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zae-heeyyy · 4 months

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Recalcitrance

Summary: You and Ms. Grimshaw just can't get along. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,763 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur Warnings: camp violence, angry Arthur, suggestive themes

a/n: I have mixed feelings about Grimshaw. I think she's a very enigmatic character. Still, based on interactions I've seen with her, I feel this isn't too far off. These always end up super long for some reason. Idk how that keeps happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

recalcitrance: resistance to authority or guidance, often characterized by defiance or disobedience. It implies a refusal to comply with rules or expectations, despite attempts to persuade or control.

You and Abigail Roberts went way, way back. Working girls stuck to a code; part of that code was looking out for each other and ensuring you returned after one of your "shifts." Abigail ran away for a while, leaving you to assume she'd met a rich man and settled down.

When you met her again, she introduced you to Dutch Van Der Linde and company; you fell in with them shortly after. Since then, you constantly scrubbed blood from clothes, slept on the ground, and ate whatever game Pearson could find for the stew. Many girls you knew would never trade that life for this one, but you had a family to return to, even if they weren't the most conventional. And amidst it all, you'd found something you didn't think possible for you.

You were drawn to Arthur Morgan instantly. The little things spoke volumes for you—how he checked on you in passing, the moments spent playing dominos together, and his overall politeness towards you. The bar was in hell, but he treated you so differently than any man ever had. Arthur's dumb cowboy act didn't fool you for a second, and you were captivated by him.

After one too many inadvertent shoulder grazes and incidental hand touches, the chemistry between you had become undeniable. Following a game of dominos he let you win, the stocky man asked you to take a walk with him. You weren't too far away from camp before you found yourself pressed against a tree by him in a heated kiss. So many thoughts swirled around your head. You were in the middle of nowhere; it was pitch black, and you were being hunted by the law, yet there against that tree was the safest you'd felt in a long time.

Then, on another fateful night, you were alone with him at the campfire while everybody else had settled down. A sly smirk crossed his face, and he scooted closer to you, grabbing and kissing your hand. You giggled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed up your arm, gradually, a low groan escaping him. One thing led to another, and he guided you into his tent. You let him have you, and you, him.

It was then, when you were on the brink of your climax, half-lidded eyes staring upward into his, that you finally understood what people meant by lovemaking. When it was all over, you got up to leave out of habit, but he drew you back into his arms and asked you to stay.

Since then, you've been his girl, and he made sure everybody knew, always kissing you before he left for a job, settling you into his lap at the poker table, or sneaking you away from your chores to spend time with him. You saw each other for what you were, not the labels that had been applied to you. And you loved him so much.

For the first time in a long time, your life was good. Well, mostly, except you hadn't quite mastered the life of navigating Ms. Grimshaw. Over the almost year you'd known her, she was rarely nice to you. She seemed more tame when Arthur was around, but he wasn't today.

By noon, you had gotten sick of hearing her voice, and she seemed more ornery than usual. The nagging was constant: do this, don't do that, do this faster, do this slower. You wished she'd shut the hell up and leave you alone. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you saw her speed-walking towards you.

You were sitting, about to light a cigarette, when she approached, red-faced, huffing, and talking fast, "There you are," she started, putting a finger in your face. "Sitting around like always. I have had it with you!" You stood quickly out of instinct and opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off. "You're useless around here, so why don't you go into town and start selling yourself again. At least then you'd finally be carrying your weight!"

Her words stung like branding, making your heart race and your eyes sting. The few people left at camp had gone quiet. Mary-Beth looked on nervously while Karen was glaring at the older woman. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you spoke faster than your brain could process.

"All you're good for is being an ugly, hateful bitch." As soon as the words left your mouth, she swung on you. It was a backhanded slap that stung and broke the barrier that was holding back your tears. You recoiled, holding your stinging face.

"Know your place, girl, before you end up somewhere worse than on your back. Now get!" She pointed towards the edge of camp.

"Screw you," you said, quickly wiping away a falling tear, "I'd rather fuck every man in town before I keep letting myself be treated like this." You stepped up to her, " Want me to leave? Well, I'm goin."

And you did. You collected what little belongings you had into a bag and charged out of camp, eyes forward and your head held high. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried to stop you, but you marched down the dirt path until they couldn't see you anymore.

"Look what you gone and did you old hag," Karen spat, "Oh, just wait til Mr. Morgan gets back. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then."

Arthur didn't ride in until sunset; he searched for you before even getting off his horse. His face fell confused by your absence, and just as he was about to inquire, Mary-Beth and Tilly approached. He knew instantly that something was wrong.

"What, what is it?" His eyes searched theirs. They looked at each other, silently debating who'd break the news to him. It was Tilly who stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Arthur's arm. She talked low and cautious, "Arthur, she—her and Ms. Grimshaw—they—" She was cut off by Karen and Ms. Grimshaw beelining towards them.

Karen's voice boomed, speech slurred. "Go ahead, tell 'em." She waved her beer-clutching hand between Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw, defiantly meeting Susan's gaze before tearing her eyes away to meet Arthur's. "That wench Grimshaw smacked her across the face and ran her out!"

Clenching his fist involuntarily, he leaned into Karen, talking low and steady. "The hell are you talking 'bout?" His chest was rising and falling quickly now.

Ms. Grimshaw stood resolute and waved him off. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Morgan. This is my camp, and these are my girls and my rules," she finished, arms crossed, staring at Arthur.

Stepping close, he imposed his broad figure on Ms. Grimshaw, flashing a smile that was anything but inviting. He took on a tone he rarely used with the women.

"Oh, Susan, that's where me and you disagree. This may very well be your camp, and you can make up all the rules you want, but she's my girl." His face had straightened into a scowl by the time he finished.

"Well, I'll—" she began incredulously, hands still on her hips, but Arthur threw up a halting finger.

"Look, Ms. Grimshaw, I respect how you run this camp, but that girl, she's off limits. Now, I'm gonna find her and bring her back, and you can raise all the hell you want, but if you lay a finger on her again—"

"Arthur..." Tilly cut in warningly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ending his conversation with Susan. "Where'd she go?" he asked no one and everyone at the same time, speed walking to his horse.

"She took off down the road," Mary-Beth called out, but his horse was already kicking up dirt. Riding as fast as he could, he reached the nearest town at record speed. He hitched the horse outside the train station, forcing the doors open with his shoulder. The place went quiet, everybody focusing on the sudden disturbance. Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, scanning faces for yours. Spotting you took no time, and you stood as soon as you recognized him. He rushed to you, taking your hands in his; concern riddled his face— a rare sight. Guilt washed over you as you looked up into his eyes; you opened your mouth to speak, but he started before you.

"You alright?" he asked, looking you up and down. Dirt had stained the hem of your skirt, and your eyes were tired; his frown grew as he looked you over. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your head to his chest and nodding.

"Wasn't gonna go, just needed to get away for a while," you murmured into his chest. Rubbing your back soothingly, he exhaled with soft, relieved laughter. One arm still around you, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze with his free one.

"Don't you go walking out on us. Least without tellin' me first."

You agreed with a quick bob of your head, and he pulled your chin in towards his, kissing you on the mouth. He withdrew and gestured to the bench you'd risen from earlier; you both sat. Arthur wrapped a big arm around you, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

"That woman hates me," you grumbled with a pout. Arthur squeezed you closer, and a faint grin formed on his lips.

"Nah, she never liked any girl I brought around. Give her more time." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It's all outta love, I think," he concluded. You huffed at that, disbelieving.

"She got a funny way of showing it."

"Sure," he chuckled again. He sat for another minute before gently nudging you off his shoulder. Grabbing your bag and standing, he asked, "So you gonna come back with me?"

You tried to sulk but couldn't when he was standing there waiting patiently with his hand out. You finally relented.

"Fine, but I ain't just gonna take it next time," you declared, taking his hand. A big smile stretched across his face.

"You ain't gotta do nothing you don't wanna. If any of those fools have a problem with it, send 'em to me." You made your way out of the train station, hand in hand. You paused, gazing at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur Morgan." Another chuckle built up in him as he threw your bag on the horse. He turned to kiss the top of your head before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up on the horse.

"I know, darlin'."

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 photography #rdr2 community #read dead redemption 2 photography #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fluff #zaefic #amje

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cyberesc · 1 month

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THE BOY IS MINE. (PART 2)

pairing: Prohero!Bakugo x Prohero!Reader

rating: slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader needs a break tbh

note: I forgot where I was originally going with this story when I wrote this a few years ago since part 2 was only 70% done in my drafts, hope this was a good read ! it was fun writing dialogue for Hitomi, might bring her back for a new series🤐

part 1

You don't know when it happened, but somehow, your very existence seemed to aggravate Hitomi, for reasons you couldn’t understand. Your coworkers noticed it, even your assistant made a passing comment, but they urged you not to take it personally. Still, the cold stares, the subtle digs, and the way she tried to one-up you at every turn, it all started to wear on you. What you didn’t know was that her attitude stemmed from the time she spent in one-on-one training sessions with Bakugo.

The list of things Bakugo is good at is so long it would be stupid to write about, so it was obvious that he would be the perfect mentor. His sharp eyes caught every mistake, his feedback was brutally honest, and his results were undeniable. Hitomi knew this and respected him for it. But there was something else that ate away at her during those sessions, something that made her resentment towards you grow stronger with each passing day.

It started with the small comments Bakugo would make, things he probably didn’t even realize he was saying out loud. “Y/N always nails this move on the first try,” he muttered once, when Hitomi fumbled during a drill. Or, “You’re gripping too tight—Y/N knows how to balance strength with control.” At first, Hitomi tried to brush it off, telling herself that Bakugo was just using you as an example to push her to do better, after all you were in the top rankings of Japan for a reason. But the more it happened, the more it grated on her. It wasn't just that you were good—it was that you seemed to be the benchmark against which she was measured.

The worst part, the part that truly made her snap, came during a routine training session. Hitomi was testing the mobility of her suit after some recent upgrades, moving through the drills with the precision she had honed under Bakugo’s guidance. He observed her as usual, his sharp eyes catching every nuance, every mistake.

But then, as she finished a complex maneuver, he made a comment that made her blood run cold. “You’ve got the power, but you’re hesitating,” Bakugo remarked, his tone almost distracted. “They would’ve read that shift in a heartbeat, made the move smoother.” he continued under his breath.

He didn’t even look at her when he said it. The reference was subtle, but Hitomi knew exactly who he meant. He talked about you enough for her to pick up on the unspoken comparison.

It wasn’t just that he compared her to you; it was that, in his mind, you were the standard she could never reach. The unattainable.

In that moment, it solidified for Hitomi: no matter how hard she trained, no matter how perfectly she executed every move, she would always be second to you in his eyes. His words echoed in her head, taunting her, and she knew then that she wasn’t just competing with a fellow hero. She was battling against the idealized version of you that Bakugo seemed to hold onto, an impossible shadow she could never escape.

It wasn’t rare for Dynamight to be paired with lower-ranking heroes on missions or patrols, but you happened to be his frequent partner. You weren’t sure if it was because your quirks worked well together or because you could read each other in any situation. Little did you know, Bakugo’s unconscious behavior around you was something even his assistant had picked up on. He didn’t lose his temper as easily when you were around, and on the rare occasions he did, it was never directed at you. He even made subtle nods at reporters before blasting off with you by his side. Almost every mission you collaborated on ended successfully, a fact that wasn’t lost on the agency.

Hitomi had noticed, too. She watched the way Bakugo seemed more grounded when you were around, how he sometimes deferred to your judgment without argument, and how he never seemed to mind your presence. That’s what made her resentment so sharp—it was one thing to compete with you in training, but another thing entirely to see that you were already a fixture in the life of the hero she admired—the man she wanted.

Your first mistake, if you could even call it that, was during a debriefing session. Hitomi had suggested a strategy, one that was sound but flawed in a way only experience could detect. You pointed it out, offering a correction in a calm, professional manner. It wasn’t meant to be demeaning, but to Hitomi, it felt like a public embarrassment. And Bakugo, instead of defending her, nodded in agreement with you, reinforcing the gap between her and you in his mind.

Another time, in the break room, she overheard a conversation where Bakugo was praising your tactical instincts. He never did that for anyone else, not even her—the one he had personally trained to analyze and fight just like him. She had been mentored by the best, molded to think and act with the same precision and intensity that Bakugo himself embodied. So, it came as a shock when she realized that everything she did, using everything she had learned from him, wasn’t good enough to hold his attention.

From then on, every interaction with you became a painful reminder that you held a place in Bakugo’s life that she couldn’t touch. So, she decided to carve out her own space, to prove that she could be the one who stood by his side.

The tension between you two only grew, feeding off these moments until it became a palpable force within the agency. And as much as you tried to stay above it, to focus on your work and ignore the subtle hostility, it was impossible not to notice. The whispers of office gossip, the way Hitomi would shoot you a look whenever Bakugo acknowledged you in a meeting—it all added up, and it all pointed to the truth you were too kind to see: Hitomi wasn’t just competing with you. She wanted to take everything you had, including Bakugo.

Hitomi’s resentment towards you was not something she could easily suppress. It wasn’t just about competition; it was personal. And when she realized that Bakugo saw you as a benchmark she could never reach, it drove her to desperate measures. If she couldn’t directly compete with you on the field, she would try to outmaneuver you in the court of public opinion.

So she set up a rumor to shift the narrative. It began subtly, with carefully orchestrated moments designed to seed the idea in the media. She made sure to be seen with Bakugo frequently, arranging coincidental encounters that were just intimate enough to spark curiosity. It was all carefully planned to catch the eye of the paparazzi.

The crucial moment came when Hitomi arranged for an image to be captured. A staged photo, one that would make it look like she and Bakugo were involved in a romantic relationship. The key was using a lookalike, someone who bore a striking resemblance to Bakugo, someone subtle enough to create a convincing illusion without risking his actual reputation.

The resulting photo, taken from a distance, showed Bakugo— or allegedly Bakugo—with his arm around Hitomi’s shoulders.

She meticulously chose the location of Bakugo’s favorite konbini, a spot he frequented to fuel up between patrols. This particular konbini was a well-kept secret among a few close friends and had become a sort of personal refuge for him. By selecting this location, Hitomi aimed to make a statement—a pointed message aimed directly at you.

