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quiet-out-there · 10 months

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summary: When Finnick notices how the reader's drink has been spiked with sex pollen at one of President Snows Balls, he and Peeta make a plan to save her from the special services the victors sometimes provide for the capitol. Finnick causes a distraction, while Peeta makes sure to take the reader away to safety, only the plan doesn’t go accordingly, and ends up with a sex crazed reader stuck on a closet.

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slight dubious consent, fingering, lots of praise, dom!Peeta??, reader under sex pollen

Notes: This is my first attempt at a shortfic about Peeta Mellark, as I have been quite obsessed with him lately This story is a short fic with little to no plot, so, enjoy the smut ;) For any weird grammar mistake, feel free to correct me for as inglish isn't my first lenguage!

Word count: 6.6k

Giff: @xiaolanhua

Finnick cursed out loud, grabbing the attention of some of the most important and exclusive people in Panem who were nearby. They began to chuckle and whisper among themselves in return, clearly enjoying the sudden outburst of District’s four beloved victor. Peeta, on the other hand, quickly realized something was wrong, politely ending the conversation with an all too eager sponsor who was in the midst of trying to convince him to go back to her room together. She was old, caked with so much makeup her features were almost unrecognizable. Staring at her for too long made Peeta feel uneasy, as if he were in a fever dream, where everything was washed in an eerie distortion, almost normal but not quite.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he said once he got to Finnick’s side, standing beside one of the absurdly food collapsed tables at one of the ballrooms corners. He was holding a glass filled with sweet smelling liquor, his hand so tightly wrapped around it his knuckles were turning white. Peeta was sure it was going to burst into pieces in just a matter of seconds, so he quickly reached for Finnick’s hand, surprised to find little to no resistance as he took the glass away and set it on the table. The motion seemed to snap Finnick out of whatever trance he had been in, blinking at Peeta as if he were just now assessing his presence there.

“What?” was all he could manage to say, his eyes returning their focus to something far away, the feather of a muscle twitching as he grounded his jaw.

“What's wrong?” Peeta pushed, following the man's gaze in an attempt to understand what he was seeing that was making him so mad. Finnick had a temper, Peeta knew that, but it was always tightly concealed in that calm and easy-going facade he portrayed, his armor against everything. It took quite an effort to make him lose his composure.

“(y/n)” He answered, voice made of steel. Peeta frowned, eyes desperately trying to find what was going on, his chest tightening at the mention of your name, “They dosed her drink with an aphrodisiac powder.”

Peeta’s whole body froze, his eyes snapping back to the man beside him.

“What do you mean aphrodisiac powder, what the hell even is that?”

But Peeta could already imagine what it meant, what they were doing it for. Anger rose in his blood like fire, pumping into his heart, beating so fast it was starting to make it hard for him to breathe -

“Finnick” He managed to get out, hand coming up to grab the man’s arm, turning him to face him.

“I recognized this man talking to Snow earlier” Finnick began, his eyes closing as one of his hands came to massage his temple, as if a piercing headache was making it hard for him to think “He is the one who arranges the customers for-,” he took a deep breath before opening his eyes to meet Peeta's wide ones “ the special services from the victors the capitol sometimes provides”

His stomach churned in a way that threatened to make Peeta vomit every expensive item of food he had ingested tonight, right on the pristine marble floor. He knew exactly what Finnick was talking about. Haymitch had told him about this business Snow ran, a way for him to further control the victors, make them pay for whatever rule breaking he deemed was done on their game, threatening their family’s life as a cost of it. But (y/n) had won fair, she had outsmarted the players, not the capitol, she didn't deserve this, she-

“I have been watching this man all evening, analyzing his moves, trying to figure out who Snow had sold to him,” Finnick continued, interrupting Peeta’s running thoughts. “It was easy enough to discover, with the way he has been practically stalking (y/n) all night.” An exasperated sigh escaped his lips “But something is different this time. He hasn't come up to talk to her and she is completely oblivious to him, as if she doesn't know what Snow has done, as if she hasn't been warned what would happen if she denies”

Her family, massacred. Peeta swallowed, his throat painfully dry all of a sudden.

“That’s when I noticed what he was doing” Finnick’s hands bawled into fists by his sides, his eyes returning to scan the room before returning to Peeta’s, “They are drugging her, filling her with aphrodisiac poison that will make her unable to think of anything more than sex. They are making her into a puppet so they can take advantage of her, avoiding the resistance, the threats, the compromise on her part.”

“That is sick” Peeta breathed out, feeling lightheaded and utterly disgusted.

“People here in the capitol are absolutely rotten” Finnick spat, “I have been a victim of that drug before. It is so potent, it makes it physically painful to deny sex, it forces the body to need it on a primal level, triggering an almost survival instinct.”

Peeta cringed at the thought of Finnick, barely a teen, being a subject to all this.

“We have to do something, we have to save her” Peeta rushed through whispered words, his eyes looking around them in search of anyone who could be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Yes” Finnick agreed, “But we must do it inconspicuously, or they could end up hurting her even more.”

“What is your plan?” Peeta’s breathing eased a little, his chest loosening at the reminder of Finnick’s clever mind.

“Once the effects of the drugs kick in, she will quickly excuse herself to the bathroom. There, I will intercept the man, distract him. Make a big scene if I must.” The ghost of a smirk pulled at Finnick’s lips at the thought, before it was quickly wiped away as he continued “You will find (y/n) and get her the hell out of here, but not to her room. They will be probably expecting her there” Peeta shuddered at the thought, nodding at Finnick.

“Where is she now?” Peeta inquired, his eyes returning to the crowd, unable to find the girl in question.

“Near Snow’s fountain, to the left side of the room. She is talking to a man with a neon green top hat.”

Peeta found you instantly then, the loud pounding of his heart in his ears drowning any other sound. You looked so beautiful, he couldn't help to notice, with your hair pulled away from your face in an elegant updo, filled with colored jewels that caught and reflected every light on the ball room, like a beacon. Your dress was made of black jewels as well, hugging every hill and dip of your body in an exquisite way, a slit on the side of your hip revealing the tan skin of your right leg. And your smile, so bright as you laughed at some joke the man before you had uttered, it took his breath away- until he realized how your chest was moving rapidly, as if the air entering your lungs wasn't enough, at how your skin was covered in a sheen of sweet, some stray away hairs curling around the nape of your neck and around your face, and at the way your hands had begun to tremble, hiding the away by clasping them tightly behind your back.

“It is starting,” Finnick commented, straightening his shoulders as if preparing himself to move. Peeta did the same, struggling to calm his fast beating heart.

You offered the man another smile, this one polite, apologetic. The man dipped his head and moved out of your way, allowing you to begin moving into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, towards the other side of the room, where the bathrooms were located. Finnick nodded at Peeta, signaling to start moving the same way as you. They got to there first, and Finnick leaned forward to whisper right on Peeta’s ear, in a gesture that seemed like a warm goodbye from a friend to the ignorant eye.

“I will go for the man, you grab (y/n) and leave right away, don't waste time on explanations until you are both alone and safe.”

Peeta nodded, clasping his back as reassurance. He could do this, he told himself, willing his body to calm down, to gather his anxious thoughts.

Before Finnick finally pulled away, he added in a tense, almost somber tone, so lowly his words almost got forgotten among the chattering crowd.

“Do what you must to help her, she’ll be glad it was you and not someone else.”

Peeta’s brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask what Finnick meant by that, he was already being swallowed by the crowd, disappearing among the vibrant colors, the moving bodies, the discordant music that made Peeta’s teeth greet in discomfort.

Peeta moved onto the side of the bathroom door, acting as if his shoelace had been untied and crouching down to fix it, avoiding anyone starting a conversation with him that could complicate his inconspicuous escape.

It only took a couple of minutes before he heard your voice,

“S-Sorry, excuse me please” You sounded breathless, words tight in your throat, as if the mere effort to get them out was painful.

Peeta got up then, instantly identifying you making your way out of the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the bathroom. He walked up to you just as you took the door handle in your shaky hand, grabbing your wrist in a secure grip before pulling you along with him, without stopping to say anything. You gasped in shock, stumbling slightly over your feet before you could manage to keep up with his fast pace. You pulled at his hand in an attempt to be let go, but he ignored you, mind only focused on one thing-

The exit door, only a couple of steps away

“Peeta!” you exclaimed as you finally recognized him, struggling to maintain a composure, smile wavering between a frown and a grimace of pain “What the fuck are you doing?” you whispered, feeling as though your vision was shaking, not being able to see people anymore, just shapes and colors merging together in a sickening spin-

You were going to throw up.

“I’m going to be sick” you pleaded, arm now falling limp on his firm grip, deciding to leave fate in his hands- unable to do anything to resist, and knowing deep down Peeta would never hurt you.

Peeta’s heart squeezed on his chest as he heard you, and he opened his mouth to explain -what? he did not know- anything to make you feel better, to help you understand what was going on,

But then a crushing sound vibrated across the room, making people gasp and scream in shock, their attention now focused on the other side of the room.

Finnick

Peeta let out a sigh of relief as he got to the entrance door, which was luckily open, not a peacekeeper in sight. He didn't waste a second to pull you out towards the main hall, where the elevator to the victor's rooms was.

“It will be alright (y/n), I promise” Peeta finally spoke, his voice just above a whisper, as he continued his way with unbreakable determination, both of your steps resonating against the glass floor the only sound in the spacious room “just trust me, okay?”

You felt as if Peeta’s voice was coming from underwater, muffled and far away- But still managed to understand.

“Okay” You replied, unable to voice any other word running through your dizzy brain - Your heart, you realized, it was beating so fast you couldn't catch a breath, and your skin, it felt so uncomfortable, so tight against your body- you wanted to rip it out. And the heat, the fucking heat

Peeta’s hand freed your wrist as he pressed the elevator’s button in a frantic pace, his other coming up to grip your hip, pushing so you stood in front of him, blocking the view of your body with his.

You were so close now, bodies almost pressed together. His smell invaded you like the most intoxicating, addictive perfume you had ever sensed, tightening your chest in a silent hitch of breath - And his touch- so firm and strong, fingers pressing down on the overly sensitive flesh on your hip witch was barely covered in the thin material of your jeweled gown- it set flames through your veins

Peeta heard the rush of voices coming down the hall, right from where you had come, before he felt their quick heels clad steps coming closer. Whatever Finnick had done, it had set a commotion enough to make people begin to retreat to their chambers in a hurry.

His eyes snapped to the elevator, the bright gold number still stuck on the 7th floor, and he realized it wasn't going to come by quick enough - They were already nearing the corner, they were going to catch the both of you, they were going to take you away and hurt you-

He secured your hand in his before he began to pull you further down the hall, your feet struggling to find their footing but managing not to stumble over them as you followed him. There was only one door in the hall, right on the end of it, a black metal block painted in bright gold. Peeta didn't bother to knock on it as he grabbed the handle, twisting it at the same time he pushed the side of his body on it to open it- and to his surprise and utter relief- it did. He didn't waste a second to push you inside, head twisting back one last time to see down the hall, where he noticed a couple of people beginning to appear, their vibrant colors striking against the pristine white walls and gold floor details.

He closed the door behind him, leaving out the light from the hall, engulfing you both in complete darkness. He let out a long breath, his head dropping back against the door frame, a chuckle leaving his chest before he could stop it.

You tried to blink back the darkness, but your eyes were still struggling to adjust. Something was very wrong, you realized, as you couldn't seem to make the air from the space enter your lungs. You stepped back from the man in front of you in an attempt to gain some distance and ground yourself, but you felt the cool jab of metal meet your back- you twisted on the spot, freeing your hand from Peeta’s as you extended your arms in front of you. And you felt, to your utter horror, how on every side you were met with metal railings or the cool feeling of painted concrete walls.

The space was tiny. A closet, of some sorts, you figured with a leap of your heart.

“I can't” you gasped aloud, one hand coming up to clutch your chest, pulling at the absurd number of necklaces that had been wrapped around your neck- it felt as if you were choking “I can't breathe.”

Peeta’s hands were instantly extended in search of you, his eyes wide in an attempt to see something, but only being met with darkness.

“It is okay, hey, I’m here” He whispered, one of his hands brushing your shoulder. The contact made electricity run down your body, and you twisted in an attempt to get away from his touch, managing only to bump into the railing so hard, their contents began to fall onto the floor-

Peta cursed under his breath at the loud sound of stuff crashing against the glass floor, his heart drumming onto his chest as he felt the footsteps from outside alarmingly close.

“Hey, hey calm down” He tried again, his hand grabbing your shoulder this time. And you tried to twist away again, desperate to get away from the warmth, the heat of his body, his burning touch-

it was too much, too much

You pushed into the railing again making it crash against the wall in a loud bang.

“(y/n)” Peeta rushed, his voice tight on his chest in anxiousness. But you didn't hear him, wouldn't hear him, needing to get away, desperately trying to do so-

Peeta felt the voices outside begin to wonder what those noises down the hall were, their loud cackling dimming down as if to hear better. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before somebody came up to investigate,

“Calm down” He ordered, voice low, almost a murmur. You could feel it vibrating on your chest, “We have to stay quiet, or they will find us.”

You tried to reason with his words, to obey, to understand what the fuck was going on - but then a pang of pain shot down your belly, taking the air from your lungs in a rush of a breath, before settling in a tight coil of aching between your legs. It made a whine fall from your lips before you could stop it, eyes closing as you hugged your body tightly.

Peeta’s heart stopped when he felt nearing footsteps, arms shooting forward when he heard your loud whine of pain at the same time, determined now to make you quiet. One hand found your hip as the other your arm, and he didn't waste a second to twist your bodies, so you stood with your back pressed to his chest. One of his strong arms circled your waist, locking you into him in a grip so tight you couldn't move an inch, as his other hand came to your face, palm pressing onto your mouth to silence any noise.

And just like that, your senses cleared, they sharpened, they focused and circled on only one thing-

Him.

The way his warm body was pressed to yours, the feeling of his strong muscled arm wrapped around your waist, the way his chest pushed against you in every intake of breath, the feeling of his heart pounding so loud and fast against your back- and his god damn smell, so sweet and dark and intoxicating- it made the coil deep within your core tighten painfully, breath hitching on your throat.

Peeta strained his ear to hear whatever was going on outside, the footsteps stopping just inches away, its shadow casting beneath the door frame. But it was so hard to concentrate on anything else that the way for body felt pressed to his - so warm he thought you might be having a fever- and the way you were breathing so hard and fast, you were panting against his hand- but he could notice, he could see how much you were trying to do as he said, to stay still and be quiet, even if you were in so much discomfort

“That’s it, calm down” He whispered, lowering his head so his lips were pressed to your ear, making sure only you could hear him. “You are doing so good” he praised, the words warm against your skin.

The way he phrased those words was enough to make a shiver run through your spine and make your head spin with desire. You hadn't noticed the way you had begun to press further onto him, almost as if desperate to be closer, to feel him even further. And his hand, his fucking hand had begun to rub the side of your waist in a comforting way,

You were melting. But you wanted more, you needed more-

Peeta tried to ignore the way you had begun to move against him, how your breathing had changed to something deeper, how your mouth let slip little whines and moans against his hand. He knew it was the drug's effect, he knew you couldn't help it, he knew he had to maintain a clear head, to take care of you and make sure you stayed safe.

And then you felt it, as you ground your body against his, you felt something hard begin to press against your ass. It made something in you snap, a need so desperate and maddening, it made fire rush through your veins as if boiling from the inside out- it made your brain drunk and fuzzy with desire- and the pain, the excruciating coil tightening between your legs, it was too much, too much.

Peeta felt your hand suddenly grip his, moving his arm away from your hip. He felt almost in a daze, as if unable to stop you as you moved it down your body. His breath hitched in your ear as you pressed his hand right between your legs, where you needed him the most. The thin material of your jeweled gown was the only thing standing between his fingers and your pussy- he could feel how warm you were, and cursed aloud when he noticed also how wet.

“We can't” He whispered; voice slightly breaking as he felt you increase the pressure of his fingers “They have drugged you with an aphrodisiac. You are not thinking straight-”

A moan slipped through your lips, muffled by his hand still pressed against your mouth. Peeta's eyes strained on the doorframe, noticing the shadow gone. He almost sighed in relief, until he felt the loud chuckles coming from outside-

they were still there.

Your brain couldn't comprehend anything else but the need for him. A need that was becoming so strong, the pain was unbearable. You could feel tears swell in your eyes as you gasped, your other hand coming up to push away his own from your mouth.

“Please, Peeta, I can't take this anymore- I” you choked on a whine when you felt his other hand slip from away from your body “-I need you, please, just help me.”

You pleaded, head dropping back against his shoulder in utter defeat.

Peeta cursed again, eyes tightening shut as he searched for the will to contain himself, to find a way to reason with you, to make you understand how this was so wrong-

But then he remembered Finnick's words. ‘Do what you must to help her,’ what did he even mean? Was this the only way you could go through this? You would hate him for it, Peeta thought, taking advantage of you like this- but you were in pain, you were literally crying and shaking in his arms, he couldn't stand seeing you like this, it was breaking him-

“Please” you whined, your own hand coming between your legs to relieve some of the pressure there in a futile attempt- you felt absolutely nothing.

“Okay” he murmured against your ear, telling it more to himself than to you, making up his mind. “How can I help you, (y/n), just tell me how.”

You sigh in relief at his words, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Touch me” you whispered, breathless “Please.”

Peeta felt lightheaded with the way you were so desperate, so needy for him. In any other circumstance, he would have given away with the first please ever uttered from your beautiful lips- because you were always so composed, so strong, so unwavering- hearing you like this was making him almost as desperate for you as you were for him.

“Please what?” Peeta couldn't help to reply, his voice just as breathless as yours, beginning to move his arms, tentatively resting his hands on your hips.

You groaned in frustration, beginning to push yourself away from him so you could turn around to face him when you felt one of his strong hands spread across your abdomen, pushing you right back against him. He was so strong, you couldn't help but think, imagining his hands pushing and pulling other parts, handling you as if it were nothing-

“Please, Peeta” you begged.

Peeta melted at the sound of those tight words in your throat.

“So polite” he praised, finally moving one hand to the side of your hip where the slit of your gown began. His callous warm fingers met your bare skin there and you sighed in content “Such a good girl” he whispered, mouth pressing down just below your right earlobe, in that sensitive spot that felt to good it sent tingles down your body and made you moan out loud before you could stop it-

Peeta’s other hand instantly moved to cover your mouth once again, roughly pushing your head back against his shoulder.

“What was that?” A woman’s voice exclaimed from the hall outside, filled with delight “Sounds like someone’s having a good time!”

Peeta cursed on your ear, the words sounding even more coarse coming out of his mouth.

You whimpered, unable to take the pain between your legs any longer- your heart was beating so fast, it seemed as if you couldn't catch your breath, your skin so taut you thought it might snap over your bones, and the heat- you thought you might pass out

“Shh it’s okay” Peeta tried to calm you, his eyes glued to the shadows now outside of your door. Had they figured someone was inside here? “Be quiet doll, you can do it.”

You nodded your head in a haze, desperate to show him you would do anything he said.

Peeta knew you couldn't take it any longer, practically limp in his arms, trembling in his grip. He took in a shaky deep breath before he began to move the hand on your hip underneath the surprisingly thin material of your gown. Your skin was so smooth and soft, and so, so warm- Peeta had to take a minute to just caress between your hip and upper thigh, savoring the feeling of your tender flesh beneath his rough fingers - before he heard your impatient cry from within his hand covering your mouth. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the shadows beneath the door begin to move away, using the courage to finally dip his fingers between your thighs. His breath hitched when he noticed you didn't have anything under your gown, being met with your bare pussy right beneath his finger, hand freezing in place as the realization of what he was doing, and to whom, dawned on him.

He was about to fuck (y/n), districts four beloved 73rd hunger games victor.

“You are killing me” you mumbled against his palm, desperately pushing your hips forward in an attempt to increase the pressure of his fingers where you needed him most. So, he dipped his hand further, his muscled arm tensing over your belly as he did, bringing you flushed against him. And his fingers, ever so slowly, began to part your folds, his eyes closing as his head dropped down to lean on your shoulders at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers, smoothing his entrance. You bit his hand in an attempt to quiet the moan bubbling on your chest, head pushing back against his shoulder in an attempt to get a grip on yourself.

“So good” he murmured, lips tightly pressed to your ear “So good, so quiet.”

You could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to rub your wetness up and down, right over the bundle of nerves that send electric waves of pleasure down your body. One of your hands came down to grip his arm, pushing it down with further force- Peeta instantly knew what you wanted, what it meant- and he obliged, increasing the pressure and pace of his fingers.

The people outside began to cheer for something, the noise followed by clapping. Peeta didn't waste a second to remove his hand against your mouth, moving it down to your chin as he pushed your head further back, adjusting so his ear was right over your mouth-

“Let me hear you doll” He breathed, his fingers quickening their pace almost desperately so- feeling so good it made your toes curl and your thighs squeeze around his hand. And you moaned, so desperate and needy it would have embarrassed you if it weren't for the fact that that was exactly how you felt for him.

“Peeta” you choked out in a gasp right on his ear, and that was enough to make Peeta lose his mind, a low groan escaping from his own lips, the sound so deep and hoarse it vibrated on his chest.

You could feel his erection pressed on your backside, so hard you knew we wanted you just as much at the moment. And you wanted to feel him, God, it was all you could have ever wanted, so you started to move your hand to your back- until you felt his hand suddenly stop, making you freeze in place. You could hear his ragged breathing, feel his heart pounding against your back-

“Look at me,” He whispered, interrupting the sudden silence. You opened your eyes, surprised to notice how they had adjusted to the darkness, able to see the outlines of the door, the metal railing filled with cleaning supplies- you were in fact, in a closet. And then you looked up, finding his beautiful face before you.

He was so handsome; you had noticed that the first time you saw him. With his big, deep brown eyes and breathtaking smile. And now, with his messy blonde hair, his parted soft lips, his completely darkened eyes-

He looked delicious.

“You are absolutely beautiful” he murmured, the hand on your chin moving up to cup the side of your face. “(y/n)” he continued, a deep breath leaving his lips, fanning your own. You wanted to taste him so badly “You are not on your right mind, this is not what you want.”

You shook your head, exasperated.

“I want you so badly” you voiced in a shuddering breath “If you don't touch me right now, I think I might die.”

You used his stun position to free from his grasp, finally turning so you were face to face. He looked completely disheveled, his white tux discarded on the floor, and his matching shirt completely wrinkled, the first buttons torn and revealing a slit of tanned skin.

“I-” He began but you couldn't resist any longer, shutting him up with a kiss.

His hands were on you instantly, pulling at your hips to position you flush against him, to then wrap his arms around your waist to lock you in place. Your hand snaked to the back of his head, where you tangled them on his hair, slightly pulling it just to hear him groan again- it felt like fuel to the fire inside you. You used the moment to deepen the kiss, meeting his warm tongue inside his mouth. The kiss was desperate, hungry, lips moving feverishly against each other.

Peeta forgot about everything else, about the people on the other side of the door, about getting caught- he could only think about you, about feeling you against him, your lips on his, your tongue on his mouth- he wanted more. His hands began to roam your body, testing, feeling, kneading your soft flesh in a grip so strong you knew would certainly leave bruises. And then they were on your ass, squeezing so tight you moaned against his mouth- and he was lifting you up from the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist-

“I need you” You panted against his lips, finally breaking the kiss. The coil in your lower stomach feeling even more unbearable, the pain was making you see white dots in the corner of your vision “I need you inside me.”

Peeta leaned his forehead to yours, attempting to regain control of himself, to think straight. He sat your body against the railing, separating enough so he could see your face, meet your eyes.

And he stared at you, almost in awe before he spoke again, dropping his head back as if to force himself to stop doing it any longer.

“Your eyes” he breathed out, “they shine so black when you are hot for me.”

You cupped his face between your warm hands, forcing him to face you as you once again begged-

“please”

Peeta wanted nothing more than to oblige - he would have lifted your gown and fucked you right there against the railings- but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn't, not when you were under the effects of a drug that altered your senses, your reasoning.

So, he compromised. Not doing anything was torture to you, or so he told himself, moving so one of his arms could fit between both of your bodies while the other began to lift your gown and gather it just over your hips.

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet?” He panted, his ears once again registering the commotion outside. Seemed like they moved the party to the hall, he realized, glad that the noise had gone louder, hiding what was going on in the little storage closet down the corridor.

“Yes” you whimpered, unable to contain the tears swelling in your eyes due to the pain, and the excitement-

Such a wreck for him, Peeta thought, brain drunk in desire.

“You are the one killing me, (y/n)” he murmured, holding your gaze with eyes so intense you thought he might be looking through you.

And then his hand was between your legs again, slowly rubbing your wet folds, surprised at how they were more so than before. He quicken up the pace faster this time, taking his time in enjoying every sinful sound falling from your lips, your head falling back to lean against the railing- you gasped when you felt his other hand grip your chin, thumb and index finger pressing against your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes

“Look at me” he panted, and you thought you might cum just by the way he was looking at you with so much hunger-

And then you gasped in shock as without a warning two of his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb continuing to rub on your sensitive clit. Pleasure shocked through your body making you involuntary shake against the rails, the pressure on your lower abdomen coiling impossibly tighter-

“I'm gonna-” you whined, head leaning forward to try and find somewhere to lean on, but Peeta’s grip held you there on place, forcing you to face him.

“Say please” He breathed, lips hovering over yours, his fingers moving in and out of you with the perfect pressure, the perfect pace, and his thumb-

“Peeta” you whimpered.

He could feel how close you were, how your walls clenched around his fingers in the most delicious way- he thought he was close himself to climax, just by the way your face scrunched with pleasure, how your body became undone under his touch-

“Come on doll, ask nicely” He encouraged, needing to hear you beg, just one more time.

“Please” you managed moan.

