are you nod in agreement. She brings her glass to her lips. “I hear that,” she mutters, taking a long drink, grimacing slightly as the glass returns to the table.

Work has been hell the last couple weeks. It’s a slew of never-ending paperwork. You’ve been stuck at a desk, pouring over reports, consuming more coffee than you probably should be.

A reply begins to form your lips, but then you hear your name being called in a voice you recognize. Everyone at the table startles, turning in the direction of the voice. For a second, you do not follow their movements, only staring down at the table.

But you hear your name again, and this time the urge to glance in Kyle’s direction is instant.

“Sergeant,” you say in greeting.

He grins at you, and then flashes that stunning smile at the women sitting around the table. “Don’t mind if I borrow her for a bit?”

“Not at all,” says Jane quickly.

The other women shake their heads, gazes astonished as you abandon your drink and take Kyle’s offered hand. While his hold is strong, there is gentleness there. You like it. You want to sink down into that feeling forever.

Kyle leads you out into a little hallway, and the clamor of the pub disappears slightly.

“Heard you’re leaving soon,” says Kyle, stepping to the side to allow an employee to pass.

It’s true. You likely only have a couple weeks left before you head home.

“Did you?” you ask. “Who from?”

You haven’t told anyone. Not really. But it’s not a big secret.

Kyle shrugs. “Does it matter?”

You mimic is shrug, and Kyle laughs softly. “Not really. This post was supposed to be temporary anyway. But you know that.”

Kyle shifts a bit closer. His heat is everywhere, warming your limbs. Kyle’s fingers playfully pull at the hem of your shirt. “Planning to leave without saying goodbye to your favorite sergeant?”

You lightly tug on his jacket in response. “Bold of you to think you’re my favorite.”

Kyle barks a laugh, and you smile demurely at your boldness.

This is nice. This is fun.

The two of you have always been a bit sweet on each other. Kyle is always making a point to come see you when he can. He knows your coffee order, and occasionally brought you snacks and lunch. The two of you would hang out and talk. He checks on you, and it softened you to him.

Eventually, you offered up a few kisses, and Kyle greedily seized them.

“Been kissing MacTavish?” asks Kyle.

“Maybe,” you tease.

Kyle tugs on your shirt, and the momentum brings you closer to him. “Maybe?” he replies, tone dropping to something dark and heated. His brow creases in the middle, and you suddenly sense a change in him. “You like his kisses better than mine?”

No.

But you haven’t actually kissed Sergeant MacTavish. He’s cute, but not your type. Kyle is. Kyle is who you want.

You shrug. “It’s been a while. Might need a reminder,” you say softly, leaning in.

The corner of Kyle’s mouth quirks with amusement. “You want to kiss me where everyone can see?”

“Nervous, Garrick?” you counter.

“Never,” smirks Kyle.

Then his hand is on the back of your neck. Kyle’s lips meet yours, and then you’re drowning in him, remembering all the ways you want to be with him.

Kissing isn’t enough. It’s not nearly enough.

You want this man between your legs, to know what he’ll feel like inside you, to have him own you body and soul. Kyle is who you’ve wanted these last few months, and all this flirting and tension has come to this.

The pub seems so distant. A far speck on the horizon. Just an annoying buzz in the background. Right now, all there is for you is Kyle. It’s delicious. Sweet, but with honey on the tongue. All those previous kisses were rather chaste and soft. This is nothing like those. It’s passion laced with salt.

These kisses drip with need, and you breathe it in, wanting more. The warm buzzing beneath your skin is transforming into an inferno.

Kyle pulls away, and you nearly stumble forward when he draws back. The loss of his lips is starling.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all evening,” he says, voice husky.

You feel your cheeks heat. You’re suddenly hot everywhere. Burning internally. Ready to explode.

Glancing around, you find the hallway empty. But there are people nearby. Anyone could walk into this hallway and find the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms. While you want to take this further, you don’t want to do it here in the open where people can see.

Wanting Kyle is a deep desire that sits in your ribcage, but you do not want others to be part of this. This connection is only for the two of you.

Kyle’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he guides your gaze back to him.

“Want to get out of here?” he asks, as if reading your mind.

“And go where?” you laugh.

People expect the two of you to be present. But then again, the two of you have been at this function for over an hour. You’ve made a proper appearance. Do you really have to stay for the whole thing? Will anyone actually miss either of you?

“Wherever you want.”

“Wherever I want?” you ask, slightly confused. “You don’t want to stay here?”

Kyle shakes his head. “Fuck everyone else,” he says sharply. “This might be my last night with you. Want to make the most of it.”

It’s true. With everything going on at work, this might be the only time the two of you can properly have together before you’re sent home. You can get his number, but finding time seems daunting.

Kyle is giving you the rope, and all you need to do is take. To take the leap and trust him.

He draws you in for another kiss, and this one is slow and sweet.

“Let’s go,” you murmur against his lips.

He smiles, and you melt.

“Where to?”

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@arrozyfrijoles23 @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

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lawqual1ty · 9 months

Text

Heart drawings (Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader)

Pov: After finishing your duties you end up hanging out with Law during his work but end up getting bored which results in you adding a little something to your captain's skin.

Warning: too much fluff (go get some insulin), reader has (implied) ADHD symptoms

You had never been known to be a person that could sit still for long, whether it was moving your leg around or playing with something in your hand you had to always be doing something or else your brain would go insane, which got you to offer your helping hand in a lot of situations once you joined the Heart pirates.

However there would always be days, like today, that there was not much you could do even if you asked to, so you had to stick to reading or studying for the most part after you finished your daily duties.

You were in your room reading a few of the medicine books that your Captain , Trafalgar Law, had generously lent you for your free time, however well... You were struggling... And a lot.

"Wait... What was I reading...?" You grunted, this was the third time in a row you had read the words on the book only to forget seconds later what exactly you had read with great speed. You were getting irritated. You wanted to learn more about how to create different types of medicine so that you could help your crew but your brain was having a hard time concentrating, you rubbed the bridge of your nose with annoyance.

"I need a break..." You muttered as you softly closed the book, a light tap from the cover giving you the signal that you could head off.

You wandered around for a while looking for something to do, many of your crewmates were already hanging out with each other, chatting, drinking and some even helping out to clean the medical bay, you wanted to offer a helping hand in hopes of entertaining your inevitable boredom.

"hey, what are you guys doing?" You asked softly approaching Sachi and Bepo who were cleaning a few medical supplements, the latter turning to look at you.

"Oh, we were just cleaning and sharpening some of our usual tools in case we get an emergency" Bepo tilted his head slightly "Did you need anything Y/N?"

You smiled at the sweet gesture of Bepo, shaking your head slightly at his question "Nope, I was just wondering if you guys needed any help"

Bepo looked over at the different tools placed in display, seeming to think about your question a bit too much before turning to look at you with an apologetic look on his face "Not really... I'm so sorry"

He apologized as usual, his tone shifting to a more melancholic one making you chuckle nervously, you never enjoyed seeing him like this but he was just so sweet that you understood where this attitude of his came from, you shook your hands in front of you in a way of excusing yourself, almost as if the one that had to be apologizing should be you "No no it's okay, no need to apologize Bepo..." His eyes lit up with relief as you didn't seem mad at him for rejecting your help, it made you feel relieved yourself.