The magazine’s social media team spread the image far and wide, igniting a storm of speculation and gossip. Fans and media alike began buzzing about the potential romance, analyzing every interaction between Bakugo and Hitomi for signs of affection. The craze was relentless, and soon, it became a trending topic. Headlines everywhere echoed the same speculation, and Hitomi basked in the growing buzz.

It was a clever ploy. With Bakugo’s name and your connection to him constantly in the limelight, it created a smokescreen that obscured the truth and shifted public perception. By the time you and Bakugo were confronted with the rumor, it had already gained enough traction to cause serious damage. Hitomi had successfully planted the seeds of doubt, making it seem like she was the one who had captured Bakugo’s attention.

Hitomi’s actions were not just about rivalry. She was trying to erase your presence and position herself as the ideal partner, hoping that by winning over those around Bakugo and creating a convincing narrative, she could finally gain what she felt she deserved.

Hitomi’s plan was working, and you were now caught in the crossfire of a fight you hadn’t even realized you were part of. And that’s where it all began to unravel.

After your checkup at the agency’s infirmary, the reality of your situation set in. The injury was severe enough that your boss decided to put you on desk duty until you were fully recovered. It was frustrating, but you had little choice but to comply.

Today, you found yourself seated at your desk, sifting through paperwork and mission reports. The mundane tasks offered a welcome distraction from your physical pain, but it did little to quell the storm of emotions that raged within you.

The agency’s hallways bustled with activity, heroes and sidekicks moving about in their usual hurried fashion. You were doing your best to stay out of everyone’s way, trying to blend into the background. You were engrossed in organizing a stack of reports when there was a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you called, not looking up.

“Hey, Y/N!” The cheery, singsong voice of Hitomi reached your ears, and you tensed. You had hoped to avoid any direct communication with her, but it seemed luck wasn’t on your side today.

You looked up slowly, forcing a neutral expression onto your face as she approached you with a case file under one arm and a newspaper clutched in her hand. Her gaze flicked over to you with an expression that was anything but friendly.

“How can I help you?,” you said curtly, not in the mood for small talk.

“I thought you might want to see this,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. She tossed the newspaper onto your desk and placed the case file beside it.

Looking down, your heart sank as you read the newspaper’s headline: “ANOTHER HERO BITES THE DUST! PRO HERO Y/H/N CAN’T HANDLE THE HEAT!” The article was filled with damning criticisms and snide remarks, painting you in a poor light due to your mess up.

Hitomi smirked as she noticed your reaction. “You know how it is. The media loves to stir up drama. Thought you’d appreciate the heads-up.” She gave you a patronizing wave and turned to leave.

The moment she was gone, you let out a heavy sigh, grabbing the newspaper and crumpling it in your hands. With a grimace, you tossed it into the trash can, trying to ignore the sting of humiliation that the article left behind.

It had been a week since the billboard incident, and despite your best efforts to avoid Bakugo, it was inevitable that you would cross paths eventually. You had spent those days focusing on your hero work, throwing yourself into your duties with an intensity that left you exhausted by the end of each day. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the heavy weight in your chest.

Boring days of recovery were soon over. The bandages were finally coming off, and you were able to inspect your hero suit in preparation for your first patrol since the incident. The repairs were almost complete, and you hoped that getting back to work would help distract you from the recent turmoil.

As you were adjusting your suit in the testing room, you heard the door swing open. Hitomi walked in with her repaired support gear, her humming coming to a halt at the sight of you.

“Hey Y/N!” She greeted

You nodded in greeting, quickly attaching the support items to your suit to avoid a conversation.

She didn’t seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm. “I saw you around the other day but didn’t get a chance to chat. You’ve been working hard, haven’t you?” Her tone was laced with false sweetness, and you could sense the underlying hostility.

“Paperwork kept me busy,” you replied, adjusting the straps to your suit . You really didn’t want to have this conversation.

Her smile widened, as she took a step closer. “Well, you know how it is around here. There’s always something to keep us busy,” she said, her tone light. “I guess it’s why they say people like us need someone who understands the grind, right? Someone who gets how demanding this work can be.”

You felt a subtle tension in her words, but you weren’t sure where she was going with this. “Yeah, it’s a tough job.”

Hitomi’s eyes flickered with a hint of something more as she leaned in slightly. “Exactly. That’s why it’s so important to have someone who can keep up, someone who’s… on the same level. Makes things easier, don’t you think?”

There was an undercurrent to her words that you couldn’t ignore, but you weren’t ready to engage with it. “I suppose,” you replied cautiously.

She tilted her head, her smile never wavering. “Like Bakugo, for instance. He really needs someone who understands him, someone who’s in sync with him. It’s funny how the media picks up on these things.”

Your chest tightened, the implication of her words hitting you like a ton of bricks. “The media?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Oh, you know how they are,” she said with a casual shrug. “Always speculating about who’s with who, who’s spending time together… Sometimes they’re not too far off, though.” She chuckled softly, but there was a sharp edge to the sound. “But I guess that’s just part of being in the spotlight.”

You raised a brow at her words as she continued.

“You know—people talk. They notice who spends time together, who seems… close. But anyway, it’s a shame you’ve been avoiding Bakugo. But I guess it’s for the best.”

Realizing what she was insinuating, you could feel the tension building in your chest. “What are you getting at, Hitomi?”

She maintained that infuriatingly casual tone. “Oh, nothing specific. Just making an observation. But…let’s be real, Y/N. You were never really in the running, were you?”

You bit down on your tongue, recalling the lessons from your time as a sidekick at Endeavor's agency. Back then, you were trained to handle criticism and bounce back quickly. Being a hero meant facing harsh judgment from reporters and the press, and you had learned to develop a thick skin. You’d been through the wringer as a rookie, chewed up and spit out, and had come out stronger for it. Hitomi wasn’t the first to try and get under your skin, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your resolve was solid, and you weren’t about to let her words shake you now.

Seeing that you had no reaction, she pressed on, her tone turning more aggressive. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re even still around here. I mean, after that slip-up the other night, it’s a miracle you didn’t get yourself killed. Maybe you should stick to the sidelines and let the real heroes do the work.”

Something inside you snapped. The pain and frustration that had been building up for days suddenly burst free, and you opened your mouth to retort—but before you could say a word, a familiar voice cut through the air, sharp and angry.

“What the hell did you just say?”

You both turned to see Bakugo standing a few feet away, his crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at the sidekick. His presence was like a storm cloud rolling in, the atmosphere around him crackling with barely contained fury.

The sidekick’s confident demeanor faltered, her eyes widening in surprise and a hint of fear. “D-Dynamight! I was just—”

“You were just what?” Bakugo interrupted, stepping closer. “Talking shit to Y/H/N? Your superior?”

She stammered, clearly panicking. “I-I wasn’t… I didn’t mean—”

Bakugo’s expression darkened, his voice low and deadly calm. “You should know better than to run your mouth about things you don’t understand.”

The sidekick’s eyes darted between you and Bakugo, realizing she was in serious trouble. “But—”

Bakugo spoke over her, his patience completely gone. “You’ve got some nerve, talking like you know a damn thing about me or Y/N.”

You were frozen in place, watching the scene unfold in disbelief. Even after avoiding him for so long and keeping your distance, Bakugo was defending you—unrelentingly—and it was clear that he wasn’t going to let Hitomi off the hook.

“You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass since you got here. Cause of what? All the delusional crap you read in a magazine? That ends now.”

The sidekick paled. “I’m sorry, Dynamight, I didn’t mean—”

“Save it. Now get the hell out of here.” he growled, not giving her a chance to finish.

You could hear when her heart broke, she glanced at you one last time, a look you read that you’ve won. Without another word, she bolted from the room, her confidence completely shattered. The moment she was gone, Bakugo turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

You stared at him, still reeling from what had just happened. “Bakugo, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his tone gentler than before. “Don’t apologize for her being a damn idiot.”

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” you said quietly. “I just… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

You looked down at your feet, your voice barely above a whisper. “About the rumors… I thought it was true.”

Bakugo let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Of course you did. Those vultures love to stir up shit for clicks. None of it was true. I’m not dating her—or anyone.”

You felt lighter from his words but quickly pushed down the hope that tried to rise in your chest. “But why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” he muttered, looking almost sheepish. “I told you before, I wasn’t interested in dating. And I figured you’d know I wouldn’t get involved in that kind of crap.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of relief and lingering hurt. “I… I didn’t want to assume anything. And after what I saw… I guess I thought I had misread everything between us.”

Bakugo’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. “You didn’t misread anything. I know what I said before—But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, dumbass.”

The warmth of his hand on your shoulder, the sincerity in his eyes—it was too much. Your resolve crumbled, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I thought you were just stringing me along.”

Bakugo’s heart ached at the sight of your tears, and without hesitation, he gently pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “’m sorry… I can be a total idiot sometimes, but I’d never screw with you on purpose.”

He rested his chin on your head. “So, don’t let that bullshit get to you.”

You buried your face in his chest, letting yourself relax into his embrace. “I missed you,” you mumbled into his hero suit, the words escaping before you could stop them.

He let out a soft huff, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you close. The sound of his heart skipping a beat was unmistakable. “Missed you too, idiot. We’ll figure this out, okay? Just… don’t shut me out again.”

You nodded against his chest, feeling the weight that had been pressing down on you finally start to lift. “Okay.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “Look, I’m not great at this, but… I want to try. With you.”

Your breath hitched, hope flaring back to life in your chest. “Really?”

Bakugo nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. We can take it slow, figure things out…but I’m not letting you walk away.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Katsuki.”

He smiled, his dimples appearing at the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

You leaned into him, feeling the last remnants of doubt melt away. As he pulled back, you felt his breath against your skin. His eyes flickered down to your lips, with an unspoken question hung in the air. Without overthinking it, you leaned up on your toes, closing the small distance between you.

Bakugo hesitated for the briefest of moments, then closed the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that was tender. Everything he couldn’t say with words was poured into that kiss—every frustration, every ounce of care, every unresolved feeling that had been simmering between you for so long.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned into the kiss, the warmth of his embrace grounding you. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you might slip away. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in that moment.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. His eyes were still half-lidded, a faint blush coloring his cheeks—a rare sight for him.

“Damn idiot,” he muttered softly, his voice laced with affection. “Should’ve kissed me sooner.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. “Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move.”

He huffed, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time, then.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you in for another kiss, this one deeper, more confident—like he was staking his claim. And you kissed him back with equal fervor, knowing that, this time, you weren’t going to let anything or anyone come between you.

When you finally broke apart, you stayed in his arms, content and more at ease than you had felt in weeks. The uncertainty that had plagued you was gone. And for now, that was more than enough.

want more of my writing? I have a poll up on my account to choose my next fic

tag list: @berryvioo @poemzcheng @bri-licious08 @hypernovaxx @dragonscribble @adultseatdinonuggets4dinner

#mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugo x reader #mha x reader angst #bnha x gn!reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x gender neutral reader #bakugo x reader angst #mha x reader hurt comfort #bakugo x reader hurt comfort #cyber.writes

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plussizeficchick · 1 year

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Okay so I think as an alpha, it’s hard to get Tamaki angry, but once he does, he goes feral.

Like normally, he has exceptional control over his instincts. He’s not as territorial as others, but there is one thing that can send him into a frenzy.

And that was someone threatening his claim.

You almost felt bad for the poor excuse of an alpha that tried his luck with you. But you’d warned him. You’d been polite, informing him you weren’t interested and were already claimed, but he insisted, was certain he could be a better alpha than the one that would dare let you out of his sight.

You figured since he wasn’t taking a hint that your best bet would be to be direct, harsh even, but it seemed bruising his ego only seemed to stoke his flame.

He didn’t seem to notice your scent changing, the smell of frankincense overpowering your usual scent of lilies and patchouli. And he definitely didn’t notice your alpha stalking over to you guys, too focused on trying to get you home with him.

The alpha doesn’t realize what’s happened until he feels the warm gush of blood running from his nose and the harsh pavement under the palm of his hands. He reaches up to assess the damage before letting out a hiss at the searing pain that shoots to his face.

Yep, definitely broken.

He grits his teeth and looks up at the fucker that dared to hit him, but isn’t prepared to come face to face with Pro Hero Suneater.

“What the fuck, do you think you’re doing to my mate?” Tamaki grits out, eyes lit with hatred for the alpha in front of him. Normally, he’s a talker. He hates when situations escalate to violence, but this guy knew what he was doing, your claiming mark clear as day.

“Hey man, I-I didn’t know-” He tries to stammer but Tamaki is quick to shut that down. “But you did, I heard her say it. Multiple times.” He blankly stares at the guy before hauling him up by his collar. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to leave with the shred of dignity you have left, and if I find that you’re harassing omegas again, you’re going to be left with more than a fucked face. Do I make myself clear?” The man’s head nearly flies off the way he nods in affirmation and Tamaki drops him where he stands.

He’s immediately on you, checking you to ensure there’s not a scratch on you before he guides you out of the park.

— —

You’re aware of how Tamaki gets after a huge display of dominance. He’s still pumped up on adrenaline and needs a way to release the frustration before becoming a recluse.

It's one of the rare times in which he loses complete composure.

As soon as you’re both through the threshold he’s hoisting you up, your thick thighs wrapping around his waist to pull him further into you.

He’s mouthing at your neck, tongue laving over your claiming mark before he kisses his way to your lips, licking into your mouth. You moan against him, his clothed cock pressing against your cunt through your panties. You feel slick pool between your legs, soaking the fabric. “Please, Tama.” You whine. He offers you a bit of relief when he reaches a hand down and rips your underwear off. “Don’t worry bunny, I’ve got you.” He murmurs into your mouth. He can hardly wait, opting to just haphazardly pull down his sweats and boxers. He jerks himself off really quick, moaning at the feeling before pushing into you.

You both groan at the feeling, Tamaki trying to quell his whimpers by gnawing at your claiming mark. You whimper as he bites the sensitive skin, cunt clenching around him.