And he was merciless about it, plunging his fingers into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing against your clit feverishly, curling his fingers and hitting just the perfect spot-

You become undone with his name on your lips, waves of pleasure erupting from deep within your tummy as the tight coil finally released, toes curling and body jerking. He slowed the pace of his fingers as he continued to ride you out of your orgasm, your shaking body finally collapsing into his, blind with gratification and exhaustion.

Peeta panted against your ear as he finally removed his fingers from inside you, proceeding to hold you tight against him before he lowered you from the railing back onto your feet- until he quickly realized you couldn't stand on your own, arms wrapping securely around your waist and across your back to hold you in place, your own coming up to snake around his neck in a solid embrace.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, his breathing still ragged, heart pounding loudly against your chest pressed to his- you on the other hand, were completely crashing, blood pressure dropping, white stars dancing in the back of your close eyelids.

“hmm” you hummed, struggling to remain conscious.

“I think they left” Peeta voiced his thoughts, frowning in concentration as he listened for any noise outside- but it was completely quiet, he soon realized.

You didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, brain completely fogged with satisfaction, body finally out of pain and completely relaxed on his arms, as if meant to be there all along.

“(y/n)” Peeta shook you, his tone finally above a whisper “Hey, I need you to stay here yeah? stay with me.”

You tried to nod but your head just fell limp against his shoulder-

He smelled so fucking good.

“Thank you?” He replied, amusement clear on his breathless words.

You hadn't realized you had voiced your thoughts out loud, a soft chuckle scaping your lips.

“You are completely out of it, aren't you” He sighed, leaning over you so he rested his chin on top of your head, attempting to calm himself down.

You frowned at the height difference, moving your feet, and realizing you were barefoot, heels completely lost somewhere in the tiny closet.

Once Peeta finally could catch his breath, heart in a slightly normal pace, he stepped closer to the door, your almost limp body secure in his strong arms. He pushed the side of his face flat against the cool metal, concentrating on identifying any sound that could indicate someone on the other side but-

Nothing. Silence.

“Okay” He murmured, nodding “Okay, we are going to come out, yes?”

You mumbled a reply, what? you didn't know, but it was enough to make Peeta nod again. You felt him loosen his grip on you making you react on clinging to him with all your strength, desperate to avoid the loss of contact.

“Hey, I’m here, I won't leave you” He assured you, hands pushing you by the hips to create some space between the two- and you were so completely weak, barely registering your body at all, that you couldn't avoid the separation.

You frowned, opening your mouth to try and object, when you were suddenly being lifted from the ground and up on his arms again, this time in bridal style, with one of his arms holding under your knees as the other secured around your back.

“Romantic” you gushed, chuckling again.

Peeta rolled his eyes, sheepish smile tugging at his lips, as he adjusted his body so his hand could twist the handle and open the door. He loosens a breath he didn't know had been holding as he registered the hall with quick assessing eyes, noticing it completely deserted.

You tried to blink at the sudden light, but it took just a couple of blinks before your eyes dropped closed again, as if the weight of them was impossible to overcome.

“Your room is not safe” He murmured, beginning to make his way to the elevator with you tightly held on to his arms “We will go to mine.”

You nodded, the pull of unconsciousness so strong you were sure it was only a matter of seconds before you were out- so you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms across his neck and positioning your face right at the nape of his neck, where his smell washed over you and his warmth seeped to your skin.

And just like that, you were out with a content smile plastered on your face.

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #peeta mellark/reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta smut #peeta x reader #peeta my beloved #peeta mellark x you #thg #peeta x reader smut #the hunger games smut #peeta mellark/you #peeta mellark imagine #ao3

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comfortless · 7 months

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Everything you write leaves me breathless <333

Sorry in advance for my English

I was thinking about König, (maybe in an ancient rome/Greek settling) being so alone and desperate for connection that he turns to religion: one day he's walking in the woods, deep in thought, when he finds an abandoned temple. The inside is small but lavish, with a life sized statue of what must be its goddess. He sees this lovely sculpture, abandoned and alone and sees himself in her. He becomes a dedicated, fanatic and soso lovestruck worshipper. Unknownly to him his goddess, woken by his prayers, has been watching him and listening to him. One day while he's praying in front of her her statue moves and talks and now his deity is in front of him. Looks like he has an opportunity to worship her like she deserves ;)

granting you ten million kissies for this prompt and your sweet words! your English is perfect, little wisp! <3 also… giving me an excuse to write more loner/loner and mutual worship?! you have spoken to my heart…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical/myth au; vague time period, brief mentions of violence, fluff, pining, not very explicit smut, mutual worship.

The spirit of the temple feels disorienting, though the architecture is a still, white marble, the floor riddled with leaves and dirt, creeping up the sides of the building as if river water had washed the entire thing ashore… Something feels very alive here, feathered out on the air, a pulse of thunder, the breeze beneath dove’s wings, enthused and yawning. Hungry.

It only becomes more apparent the closer he steps to the statue.

She is unlike any he has ever seen before, carved with the same skill, but so much smaller than the other statues in their temples, so much more lifelike that he almost thinks to greet her. She’s been painted unlike most, a perfect vision bathed in color where she stands out amidst the sea of white and green surrounding her. The temple has not been stained with blood, no offering strewn before her bare feet, left for the rot or dragged away by the dainty hands of this very goddess. No maidens sit in prayer, no men lower there swords to her…

There’s nothing to tell him just who she is, either.

Despite his better judgment, his hand does find her side, a swift draw up from the vision of her thigh peeking from her robe upward to curl over her hip. Her beauty is unmatched, impossible to describe and the call seems almost tangible, shrieking at him in whispers to bend a knee and let her in. So, he does. He prays to her in the silence, alternating between whispers and his own thoughts.

He tells her of his struggles: a soldier brought in from a small tribe up north, robbed from his parents as a boy, how all he knew now were the Roman ways yet could rarely comprehend their customs and deities. Maybe she could offer him some counsel or solace…? Make the weight of his blade feel less heavy as he struck down men that could very well be his own brothers? Give him something to return to when old wounds reopened and he bled, hurt with no one but himself to tend to his heart or his injuries.

The goddess only blesses him with silence: the wind does not pick up outside, there is no disembodied laughter, no sudden thought of an offering or new words to speak to her. She is void of an answer just as the very temple she waits inside is empty of all else.

This does not dissuade him from returning.

Returning to the city after another battle some months later, his first thought is to return to her, to leave the things he’s taken from dead men at her feet, to paint the temple with the blood lingering on his weapon. There is honey, wine, meat and jewelry made of stones from the sea. There is brittle, dried flakes of blood polished from his blade and left to settle onto the floor like the leaves of late autumn. He presents these things to her with a grin, thinking that assuredly this goddess would call back to him then, grant him with a love so consuming that all of the evasion and emptiness cursed upon him would be untwined.

He kneels before her statue, presses his cheek to her thigh, sighs content at the feel of cold marble against the ever-burning of his flesh, gazes up at her like an adoring dog.

Assuredly, if this temple were built for a being that did exist at all she would know just how she was all that this lonesome soldier had, would know the way that he loved her and waited with bated breath and heartstrings pulled taut for her to love him in turn. A greedy, begging muzzle that utters his prayers, words he’s never spoken to anyone whether deity or mortal, only to her in the quiet of the forest.

It’s not madness that provokes him, but the gentleness of her face and the tender look in her eyes, an expression that no other had ever offered to him, no one but this little forgotten goddess. Whether pitying or loving, he did not know. It was only enough to keep him returning: for many days, his path from the city led straight to her feet, even some nights were spent lying upon her floor, finding peace finally being able to sleep next to something apart from lonely walls.

The sun rises and sets each day where he sits and speaks to her as though she were a living, breathing woman. Occasionally he reads aloud to her in the stillness, cheekily tells her when another goddess’ name is brought up within the lines of poetry that they could never hope to compare.

It’s ridiculous when he does not even know what purpose she serves, but this silent figure is his only companion, the only thing that sets his heart ablaze and mind focused in battle because above all else, he has to return to her. Though she can not share his words, he knows somehow that she shares in his loneliness.

Finally, he thinks to ask her the question that has been burning at the tip of his tongue for weeks and months. One, that he has tried to hold back, display a patience that he lacks. It’s after a night of sleeping on cold marble, an ache in his neck from its hardness and his own refraining from bringing a cushion from his own home in his desperation to return to her.

“Why won’t you speak?,” he asks, somber as he makes his way to leave the temple, only halting in place to cast her a fragile look from over his shoulder. He has read the epics, heard the stories and seen the blessings of other deities… Yet no matter what he does or how often he tethers himself to her leg and dotes upon her, she still meets his devotion with nothing but her silence in return.

König is left with the thought that his gifts are not enough, that he, himself, is not enough, even as her sole devotee. To keep his mind preoccupied, he keeps to the city for a time. The bed is cold, the people still see him as a barbaric outsider, and the horrible coil wound around his heart only seems to tighten its grip further. He feels as though he has left a part of himself out there in the forest within the four chalked walls of her temple.

This loneliness does not feel like one he is forced to swallow down, it feels like a vicious sort of ache, the twisting of a dagger beneath ribs to sink in and steal away what little of a life he does have.

He returns to her the following night, with a furrowed brow and a grave look upon his face. There’s an intent to demand she free him of her, that this longing finally pass, but as his sandals reach the entrance to the temple, those thoughts fall away from his mind like droplets of rain, a cool drizzle that begins to fall outside the very moment he is sheltered.

The statue— the goddess moves.

She tilts her head and inspects him fondly, the perfect mouth he has envisioned speaking to him so many times prior tilts upward in the gentlest smile as her bare feet move to carry her body forward.

“A test,” she explains as though answering his question from only the past day, almost saddened by her own words as her gaze lowers to the space between them.

König’s heart does not roar then, it only melts with the knowledge that someone like her has been left alone for so, so very long that she felt the need to prove to herself that he would return to her side. He would. Time and time again he would. When she raises her head to look him in the eye, her own clouded and misty, he only silently prays that she could see such a vow upon his face.

“I am worthy then?,” he questions, forcing himself to remain rigidly in place despite the call- the urge, to circle her, just once, drop at her feet to then feel her pulse beneath his fingertips. Anything. Even an assurance would be reward enough, but there is always a greed in the hearts of men, one he feels burning a hole through his very being even now.

Her lips press to a line and her gaze seems faraway, lost in her own thoughts that must be as mighty as Olympus itself. After a time, she only answers in a soft whisper, “It is I who am unworthy of you.”

All discordance in his chest pulls to a halt at this, all apprehension and sadness are whisked away when she instead comes to kneel before him. She curls her arms around his leg, presses her cheek to his thigh as he had done so many times before. The goddess gazes up at him with not just affection… but reverence, as though he were the strongest warrior of myth, deserving of even the love of something only as ethereal and sweet as she could provide.

His breath catches for a mere moment before he lowers himself at her side. The stares exchanged from both are full of an unspoken wonderment, all of the things that words alone would fail to speak in truth.

He waits out the rain there, sat beside her with the air surrounding them charged with such a great and unspoken affection that even Venus would taste a bitter envy on her tongue should she pass by to see.

She tells him she can not recall what she was the goddess of… or if she was ever truly any goddess at all. The marble surrounding her was put up for a purpose, but she’s never seen the Elysian Fields or climbed Olympus on her own. Her memories are scattered blurs, and she confesses that she feels tired when she tries to parse things together in a way that he will understand.

He listens while he tends to her by offering the honey and dried meat left in offering for her here, then fetches fresh water from the stream that brooks several yards away and returns to her side with a face both damp and flushed.

König tells her of his life too, how during every battle since stumbling upon this sacred place he has kept her in mind; he has no wife to return to, no other women to bed, that since their meeting his life has become hers. He confesses he had the intention of returning only to force a curse upon this madness that had enveloped him, but… he could never have brought himself to do so, even if she had not appeared to him warm and breathing.

Her laugh then could have prompted waves of flowers to bloom and birds to sing in tune, whimsical and so precious he only begins to feel himself fall, truly. Not out of sheer desperation, but with genuine affection.

When her exhaustion does take her, she does not mind the way his arm curls around her middle to tuck her body closer to his own. The goddess has no fury within her, only mirrors his own feelings with a fluttering of lashes and a soft sigh.

So she sleeps, pulled close to him like a lover rather than a stranger. When dawn breaks, when König knows he’s to be called back to train and fight with the other soldiers, have dull talks about what land to cross and take for their own next, she tells him she will wait there for his return.

He can not concentrate as well on his training this day. The plans for future wars and battles do not send flurries, hot excitement through him. The world is an endless gray, reflected above with darkened clouds threatening further rain. There is only one place he wishes to be, one that yearns for him more than his own home or the women waiting on the street for coins the other men readily supply. When one, a native Roman, does ask him why he does not just venture to the brothel to put himself in better spirits, König only grits his teeth to still his hand from quieting him eternally. These men knew nothing of the love he feels, and certainly they didn’t deserve to.

The temple is no different from how he found it the night prior. The goddess sits with her hands curled in her lap, smiling just as fondly at him as she had before. His heart shatters at the thought that she had sat there waiting for him in such a way all day. He swears to her that he will have a proper bed made for her, bring her the softest of furs and cushions stuffed with downy feathers to lie upon. For now his offering is only fruit and wine, things that she shares with him while she shushes his concerns with quiet words and gratitude that he had returned.

She lowers herself again before him after pulling her robe free and lying it upon the floor. It is no proper bedding at all, but she swears that it is enough, that his own warmth is just enough for her to be sated and comfortable. His head swims when she kisses his thigh, drags her lips up from his knee to rest there with that reverent look in her eye. Mortals coupling with deities was not unheard of, but to think it could happen to him…

She is a goddess. How is he supposed to… How could he ever dirty her with himself? He thinks to refuse her before she tugs away the barrier of fabric between them and takes him into her mouth. Stunned, he only watches her, feels her in a way he has never felt a woman before until he finds his voice again.

“Lie down,” he breathes, shaky and tentative as he rests his hand upon her cheek. She complies, giddy and content when she’s splayed out on the white robe beneath her, legs parting immediately and her arms reaching upward to invite him into her hold.

There’s no tact when he lies atop her, feels the warmth of her thighs around him and her arms curled over his neck. His forehead is pressed to her own when togetherness is found, and when she sighs so soft as she envelops him in full, his mouth descends upon her own.

She doesn’t praise him, doesn’t need to in words, because the muffled sounds and cries that leave her lips are more than enough to spear him onward. König, however… he babbles ceaselessly, overwhelmed and overcome by such a profound joy, he can not keep himself from reciting every word that comes to mind, whether vile or pure.

“My goddess,” he whispers into her hair, eyes half-lidded and dazed with each shallow thrust. “We could have had this for a season… you have made me wait so long, hm?”

The way she feels is unmatched, he thinks, when her breathing shudders and she only seems to constrict him further. To think he could bring a goddess to ruin… the grin that crosses his face when he pushes his head against her neck is bordering on both ecstatic and cruel.

“I will give you a demigod,” he hisses against her throat, not at all subtle about just how far he was willing to go to keep her here. With him. More than Olympus, she belonged beneath him, and the tremor that wracks her form then is all of the confirmation he would need.

She sobs his name when the tension becomes too much to bear, fingernails graze the flesh of his shoulders as she shudders, falls into such bliss that her words of praise come incoherent and weak. He follows her to a saccharine abyss with a guttural groan.

The aftermath is softer than any other moment he has shared with her. There are an abundance of kisses pressed between them, littered across her flesh and his own with whispers that leave his mind cloudy. Her worship is subtle by comparison to his own, coming in honeyed stares and such words he would never dare to repeat, no lowly poet deserved to ever hear them, their voices could never compare to her own.

The goddess holds him close, bumps his nose with her own and makes a promise; she tells him for as long as he shall live that this temple was as much his home as it were his own. That even when this body of his does die, she will seek him out in the Elysian Fields, lie at his feet as he had done her own; that no matter what may come, they will never be apart.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #storing your other request for now angel! <3 #someone kick me and make me write! so sorry to anyone who has sent something in that i have not gotten around to just yet #i see them and i promise i am working through them! my heart soars any time i am entrusted with a König prompt!

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anlian-aishang · 9 months

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Tags: levi ackerman x reader, mutual pining [coworkers] to smut, only one bed, non-sexual spitting, alcohol mention, reader wears levi’s shirt, cunnilingus, penetration, modern AU, fem!reader Word count: 10,000 A/N: thank you to @lostinwildflowers for betaing this! Birch is one my writing idols, so I am truly honored. I hope you enjoy <3

This can’t be happening.

Unknowingly, the two of you shared a silent sentiment. After a late taxi, long lines of airport security, and racing to the terminal only to be delayed for several hours, the cherry on the shit sundae - as he would put it - was the midnight arrival to a hotel with only one bed.

“You’re sure?”

The look on the nervous teenager’s face conveyed the answer before he even uttered the question. Still, Levi knew he had to ask, audibly enough for you to hear - just so you would know that he did. In the face of liability, you had to acknowledge that he had tried his best.

“I’m really sorry, sir.” Their eyes were darting in panic between you and Levi as if you were the antidote to this angry customer. But he wasn’t angry, at least, not at them. Wasn’t the brat’s fault that Erwin booked the wrong room. “I have that in the afternoon of September the 15th, E. Smith booked a single king bed for one adult guest.”

“Two adult guests.”

They shared a lengthy eye contact. From the background, you watched their miscommunication unfold and cringed with secondhand embarrassment. You nearly burst into nervous laughter when they shrugged, “I can provide you with extra complimentary toiletries.”

At his sides, Levi unclenched his fists in defeat, “...We’ll manage.”

The plastic key cards made a satisfying sound as the receptionist slid them across the marble countertop - equal and opposite to the dissatisfaction on Levi’s face. In one smooth motion, he handed you your copy while simultaneously whipping out his cell phone. Two clicks - speed dial and call. Two rings - Erwin answered.

You couldn’t hear the other end, but you had your guesses.

Hello?

“You fucked up.”

Sorry?

“As you should be.”

For what?

“Stuffing two adults in one bed, what made you think we’d appreciate that accommodation?”

Given the looks you’ve been giving each other at the office, I thought you might.

Levi violently snapped his phone closed in hopes you couldn’t hear that. Thrusting his phone in his pocket, he used his free hand to snatch luggage from yours. “Give me that.”

A kind gesture, but irritation in his voice made it confusing. You thought to grab it back and insist that you could handle it, but instead, held your tongue. Clearly, he was steaming. Any objection, even a well-intended one, you doubted it would better his mood. Walking towards the lift, you concluded that nothing you had to say would supply ice to his ire. Though, the walk, time, and your calming presence, seemed to be working, you thought as you watched him delicately pad the UP button.

In the intimacy of the elevator, Levi allowed himself one venting word, “Idiot.” He sighed, placed his thumb and pointer finger on each of his temples, and rubbed wrinkles into his skin. “As if we haven’t already been through enough.”

Today and long before, the two of you had been through plenty together. Tonight was the first time you would pin it on Erwin. All other times, it had been your own selves and each other to blame.

He loved the way you looked in those small pencil skirts and see-through tights, but he hated what it did to him. Meetings in which he could only stare, absorbing nothing. In the middle of a phone call, when you walked by, he would forget its purpose and stammer aimlessly. Nights kept awake, staring at his ceiling, a blank canvas for projecting his wandering thoughts: how you would look with the skirt yanked up and the tights pulled down, how you took your outfit off after work, and if you wanted his help with that.

Countless times, you had cursed the man you crushed on. The way he ran his fingers through his hair when overworked made you want to try it yourself, to take his stressors away - or better yet - serve as the relief to them. On hot days, he loosened his top button. On lucky days, the top two. On his way out the door, he would tug his tie out from under his collar, creating a loop wide enough for you to slip your hand through and use it to pull his lips to yours - or so you imagined. Each day, Levi had fed you tastes. Over time, your craving for him had grown unbearable.

Ultimately, this out-of-town assignment was a test, and a final exam at that. Years of studying one another were culminating in one night, on one bed. The chime of the elevator interrupted your thoughts as if it was a warning: ground yourself. The plain of Levi’s expression and calm in his pace on the way to room 845 echoed its sense: he was unriled, uninterested.

Your read was wrong. Levi was thankful that you trailed him: with his back to you, you could not see his rouge tint, the bite of his lip, or the twitch of his cheek. As he pressed his key to the reader, held the heavy hotel door, and slugged both of your belongings atop the desk and dresser, you admired the way he moved so suavely - when actually, he considered his motions stiff, careful, and calculated.

Neither of you bothered to turn on the light. Taxed bodies, tired eyes, and tempted temperaments shared a desire to finally climb in bed. No need to delay things any longer. Levi unzipped his suitcase, the sound garnered your attention. Immediately, you noticed now neatly he had packed, admired his organization and pristine folds, then planned that when it came your time to unpack, you would aim to shield your messy methods from the clean freak’s vision.

A gray cotton tee - matching his eyes, black sweatpants - same shade as his hair. A navy canvas travel bag topped the pile. Levi leaned effortlessly against the white bathroom door and stated, “I’ll change in here.”

You nodded vehemently, as if he had ordered you on an important mission, “I’ll be out here.”

Cute. And at that intrusive thought, he silently ducked away.

Unbuckling his belt, tugging his zipper, freeing his legs from his slacks, Levi tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. Every muscle in his body finally untensed, he was set free from one cage of many. His business-casual confines had been done away with. Now, he just had professionalism, work relationships, and his fucking hormones to maintain.

His boxer briefs were agitatingly taut, struggling to constrain years’ worth of tension in their cotton threads. Levi looked down to his lap and cursed himself. Hovering around thirty, yet all the composure of a fresh young bachelor. Gradually, Levi hooked his thumb beneath the elastic waistband and loosened just a little, allowing him room to breathe. Too much room maybe as the chill thermostat air contrasted harshly with his warmed passion and drew a loud hiss. Levi clenched his teeth hard in an attempt to bar his vocals, praying to whatever power that you wouldn’t knock on the door and call Levi, you alright? It was just the kind of person you were, and Levi had come to know you well.

That anxiety turned out to be false, for your ears were ringing: ignorant of his desires, overwhelmed by your own. Gingerly, you unzipped your luggage and fret at the sight: a little black nightgown with lace on the hems. Its sight hit you like a load of bricks, lightning to the thunderous memory of your midnight, sleep-deprived, frantic packing. That woman was giddy for the business trip with her office crush and, in that frenzy, picked her sexiest pajamas for the special occasion. Goddammit! If only you knew that he wouldn’t be seeing it from across the room as a tease, he would be sleeping next to it, maybe even feeling it if one of you crossed your half of the mattress. Cursing yourself, you dug frantically in search of something - anything - else to wear to bed, but were rudely met with only pantsuits and blouses. You bunched your nightgown in your trembling fists, but its thinness and shortness allowed it to fit wholly in your hands - foiling your coping strategy. All you could do was tip your head back and sigh to the ceiling, Fuck me.

That feeling echoed when you draped it over yourself and saw your reflection in the hotel window. Your hair was disheveled from the long day. Makeup smeared and ran down your face, eyeliner to eyeshadow. Wrinkles in your silk dress. Looks like you were already fucked.

On the other side of the door, Levi was thinking the same thing: he was absolutely fucked. His erection stood high after minutes of waiting. Cold water splashed on his face, but his fever seemed to evaporate it. Trying to think about humbling topics, but he couldn’t get you off his mind. To make his arousal vanish, there was one thing he could do, but there wasn’t enough time for that. Even if the shower were running, Levi doubted that the downpour of water would be able to suppress the noises of slapping skin or his embarrassingly heightened vocals. Fuck. Levi clutched the bathroom countertop and sighed at his reflection. His exhale fogged the mirror just before he hung his head down and conceded. God, help me.

His prayers ignored, you ended up knocking on the bathroom door eventually: “Levi?”

Every nerve in his body froze. He stammered more times than he would have liked before managing a stern “What?”

“Sorry! I just -” humiliated heat seemed to radiate off of you, “- take your time, I just -”

Half listening, half panicking, Levi seemed not to pay mind to your take your time - stepping into his joggers and throwing on his shirt as fast as he could.

“- can I brush my teeth?”

You were startled when his response was a quick and loud turn of the handle, wordlessly letting you in. Levi was surprised to see you the way you were: temptress dress with a toothbrush and toothpaste innocently perched in each hand. The eye contact lasted for three seconds, but you could have sworn that it was that many years long.

The twitch of your hands and your heart’s lofty goals placed a dollop of toothpaste twice as big as you normally would. Had to have perfect breath, just in case. Not even just in case, you were going to lay beside him - mere inches away - for the next several hours. In those seconds of pondering, gravity began to spill your toothpaste off the bristles and towards the pristine marble vanity. With haste, you jammed the toothbrush into your mouth, causing you to gag on your device.

Levi felt his erection press against his waistband and rolled his eyes at his own stupid urges. You assumed that eye roll was for you and offered an innocent grin. Not so innocent, however, was your curiosity. His t-shirt was tight, leaving little to the imagination. One arm’s reach from an array of muscles, you kept your eyes deliberately on the mirror ahead. However, your doppelganger had a mind of her own apparently, gaze falling from eye contact and onto his chest, waist, abdomen. Without even having to turn his head, Levi could see your staring, obviously more obvious than you thought it would be. With your attention on his lower half, Levi allowed himself a smirk.

Such a silly thing, but was this the first time you brushed your teeth next to someone? This handful of minutes was inexplicably romantic, oddly domestic. Pajamas, double sinks, and the end of a long day. You had been coworkers, acquaintances, and unknowingly requited lovers, but for this one moment, you were husband and wife.

White toothpaste lined the gap between his top and bottom lip, and for some reason, you felt your knees buckle. Levi ducked down to spit, a polite attempt to hide it. Your eyes rejected his offer, instead widening as your pupils honed in on the sight. Leaning forward ever so slightly, you savored yet loathed the way his rejection ran down the pipe. What a waste.