You sighed deeply with a soft smile "Anyway, good luck you too" Sachi smiled at you warmly as well as Bepo

"Thank you! We'll make sure that everything is right! Oh..." You were about to leave when Sachi's words seemed to try and stop you in your tracks "If you go see the captain tell him we are lacking some oxygen tanks".

Your eyes widened at his words, why did he think you were going to see the captain? Out of shock you just nodded with a soft but shy smile "Sure thing, I'll make sure to inform him once I see him" with those last words you waved at the duo and walked away.

A sigh escaped your lips as you kept walking, you didn't originally intend to see your Captain but now thanks to Sachi and Bepo you sort of had an excuse... Right? You made your way through the cold but oddly comforting halls of the Polar Tang, you had not been here for long but these halls had definitely grown on you... Maybe they weren't the best looking but the people around them made it feel like a home to you.

You finally arrived at the office door of your captain, you were a tad bit nervous to interrupt him but... You had a job to do so you might as well shake that nervousness off and knock, which you did.

"Come in..." A light husky voice invited you inside, you breathed softly.

"Please excuse me..." You muttered before placing your hand in the door handle and opened it, a light creak welcoming you inside to the sight of your captain with big eyebags under his eyes as he drowned in paperwork, he didn't even raise his eyesight to acknowledge you "Yes? What is it Y/N-ya?".

You took a deep breath before speaking.

"Sachi informed me that we are short of oxygen tanks"

"Oh right... Write it down on the paper list and we'll get some more on the next island..."

He didn't even budge, and honestly neither did you... You knew that after this interaction you wouldn't have much to do later which made you a bit sad... So you just stood there, staring at your captain for a bit. He seemed to notice it, after all an exasperated sigh escaped his lips, his grey eyes slowly rising to look at you with a piercing cold gaze "Anything else?" He spoke, cold and firmly, questioning why you were still there in the first place... That should have been the end of your interaction, informing him was the only reason you came in there after all, right? Then why didn't you respond...? Your mind started racing...

"Captain..." Before you were fully aware of your actions you took a step forward and spoke "Do you... Mind if I stay for a bit?"

You caught a glimpse of surprise in your Captain's eyes, those grey spheres seeming to warm up for a moment at your offer. But just as quickly as it appeared it went away only for his attention to shift back to his paperwork.

"I... I'm sorry..." You were quick to apologize, your voice wavering ever so slightly

"I didn't mean to--"

"Go on."

You froze "What...?"

"I said you can stay..."

His words snapped you back to reality, he was... Allowing you to stay, you had no space for words, you just nodded and moved a chair over next to his desk taking a seat politely next to him as he kept on working.

He didn't budge at all, if anything it seemed like his concentration increased thanks to your presence, the mere idea made you happy as you sat there next to him.

Unfortunately you started getting bored once more, as thrilling as it was watching your captain work through his paperwork with graze, not budging at all, it had gotten boring after a few minutes.

You started looking around finding yourself with a pen, you softly took it into your hands and started fiddling with it... Suddenly, an idea sparked in your brain. You took the cap off it and started scribbling in your hand, trying to see if the pen was smooth enough to draw on your soft skin, you smiled brightly once you confirmed your suspicions: it was a good pen and it drew a perfect black ray on your skin with ease.

Once you discovered this you started drawing on your hands, starting off with a skeletal hand to practice the location of different bones in the hand to less professional stuff like hearts and small animals. You were entertained by your own scribbles when all of a sudden you were interrupted by Law grunting and leaning backwards on his chair.

He had his left arm laid across the chair, his tattooed hand dangling in the air, while his right arm stroked his face with obvious frustration. You stared at him then back at the pen you were holding, slowly but steadily a smirk formed on your lips.

Without a warning you scooted closer to your Captain, he didn't even realize you were closer to him until he felt your hands take a hold of his left arm, he flinched but didn't move his arm at all... They say curiosity killed the cat ... And curiosity had definitely gotten to him as he looked at you take his arm with your hand and start passing the pen around his skin in delicate but firm traces.

"What are you doing?" He questioned with a furrowed expression

"Drawing" you spoke bluntly as you focused on the piece of art that you were doing in his arm "I got bored..."

Your response caught him off guard, his eyes wide as he stared at you for a bit. A small smile formed on his lips "I need to check your medical record..."

His soft tone was like a way of signaling you something...of what he really meant: he didn't mind you drawing on him... You looked over at him for a moment only to smile and return to your drawing, you didn't know much what you were doing you just followed your heart as you scribbled. Slowly but steadily the drawing took form into a star surrounded by wavy lines that formed what almost looked like a tattoo design, you even went out of your way to draw small hearts, a secret confession of your feelings to your Captain (not that he would notice... Right?) You leaned back with a satisfied smile as you looked at your work, you looked over at Law who seemed entranced into one of his books, he hadn't budged during your whole art process. Once you leaned back he hummed softly, his eyes never leaving his book at all "You done?" He asked politely, you nodded.

"Yeah I did!"

"Good... My arm was starting to fall asleep..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his snarky comment "At least you now got another cool tattoo"

He huffed with a slight smirk "Doubt it..." You acted offended at his words giving him a light push on his shoulder winning a soft laugh from him.

"You haven't even seen it!"

"I don't need to..."

"Oh come on... You have seen my drawings!"

A soft chuckle was the only response you got, it made you smile, although he acted as if he probably didn't like it you knew that he did... Or that's what you'd like to believe...

And trust me he did...

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A few days after the drawing incident you were wandering around the Polar Tang heading to the kitchen to get something to eat as you were pretty hungry.

You waltzed around when a characteristic husky voice caught your attention in an instant, it came from the kitchen. Following the voice you peaked through the door finding your captain talking with Penguin about something you didn't quite catch, all you knew was that it was something serious judging by Law's and Penguin's expression.

You stood there for a bit waiting for the right moment to enter when all of a sudden you noticed a small detail on your Captain's left arm, your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed a light pink...

What did you see?

Well, you saw your drawing tattooed onto his arm... That was the only reasonable explanation as to why it still looked so bright and vivid, after all a few days had passed since you did it and unless Law had taken extreme care of it it should have already been at least a little bit vanished, just like the drawings you did on your own skin from that same day.

Penguin was walking away once he had finished speaking to Law, which was your signal to pounce.

You slowly made your way towards Law catching his attention once you were hovering behind him, he glanced at him over his shoulder "Y/N-ya...?"

His question was left in the air once you took his left arm rising it to your face, much to his surprise, you scanned the drawing carefully confirming your suspicions: he had indeed tattooed it onto his skin. You turned to look to a flustered Law with a bright smile.

"You actually tattooed my drawing?!" You asked in both surprise and excitement, Law covered his face with his hand, a blush creeping its way to his cheeks in an instant

"Shut up..."

You laughed.

Maybe you should draw on him more often when you get bored...

#trafalgar law #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar one piece #one piece fic #trafalgar law x reader #one piece fluff #one piece scenario #oneshot #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d law x reader

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sungbeam · 2 months

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

ji changmin x gn!reader

1.3k words, est. relationship au, hurt/comfort, minor fluff but more angst?, a bit of silliness, mentions of work pressures, neck kisses, intimacy, mentions of playful biting, pretty much not beta'd or proofread (past my bedtime; written in an hour)

a/n: @kimsohn saw some of the goofiness first <3 ily (*breathes in deeply* idk what im doing guys. anyways, this belongs in the category labeled "i get yappy and sappy when im existentially exhausted")

In the dark, the clock on top of the oven screamed “3:22AM” in angry, red light. You stumbled past it, vision blurry and footsteps as quiet as you could make them against the hardwood. Your bones ached to the marrow and you could feel the blood throbbing violently in your skull; you could not sleep.