You jerk in his arms, your orgasm already fast approaching even though it feels he’s just getting started. “Fuck, bunny. So wet f’me. Am I making you feel good?” He murmurs, big indigo eyes looking up at you. Even through spats of dominance, glimpses of your Tamaki shine through. You nod at his words, tears beginning to build in your lash line, “Yeah, gonna cum f’ you, Tama. Gonna-” The words escape you as your orgasm washes over you, mouth open in a silent scream. He works you through it, reaching a hand down to rub your clit and nibbling around your claiming mark. He slowly pulls out, easing you down as you relax. He pulls his hand from you before putting his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of your combined flavor.

“You always taste so good for me, bunny.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You look up at him with a dopey smile before you feel what seems like suction cups on your thighs. You look to see Tamaki’s fingers have turned into tentacles before looking back at him.

“Mind if I have more?”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

#x chubby reader #chubby reader #tamaki x chubby reader #tamaki x reader #bnha x chubby reader #bnha x black reader #x black reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #x reader #anime x black!reader #bnha x reader #anime x chubby reader #x plus size reader #plus size reader #anime x reader #tamaki amajiki x chubby reader

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randomshyperson · 1 year

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Shy Girls - Wanda Maximoff Kintober [Blurb] #04

Summary: A study session takes an interesting turn when you accidentally pull your girlfriend's hair.

Warnings: (+18), Bottom!Wanda, hair pulling, new kink discovery, dry humping, dirty talking, implied established relationship | Words: 505

A/N-> Today's heartfelt message is for the plagiarists who are vying for the spot of my thirteenth reason: Every time you steal an artist's work, rarely does something happen, but it still hurts, so just stop. But good reading for those who won't plagiarize people who spent time creating for other people's entertainment - all for free.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It began as a typical make-out session.

Wanda and her innocent flirtations, you with distracted touches that made her warm and tingly.

The history book fell off your lap, and in the empty space, Wanda pressed herself into your hips. She loved the position as much as she loved your arms around her, holding her in place as your mouths moved together.

Wanda tried to press you against the sofa, but you remembered the glass of iced coffee was still in the corner by the cushion, and intending to break the kiss to warn her, you gently tugged on the grip you had on the hair at the nape of her neck.

The sound that escaped her throat was sinful - something between a whimper and a dirty moan, which took you by surprise. Wanda opened her eyes in the same second, her face scarlet.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" She gasped in embarrassment, but you tugged again, taking the opportunity to lower your mouth down her stretched neck and any rational line left her mind. She grew limp in your lap, and the third tug drew another whimper.

You had to break into an aroused chuckle. "How come we've never tried this before?" You whisper, sounding more like a rhetorical question from the state of the girl on your lap, her eyes ajar, her hips restless and her breathing shortened. She looked so ruined already, and you hadn't even done anything yet. “You’ve been hiding things from me. What else do you like, princess?” You kiss her rosy cheeks, and Wanda evades your gaze. Her shyness amuses you. "What's wrong, baby? Don't go shy on me now. Not when you eat me out so good-

She interrupted your teasing with a high-pitched squeak protest, ending your speech with a heated kiss. You grunted in delight, taking control with ease. Wanda grew impatient again, and this time, you grabbed her thighs to fit her on top, her center directly against your tensed muscle. She broke the kiss with a whimper but you pulled her back to lick every corner of her mouth until she melted against you, unable to do anything but grind herself dumbly into your thigh, desperate for relief.

You took advantage of her state to kiss her skin, until you reached her ear and played with the lobe between your teeth. "Pretty girl... don't ever hide from me. I'll do anything you want..." The knot on her belly explodes with no warning, and Wanda is cumming so hard that she has to bite down on your shoulder to muffle her scream before falling limp against you, her body twitching softly. Her ruined, completely drenched panties rubbing your skin are nearly driving you to insanity.

You think she needs a moment, but Wanda, after wrapping her arms around your neck, adjusts herself to whisper in your ear:

"Please, babe." She starts, slowly catching the right rhythm of her soft movements into your lap. "Can I... sit on your face?"

A sigh escapes your lips at the very thought. "That can be arranged." It's your last warning before you lift her onto your lap, intending to take her to the bedroom where she'll be more comfortable. She giggles shyly into your shoulder, her legs wrapped tightly around you the whole way.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #kinktober 2023

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hiitsm · 4 months

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Heartfelt Moments

Your girlfriend helps you completing a milestone in your heart operation recovery process

Pure Fluff

"Okay, mi vida, are you ready for this? It's totally fine if you're not; we can head back home," Alexia says, her brow furrowing with concern, which makes you chuckle softly.

You reach out, smoothing the worry lines on her forehead. "I am ready, amor, and I'm so glad to be doing this with you," you assure her, smiling softly. She responds by leaning in and gently pressing her lips to yours.

"Okay then, let's keep a slow pace. We'll start with a half-field run, okay?" Alexia suggests, her voice still tinged with a hint of worry.

"Yes, mi amor, that’s perfect," you agree. Although you received clearance to run a few weeks ago, you hadn't felt quite ready until today. Now, with Alexia by your side, you feel prepared to take this step.

Alexia had brought you to the FC Barcelona training grounds, not only because she knew the way there as the FC Barcelona Femení captain but also because she was aware of the abundance of sports physios available to assist you if needed.

Despite your assurance that you could manage a run in the park, your stubborn girlfriend wouldn't hear of it. And secretly, you loved her concern.

"Are you feeling okay, amor? Is your condition acting up? Do you need a break?" Alexia asks, her worry evident, as you reach the 100-meter mark.

You were born with dextrocardia, a condition where your heart is on the right side instead of the left. For years, it hadn't caused any complications beyond the unusual placement of your heart. Yes, maybe you are out of breath a little before other people would be, but you haven’t really had a negative experience with it. However, nearly a year ago, you began experiencing complications: cyanotic heart disease.

"Amor, please don’t worry too much. I'm feeling alright. This pace feels nice," you reassure her, offering a smile to ease her concerns. Alexia returns the smile softly, squeezing your hand lightly before resuming your usual running position.

"You know, running with you always brings back memories of the first time I saw you," Alexia says with a cheeky grin, causing you to playfully roll your eyes at her.

Alexia had been strolling around the park, a routine she followed most evenings, a ritual that helped her unwind before attempting to sleep—though sleep rarely came easily to her. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of upcoming football training sessions, matches, and how she could inspire young girls to pursue their dreams, regardless of their backgrounds.

As you round the corner into the park, your lungs tighten, and your breathing quickens—a familiar sensation that prompts you to slow down to a walking pace. Running has always been your escape, a way to quiet your mind, but your dextrocardia often leaves you breathless sooner than you'd like. Despite the warm Barcelona sun, you wear a running tank top and shorts, embracing the comfortable attire.

As you noticed a beautiful woman walking out of the park, you attempted to control your breathing. But before you could, she spoke up. "Are you alright? Do you need some water? The bottle is still unopened," Alexia offered kindly, her eyes flickering over your face and down your body, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks as you realized she was checking you out.

"That would be nice, thank you," you replied softly, accepting Alexia's bottle of water and taking a few sips.

"Do you come here often?" she asked curiously, her question more for her own benefit than anything else, as Alexia secretly hoped to see you again. But she kept that to herself, of course.

"Yes, this is my usual running route. Some days are better than others," you admitted, feeling your cheeks flush even redder as you noticed Alexia glancing at your sweaty shorts.

"That's fine, we all have those days," she replied with a cheeky grin, a stark contrast to her earlier shyness. Her playful response elicited a chuckle from you, and you found yourself drawn to her presence.

"You know, you were kind of stalking me a little," you teased Alexia as the two of you finished your first half-field run, now resting for a couple of minutes before tackling another round. Sitting on the grass, the warm embrace of the Barcelona sun kissed your skin, and Alexia rested her head on your shoulder.

"It wasn’t stalking, amor. I was just at the park when you happened to be there," she defended herself, determined to make her point. "Besides, I just liked seeing you," she quickly added, a hint of shyness in her voice that made you smile.

Tilting your head slightly to look at her, you echoed her words, "Do you still like seeing me?" You loved how Alexia wasn't the most eloquent with words, but her actions spoke volumes, and it was utterly adorable.

"Of course, mi vida. I always like seeing you... no, wait,.. love seeing you," she corrected herself with a soft kiss, her lips lingering against yours. Then, with a mischievous grin, she continued, "Especially when you’re beautifully lying on our bed, with your legs spread, while being naked." Her cheeky comment made your cheeks flush crimson, and you playfully swatted her hand away as she traced her finger across your shoulder, ending up over your right breast.

"That was awful," you laughed and Alexia joined in, her laughter infectious.

"Do you remember when I first saw you naked though?" Alexia raised her eyebrows teasingly.

"Of course, amor, how could I forget? I was in a rush," you replied with a chuckle, recalling the amusing yet memorable encounter.

"Bebita, I love what you're wearing, but maybe it's a bit too much?" your girlfriend sounded a little insecure as she voiced her concern. You sensed she was trying not to hurt your feelings, but her words only left you feeling confused.

"What, why? I'm meeting your mother and sister for the first time," you replied, gesturing for Alexia to enter your small apartment. It was compact, with the bed, kitchen, dining area, and living space all crammed into one room, along with a tiny bathroom. Alexia had been here before but still seemed bewildered by its size.

"It's just a home-cooked dinner at my mother's house, amor," Alexia said, pulling you close to her. "Even though I love this red cocktail dress you're wearing, you don't have to. It's just dinner. I bet Alba is even wearing her sweats, like usual, just like me," she added softly. "I'm sorry if it was my fault for this dress code you've got on."

"No, mi vida, it's all on me. I just want to make a good first impression," you sighed heavily.

"You'll make a great impression just by being you, amor," Alexia assured you, leaning in to kiss you, and soon the two of you were getting carried away. But reality quickly snapped back as you realized the time.

"Oh, we're going to be late," you exclaimed, feeling the stress mounting. "Amor, please pull the zipper down," you instructed, turning your back to Alexia. She did as you asked. Instead of heading to the bathroom to change, you surprised her by all but tearing your dress off, standing there fully naked. Alexia stood still, trying to process the sudden turn of events.

"I'm sorry, amor. I know this is chaotic, but this is as fast as I can go, and we'll do this properly another day," you half-yelled hinting to your nudeness, rifling through your closet for the right clothes for a simple home-cooked dinner. Comfy clothes were what you were after. Alexia chuckled, finding the situation so typical of you.

"Amor, you weren't wearing anything under your dress?" she asked, baffled yet smug, her eyes drinking in the sight of you completely nude for the first time. Your scar from a heart operation in your youth was visible on your right side, a few lines marking where your heart was misplaced, slightly blue due to the lack of oxygen. Alexia found it mesmerizing. You were so beautiful.

"Lines of bras and panties are ugly, Ale, you know that," you huffed, snapping her out of her trance, hastily putting on undergarments and slipping into pants and a sweater.

When you were finally ready and grabbed Alexia's hand to leave, she pulled you back, cupping your face gently in her hands and kissing you lovingly. "You are beautiful, amor," her gaze soft and full of love. You blushed, realizing her words weren't just about the clothes you wore now. "I'm sorry for the chaos," you apologized, a little embarrassed.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she replied sofly, pulling you towards the door, ready to face the evening together. It made you smile brightly.

"Let's take it easier now, okay amor?" Alexia's voice was tinged with concern as she observed your labored breathing and slowing pace. She knew you well—knew that you were usually one to push your limits. But ever since your surgery for cyanotic heart disease six months ago, those limits had inevitably shifted. Since then, she'd taken it upon herself to care for you more attentively, watching over you as you both navigated this new chapter. She understood your eagerness to return to running, yet she also recognized the challenges it entailed.

You remembered how, when Alexia had torn her ACL during football training and underwent surgery, the road to recovery was arduous. Having you by her side had been her solace, her strength. She knew well that recovering from a heavy heart surgery wasn't comparable to an ACL repair, but the principle remained the same—a solid support system was invaluable, and that was what she intended to be for you.

"Let's sit down on the grass over there, under that shade?" you suggested, pointing towards a welcoming patch of coolness.

"Yes, amor, I'll be right there," Alexia replied, quickly sprinting towards the FC Barcelona facility to fetch a fresh, cold bottle of water for you. She returned in less than a minute, her efficiency bringing a smile to your face. "Here, please drink," she said, gently brushing a stray hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. You took a sip, immediately tasting your favorite electrolyte flavor—a thoughtful touch that warmed your heart.

"Thank you, bebita," you murmured, taking her hand and pulling her down to lie beside you on the grass. "Thank you for being here," you added softly, your eyes closed in contentment as you spoke. Alexia squeezed your hand in response. "Of course, amor, I will always be by your side," she assured you, her words reinforcing the bond you shared and evoking a cherished memory, fresh yet profound.

You layed in the hospital bed, the sterile white of the room blurring into a haze of nerves as the time for your operation approached. This wasn't your first heart surgery; the last one had been years ago when you were still a teenager. Now, as an adult, the decision to undergo another procedure felt heavier, tinged with a fear you hadn't anticipated. Alexia had been your rock, discussing the pros and cons with you until you both agreed that the surgery was necessary for a better future together. Despite her own aversion to hospitals, a remnant of painful memories associated with her father, Alexia stood by your side, her presence a silent vow of unwavering support.

Noticing the nervous pacing beside your bed, you couldn’t help but feel moved by her loyalty. Your eyes welled up with tears, which Alexia caught instantly, rushing over. “Are you okay, bebita? Do you need anything?” she asked gently.

Shaking your head, you reached out and gently pulled her arm, a silent invitation. “Can you please lay your head on my shoulder, Ale?” you requested, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, bebita,” Alexia responded without hesitation, knowing how much comfort her closeness brought you. She nestled beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, grounding you with the familiar warmth of her presence.

“Okay, I’m just going in the operation room, I will be put to sleep, I will wake up, and I will see you,” you whispered, repeating the mantra a few times to steel your nerves. Each repetition made you feel a tad more ready.

“I will be here, amor,” Alexia murmured back, her hand gripping yours, her thumb soothingly caressing the back of your hand. “Te amo mucho, mi vida” she whispered, sealing her words with a gentle kiss.

When the doctors arrived to take you to the operating room, a deep sense of gratitude towards Alexia filled you, easing the tendrils of fear as anesthesia drew you into darkness.