Levi sheathed his toothbrush back in its protective case, a neat freak through and through, and slid it back into his tote. Sifting through, he stumbled upon a mini bottle of mouthwash, making him freeze with indecision: added freshness at the cost of spitting in front of you again? He felt that once had already been rude enough. Levi shot you a side-eye and made an unexpected eye contact: he was trying to read you, you were already staring. Mutually miscommunicated guilt, both of you felt you had been caught and snapped back to aversion.

It came your turn to rinse your mouth, and he couldn’t help it. Levi could have blamed his peripheral vision, could have blamed the bright lights that lined the mirror, but hard-pressed, he could not come up with an excuse for why he watched you then. The streak of white that shot out of your mouth, its wake dribbling down your lips. Goddammit, you cursed your clumsiness and hastily wiped your mess with a washcloth. He knew it as well as you did: he should have been grossed out. Only Levi realized, though, how much he liked it, he was just too ashamed to admit it.

Though his arousal screamed, his lips stayed silent. There was a time and place.

Was there? You’ve worked together for how long? All those years, they never had a time or place?

A long inhale, a slow exhale, his fingers curled underneath the cold countertop, hoping its chill would thwart the flush of his chest. Fuck how badly he wanted to kiss you then, to thumb that white stain off your chin and into his mouth, to clutch the backs of your thighs and hoist you onto that vanity. Your waist in his hands, your sex in line with his -

“Levi?”

“Yeah?”

His rapid response, you mistook it as anger. While the voice on his shoulder was lust, yours was insecurity. Surely, you’re the last straw. Having to share a bed with a dork like you? He’s had a tough day. Don’t make him endure this.

“Do you want me to take the floor?”

A dumbbell dropped to the pit of his stomach. Of course not, but for you to bring it up, he must have been hasty to assume that you would share the bed. Levi grit his teeth, annoyed with his lofty goals. Two slow blinks, “I can.”

That was the last thing you wanted. “N-No… I don’t - I don’t mean…” Your lips parted in stammer. Eyes darted as if the tile walls would whisper you the answer. For a moment, you cursed the beautiful neutrality of his face: impossible not to love, but impossible to read. His stillness was contagious, though, and brought you to settle on an answer, “I’ll meet you under the sheets.”

Ears burned red as they checked: was that selective hearing or was that what you really said? Before his eyes could study you, you turned on your heel and closed the door shut.

Once again, on opposite sides of the door, your sentiment was shared: Phew.

He took a few minutes after that. When he finally walked out, he found that you had been lotioning your legs over that time. Dim glow of the bedside lamp reflected on your smooth skin. If not for the way he had come to know you, to respect and appreciate you, this sight could have been the cover of some sketchy magazine. Eagerness glazed your eyes. Your hands had been massaging your inner thighs, now a perfect shield for the gem between your legs. Levi gave the slightest shake of his head, not disapproval, but disbelief. How did you manage such effortless perfection?

Was that not everything about you, though? The most minute smile in meetings. Biting your lip when you were bored. A laugh so beautiful that it served as its own positive reinforcement, beckoning others to amuse you again. Were you the one?

Or was it the eyes of your beholder? Maybe you weren’t perfect, maybe that’s why you were in his eyes. Despite all the signs of your singlehood - never in a rush to get home, never a mention of a date - he never truly believed it. It was a war of his flawless intuition and steep infatuation. Either you were the one for him, or he had been wrong all these years.

Get in the bed, idiot.

His stride was steady, captivating, as he made his way to the side of the bed. In habit, Levi crossed his arms across his torso, prepared to lift up, but caught himself halfway. No, he would not be sleeping shirtless tonight. Neither would he sleep in his loose and breathable boxer shorts, but instead, stifling fleece. Already, for one reason or another, he was sweating. Upon approach, the layers upon layers of sheets, blanket, and comforter looked even more suffocating. He caught a glimpse of the thermostat, but then of you, and found your skin laden with goosebumps. Lips rolled beneath his teeth, bargaining, but he could not bring himself to turn the AC up while your body temperature was down. Just as strongly, he refused to do anything that might make you uncomfortable, like taking off his clothes, no matter how badly he wanted to. More words would have served you both well, tearing down the artificial barrier your doubts were constructing.

Can I take this off?

I would love nothing more.

But you were both stupid to imagine that dialogue.

Levi slowly reclined back, sighing as he sunk into the sheets. Already, his skin was burning. He combed his fingers back through his bangs and released a heavy sigh. A heavenly trial, you read it as a hellish endurance, and instinctually apologized, “...I’m sorry about this.”

You have nothing to be sorry for, Levi pondered the response, but deemed it too much. Instead, he feigned a disinterested mumble, “It’s Erwin’s fault.”

You, on the other hand, indulged your gut feeling, “He’s done worse.”

Levi huffed a single exhale, his version of a chuckle.

You turned on your side. He loved that you chose to face him rather than the wall. He hated that he even thought of that. You were so close, he could feel the mattress dip between you, could feel your breath cool against his skin. Eyes fluttering shut, your voice was either sultry or exhausted, a glass-half-full kind of thing. “Good night, Levi.”

Fuck, what a fight, battling the urge to kiss you then and there. Your eyes sparkling, noses nearly touching, he had sworn that this was how all the shitty romcoms went, but he failed to find anything lackluster about this scene. His lips yearned to close that distance, arms ached to perch themselves at your sides. Levi redirected that energy to his hands, fisting the comforter hard as he draped it gently over your shoulders, “Night, (Y/N).”

But how were you going to sleep like this? Although you were running off a 20-hour day, you felt that sleep would be a waste. Queueing for tickets to see your favorite artist, only to close the window the moment your turn came. Styling your hair just to go and get it cut straight after. Champagne dumped down the drain. Mentally, it was an unbearable thought. Physically, your body was even more resistant to the idea. Your middle was fucking throbbing. Nipples stood tall against their skimpy silk covering as if reaching for more contact, his contact. Legs squirmed against one another, trying to smother the burn between them, but you willed them frozen: don’t wake him up.

In your best state of mind, you would have recalled the symptoms of his insomnia: always a tall thermos of caffeine on his desk, perpetual circles under his eyes, especially the times you both worked late. On your way out, you would peek through the pane of glass on his door to wave good-bye. Now and then, he would be hunched over his desk, imprints of the keyboard on his cheek - a makeshift pillow for his crash naps. With a shred of thought, you would have realized he was likely already awake, but you were incapable of even that. It was midnight when you crawled into the king bed. Red digits at your side now read 1:40 AM, yet you knew that not one of those one-hundred minutes had been spent in sleep. Coffee in the morning, nerves on the plane, hormones now, you had left composure back at your apartment and you weren’t sure you’d get it back at any point of this business trip. I mean shit, you swore, this was only the first night.

Only the first night. One of many sure to come, right? How many nights had he gone to bed alone, kept awake with longing of having you by his side? How many mornings had he woken himself up with a sleepy mumble of your name, only to find one half of his bed empty? It couldn’t all be for nothing. Now that he was sharing the bed with you, it was all he ever wanted, yet you were still out of reach. Uncharacteristic, the most reliable man you knew was spiraling in thought.

But to you, it would make sense: the only one who could bring Levi Ackerman down was none other than himself. He saw it a different way: you were the only one who could dismantle him like this.

You could feel his heat emanating, could see his sweat reflecting. Before you could stop yourself, your affection had boiled over, “Levi…” your voice was hoarse, having gone hours without as much as a whisper, and unexpectedly loud. His silver gaze drifted to you, depleting the last of your reserves, you mused, “...you’re hot.”

A statement, not a question. In near pitch blackness, he allowed himself a rare smirk. Levi waited until it faded to turn towards you.

You pinched the hem of his shirt in your fingertips, nails accidentally scraped his abdomen on the way. “Want this off?” You tugged lightly, “I don’t mind.”

At the same time, you shivered, and Levi filled in the blanks to ground his wandering mind. “Cold?” His hands brushed yours on the way to the bottom of the garment. Levi bunched fists in his fabric and lifted it effortlessly up, over, off his head - as he wanted to do all those hours ago. Pent-up relief, he thrust his shirt to you and offered, “Could’ve just asked.”

You were right all along. All along, those loose button-up shirts had covered a chiseled body. He must have been curling with arms like that. A pull-up bar on the back of his bedroom door, how many repetitions did it take to get these muscles? Your eyes scanned every inch of him but could find not one flaw. Your lips were moving, but words failed to emerge. There were a million things you wanted to say to him, to tell him, but only one came through. You received his gift gingerly and muttered, “Thanks.”

This was a moment you had distantly fantasized over for years. Turns out, this was even better than you dreamed. His shirt carried a garden of mint, lavender, and tea leaves in its scent. In putting it on, you felt that you gained a glimpse into Eden. The fabric was satin soft and sheer thin. In watching you wear it, Levi felt in the presence of an angel. It highlighted the curves he loved and introduced him to ones he had never noticed before. Brows narrowed, pupils dilated in his gaze - concerned and deviant. The straight cut forced your waist and hips to confine. The small-pattern chest was clearly never meant to accommodate a body like yours. Threads were spread taut by your cleavage, nearly torn apart as they strained to cover you. In his eyes, he thought it fit you perfectly.

Arms finally through the sleeves. Beneath them, your hairs stood on end. Again, you shivered, but could not pinpoint why. It did not take the shiver, though, to convey your state. Your erect points stood above all. Levi looked to you with both pity and admiration, his voice their lovechild: “Look at you.”

You simmered, embarrassed yet teasing, “Looking isn't helping.” You crossed your arms before your chest and bundled yourself together, “If you really care -”

He did.

“- then do something about it.”

Unfolding the quilt from the foot of the bed, turning up the room’s temperature - those were the most straightforward solutions. But Levi was not thinking straight, and he had a feeling that was what you wanted. Slowly, Levi sifted his arm behind your shoulders, when you snuggled in, he sealed his wrap with a hand at your side.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze descended to meet yours. Likewise, you raised your gaze to meet. Painfully aware that this was a first for the both of you - neither his passion nor your arousal would shut up about it. At the same time, watching you shiver reminded him of all the times he had silently substituted your needs. Behind on work, you never asked for assistance, but would hurriedly throw things his way if Levi offered his help. When your car wouldn’t start that one winter day, who knows how long you would’ve paced in the parking lot had he not pulled his sedan beside yours and given you a jump? A sharp pang seized his heart in realization: he thought you were close, and now you were physically there, yet you still were not comfortable enough to ask him for anything - even though you both wanted it.

“Y’know,” his thumb rubbed your shoulder, “you should learn to just ask for what you want.”

Indeed, 2 AM haze was shrouding his awareness, too - particularly his self-awareness. Was it not him who steeped your tea in the mornings and tidied your desk before he left each night? He could have - should have - just asked you out all those times. How much sooner would this night have come if he had? Levi swore to live without regrets, but that did not stop him from acknowledging the opportunities he had missed thus far. He tossed you the takeaway he wished he had learned long ago: “Makes things a lot easier.”

At first, you thought he was chastising you. The stern monotone of his voice could chill you to the bone at times, but when you took in his expression, you felt warm all over. His brows were not knit, but perched in a tender lift. His breaths were not terse, like when he got annoyed, but slow and calm. At the same time, though, you could feel his heart pounding hard, could hear it when you placed your ear over his chest. Clouded moonlight softened those hardlined features, and again, you wondered if this was your first night together or actually your honeymoon: wasn’t this kind of pillow talk reserved for spouses alone?

A deep swallow, and the last time you checked yourself. Could he have looked any more genuine? Any more readable? Transparent? You didn’t think so. For the man of few words, this was all but an admission of his feelings for you, and it was the best look you had ever seen on him. His advice, his command, invited you to try that outfit on.

“Practice with me?”

One slight nod, so slight - you knew no one would have noticed it but you. In that, you felt your confidence soar, pulling the words from your heart to the air between you both, “Hold me tighter?”

He did.

“Pull me closer?”

He did.

“And kiss me already.”

Levi could not describe it, the feeling that overcame him when he heard your demand. Proud of you. Relieved. At peace yet exhilarated. The serenity that all was right in the world, yet the anticipation of what he had wanted all along. The nature of the kiss aligned with the latter. For two agonizing seconds, he examined you. Assured by the sight of your smile, he longed to taste it for himself. Thumb pressed to the curve of your chin, index finger perched under it, slowly yet with unwavering passion - that was the way Levi brought your lips together.

Soft, as he expected. Expert, as you had. Initial contact was delicate, the warmup slow. Levi always went so hard at everything he did, held such a sharp tongue, which was why the way he brushed against you made your heart stop. You knew strength to be his greatest, most innate feature, and therefore you deciphered that this tenderness was a display of exertion. Levi showed no signs of struggle, though. Touch-starved for you, yet his lips chose to waltz rather than tango. His hand on your chin drifted to the back of your neck. Nape cupped in his palm, he used that leverage to drift you here and there, allowing him to taste all of you - encouraging you to do the same with him.

Levi tasted like peppermint, the brand so sharp that it made you sneeze now and then, he had learned after enough lunch breaks. You tasted like cinnamon, the stick that baristas stuck in his chai come the colder months. When your tongues met, they created a new taste. After minutes of exchange, they became addicted to it. Their craving demanded all efforts in that search: Levi’s grip pulled you closer, you threw an arm over his back. Breaths turned to gasps, a wordless understanding of all you would do for the other: grab his mail on the way in, walk you to your car at night, and kiss until you were out of breath.

The thought had never crossed your mind, but his actions disintegrated it - the possibility that this was some selfish, opportunistic spell. Levi was nearly shaking with anticipation, his erection pained with neglect, but that did not influence his pace. Each time you thought the makeout might end, he would catch his breath with “pretty girl…” before joining you once again. His kiss was lovely, as was the spark at your middle, but his ardor was gas to your flame, and before you knew it, you were ablaze. You found your body rise against his, pushing off the mattress, and rolling to grind against the friction of his rigid figure. Levi was everything you ever wanted, and maybe you were just that desperate or just that greedy - the fact that you needed more. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

You thought twice before breaking from the kiss, one last deep plunge of your tongue to his throat before pulling away, conscious to savor the taste. “Levi…” you sighed.

A string of saliva hung between you, the clean freak calmly closed his fist over it, and you felt yourself shudder again, “can we keep practicing?”

His lips were one degree north of flat, about as big of a smile as anyone would see on Ackerman. Tonight, just the two of you here, it felt inexplicably, particularly special. “Make love to me.”

An advanced learner, you always went the extra mile. Back then, Levi had no doubt, it was the reason you had been promoted so quickly. Now, it was that you had aced the first lesson and jumped to the next: no longer asking, demanding already. Sentimental was not a feeling he knew, but proof that you were this comfortable with him was indeed something.

His praise reflected that feeling back onto you, “That’s right, good girl.” The back of his hand brushed unruly strands from your face. A kiss on your forehead rewarded, “like that.”

Once more, he pressed his lips to yours, but it was not even a second that he stayed - just a starting point to the journey that was exploring your body. Lips slid to the corner of your mouth, down your jawline, neck, then chest. A trail of hickeys and teeth grazes was left - tomorrow’s meetings and your professionalism having vanished from his mind. His hands joined the excursion: one gentle yet relishing in its caress of your neck, the other crawled up your - his - shirt. The familiar texture of his old garment contrasted with the novel feel of your skin. Muscles twitched with satisfaction, disrupting the fluidity of his motions, but you found beauty in the unpredictability of his touch. Rose-colored lenses were blind to the signs of his weakness, instead chalking those movements up to Levi’s expertise. As you tipped your head back and sighed, Levi figured it was the first misunderstanding that had done you two any good tonight.

On his descent, he could not help but take a stop at your breasts. Turns out, it was never just his imagination, but given your curvature, of course your buttons would have been stretched to contain you. Those blouses had been his guilty favorite for that very reason, but his tight t-shirt was taking a close second. No, that slip you wore when you joined him in the bathroom, that must’ve been the best, right? Blood rushed, pupils dilated, his body anxious for a visual refresher.

You were going faster than he could have hoped. Already, he was proud of you for having graduated to demands. Now, you had learned to act on your own - either having read his mind or listening to your own desires. Levi could not decide which possibility he preferred, but when you lifted your top and perched it at your clavicle, he was ashamed to admit that his mind had discarded all other affairs.

Levi nestled his cheek in your cleavage, and though you were over a thousand miles away, he felt he was at home. Warm pillows cupped him, and both of you felt that the space was made for him to fill. Levi’s breath was hot on your skin, yet your nipples appeared as though you were in a winter wilderness. Of course, he took notice in all your details, and sighed in mutual enamor, “Fuck, baby…”

It was a tone you had never heard in his voice before. Desperation and desire in a man so ever assured and disinterested, you felt your panties drip from damped to soaked. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You, too, was what you thought to say, but somehow, the word seemed inadequate. His body was artwork: a symmetric abdomen, muscular forearms, veins that stood against his skin, you longed to trace him as such. Bangs that fell perfectly imperfectly over his face, begging that you run your fingers through them: mess with them now, gel them straight in the morning. You could slice paper on that jawline, could get lost in his eyes. No matter how long you stared, and stared you had, Levi was like the sunset: even after a hard day, always breathtakingly gorgeous.

Especially with the perspective you had now. One hand cupped your waist, the other your breast, perching you into his mouth, eye contact deliberately maintained throughout his movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Levi’s tongue swirled your nipple before his lips audibly slurped. “To get what you want…”

Again, the fog of the nameless hours between night and day had blinded him to the relevance his words had to himself. How long had he wanted this? How good did it feel? He had no verbal answer for it, only the fervor of his actions: sprightly tongue and rocks of his hips. As you always had, you filled his gaps: while he could not fathom the words, yours overflowed.

“Oh, Levi… Fuck, Levi…!” your desperate cries of his name made him leak onto the hotel sheets, no longer pristine. Your harsh exhales ran currents through his hair, and suddenly, it seemed you two had traded temperatures. Now, he was the one shivering while you sweat through the shirt. For his fever, he craved one antidote. Crawling down your body, his approach to the medicine cabinet. He prepared to ask for his dosage.

“My turn.”

Huh?

You propped yourself up on your elbows and took a good look. A good look: Levi had wedged himself between your legs. Fingers caressed your thighs with a precise pressure, a touch that tickled in a way that made you want more, yet was strong enough that he could push your hips to the mattress and pry your legs apart. You had to bunch your fists and rub your eyes to check, maybe 3 AM was just fucking with you.

Levi read your search for reassurance and inserted conviction into his tone. His stare and voice unwavering, “Can I taste you?”

Yeah, 3 AM was definitely fucking with you, for this was too good to be true. His sharp chin dwindled above the soft of your sex. His gaze set on your soul. Both of you agreed: his hands had never felt so calloused until they met your smooth thighs. It was a dream you would have woken up thankful to have had bestowed on you, but the grip he had on you was so perpetually undeniable: this was real. Head spinning, mind raced to catch up, yet Levi’s wait was so astonishingly still. Levi knew he would make you feel good. Based on your state, it seemed he was already doing that. Now, you just had to say yes, but he would not push you towards any one answer, nor would he do anything more until you arrived at it. If you wanted it, you had to ask for it, sweetheart.

A flood of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one screaming over the other, you felt you were drowning. In your search for stability, you relied on your sense of sight: Levi Ackerman between your legs. What the fuck are you waiting for?

“Y’Yes, Levi.” You reached down and held his forehead. As you brushed his bangs from his face, he offered another half-smile, but it was brief, for he was past the point of eager. Still, the calm in his pace remained. Slowly, his hands snaked from the backs of your thighs to the sides of your hips. Thumbs hooked between the straps of your panties and your skin. His fingers clenched over them, bringing the garment past your knees, down your shins, and off your ankles. From chest to toes, you were now entirely exposed. At first, you wrangled with embarrassment, but his infatuation was your comfort. Hunger seized his vision, thirst drove his actions. You had nothing to be afraid of.

His earlier route, lips to neck, neck to chest, chest to torso, was now mirrored. Levi cupped your heels in his hand and lifted your feet, allowing him to plant kisses up and up your legs, drags of his tongue followed to connect the dots. Minutes gone by, and even after having pocketed your consent, he still had yet to put his mouth there. Spending time to appreciate your thighs, he wanted you to know how long he had been anticipating this, and now that he had finally landed his spot, he would be damn sure to save the best bite for last.

Left arm wrapped around your thigh, Levi nestled his head against it, allowing his perspective to stay sound on your sex. His right hand trailed from your knee to your middle, and at last, you knew he was getting started. At first, it was his fingertips, and at that mere first touch came your sudden awakening as to how dire your desire had grown. Your hands flew back and clutched your pillow, Levi admired the tendons that rose in your wrist, and your voice, “A’Ahh!!”

He shot one glance up to check on you, but the look on your face ensured you were more than okay. With that, he decided to repeat the pattern of his rubs. Index and middle finger paired as they rode the sliver between your lips, your arousal slickened his knuckles. Once wet enough, he would split his digits into a V, each one taking responsibility for one of your folds. When that friction ran dry, he would return to your core, a seemingly never-ending source of lubrication, to run the process back again. You should not have been surprised, for everything with him was purposed - in the office or in the bedroom. With your interior and exterior in a coat of your own clear, he would have the freedom to run his mouth, no need to lick his lips or garner more saliva. Years of anticipation, now that the moment had arrived, he was going to spend the extra seconds to make sure this went according to plan.

Your glisten was so thorough, looking at you, Levi swore he could see his own weak reflection, the blush on his cheeks, the sweat on his forehead. In that way, his plunge was accelerated: preferring to trade the sight of his unruly state for the taste of you. Lips circled to match your curves, and you quickly identified this as a familiar feeling in an unfamiliar place. Levi was kissing you with the same tenderness he had displayed in your makeout, only now, he was between your legs. His jaw stretched wide to ensure he could reach every inch, from the top of your cleft, along your crescent sides, and to the spot where they rejoined. With his mouth in control, he let his hands indulge in your body, adorned upon your delectable waist, light squeezes of your ass, and massaging the divots of your inner thighs. His lips practiced that motion with a goal of perfection. Meanwhile, his tongue distracted you from any signs of his learning. Slow, purposed drags from bottom to top made your love pool on the tip of his tongue - each accumulation swallowed with a satisfied groan. Levi’s oral was pristine, only an occasional slurp and smack, allowing both of your vocals to take the stage. Your sky-high gasps, his low and satiated moans. He lived for the moments you would syllabize his name “Le-vi…” His “there you go” always followed, implicitly begging for more.

His neck began to bob in support of his movements. With that came a whole new level of pressure and slate of angles. His sharp nose slanted against your curves, lovely opposite to your soft. Your scent and your taste moved mountains within him, and in that, he noticed: his emotional pull was just as strong as his physical. All his life, he had grown to love bitter tastes, perhaps because they had been force fed to him. You were the first cube of sugar to have landed in his drink. Now, he had honey straight from the source. Levi felt his erection press hard against the mattress, “Fuck…” he whined, “you taste so good.”

Breath caught in your throat, all you could manage was a light sigh. As your lips twitched, he generously helped, taking the words right out of your mouth. “You have no idea…no idea -” Levi moaned, “how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this.”

At those words alone, you felt you might climax right then. Had he been eavesdropping on your dreams? How did he know that you had been fantasizing over that exact sentence for an unspeakable amount of time? “Me - Me too, Levi…”

Your admission was even sweeter, lifting his feelings from indulgence to fulfillment. All the nights he had spent awake, wondering if you were thinking of him the way he was of you, your confession was confirmation that this had been requited all that time. Levi found it both gratifying and maddening: gratifying to have discovered that your feelings were mutual, maddening how many years had gone by until that discovery. Levi grew determined to make up for all that time, revenge reflected in the acceleration of his actions.

Levi shoved his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you into a shameless, unhideable angle. Good thing, he mused, no more hiding. Shoulders propped at your midthigh, keeping you perched apart. Fingers wrapped around your skin, he pulled you down the bed and crashed you onto his face. Your gasp was exhausted as you tried to keep up. Both of you knew, though: you were no match. As his tongue thrust to unfathomable depths, you likewise could not conjure any idea of how to withstand this. Nose rubbed against your swollen bud, brows narrowed in determination, he looked nearly angry. Working hard for your climax, harder than he had for anything else, even his own.

Shit…!

If this keeps up…

A telltale tide turned in your tummy, spasms sparkled along your legs. Fingernails pierced the pillowcase, fighting off your impending loss of control. You could not delay it, not unless he - You fisted your hand in his hair, and he thought this was it. Instead, you pushed him away. “L’Le-vi…” a series of rapid pants, “hah, hah, ho’ld… on!”

His tongue flattened still. Between the vertex of your legs, his steel attention rose to you. Not anxious, but concerned, You alright?

“I, I want -”

At those words, he once again simmered with pride, thankful you had taken his ask for what you want to heart. After a few more breaths, you managed the minimum composure to plead, “I wanna cum with you.”

Levi’s first thought was one of generosity, you know you can have - I can give you - more than one, right? But he knew you better, and he knew what you meant. You wanted your first to be with him, and though he was parched with thirst, desperate for the taste of your cum in his mouth, your wants were foremost his. With a deep, patient breath, he watched your twitches slow to still. When the threat of your orgasm vanished, he calmly laid one final kiss to your core, etching your taste into his memory. His silver stare swallowed you down, a mental polaroid of your pose. His palm massaged your sex in physical praise, promising that he would never make you wait again, and that he’d definitely make you cum next time.

He started to ascend back up your body, but you flung yourself forward and met him halfway. Brows arched in shock, his eyes widened briefly, you closed them with another kiss. Mint flavor of before had been washed away by the taste of you. Further evidence of his devotion, you desired to prove that you were just as committed to him. You hooked your elbow to his nape and threaded fingers through his undercut - your turn to pull him here and there, granting yourself the freedom to explore the parts of him that you had always wanted to. Most of all, the length growing harder and harder to ignore.