It had been three hours of tossing and turning before you completely gave up and slipped out into the kitchen. Usually, it wasn't too difficult for you to fall asleep, but alas, there would always be exceptions.

You managed to find the opened bag of tangerines on the kitchen counter, the orange, wiry mesh already torn from the last person who'd grabbed one to snack on. As your eyes grew accustomed to the dark, you dug your nail into its skin and began to peel it open.

Through your daze, you just barely registered the sound of the bedroom door opening—footsteps followed after and came closer; they weren't trying to stay quiet like you were, as there wasn't any reason to anymore. Hands patted you down from your shoulders to your arms until they could settle comfortably around your waist; his body slid flush against your back like a puzzle piece, still warm from being in bed. Hair tickled the underside of your jaw as he nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder, the ghost of his breath fanning across your skin like a caress, relieved.

“Did I wake you?” You murmured, forcing yourself awake a little as you felt him lean more of his weight against you.

A low hum. “Bed got cold.”

The corners of your mouth tilted upward as you stuck a piece of fruit into your mouth—it was summer; the bed couldn't have been cold. Juice spilled over your tongue in a comfortingly sweet tang, and you went for another. “Sorry, love. Do you want some?” You asked, holding onto a piece of tangerine.

“Mm-mm,” Changmin hummed, shaking his head with a slight movement. You felt his arms give your body a squeeze. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice small.

You shoveled the remainder of the tangerine half into your mouth, hands reaching for another one to keep yourself busy as you chewed, then swallowed. “Tired.”

“Is it the thing?”

Just the thought of the thing—the project you were given charge of at work—made you wish the ground would swallow you up. Your hands stilled on the orange.

The project was the first you were given a manager role for, as they thought it appropriate because you came up with the idea, but it seemed to only be an excuse to overload you with every Herculean task they could think of. You were practically chained to your cubicle desk until day's end, only leaving to go to the bathroom and attend another god forsaken meeting. Where home was supposed to be for rest, you were often slumped over the dining table, stressing yourself silver.

The thought of Monday… no, you couldn't think of Monday. You'd gone so long working on this thing—how could they make you loathe an idea that you proposed?

At your lack of an answer, there came a small breath against your neck. His thumb gently rubbed your side back and forth, the ebb and flow of the tide. “I'm sorry, baby. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm proud of you.”

“It does mean something,” you countered quietly, and moved one of your hands to place it over his that rested over your stomach. “I'm just—I hate it here sometimes.”

The two of you seemed to sigh at once, your chests raising up then deflating in tandem. It made the knots in your shoulders loosen for just a moment, and you could release some of the strain keeping you tight and awake.

“One more,” he coaxed lowly. “In—”

You both slowly pulled air up through your nose to fill the caverns in your chests.

“—Out.”

As all things came and went, so too did this breath.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips pressing something sweet against your throat.

You were too tired to cry, but you might have just then. Sometimes it was just a project, but other times it was everything to you. It was born from your two hands, your brains, your back, your bones. Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears had seeped into every proposal and presentation, but you could never tell if it was enough. Would it ever be enough?

Changmin's head shifted as you snuck another piece of orange past your lips. “Remember,” he said, “when we were in college, and I let you text girls on my Hinge?”

Your mouth sweetened into a smile at the memory. “It was only because I let you text the guy who'd given me his number.”

“He was so lame—he clearly just wanted you to go see that new Stephen King movie so he could hold your hand.” You could feel him roll his eyes in the dark, though his voice remained syrupy with sleep.

You held back a snort. “That's the point, hon. If I remember correctly, the pick-up lines I used on those girls actually worked.”

“Crazy.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You chewed on the next piece of fruit, swallowing it down before speaking again. “At least one of us has game.”

You felt the light pressure of his teeth against your shoulder, and you let out a surprised laugh. You didn't jerk away though—awfully used to your partner's strange language of affection—but you did push back against his forehead in lighthearted reprimand. “We talked about the biting.”

“Yeah, and you said you liked it.”

It was a good thing you didn't have fruit in your mouth. You warmed the slice of orange in your palm as you let the heat leave your cheeks and your neck. He could undoubtedly feel how flushed you were, and he seemed to preen at it.

“Gotcha,” he said smugly, and the smile on his lips molded against your skin as he left a kiss behind your ear. He nuzzled his nose there, too, fingers dancing along your side.

“I love you,” he said next. These words were quiet again. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You knew he meant the state he found you in—hunched over in the dark, eyes glazed over, and dread thrashing in your ears to fill the silence. The laughter that lit up your face just now had been his doing, his attempt at easing all of that burden.

You laid your head against his. “I love you, too.” You hated feeling this way, but some things had to be done. You had to see this one through, and you would.

“Don't run yourself ragged for this,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Can't let you lose yourself.”

The corners of your eyes prickled, your vision going blurry again. Your chewing slowed and you finished the last of the orange in your hands to clear the way for him to grab your fingers to intertwine them with his. He rocked your bodies slowly, dreamily—he was the gentle swaying of the waves beneath the raft you laid upon—and he was keeping you above water.

“Senior year of high school—” a miniscule break in his own voice, “—when college decisions came out… you didn't speak for so long, didn't eat. It was so quiet, and I—I didn't know how to help you.” Back then, the two of you were only labeled as best friends; you still hadn't decided if what you had back then was what you had now, but it was love in some form of the word and feeling. You supposed in every phase of knowing Ji Changmin, what you felt for him was love. “Can I help you now, please? How can I help you?”

You sucked in a breath and it came out trembling. “I'm just tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Just—that’s all. Just be here with me.”

You could feel his slight nod that turned into a tuck into your shoulder. Your pulse fluttered beneath the brush of his lips, his hands tightening around you. (I'm not going anywhere, not without you.)

In a night quickly dissolving into daylight, he held you and held you and held you.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @kflixnet @bjnet

#kflixnet #bjnet #deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #q x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz oneshot #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin drabbles #ji changmin scenarios #ji changmin oneshots #ji changmin imagines

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amorgansgal · 4 months

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I'm always struck by how people seem to think that Gale wouldn't find a regular person (whether they could do magic or not) boring and incomparible to Mystra. I think it's precisely because they aren't extraordinary in the grand scheme of things that makes them extraordinary and wondrous to Gale, especially if they loved him. So here's a little fanfiction piece exploring that! Tis a wee bit smutty, so the more smutty stuff is under the cut!

Perfectly Imperfect

What could compare to the divine? To the goddess of magic herself who could conjure any thought or desire or fantasy and make it so real? Well Gale is pleased to find you can and it’s strangely the things that make you so mortal, so ordinary, that drives him mad with desire. It’s the smell of you, the richest of scents that could never be created so precisely, he’d know if it was wrong or just a little off. It was that intoxicating scent of a little sweat from a passionate rush to bed, the clean smell of water and bath salts or soap still lingering on your skin, and something so wholly you he cannot think of a way to describe it. Comfort? Sweetness? Home?