Hours later, you awakened to the sight of Alexia's concerned face. “Hola, mi vida. How are you feeling?” she asked, squeezing your hand with a loving gaze.

“Just a bit tired, but happy to see you,” you whispered back, relief flooding through you as she relayed the doctor's positive report on the surgery.

''I'm glad that you're here with me, my sweet bebita,'' your girlfriend said softly. Tears welled in her eyes, and you reached up to tenderly wipe them away. Waiting till you got back from your surgery must've taken a toll on your girlfriend.

“And I’m glad that you’re here with me, my sweet Ale,” you said, voice thick with emotion. Hearing your words, she smiled softly.

That smile reminded you of another, more mundane need.

“Ale, please, can you grab me my favorite food?” you asked with puppy dog eyes. Alexia’s laughter rang out warmly in the quiet room.

“Of course, bebita, but you can only eat after another three hours,” she said apologetically.

You grunted in mock frustration, your hangryness palpable, but the shared laughter was like another layer of medicine, healing in its own right.

As you walked through the door of your shared home, a surprising sight greeted you—fresh flowers beautifully arranged on the kitchen counter. Puzzlement crossed your mind. You and Alexia had left together this morning; when could she have...?

Before you could process any further, Alexia's voice chimed in, bubbling with excitement. "I brought you some flowers, bebita, because you just ran a full football field today, and that milestone should be celebrated!" Her words caught you off guard, turning you around to face her with a look of awe.

"I love you, Ale, so much," you managed, your voice thick with emotion. The words barely scratched the surface of your gratitude and affection. Over the past few months, Alexia's gestures of love had continuously touched your heart deeply.

Laughing softly, Alexia added, "I love you too. That’s why I've also ordered your favorite sushi. It’s on its way." Her grin was infectious, prompting a playful eye roll from you.

"It’s also your favorite sushi, Ale," you reminded her with a smile, feeling the shared joy of the moment.

"Your win is my win, bebita," Alexia teased, her eyes twinkling as she took your hand and led you toward the couch. With a gentle pull, she guided you to straddle her lap, enveloping you in the comfort of her embrace.

"Estic tan orgullós de tu," Alexia whispered in her mother tongue, her words sending a thrill through you. The intimacy of her voice and the warmth of her body drew a sigh of relief from you. In her arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of safety—a confirmation of all the reasons you loved her so deeply.

I hope you all liked this one.

I'm trying a few writing styles so this might not be perfect, but when will writing ever be perfect?

Have a nice evening x keep it kind :)

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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halfmoonaria · 7 months

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testify

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: you expose cairo to the truth she's been trying to escape from.

words: 1.1k

warnings: language & parental issues

"Cairo, What the fuck are you doing?"

Your voice was cold, sharp, and if it wasn't for Cairos focus on the pen moving in her notebook, she would've been startled. Your voice had never sounded so, angry.

Although Cairo couldn't help but let the rage within her continue to simmer and bubble.

"I'm completing my admissions essay." She stated simply, trying not to direct the anger towards you.

However, you had rage raising within you as well, and you had no plan on trying to control it. Her ignorance and lack of empathy was starting to piss you off, and you knew that she was aware of that.

"Don't act foolish Cairo." You spit, walking closer towards her ginormous bed, getting a closer look on the cigarette in her hand; a habit she had picked up to impress your current English teacher. "It doesn't suit you."

She didn't dare to look up, not until you brought up his name. "What are you doing to Mr. Miller?"

Cairo looked up at the mention of the teacher, and it was at that you noticed the trails of mascara stains under her eyes.

Her gaze didn't look regretful, it looked full of a burning desire for revenge.

"I'm testifying against him, infront of the school board." She stated simply, putting the notebook and pencil beside her to sit up, her legs hanging from the bedside.

"Why?" Your voice came out way more questioning than you had planned on. But you weren't stupid, you knew why Cairo was doing this, you had heard the full story from Winnie, and parts of it from Cairo herself.

Cairo was known by her friends to be vengeful, she always held a grudge towards people when she didn't get her way, like now. She didn't successfully seduce Mr. Miller, so now she's trying to fire him.

"He underestimated me. I overestimated him." She stood to her feet, slowly walking alongside the bed, like she was scared of you. Although you knew she wasn't, Cairo wasn't scared of anything; even when she should've been.

Her way of showing she had more power than the other person, had always been slowly walking towards them, deep eye contact with the person who she was trying to intimidate.

It never seemed to work with you.

"You're gonna ruin his life." You spoke, voice hard enough to shatter glass, the sentence and the harsh tone in your voice made Cairo stop, her jaw clenching. "And for what?"

Your voice came out as a whisper, but you didn't pay it any mind, since it seemed to make Cairo realize her mistakes. Which was extremely rare for her.

Cairo felt judged. She had never felt that particular type of feeling before, in fact, she never felt anything when people would scold her, nothing but the need for revenge.

Your eyes were looking at Cairo like she was depraved, twisted. Like she was disgusting to look at, she had never cared when anyone else did that. It was different with you tho. It felt like a sharp pain in the chest.

"To avenge your rejection?" Cairo looked back at you as you spoke, your voice basically echoing in her ears. "To punish him? Because he didn't want to fuck you?" You spit out.

"He wanted to fuck me, Y/n." She was quick to reply. Cairo had always been quick-witted, coming up with clever and snarky remarks before the sentence had the chance to be finished, but this time her words sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

You raised your eyebrows, snorting with laughter at her quick remark, "Sure."

Cairo almost felt frightened when your figure began taking slow steps towards her. She didn't know why she was suddenly feeling so intimidated and afraid by you, was it the look in your eyes? Or the fact that Cairo knew how wise you could be with your words?

"But he didn't leave his wife for you."

The sentence made Cairos face drop, her proud smirk fell as quickly as it appeared, her lips were now quivering instead, a new layer of tears beginning to coat her irises.

She breathed in deeply, chest slowly rising, trying to contain herself from letting the tears fall freely.

"And you know why that is, Cairo?" You moved even further towards her, now standing close enough for her to hear you take a breath before continuing. "Because he loves her."

You spoke slowly, like Cairo was a child that couldn't understand what was said if it wasn't in the right pace. Cairo hated being treated like a child.

"He didn't love you." She wanted to speak, reply with words, something. However her mouth didn't dare to move, was it because you were right? She couldn't bring herself to think that was an actually option.

"He just liked that you gave him the attention his wife isn't."

Cairo no longer cared if you were correct, she was now trying her absolute hardest to not give in, to not let your echoing voice take over her head. It was difficult, to say the least.

"But you thought he loved you, right? Because he showed you the least bit of attention, and you felt lonely.." The fact that you didn't stutter once while speaking, made Cairo feel scared.

She had never seen this side of you.

"Or maybe you felt like his daughter?" You tilted your head slightly, watching as her jaw clenched.

"Did you crave the love from an older man because you haven't experienced it from your father?"

"Stop." Cairos voice was shaky, something she was surprised by hearing herself, her voice had never been shaky, not even when crying as a kid.

You smirked proudly, just like she had been doing just minutes before, which you had quickly wiped of just within seconds of talking.

"Go ahead and testify against him. But think twice about if it's really worth it." Your voice was hushed now, but still just as hard and sharp as it had been the first time you opened her mouth, she could feel your breath onto her cheeks, and she didn't doubt you could hear her quickly beating heart.

And at that, you turned on your heel, your hair basically hitting Cairo in the face on the way there. You left the room, leaving Cairo alone in the haunted bedroom.

The tears were now flowing down her face. Cairo had never cried because of something another individual had said before, let alone cried over something you did in general. But now she was, and it was embarrassing.

You were right.

#jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x reader

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onlinesuzie · 17 days

Text

‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⟡ ݁₊ .

words: 4k ⭑.ᐟ

‘infidelity, hamzah smut, f!reader’

feeling distant from your long-distance boyfriend, jake, you turn to his close friend, hamzah, for comfort.

based of this clip

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖♡˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, staring at Jake’s message: “Can’t talk tonight. Work’s crazy. Miss you, though.” The words feel hollow, a pattern that’s become all too familiar. It’s the third time this week he’s canceled. The hope you’d been holding onto fizzles out. With a heavy sigh, you toss the phone onto the bed, the sound barely registering as it bounces off the pillow.

You stand and walk cautiously toward the mirror, your footsteps soft on the carpet, as if afraid to disturb the quiet. As you reach the mirror, your eyes meet your own reflection, but it doesn’t feel like you. It’s almost like you’re staring at someone else—an older, future version of yourself, worn down by disappointments like this.

Your hand rises instinctively, running through your hair in a familiar, comforting gesture. But this time, it doesn’t help. Your lip begins to tremble, betraying the storm of emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried. You bite down on the corner of it, trying to regain control, but it’s no use. The quivering only intensifies.

And then you see it—her. The version of you that you’ve been trying to ignore. Her face—your face—scrunches up, eyes brimming with tears you’ve been holding back for too long. The feelings you’ve been shoving down, the doubts, the loneliness, all come rushing to the surface.

For a brief moment, it’s like you’re watching someone else, but then it sinks in—she’s not some stranger. She’s you. This is who you are now. This is the you that you've been trying not to acknowledge, and suddenly, there's no escaping it.

A year ago, you would have never imagined feeling this distant from Jake. Back then, everything was easy—casual dates, late-night talks, and plans that didn’t involve long stretches of silence or missed phone calls.

When he first got the job offer in another city, you were nothing but supportive—proud, even. It was a huge opportunity, a chance for him to grow, and you both believed you could make long-distance work. In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. He made an effort, calling regularly and visiting whenever he could. You could still feel the connection, the excitement in his voice when he talked about his new life.

But as the months passed, things started to shift. His job began to consume more of his time and energy, and slowly, the calls became less frequent. The visits, fewer. Little by little, the relationship stopped being about staying close and became more about pretending you still were. The connection that once felt so strong started to feel more like an echo of something you used to have, fading with each passing day.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, snapping you out of the haze you’ve been lost in for who knows how long. You sigh, dragging yourself up from the bed and making your way to the door, not really in the mood for company but too curious to ignore it. When you open the door, Hamzah is standing there, leaning casually against the frame. In one hand, he’s holding a six-pack of your favorite drinks, the kind you only treat yourself to on rare occasions. In the other, his phone dangles loosely from his fingers, like he’s just texted someone and barely cares for a response.

His eyes meet yours, and that familiar, laid-back smile spreads across his face, effortless as always—like he’s walked into a room full of sunshine and not the quiet mess of your evening. There’s something comforting about the way he stands there, completely unfazed, as if he’s somehow known exactly when to show up, without being asked. For a moment, you forget the weight on your shoulders, caught up in the ease he carries with him.

“Thought you might need some company,” he says, stepping inside as if he’s been here a hundred times before. You smile, grateful for the distraction, and motion for him to follow you into the living room.

Hamzah and you have always existed in a quiet ease, a comfort that came naturally. As Jake’s closest friend, he’s been there from the very beginning, like a constant thread woven through your life. Over time, your friendship grew, effortless and warm, a steady presence you could rely on. But recently, something has shifted, subtle yet undeniable.

The space between you feels different now—heavier. You catch yourself watching him, eyes lingering just a moment too long, your breath catching in your throat before you force yourself to look away. His laughter, once part of the background noise, now pulls you in, and you find yourself laughing with him a little too easily, a little too hard, as if his words have suddenly gained new weight.

It’s in the silences, in the moments where nothing is said but everything is felt, that you notice it most—the quiet pull between you. It hums softly, growing stronger with each glance, each accidental touch. And though you try to push it aside, pretend it’s nothing, the truth sits quietly in the back of your mind: something between you has changed, something deeper, something that wasn’t there before.

You hand Hamzah a drink and settle beside him on the couch, the cushion sinking under your weight. The familiar ease of his presence wraps around you, comforting and safe.

The first few sips of your drink go down easily, the alcohol warming you from the inside, softening the edges of the day. For a while, conversation flows like it always does—effortless and light. You talk about work, the lives of mutual friends, stories from your past that spill out without much thought. It’s the kind of chatter that fills the spaces between you without demanding anything more, but with each passing moment, the tension in your chest begins to unravel, loosening its grip.

Your laughter, once cautious, comes more freely now, bubbling up between sips. You can feel the weight of the evening lifting, his presence anchoring you.

“So, what’s going on with Jake?” Hamzah asks eventually, his voice gentle but curious. He doesn’t push; he never does. That’s part of what makes him so easy to talk to.

You hesitate, unsure of how much to share. “He’s… busy. Work’s just been taking up all his time. I don’t even remember the last time we had a proper conversation,” you admit, your voice dropping. You look down at your drink, swirling it around in the can, avoiding Hamzah’s eyes.

He nods, listening closely, his eyes steady on yours as you speak. He doesn’t interrupt, his silence offering you space to pour out your thoughts without feeling pressured. It’s the kind of silence that feels intentional, like he’s holding the moment open just for you. “He’ll come around,” Hamzah says after a moment, though his tone is more hopeful than certain. There’s a pause before he adds, “But… you seem pretty distant yourself lately.”

You glance at him, surprised by his observation. “I guess I just… I don’t know. It’s hard to keep pretending everything’s fine when it doesn’t feel that way.”

The conversation shifts after that—lighter topics, old memories, shared jokes—and for a little while, you forget about your worries. Hamzah’s laughter is contagious, the way it always is, and every time you laugh, you find yourself leaning a little closer to him, your hand occasionally brushing against his arm as you gesture or fidget.

At one point, after an especially funny story, you’re both doubled over with laughter, your hand instinctively reaching for his arm to steady yourself. Your fingertips linger there just a little too long, resting against the warmth of his skin. You feel the heat of the contact pulse through you, and when you realize how long your hand has been there, you start to pull it away, but Hamzah doesn’t move. If anything, his arm tenses slightly under your touch.

You glance up at him, catching his eye. For a split second, you think about pulling away, about creating some distance between you. But you don’t. You stay there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

Another drink later, and the distance between you has all but disappeared. Hamzah leans back into the couch, turning slightly so he’s facing you, his knee brushing against yours. You feel the light pressure of his leg against yours and the buzz of alcohol making your head just a little light. You try to focus on the conversation, but all you can think about is how close he is—how close his hand is to yours, how you can feel his eyes on you, the tension thickening between you with every second of silence.