Still, you were conscious to withhold your rush. You endeavored to slow your pace so that you could match the one he had performed on you. How good it felt - he deserved to feel it, too. You ran your hands down his chest the way rain slid down a windshield. Levi felt his boxers turn wet when your palms pressed upon his pecs, the buds of your hands kneading his tender patches. His exhales turned crackly, his inhales uneven. Laying kisses on each of his abs, down and down his torso, your contact held the compliments you were too shy to say. He heard them and reciprocated them: arm wrapped around your waist, bruises where his fingertips pressed - he hoped they would stay till morning, and that when you saw them, you would remember the love he had shown you tonight

Finally, you dipped your fingertips below his waistband. Sweat glazed his hips, allowing you to slide your hands in, but at this point, there was not much room for you. His erection had taken all his threads had to offer. You spared him the begging, sliding his cotton down his outstretched legs and finally releasing him from their confinement. Soaked in his own anticipation, veins visible, his arc steep. The shade of his member matched the one of his cheeks: the pink of a vulnerable blush, the crimson of ardent lust. As he watched you watch him, another dribble of clear dripped down his length. Levi grit his teeth and cursed. From stifling heat to cool air, that drench turned from comforting to exhilarating. In the wake of his tried swears, you gently cupped your hand around his girth and cleaned him as best as you could, spreading the leakage of his tip down to his base - his shaft your path. Contrast to his stress, you soothed him as you always had, just a different context this time.

It was his turn to cling to the sheets. Hands clawed into the comforter, you watched without shame, enchanted by the way his forearms flexed. Heels ground to the mattress, toes curled in sheets. Each motion was accompanied by either a sharp inhale or short exhale. Was it sadistic or considerate of you to keep pumping him despite that?

Levi loathed the way he stuttered through your name, on the other hand, you adored it. Levi cupped the back of your head in his hand and tugged your ear to his lips. His breath was hot on your cusp, yet somehow, it sent chills through you. Your sex had landed atop his lap, his cock nestled between your folds, still wet from his prior excursion. Pleasure had him growling, the look in his eyes both commanding and desperate, “Let me take you.”

Obliging and insisting: as one, you leaned back and he pressed forward. Your head landed atop the plump pillow, his hand beside it. Before you could blink, he had plummeted onto your lips again. This kiss was so opposite of all prior: his tongue demanding entrance, grazes of his teeth, and bites of your lip, loud and messy. You had cut Levi Ackerman to his last thread of composure, that was where you had always wanted him.

And this was how he had always wanted you: your most unabashed, honest, purest and filthiest self. He always found it so painfully obvious, how much you strained to stay prim and proper, polite and professional at work. It was why he lived for the times you slipped up: an eye roll in meetings, the long sigh after a conference call. Levi knew that the real you was there, and now you were here: in this shared bed with his shadow cast over your skin.

There was just one thing, though, that differed from his expectations. Desire was painted on each of your features, but they were glossed in nerves. Twitches in your lip, rattle in your lungs, eyes glistening, he feared they were tears. You cinched your hand around his wrist, and he recognized that smile. It was the kind you donned when you spilled your coffee or showed up late. Adorable, but unassured, and that would not do in this context.

“You’re nervous.” Levi did not ask you, for he knew his intuition was accurate. “Wanna stop?”

You shook your head and insisted vehemently, “No.” With a tilt of your chin and arch of your back, your lips brushed his with each word you spoke. Seeped down his throat, understanding swallowed: “I want to start.”

Levi returned your characteristic smile with one of his own. Tipping your foreheads together, “You’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

An order or a question? Either way, your heart scoffed at the idea. You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? There was no chance in hell you would change your mind.

“Or if it gets too much.”

That, there was a chance of. It had taken him mere minutes between your legs to bring you to the point of screaming and to the brink of climax, but that was what you wanted. His consideration fed you calm, you fed him reassurance. The flicker in your gaze settled, meeting his of solid steel. You tucked his bangs behind his ear and affirmed, “I’m ready, Levi.”

Fronts pressed, heartbeats matching, there was only one connection left to make. By the grips of his hands on the backs of your shoulders, Levi pulled himself those last crucial inches, and closed that final gap. His tip slick with precum, your slit dripping with anticipation, yet accommodating him was no easy fit. He had spent all that time down there with the goal of making it easy on you, but watching your face scrunch and hearing your voice whine was not half bad, either.

In fact, he had not even made it halfway in yet, and you were already writhing. Levi bit the inside of his cheek and knit his brows, careful not to push you too hard, conscious for signs of your apprehension. You sensed his wavering and clawed his back, pulling yourself further down his length.

Looking up, his expression was strained. Reaching new depths, pushing past your initial walls, his voice poured exertion. Still, he did not stop pushing. Toes arched into the mattress, calves flexed with each labored drive. Each fuck brought the two of you closer. For him, one more inch of his length. For you, one more stretch of pleasure. For the couple, a proximity you had always wanted. Each of you felt a tremendous responsibility to be the one to close that distance.

Repetition after repetition, his muted grunts melted to audible groans. The air between you was no longer saturated by your gasps alone, but his as well. His strain was the only thing that could ground you from nirvana and back down to earth. Despite his squint, he caught that transition: from the throes of sensation to the snap back to reality, all because you were concerned for his well-being. More than any sense of pleasure, your affection was what made his heart pound in his chest. Doe eyes gazed upon him, You okay?

After a series of hahs and ahs, Levi managed just a couple words, “It feels - It feels…”

Good? Bad? Your heart tensed in anticipation. Pleading and ordering, “Tell me, Levi.”

Knuckles tight, fingers trembling, “...good!” Levi clenched his teeth and pulled himself forward with an aim of backing his words with his actions. After struggling to past your entrance, the force of this fuck brought his tip to your end, drawing shrieks from you and shock from him. Strength of his magnitude had pros and cons, he supposed. His flaws, you deemed them his perfections.

The damp of your cunt was audible, resounding throughout the room. You found yourself at an impossible choice: which was more embarrassing, your voice or your sex? Levi’s thought was similar and opposite, the same choices, just which was better? Levi decided that their symphony was best, and realized he could turn up its volume if he accelerated his pace.

“Levi, Levi…!” To say his name came naturally, practically a swear word: the satisfaction of cursing after injury or mistake, so wrong yet so right to scream it out loud.

Pleasurable pain when he hit your weakest points, a delightful exercise as your walls stretched to accommodate him. His eyes remained set on your face, ears tuned to your voice, translating your body language into instructions. Rapid thrusts to make you pant, but only until you started to choke on your own gasps. Then, he would decelerate, replacing speed with strength. When he filled you up, you would sigh and roll your eyes back. To Levi, that was the sign to dial it back up and get you there.

Since this started, his read on you had been perfectly accurate. You were almost there. Simultaneously yet unknowingly, your inner voices warned: you won’t last much longer. The thing was, you didn’t want to, for you had endured so much already. The heat in your middle was unbearable now. Each nerve had been fried to its last end. This sex had gone on for hours, but your yearning had been years long. In your haze, you were blind towards any reason to deny yourself any longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and relied on your calves to pull him closer. Bringing him to your end made Levi approach his. “Fuck…!” His voice was a low singsong, an adult lullaby. “(Y/N), (Y/N)...!” No longer a choice between deep or fast, Levi somehow managed both. Physiology threatened to overrule now. No, already…!

“(Y/N), I…I’m - ! ” His mind was racing now. Should he ask to cum or tell you he was? Should he withdraw so that you could get there first? Levi labored to open his eyes, looking to you for an answer. His senses of sight and touch told him: you were already there.

The pulsation around his cock, the steep arch of your spine, your parted lips and blissed-out face. The scrape of your nails down his back, ignorant to the possibility of hurting him. This was how Levi had always wanted it: to be the one you clung to, to offer himself when you were overwhelmed. Count on me. The orgasm that overwhelmed you now, that had been his doing, right?

Once again, it was as if you had read his mind. Without him having to ask, you answered: “Levi, Levi!!” Your hands squeezed him tight, white patches beneath your fingertips. Clinging to him, the life raft through each of your waves. “Y’Yours… I’m yours…”

He had gifted you tissues for your crying spells at work, had picked up your lunch on the way back from break, but this provision was far preferable, much more fulfilling. Even as you turned his skin red, even as your legs clenched him and squeezed air from his lungs - no, even better - those were precisely the motions that pushed him over the edge.

One hand clutched the top of the headboard, tight enough that you heard the wood wince. The other caressed your face with feathered tenderness. In that difference, you were once again reminded of his duality: on one hand, a hardass, but for you, a soft spot. Those dimensions were reflected in his voice, too: swears that made your ears burn and groans that turned the air heavy, yet arid gasps that lifted your soul and praise fit for a princess. While your cunt had run raw and slippery from his fucking, his warm cum filled you and soothed your stings.

As you both came to, Levi lingered inside, patiently waiting until each of your waves crashed - savoring them. With a deep swallow and a delicate nod, he ensured he would handle your aftercare. Kleenex from the nightstand folded and padded against your sex. You sat up in panic, worried about the clean freak’s reaction, but he seemed particularly satisfied. Maybe it wasn’t that he hated filth, but that he loved clean-up. You bit your lip and bit back a smile, believing that the sex tonight had evidenced that.

Though his aftercare was doing much for your affection, it did pathetically little when it came to cleanliness. Both of you realized, not even the entire box would be enough. Levi looked at the wad of tissues in his hand, shook his head, and scowled, nearly laughing at the ineffectiveness. “We’re filthy.”

Slowly, you made your way to his side. Carefully, you reached your arms around his back. Wrapped within your grasp, you leaned him back against your chest and whispered into his ear, “Good thing there’s a shower.”

Levi spun just enough to meet your eye contact, once again checking to see if he had heard you right. Three hours ago, he would have defaulted towards the no, always having believed one could not be let down if they did not get their hopes up. Over the years and especially tonight, your optimism was swaying that opinion. Your sound smile and unafraid stare confirmed: after all that mess, you were also keen for cleanliness. In post-coital clarity, he saw how stupid he had been to wait this long, and Levi almost said those three sacred words right then and there.

But this was only the first night of the trip.

And the first day of the rest of your lives.

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #snk x you #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #oneshot #2023 #smut #salt and pepper

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coolancientstuff · 5 months

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The Temple of Venus in Baalbek (Heliopolis), Lebanon was built in the 200s CE to honor the goddess of love, sex and fertility. Venus was derived by the Romans from the Greek goddess Aphrodite, who herself was inspired by the Near Eastern goddess Astarte. This temple's cult likely incorporated elements of both Roman Venus and the local Astarte.

The temple itself has many novel and unique features found nowhere else in Classical architecture. Five semicircular exedrae run along the outer wall, framing arched niches decorated with carved doves and seashells that probably contained statues in ancient times. Above each niche a festoon of leaves and fruit hangs, symbolizing fertility. The pentagonal column bases are without parallel in antiquity, and no other examples are known. The interior is less well preserved, but it can be safely assumed by the lavishness of the construction that it was once sumptuously decorated with paintings, statues, colored marbles and golden ornaments.

The temple has an eventful history, being also a site of persecutions of early Christians under Julian the Apostate, the last pagan emperor of Rome. Sozomen, a late antique historian, says in his Ecclesiatical Histories:

The inhabitants of Heliopolis, near Mount Libanus, and of Arethusa in Syria, seem to have surpassed them in excess of cruelty. The former were guilty of an act of barbarity which could scarcely be credited, had it not been corroborated by the testimony of those who witnessed it. They stripped the holy virgins, who had never been looked upon by the multitude, of their garments, and exposed them in a state of nudity as a public spectacle and objects of insult. After numerous other inflictions they at last shaved them, ripped them open, and concealed in their viscera the food usually given to pigs; and since the swine could not distinguish, but were impelled by the need of their customary food, they also tore in pieces the human flesh.

I am convinced that the citizens of Heliopolis perpetrated this barbarity against the holy virgins on account of the prohibition of the ancient custom of yielding up virgins to prostitution with any chance comer before being united in marriage to their betrothed. This custom was prohibited by a law enacted by Constantine, after he had destroyed the temple of Venus at Heliopolis, and erected a church upon its ruins."

Whether Sozomen's account is an exaggeration or not, there is archaeological evidence that the temple was indeed converted into a church, dedicated to Saint Barbara. According to the (comparatively late) Christian legend, Barbara was the daughter of a Heliopolitan dignitary, Dioscorus, who still worshipped the old gods. When he learned that she had been baptized, he killed Barbara and was immediately struck by lightning. Up til the present day, Saint Barbara is invoked if people want to be protected against lightning.

Because the monument continued to be in use, the temple of Venus is comparatively well-preserved. Unbroken religious activity has continued on almost the same site since antiquity, and there's still a small mosque next to the temple of Venus. The Greek-Orthodox church of Baalbek, which is close by, is still dedicated to Saint Barbara.

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teratosfavouritesnack · 4 months

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You've always been collecting weird stuff, things you'd find in antiquaries or on exclusive auctions. You've always been fascinated by the bizarre, so much so that your house has turned into a freak fest, overflowing with all the trinkets and art pieces you've found through the years and made yours.

The new entry in your collection however is your most treasured possession. It's something you managed to bring home for free despite being the most unique-looking piece you've ever seen. The owner of the antiquity shop had been trying to sell it off for quite some time but without success - possibly due to its damaged state - so he had been more than happy to give it to you, one of his favourite and most loyal customers, knowing you would take good care of it.

And you have. You have been taking great care of it, more than you've ever done before with any of your other pieces. There's just something about this 13 cm (5 inches) tall statue... something about it that lures you in, draws your attention and doesn't let it go. You were quickly propelled to place it in full display on the cabinet in your bedroom and that only made your obsession worsen. The sculpture is so elaborated that every day you find a new detail to focus on and marvel at for hours. The black marble fascinates you like nothing else, but it's the subject that truly has captivated you.

The creature - you don't really have a name for it - stands tall and imposing with its muscular body exposed in all its glory. The head is that of a beast with fangs sprouting from its mouth and crooked horns from its temples. It looks menacing but also inviting, with his hand outstretched forward as if to beckon the viewer to come closer. The other hand is unfortunately missing, but the arm seems to curve towards the hips where among the thick fur a huge veiny cock springs free and erect. The sight of it has made you flush more times than you'd be willing to admit and you always provide that particular area a more thorough wiping to keep it shiny, so that each small eye-catching detail pops out like it was meant to.

You're just... so fascinated by it. You've been wondering about its story since the first moment you laid eyes on it. The statue is clearly old, or at least it looks like it, with all the cracks and beleved corners giving it even more charm. But what's this creature? Does it have a name?

And why is there a scraped plaque sitting at the base that reads: "The Lover"?

Part 1 ???

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

#exophilia #monster fucker #monster lover #monsters #monster kink #monster love #monster x human #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster imagine #monster x reader #monster scenario #terato x reader #terato #teratosnack

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notiddygxthgf · 1 year

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8. night together

★ pairings: plug!wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your bf stop you from finding ur hubby)

★ content warning: smut, angst, lotta porn w a lotta plot, car sex, dealer wakasa, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, so much more..., PUSSYDRUNK WAKASA, unprotected sex, slight angst (but it has nothin on what's coming lol).

★ a/n: SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY HEHE!! this chapter was originally one big one, but then I split it into wo, and then I just put it back into one big old chapter bc why not yall deserve it -- HAPPY 4/20!!!!! next chapter prob gonna be coming in the next few days bc its already basically done lol. THANK U ALL 4 UR SUPPORT!!! ITS A LONG ONE, ENJOY <;33 ;) (YOU KNOW THE DRILL. COMMENT UR THOUGHTS/WISHES!!)

★ w.c.; 10.4k

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THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. For the sake of your own emotional well-being, you had sworn off intimacy – not including sex, of course – with Wakasa until further notice. Non-sexual intimacy was dangerous territory for a hopeless romantic, and you knew that. This little hot fling the two of you had would turn serious real quick. The two of you were supposed to be drinking tea together – well, actually, you had sent Waka off to take a shower. Alone. Yet, somewhere along the way, one thing had led to another, and the next thing you knew your clothes had disappeared and the two of you were pressed against one another beneath the hot water. He had been placing a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses on your damp skin, bringing his arms around your bare waist.

So much for the whole no-intimacy thing.

Wakasa kissed your lips. He pulled back, licking his own, then he reached for one of the bottles on the shelf next to the two of you. Double-checking that it was shampoo, he poured some into his palm. He gave it a quick lather before smearing it over your hair. His hands – skilled, strong – worked the shampoo into your scalp, massaging your skin in a way that had your eyes fluttering shut.

He reached behind your ears. “Tilt your head back, baby,” He told you.

For some reason, you obliged, letting him tilt your head back beneath the waterfall. His fingers scrubbed the tender skin of your temple. The warm water washed away the shampoo residue in your hair and on your scalp.

His touch was so gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you.

How did we get here? You wondered.

“The bathroom is gonna be the first door on the right,” you sighed, dropping a stack of neatly folded clothes and towels into his hand. “Holler if you need anything.”

Wakasa pursed his lips. He set the towels down on the table, keeping his eyes trained on you. He made no sudden move to go to the bathroom. Instead, he brushed your hair out of your face with a gentle hand.

“Might I request you join me, princess?” He hummed.

You felt your face burn.

Wakasa kissed your forehead, squeezing the rest of the shampoo out of your hair.

You took the bottle from him, offering, “Can I wash your hair?”

His eyes widened. For a moment, you noted, he looked to have been caught off guard. Still, he reached for the ponytail in his hair and tugged it out, letting his pretty golden locks fall over his face and his broad shoulders. The purple hues patterning his hair darkened beneath the weight of the water almost immediately.

He looked so beautiful like this. His pretty, girlish face was slightly damp, tinted pink as tiny beads of water rolled off of his lashes. As he let his hair get wet, running his hands through it, he looked so serene – then promptly flipped his hair back. This was the first time, you realized, that you had seen his whole face. Better yet, the first time you’d seen his whole body. He was perfect, chiseled like he had been sculpted out of marble. His tattoos glistened beneath the steady stream of water. You watched the droplets roll down between his pecs, down his toned abdomen, and further down unto –

“You just g’nna stare or do you wanna help me?” He asked, snapping you out of your daze. He had this all-knowing, shit-eating grin plastered right over the lower half of his face.

You rolled your eyes, dripping a generous amount of your expensive shampoo into your palm and then promptly slapping it onto his head. His hands slid around your waist, head tilted back while you massaged the shampoo into his hair.

He sighed, letting his eyes close.

You felt your chest warm at the slight movement. He trusts me.

One of the most feared men in the entirety of Tokyo was in the shower with you, breathing slowly like he’d waited his whole life to feel so calm, so intimate. One of the most feared men in Tokyo was letting you put your girly-smelling shampoo in his hair.

He had put his trust in your hands. For a minute, you were scared you would drop it.

You turned the two of you around, bracing your hand on his chest while the water washed the shampoo away. He moved his hands from your waist to scrub the remainder out, strong arms rippling and dripping with water as they reached behind his head.

He was mesmerizing.

Subconsciously, you found yourself wandering closer to him, closer to the valley of flesh left exposed after he threw his head back. Your lips, more specifically, found their way to his neck, licking and sucking the skin. Wakasa’s teeth flashed when your teeth slipped over the mark you were trying to give him, though he didn’t flinch or even open his eyes. When you elected to run your flattened tongue over the junction between his neck and his collarbone, applying some light suction there, he leaned into you. For the first time, you could taste him, down to the slight saltiness of his skin. It was intoxicating.

You wanted more.

“ Mmm,” he hummed. “I’m s’pose to be the one spoilin’ you tonight, doll.”

You pulled your lips from his skin, but you didn’t go very far, keeping your nose pressed to his skin as you inhaled sharply. You could still smell his cologne – albeit very faintly. In a moment, he wouldn’t smell like him . He would smell like you, like your strawberry-scented bath soap.

“Don’t see why we can’t do both,” You murmured into his skin. Reaching behind him, you pawed around until you felt the shower gel bottle brush against your hand. You tugged it off the rack, then moved away from him.

Wakasa watched with soft, downturned eyes as you put some into the palm of your hand. You gave it a quick lather before placing your hands on his shoulders, then you set off on your mission to coat his entire chest in the pink, strawberry-scented foam.

He turned his nose up at the smell.

“You don’t like?” You hummed. Honestly, it didn’t matter what his answer was. This was the only soap you had. You were going to get him nice and clean, even if it meant he smelled like strawberry shortcake afterward.

“Nah, it’s cute,” He replied. Still, he looked away from your focused face. After a brief silence, he offered. “Would you believe me if I told ‘ya no one’s ever done this for me?”

You knitted your brows together. “You’ve never showered with anyone?”

Wakasa chuckled, licking his lips. “‘Course I have,” he said. “You’re just the first one who's ever gotten so close.”

Despite the fact that you were currently feeling him up – washing him, you were washing him – you felt your face begin to get a little hot. “Don’t like people touching you like this?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Too intimate.”

But we’re…

You paused your scrubbing motions. “Do you want me to stop?”

There was a pause, then he explained, “Feels nice when you do it.”

His voice turned you on like crazy. You couldn’t deny that much.

So you continued lathering him up, reaching beneath his arms to spread the soap onto his back, and then back to his torso. Too intimate. He was right. This was way too intimate considering the two of you were currently walking a thin line. A very thin line.

“Kay,” You smiled. You were okay with that.

Whatever the two of you had, you didn’t want it to end.

Raking your nails over his skin gently, you followed the curves of his waist down to his hips. All of a sudden, the air shifted again. That tension from earlier was back.

So, instead of letting it drip on that way, you brought him in for a slow, passionate kiss. He leaned into you immediately, letting you lather more soap over his navel. When your hand brushed past his crotch, small finger catching on the large appendage he had between his legs, his breath caught.

You could have continued on as if nothing happened. You should have. But, for some reason, you couldn’t move your hand on its own. You brought it down over the sensitive skin again.

This time, his hand caught your wrist.

“Baby,” He spoke, voice a little deeper than before, “Don’t start something you won’t finish.”

You froze for a moment. Finally, feeling your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly, you melted into him. “Who said I wouldn’t finish it?”

He smirked at you, taking a moment to drink in your flustered appearance. Still, he let go of your hand, allowing you to continue exploring the lower half of his body at a pace that suited you.

This is okay, you thought to yourself. Then, as you felt something begin to press into your hand, you affirmed yourself once more, This is okay.

His lips moved for yours. You let him slip his venom into your mouth, lord knew you were poisoned long before you stepped into the shower with him. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and breathing in perfect synchrony with the rapid beating of your heart. His hungry lavender hues drank you in.

You had never felt so vulnerable in your entire life. Subconsciously, your arms folded over the front of your bare body, shielding you from his passionate gaze.

“Lemme see, princess,” He pried your hands away. When you let him brace his strong hands on your hips and back you into the corner of the shower, he sought out your lips with newfound passion. Through a mouthful of you, broken into syllables, he mumbled into your lips, “Fuckin’– breathtaking– y’know?”

You found yourself melting into him for the hundredth time.

“Wish I could paint a picture of ‘ya like this,” He breathed, words heavy with lust and… something more, it seemed. He kissed you again. “You don’t know how long I ‘been dreamin of you, sugar.”

Sugar. He was so sweet that you felt tears begin to pool at the corners of your eyes. Quickly, you brought yourself back down to earth. You had already made the mistake of stepping out. You wouldn’t ruin what you had with Wakasa over some ambiguous feelings – no, that would mean it was all for nothing.

One day, just as all good things did, your time with him would come to an end. You knew it. Flings like these rarely lasted. You knew that was most likely for the best; maybe, by some random stretch of luck, Wakasa would vanish from your life altogether, leaving it the way it had been before you had met him. Maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

But you knew deep down that wasn’t what you wanted. You knew deep down that there would be a 5’2 gap in your heart when Wakasa decided he was done having his fun with you. He would pick up and leave one day, just as you knew he had done for so many others before you, and he would leave you with little more than the fleeting memory of his touch on your skin. Perhaps months, years, decades afterwards, you would look at your skin and – just as you did now – see his lips pressing little memoirs of his passion into your skin. Perhaps you would feel his kisses on your lips, his devilish tongue pouring empty promises and words of endearment into your parched mouth; the way his lips would curl into a smile because he knew his words made you weak.

He made you weak in the best way imaginable.

It was then that you realized that you didn’t want him to leave; not a week, month, or year from now. Even if it was all fake, you wanted to stay – wanted to stay here with him in this pretty little illusion the two of you had created together a little longer.

You opened your mouth, and the words almost left your mouth like some desperate, bubbling plea.

‘Stay with me’

The realization struck you with the force of a trainwreck; you were falling for him.

Wakasa hooked his finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking him. You hadn’t even realized you had looked away.

“You’re so beautiful,” He smiled weakly, like the sight of you had taken his breath away. “You make it so hard to leave.”

You ached for him. “Stay the night,” you breathed.

Wakasa captured you in another dizzying kiss. It was slower this time, passionate, intimate. It had you reeling for more. You wanted all of him tonight – for all you knew, tomorrow would come and he would leave you. He would leave you to be conflicted by your lonesome, and all of this would be a foggy memory.

You wanted to paint an image of him so vivid in your memory that you would never forget it – that you would never forget about this night, about how he looked, felt… tasted.

So, without another word, you dropped to your knees. Splaying your hands out over his thighs, you craned your neck up to look at him. He peered down at you with the element of surprise playing at his features.

You wrapped your hand around his semi-hard shaft. “Wanna taste you,” You licked your lips. “Can I?”

Wakasa mirrored your action, flitting his tongue over his pink lips while he slicked some more of his violet tresses back – revealing more of that beautiful face you wished you could call your own. “Go ‘head, pretty baby,” he purred, petting his hand over your hair to brush it away from your face. “‘M all yours.”

His words – however fictitious they may have been – made your heart squeeze.