The smell of desire as his hand skimmed down your waist, teased you until you begged and pleaded with him to give you more, the warm rush against his fingers and the sweet tang when he placed them in his mouth or pressed his tongue against you and watched your back and hips arch off the bed.

It was how you looked, eyes fluttering close when he claimed you, mouth dropped open - a silent ‘o’ of bliss and pleasure - followed by a heady little gasp that he would seal with a kiss and he felt your eager hands grip tightly onto him. His back, his arms, his waist, as though you wanted to touch every inch of him and it was knowing that you couldn’t, even though you were desperate to do so, that sent a shiver of desire coursing through him. Somehow not having everything, of being restrained by mortal physicality, is the most delicious, beautiful, wondrous thing in the world. It’s a rare thing for him to not think of magic, but it’s too easy to forget it when he tumbled you into bed and you both spent hours seeking out each other’s pleasure.

It felt better this way, like he knew you more than he knew his own goddess all those years ago. A few months with you and he had figured out that spot behind your ear, on your neck, that made your knees weak and how easily it was to wrap an arm around your waist when they were, turning you to him so he could kiss you. How there was a spot on your belly that would make you laugh and push his hand away, because it was so sensitive and you would wriggle half way across the bed, before he had pulled you back, promising never to touch it again (maybe)! How there was a discoloured mark on one of your thighs, whether a birthmark or from a fight he hadn’t quite figured out, but how you loved having it kissed and he loved trailing kisses up your thigh, going higher and higher, closer and closer, until you outright demanded he stopped teasing you. And he did, always, even when he had intentions to do otherwise, because he couldn’t say no to you.

It sent his heart galloping away and made blood rush to his head and made it so that he couldn’t look away, whether you were lying in bed with him buried inside you, or reading a book in the library, or sipping tea out on his favourite balcony and admiring the view, the mortal with all their flyaway hairs, with a small stain on their shirt and a bit of dirt caught under nails was so utterly perfectly imperfect, how could Gale not love you?

#gale dekarios #gale smut #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #like it's the funny thing i don't think he cares if a person can do magic or is an all powerful sorcerer or whatever #he's just enthralled by someone who is good and kind and who loves him

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the-slumberparty · 4 months

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🍨Navy & Roo's Sundae Bar🍨

Welcome to Navy and Roo’s Sundae Bar!

*rules at the bottom*

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣, 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕡 𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 (𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟) 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕥!

*Click below the cut to see more.*

🍧Vanilla: ‘only one bed’ - a classic flavour for a classic trope. Your characters are stranded and they have to share a sleeping space.

🍧Chocolate: a secret revealed – for a flavour as dark and rich as chocolate, you need a secret just as delicious. One (or more) of your characters has a dirty little secret revealed.

🍧Strawberry: berry picking – isn't it obvious? Fresh strawberries are best and berry picking is a sweet summertime activity. Your characters go berry picking, how their adventure ends is up to you. Fluffy, smutty, or even, dark.

🍧Neopolitan: love triangle – three's a crowd! Whether it’s poly, a crush on someone taken, a third wheel date, or a spicy threesome, there’s more to love in this combination.

🍧Black Cherry: enemies to lovers – a dark flavour has a sweet tang. So your characters go from one extreme to the other, hate to love.

🍧Mint Chocolate: the loner – mint chocolate is an acquired taste, so it is that one of your characters is of a similar flavour. A loner is brought out of their shell.

🍧Cookie Dough: bakery au – cookie dough proves that a bit of baking can make anything better. Your characters now live in a bakery au, whether they work there, or come as customers, they can’t resist the sweet aura.

🍧Cookies and Cream: soulmates – it's a match made in heaven and without one, the other just feels incomplete. Your characters are soulmates, but how their fates align is up to you.

🍧Rocky Road: rags to riches – it's been a long road. Cinderella, a lottery winner, a sudden inheritance. You decide how your character gets their windfall.

🍧Pistachio: rare pair – pistachio isn’t the most popular, but it’s there. Your pairing isn't a common one, but we know you can make it delicious.

🍧Bubble Gum: slow burn – a bit of chewing is in store. So we will anxiously savour the slow burn between your characters.

🍧Butter Pecan: mutual pining - a pecan isn’t the same as a pine nut, but it’s close enough. We want to see your characters yearn and even lust all while facing obstacles; whether their own fear of rejection, shyness, or social expectations, they just can’t get to each other.

🍧Birthday Cake: secret admirer – it doesn’t have to be your birthday to have this flavour. And your secret admirer leaves you gifts every day, but just won’t give you the one thing you desperately want: their identity.

🍧Butterscotch: childhood friends – every kid likes butterscotch. Your characters have been friends forever, but could they be more?

🍧French Vanilla: stranded/locked in - vanilla, but make it fancy. Forced proximity to the max. Whether your characters have to work together to escape or survive, or just need to wait out the night, they’re stuck together.

*toppings are optional, you do not need to use one for your submission.

🥄Sprinkles: a special event - a wedding, a party, a baby shower; make your setting a special get together.

🥄Chocolate Syrup: established relationship – your characters are already involved, with each other or someone else, adding a bit of messiness to the plot.

🥄Graham Crackers: flashback – a brief trip into the past reveals something important.

🥄Gummy Bears: bad luck – your character is just having a bout of misfortune.

🥄Bananas: eavesdropping – your characters overheard something they shouldn’t have, or misinterpreted a whisper.

🥄Cherries: meet-cute – this can be fluffy or a stereotypical first meeting gone wrong

🥄Toasted Almonds: heartbreak – your character is going through a heartbreak

🥄Oreos: marriage of convenience – your characters marry for the greater good, but maybe not their own

🥄Peanuts: revenge – someone's getting revenge

🥄Caramel: drunk/delirious/not in their right mind – one or more of your characters is not thinking straight

We encourage sundae bar patrons to share this post, both to boost this challenge, or for your own purposes (requests, etc). Thank you all and enjoy your ice cream!

This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters.

🍒Dark creations are accepted but we will not accept underage, incest, or bestiality. Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

🍒For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

🍒We hope that creators can create an inclusive work and encourage writers and creators to use appropriate tagging, ie, f!reader, etc..

🍒 For this challenge, we will accept sequels or continuations to previous works. Please be sure to link the original work in your submission.

🍒Creators may submit three pieces of each medium (up to three visual pieces and up to three written pieces)

🍒Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other.

🍒This is an event for the summer, with a final due date of September 8 for late submissions.

!Tag this blog in your submission so we see it!

#writing challenge #creator challenge #sundae bar #navy and roo's sleepover #sleepover challenge #summer 2024 #summer challenge

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howlyourmelancholy · 1 year

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Drunk In Love

summary: in which you're both drunk.

warnings: thigh riding. mentions of alcohol consumption/being very drunk. possible hints of exhibition. public setting. some teeth rotting fluff thrown in for good measure.

words: 967.

notes: james is a clingy mo'fo and i'm here for it. he's also down bad for reader. reader is also down bad for him. it turned out a little fluffier then originally intended.