And then it happens— that disappearing moment when laughter gently fades, and the room falls into a gentle hush. The air shifts, the warmth of shared jokes now a distant memory. You turn to Hamzah, and your eyes meet his, catching him in a gaze that holds an unspoken truth. His smile has disappeared, replaced by an expression so intense it feels almost sacred, as if it taps into something beyond the everyday, something only the heavens might grasp.

In his eyes, you see a silent understanding, a raw vulnerability that makes you feel seen in a way you’ve rarely experienced. The space between you grows distant, the silence now a living thing, pulsating with the weight of what’s unspoken. The laughter that once filled the room seems like a distant echo, leaving behind a poignant stillness that amplifies the closeness between you. Each second stretches into eternity, and you find yourself enveloped in this heavenly feeling.

The tension, the feeling—it’s like something’s been building between you for weeks, maybe months, and now it’s come to a head.

You clear your throat, trying to shake the feeling. “I should probably head to bed soon,” you say, though part of you doesn’t want the night to end. Part of you doesn’t want this moment to end.

Hamzah hesitates, his gaze still locked on you, then nods slowly. “Yeah, it’s getting late.” But neither of you moves. The silence stretches on, thick and tense, and you realize just how close he’s sitting next to you. Too close.

Before you can stop yourself, the words escape. “Do you ever think…” you start, but the sentence dissolves, leaving the thought unfinished. You struggle to find the right way to complete it. Do you ever think about me the way I’ve been thinking about you?

Hamzah turns to face you completely, his eyes locked onto yours with a searching intensity. “Think about what?” he asks softly. Yet, in the depths of his gaze, you sense he already knows where your thoughts were leading, as if the question has been hovering in the space between you all along.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words don’t come. Instead, you swallow it down, hoping only you can taste the tension burning in your throat.

But Hamzah leans in, moving slowly as if to give you every chance to pull back. His approach is cautious, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might want him to stop. He pauses, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin, his gaze darting between your eyes and your lips, weighing whether to close the distance or hold off.

You feel an almost magnetic pull, an irresistible urge that makes it impossible to move away. The closer he gets, the more intense your own desire becomes, pushing aside any doubts. You want this—more than you should, more than feels reasonable.

His lips brush against yours, a whisper of warmth, hesitant and gentle, as if he's waiting for you to retreat. But instead, you lean in, and the kiss deepens, a cascade of heat unfurling through you. His hand glides to your face, his fingers cradling your jaw with a scorching touch.

The kiss grows richer, more intense, each movement burning with a feeling that makes the room feel as though it's closing in around you. The intensity of his touch, the urgency of his lips, meld together to create a symphony of feeling-an outpouring of passion. Every lingering second becomes an expression of all that has been silently yearned for, flowing freely.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and whisper, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Hamzah's eyes are dark, You've never seen them that way before. He hesitates for a moment, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, and then he confesses, "I know we shouldn't... but fuck, I want you so bad."

His words penetrate through your fears, the last the walls of doubt crumbling. You know you should stop. You know this isn't right. But the way he looks right now, his dark eyes almost whispering and pleading for you. His tan skin decorated with a thin sheen of sweat. These feelings. They are too strong to ignore, now all you can think is how much you want him. How good he would feel above of you.

Hamzah's lips are soft and warm against yours, and as they touch again, a rush of heat floods through you. Everything else-the distance with Jake, the guilt, the confusion-fades into the background. His hand moves to the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline, while his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer. It feels like he's been holding back as much as you have, and now, in this moment, neither of you can resist.

Your heart races, your skin tingling everywhere he touches you. It feels like your body has come alive, like you've been craving this closeness for so long without realizing just how much you needed it.

Breaking away for air, you leaned your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. "Hamzah, I need you. Fuck… I think I’ve always needed you" you whispered, your voice hoarse. Hamzah's hands traveled down your body, tracing the curves of your waist before resting on your hips, pulling you closer.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are," he murmured against your lips. "I've been dreaming of touching you, of feeling every inch of your skin." His words darting through your body, and you couldn't help but compare this moment to your experiences with Jake, your boyfriend. You'd never felt this desired, this wanted, not even in the early days of your relationship.

Hamzah's hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your back with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his hands against your bare skin made you instinctively arch into his touch, a shiver of pleasure dancing through you.

"I want to make you feel good, so good that you forget about him” he murmured, his voice a low promise as his breath fanned over your neck, sending a trail of heat across your skin. His lips followed, planting a trail of kisses down your throat. When his lips reached the delicate spot where your neck meets your shoulder, he pressed gently, sucking with a tender, deliberate intensity. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you gasped, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as if anchoring yourself against the wave of pleasure. The room seemed to shrink around you, leaving only the intimate space where his touch and your response melted in perfect harmony.

Guiding you backwards, Hamzah led you towards the bedroom, his kisses trailing down your body as he went. He knelt before you, his fingers softly unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your bra covered breasts, taking it off. "You're breathtaking, Jake doesn’t deserve you" he whispered, looking at you through his eyelashes, as he gently cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them harden against the cool air.

You let out a soft moan, feeling a rush of pleasure between your thighs as Hamzah's mouth claimed one nipple, his tongue swirling and sucking gently. His hands traveled down, tugging at your pants, sliding them down your legs until you stood before him in just your underwear.

His gaze lingered on you with as if he were beholding something otherworldly. Every curve and contour of your body seemed to draw his attention like a work of art displayed in a hallowed temple. His eyes traced your form gracefully. Each glance was a silent prayer, each sigh an acknowledgment of the divine grace he saw in you. In his eyes, you were not just flesh and bone, but a living embodiment of something ethereal.

"Lie down," he instructed, his voice blending urgency with tenderness. You complied, your heart abusing your ribcage with its intensity as you watched him remove his clothes. Each movement was purposeful, revealing a physique crafted with an artist's precision. His chest glistened with sweat under the soft light.

He joined you on the bed, his body’s warmth contrasting with the cool sheets. His hands, free from the confines of fabric, reached out with a gentle touch. Fingers traced the curve of your thighs with a gentle grace, as if mapping an uncharted secret world. Slowly, deliberately, he spread your legs. His touch, firm and tender. Each caress, each shift of position, forced a sound to push its way out of your lungs.

"I want to taste you," he whispered, his hot breath spilling over you. "I want to make you come with my mouth." With that, he lowered his head, his tongue tracing your slit through the cotton. You whimpered, feeling the damp fabric against your sensitive clit, and then he pulled the fabric aside, exposing you.

Hamzah's tongue descended into your wetness, rough and insistent. He licked and tasted everything that was softly spilling out of you, his lips sucking gently on your swollen clit. You squirmed beneath him, your hands tangling in his curly hair, pushing him in deeper. He moaned against you, the vibrations forcing your legs to shake.

"Oh God, Hamzah," you cried out, your hips bucking against his mouth. He continued to feast on your pussy, his tongue flicking and probing, discovering every inch of you. You were so close, so close to reaching a rush of ecstasy, when he suddenly stopped, leaving you gasping and desperate.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice quivering.

"I want you to come with my cock inside you," he growled, his deep eyes blazing with desire. He rose looking down at you with an insatiable need. His attention was almost primal. Positioned over you with an assertive dominance, he seem consumed by an urgent hunger. There’s an unsettling edge—an impatient urgency that brushes aside any sense of gratitude. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your entrance. You feel him against your clit, your body responding with uneven gasps of air. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, stretching and filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.

Hamzah began to move, his hips snapping forward as he set a relentless pace. He plunged into you again and again, his cock hitting far deep within you, stretching you far beyond what you thought was possible. You cried out, your body on fire, every nerve alight with euphoria.

"You feel so fucking good," he exhaled forcefully, his voice shaking slightly. "So fucking good..."

His words echoing in your head as you met his thrusts, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper. You felt that rush of pleasure in your belly, tighter and more intense than you'd ever experienced.

"I'm close," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Oh God, Hamzah, I'm so close..."

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles as he pounded into you. The combination of sensations pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name as your orgasm erupted through you. You clenched around his cock, draining him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

Hamzah groaned, his body stiffening as he exhausted himself deep within you. He collapsed onto your heaving chest, his breath warm against your sensitive nipples. You lay there, entangled in each other's arms, your hearts racing and your bodies glistening with sweat.

The room is quiet now, the air thick with the weight of everything that just happened. You lie beside Hamzah, the warmth of his body still lingering on your skin, your mind spinning in a thousand directions at once. The adrenaline from earlier has faded, replaced by a strange sense of calm, like the world has paused for a moment to let you catch your breath. But even in the silence, the reality of what you’ve done echoes heavy between you.

Hamzah lies on his back, one arm wrapped protectively around you, drawing you close against his chest. His other hand moves with a gentle, absent-minded rhythm, tracing soothing circles on your bare shoulder. The room feels almost too still, the darkness pressing in with an oppressive quietness, and in this silence, your thoughts begin to churn once more.

You shift slightly, resting your head against his chest, finding reassurance in the steady, reassuring cadence of his breathing. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speaks, both caught in the reflective pause. As the minutes stretch into an uneasy quiet, the weight of reality—the consequences of what has happened—begins to press in, casting long shadows over the fleeting warmth and intimacy you once felt.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. The weight of the situation presses down on you—Jake, your relationship, what this means for everything.

Hamzah tightens his grip around you. He tilts his head down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips linger there for a moment before he whispers, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

His voice is soothing, but it’s not enough to stop the growing anxiety building inside you. How can you not worry? Everything has changed now. You didn’t just cross a line—you shattered it. And as much as you want to stay in this moment, wrapped up in Hamzah’s warmth, you can’t ignore the reality that waits outside this room.

But for now, you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace, trying to quiet the noise in your head. You close your eyes, trying to let yourself believe, if only for a few more minutes, that everything will be okay.

And then your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

The sound cuts through the quiet room like a blade, pulling you back to the present. You freeze, your heart in your throat as you reach for the phone, dreading what you might see on the screen.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, and your breath catches in your throat when you see Jake’s name flash across the screen.

“I’m outside. Can we talk?”

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖☆˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

notes: i’m quite proud of this fic and i hope you guys love it!! comment any suggestions for what you liked and i’ll make a note of it!! :]

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah x reader #slushy virus #hamzah x y/n #domhamzah

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imamuzansimp-oldblog-seoseoya · 6 months

Note

Hi, may I make a hc request on the uppermoons + Muzan reacting to their human s/o getting her period and BAD cramps & how they would comfort her (if they’d even do it lmao😭) yk.. since blood = food, but they still love their s/o

Uppermoons + Muzan reacting to Fem!S/O with bad period cramps

content warnings: fluff, suggestive, manga spoilers, periods, mentions of blood and cramps, cuddles

word count: ~700

a/n: eeeeeeee!!!!! my first proper request! i’m so excited! i hope you don’t mind i only did the first three uppermoons + muzan for now, but i’ll come back to the others another time.

a/n 2: this is a tad bit rushed since i wrote this right before going to sleep

Muzan

okay but he lowkey has no clue what’s happening

even though he’s had multiple wives in the past, he was never really there. thus, he had no clue what to do

at first he just kinda stood there like 🕴️

but then he realized he should probably do something so he asked you what you needed

“my dear, what do you require?” he’d say. “it hurts…” you whine. your period had recently started and the cramps hurt like hell. “what hurts, did someone bring harm to you? whoever did shall die where they stand!” and you momentarily panic because nobody had hurt you. “no! zannie, nobody hurt me! don’t worry! it’s just my period!” you yelped, worried for the poor soul that narrowly might’ve escaped muzan’s wrath. “your…. period?” it’s rare that muzan appears bewildered, so this is a sight. “yea… basically for about a week every month, women have their periods. basically, it’s a time where we bleed out of our vagina and unfortunately it comes with way. too. many. cramps. there’s also other things like cravings and mood swings.” you explained. you noticed muzan started to get a hungry look in his eye. he had thought he’d smelled blood, but knowing it was from you and not because you were injured, he was resisting the urge to devour it that instant. “are you currently in pain due to cramps?” he asked, ever so politely. you nodded, it hurt like nothing else. “heat usually helps…” you muttered. muzan began to approach you. he snapped, and in just seconds the strum of a biwa was heard and a warm blanket and cup of tea appeared before you. muzan then proceeded to cuddle closer to you in the bed, and before you knew it, he was drinking your menstrual blood as he held your blanket covered waist. thank goodness the tea didn’t spill.

(i sorta got carried away)

Kokushibo

since he had a wife and kid (that he cared for) back when he was human, he knows how to handle it.

the second he smells blood he knows what’s happening and he enters your room with ice cream, mochi, tea, etc. and a pack that has been heated by the sun

he can control himself around your blood, especially because i believe the thought of drinking your blood would disgust him

“koku….” you said weakly as you watched him walk in the room. “my dear…” all six of his eyes softened when he laid eyes on you. “how’d you know?” you asked. “i’m a demon and your lover, i could sense it.” he rested the heated pack on your crotch and gave you the sweets before he cuddled close. soon enough the cramps faded as your eyes dropped and you fell asleep in kokushibo’s arms.

(omg that was so short compared to muzan’s i’m sorry)

dōma

knows about periods. this is a fact.

drinks your blood. another fact.

nothing else to say except this:

dōma walked in seeing you curled up in a ball on your bed. he chuckled and said in his will-bending voice: “you poor little thing, you’re on your period aren’t you darling?” and you just laid there in pain and whimpered a ‘yes’. he walked closer to you, before putting a comforting hand to your cheek. “well, baby, did you know that stimulation can help with cramps?” he worded a question, though your answer wouldn’t change his imminent actions. “s-stimulation?” you looked up at him. “oh, baby, you know what I mean…”

akaza

another guy who knows what it is

so respectful and he doesn’t eat women so obviously he doesn’t drink your blood

he just lets you curl up into him as he rubs your tummy 🥹

i’m sorry but akaza got me like 🧎‍♀️

“kaza…” you whimpered as best you could. “‘t hurts” you whined. your boyfriend stepped into the room. wordlessly, he approached you and got under the blankets. the first word he spoke occurred once he latched on as the big spoon with his big hands rubbing your stomach gently. “baby… don’t worry… i’ll always keep you from pain…” you leaned into his touch and stayed like that for the rest of the evening.