You pressed a kiss to his tip, gauging his reaction. When you saw him lazily smiling down, you took him into your mouth without any further warning.

He exhaled sharply, leaning over you to brace a hand on the shower wall. Th e muscles in his arm tensed as he tried to gain stable footing. Hungrily, you raked your eyes up his navel, the roses and ink tatted on his toned chest, his broad shoulders – you wondered if he knew you burned for him.

Sucking him back into your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks. You worked up quite a bit of spit near the back of your throat, pulling off to spit on him before practically swallowing him back up.

Wakasa sighed. He brought his spare hand town to caress the side of your face, to make you look at him while your lips were stretched around his length. He throbbed in your mouth, growing bigger as you felt him get harder.

“Fuck,” He breathed. “Y’look good with my dick in your mouth, baby.”

You felt that way. When his hand slipped behind his head to guide your head gently, bobbing you back and forth on his dick. You were struggling to fit the whole thing in your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you were determined. His shudders and sighs spurred you onward.

If this was going to be the last night you ever spent with him, you wanted to make it memorable.

“Takin’ it so well,” He purred, guiding your head while simultaneously allowing you to set your own pace.

You felt that fire in your core reignite, making you press your legs together while you pulled back for a moment to slurp on the tip rather unceremoniously, spit dripping down his dick. You tilted your head to the side, wrapping your hands around what you couldn’t fit into your mouth to work the rest of him. Your tongue swirled around his dick.

As you braced your hands on his hips to sink your head the rest of the way down, you met some resistance, eyes watering as you felt yourself gag on him. He pulled you back a bit. You swatted his hand away, pushing him back into your mouth with determination.

Above you, the muscles in Wakasa’s arm tensed. With a blissful sigh, he leaned his head back. The water ran over his hair and down his face, sticking his lashes together in bunches. He was so fucking pretty, it made your heart skip a beat.

His chest rose and fell steadily, water droplets streaming down his body. It made for the perfect lubricant. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, which parted soon after to release a trembling sigh of your name.

Then his hand fisted itself in your hair, and you felt yourself mewl. Just when you went back for more of him, he tugged you off. His dick sprang free with an uncharacteristically funny pop. A glance to your left made you realize that the clear glass of the shower door had fogged up.

You knitted your brows, peering up at Wakasa through lust-ridden eyes. “W’happened?” You asked, still a little breathless. “Was it bad?”

“No, shit, you were doing great,” Wakasa shook his head. Judging by the way his thigh trembled beneath your grasp, he wasn’t lying to save your ego. He reached for your shoulders, tugging you up onto your feet. He pressed you further into the wall. He sealed his lips together with yours, bringing his hands around the small of your back. “Wanna feel you,” He sighed into your mouth. “Made me miss your pretty pussy.”

You chuckled, though you felt the river between your legs trickle down your thigh at his words. You wouldn’t have been surprised if Wakasa revealed that he was some sort of incubus all along. “You just had it an hour ago, baby.”

Baby. You froze. The nickname had slipped out.

He knew it. With a small grin resting on his lips, he pressed your noses together. “I know,” he panted. “Think ‘m addicted.”

“Yeah?” You played dumb. Easing into his touch, you allowed his hand to slip between your bodies. “How’d that happen?”

“Been cravin ‘ya like an addict since I first met ‘ya. Got me actin’ a fool, ‘s like an itch,” He hummed. His fingers squished the chub of your stomach, and then traveled down further – towards that ache between your legs. He kissed you again, for the hundredth time. “Only ‘that pussy can scratch.”

You let him bury his face in your neck, placing hot kisses on your sensitive flesh. Tangling your fingers in his bi-colored locks, you sighed. “What a shame. How should we go about resolving this problem?”

And then, as he roughly gripped your hips and then promptly turned you around – pressing your face into the wet wall – you gasped.

“Depends,” He continued, like nothing had changed. His voice was deep, vibrating between your own ribs. Slowly, carefully, he pressed into your backside – a reminder of his desires sitting hard and warm against the meat of your ass. “You g’nna deny a poor addict his fix?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You arched into him. With a smile, you continued playing along with him. “Someone’s got’ta satisfy those cravings.”

He nudged your legs open with his foot. You let him.

“You’re playin’ with fire, baby,” He purred, words playing at the soft spot you had for him. “You wouldn’t mind me keepin ‘ya up all night, would ‘ya?”

All night . You would handle everything that came with being his, even if that meant losing some sleep in the process. Well, that, and your ability to walk.

“Bring it on,” was your answer. “I can take it.”

“Yeah? Think you can handle me, pretty girl?” His hand reached around your torso to cup your breasts, shielding your sensitive nipples from the ice cold wall of the shower. The comfort was only brief, however, as he began kneading the flesh with his strong, warm hands. “Now’s the time for any objections.”

It was hard to focus on him when his tip had already coaxed itself in between your folds. You shuddered, pressing back into him.

Turning your head around, you brought your foreheads together. The way his lips gravitated towards you was remarkable. You locked lips again, wordlessly sealing your fate – parting only to mutter your final request. “Pull out, okay?”

He groaned at your words, pulling you back until your ass was flush with his hips. His grip, unrelenting, would surely leave bruises tomorrow. You didn’t care.

“Tap me if it hurts, princess,” He crooned, warm breath sending chills down your bare spine. Then, without so much as a warning, he lined his tip up with your aching hole and pressed his hips forward. Despite the burning stretch, it felt so good to be filled by him. It was as if your body had been made for it.

★

“ Waka , please, I– ” You pleaded with the man. Your hand had found its way down to his head, gripping his damp, disheveled locks like your life depended on it. In a matter of seconds, he had single-handedly reduced you to a babbling mess. “ Mnnnh -”

He groaned into your flesh. With your thighs pressed against both sides of his head, he made for a pretty sight. His hair was tied into a bun, though you had ruined most of it with your ruthless rutting. He did nothing to stop you as you clamped your legs over his ears, shamelessly riding his face.

Prying your legs away from his face, Wakasa gasped for air. His face was flushed a pretty shade of red. His eyes were wild, lustful as your juices dripped off the sides of his face. “Taste better than I dreamed of,” he panted.

You lifted your hips away from his face in an attempt to make it easier for him to breathe. Your efforts were in vain. He gripped your hips harshly, seating you on his face and then continuing to eat you up like a man starved.

You found it difficult to pry your eyes away from him. He looked so happy to be trapped between your thighs like this, like he had been waiting ages for it. The way he sucked and slurped expertly at your dripping cunt had your legs trembling around him.

“Sit,” he mumbled through a mouthful of your clit.

“Don’t wann’... ngh,” You leaned forward, bracing your hands over the bed frame while he dragged your hips back and forth, back and forth over his face until the friction was almost too much to bear. He had been eating you out for the last two hours straight, stopping only very briefly between orgasms. “G’nna crush you.”

“Sit,” he affirmed. You were in no state to disobey. “Ride my face.”

You reached one hand down again and tugged on his hair. To your shock, he liked it. You felt the vibration of his deep, guttural groan against the mess he had made between your legs.

“Ka… Kasa , please–” You managed to get out through a string of broken moans.

He moaned, pushing your hips up against his nose. He never stopped his incessant licking and sucking, tongue working you up to what would be your fourth orgasm of the night. Your pussy was sensitive, so sensitive, yet he wasn’t going any easier on you. At this rate, you were convinced you would have to beg for mercy.

“Can’t…” You panted. You weren’t sure you could finish another time. You were sore and tired, and you were beyond overstimulated.

“C’mon, princess,” he paused his desperate licking to beg. “Just one more.”

You licked your lips, feeling tears begin to well at the corners of your eyes again. It was all so much… too much. “I can’t,” you gasped.

“You can do it, baby,” He purred. Sucking harshly on your clit – and then making up for it with a few gentle licks – he added. “Jus’ one more for me, ‘kay?”

On cue, he slid his hands up to your waist, flipping the two of you over until it was him pinning you down at the foot of your bed. The towel he had laid out beneath the two of you was drenched. You weren’t sure if you could take any more.

“Waka, I don’t–” You began, abruptly cutting your own sentence off with a gasp as he took two digits and plunged them into your hole. “ Fuck .”

Wakasa’s long fingers immediately found your sweet spot, rubbing a slow, steady circle to ease you into the sudden intrusion before he began curling them upward. You saw stars.

You raised your head off the bed, trying to rest your weight on your trembling elbows so you could get a good look at him. You would never forget the sight of him on his knees like that, hungry eyes devouring your sweaty body while he worked you open like some sort of expert. His lips were red, shaped in an ‘o’ as he struggled to catch his breath. His hair – despite having been ruined by your legs – framed his pretty face the same way it usually did. His face was dusted with a gentle, rosy hue again.

You were embarrassed, oddly enough, and dropped your head down to cover your face with your hands. He couldn’t be real. There was no way this was real. It was too good to be true. “‘ Kasa, ple-ease ,” you stammered. It was getting hard to form coherent sentences when he was in your guts like this.

He curved his fingers up into your cunt, marveling at the way you gripped him.

Somehow, despite the odds, the coil in your gut was drawing tighter and tighter. He was reaching deep inside of you and undoing you from the inside out like the lace strands of a tightly wound corset. You wanted more. No, fuck, you needed more. But in all honesty, you weren’t sure you could take any more. The brutal pace of his long, dextrous fingers was making your mind go blissfully blank, slurred words and broken moans pouring out of your mouth a mile a minute as you struggled to hold on.

Then, something happened. He curved his fingers up sharply at just the right angle, thrusting his hand up and down, and – before you knew what was happening, you felt yourself squirting all over his arm.

“‘ Kasa -aah– ,” You whimpered as if that name were the only thing anchoring you down to the present. You chanted it like it was a mantra. Ignoring your cries, he moaned at the display, giving you only a few seconds to recover before he was doing the same thing again. “‘Kasa, ‘Kasa, ‘Kasa – fuck !”

“I know, baby, I know,” He reassured you. He began kissing his way back down your thighs. Somehow, his hand found yours, a firm grasp comforting you while tears poured from your eyes. “Y’er doin’ so good. Think ‘ya can do one more for me?”

Him. Do it for him.

It felt so fucking good – but it was so much. You didn’t know how to vocalize your feelings.

He reached over you, onto the nightstand, and then produced your phone. “Gonna give you something to watch when I go home,” He mumbled.

You saw the flash go on, and then he continued fingerfucking you.

“Say hi to the camera, baby,” He crooned. Pressing a kiss to the outside of your thigh, he added, “Taking it so well.”

You hid your face. “Waka,” You whined.

He tilted his head, grinning at you.

In a brief moment’s width, his lips joined his fingers, tongue licking quick stripes over your abused clit while he pressed on that spot that made your vision go white.

“ Waka, wait,” You gasped. “Feel like ‘m g’nna pee.”

“Just relax, baby,” he mumbled into your dripping wet cunt. His lips departed from your flesh briefly, but only to roughly scoot your ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding your concerns, he quickened the pace of his fingers. His hair was tangled in your fist while the rest hung in strings over his face – for a moment, you didn’t even care that he was recording anymore. “‘M g’nna take care of ‘ya,” He groaned, the sound muffled by your trembling thighs. “G’nna make you feel real good, promise.”

“ Mmmfuck – wait,” You gasped. Your body, however, gave a different signal. You yanked his hair and then trapped his head between your thighs with your legs. The moans – increasing in pitch – were falling out of your mouth uncontrollably now. He had taken you to the point of no return, to the point where broken pleas of his name were the only thing coming from your lips. Your legs spasmed once more before you gushed all over his wrist again, spraying him in the face this time. He eagerly licked you up. Thankfully, he had moved your phone out of the way just in time. “‘ Ka-sa! ”

“Want ‘ya to see how perfect you look with my fingers in ‘ya,” Wakasa moaned against your clit, but the sound seemed to be swallowed down every time he sucked on the sensitive bud. “Keep goin’-- doin’ so good.”

The flash disappeared behind your thighs.

He gasped as you tugged harder at his tresses in response. You could feel your guts clenching around his finger like you were trying to push him out. The sheer power this man had over you was near absurd. In a span of six hours, he had gotten you to completely abandon your morals. Not only that, but he had you rocking your hips back on his fingers like a desperate whore, chasing that sweet sweet release you so desperately craved.

“M’gh… fuck–” You pleaded, sentences reduced to mere gibberish. “‘Kasa, baby...”

He pulled away from your pussy, letting his fingers work you open, pressing deep into your g-spot. “I got you, baby,” He panted, peering up at you with such feverish hunger that it made you squirm. “Feel good?”

Desperately, you stumbled to find the right words. What came out, whatever, was a broken cry of “Mhm”.

“Why don’t you tell the camera who’s makin’ you feel good, hm?” He hummed, continuing to abuse your hole with unwarranted strength.

“ Wakasa ,” It slipped out. Truly, you had never intended to let it slip. Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of your core, your lips spilled praise of his name. “‘Kasa, m’gn’na cum, fuck . ”

“Good kitty,” His smirk grew in size. He licked some of you off of his lips, and then hummed, “Cum for me.”

Instantaneously, somehow, his fingers pressed the right spot – just the right amount of pressure – then it snapped. The coil of your release snapped with all of the power of a freight train, your orgasm slamming into you in a way that had your back arching up off of the bed. Your hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while feeling every last stroke of his long fingers against your walls. You could feel the shock tear through you in waves, tearing trembling gasps from your lungs while you expelled your juices all over his hand and the bed. “‘ Kasa,” you gasped again once the pleasure had cleared long enough for you to think. Not Takeomi, Wakasa.

It felt so good to breathe his name, to claim him – even if he wasn’t necessarily yours.

“Fuck, ” You mewled. Finally, you laid your head back. You felt fucking ruined . The drag of each of his knuckles against your hypersensitive walls as he fucked you – albeit much gentler than before, as if easing you down from your high – through the aftershocks of your orgasm was making you shake even harder.

The flash turned off. He set your phone somewhere off to the side.

He slid his fingers out of you slowly, savoring the way you clenched around them one last time before pulling out. He sucked the slick of your arousal off of his fingers.

“You’re a movie star, baby,” He teased, fixing the shorts you had lent him – Takeomi’s shorts, ironically enough – before collapsing next to you on the bed. The two of you panted, desperate to catch your breath. You were too weak to say anything as he turned your head to the side, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. You could still taste yourself on his tongue – tangy, warm. “Did so good.”

You whimpered weakly in response. Wakasa chuckled, throwing his arm over your shaking form.

“You okay, pretty girl?” He hummed, tucking your hair away behind your ear.

You were still too weak to respond, letting your trembling legs to the talking.

“Gimme a sec,” he pushed himself off of the bed, sliding off the side and disappearing behind your bedroom door. The world seemed to spin in his absence, chest heaving slowly while you came down to earth. Everything was buzzing.

When Wakasa returned, he had a glass of water in his hand. He knelt beside you on the bed, picking your spent body up and then offering the cup to you. “Here, drink up,” he said. “Don’t pass out on me.”

You let him tilt the water into your mouth, dry lips lapping at the cold beverage like you hadn’t drank in days. You sighed. Fuck, that was refreshing.

He moved you back to the front of the bed, laying you down on the pillows while he tugged the towel out from beneath you. You were half expecting him to leave. He didn’t. Instead, he held you close to him, pulling the sheets over your body. His lips pressed kisses all over your forehead.

It was… almost too intimate. Takeomi had never done anything like this for you before. The feeling had your face burning up. There were so many thoughts swimming around in your head now that you felt almost overwhelmed by your own emotions.

“‘Kasa…” You finally said.

“Hm?” He hummed. He was so warm. The bed was barely big enough for the two of you.

“I can’t feel my legs,” You noted. “I can’t make it up to you.”

He shook his head. “Jus’ relax, doll.”

“You sure?” You asked again. “I don’t wanna give you blue balls.”

“I’ll be fine, princess,” He replied.

You whined, poking him in the side. “Stop. I wanna make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” He hummed. He paused briefly while his eyes scanned the room, and then he turned back to you. “Y’know what would really make my night, doll?”

“Wha…?” You trailed off, voice teetering on the verge of a whisper.

“You got any of that Wedding Cake left over?” He asked. “I’ve been moving into a new penthouse. Lost my stash in transit.”

You felt yourself begin to smile. A smoke did sound nice right about now. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to spark though,” You sighed, nestling into his side. “Got a pipe and a grinder in the nightstand.”

Wakasa laughed. You rested your head on his bare chest, relishing in the way it felt. For a moment, you could pretend his heart was beating for you. “That beat, huh?”

You nodded wordlessly. It was cold for a moment when he left your side, but it wasn’t long at all before he returned, this time with your glass pipe and grinder in hand. “‘There a lighter in there?” He asked.

“Mhm,” You giggled. You could stay here for hours with him sitting next to you on the bed, your head resting in his lap. Days, even. If only reality permitted such luxuries.

You tilted your head upward, watching him hold your pipe between two fingers while he popped open the grinder and placed a nug between the prongs. He ground it up, and then lightly tapped the side of the metal container. You watched carefully as he pinched some weed between his fingers and patted it down into the bowl. He repeated this process one more time until the bowl was full.

“You’re gonna have to sit up,” he chuckled, tapping the side of the red pipe. The glass curvatures sparkled beneath the dim lamp on your nightstand.

You followed his command – very weakly. He held the opening of the pipe up to your lips, instructing you to pinch the hole closed. He flicked the lighter once, twice, and then there was that familiar, faint sizzling sound as the flame finally took to the pipe.

You sucked in, breathing the smoke in and then holding it there before exhaling. Immediately, you felt calm.

“Mmm,” you hummed. You took one more hit before snuggling into his side. To your surprise, he let you. One of the most dangerous men in Japan was letting you cuddle up next to him.

His lips formed a seal over the end of the pipe, lifting his arm up to light the bowl. When it began to sizzle, he let out a few small puffs, then took one big hit. You watched him eagerly as he rested his head against your headboard, exhaling the smoke up and away from the two of you like a chimney.

His features relaxed a bit. Then he smiled and looked at you, and you felt yourself freeze up. He was so perfect, so beautiful, you wished you could remember this moment forever.

Somewhere along the way, your thumb had begun to trace the intricate linework on his tatted chest.

He sparked up for you again, letting you suck two more hits out of the pipe before fanning some of the smoke away. The exchange continued for five or ten more minutes.

“I’m supposed to see Takeomi tomorrow,” You sighed, but you never once shifted away from him.

Wakasa chuckled. “Don’t remind me about your boyfriend.”

Your hand traveled down, over his abs. You let your finger trace the lines there – he had a six-pack.

“Do you have any tattoos other than the roses?” You asked him. You realized you had never really seen his back before.

Wakasa nodded. He pointed to his left arm, the one you weren’t leaning on, and tilted it towards you. “Got a dragon here,” He traced a finger over the ink – the face of a traditional dragon grinning back at you from his arm. “And I got a leopard on my back. Wanna see?”

You nodded, releasing his arm from your grasp. He leaned to the side, revealing his toned back, and – sure enough – there was ink. Colored ink. A white leopard stood immortalized on his back, standing on a bed of roses. The sheer detail of his backpiece had your mouth agape.

Seemingly moving on its own, your hand splayed itself over the leopard on his back. When he didn’t move away from you, you continued tracing it. “Did it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah. Burned, though.”

“Do they have a meaning?” You asked, referring to all of his tattoos, even though you couldn’t bring your hand away from his chiseled back.

“The dragon means I’m loyal to the Black Dragons. Got roses ‘cus I’m’ma rose kinda’ guy,” He hummed. Turning his head to the side, he undid his bun. His smooth blond locks cascaded over his back. He gathered his hair to the side, draping it over one shoulder so you could continue looking at the ink on his back. “Got that one so people know who they’re talkin’ to.”

The leopard glared back at you. You paused your gentle tracing motion. “The White Leopard,” you breathed.

“Smart girl,” He chuckled, sitting back against the headboard. You watched him smoke again, exhaling through his nose this time.

He offered the pipe to you.

This whole exchange was so intimate. You had never – not in the entirety of your relationship with Takeomi – been in a situation anything like this before. The way he draped an arm over you to pull you closer to him, the way he let you wash his hair in the shower, the sny comments here and there. This all seemed too intimate.

It begged the question: was this really just a hookup?

“Waka,” You felt yourself begin to ask before you understood what you were saying. It could have been the weed. You felt like your mouth had a mind of its own. Although, it could have been that your mind was too foggy for you to think anything of it. Your lips parted to utter the forbidden question. “What is this?”

He knitted his brows. “What do you mean, doll?”

“ This ,” You gestured to the lack of space between the two of you. “What are we?”

He pressed the pipe to your lips, torching the bowl. You took a deep breath and then breathed out more smoke. It was hard to focus with his hands so close to your face. His hands that still smelled a bit like you.

“‘Dunno,” He answered honestly. “Wha’d’ya want it to be?”

What did you want this to be? You didn’t know. Part of you wanted him to leave. Part of you wanted him to stay. Part of you wanted to be his, even if you tried to suppress those urges.

“I don’t know,” Was your honest response. Really, you didn’t. “I don’t know what I want.”

“You don’t have to,” He noted. His eyes met yours. “We can fool around as long as you like. Jus’ casual fun, long as Take don’t find out.”

Casual fun. You were reminded, once again, that you were merely a placeholder. Wakasa was probably seeing other women.

You swallowed. “‘Kasa…”

“Yeah?” He hummed.

The words left your mouth on their own.

“I think ‘m falling for you.”

The room got so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You felt your own heart sink in tandem. The energy in the room shifted, it was tense, and you knew you had said the wrong thing.

“That could be a problem,” He noted.

Your stomach churned at his words. Shit. Shit.

“I don’t care,” You replied. “I just want to know how you feel – where we stand.”

Wakasa helped himself to another much-needed hit. His eyes flitted upward, towards the ceiling as he held his breath. “The real question, doll, is where you stand,” he remarked, letting the smoke pour from his mouth. “For the sake of your relationship, I don’t think ‘ya want to know how I feel ‘bout you.”

You furrowed your brows. “I do want to know.”

“Don’t matter, princess. At the end of the day, you got a boyfriend,” He said. He took one more hit, and then added, “The moment feelings get involved, shit gets messy.”

He was right. You knew he was right, and yet you couldn’t help but feel your heart squeeze almost painfully at the realization.

You figured you would try one more time, even if it meant embarrassing yourself. “If Takeomi weren’t in the picture…” You trailed off. “Would it be different?”

“Honestly, yeah. ‘M not a fan of being the side guy, especially not to Takeomi,” he said. Then, he turned to look at you. “But I do it for you.”

That comment made your head perk up, gazing back into his violet hues with wide eyes. “Why?”

“Dunno,” He sighed. His exterior dropped and, for a moment, you could see the truth in his eyes. He couldn’t tear them away from you. It was as if he was hooked on you too. “It’s stupid. I gotta be stupid… but ‘s like you’re my weakness. Can’t stay away from you.”

“This… this isn’t just casual sex, is it?” You swallowed, choosing to restate the obvious. “Do you feel it too?”

Wakasa averted his eyes, setting the pipe on the nightstand and laying his head on the pillow. “Yeah,” he finally said. “But what does it matter?”

You nestled next to him, pulling the blanket over the both of you. Wakasa, to your surprise, leaned into your touch. He seemed so vulnerable in the moment, like you made him weak. As weak as he made you. In the moment, he appeared to be the truest version of himself – a man with emotions who had dug himself a hole perhaps a little too deep.

“Casual sex is all I ‘ever known,” He added. “But you feel like home. ‘Never felt that before.”

You drew your body closer to him. It felt nice, to be so close.

“I know that makes me a moron,” He said. His eyes were trained very closely on the ceiling. “But you haven’t left my mind since the moment I first laid eyes on ‘ya. I thought it was g’nna be quick, y’know? The typical cliche of the unhappy girlfriend gettin’ her pleasure from someone else,” Here he paused, turning back to you. “I can handle that. Jus’ wasn’t expecting this.”

The tears returned to the corners of your eyes, beginning to pool as you struggled to hold your breath. You felt like one moment, one slight movement was all it took to break the bond the two of you shared. If that were the case, you would stay by his side as long as you could.

“I know he treats you like shit. I ‘seen the way he talks to you, and, just–” He trailed off. The way his hair fell into his face as he snuggled his head into the pillow was almost hypnotic. “I could treat you better. So much better, ‘know I could. I’ve never felt that for anyone before.”

He breathed in slow and then exhaled.

He could very well have been lying. Chances are, he’d probably said something similar to the last girl. And the one before that. And the one before that. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. However superficial, you drank up his words like you were thirsty and his lips were a fountain. You hadn’t even realized you were tearing up until you felt a teardrop roll down your cheek.

Why did life have to be so unfair?

Amidst the tranquil beauty of a dimly lit bedroom, the two of you laid side by side, locked in a silent embrace. You were undeniably confused, torn between your six-year relationship with a powerful kingpin and your undeniable affection for your forbidden lover.

Wakasa was enigmatic and alluring, with a mysterious air that drew you towards him like a moth to a flame. He was everything Takeomi wasn't – spontaneous, daring, and adventurous. You were captivated by his charisma and found yourself falling deeper into his spell.

Wakasa’s dark eyes gazed into yours, filled with longing. “I wanna make you mine,” he murmured. “So bad. Can’t help myself when ‘m with you.”

Your heart clenched. You knew you were betraying your boyfriend, but your feelings for Wakasa were too strong to ignore. "I want to be yours," she confessed, her voice wavering. “But ‘m scared.”

Wakasa’s thumb caressed your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, feeling torn between two worlds. "I know," he said softly. "It would be unfair for me to take this any further than we are right now. Don’t wanna do that to ‘ya.”

You closed your eyes, feeling torn and conflicted. You never imagined yourself being stuck in this situation, torn between two men, unsure of what to do. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and your heart was in turmoil.

Wakasa peered into your eyes, his gaze heavy with conflicting emotions. "I don’t wanna be the reason for your pain, but I jus’ can’t bring myself to leave you alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "I wanna be with ‘ya more than anything in the world, but it’s not that simple.”