It wasn't always like this, but when it was, it was wild and invigorating. The two of you were a tangled mess of limbs, and heavy breaths made between frantic kisses. It was almost painful to have your lips not touch his. His hands were everywhere and nowhere all at once, leaving you restless and squirming in his lap. You were completely and irrevocably lost. The taste of his mouth was intoxicating—a robust mix of his natural flavour, the faded mint toothpaste he'd used that morning, and the spicy tang of the whisky he'd been swigging from all night.

You were drunk, hopelessly so, clinging to him as you straddled one of his thick thighs, your arms wound around his neck while you attacked his lips with swift kisses and zinging bites. James didn't mind, not one bit, because he was in a similar state. His head was swimming with the buzz of alcohol and the taste of you; his senses captivated and ensnared by the sweet sounds you were making. "You're so pretty," he whispered softly, as though the words were a precious promise meant only for you.

The adoration and utter love in his voice made your breath catch in your chest. You loved the boy; you realised that in that moment. You wanted to marry him; you wanted to have his children; you wanted to spend your life with him, always by his side. The words died on your tongue before they can be given life, morphing into a sigh that he stole from your lips with cherry-sweet kisses that send shocks of pleasure shooting down your spine.

He knows, though.

He could feel your love in the way you cradle his face in the palms of your hands, thumbs sweeping over the apples of his cheek as though to brush away non-existent tears. He could feel it in the way you whisper his name against his lips and steal the breath from his lungs. He could feel it in the slow grind of your hips over his thigh and the sticky-sweet trail left on the fabric of his jeans. He's gentle tonight, letting you use him how you wanted—the usual male aggression that fuels his ego having melted away only to be replaced with something softer.

You don't mind.

You'll have him however you can. You craved him in all forms—the soft and sweet, the wild and untamed. "How are you feeling, baby?" he murmured against your neck, caressing you with his lips. You couldn't help but whine. The way his voice dipped into a lower octave, rough with desire, had your slick walls clamping around nothing.

“Feels s'good,” you replied as your hips rolled more firmly along the column of his thigh, making you both groan beneath your breath. The rough fabric of his jeans had you slowly going insane; the rips were a delicious caress against your cunt through the thin, wet barrier of your knickers that sent wisps of pleasure shooting through your veins. James could feel how wet you were; you grabbed at him here, there, and everywhere, just to ground yourself in the moment. Your head was empty of thoughts, and he couldn't have been happier.

"Yeah?" He breathed, his head tilting to the side but his lips never leaving your skin. James left little love bites in the wake of his mouth, blue-purple signs of how hungry he was and how much he loved you. "I can feel how wet you are, love. Can't wait to get home and fill that pretty pussy with my cum. You want that? Want my cum inside you, pretty girl?"

You felt the splash of moisture his words brought to your core as you floated further into the clouds. James grabbed your hips when your pace faltered, the burn in your thighs becoming too much. He slid one of his hands around to the small of your back and then travelled south, his big, warm palm grabbing a handful of your arse to help you along. He wrapped the opposite arm completely around you and held you to his chest as you rode him.

The stitches holding your soul to your body began to unravel, causing your moans to become louder. James didn't mind—not at all, not one bit. He liked when you were loudly proclaiming his name to the heavens as though he were a god and you were praying at his feet. He can tell that you're embarrassed by how you've cemented your mouth to his neck and how your nails dig into his back as you press closer. Even drunk, you're shy and nervous.

He doubted any of them were paying attention to the two of you tucked away in the corner—not that he'd have cared if they were. With the volume of the muggle music, it easily drowned out your moans as an orgasm rolled through you. It felt like the peak of a roller coaster: a slow build-up, and then as you fell down the other side, all the tension exploded through you, shooting up your spine, down the backs of your legs, and everywhere else. James crowded around you, smothering your senses, and held you impossibly tight as your eyes rolled back into your skull.

He found himself painfully hard, his cock throbbing in the confines of his jeans. He hummed against your ear as sobriety crept through his mind. After a while, you came back to reality with the ache in your clit now throbbing in time with the beating of your heart.

You felt so relaxed but still wound tighter than an antique clock. His hand came up to capture your chin and tilt your face towards his so that he could brush his lips on yours. "Ready to go home, pretty girl?"

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter smut #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james x you

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sleighhethereal · 9 months

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𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 || 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒆

❀ A lovely morning, and Macaque insists he cooks you breakfast— it's the least he can do.

❀ WARNING: Slight Suggestive Themes, Fluff, A Hint of Spanish? and Macaque being the suave silly he is

The annoying chimes of an alarm clock woke you.

You groaned in irritation, eyes still droopy and fatigued as you reached blindly towards the noise- hoping to shut it off quickly and to go back to your slumber.

That was before a loud whack snapped you out of the dooziness instantly. Blinking dumbly, an arm with it's fists curled had reached from behind you and smashed the alarm clock— leaving broken bits on the desk.

It slowly retreated back to it's spot around your waist.

Macaque purred from behind you, leaning in closer as if he was scared of letting you go or that you'd disappear if he wasn't attentive.

Wait... why were you naked?

You internally face-palmed, recalling what happened that got you here.

Macaque had invited you to his place. A seemingly innocent request that you accepted and he... introduced you to his skills— that's not important.

You glanced around, and recognized his dark furniture. You were at his dojo, that he had marked as his own territory— and you were in it. From what you've learned from Tang, that's like... couple level shit, which you and him weren't. Atleast not yet.

Macaque's head buried itself into your neck, reminding you that he was still there.

He pampered kisses across your shoulder and closed in to your ear, "Did you sleep well, dear?" He cooed softly, pulling your body closer to him as if you aren't close enough already.

You couldn't help but melt.

"Hmmm.. I did." Lifting his arm up and turned your body to face him entirely. "You gave me a work-out, do you ever get tired?"

Macaque chuckled, nuzzling your face with his snout. "Never tired. In fact, you make me... energized." He stayed there for a second or two, before pulling himself up- still with his arm around you and began messaging your waist. "Since your boss gave you week off... how about we spend it together?"

Hmmm... that sounds ni— wait.

"A week off, how—??" You sat up quickly, regretting it as soon as your head began pumping painfully. Macaque noticed instantly and leaned in— massaging the sides of your head while he purred.

"Shhh... that doesn't matter~"

"Macaque, how did I get a whole week off."

"Hush now, my sweet..."

"Macaq—"

Macaque placed a messy kiss on your lips, shutting you up instantly. It made you recoil a little- to which he chuckled. "How about I make you something, mi amor?" He looked down at your face and gently caressed your cheek. "Aren't you tired from all the work, hm?"

You groaned, "Breakfast sounds nice."

"Of course it does." Macaque replied, a soft smile adorning his face.

Hm... maybe you two'll become something more very soon.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid macaque #lmk macaque #lego macaque #six eared macaque #macaque #macaque x y/n #macaque x reader #fluff #slightly suggestive

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genderfluid-insomniac · 3 months

Note

Hear me out!

I had an idea

So remember where Wukong had some memory loss of the present and thought he was in the past? And that he drank a love potion right? Well while tang and pigsy was helping him out, he saw the shy yet sweet female reader ( who was just waiting for them to come back since she was on a look out for thier stuff ) took off her hair tie and does that hair flip and shook her hair alittle before seeing them coming back.

I got this idea by listening to this song called “ might start singing ” by wuvv . I thought the part where wukong just caught her on time doing that sexy hair flip and looks at him smiling ( yes I’m going for those movie scenes where the character falls for the other by a song that plays in the background if that makes sense lol ) I hope this was okay!