#demon slayer #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer x reader #kny #kny x reader #muzan x reader #kokushibo x reader #douma x reader #akaza x reader #muzan kibutsuji #kokushibo #douma #akaza

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weepingwillowwonder · 29 days

Text

#10 Hazbin Hotel "Things I ✨️LOVE✨️ the idea of..." (because I can't share these things with people irl...)

[Minors DNI! 🔞] -> -> ->

Rosie x reader x Alastor

CW: Humiliation, Oral sex, Sex toys, Reader on display?, Teasing, Sub!Reader

Rosie and Alastor have tea time with Rosie's new "assistant"

---

“Oh Alastor, I’m so glad you were able to come by!” Rosie exclaims, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. “It’s been much too long! Come in, come in!” She brings the guest into the secluded tea room, gesturing to him to take a seat across from her. Alastor nods in agreement with a pondering look on his face, his usual smile seeming genuine to be in the presence of a good friend. “I suppose it has been quite a while...” He trails off as you come into the room with a tray of refreshments.

While his usual grin reflects no emotions, the slight narrowing of Alastors eyes is the only indication he shows of a reaction of your presence. “Ah, what a wonderful job, dear! Very nice, well done!” Rosie’s hands clasp together in her lap as you arrange the various delicacies and beverages on table for the two overlords. You give her a small smile at her praise and step away to put the remaining tray in the kitchen.

In your brief absence, Alasor wordlessly looks to Rosie with an eyebrow raised questionably. During their past gatherings it was rare to have another person involved, much less someone who didn’t really fit the description of someone who lived in Cannibal town. He had found it strange that he had never seen you before, even more so that Rosie had not mentioned you until now.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she looks back at him and offers him a sly look. When you come back to the table she introduces you both, “This is my… newest assistant.” She grins as she brings her teacup to her lips, amused by your flustered expression. “You know how being an overlord can be sometimes,” with her free hand she wiggles her fingers playfully. “ It's useful to have someone to help relieve that stress.”

Alastor easily picks up the innuendo in her tone, although he’s not exactly sure what she means by ‘assistant.’ When your name rolls off his tongue, your breath catches. Of course you’d heard of the radio demon and his history prior to this interaction. Even before Rosie mentioned their close nature, you were well aware of the horror stories that gave him his notable reputation.

“Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!” He offers you his hand, in which you return the gesture, timidly shaking it. Your eyes flicker to Rosie when you let go of his hand, watching as she discreetly pulls a tiny black controller from her pocket. She doesn’t acknowledge that you are watching her, immediately going into conversation to catch up with her friend.

After waiting for sometime in anticipation, you finally relax. Bringing your glass of water to your lips, you follow along with the lighthearted discussion, occasionally nodding in agreement on a particular topic. A sudden humming between your legs makes you jerk slightly, spilling some of the contents from your cup into your lap. The gasp that escapes you from the stimulation, easily could have been disguised as surprise by the cold liquid seeping through your clothes.

Rosie feigns her shock by your outburst and reaches over to pat your lap with a napkin. “Darling, you really ought to be more careful!” Her motions disguised as an attempt to clean you up, were teasingly stroking the tops of your thighs, dangerously close to the sensitive area between your legs. You hold your breath, hoping that you were hidden by the tablecloth from Alastor’s unwavering gaze.

“So messy…” Rosie sighs disappointedly before leaning back in her seat. “You’ll have to excuse this behavior, Alastor.” She turns the vibrations up a notch, forcing you to press your legs together. “We’re working on our…edicate. Aren’t we dear?” Both sets of eyes are on you now and you nod, trying to keep your composure. “Yes ma’am...” you answer breathlessly.

Alastor’s eyes crinkle in amusement as he watches your trembling form. Maybe if you weren’t so obvious he could write off the faint buzzing sound as white noise from some nearby machinery. He rests his elbows on the table, fists tucked under his chin as he takes in your appearance. Your hands wring together, seeking some form of comfort in your embarrassment as you fail not to shift in your chair. Eyes glazed over and unfocused, you keep looking to Rosie for approval, small sounds escaping your lips when you don’t get it. His ears pick up on the quickening of your breath, your scent of arousal filling his nose as well.

So odd that Rosie would have her…acquaintance perform such lewd acts so openly in front of him. Surely she didn’t think he wouldn’t notice, right? For a moment things are quiet as you continue your attempts to gather yourself. The sticky wetness growing between your legs provides more and more of a struggle in your situation. Rosie raises the vibrations again, noting the slightest arch of your back in the chair and how your eyes slip close. When they open, your face falls as she slides the remote on the table in Alastor's direction.

“What’s this?” He ponders, reaching over to inspect the gadget. He takes note of the current setting, looks to his companion as she answers. “That,” she lazily points to the controller, lifting her cup for a sip of tea. “Is what I use to keep my little assistant in line. Isn’t that right?” It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking to you, lost in the pleasurable feeling of the toy nestled inside you. When she calls your name again expectantly, you answer, “H-huh? Oh! Right, y-yes ma’am..!”

Alastor takes a look at the controller again, half-listening to Rosie ramble on to another topic as if she didn’t just hand him some form of sex technology. If anything he was curious, not usually one to partake in actions of this nature. When he fiddles with one of the knobs, he’s pleasantly surprised at the needy sound that slips from your lips. He feels a slight stirring in his pants, not from the sexual nature of the situation, but from the control the tiny remote in his hand held over you. Before he realizes it, he finds himself speaking, “If I may ask, what exactly is this remote controlling?”

The glint in Rosie’s eyes and the sharply growing grin on her face almost has Alastor second guessing his curiosity. She turns to you and motions to you to answer him. When his eyes fall on you, you shakily attempt to get up from your chair, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. “I um forgot, I t-think I need to..." you stutter, trying to make an escape. "Sit." Rosie commands, giving you a sharp glance and pointing back to your chair. The desperate noise that escapes you has the other two chuckling as you obediently plop back down in the chair.

"Your pet listens well," Alastor comments, eyeing your trembling form. Rosie laughs and reaches over to rub a comforting hand on your knee. "Well it's taken some training that's for sure! Such a sweet little thing. Wouldn't know discipline if it hit 'em in the head…” Her nails slightly dig into the area where her hand is placed. “Now...be a dear and answer our guest, you don’t want to be a bad host do you?”

You shake your head, keeping your head down as your fingers shakily move to unbutton your pants. They watch expectantly as you slowly undress your bottom half, the clothing piling on the floor in front of you. You lift your legs to rest your heels on the sides of the chair you're sitting on and spread yourself wide for them to see.

The feeling of the cold air coming in contact with your arousal has you burning up, feeling the most exposed in this moment. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs as the vibrations continue from the toy inside of you. The heated gaze of the two overlords has you feeling well past overstimulated, almost as if they had been actively touching you. When your hand reaches down to skim the base of the toy, you let out a wonton moan as the slight bit of pressure. “It vibrates here..” You murmur. Alastor nods silently, absentmindedly pressing the heel of his hand to his crotch to relieve some of the growing sensation. The quiet sigh that leaves his lips doesn't go unnoticed by you or Rosie.

"Oh would you look at the time! I've got to run. I’ve got appointments starting in thirty…can’t be late on the job of course! Sweetie, why don't you help take care of our guest...." Rosie motions over to Alastor as she rises and starts to pick up the dishes on the table, walking into the next room. Immediately you slip off the chair to fall to your knees in front of him.

The motion presses the toy further in, rubbing perfectly against that sweet bundle of nerves inside of you. Alastor's legs spread wide as he looks at you you with a knowing expression. You look down and bite your lip, rocking against your heels slightly before trying to pull yourself together enough to follow the instructions you were given.

Knowing very well of his dislike for being touched, you opt to ask politely for his permission before continuing, “May I..?” He waits for a moment, glancing at the little black remote. “Well how can I say no when you ask so nicely? I mean I definitely could…” He brings a pondering hand to his chin, mockingly lost in thought. You can feel your heart beat loudly thumping in your ears as you pitifully beg him to let you help him. “P-please…”

Alastor’s hand slowly drops to his lap, now eyeing you with a predatory gaze. He silently unbuckles his belt, taking his time as he continues on to unbutton his pants. You watch earnestly as his fingers unzip his pants, then disappear under the waistband of his briefs. When he reveals himself, you can’t help licking your lips in anticipation. He slips his pants lower and motions a hand towards you, offering himself.

Being weary of your hand placement, you lean down quickly to take his hardening cock into your mouth. The sound that comes from Alastor startles you, accidentally forcing more of him down your throat. Choking on his cock briefly has you distracted from the task at hand, your eyes flickering to his heated gaze. The look he gives you has you baring down on the toy inside of you, eyes blinking close as you get lost in the pleasure.

At his deep growl, Rosie comes back into the room first gasping in surprise, then letting out a pleased giggle. "Oh my! That certainly isn't what I meant, but I suppose that works too!" Alastor's hand finds purchase in the back of your head, forcing you to take more of him. Your eyes glaze over as you fight your gag reflex, trying so hard to be good for your guest.

Alastor's hips roll against your mouth, searching for more of your wet heat as he gets closer to completion. His erratic movements have you reaching up to find purchase in his thighs, only to stop right before contact at the sound of the distorted static in the radio demon's voice. "Don't." Your hands immediately drop to your lap, fists balled up against your knees as he continues to use your mouth as he pleases.

He doesn't warn you when he cums, but you see the way his sharp smile seems to slightly falter right before his release hits your tongue. Your eyes fall close as your mouth fills with his essence, throwing you into a rapid release as well. Your hips rock backwards as you struggle to swallow it all down. The weight of him against your tongue has you moaning around him, earning a soft chuckle from above you. When your eyes open, they fall on Alastor's, holding contact as he slides out of your mouth and turns off the contraption inside of you. Your tongue immediately flickers against your lips to chase any remnants of him and he gives you a pleased look.

When you turn towards the table, you notice it's been completely cleared and Rosie makes her appearance again. "Alright, come along now, pull yourself together." She motions a finger to you to come to her as you struggle to quickly dress yourself, tripping over your feet. "Alastor, as always it's a pleasure to see you. I apologize our chat was cut short this time, do come by again soon so we can catch up!" When you look back at Alastor he's already made himself presentable and has a hand extended towards you.

"Oh and do make sure to thank Alastor! After all he's been quite patient with you...” Rosie raises an eyebrow at you as you accept his assistance and rise to your feet. "T-thank you, sir." You breathed out, looking down to avoid the eyes watching you in the moment. He raises the back of your hand to his lips, the action surprising you enough to glance back up to him. "Of course, the pleasure is all mine."

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #alastor x reader #rosie x reader #alastor x reader x rosie #smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #alastor

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seungminsbaldspot · 26 days

Text

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Part one: Six Years, Five Months, and Two Days | Five X Reader

Word Count: 5329

Genre: angst / smut

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Content: Explicit descriptions of sexual activity and references to sexual encounters, Cheating and Betrayal: Emotional fallout from a partner's infidelity, Emotional Manipulation and Gaslighting: Attempts to manipulate emotions and control within a relationship, Non-Consensual Physical Restraint: Instances of physical restraint, such as pinning against a wall or holding wrists down, Physical Aggression and Violence: Descriptions of forceful movements and aggressive behavior, Themes of Anger and Hate in a Relationship Context: Emphasis on anger, resentment, and hate within a romantic relationship, Rough or Aggressive Sexual Behavior: Elements of rough and aggressive sexual encounters, bordering on non-consensual behavior, References to Self-Worth and Insecurity: Reflections on feelings of inadequacy and questions about self-worth due to a partner's actions, Emotional Pain and Trauma: Heavy themes of emotional pain, grief, and unresolved trauma, and Language and Tone: Use of harsh and aggressive language, including profanity and confrontational statements.

Notes: f! oral receiving, low-key toxic reader ( to be fair five cheated and I support women’s wrongs ) Handjob, Edging, dirty talk, vaginal sex

Author’s note: I have not watched season 4 and I still do not plan too, mwah

Spoiler: All you get is, There will be a part 3

Click here for next part three!

Click here for the previous part one!

The anger hasn’t waned; it has only solidified into a constant, heavy presence in your life. You’ve withdrawn from everyone around you, the thought of facing anyone else too overwhelming to bear. The pain and frustration have driven you to isolate yourself, seeking solace in solitude rather than the company of others.

The only person you’ve managed to speak with at all is Allison. She’s the lone exception to your self-imposed isolation, offering a semblance of normalcy and a listening ear. Her patience and understanding are a rare comfort in this tumultuous time, though even your interactions with her are tinged with the shadows of your unresolved feelings.

Five, on the other hand, feels like a constant, painful reminder of everything you’ve lost. Each time you catch sight of him approaching, a wave of instinctual panic drives you to flee. You avoid him as if he’s a physical manifestation of your anguish. When you see him heading your way, you almost immediately retreat to the room you once shared. There, you lock the door behind you, creating a tangible barrier between yourself and the world outside, a small fortress of solitude where you can escape the reminders of your broken trust.

Your new daily routine has become a predictable cycle. You stay confined to your room for most of the day, emerging only for the latter part of dinner when everyone gathers to eat. You join them just long enough to pick at your food, barely participating in the conversation. The silence and the strained glances from others only deepen your sense of isolation. Once you’ve finished, you retreat back to your room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that echoes the loneliness you feel.

You’re maintaining this ritual, this enforced distance, until one evening when you’re heading back to your room. As you walk through the hallways, the familiar routine feels almost comforting in its predictability. But tonight, something shifts in the air. The hallway seems quieter, more oppressive, and the weight of your emotions feels heavier than usual. Each step toward the door of your sanctuary feels more burdensome, as if the act of retreating is becoming more than just a physical escape but a symbol of your own entrapment.

You reach for the door handle, your mind a tumultuous mix of pain and anger. Just as you’re about to close the door behind you, a sudden sound from the hallway makes you freeze.

It’s Five.

Before you can react, he’s right behind you, closing the distance with an urgency that catches you off guard. His hand wraps around your wrist with a firm grip, and before you know it, he’s pinning you against the wall. The pressure of his hold is both commanding and desperate, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that cuts through the fog of your emotions.