You nodded, tears, building up in your eyes. You knew he was right, but the thought of remaining casual with him when you had all of these feelings swelling in your chest was unbearable. At the same time, however, you couldn’t imagine giving up what the two of you had. “I know,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “But I don’t know if I can keep my emotions out of what we have… You’ve been so good to me, and I just…”

Wakasa cupped your face, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. “I wish I could run away with ‘ya, doll, but we gotta be realistic,” he said, his voice filled with longing. “There can’t be a happy ending for us. You know that, don’t ‘ya?”

Your heart clenched as you thought about the repercussions of your forbidden affair. You knew very well that Takeomi could easily send his men after your head. You would spend the rest of your life running. You weren’t sure you could handle that. "You're right," you said softly. "We can't continue like this."

Yet, still, as the of you sat there side by side – with the tension so thick you could have cut through it with a knife – you couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t really want to give you up. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to look at Wakasa, the desire and longing in your gaze mirroring his own.

Wordlessly, Wakasa closed the difference between the two of you, his hand tilting your chin up so your faces were aligned. Your lips met in the middle in a searing kiss, filled with all the passion and intensity that had been building between the two of you for so long. You couldn’t resist.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, letting him pull you over his body and into his lap. You paused briefly before deepening the kiss, your lips moving hungrily against one another as if this were the last. Time seemed to stand still. Slowly, you felt yourself get lost in his lips.

Your bodies pressed up against one another, the heat and urgency of your longing evident in every delicate touch. You could feel the gentle ripple of his muscular torso beneath you as he breathed through the kiss. You knew you shouldn’t be indulging in him so shamelessly, not after the conversation the two of you had just had, but you couldn’t help it.

As he finally pulled away, breathing ragged, you looked into his eyes, chest heaving with emotion. “You’re making this harder,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Quit playing with my emotions.”

The intimacy beneath his touch was going to send you head over heels into a whirlwind romance. You didn’t need that. He didn’t need that.

Wakasa chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his face. His eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and resignation, raked themselves over your half-naked body. “Sorry, doll,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Can’t help myself. Needed one more before I could go back to playin’ pretend.”

You took a deep breath, trying to halt your tears. “I know it’ll only complicate things further,” You said rather passionately. “But I don’t want to stop doing this with you. I don’t care if we have to sneak around.”

Wakasa smiled almost sadly. He looked as if his heart was aching. “Me neither,” he murmured, voice gentle. “We can keep seeing each other. Jus’ leave our personal feelings out of it, yeah?”

You nodded. You understood what he meant, even though it hurt. You couldn’t afford to let your emotions take control and jeopardize everything you had. You had to be careful and keep your feelings in check. One misstep could ruin this entire arrangement for both of you.

You sighed. “I don’t want him goin’ after us.”

Wakasa’s hand found its way over to yours. “I’ll keep ‘ya safe. Promise,” he said.

You didn’t care if it was an illusion. He looked so ethereal beneath you, hair splayed out on the pillow around his face like a halo. He was so vulnerable, so perfect. Wakasa’s eyes were filled with a mixture of longing and determination. “And if ‘ya change ‘yer mind about being with him,” he said huskily, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek one more time. “I’m a call away.”

You felt your resolve crumble as you crashed your lips down on his, mouths melding together for what must have been the hundredth time that night. You moaned softly, moving your hands from his waist to the pillow beneath his head as you felt him brace his hands on your hips.

You drew a hand back to slip between your heated bodies, dragging down the tatted flesh of his chest with a new purpose. When you felt him harden beneath you, you began to rock your hips back and forth.

“Mmh,” he hummed happily, letting you explore his body. “How do you feel about another round, princess?”

“Very strongly, actually,” You teased, already reaching for the drawstrings on his shorts – Takeomi’s shorts, actually. Wakasa laid back, letting you free his growing erection from the constraints of his clothes.

You spat into the palm of your hand, wrapping it around the head of his dick and then working the spit over the shaft – getting him nice and wet for you. Not like he hadn’t already been dripping from eating your pussy for two hours straight.

“G’nna ride me, pretty girl?” He asked, sliding his hands up your waist while he watched you hover over him. This was moving quickly. Not like you had any objections to that, of course. Clearly, he didn’t either.

You didn’t grace him with a response, instead positioning the tip in line with your dripping hole and then sinking down on him. After the third time that night, there was hardly any stretch. He had worked you open real good.

He gasped, letting his eyes fall shut. You lifted your hips and then sank down on him again. You were still wet from the last two hours of your night with Wakasa, yet the filthy squelching sound your cunt made as it squeezed around him caught even you off guard.

“Think your man knows’is girl is bouncing on my dick right now?” He tutted, though he let you set the pace, sliding back and forth in a way that had the both of you panting for more. The stretch felt amazing – like you could feel him in your stomach. “Raw?”

Fucking back onto his dick, you couldn’t fight the strangled noises that seemed to tear themselves from your core. “‘S big,” You gasped. It took all of the strength you had not to collapse from the force of your tremble as he braced his feet on the bed. Sensing your struggle, he fucked up into you, meeting your thrusts in the middle and sliding in even deeper. “ Fuck , I feel it in my guts.”

“So wet, baby,” he moaned – sinful, sultry, beautiful. When you looked down, his brows were scrunched together, face contorted with concentration. You slowed down to savor the way your hole sucked him in. He hissed, “G’nna make me finish too soon if you don’t cut it out.”

“Mmh,” you giggled, letting him do all of the work for you. He was so good to you. “Want you to cum inside.”

So good, in fact, you thought you might give him a treat.

His eyes widened. “Yeah? I- hah, ” he breathed.

You nodded.

“Fuck,” he groaned, arching his head off the back of the pillow. His lips parted to make way for an uncharacteristically high-pitched whimper. “G’nna… be the death of me.”

You could say the same about him.

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

wanna join the taglist for wakasa imaushi? | or click here to read more

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mah-o-daryaa · 9 months

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ATLA Headcanons: Nations Edition

Water Tribes:

Despite the might of the Fire Navy during the war, around 1000-500 BG (Before Genocide), the Water Tribes were known for producing the best sailors and navigators around the world.

The NWT (Northern Water Tribe) traditions greatly emphasized the Moon Spirit, Tui, whereas the SWT (Southern Water Tribe) traditions preferred the Ocean Spirit, La.

Water Tribesmen were known for being innovative, the greatest example being Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, who invented modern airships and submarines. The first pair of sunglasses, for example, were invented by a Water Tribe immigrant in Republic City. It was an innovation from snow goggles, which were worn frequently in the NWT capital, Agna Qel'a, to prevent snow blindness, and later by Sokka and the Mechanist during the Black Sun invasion in 100 AG (After Genocide).

The people of the Water Tribes were known for migrating to various lands to sustain their population. The first great example was Northerners migrating to the South Pole, circa 4000 BG, followed by the Foggy Swamp, Yokoya (present-day Kyoshi Island), and even had a small Fire Nation diaspora (who were all exiled by Firelord Sozin and later Azulon during the Hundred Years War).

Similar to the stereotype of Fire Nationals being obsessed with honour, common Water Tribe stereotypes included being present-moment oriented (going with the flow), being family-oriented, laziness and never being on time, and (unfortunately) living a hedonistic lifestyle, such as alcoholism and doing the "thing". It didn't help that actual examples existed in the form of Avatar Kuruk.

Earth Kingdom:

The Earth Kingdom was often mistaken for a group of nations rather than a single nation. It didn't help that the various provinces were very dissimilar to one another in language, architecture, customs, and (in the case of Omashu) governmental affairs.

The Earth Kingdom consisted of various diasporas from the other nations, including (but not limited to) Fire Nation colonists in the FN colonies (and later the United Republic of Nations), the Northern Air Temple and surrounding locations, and the aformentioned Water Tribe immigrants in the southeastern Earth Kingdom, the most prominent being the Foggy Swamp tribe, Kyoshi Island, and even the Si Wong Desert.

Common stereotypes for the Earth Kingdom as a whole were rare due to the sheer size and diversity of the nation. For individual nations, Ba Sing Se was seen as complacent and corrupt, Gaoling was opulent but arrogant, whereas Omashu was basically that weird kid nobody wanted to associate with. The sandbenders were seen as rogue criminals, and the swampbenders were mistaken for polar waterbenders.

Related to the above, diaspora groups were given common stereotypes related to their homeland; for example, Kyoshi Islanders were mistaken for Water Tribesmen, the Fire Nation colonists were stereotyped similarly to their countrymen back home, etc.

The Earth Kingdom had a long history of stonework and masonry due to the power of earthbenders. The Northern Air Temple, for example, was built mostly by earthbenders, and stone and marble statues were often built as gifts to foreign diplomats and the crowning of royalty in other nations.

Fire Nation:

The Fire Nation was known for its traditional dances for hundreds of years before dancing was forbidden by Firelord Sozin during the Hundred Year War. During the modern era, the greatest dancers were notably from the Fire Nation, relearning their pre-war culture.

The Fire Nation were also known for glassmaking and metalwork due to their control over fire. These were often sent as gifts or means of trade.

During Firelord Zuko's rule, efforts were made to preserve pre-war Fire Nation traditions including singing, dancing, and dragons.

Pre-centralized Fire Nation had many regional dialects that varied by clan; some examples include the Keohso, the Saowon speaking the Ma'inka dialect, and the Sei'naka speaking the Southern dialect of FN language. Later on, the dialect spoken in the FN capital city was made the official language of the Fire Nation.

Similarly to the Water Tribes, the Fire Nation was known for being innovative and technologically advanced, to the point where Fn engineers were often brought to other nations to improve infrastructure. After the Hundred Years War came to an end, Sokka worked with several such engineers to invent new technology introduced in Republic City.

Air Nomads:

Each Air Temple has its own regional dialect with loanwords from their closest nation. Avatar Yangchen, for example, spoke with the Western dialect, with loanwords from the Fire Nation syntax, whereas Avatar Aang spoke the Southern dialect, with loanwards from the Southern Water Tribe. The Northern and Eastern dialects included Earth Kingdom syntax.

The Air Nomads were known for their traditional songs. Before the war, Air Nomad singers and Fire Nation dancers and musicians often travelled together to performances around the world.

The notion that all Air Nomads were airbenders was actually Fire Nation propaganda. However, Air Nomads who were born airbenders were sent to the Air Temples to train under the monks and nuns while nonbenders were left with other families, hence the misconception.

Every year, male Air Nomads from the Northern and Southern Air Temples travel to the Eastern and Western Air Temples to meet female Air Nomads there. Yes, that's how Air Nomads are born.

Similar to the Water Tribes, the Air Nomads often travelled around various nations, forming diasporas around the world, most commonly in the Earth Kingdom. People forgot about that because of (again) Fire Nation propaganda.

Miscellaneous:

Each Avatar wears an item of clothing that separates him or her from their fellow countrymen (technically canon). Kuruk has his polar bear-dog headress, Kyoshi is pretty self-explanatory, Roku has Sozin's headpiece, Aang immediately stands out too as an Air Nomad, and Korra has a pretty recognizable physicality.

#atla #atla headcanons #water tribe #earth kingdom #fire nation #air nomads #imagine this #hey guys #uhhh #I'm back now #I'm on holiday atm #visiting my relatives and all #so the schedule is a little out of control #I'll be back in a few days

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animatedjen · 3 months

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Question for ya (if you happen to know) - so Cere gave Cal her lightsaber hilt in jfo and he used it to make a split saber but in Jedi survivor she suddenly has one again when fighting Darth Vader. Where'd she get it from? Was it Cordova's? And if not when did she get a new lightsaber?

Good question - we don't actually know. Sometime between the two games Cere built/found a new lightsaber, but (as far as I'm aware) none of the databank entries or side conversations explain its origin.

But this question made me curious about Cere and Cordova's lightsabers, so here's a longer answer with my own ideas:

[Dark Temple Series: cover art by Marco Checchetto, Paolo Villanelli, and Will Sliney]

In the cover art for the miniseries Dark Temple, Cere uses her original saber with its green kyber, but Cordova's saber design doesn't match what we see in Fallen Order. So at some point after these comics, Cordova creates/updates his saber and engraves the Zeffo iconography on its switch.

[Eno Cordova's Fallen Order lightsaber: design by Amy Fry]

This design can be seen briefly in Survivor when you find the saber in Wayfarer's Tomb. And while we don't see it during the game's final cutscene, Cal possibly buries the saber with Cordova after the pyre. But the balance between game mechanics (new customization options from a chest!) and narrative details (didn't Cal already find Cordova's saber in FO?) makes a "canon" answer more challenging.

Cere's first lightsaber had specific design requirements because of its story purpose. Jordan Lamarre-Wan explains the hilt is proportionally shorter so it fits the broken section of Jaro Tapal's staff after Cal combines them. We also know the kyber is gone - Cere sold it to pay off Greez' gambling debts and continue their mission.

Cal might've returned the hilt to Cere after fully restoring his master's saber, or maybe pieces of Cere's saber are still inside. Maybe Cere chose not to use it again or simply wanted Cal to keep it.

In her concept art for Survivor, Theo Stylianides does show Cere holding this first saber and its green kyber, but these illustrations were likely made before the sequel's saber designs were finalized.

(Do I wish she had a green saber in Survivor though? Yeah, I do. Is it possible she was given blue for the aesthetic of blue vs red while fighting Vader? Maybe.)

[Cere's second saber: model by Aaron Fowler]

Cere's new saber, according to Aaron Fowler, is heavily inspired by the "Boone Kestis" concept created by Gus Mendonca in the early development of Fallen Order. The rugged, more utilitarian style matches well with her new role among the Anchorites. Survivor doesn't tell us where the lightsaber came from, but on a planet like Jedha, it's possible she found it or was gifted it while helping create the Archive.

I also think, practically, Cere's first saber would have been difficult to adapt to the new customization options in Survivor. Its small hilt and proportions would've required more alterations to fit the expanded saber components at the workbench. I miss the marble-like textures and woven grip, but I'm glad Cere was allowed to grow and change between games, and her new lightsaber reflects her new identity as both a Jedi and a protector of knowledge.

#thanks for the ask!#help i have feelings about lightsaber symbolism again #jedi survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #cere junda #eno cordova #asks

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avinashmoortiemporium · 3 months

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#radha krishna marble moorti #marble temples #marble statue #hindu god idols #customized marble temple #marble mandir for home #white marble radha krishna statue #radha krishna marble murti #iskon radha krishna murti

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hiraya-rawr · 2 years

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"sacrifice" mc + rex lapis // basically ancient liyue with questionable traditions

you're really just a commoner from a remote village, unlucky enough to be "sacrificed" to rex lapis. think of sacrificial brides but without the blood and ocean part. so there you are, dressed in your best robes, sent as an offering to the temple.

meanwhile, morax was relaxing the day away until he started hearing prayers about "please accept our village's sacrifice" and he's like? sacrifice??what???

he's aware that some customs may get out of hand, especially in the more rural areas, but what is he supposed to do with you who has offered yourself on behalf of your village now? 😭

he can't exactly send you back, in a way it would be disrespectful, especially to your family who gave you up. but he also pities you who has no ties to anywhere anymore.

and the trope changes to "rural commoner gets toured around the progressive and luxurious, bustling harbor of liyue by their very own ruler!"

you honestly didn't know what to expect. a small part of you expected death, hearing stories of the dragon-archon with a bloodlust; another part of you expected to be taken in as a servant, polishing the jade and marble floors of the temples— instead, you were taken in as a sort of... companion.

imagine experiencing so many new things for the first time! the commerce by the port is so different from the sleepy village you grew up in; you try on the latest trends which look rather odd on you but wow the silk feels so soft!; you eat cuisines from different nations, sleep in soft beds and talk with people from various backgrounds.

perhaps you were like a lost soul to zhongli at first. offered by your village with nowhere else to go. he gave you opportunities to step out of your shell, develop into your own person, experience new things.

your time in liyue harbor with him helped you grow— eventually, you'll have the courage to confront him.

"what are we?" you'd ask, and he'd sincerely ponder over the question.

indeed, who are you to him?

he'll give you a fond smile, replying "We are–"

note !! such a random brainrot at 3am, i was honestly torn if i wanted this to be romantic or platonic so might leave it at that!

#hira brainrot #zhongli #zhongli x reader #morax #rex lapis #genshin zhongli #genshin fluff #genshin #genshin impact #genshin found family

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years

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Desecration

Pairing: Gabriel x Fem. Reader

Summary : Gabriel. The archangel fucking Gabriel. He who refuses to sully the temple of his celestial body in any shape or form. And now, he has been ordered to take a day off. What started out as a forced holiday ends up in a night of many delightful firsts.

Themes : Slow burn | Smut

Word count : 5.6k words

Minors DNI | 18+

This is part one of three separate fics, each with a different theme and a different character. The second, featuring Thranduil, and titled Temptation, will be up tomorrow, at the same time.

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

One entire day.

The Creator gave Gabriel time off after that entire debacle following the child of the Adversary and what should have been the war to truly end all wars. Everyone was roused up and angry, and the heavenly authorities didn’t like that. A decision was made, and everyone was given time off to cool off and clear their heads.

And Gabriel?

One day, twenty-four hours, were given to him—well, forced upon him, in his mind at least—to walk amongst mortals, loosen up, and indulge in everything they enjoyed. Gabriel shivered. To desecrate the vessel of his celestial body was unseemly. Vile, even. But, the Creator insisted, and Gabriel agreed. Very, very reluctantly.

Gabriel thought, "How does one indulge oneself?" For his subordinate, Aziraphale, it was easy. He had lived among mortals since creation, and indulging was second nature to him. Fine food and drink, dusty old tomes, tartan—those were just some of the things he liked. Next, there was that bottom dweller, Crowley. Now he would indulge in many things, especially Aziraphale. Oh, they would like to pretend as if nothing were going on, but everyone knew. The Creator knew too, but they didn’t care. They once even privately admitted to finding Crowley rather amusing.

But enough of that. Where did all of this leave Gabriel?

At a complete loss, he finally gave up and let his feet take him anywhere and everywhere. Gabriel wandered around London, peeking through windows, sniffing out the scents wafting from bakeries, restaurants, and everything else. He found himself listening to street musicians and had his portrait painted. A beautiful one, if he said so himself. And he did say so himself. He was, after all, the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.

The hours melted into each other, and Gabriel grew to enjoy the many distractions that mortal life had to offer. By nightfall, his stomach growled. Gabriel was being told he needed to eat.

"You’re making sure I make the most of this, aren’t you?" Gabriel grumbled as he turned his eyes towards the heavens.

I said, enjoy yourself. The Creator’s voice was as clear as a crystal bell on a summer morning. And I’m making sure you get a little bit of motivation for it, so to speak.

Gabriel knew arguing was futile. As was rolling his eyes. The Creator saw all and heard all. Even the thoughts in his head. You can curse me all you want, they cackled, but you still have to go through with this. There was a pause. Another ten hours, in fact.

It was only nine p.m. still.

Gabriel groaned, shook his shoulders, and composed himself. He walked into the nearest café and found himself a seat. The menu was extensive, but he was not in the mood for alcohol.

"What will it be?" You asked as he looked around, trying to figure out what he should do next.

When he looked up the first thing that popped into your head was sculpted marble, long-limbed, strong and dark. The next thing that popped into your head was, get it together, you blithering idiot! He’s just another customer, that’s all.

Gabriel stopped his dithering, deciding to ask for suggestions. "I have no idea," he mumbled, scanning the menu again. "Anything you suggest? But," He lifted his finger. "Nothing to fuzz up the mind."

You huffed. That left out all of the cocktails. And the heavy stuff. Gabriel even waived off all offers for coffee, and he was not in the mood for tea. You grinned and pick up a mug in the end. "Hot chocolate it is, then."

Gabriel watched, thoroughly fascinated with the process. His mouth watered and a sigh rose from the back of his throat when the rich scent of cocoa powder wafted into the air. "And do you drink this with those tiny white things?"

"What?" What tiny white things? You look down at the mug in your hands and see tiny white blobs floating on top. Oh, he was referring to the marshmallows. "You don’t drink them," you said, trying not to raise an eyebrow. "You eat them. They’re quite nice."

"Fascinating," Gabriel said, rubbing his hands together with surprised glee. The prospect of consuming something he once saw as gross matter appealed to him greatly. "Would this count as a meal?"

This time, an eyebrow of yours was raised. "I... what?"

"I’m not from around here," Gabriel added quickly. He was told to enjoy himself, but without giving his true identity away. "Um, this is all new to me."

"Are you from some far-flung corner of the world no one knows about or something?"

Say yes, say yes, rang The Creator’s voice. "Yes," said Gabriel. "From a very remote town in," the Creator pitched in again. "A-alaska? in fact."

"Well," you say as you shake your head and pass the mug to him. Gabriel held up the mug, took a deep breath, and sighed. Now I know why Aziraphale likes living here so much. "If you’re looking to eat, this will go well with it."

Gabriel inspected the slice of chocolate caramel brownie. He sniffed and took a bite. The flavours that washed down his throat were a delight to the very soul. "Oh lord," he mumbled, as if in prayer, and took another bite, another sip of hot chocolate. Gabriel was overcome, even enraptured. The smell, the texture—nothing could compare.

And he was never going to look down on Aziraphale and his love of mortal indulgences again.

The brownie and hot chocolate put him in a fine mood and loosened his tongue. Gabriel grew curious about you and asked many questions. "So why do you work in a place like this?" he asked finally.

"I like the hours, I get to sleep in most mornings," you said, as you wiped down the counter. "And the pay is good, so--"

"It’s a win-win for you?" This is what he picked up from Aziraphale.

"It is, yes."

"And the people who come here?"

"A blur of faces, actually." You walked to the other side of the counter and made yourself comfortable on a stool next to him. It was a slow night, but Gabriel aroused your curiosity. Why not make the most of it? "They tip me, give me no trouble, and I pay them no mind." You picked up a glass of water and sipped. "Save for you."

That piqued his curiosity. "Really?"

You leaned in, your eyes narrowing to thin slats. "You’re the first person I’ve met who’s never heard of marshmallows before."

Gabriel leaned in and played along. "You’re kidding."

Your lips were so close, you were sure if one leaned in any further, they'd be kissing the other. "Mm-mm," you mumbled and pulled back, helping yourself to some olives. "I’m not kidding. Just about everyone I know knows about marshmallows."

"There's always a first," Gabriel said, holding up his mug.

You clinked your glass against it. "Yes. Yes, there is. So tell me, what is a man like you doing in a place like this?"

Gabriel kept up a lively chatter while doing his best not to give much away. "And they messed up all our plans," he said, in light of Aziraphale and Crowley meddling with the end of the world. "Now we have to start all over again."

"It was just a small business project," you say while trying not to gawk at Gabriel. The way he carried himself was very much in the image of a man in charge, very much the image of a raven-haired god that had stepped out of some Renaissance artist’s studio. You gulped and looked away. "And no one was affected by it, so it can’t be that bad."

"Oh, if you only knew," Gabriel exclaimed as he finished the brownie and requested another. The taste did wonders for him, put him at ease. He looked around, first at the other tables, then at you, how you moved, how your wool sweater and leggings clung to you in the right places. Gabriel flushed, wondering what was going on with him. "And the worst part is, they got to run wild again. No consequences at all."

"Such a terrible pair, getting away like that," you swallowed hard and averted your gaze when Gabriel flashed the type of smile that any rational person would have labeled as a weapon of mass destruction. Trying not to hum, trying to ignore yourself going weak at the knees, you continue. "But since your boss isn’t mad, I suppose it’s not that big of a deal?"

The Creator and their ineffable plan. "No," Gabriel mumbled. "No, they’re not. In fact, they insisted I take the day off to recover from the whole debacle."

"That’s a great boss you have there."

Gabriel flashed that jaw-dropping smile again. "Indeed." He caught the faint hint of red tinging your cheeks and smile even more, his heart slightly aflutter. "Indeed."

The minutes seemed to melt into each other. Gabriel let you get back to work, content to hang around and savour all the food on offer while you were occupied. His body was a temple that should never be desecrated, that was what he always believed. But here, now, eating all the delicious food, and drinking soothing hot chocolate, he was convinced that a little desecration may not be so bad after all. When the time came to close up, and for him to pay, he was pleasantly surprised to find a shiny new credit card in a shiny new wallet.

You go over the company name on the card, "Gabriel, Celestial Holdings." Interesting, you think, but it doesn’t matter so long as the sale goes through. Much to your relief, and Gabriel’s, it did. "This is the name of the company you work for? And is your name Gabriel?"

"W-what?" Gabriel looked at the card, trying not to gawk. When he reached out for advice, all he got was white noise. The Creator had gone silent. Not knowing what else to do, Gabriel just nodded. "Yes," he said vigorously. "Yes. That is the name of the company. A family holding, if you will. And yes, my name is Gabriel."

"Y/n," you introduce yourself. "So is your dad the boss?"

"You could say that, yes."

"And the two who caused that epic mess?"

"My brother," Gabriel said of Aziraphale. "And a friend of my brother," he said of Crowley. "Curse my luck."

"Nepotism?" You purse your lips and return the card.

He came up with the only answer he could think of, one he’d heard Crowley give in such a situation. "In our line of business, nepotism is the only way to go."

"I see." You locked up the register and waited until your boss came out to close the shop. Gabriel watched too, realizing the night had to come to an end. He didn’t want it to come to an end. He flushed again when you smiled at him.

"Is there anything else to do around here?" said Gabriel, as nonchalantly as possible. He never truly acquired the art of interacting with humans the way Aziraphale and Crowley did, and he hoped it wouldn’t show. "I have another," Gabriel looked at the time and calculated how many hours he had left. "Six hours left before I hit the road."

You looked up from rummaging through your purse. "Go on," your boss said. "Have some fun before heading home."