This totally makes sense and I love this idea! I hope you like it!

“Love bound” Amnesiac!Wukong x reader (love potion)

This whole mess you were in felt like a fever dream and the cherry on top was amnesiac Wukong who went to retrieve the kidnapped Tang with Pigsy like the routine shenanigan on Wukong’s Journey. When you, Tang, and Pigsy were trapped in the van and Pigsy shoved the dangerously hot pepper in the sage’s mouth you opted to sit on the edge of the van while the others were getting used to being seen as their reincarnations.

You sighed and put your head in your hands, hoping that Mk and others were having better luck with finding the rings or making progress on your mission. Through one of the little cracks of your hands, you saw movement and lifted your head to pull back in surprise to see Wukong staring at you puzzled. His face focused and his nose scrunched up like he was trying to figure out if he knew you. Probably what the hell some random woman that wasn’t there yesterday was doing on the journey of his.

“Who are you? I don’t remember you being here last night or before that and you’re not a demon.” he trailed off and his eyes glowed gold as if to double-check that you weren’t in fact a demon before going back to their regular shiny gold. Wukong’s head tilted and you snapped out of your trance. “Yeah, I’m Name. I came from a nearby village to help with a mission to save your master,” you said hesitantly and partially lied since it wasn’t entirely false.

He hummed and nodded, looking you up and down before smiling a bit. All of them went back to their attempt at finding Tang, looking at Pigsy and whispering that you were going to stay here with the van and their stuff. He nodded and looked like jealous since he was suddenly snatched by Wukong’s tail and ran off.

You let out a breath and ran a hand through your hair, failing to suppress the blush painting your face and replaying the adorable personality of Wukong’s past self. His lack of attention and similarity to an energetic child was cute. Your crush was pretty evident given you all had been in the van for the past couple of days and your interactions were mostly quiet short ones.

That didn’t mean he didn’t make small teases and small conversations that flustered both of you a tad. It was a while until they got back and you guessed that more than one problem had happened. Tang and Pigsy were arguing while Wukong was looking more affectionate and soft. You took your hair out of your band and flipped it, massaging your roots to fluff it up and ease the strain of the tightness.

You tossed your head back up and made a noise of surprise when Wukong was close to your face, both of you smiling widely with flustered expressions and noticing that your crush had heart-shaped pupils. This only confirmed your suspicions and laughed softly when Wukong wrapped his tail around your arm. Nuzzling your chest and cheeks as he ran his claws through your hair and was seemingly fascinated with it.

“Pigsy? Can you explain why Wukong is suddenly a cuddle bug and lovey-dovey?” you asked and walked over with the mystic monkey still clinging to you. He turned rubbing his eyebrows and sighed. “While we were rescuing Tang Monkey King was eating the scorpions on the table and accidentally ate a bottle of what is probably a love potion. Probably to make Tang stay with the Scorpion queen and all,” he said and groaned, packing up the camping stuff and failing to get Tang from running up the hill to find a bolder for something.

Meanwhile, you and Wukong were cuddled up with each other just outside the van, taking advantage of the situation by snuggling with him and smiling when he started purring. However, it all ended when Pigsy yanked you from getting crushed by a bolder that was meant for Wukong because of “amnesia rules” and thanked him for saving you but couldn’t help the disappointment when he returned to normal.

#lmk sun wukong #lmk x reader #lmk sun wukong x reader #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader

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velvetsserenity · 8 months

Text

The Hills

JJKxF!Reader

cw: sex clubs, oral f!receiving, hair pulling, non-protection sex, semi-public, little bit of voyeurism, nsfw

word count: 1,5k

Your man on the road, he doin' promo

Despite the darkness, the events were still visible. Upon entering your booth, the server promptly delivered your drink. You accepted it eagerly. You can never say no to a Cosmopolitan - sweet with a touch of tang from lime. The sweetness of this drink with a hint of lime.

You sat in your usual booth alone. You wore your favorite outfit when going out, all dolled up. You were scrolling through your phone when the curtain of your booth was pulled aside.

You said, ''Keep our business on the low-low''

A man revealed himself, but only his silhouette was visible. He was tall and well-built. You felt intrigued by his aura. As you motioned for him to enter your booth, his features became more visible to you.

He approached you and asked for your hand, to which you acquiesced. He then brought your hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss.

I'm just tryna get you out the friend zone

You looked up at him and inspected his features. He was quite handsome. He sat down beside you and took a sip of your Cosmopolitan. If it had been anyone else, you might have been offended.

''What brings a woman like you to a club like this, all by yourself?'' He asked in a sultry voice that captivated you. He looked at you from head to toe and back to your lips. He was wearing a classic business suit. Although it may seem inescapable, it fit his aura perfectly.

'Cause you look even better than the photos

You said, ''I was waiting for someone.'' Little did he know that someone was him, someone who could intrigue you. You have interacted with countless men and women, but none of them have impressed you enough to spend the night or even a few hours.

However, this person has raised their expectations with just one sentence and a gentle kiss to your hand. You were not even interested in the gentle ones, and you even surprised yourself with this catch.

I can't find you house, send me the info

''Waiting for someone?'' he asked, moving closer to you on the red velvet couch. ''A woman like you shouldn't have to wait.'' You laughed, but it came out more like a short breath. As he moved closer to your face, you leaned back a bit more into the couch.

You initiated a kiss with him, which quickly escalated into a passionate make-out session. He gripped your waist tightly as you grinded against him. You paused briefly before continuing. He removed the top of your outfit, leaving you only in your bra.

Drivin' through the gated residential

He suddenly pulled your hair harshly, causing you to fall back onto the couch as he leaned over you. He looked at you with hunger in his eyes. He caressed the lace on your black bra before unclasping it and tossing it aside, leaving you completely topless.

He knelt down, still tall enough to reach your face, and kissed your neck, nibbling and biting it, leaving marks. Slowly, he moved closer to your hardened nipples, teasing you in the process. When he finally reached them, he began to worship your breasts, causing you to moan and gasp.

Found out I was comin', send your friends home

After his little make-out session with your breasts, he moved down your belly, leaving a trail with his kisses. ''Take them off,'' he referred to your undergarments. When you were not fast enough for his liking, you heard a low noise emit from him. 'Now.'

You quickly removed any remaining clothing, and he even assisted you. You thought he was probably doing it to do what he wanted to do to you, not because he was being polite.

Keep on tryna hide it but your friends know

Suddenly, his face moved towards your pussy, which surprised you. He pulled your thighs closer to his face as he ate you out. You gasped and moaned while pulling on his soft hair.

You felt you were dripping wet down there, normally you would feel a bit embarrassed since you had done nothing special, just a quick make out session before. However, with him, shame was nonexistent, and only lust prevailed.

I only call you when it's half past five

After he fingered you for a while, he added a second finger. ''Feels good, baby, huh?'' He asked, looking up at you with those lustful eyes, God, he was handsome. You wanted to answer, but he deliberately sucked on your clit harder, making you come on his face and fingers.

As he continued to eat you and all the juices you spilled, you were shaking and moaning. You tried to close your legs, ''Fuck, please! You moaned as you pulled harder on his hair. After your orgasm was completely over, he pulled away from your throbbing pussy.