The hallway around you seems to dissolve into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, claustrophobic space. His breath is uneven, mingling with the tension that hangs heavily in the air. His face is a complex tapestry of frustration and something deeper—something you can’t quite put your finger on.

The familiar surge of anger rises within you, a fiery response to the violation of your space and emotions. “Get the fuck off of me,” you snap, trying to wrench your wrist free from his grasp. Your voice is sharp, laced with a mixture of hurt and defiance. The intensity of the moment amplifies your feelings, making the struggle against his hold feel even more urgent.

Five’s grip tightens momentarily, as if he’s trying to ground himself, but his eyes soften just enough to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability. “I know you’re angry,” he says, his voice rough yet edged with desperation. “I know I messed up. But I need you to listen to me. We can’t keep doing this.”

You shake your head, the anger in your voice unmistakable. “No fucking shit, you fucked up. Now leave me the fuck alone, Five,” you grit out, struggling against his hold. His eyebrows furrow, his frustration evident. “Diego and Lila made up. Why can’t we?”

You grit your teeth, your voice steady but sharp. “I’m not dumb enough to fall for some shitty make-up sex,” you reply, your words cutting through the air.

He shakes his head, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. “Of course not,” he says, his voice softening. “I’m not saying you are.”

He switches his grip, each hand now holding one of your wrists firmly but gently, as if trying to convey earnestness through his touch. The change in his hold is subtle, his fingers wrapping around your wrists with a delicate urgency. He looks into your eyes, his gaze pleading yet determined. “What I’m trying to say is that we need to talk about this, really talk. We can’t just keep avoiding each other.”

You try to pull away, your frustration boiling over. “Leave me the fuck alone, Five,” you snap, yanking your wrists free from his grip. You rush for the door, desperate to escape, but Five moves quickly, catching the door before you can open it. He pulls you back into the room, forcing both of you into the space you once shared.

“What the fuck? Get the hell out,” you grit out, trying to push him away.

Five shakes his head, his expression set with determination. He grabs your wrist once more, his grip firm as he overpowers you. In a swift, almost frantic motion, he pulls you both onto the bed. You land flat on your back, and before you can react, Five sits across your waist, his position intended to pin you down. His weight is a physical reminder of his resolve, and he tries to stabilize you, his face inches from yours.

“I’m not leaving until we can make up,” he says, his voice a mix of desperation and determination.

You groan in frustration, your anger bubbling over. “Then fuck, we’re gonna be here till we fucking die,” you retort, struggling against him.

He smiles, a touch of defiance and resolve in his expression. “I’ve got till the end of the world, babe.” His tone is both challenging and tender, a reminder of the stubbornness that has defined so much of your relationship.

“Fuck you, Five Hargreaves,” you grit out, bucking your hips in an attempt to unbalance him. Five’s eyes narrow slightly, his grip tightening as he struggles to maintain his position. Despite the shift, he doesn’t move, his resolve unwavering.

“Fuck, why can’t you just forgive me?” he says desperately, his voice tinged with frustration.

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You fucked Lila, for fuck’s sake. Five, we’re married and you’ve never even seen me naked. How am I supposed to just forgive that?”

He sighs, the weight of your words visibly affecting him. With a defeated gesture, he loosens one of his hands, pushing back his hair, though he keeps his other hand firmly on your wrist. His expression is a mix of weariness and regret, struggling to find the right words amidst the turmoil.

“I know. I fucking know.” He says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so fucking sorry, alright? I don’t know what else to do.” His eyes search yours, a raw vulnerability in his gaze.

You sigh, your gaze drifting away from his. In a swift, determined motion, you buck your hips, shifting your position to straddle him. You look down at him, your expression a mix of frustration and intensity. “You’re so fucking infuriating all of the fucking time,” you say, your voice tinged with both anger and a deeper, unresolved hurt.

“I don’t fucking understand you,” you say, your voice trembling, “All of these years, and I feel like I just met you.” Your words cut through the air, laden with the weight of all the emotions you’ve been grappling with. He groans, his frustration evident. “Do you think I love being confused all the time, huh? It’s not exactly easy for me either.” His eyes, still locked on yours, as if he’s pleading for you to see things from his perspective, to understand that he’s struggling just as much as you are.

“I don’t give a single flying fuck about what happened in that timeline,” you spit out, your voice sharp and unyielding. “You fucking cheated on me. Someone you’ve known for 50 years.” You lean in closer, your breath mingling with his, every word laced with venom.

Five closes his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in anguish. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice strained, almost pleading.

Your heart clenches at his words, but the fury quickly surges back, hot and consuming. “I fucking hate you,” you whisper, leaning in to crash your lips against his, rough and unforgiving. You taste the salt of his regret, and it fuels the fire in your veins.

You release his wrists, not out of mercy but because you need them to support yourself as you shift your weight. As you begin to pull away, his hands find your hips with a desperate urgency. His grip is firm, almost bruising, and it ignites something primal inside you—a dark thrill at his neediness. He sits up, pressing his body against yours, trying to close the distance you’ve purposely created.

You try to jerk away, but he doesn’t relent. His mouth finds yours again, his kiss insistent, bordering on frantic, as if he could somehow erase the betrayal with the intensity of his touch. His nails dig into your sides, a biting reminder of his desperation to hold on to you, to keep you tethered to him.

“F-Five…” you hiss through clenched teeth, your voice trembling not with desire, but with the fury that he can still make you feel this way.

He hums in response, a low, needy sound, as his lips trail across your face and neck. Each kiss is too tender, too earnest. It grates against your skin like sandpaper, a mockery of the intimacy he once shattered. You grit your teeth, hating how his touch sends a heat pooling in your core, hating him for still knowing exactly how to get under your skin.

“I hate you so much…” you whisper again, but the words feel thin, brittle. They don't carry the weight of your rage the way you want them to.

He doesn’t stop. His kisses become more erratic, as if he’s trying to drown out your words with the only language he thinks he knows. His hands slide under your shirt, fingertips brushing your skin in a way that makes your breath hitch. You curse under your breath, torn between the urge to push him away and the overwhelming pull to lose yourself in him, if only to forget for a moment how much it all hurts.

He tugs at your shirt, and for a split second, you consider pushing him away again, making him suffer. But then you think, Fuck it. Maybe if he sees you like this, sees what he could lose, he’ll finally understand. You nod, a slight, reluctant movement, and his eyes light up with a mix of relief and urgency.

He rips your shirt over your head, his lips immediately trailing hot, fervent kisses along your neck. Your breathing quickens, your body betraying your anger as it responds to his touch. He fumbles with the hooks of your bra, and you don’t help him. Let him struggle. Let him know that this isn’t forgiveness—it’s a punishment. When he finally unhooks it, your bra falls away, and you watch his face for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But his gaze is intense, almost reverent, and you hate him even more for it.

The room is thick with tension, the silence broken only by your ragged breaths. His eyes roam over your chest, and you feel a flicker of insecurity. Did he like hers better? Are mine not good enough? The questions stab at your already bleeding heart, but you shake them off, forcing your anger back to the surface.

Without warning, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a bruising kiss. You’re not gentle; you’re taking from him, using him. He doesn’t get to have this, you think bitterly. He doesn’t deserve this.

He gasps against your mouth, surprised by your aggression, but quickly falls into rhythm, kissing you back with a hunger that makes your head spin. His hands grip your bare waist, pulling you closer, his touch igniting your skin in a way that makes your heart race with a confusing blend of hate and desire.

You reach down, grabbing the hem of his shirt, yanking it up with frustration. You want him exposed, vulnerable, just like he made you feel. You want to see him stripped of everything—his clothes, his defenses, his excuses. You pull his shirt off roughly, and he lets out a soft grunt, his eyes wide with surprise at your forcefulness.

Your hands move to his waistband, tugging with more force than necessary. Five understands the message immediately, quickly shedding his pants, leaving him in just his underwear. His hands are on you again, this time more urgent, more desperate, as he pulls your shorts down your legs. His movements are hurried, almost frantic, as if he’s afraid you’ll change your mind and leave him half-naked and abandoned.

His hands roam down your body, grasping and squeezing your ass with a possessiveness that makes you bristle. He hooks his finger in the band of your underwear, pulling it away from your skin and letting it snap back. The sting makes you gasp, not in pleasure, but in shock. You bite your lip, glaring at him, hating how even now, in the middle of your rage, he can still get a reaction out of you.

He doesn't deserve this, you think again, but you’re already too far gone. You’re in too deep, both with him and with your own conflicting feelings. You hate him, but you want him, and that contradiction tears at you, making you reckless, making you want to hurt him the way he hurt you.

He smiles and lays you down flat on the bed. He slowly pulls your underwear down to your ankles.

You glare at Five, anger coursing through you like a live wire. His eyes lock onto yours, hesitant, as if he's unsure of his place with you now. You hate the way he looks at you—the way his gaze drifts over your body, as if trying to remember every inch, every curve. He has no right. Not after what he did. Not after the betrayal. But damn it, you still want him, and that infuriates you even more.

He cheated. The thought burns in your mind, a searing reminder of why you're here now, in this moment, letting him touch you, letting him come this close. You want to use him, to make him feel some fraction of the anger and hurt that's been simmering inside you since the moment you found out. You're not here to forgive; you're here to take what you want.

Five leans down, his lips pressing a tentative kiss to your inner thigh. You feel his breath, hot against your skin, and it sends a shiver through you despite yourself. Anger and desire mix in a confusing swirl, and you have to bite back a frustrated moan. You shouldn't be feeling this way—not after everything—but your body has other ideas. You're furious with him, with yourself, with how easily he still affects you. His hands slide up your legs, parting them with a gentleness that almost makes you want to scream. It's too soft, too careful, and you can't stand it.

"Don't," you snap, your voice sharp. "Don't pretend this is something it's not. You fucking cheated, I’m gonna use you."

Five's fingers hesitate, his eyes flicking up to yours, searching. But you're not giving him anything—no reassurance, no forgiveness. Not now. Maybe not ever. His touch resumes, more deliberate now, his fingers tracing a path up your thighs. You feel his uncertainty, his regret, and it only stokes the fire inside you. He’s trying to be careful, to tread lightly, but you don't want careful. You want raw. You want him to understand just how much he's hurt you, just how deep the wound goes.

When his lips brush against your core, you don't hold back the sound that escapes you—a moan that's filled with anger as much as it is with desire. It's a sound that tells him everything he needs to know: you're not doing this for him. You're doing this for you. His tongue moves against you, hesitant at first, but you grab his hair roughly, pulling him closer, forcing him to go deeper. If he thinks he can just make it all better with a few soft touches, he's dead wrong.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you arch against him, not in surrender, but in command. You're directing this, controlling it, making sure he knows exactly what he's lost, exactly what he threw away when he chose someone else. You grind against his mouth, not giving him a chance to catch his breath. You’re angry, and you want him to feel every bit of it.

He groans against you, his hands gripping your thighs harder, and you can't tell if it's out of pleasure or frustration. Maybe both. Good. Let him feel it. Let him understand that this isn’t about making amends. This is about you taking what you need from him, nothing more.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you climb higher, teetering on the edge of a release that feels like it could shatter you—or maybe put you back together. You’re not sure. You only know that you want it, need it, if only to drown out the anger that’s been suffocating you. His tongue moves faster, more desperate, and you can feel him trying to please you, trying to make up for what he’s done. But you don’t want his remorse. You want his surrender.

When you finally let go, it's with a cry that's part pleasure, part anguish—a sound that echoes around the room, raw and unfiltered. Your body shudders against him, every nerve ending sparking with the intensity of your release. You pull his hair harder, dragging him with you as you ride out every wave, every pulse, every ripple of sensation that he’s drawn from you.

As the pleasure fades, you push him away, catching your breath, your heart pounding with a mixture of satisfaction and lingering rage. Five looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion, regret, and something else—maybe longing, maybe loss. You don't care. You're not ready to decipher his feelings. This wasn't about him. This was about you, reclaiming some sense of control.

You reach down his torso, into his underwear, that was still on. Your fingers wrap around his length, feeling him hard and throbbing beneath your touch. Five's breath hitches, a soft groan escaping his lips as you begin to stroke him slowly, deliberately. You can feel his body tensing, responding to your touch despite the anger that still simmers between you.

Your movements are slow, calculated, as you watch Five's reactions closely. His eyes are half-lidded, his breathing shallow, and you can see the conflict in his expression—the desire warring with the guilt. You increase your pace slightly, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction as he struggles to maintain his composure. This is your power now, your control, and you intend to wield it mercilessly.

You tighten your grip, watching as Five's hips involuntarily buck into your hand. His eyes squeeze shut, a low moan escaping his throat. You can feel him trembling beneath your touch, fighting against the pleasure you're giving him. It's intoxicating, this power you hold over him, and for a moment, you consider pushing him further, seeing just how much he can take before he breaks completely.

When his breathing becomes more erratic, you suddenly stop, earning a desperate moan from Five. His eyebrows furrow as he looks into your eyes, confusion and need evident. You smile at him, shaking your head. His gaze holds a mix of frustration and longing, but you relish the moment of dominance.

You lay flat against the bed, peering up at Five. Despite your anger, you can't ignore the fact that this is your first time, while he's had experience. The realization sends a mix of emotions coursing through you - vulnerability, defiance, and a touch of insecurity. "It's my first time, you know," you say, your voice wavering slightly between accusation and confession. "And clearly, you have had experience." The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications and the weight of recent betrayals.

Five's expression shifts, a grimace crossing his features as the full impact of your words sinks in. He nods slowly, acknowledging the truth in your statement. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, perhaps grappling with the consequences of his actions. Then, with a deliberate movement, he crawls over you, his arms braced on either side of your head. His gaze is intense, searching, filled with a complex mix of desire, regret, and something that might be longing. He opens his mouth, clearly on the verge of saying something, but you're not ready to hear it. Not now, not when you're balanced on this razor's edge of anger and desire.

You place a firm hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. "Just save it, alright?" you say, your voice low and tinged with a hint of challenge. "Fuck me." The words are both a command and a surrender, a way of taking control even as you give yourself over to the moment.