You lean over the counter, your mouth set in a grim line. "If you’re up to no good…"

"Nothing of the sort," Gabriel said calmly, raising his hands. "I just like spending time with you, that’s all."

There was this energy coming off of him, something you couldn’t quite describe, speaking to your gut and telling you to trust him, and there were plenty of places you could take him, all public and still full of people even at such an ungodly hour. "Alright," You grab your coat and your keys. "Follow me."

💫

Gabriel was enthralled. You showed him the sights and took him on a train ride.

He sat close to you, looking around, talking to those around him. Gabriel was so full of energy and considerate. If he felt a conversation was going on for too long he’d make excuses before turning to you with a grin on his face, as if nothing made him happier than to talk to you.

It made you happy to have him talk to you, to have his attention solely on you. After a pleasant train ride, and a pleasanter walk, you took him to a twenty-four-hour movie theater. It was a completely different experience for an angel who had never seen a film before. He had seen acting during a stint in ancient Greece, but modern movies were a novelty he had not experienced till tonight.

Finally, after some back and forth, the two of you settled on a romantic comedy. Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, especially during the romantic scenes. "Do people kiss someone like that, just because they’re acting?"

You nod over your popcorn. "Yes. Yes, they do."

"Interesting," Gabriel said as he leaned over to dust off a piece of popcorn that had fallen onto your blouse's collar. His fingers grazed against your throat. It was such a simple act, yet it made your pulse scramble, and your cheeks flush. You quickly face the screen, all too aware of Gabriel’s gaze on you.

Strange, how such a reaction could enchant him so. "We don’t have such things where I’m from."

"Really?" You shake your head in disbelief. "No films? No kissing?"

"No."

"No?" Your disbelief only grew as you gestured at the screen. "Then how do you know if the actors are even kissing?"

"I've been... taught the concepts," Gabriel said primly, his cheeks flushing with a sudden sense of embarrassment. "But I’ve not personally partaken in such acts, um…"

He was stumped. Here he was, a celestial being that was older than the universe itself, and he just admitted to never having been kissed before. Him. The Archangel fucking Gabriel. Oh, he could just see Crowley cackling over his wine now.

Gabriel wished for nothing else but a rock to crawl under.

You leaned in, and tilted your head to the side, your eyes filling with growing mirth. How you struggled to hide your smirk. And shock. This walking, breathing god of a man had never been kissed before? Unbelievable. You curl up in your chair, your chin resting on your fist. "You’ve never been kissed before?"

Gabriel seemed to shrink into his seat. "Yes," came the barely audible mumble.

Far-flung corner of Alaska indeed. "No girlfriend? Boyfriend? One of each?"

"Neither." Gabriel coughed, and straightened himself, trying to regain some sense of dignity. "Ever."

You take in those too-full lips of his and lick your own. “Would you like to?” You ask, stunned by your own boldness. “To kiss someone I mean?”

“I-” It was his turn to blush. “Yes,” Excitement washed over him, his senses coming alive at the thought of such an experience. To kiss for the first time, to feel for himself what mortals celebrated in poetry was something he no longer wanted to miss out on. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

You go over his admission, and then the time. You still had four hours left with him. Why ever not?

"Come on," you take Gabriel’s hand and stand up. "Let’s get out of here."

He stood up and followed you out onto the aisle, his fingers impulsively lacing around yours, squeezing it gently when he felt your palm tremble against his. "Where are we going?"

"To kiss," You whisper, just enough for only him to hear. "But only if you want to go through with it that is.”

Gabriel knew he may never get another opportunity like this, certainly not with someone like you. And he was told to enjoy himself. "Alright, where do we go?

💫

The cab ride to a nearby hotel was filled with anticipation. The both of you kept stealing glances from each other, then quickly turning away with red-tinged cheeks. At one point, you felt a hand graze your thigh, and a jolt go up your spine.

Gabriel felt it too. Anticipation, and a sudden, not-so-delicate sexual tug arrowing in neatly into his gut when his eyes skimmed over your thighs. His pulse was racing, he felt all hot and feverish and did his best to dampen it. It was just going to be a kiss, he kept telling himself. Nothing more. He looked at you and turned again quickly.

No no no. This wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it. He was an Archangel, for crying out loud. He couldn’t sully his vessel this way.

But was that really true? Couldn’t he let go for just a few hours at least? He was given the freedom to do so after all. Gabriel gulped and loosened his tie. He kept looking out the window, counting the minutes until the cab ride ended and the hotel came into view.

"And here we are," you say as the cab starts to slow down, startling him a little.

Gabriel insisted on paying for the taxi. He insisted on paying for the hotel room, and a sumptuous breakfast in bed for you. "You shouldn’t have to, you know," you said while you waited for the room to be booked. "I could have taken care of it."

"I insist," said Gabriel, pocketing the credit card. "It’s the least I could do."

He took your hand as you led the way to the elevator. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome." Gabriel grinned while the two of you stood on opposite sides of each other.

You cock your head to the side and study him. "So tell me, what will you do when you go back?"

"Go back to work, get cracking on the project again." He actually felt uncomfortable now, at the thought of ending the world.

"You look unsure now."

Gabriel, once certain that ending the world and the other side was the way to go, was now filled with doubts. True, the world was filled with darkness, despair, and misery, but it was also filled with joy and hope, and as he very recently discovered, you. He gulped. "I am," he confessed. "I thought our--" what was that word Crowley used? Oh yes. "Demolition plans were the way to go. And now…"

"Now you think this site deserves another shot at redemption, so to speak?" You said simply, just before the doors opened to the top-floor suite.

"Yes," Gabriel flushed with embarrassment. How quick he was, to pull the trigger on everything. And how oddly grateful he now was, that Aziraphale thought differently. Aziraphale and Crowley, obviously, but the demon would never hear that. If he did, then Gabriel would never hear the end of it. His eyes then went wide at the views that greeted him. "Oh my word," he gasped as he admired the night skyline, the lit-up buildings, and the full moon up in the sky.

You couldn’t hold back your awe either. "My word indeed."

You joined him by the window, the both of you staring out into the night sky like a pair of awe-struck children. "I’m so glad I decided to take this day off," Gabriel mumbled happily.

"I’m glad you decided to take the day off," you said as you gazed into the night sky.

A hand brushed against yours, startling you, and reminding you why you were here. "Right." You look around for the perfect spot. The chairs looked cozy but would grow uncomfortable in a while. The carpeted floor was out. That left only one place. The bed.

Gabriel’s gaze followed yours. A kiss was always perfect in bed. That’s what he had read about, anyway. "Perfect," he said as made his way over. "Jacket and shoes?"

"Off. Same for the socks." You mumbled as you slipped out of your boots and socks. "I'd never been a fan of socks and shoes in bed."

"I’ve heard of that," Gabriel shucked off his jacket, leaving a pair of well-toned arms neatly outlined in a fitted shirt. You gulped when sculpted back muscles flexed under crisp white cotton as he undid his tie. The urge to run your hand down that powerful back grew so strong.

"Do mortals actually like that?" Gabriel went on, oblivious to the effect he was having on you. His shoes were the next to go, as were his socks. "Socks in bed?" He winced. "Very unappealing if you ask me."

"Mhmm.” You hummed when he made himself comfortable, and the bed suddenly looked so tiny in the process. So tall. You didn’t even realize how truly tall Gabriel was still now. He caught the way you were looking and raised an eyebrow. You felt like giving yourself a good smack to the back of your head. "Very unappealing," you said as you join him, sitting on the side of the bed.

And what a comfortable bed it was, even though it was just enough for the two of you and what had been planned to happen. You found your gaze drifting over his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves. Gabriel turned his head and caught you gawking again. You squeak, not knowing where to look. A shy smile tugged at his lips. He shifted and turned to his side. "So," said Gabriel, as butterflies fluttered in his belly. "How do we go about doing this?"

You tap your cheek with a finger. You better start with the basics. "Right." You sit up and encourage him to do the same. "You face me like so," You gulped when your eyes drifted to those lips of his. Oh, to feel those lips on yours. "And close your eyes."

Gabriel closed both, and then abruptly opened one. "And then what?"

"Just close your eyes, silly." You giggled when he shook his head and shut both eyes. "Or you’ll ruin the moment."

You then leaned over and placed your hands over his cheeks, letting your fingers trace over every bump and line. You felt his jaw clench. So strong. So very strong, and so very tense. "Relax," you whisper and lean in. "It’s nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about? Nothing to worry about?!? His first kiss was nothing to worry about. Gabriel was about to open his eyes, to protest, and then the air was knocked right out of his lungs when your lips pressed against his.

Gabriel could barely breathe, he could barely even think. All he could focus on was the softness of your lips, the taste of buttery popcorn still lingering in your mouth. The kiss felt so light and exuberant and left him feeling more than a little dizzy. His hands left his sides to glide up your waist while his mouth opened over yours. Gabriel felt light-headed again, this time when his tongue slipped past your parted lips and dipped into the warmth of your mouth. He felt like he was floating on air. A kiss should have been a mere trifle to a being like him, but there you were, robbing him of every thought, of every breath, just with the softness of your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly when his nose accidentally bumped into yours. Gabriel stopped for a breather, chest heaving, to gather his thoughts. He felt greedy and wanted more. He debated if he should take the initiative and kiss you.

The sight of you all flushed, your pupils all dilated, made up his mind for him. “It’s alright,” you murmured before Gabriel dipped his head and dragged you in for another kiss.

This time it was a kiss that was rough and hungry leaving you breathless and gasping for air. Gabriel felt sure of himself now. Pure instinct was driving him along, and something else. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. It made him want more than just a few kisses. "To hell with it,” he mumbled, his mouth greedy for yours.

It felt like a dam had burst and suddenly Gabriel was all over you. His kisses were demanding, his mouth plundering, taking all you were willing to offer him. His arms circled your waist in a vice-like grip. Your entire body trembled when your name blew through that sinful mouth of his. It felt soft and luscious, and you heard him groan when you answered him in a low purr. Feeling his lips skim over your chin, down your neck to the hollow of your throat made you gasp, especially when teeth gently scraped over your skin. When you reached up and grabbed onto his collar, to pull him closer, he moaned, “c-can I t-touch you?”

Your hands guiding his was too much for him. The softness of your skin beneath his palms turned his bones to water. Gabriel let his hands glide up your waist, let his fingers curl over your trembling belly. When he dragged you in again for another kiss, his fingers hooked around the hem of your sweater. You didn’t wait for him to ask. You simply helped him lift your sweater over your head before tossing it to the side. On the next kiss, you felt his hands reach back, then struggle with the clasp of your bra. “Let me guess,” you smirk and move your own hands to your back, to help him. “You were just taught the concepts?”

Gabriel, red in the face, nodded. “Exactly.”

You chuckle and toss your bra to the side as well. That was when Gabriel took the time to really see you.

Merciful creator, he thought. All his life Gabriel thought the earthly vessel that held his being was to be left without blemish and untouched, and devoid of any mortal influence. But seeing you like that, your lips already bruised, your eyes darkened with lust, well, it made him think that experiencing earthly delights and desecrating his body may not be such terrible things after all. He cupped your cheeks, taking his time to pull you in with a kiss.

This kiss was soft, tender, almost lazy. Gabriel pulled you onto his lap, holding you flush against him, a soft hum rising at the back of his throat. You felt every shaky breath he took, and relished every tingle as his hands went up and down your spine. When those hands cupped your ass, squeezing on soft flesh, you press yourself against him even more.

Gabriel took his time to savour every precious second. His heart raced when you arched into him. His pulse scrambled when you whimpered with each breath you took. More. His body kept screaming More. On impulse, he moved his hands up, to your hair, yanking on it and pulling you back. Warmth spread in his belly as he kissed his way leisurely down your neck, and in a move that surprised you both, he had you under him in a heartbeat.

“Very good,” you giggle, a gasp ripping through you when a cool hand glided over your ribcage.

“Well, I aim to please,” he replied huskily before dipping his head to taste.

Gabriel felt like he was pulled into a tunnel of darkened desire. His lips moved over a nipple, his tongue twirling around the already tender bud. He moaned, deep and throaty, when your legs hooked around his hips, when your fingers raked over his back. He trembled with desire as he moved from one breast to the other, a hand ready to take over what his lips left unattended.

And it still wasn’t enough. Gabriel, hard as ever by now, wanted to experience your body in all its glory. He placed a tentative hand over the waistband of your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours. “Can I?” he asked in a soft breath.

You say “yes,” as you lift your hips. Your body started to throb when warm fingers grazed against your flesh, goosebumps rising over your skin as Gabriel pulled down your leggings and your underwear, leaving you exposed.

He gulped as his eyes raked over your body. “Merciful creator,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

And he was still dressed. That had to be remedied, and quickly. You squealed when a shirt button popped and nearly hit you in the nose, so eager was he to get out of his clothes. His shirt was disposed of, as were the rest of his clothes. Fully naked now, Gabriel towered over you, like a perfectly sculpted statue come to life. You just wanted to reach out, and run a hand over his torso, but he put a stop to all by pushing you back into bed and crushing your lips with his.

Your skin felt so soft to his touch. If he had more time, Gabriel could have worshipped your body, as he rightly believed so. Alas, he didn’t have that time, so he did everything he could to make it count. He caressed your tummy when your arms went around his shoulders, groaning when you hooked your legs around his hips and your slick heat rubbed up against his cock. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked. “We may never see each other again after this.”

Having been pulled into a darkened tunnel of need, you assure him that yes, this is what you want. Gabriel dipped his head and kissed you again, his hand clamping down on yours and pinning it to the mattress. You had to help him, guide him, your entire body trembling at that intrusion. Gabriell’s moan was deep and ragged as his cock pushed deeper, throbbing around your velvety walls. You felt so good, so hot, it took every ounce of willpower he had not to just plunge in. Feeling your walls clench around his cock almost undid him, almost undid you. “You feel so good,” you breathed, biting your lip. “You feel so good inside me.”

That put a smile on his face. Gabriel moved, slowly, hesitantly, trying to get a feel of what kind rhythm you’d like. His thrusts were shallow, gentle, dragging out mewls every time his hips ground into your thighs. “H-harder,” you beg, “You d-don’t have to be gentle.”

Gabriel simply let go, gave into the madness that threatened to consume him. He slammed his hips against you, moaning every time you arched back or whenever your fingers raked down his skin. He dipped his head for a kiss. “I love how you taste,” he breathed. “You could intoxicate a man just by those lips alone.”

Your eyes nearly rolled back when he grew rougher with each thrust. Clinging onto him, your kisses deepening as he rode you relentlessly. Gabriel felt he was reaching the point of no return. He tightened his grip on your hand, caging you against the mattres. The sounds escaping his lips matched yours, the sheer pleasure of his hips slapping against your thighs made him plunge into you like a wild beast. Gabriel surrendered to the void, no longer caring of about if he got into trouble for this, for what he was doing to you. How could any of this be wrong when it all felt so right?

The room seemed to spin like all around you. You could feel your pussy quiver. Your muscles started to tighten, as if readying to snap. “D-don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

Gabriel pressed himself into you, his lips sinking into your neck. He felt the beckoning pull, of a taut cord that was about to snap in two, and then--

And then it felt like your body had splintered. You threw your head back and cried out his name, your entire body shaking violently as you came. You were vaguely aware of Gabriel fucking you while you orgasmed, and when his embraces grew intense, too intense, you quickly regain some control and force him to his knees with you straddling him. Gabriel sputtered in utter confusion. “Wh-what? Did I do somehting wrong?”

You smile as you pull away from him, one hand wrapping neatly around his cock, the other gripping onto his shoulder for support.. “You did nothing wrong, I just prefer this.”

Gabriel moaned, buried his face in the crook of your neck as you pumped his length. The air was peppered with words uttered in a language you didn’t understand, but Gabriel was enjoying himself, you could feel it in the way he thrust his hips everytime you pumped his cock. When he was close you felt it, his cock stiffening, his breath catching, his hand moving above yours, as if to guide you. The bite along your neck went unfelt. You felt more than heard the deep moan, a spurt of warmth pouring over your hands as his body trembled voilently

His chest heaved, and gleamed with the faint sheen of sweat. Gabriel tried to find a sense of equilibrium, then pulled you into his embrace, wanting your lips over his again, before laying you back in bed. The both of you lay there, blissed out and exhausted, content to stay as you were as time slowly ticked by.

There was no talking this time, just blissful silence. You hummed as your fingers traced their way over flawless skin, as if trying commit each bump and line to memory. Gabriel may never come back, you thought, but the memories of tonight would remain sweet and evergreen to you. When he stirred, you curled into him even more, sighing contentedly when his nose brushed against your hair.

Gabriel glanced at the time. Barely an hour left. He stayed with you, not wanting to leave until your eyes closed. You barely heard a whispered goodbye, barely felt the kisses that brushed over your cheek.

When you finally woke up, your entire body aching, there was a beautifully penned note, with a gold feather on top of it. The letter was sincere and heartfelt, and thanked you for everything. You grinned and stretched yourself, loosening the sore cricks in your body, before heading to the bathroom to freshen up for breakfast.

#good omens gabriel #good omens x reader #good omens smut #good omens #the archangel fucking gabriel #writeblr #fanfiction #ineffable angels #gabriel x reader #gabriel smut #one shots

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an-idyllic-novelist · 2 years

Note

Hi, I’m the one who asked for a fluff request yesterday. And, you told me to request on this blog.

would it be possible to request for a fluff ares x reader where he has a massive crush on the reader but he’s too shy to admit it bcs she’s just so perfect and she’s sought after by many gods. Lucky for him, she has a crush on him as well?

And once again, I apologize if it’s too much to ask :)

Hi! I did make a couple of changes to the scenario, but I hope you will like this rendition of Ares with a haganzeuka!fem!reader :)

Special thanks to @radioactivesweet for bouncing off ideas to me and @yellow-snark for being honest with their feedback!

Ares adored Aphrodite. From the moment he set his gaze upon her that fateful day in Mount Olympus, they were fated to be together. Love and War, forever entwined even when their tumultuous relationship had been fractured over and over for centuries, finding comfort in the arms of others. But now…well, Ares was tired. He had long since grown weary of the goddess’ vanity and manipulations, especially the former.

Why would she still get into an argument with Athena, Freya, or any other goddess on who is the most beautiful being in the universe, he had no idea. Had his opinion not been enough? He wooed her with gifts, sang praises of her loveliness and dedicated any victories in his battles to her. And yet it still wasn’t enough for her, who wanted the entire world, nay, the universe to kneel at her feet.

Henceforth, he and Aphrodite were no longer romantically involved. Strangely enough, instead of isolating himself from the Greek pantheon to lament the loss of Aphrodite’s affection, his sorrow was soon forgotten when his armorer [First Name] arrived at the steps of his temple, asking if she may enter. She was here to deliver his spear and the new custom-made gauntlets that Ares ordered to replace his old ones.

As an apprentice who worked in Hephaestus’ workshop, [First Name] was allowed to have the other gods as clients but never to aid him in his projects without explicit permission. Even after all of these centuries, Aphrodite’s husband is still a picky artist.

The war god immediately allowed her to come inside, instructing his guest to leave her offering of plum wine in front of his statue before following him inside further into the temple. The wind chimes attached to her wide brimmed hat created a pleasant ‘ching’ sound as she walked down the marble hallway in her sandaled feet. It made [First Name] less…intimidating.

Her fashion sense wasn’t horrid per se, though she did appear intimidating with the lower half of her face concealed by a bronze mask shaped in the muzzle of a Chinese guardian dog. Her [Hair Color] tresses were either pulled back and tucked under a black handkerchief or let loose because she had been too focused on her craft that she forgot to take care of herself again.

Although Ares had expected the armorer to immediately leave once he was satisfied with his equipment, she stayed with him for a bit longer. She did not talk much; she was more of a listener, and she listened to him talk about Aphrodite, then rant about other things until he saw Apollo’s chariot ride across the blue hazy skies. He apologized profusely for taking up her time, but [First Name] brushed it off with a small smile and said to contact her again if he needed anything else done for him or his men before exiting the temple.

It was after the armorer left that Ares noticed a cluster of pretty stones sitting right next to the offering. He didn’t know why or how…but the war god supposed that was when he began falling for her.

Like everyone else in Olympus.

But this time, he had an advantage over his competition. Ares knew what she liked and disliked, even what day of the week when Hephaestus' workshop was not too busy to drop in for a surprise visit...only to discover that his sweet little armorer had an incredibly short temper as he did.

“HOW DARE YOU LOSE YOUR SWORD, YOU FOOL?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO LOOK FOR THE CAVE THAT POSSESS AN EXTREMELY DURABLE ORE, WHICH MIGHT PREVENT YOUR SWORD FROM BREAKING AFTER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME?! FOUR MONTHS OF SEARCHING, GONE TO WASTE! THAT’S IT! DIE! DIE TEN THOUSAND TIMES AND REFLECT ON YOUR ACTIONS!!” [First Name] roared, [Eye Color] orbs glowing in fury as she chased after the terrified client around the workshop with a cleaving knife, ignoring everything and everyone else around her.

Including him.

Ares sighed softly, glancing down at the bouquet and the bag of sweets he was carrying. Perhaps he should have gotten mitarashi dango instead of cupcakes? She loved sweets, but which one would calm her down long enough for him to profess his desire to court her?

#record of ragnorak #ror ares #snv x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #request #snv ares #haganezuka!reader #hotaru haganezuka demon slayer #my writing #an idyllic novelist

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webslinger-holland · 1 year

Text

The Emperor of Magic | Part 5

Summary: Now trapped inside their worst nightmares, the crows need to find a way out in order to stop the emperor. Thankfully, Kaz is always one step ahead and figures out a solution.

Warning: +18 Warning, verbally and mentally abusive parent, deceased relatives, blood, gore, many mentions of death, working in the menagerie, choking, attempted murder and suicide

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Type: Series

Word Count: 6.8k

Author’s Note: This is the end of the series! I really hoped you enjoyed reading this because I have had this story concept in my drafts for a long time. Let me know your thoughts and have a great week!!!

Series Masterlist

The emperor of magic stood in the center of six fallen bodies. She could feel a single bead of sweat rolling down the side of her temple, uncertain if it was from the blazing hot heat waves or if it was from mental strain. Her eyes remained shut as she struggled to keep the six crows under the veil of darkness.

Normally, it wasn’t hard to get inside someone’s head and drive them towards the point of insanity. But this time was different. She needed to take all six crows down, which was no easy task at hand. It didn’t help that they were all incredibly clever and intelligent; they weren't just dumb witted folk. This made the mental battle all the more challenging for her.

Despite this, the emperor was determined to succeed. She needed to keep them unconscious, forcing them captive within their worst memories and nightmares. With great struggle, the emperor managed to break the chains that bound her. She also was able to get loose from the customized straight jacket that had failed to hinder her powerless. She threw those to the side.

Afterwards, the emperor pulled the bag off her head. She discarded it by tossing into the heap of sand. She removed the final eye covering and ear pieces strapped around her head. She was now finally met with the blinding rays of the sun for the first time in nearly three years.

Wylan’s Nightmare:

As soon as his eyes changed black, Wylan’s body succumbed to a dream-like or comatose state. When he managed to regain consciousness, his eyes began to flutter open and he could see a completely different atmosphere. He quickly sat up upon realizing where he was.

The mansion was known to be one of the most beautifully constructed and decorated house in all of Ketterdam. It belonged to the a well-respected member of the Merchant Council which just so happened to be Jan Van Eck himself.

Naturally, Wylan recognized the house that he had spent his early childhood years in. It all came flooding back into his memory; the marble floors sparkled as they must have been polished to perfection and the high wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling held brilliant chandeliers. The furniture was the most expensive thing on the market at the time. The mansion couldn’t be anything less than perfect.

Now looking down, Wylan saw that he was dressed in one of his old beige suits which now explained why his collar felt so tight around his neck. He went ahead and loosened it immediately. He also realized that his wild hair was tamed and combed down like it always had been when he was a young boy.

In the short distance, Wylan heard a voice talking in the other room. He carefully rose to his feet and made it way over to the door that was slightly cracked open. Peering through the crack, Wylan’s eyes fell on the man he once called ‘father.’ And his breath caught in the back of his throat.

“You stupid, stupid boy.” Jan Van Eck said with a shake of his head.

That familiar pang of guilt shot straight to his heart; he had gotten too squinted with those words in his childhood. His father always shaming him, calling him stupid or worthless. He clutched the frame around the door, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

“You’re a disgrace!”

All of the sudden, Jan Van Eck slammed his hands down and discarded everything that lay on the desk which included books, pens, and papers of the sort. The burst of fury only caused Wylan to flinch something terrible; something else that he still hadn’t grown accustomed to.

“Can’t read, can’t write.” Jan Van Eck scoffed to himself. He gritted his teeth together. “You’re absolutely worthless!”

Without thinking, Wylan burst through the slightly open door in a rage of fury. For once in his life, he was going to tell it straight to his father and he wasn’t going to let him push him around anymore. His fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw was locked.

Upon hearing the door slamming against the wall, Jan Van Eck turned to face his disgrace of a so-called son. He narrowed his eyes at his approaching figure, not expecting much from him anyways.

“You...” Wylan began, but he struggled to find his voice as it was laced with red hot anger. He pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You do not know me,” Wylan claimed with tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“I know you’ll never evolve,” Van Eck spat. “Spent years trying to change you, trying to shape you.”

“I don’t need to be changed!” Wylan yelled back. His face turned beat red in his fit of rage.

“You weren’t enough,” Van Eck said with a shake of the head. “You could have been so much, but you're worthless.”

“We never were the same person,” Wylan seethed. He jammed a finger directly into the man’s chest. “I am not you and I was never going to live up to your name.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Van Eck’s lips shifted into a sinister smile. “Because I’ll still always be there to haunt your nightmares.”