The only time that I'd be by your side

He stood his full length in front of you while you were still spread out on the couch, looking at him dumbfounded. You slowly closed your legs, looked around the room and back at him. "I need you more.'' You whispered to him.

''You do?'' He asked teasingly as he slowly took off his blazer and shirt, too slow. You tried to stand up to help him get undressed faster, but he pushed you back down. This time your whole body was lying on the couch.

I only love it when you touch me, not feel me

He sat down between your legs as he was now topless, only his pants remained. ''Beg.'' He demanded as he leaned over you, placing his hands on either side of your face. The only thing you could see was him. ''Beg for it.'' You did so nicely, so hopefully.

Finally, he was also completely naked, his hardened cock leaking pre-cum from the red top. You spread your legs for him so he could easily access your pussy. You grinded on nothing, trying to get him to enter you. To move faster.

When I'm fucked up, that's the real me

He pushed into you with force, making you gasp and arch your back. He pushed until he was fully seated in your pussy, taking his time until you were accustomed to his size. He rubbed circles on your clit to make you relax.

When you finally relaxed, he started thrusting into your pussy. He was big so every move felt so good. You both couldn't stop the sounds coming out of you. Also the noises of your bodies moving against each other were loud. Everyone would know what was going on inside, which of course was the intention.

When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, yeah

You wrapped your legs around his waist so that he could not leave, not as if he wanted to. He moaned into your ear and bit your earlobe. You were a moaning mess underneath him, drooling and panting. You brought his hand to your breast, he played with them for a while until he moved his hands down to your belly.

He suddenly pushed down to feel himself, which did it for you. You came right away, all over his cock. You were shaking while he was still in you, chasing his long awaited orgasm.

I only call you when it's half past five

Turn around, on all fours. He asked you again. So you did, lifting yourself up while still trembling from your previous orgasms. He grabbed your waist and pushed into you again, this time from behind. He gave you a hard slap on your ass before he went absolutely wild.

Before you realized it, you felt your third orgasm of the evening approaching. He started rubbing your clit again when he felt it too. He moaned into your ear as he leaned all over your body from behind. "Fucking cum on my cock, god!''

The only time I'd ever call you mine

After a few more thrusts and rubbing of your sensitive clit, you both came hard. You could feel him cumming inside your pussy and it felt oh so good. You felt some of it dripping out and onto the inside of your thighs, traveling down onto the couch you were both on. After a while, when you both came down, he pushed out of you and sat down as you collapsed exhausted on the couch.

"Yes, two more Cosmopolitans and a water.'' You suddenly hear him say. When you looked up, you saw the same server taking your orders yet again. When he left, you sat up straight and looked at him next to you and smiled.

''Round 2?

I only love it when you touch me, not feel me

no repost, yes reblogs!

content from: velvetsserenity

#jjk smut #jjk fic #jjk oneshot #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #nanami kento #nanami smut #mahito smut #mahito x reader #naoya zenin #naoya x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #choso x reader #choso smut

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bowieandqueen11 · 1 year

Text

Honeymooning With Steven Grant Would Include...

I’m so so sorry to the lovely anon who requested this - I tried to copy this into my drafts and accidentally deleted half of it :( I remember it being for honeymoon headcanons, so I hope this is alright love!

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @marc-spectorr.)

Warning: nothing too explicit, but NSFW so 18+ please!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Do you have any idea?? How soft I am for this?? I am so soft I am YEARNING you have made me yearn god I love this concept so much

I feel like the two of you would go somewhere sunny: perhaps a couple of weeks in Egypt, staying in a nice resort by the Red Sea, since Steven is so fed up of the dreary London weather. Just a really nice spot, where the two of you can hire out a boat for the day, and he can sit holding you at the back and feed you strawberries. If he’s not too busy trying to taunt you with the fruit, or giggling like bursts of sunlight as you nip at his fingers, he’s leaning awkwardly over your head to give you a sweet upside down kiss. His lips are so plump, so tender as his top lip latches onto your bottom one, that for a moment the two of you are lost in a sweet abyss where the only thing that exists is the tart tang of each other’s mouths. Or, the poor man is holding onto your biceps for dear life, only being drawn away from your lips by the feel of the boat rocking wildly from side to side.

As twilight began to flood in, flitting past your eyes like a gliding moth chasing the last drop of the honey sun with its velvet tail, you and Steven perch up from where you’re entangled on the chaise longue. Underneath the silver flecks of the waves, a few hawksbill turtles languidly glider underneath the navy froth. Steven’s eyes immediately light up, seeming to glow like shining jewels against the strung lights hanging from the masts. ‘Turtles’, he whispers and points towards the water, turning to look at you as if he’d just seen true magic. You grip onto his finger and place his palm flatly against yours, doing your best not to laugh when he squeals and buries his head deeply into your neck. ‘Yes love’, you caress your free hand through his stubborn curls, ‘those are definitely turtles.’

He nearly loses his mind when a dolphin appears above the crest of the water line. He has to lie down for a little bit against your chest, panting like crazy and his heart racing a mile per minute because even though it’s day one, he’s becoming a bit overwhelmed by all of this bless him. You just snuggle down around him, rubbing your nose against the shell of his ear and whispering sweet nothings until he finally calms down. He looks so calm, so peaceful, with his pursed lips rising and falling in time with his chest, that you’re not too surprised when he begins to snore a few minutes later.

He makes you leave the hotel room before dinner for a couple of minutes while he gets dressed. With an ear pressed up against the door, you ignore the weird looks you’re getting from the elderly vacationers heading down to the dining hall as you listen to the thud of Steven falling across the floor. He seems to be... jumping, probably trying to pull his trousers up quickly, which is followed by the sound of a hanger crashing onto the floor and a squeaky ‘oh, bollocks!’. You’re pressing a finger to your lips to stop yourself erupting when he finally unlatches the door, but it immediately drops down to your side when you take him in. He’s wearing his best polka dot yellow tie and sheepish smile, gazing down in terror at his feet and back up at you. He’s got a squashed box of chocolates in one hand, and a rather pressed bouquet of roses in the other; it almost takes your breath away, since he looks almost identical to the way he arrived at your doorstep for your first date. Even though you’re married now, his arm is still shaking as he offers it to you, and he still sighs a breath of relief when you loop your own through enthusiastically.

‘I’d been dreaming of this moment ever since I first put eyes on you, you know that love?’ He manages to say between shaking words as he leans you downstairs. ‘Every night. All I could blooming think about was how lucky I would be if I could hold your hand every night. You might as well pinch me right now, ‘cause I must be blinking dreaming.’

You spend a lot of your honeymoon down by the sandy strips, sharing a sun lounger and lying together underneath the warm shelter of a beach umbrella. He would read to you, his lips brushing against the tip of each with the pronunciation of each word: hot, tingly, the inside of his lip dragging against your earlobe from time to time. Eventually, when he noticed you were starting to fall asleep from where you were tucked up around his arm, he would become like a big child. He would teasingly shove you with his shoulder with a booming ‘tag, you’re it!’, before giggling as heartily as birdsong and running off across the sand. You finally manage to rugby tackle him down after a solid ten minutes of him skiting around the place, and he looks up at you as if you hung every swinging star in the sky as you hold him in place. Your legs are firm against the taut muscle of his calves, your hands pinning his trembling wrists above his head, and his breath is shaky as you press your weight against his lower abdomen, your bottom resting firmly against his groin.