Very slowly, Wylan took a step backwards in his place upon coming to the realization that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of the image of his father in his mind. It will always haunt him and he can’t change that. He suddenly became aware of the situation; that he was living his worst nightmare. And his worst nightmare was being stuck with Jan Van Eck.

Backing away, Wylan wanted nothing more than to leave. He hurried out of the room, charging upstairs to escape to the place where his old bedroom was. He closed the door behind him, twisting the lock in its place. He moved away from the door then. But he didn’t know of the dark figure that stood behind him, watching his every move.

Back in reality, the emperor was left standing and staring directly at Wylan’s limp body in the sand. She studied him carefully. She caught a glimpse of a small tear escaping the corner of his eye and rolling down his cheek.

Jesper’s Memory

When Jesper finally awoke from his unconscious state, he too was most surprised with his surroundings. He shifted into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his neck as if he had a kink in it. He came to realize that he wasn’t in Ketterdam and he wasn't in Ravka either. It almost looked like...

Upon further inspection, Jesper found himself in the middle of a field. He rose to his feet slowly. His long trench coat danced in the breeze. His heart sank in his chest. The memories of his childhood came flooding back into his mind.

These fields were all too familiar to him. Amid the wheat, amid the soft golden ears, moved the unseen wind. The wheels of straw rested on their earthen bed, soaking in the brilliant sunshine. Under the sky that is made all the more pretty for the scattered clouds, the white puffs that radiate white light. It was a simple scene.

His softened gaze fell on the small little house in the short distance. It looked like something from an old photograph; a deep memory that he had almost forgotten. His feet began to carry him to the house. The dark figure followed after him without his knowledge.

Coming to the house, Jesper lifted a hand to pull the colorful blanket away from the doorway. He stepped into the entrance. His hand fell to his side and his heart had never felt more heavy.

It was a small house in the sense that it was all one room. The ground was made of fresh orange dirt and the walls had been lifted by his father at one time. A small stove sat in the corner. And there was a little wooden table for eating. Two beds lay on either side of the room. One of them had an occupant.

“Mama?” Jesper asked just as horrified as the moment he had found her years ago.

His mother always wore the most magnificent colors that made her complexion glow. Her favorite color was yellow in which she was dressed in. She wore these orange and yellow heavy beads around her neck. And her hands rested on her chest. She must have been asleep.

“Mama,” Jesper called again. He felt the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He approached her bedside, dropping to his knees to be at her side.“Mama, wake up. I’m here,” Jesper pleaded.

He took her hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips to press a firm kiss to it. He failed to keep his tears at bay, feeling them now cascading down the sides of his face. He shook her hand gently as if half expecting her to wake up and rid him of this horrid nightmare.

“Mama. Wake up. I need you,” Jesper cried. The dark figure stood looming over him as he was forced to once again grieve the loss of his mother.

Leaving the memory, the emperor of magic shifted her gaze away in order to face her next victim. The heartrender lay motionless in the sand with a hand near the side of her face. She looked so peaceful in the moment, but she knew she was already experiencing the worst thing she could imagine.

Nina’s Nightmare:

The Little Palace had been home for so many years. All the Grisha were sent to live at the palace after they had been tested for powers at a young age. Depending on which order one was classified into, they would be dressed in the appropriate color coordination.

Every room was created by the most beautiful and delicate hand. The hallway floors were made from the finest marble, sparkling in the early morning hours. Grand oil paintings hung on the craved marble walls. The quartz pillars upheld the vast ceilings in the grand staircase.

For some reason, Nina found herself walking through those hallways she used to call home. She felt a little disoriented because, with every turn, the palace just seemed so empty. She’d peek into rooms and poke around a corridor, but still, nobody was in sight.

She called out for others. “Zoya? Alina? Where is everyone?”

When Nina finally approached her old bedroom, she saw that the door was already cracked open and a blood stain painted the once golden knob. She pushed the door open gently, cautiously stepping into the old room. Her breath caught in her throat.

Because what Nina saw was something she hoped she would never have to see. All of the Grisha she had once known and who she had grown up with were laid lifelessly on the floor. Their colored uniforms were burnt, torn, destroyed, and soaked in blood. She couldn’t tell if it was their blood or soemone else’s.

Glancing past the bodies, Nina named every single face she saw. Her heart never felt so heavy and burdened. She choked back a sob because even though she had left the little palace long ago, she still called it home. The Grisha were her people; nothing would ever change that. But now, they all lay dead in front of her.

At one point, Nina’s eyes settled on the still body of her old friend Zoya. She rushed to be at her side, dropping to her knees. Her hands went to hover over her heart with every intention of helping her. But Zoya’s hand came up to clasp her wrist to stop her. Her pained eyes shifted to face the heartrender beside her.

“Y-You,” Zoya grunted through her teeth. She felt blood seeping past her lips. “Y-Y..You left us,” Zoya claimed.

“I-I didn’t want to,” Nina said with a swift shake of the head. “I never wanted to leave you behind.”

“But you did,” Zoya pointed out. “You abandoned us. And for what? A Fjerdan who only murders your people.”

“H-He’s not like that,” Nina insisted. She felt tears streaming down her cheeks. “No, Matthias would never hurt me.”

“It’s because of his people that we are left scarce,” Zoya said. “They came in the night. They slaughtered us.”

This comment made the heartrender glance around once more to see the familiar faces that surrounded her. She saw the red blood that painted so many faces. She felt only one heartbeat in the room besides her own.

“I didn’t know,” Nina claimed.

“No,” Zoya shook her head. “No, you knew. You’ve always known that they hunt people like us. That they kill people like us. You’ve known, but you chose to ignore it.”

“I-I’m so sorry, Zoya.”

“And now, you will have to live with the fact that you got us killed. You let them in and made us vulnerable,” Zoya claimed. “Y-You are the reason the Grisha will be extinct,” Zoya finished.

All of the sudden, Zoya began choking on her own blood. It spilled out of her mouth in waves. Though Nina tried to help her, it was already too late. Her body became relaxed after the coughing came to a halt. Her eyes were glassed over in a haze. And her breathing came to a final halt.

All at once, Nina felt an overwhelming amount of shame and guilt in her heart. She dropped her head down, feeling the tears streaming out of her eyes at a fast rate. She raised a shaky hand to cover her mouth in hopes of muffling her sobs. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to regain composure.

The dark figure that stood behind her took one final glance around the room. It took a single step backwards before choosing to return back to reality. Her eyes fixed on the person laying beside the heartrender.

Matthias’s Nightmare:

For some reason, Matthias thought he was dreaming again. He only thought this because he always saw her in his dreams. His dreams were quite often unsatisfying since he never really knew what he wanted. There were times that he dreamed of finally killing the heartrender that tormented him and then there were times he dreamed about how her lips felt when he kissed her. She was always a mystery to him, which made him realize that he didn’t know what he wanted.

Now Matthias didn’t know where he was or where he was going. He had a feeling that he must have been within Fjerdan territory since there was a blizzard waging around him. He could barely see in front of him from all the snow and wind blasting in his face.

For a moment, Matthias shifted his focus to his footing. He watched himself lift each foot in front of the other, trudging forward through the heaps of snow. That’s when he saw red.

The dark figure had been following him this whole time. She watched carefully for his reaction. The splotch of red in the snow must have been blood. He followed the trail of blood until his eyes fell on a body laying in the snow a couple feet ahead of him. His heart sank.

“Nina!” Matthias called out.

He hurried to her side, basically collapsing beside her in the snow. He was able to pull her body to lay on her backside before taking a look at her wounds. His hands hovered over her lifeless body, unsure of what to do in the moment.

Her face was so pale; her lips were already blue from the cold. Her eyes remained shut since they had been closed long ago. Her hair was frozen from the blood that leaked from her head. In fact, Nina’s body was covered with various wounds. She must have bled out from them.

His eyes fell on a particular wound near the junction of her neck. It honestly looked like some creature had taken a large bite out of her neck, which ultimately caused her to bleed to death. But those bite marks looked all too familiar.

When Matthias lifted his head, there was a grand grey wolf standing in the short distance. It stood calmly as the wind brushed past it’s striking grey and black fur. However, the wolf’s mouth was dripping with the blood of its victim. It was in that moment that Matthias realized wolves might not have been as tame as his people once believed.

“You did this?” Matthias said in utter disbelief. He stared at the wolf blankly. “W-Why? She didn’t do anything. She didn’t deserve to die like this.”

Slowly, Matthias looked back down to the beautifully calm woman in his arms. He held her tightly in fear of letting her go forever. He lowered his head to press it against her own. He rocked back and forth with his love in his arms, crying quietly to himself.

“She was all I had left. She was the only one to love me for who I was,” Matthias sobbed. “She loved me even though she wasn’t supposed to,” Matthias whispered.

All Matthias could do was press a soft kiss to the center of her forehead. He stared off into the distance for he was unable to look at the wolf the same again. He cried for what felt like hours on end and he refused to leave her side.

Inej’s Memory:

The Menagerie was most commonly known as the House of Exotics. This was mainly because the menagerie advertised the exotic beauties of foreign women. They always dressed as specific animals that came from their country or region.

The House of Exotics was almost always filled to the brim with men looking for a good time. They often smoked which filled the house with a thick cloud. There was always heavy liquor seeping from their lips, which made their breath smell awful and their discernment rather thin. The men were able to do whatever they pleased as long as they paid the right price.

During Inej’s time at the Menagerie, she had never felt so low and empty in her life. Now she stood there once again. She wore her old clothes which painted her out to look like a lynx. Her soft brown skin reflexed wonderfully against the brilliant purple silks that hugged her body.

With each step, Inej heard the little bells that wrapped around her ankles. She maneuvered her way through the heavy crowd, passing by drunks and other girls dressed to impress. She didn’t think to question how she got back there or the fact that she was just relieving her worst memory.

When she was there, she felt numb to the rest of the world. And she entirely was right then and there.

For the moment, Inej was leading this half drunk man upstairs to the private rooms. He had already paid her for her time spent with him. She felt the kruge jingling in her pocket. She brought him to one of the rooms, letting him inside before closing the door behind them.

It didn’t take more than five minutes for the man to emerge from the private room, still in the process of buckling his pants back together. He closed the door with a satisfied smirk on his face before heading back downstairs to the bar for another round.

Back in the room, Inej lay on the soft bed in a heap of sheets. Her beautiful purple silks had been discarded on the floor. She stare blankly at the ceiling, feeling entirely numb. She felt a single tear seep out of the corner of her eye.

Her core was filled with a sense of shame. Her legs felt weak as if she already knew she’d have trouble walking. Even her shoulder ached slightly since he had bitten down during their time together. She pulled the sheets to cover her bare body, shivering at the memory engraved into her mind.

For a second, Inej closed her eyes as if to wish she could just disappear into the next life. She hated being there. She hated the things she was forced to undergo. She just wanted to be free. Why couldn’t she be free?

The dark figure that stood by the window was looking directly at the saddened woman laying in bed. She even went to turn away from the scene, because it was too much, even for the emperor herself.

Back in reality, the emperor was truly struggling to keep all six of the crows under their own spell. She only needed to hold off for a little longer because they’d eventually discover that they’ll be stuck. They won’t be able to escape those nightmares. That is, not unless...

Kaz’s Nightmare:

When the black clouds came to settle around him, Kaz Brekker was able to get a sense of his surroundings. He had come face to face with his greatest demon. The familiar eyes of his dear deceased brother were staring right back at him.

Very slowly, Kaz found himself rising to his feet with the help of his cane. He stared at his brother blankly as if he wasn’t at all surprised to see him after all this time. He observed him ever so carefully because one wrong step could be the end for him.

“Hello Kaz,” Jordie said. His lips curved into a mischievous smile.

When Kaz didn’t say anything or do anything in particular, Jordie furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion. He took a single step forward. He raised his hands in defeat.

“What? No hello for your long lost brother?” Jordie questioned.

“I know you are not real,” Kaz claimed. He still wore a blank stare on his face.

“Oh, aren't you the clever one?” Jordie almost mocked him. “Even if you think this isn’t real, you're trapped here with me until your brain starts to rot. You’ll never find the way out,” Jordie laughed.

Kaz’s lips twitched into a wicked smile. “Won’t I?”

Just then, Jordie’s face fell blank. He looked at his younger brother with a hint of confusion behind his eyes. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Whatever do you mean?” Jordie laughed cautiously.

“You made one vital mistake,” Kaz claimed.

Though this time, Kaz wasn’t speaking to the image of his brother. More so, to the dark figure that stood behind him. In a slow manner, Kaz had turned around to face the emperor of magic herself who had been watching the conversation all along. Out of all the crows, Kaz had been the only one clever enough to notice her presence. She was slightly impressed.

“What mistake did I make?” The emperor of magic spoke through slightly gritted teeth. She clenched her fists at her sides to contain her anger because she hated being outsmarted by others.

“You discovered all our names,” Kaz began. He tipped his head to the side. “Through the same memory,” Kaz added.

Now the emperor tried her hardest to keep a straight face, but he could already see the small sense of panic hiding behind her eyes. She shifted from one foot to another in a nervous manner. She held his gaze strictly.

“Which means, all of these nightmares are connected in some way or another.” Kaz noted. He went to look at some of his surroundings, not necessarily recognizing where he was at the moment. “I wonder if they can hear me,” Kaz said mostly to himself.

“Who?” The emperor asked curiously.

“The other crows,” Kaz seethed through his teeth. He lifted his head to look towards the sky once more. “Jesper, Inej, Nina--” Kaz called for his crows loudly.

“You can’t get out,” the emperor said rather hastily. He directed his attention back to her.

Despite this, Jesper heard the message through his own memory. He raised his head and looked into the distance. All of the other crows were able to hear their boss too. Though it sounded more like a distance echo than anything else. They listened carefully to the conversation that followed.

“You're trapped here. You’ll never figure out how to get out,” the emperor claimed. She breathed a nervous laugh to cover up her slight fear.

“You underestimate me,” Kaz spoke. “Another mistake.”

Just then, Kaz took a single stride forward in his place. In a way, it was almost like he was taunting her or challenging her with knowledge of his own. Because if anyone knew something, it was that Kaz Brekker was always one step ahead of the game. He knew this was going to happen all along.

“Let me ask you something: when do you wake up from a dream?” Kaz questioned. He now stood directly in front of her, staring down at her through hooded eyes. “It’s always right before something terrible happens,” Kaz stated plainly.

The emperor couldn’t have predicted his next move. He immediately seized her throat with his glove clothed hand. She breathed a small gasp of shock as his digits began tightening around her neck. She clawed at his hand, desperate for some form of release.

“Sometimes, you get shot at. Sometimes, there is an accident. And sometimes, you fall.” Kaz recalled some of the dreams he once had and the ways he managed to wake up from them. “But you always wake up,” Kaz said while tightening his grip.

“And my guess is that if you die in this dream, you wake up. Is that right?” Kaz wondered. When the emperor said nothing, Kaz went to tighten his grip again. She winced at the contact. “Is that right?” Kaz repeated himself.

“Y-Ye-s-s,” the emperor struggled. “Y-You’ll w-wa-wake u-up.”

In the meantime, the other crows heard the entire conversation between the two of them in the distance. They finally understood what was happening and what they needed to do in order to get out of their nightmares. There was only one solution to waking up.

Without hesitation, Wylan found his old stash of chemicals in the floorboards of his bedroom. He riffled through various glass vials, searching for two in particular. He raised the two glass vials in his hands, seeing the bright colored liquid that they contained. If mixed together, those chemicals would create a deadly explosion. He popped the corks off them.

In the other dream, Jesper had been slow to rise to his feet. He looked down at the body of his deceased mother, still feeling the tears coming out of his eyes. He reluctantly pulled one of his shiny pearly guns out of his holster at his side. He cautiously raised the gun to the side of his head, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for what was to come.

Now Nina was still sitting amongst the bodies of her dearest friends. She contemplated things for a moment, basking in the reality of the situation. She raised her hands in a particular manner, focusing all of her attention on the speed of her own heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Matthias discovered that he was moving towards the wolf that stared directly at him. He forced himself to place one foot in front of the other. He heard the wolf growling in a threatening manner. He knelt into the snow as if ready to accept his fate. He closed his eyes just as the wolf lunged for his throat.

In the menagerie, Inej had climbed to the rooftop of the institution. She peered over the edge, looking to see several stories below her. She climbed onto the ledge, keeping her arms out at her sides for balance. She put one step forward before falling to her death.

Back in his own nightmare, Kaz carried the emperor’s face a little closer to his own. He studied her carefully as if searching for any sense of faulty. He narrowed his eyes at her. He kept his grip firm, despite her desperately grabbing at the lapels of his trench coat. She was begging for release.

“B-Bu--t I’ll be l-long gone by then,” the emperor claimed. Her lips curved upwards into a smile. “Y-You’ll ne-never catch u-up to me.”

“You’re bluffing,” Kaz called it. Her smile fell. “You haven’t left yet. You’re keeping us under as long as you can. And once we are lost, then you’ll make your escape.”

And indeed he did call it.

“Y-You have n-no idea what y-your up a-against,” the emperor struggled to speak. She was quick to send a firm gab into his stomach, which caused him to release his grip on her neck. She ran past him as quickly as she could.

With the nightmares being connected, the emperor was able to open a portal into one of the first nightmares. She jumped through the portal, taking a brief moment to look at the scene in front of her. It was the old mansion.

But the once pristine bedroom was now covered in a thick layer of blackened ash and dust. The soft brown floorboard had been burnt, laced with an unknown chemical burning through the wood itself. The velvet curtains had caught on fire. And the wallpaper had been destroyed beyond repair. Amongst the destroyed scene was the small lifeless body of the demolitions expert.

“No,” the emperor whispered to herself. “He’s gone already.”

Which only meant that Wylan was awake in reality. In haste, the emperor went to open another portal into the next nightmare with every intention of stopping the next crow from waking up. All she was able to find was a limp body laying on the ground. The sharpshooter still held one of his guns in his hand, but a bullet had already entered his skull. He lay there as the blood spilled from the headshot.

The panic began to take over. The emperor dream hopped to the next one through the access of another portal. Amongst the bodies of deceased Grisha was the familiar heartrender. She lay peacefully amongst her own people, having chosen to slow and stop her own heart.

Now the emperor was growing agitated and frustrated. She went to open another portal which led her to the ice cold lands. She squinted through the blizzard storm only to find a wolf feasting on the body of a unmoving druskelle. The wolf raised its head and bared its now blood stained teeth.

Finally, the emperor forced herself to run as fast as she could through the final portal. She hurried to the edge of the building, being quick to peer over the edge. She spotted a motionless body nearly six stories below the building. She had jumped.

The emperor of magic had failed to keep them at bay. They all managed to escape their worst nightmares, which meant that they were all awake and ready to take her on in the real world. She needed to get out of this dream.

“You’ve lost. Admit it,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

When the emperor turned around in her place, Kaz Brekker was looking directly at her. He wore an infamous smirk on his face. He had followed her through every single portal, dream hopping right behind her. This also meant that he had seen each of his crows dead which couldn’t have been easy.

“They are back in reality by now. Getting ready to put a stop to you,” Kaz stated as a matter of fact.

“What about you? You can’t leave unless you die,” the emperor took notice.

“That was never part of the plan,” Kaz claimed. Her face fell. “The plan was to keep you under as long as possible because that is the only way you can be stopped from the outside. You can’t fight me in here and them out there at the same time,” Kaz explained.

Back in the desert, the five crows came to surround the emperor who stood in the center of them. The others turned to face the heartrender amongst them, giving her the signal through the form of a single nod. She raised her hands in a particular motion, slowing the heart rate of the emperor of magic.

In the dream sequence, the emperor grunted at the feeling of her heart being squeezed and slowed down. She clutched at her chest in attempts to stop what she felt. She lifted her head to look directly at the man himself. Realizing that she had been bested, the emperor was quick to turn around in her place and charge towards the edge of the building.

Without hesitation, Kaz followed directly behind her with every intention of stopping her from jumping over the side and waking up from this nightmare. Just as the emperor leaped from the ledge, Kaz grasped onto the emperor’s forearm to stop her.

From the mere pull of gravity, the emperor’s body slammed against the brick wall of the institution. He had been pulled down slightly, but he was still able to keep a firm grasp on her while hanging over the side of the ledge. She fought against his tight grip, trying to get loose so she could fall.

“I won’t let you,” Kaz grunted. He struggled to maintain his hold on her, but he shook his head at her careless behavior. “I can’t let you hurt them.”

“Then you’ll just have to come with me,” the emperor told him. She pushed off the brick wall with both of her feet. She used all of her strength to pull him over the edge of the building.

Together, both bodies began to plummet to the ground from the force of gravity. The two of them stared at one another, sensing that familiar feeling of falling to the ground with no control whatsoever. Just as the two of them would hit the ground, their bodies jolted awake back in reality. And the real challenge began.

It was rather odd. It was almost like the heartrender was holding the heart with her own two hands, forcing the heart rate to slow down. Just as Nina thought the heartbeat would come to a final halt, it was like she felt two hands envelope her own from within the chest.

Those invisible hands holding her own began to pry her fingers off of the heart itself. She eventually realized she didn’t have a grasp on the heart anymore; that it was probably back to its normal self in terms of heart rate. The feeling of those hands covering her own began to close in.

In a split second, Nina let out a terrible scream of pain as her hands got crushed by the ones that kept hers captive. The emperor of magic kept her hands clenched into tight fists as she broke every bone in the heartrender’s hands.

Naturally, Nina ended up dropping to her knees on the ground. She clutched her hands close to her chest for some form of comfort, but she wasn’t able to stop she blood from spewing from the joints in her fingers or the bones from poking out of the back of her hands. She never felt so much pain in her life.

“Nina,” Matthias called out to her.

Though part of him wanted to rush to her side, a bigger part of him wanted nothing more than to stop the emperor once and for all. With a mighty war yell, Matthias charged towards the emperor of magic who kept her back to him. He raised his two fists above his head and brought them barreling down.

But at the last second, the emperor spun around on the heels of her feet to surprise him. She drew her own fist back and sent it directly into the center of his chest. With the force of her magic, Matthias was forced backwards in his place. His body dragged across the desert sands as he felt the wind truly knocked out of his chest. His chest burned painfully.

Now the emperor went to face the other three crows standing amongst her. With Jesper drawing his two guns out of his holsters and Inej wielding her precious knives, Kaz waited to signal them to attack her with his cane. She went to take a step towards them, but was stopped when something hit the side of her head.

A bright pink powder escaped from the small glass vial that hit the side of her head. The powder sparkled in the bright sunbeams that beat down on them. She didn’t even realize that she managed to breathe the powder in, but it began to greatly affect her senses. She turned towards the small person who had through that at her.

In the short distance, Wylan went to grab another vial from his pouch. He hoped to hit her with something to make her sense weaken so it might be easier to take her down. Just as Wylan pulled the vial out, he felt an invisible hand wrap around the expanse of his neck. He was dragged forward by an unforeseen force until his neck made contact with the emperor’s cupped hand.

Without warning, Wylan’s body was slammed to the ground by the emperor. She went to straddle his chest, keeping him pinned to the ground. He grasped at the hands wrapped around his neck, desperately trying to loosen her grip on him. He gasped her air. He felt the life being squeezed out of him.

Before Wylan lost the oxygen in his chest, a gunshot rang through the air. The bullet managed to lodge itself directly into the emperor’s shoulder, which caused her to release her grasp on the boy’s neck. She slumped backwards in her place, reaching up to grasp the wound on her shoulder.

The emperor scurried to stand to her feet with every intention of finishing off these crows. Her vision began to blur and her head felt dizzy. Despite this, the emperor managed to raise her hands to put up a fight.

The three crows worked in a synchronous harmony, taking timed turns to throw different strikes. Now Inej was the first one to step forward with her knives drawn at her sides. She took a couple swipes which the emperor managed to dodge barely. Then Jesper fired a couple rounds from his pearly guns. He manipulated the bullets to fly exactly where he wanted, but the emperor waved her hands to direct the bullets elsewhere. Finally, Kaz went to step up. He raised his cane and swung with all his might. He struck her once or twice, but it wasn’t enough to take her down.

Suddenly, the emperor felt a large arm wrap around her backside which put her into a tight headlock. Her knees were knocked out from behind, forcing her to drop to her knees. Behind her, Matthias tried to maintain a tight grip on the smaller body. He grunted upon feeling her fight against him.

Slowly, Kaz went to approach her. He raised his cane in the air, bringing it towards her face. He stared her down carefully.

“Admit it,” Kaz repeated himself. “You’ve lost. We’ve bested you.”

The emperor choked upon feeling the grip tighten around her neck. “B-But I haven’t lost,” the emperor claimed.

“We’ll kill you,” Jesper explained. He came to stand beside his boss. He raised his guns to point directly at her head. “No hesitation,” Jesper stated firmly.

“And it will be slow,” Inej added. She pressed the edge of her knife against the emperor's check, swiping it away to leave a sharp mark. “And painful,” Inej said.

“You can kill me,” the emperor of magic told them. Her voice grew heavier as if the demon inside her was speaking. “But it will be your mistake because I always come back.”

Before the emperor could say another word, Kaz raised his golden cane above his head and brought it barreling down into her skull. The body ended up collapsing to the ground from the mere force of the swing. He continued to beat in her skull until there was nothing left, but a pool of blood and brain. The blood painted his face in a gruesome manner.

“Kaz!” Inej called out. She had hoped to bring him back to reality. He finally stopped beating the body to death. “It’s done,” Inej claimed.

The crows had gone through so much within the past few days. They had schemed their way back into the court and somehow managed to escape. They ended up having to relive their worst memories and became temporarily trapped in their own nightmares. They needed to escape those nightmares in the form of killing themselves. And they had to defeat the emperor after taking some heavy hits from her. Despite all this, they managed to survive, just like they always did.

But for some reason, Kaz just had a feeling that she’d be back just like she said.

THAT IS THE END OF THE SERIES! PLEASE TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS! SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO POST.

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