He feels he’s about to pass out as you let go of his left wrist to run your fingers gingerly across the stubble of his jaw, before cupping his chin to hold in in place. He squirms beneath you, beginning to mewl as you lean down to kiss him. You’re quickly thrown to the side before lips can meet, though, as Steven manages to get you turned and shelters you from the massive wave that comes breaking onto the shore. When he looks down at you, sea water dripping down his wet hair and onto your nose with the most disappointed face in the world, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in laughter.

This man is the BIGGEST softie in the world oml. You come wandering out of the bathroom that night, not expecting to see Steven biting his bottom lip and jutting his chin out. He’s muttering nervously to himself, a quiet ‘oh dear, oh dearie me’ busting out of him as he squats down and runs back and forth across the floorboards like a terrified little crab. He’s grabbing at rose petals he tried to shower across the floor, not realising the cool night breeze would burst in through the French doors and steal them away. When he notices you from the corner of his eye, he quickly straightens up, hiding the woven basket behind his back. He pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on as you walk over to him, but when you drop your towel and grab the back of his head to bring him down for a fervent kiss, the basket is quickly dropped to the floor and the jig is up.

Bro.. bro... oh my god, the body worship this man is hellbent on showing you is beyond crazy on your honeymoon. Like, dear lord, turn it up by a hundred and you might get a little closer to understanding how this emotionally vulnerable, touch starved, drowning in love man might be. I mean, Steven’s always been a giver if you know what I mean, but this is just next level. He’s so nervous though the sweetie pie, that you decide to help him out by loosening his tie. He’s nearly drooling on the floor by the time you throw it off of him, standing there like putty in your hand and just watching with lovesick eyes as you undress him. When his mind finally registers the almost inaudible pop of his shirt buttons though, he’s full on racked by whole body shivers as your palms glide the material apart from his chest. His firm pecs tighten against the feel of your bare skin against his, and behind the breathless inhale he swears he could die quite happily right now as long as you just don’t stop.

When he finally can’t take it anymore, it’s your turn to groan as he grabs onto the back of your thighs and shoves you backwards, pulling your bottom until it’s resting at the edge of the mattress. He slots his frame between your legs, knees coming down onto the floor as he buries himself between your soft flesh in ineffable bliss. Your thighs tighten around his head, and he breathes against your inner thighs as he kisses a path up them, gripping tenderly onto the back of your leg. When a little bit of extra oomph seems to overcome him, and his teeth nips across your panty line as they try to pull the seam of your underwear down, he immediately starts cooing and pressing a delicate brush of his nose against the mark, as if in apology.

Although he’s far better around you, some nights Steven still doesn’t sleep very well. You do your best to wake him up gently on these days, unlatching him from where his legs have tumbled onto yours during the night to start the kettle going. The smell of peppermint tea always perks him straight out of his dreams, and so he curls the duvet around his head like a hedgehog diving into the soft mound of a giant marshmallow as he goes looking for you. His feet slog around the room until he reaches the kitchenette, and he feels his heart begin to fizzle and pound as if a thousand scarabs were flitting around trying to escape the mortal walls when he spots you bopping around to the static hum of the radio. He immediately scares the pants off you by wrapping his arms around your waist, joining in your dance by swaying your hips side to side in time with his own. He’s impossibly close, his warm breath tingling against your neck as he kisses you. Suddenly, you’re enveloped by darkness, realising Steven’s taking the opportunity to assimilate you into the duvet fortress as well, so he can lean down and kiss every inch of exposed skin on your face and neck as he can, with a billion rushed pecks. You finally manage to push him off by pressing your hand against his mouth, and he relents to go get some tea.

The two of you sit knee to knee, criss crossed on top of the unmade bed. ‘We’re married’, he suddenly says, sitting bolt upright as if he’d been shocked between sips from his cup. ‘Yes, Steven’, you reply as he turns to look at you with a smile of pure wonderment, ‘I remember. I was there too.’

‘But it wasn’t a dream. That actually happened. You married me. This isn’t a joke, is it?’

‘It’s not a joke, Steven. I love you’, you state plainly, grabbing onto the back of his hand.

You can see the tears begin to gather behind his bloodshot eyes, his bottom lip blubbering out as his fingers turn to grip, almost painfully, the ends of your own. ‘I love you more than everything in the universe, Y/n.’

I mean, it’s Steven Grant so you 100% go sightseeing around the place! He so delicately holds your hand on the bus, nearly vibrating out of his seat he’s so excited. He even manages to ignore the side-eyes of fellow passengers as you pass by a really exciting historic site, Steven’s shoulder butting against your own as he points out to everything through the window. He hunches over your side until he’s nearly fully leaning onto you as he begins to rush out a boatload of facts he’s learnt from his books back at home. By the end of the night he’s so exhausted he’s fully lying across both the seats, legs planted in the aisle and his head blissfully cradled in your lap. His content smile is literally beauty incarnate, and you can’t help but disturb him from his sleep by kissing the tip of his nose. He replies by latching onto your top lip when you go to pull away, pressing his tongue tiredly against your own before flopping back against your knee as if he’d just won the lottery.

Steven definitely makes you take silly photographs in front of everything you go to see: the picture he took of you jumping in front of the pyramids past Cairo end up pinned on the wall next to his fish tank. After he kisses you goodbye in the mornings before work, it’s become part of his routine to also press a kiss against your cheek in the picture <3

Although he did manage to come round one of the market stalls holding a stray cat in his arms. With pleading eyes, he sounded like he was about to burst out crying as he looked at you, sniffling.

‘Can we keep him?’

‘Steven, how are we supposed to smuggle a cat back in our suitcase??’

‘He can have my plane seat instead, I don’t mind :(’

He tugs you down back alleys during your last few days in Egypt, running down cobblestoned streets hand in hand, flying across the dusty ground like loose kites free in the breeze. He’s on the hunt for a second hand bookstore: one he gets lost in almost immediately. You finally manage to find him hunched over by a knobbly looking bookshelf in a dusty side crevice near the back of the small shop. You have to literally hitch yourself over a pile of pretty worn, ancient looking encyclopaedias, shimmy past a dusty looking globe, and brush through a gap between two lined oaken bookshelves before you spot him. He doesn’t realise you’re behind him until your arms are squeezing around his soft belly, and you’re kissing the bunched material between his shoulder blades. His hand comes up to squeeze your fingers as he gives you a loving, slightly embarrasssed ‘oh! Hello love! Fancy seeing you here!’

He becomes even more shocked when, after you’ve finished resting your nose against his back and just breathing him in for a moment, you spin him round to face you. His eyes widen as he drops the book he was looking at onto his feet, but the confusion is quickly replaced by his features melting into one of intoxication as you press a lingering kiss against the side of his mouth. His eyes are blinking slowly, trying to shut as he crumples against your chest, his elbow knocking backwards and nearly knocking over a few piles of books domino style.

He literally tells you he loves you at least ten times a day. It just blurts out of him, as if he’s going to burst if he doesn’t get to say it. Baby. Baby boy. He deserves this forever love, and has wished for nothing more since the two of you first met.

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #steven grant headcanons #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight headcanons #marvel #marvel imagine #oscar isaac #x reader

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