Five hesitates, his eyes roaming your face as if trying to read your thoughts. You can see the conflict in his expression, the desire warring with concern. But you meet his gaze steadily, unflinching, silently daring him to back down. Finally, finding no uncertainty in your eyes, he positions himself at your entrance. You feel the heat of him, the promise of what's to come, and your breath catches in anticipation.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Five pushes into you. The sensation is overwhelming - a complex blend of pleasure, discomfort, and an intense feeling of fullness that makes you gasp. It's more than just physical; it's emotional too, a connection that feels both right and wrong given the circumstances. Five stills, allowing you time to adjust, his gaze never leaving yours. In his eyes, you see a swirl of emotions - desire, concern, and something deeper that you're not ready to name.

You clench your jaw, trying to suppress a moan as the initial discomfort gives way to a building pleasure. It's intense, almost too much, but you refuse to show any sign of weakness. Five begins to move, his thrusts slow and measured, each one sending waves of sensation through your body. Despite your anger, despite everything that's happened, you can't deny the intensity of the moment, the way your bodies seem to fit together perfectly. It's as if your bodies remember a connection that your minds are trying to forge

A moan escapes your lips, betraying the tumultuous mix of emotions surging within you. You bite down on your lip, determined to keep the upper hand, but it's becoming harder to ignore the mounting pleasure that spreads through you with each of Five's movements.

He maintains his slow, deliberate pace, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort. You can see the concern etched across his features, but it only serves to stoke the fire of your anger. You don't want his pity, his guilt, or his regret. You want to take control of this moment, to reclaim your power in the face of the betrayal that still lingers between you.

“Harder,” you grit out, your voice low and demanding. You dig your nails into his back, urging him on. You want to erase everything—his betrayal, your pain, the confusion that lingers in every shared glance.

Five’s breath hitches at your command, his grip on your hips tightening as he adjusts his pace, thrusting deeper, harder. The intensity spikes, a mix of pleasure and pain that sends electric currents through your veins. You arch against him, every nerve alight, every sense heightened. The friction, the heat, the sound of your bodies moving together—it's overwhelming, consuming. The anger that has been a constant presence within you begins to shift, transforming into something raw and primal, a need that you're only now beginning to understand. It's not forgiveness - not by a long shot - but in this moment, the hurt and betrayal fade into the background.

You arch your back, pushing your hips up to meet his movements, matching his rhythm with a newfound intensity. Every sensation is amplified, every touch, every thrust sending you spiraling further into a haze of conflicting emotions. You hate him for what he did, for the pain he caused, but in this moment, all of that fades into the background, leaving only the raw, electric connection between you.

Five's breathing becomes more labored, his grip on your hips tightening as he increases his pace. You feel the pressure building within you, a tight coil that threatens to snap at any moment. Your hands claw at his back, leaving marks in your wake, a physical manifestation of your anger and frustration. You want him to remember this, to carry the evidence of this moment with him, just as you've been forced to carry the weight of his betrayal.

"Is this what you wanted?" you taunt, your voice breathless but defiant. "To fuck me like you did her?"

Five's eyes flash with something you can't quite place—a mix of anger, regret, and a desperation that matches your own. His movements become more erratic, his grip on you almost bruising in its intensity. He leans down, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin. "No," he growls, his voice rough with emotion. "I want you. I've always wanted you."

The words strike a chord deep within you, igniting a fresh wave of conflicting emotions. Part of you wants to believe him, to let yourself be swept away by the intensity of the moment. But the other part, the part that still clings to the pain and betrayal, refuses to let go. You push against his chest, creating a small space between you, just enough to remind him—and yourself—of the distance that still exists between you.

Despite the brief reprieve, the pleasure continues to build, a relentless tide that threatens to pull you under. You feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body tightening with anticipation, and you know that you're close, so close to the release you've been chasing. You dig your nails into his back, urging him on, needing him to push you over that final precipice.

You cling to him, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer. “Don’t you fucking dare stop,” you warn, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. You need this, this moment where everything else fades away and there’s only the sensation of his body against yours, inside yours.

Five responds with a deep, guttural moan, his face inches from yours. His rhythm becomes more erratic, driven by a mix of desperation and need. His breaths are hot against your skin, his forehead pressed against yours as he moves faster, his thrusts becoming more frantic. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound a rhythm of its own, matching the pulse of your racing heart.

You feel your body tensing, the coil of pleasure tightening, and you know you’re close. You grip Five’s shoulders, holding on as the wave builds, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. His name escapes your lips in a broken moan, a sound filled with all the anger, all the need, all the conflicted emotions that have been burning inside you.

His hands roam your body, one slipping between you to find that sensitive spot, his touch sending a shock of pleasure through you. It’s too much, too intense, and you throw your head back, a cry tearing from your throat as you come undone around him, your body convulsing with the force of your climax.

Five’s thrusts grow more uneven, more desperate, as he chases his own release. You feel him tremble, his grip on you tightening as he reaches his peak, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he spills into you, his body collapsing against yours in a tangle of limbs and sweat.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the weight of what just happened settling between you like a heavy fog. Five doesn’t move, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his breaths warm against your skin. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Eventually, Five pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for something—understanding, forgiveness, maybe even love. But you’re not ready to give him any of that. Not yet. You turn your head away, your jaw clenched, trying to steady your breathing, trying to ignore the way your heart still races from the intensity of it all.

He tries to move closer, but you place a firm hand on his chest, stopping him cold. The heat of his body against your palm contrasts sharply with the coldness in your voice. “Don’t,” you warn, your tone low and laced with menace. “This doesn’t change anything. You’re still a fucking cheater.”

His eyes widen slightly, a mix of shock and regret flashing across his face. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to keep his composure. His gaze drops to the floor, unable to meet yours. The intensity of the moment hangs heavy in the air, the silence between you almost palpable.

You feel a flicker of satisfaction at his obedience, his silent acknowledgment of your terms. His body tenses under your hand, a clear sign that he’s accepted the boundaries you’ve set. Your anger and sense of control are temporarily sated, a bitter victory in the aftermath of your cathartic release.

The room is filled with the soft, ragged breaths of both of you, the aftermath of your shared moment lingering in the charged atmosphere. You've gotten what you wanted—at least for now.

“Get out,” you command, your voice firm and unyielding.

He opens his mouth to protest, a “But—” escaping his lips, but you cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. “Leave me alone, Five.”

He hesitates, his eyes darting between you and the door. “We just fucked. Are you sure about this?” he asks, a mix of confusion and vulnerability in his voice. You stare at him coldly, the remnants of your anger still simmering beneath the surface. “I’m sure. Just go.”

He swallows hard, clearly torn, but he nods slowly, turning to gather his clothes. The silence that follows is heavy, each breath a reminder of the intensity of what just transpired. As he exits, the door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone in the stillness.

Tears slip down your cheeks, unbidden. Why do you love him so much?

#tua season 4 #tua #tua s4 #the umbrella academy season 4 #five x reader #five hargreeves #five x lila #tua five #number five #hargreeves siblings #the umbrella academy #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you

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nouvxllev · 7 months

Text

after party

Pairing: G!p!Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: in which you both left a party in pure silence just seconds after tara pulled you away from flirting too much with a girl.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: pure and heavy smut like every scene is a sex scene. oh and its angry sex

a/n: i wanna consider this as the special valentines fic because the main one im writing right now im totally so damn stumped on. so heres one to atleast keep up with my stories

masterlist.

You were too fucked out of your mind to even process anything. All you took note of was that your girlfriend looks pretty fucking hot when she's jealous.

Your breath was caught in your throat as Tara's hands pressed you firmly against the wall, a forceful thud and your back meeting the hard surface, your bodies pressed together as your hands tried to push her away but your efforts were in vain when you were met with her abs concealed beneath her shirt. Tara's lips claimed yours without a second of hesitation, letting her mouth slip inside as she explored every inch of you.

A gasp that turned into a moan escaped your lips as Tara's hands slid eagerly under your thighs, you could feel a smirk between kisses, her touch warm under your skin as she effortlessly lifted you up against the wall, all while you allowed your tongue surrender as she took control over you. You could feel her fingers slipping under your shorts, caressing every inch of your skin with her thumb, tracing the delicate curves of your ass before squeezing it sent shivers down your spine.

Her lips on yours and her hot breath mingled with your own was its own fix. Too intoxicating, yet so addictive, you couldn't get enough even if it killed you. Your hands go nowhere but to instinctively wrap them around her head, fingers possessively at the nape of her neck, letting your head tilt to create the perfect angle for Tara to deepen her assault inside your mouth.

It wasn't romantic, it wasn't delicate, it wasn't passionate. It was raw, filthy, messy, and sloppy. But who were you to care if you got to see Tara so eager to fuck the shit out of you?

She pulled away, her breathing becoming strained as a string of saliva unraveling themselves as your lips were far apart from hers, an aching sensation that you never wanted to happen. "Why were you flirting with her? In front of me?" Tara breathed out, her voice filled with desperation and want, husky but fuck did it make you clench around nothing.

"I wasn't—god," Your pathetic words turned into a moan when you felt Tara push her body against yours with force. You could feel her hard erection rub against your clothed clit, driving you wild, your hips bucking involuntarily to seek more friction than a simple bump of its head as you struggled to explain, "I didn't mean to."

Her nails dug into the soft and sweaty flesh of your ass, making you wince as she spoke, "You were practically fucking yourself onto her." Tara's words were harsh, but it made your cunt throb with wetness more than ever, clenching around nothing yet again. It took all of your self-control to not pull down everything she had and ride her dick until the insides of your pussy remembered her shape.

"I didn't… I didn't mean to, Tara, please," you stammered. You could feel saliva dripping from your mouth as your abused lips hung open, wanting nothing more than to let Tara inside. Or better yet, letting her cock drill into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat.

Her eyes bore into yours, making you feel like prey under her hands. It was rare to see Tara like this, and fuck it turned you on. "You liked her hands on you, didn't you? You even got her number." The sound of her voice terrified you, but it never overcame the excitement that shot through your spine, shivering as she tried to bring you closer to her, her mouth opened to take yours but you were never granted that.

"No—" You tried to find a voice when all you can do is whine, whimper, and moan whenever her throbbing cock was rubbing against your pussy and the tightening grip she had on your ass. "I don't want her, please," you whined, "I want you. Only you."

"Really, y/n?" Tara's breath caressed your skin, "Then let me fuck you against my bed so everyone in this apartment can hear how fucking good you take my cock. That alright with you, baby?" She purred, her grip on your ass tightening further as she guided both of you toward the bedroom. Her head leaned in, tracing lazy kisses along your jawline. It was crazy to think someone so small could have this much strength.

You nodded feverishly, a small mhm coming out, afraid that your words would just come out as a pathetic whine. Your hands remained on her shoulders as you allowed Tara to manhandle you toward the bed. The ache between your legs, combined with the throbbing need within your pussy, pleaded for her touch even more, wanting nothing but to let her dick plow into your dripping pussy until you couldn't take it.

Tara wasted no time in throwing you against the bed, your back landing on the mattress with a loud thud while her body was on top of yours, her cock pressed so fucking close against your pussy, the subtle friction making your hips buck in a desperate motion. Her hands went down your chest, tugging at the fabric that was the only barrier between her and your body.

"You know, she would've ripped it apart and fucked me so good right now."

You could tell that was the last straw for Tara.

In a heartbeat, Tara abandoned any hint of gentleness she had with you, ripping your blouse open with such force she almost tore it apart, eliciting a rather embarrassing wince from you.

The piece of unwanted fabric desperately clung near the edges of your shoulders, barely holding on as you felt her hands drop to your chest. Her fingers traced the curves of your body, the simple touch making your pussy throb with want yet again, reaching up to your breasts and then to your mouth, her thumb parting your lips as she ducked down to slip her tongue into yours.

Your hands flew to Tara's shorts, fingers frantically pulling the hem down along with her boxers, letting them slide down to Tara's hips as her throbbing cock sprang out, slapping against the fabric of her shirt. She was big. Probably the first and last monstrous cock you'd ever take.

"Tara…" you gasped, her name escaping your lips in a breathy moan as Tara pulled away. Her hands immediately found their way to your waist as her fingers worked to pull your own shorts down, mindlessly discarding them around somewhere, your wet cunt being exposed to the cold air and Tara's gaze.

"God, y/n, you're soaked," she whispered as she wrapped her fingers around her cock, stroking it up and down. Your slick gushing out on her mattress was one of the things that made her erection throb so damn painfully. She guided the head, coaxed with her own pre-cum, to your slick folds, parting them slowly. "Wanna fuck you so deep and let you forget about her entire existence," she breathrd out, her eyes watched yours in a haze with your mouth hung open.

"Tara fucking Carpenter, if you don't—FUCK!"

You cried out as you felt Tara shove her cock deep inside your tight pussy without warning, the sudden invasion making your folds stretch so damn good to accommodate her throbbing length, the pain mixed with pleasure making your head spin and your toes curl.

Tara's hands gripped your hips firmly, her perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin to hold your body steady as she relentlessly kept sinking her huge cock into your heat.

Your body shuddered, making the perfect arch for Tara to penetrate your pussy even further as she leaned down, Tara, wait, you're too big, oh shit...!" You moaned, letting her bite and kiss every inch of her skin as you welcomed her, marking you as her own as if her dick wasn't claiming you right this second.

Tara continued fucking into you, ignoring how painful it was to be inside of you yet so satisfying seeing her dick disappearing and reappearing, your wet slick going nowhere but being used as a lube for her thick and girthy cock.

Her name continuously escaped your lips along with a moan, "...shit! Right there Tara, oh fuck!" You gasped, giving her the most pornographic moan she ever heard, the lewd repeated claps of your ass meeting her hips while she rammed her shaft inside you with disgruntled breaths and grunts.

"Take it, baby," she whispered, her voice husky as her hands slid under your thighs that instinctively encircled her body, "I know you can." She slowed her pace down, grabbing your legs and folding them onto your body then returned to her merciless pace, "Such a perfect mess for me." She grunted, her hips desperately rutting into your sex.

You moaned uncontrollably throughout her room, "So... so full, holy fuck," You groaned, throwing your head back in pure ecstasy, your fists clenching, your eyes rolling back and your toes curling beneath her as you writhed under her touch, wanting more even if your pussy was already stuffed to the brim with Tara.

Your arms reached out to her, fingers gripping her shoulders all while your body shook and squirmed underneath her, "Fuck me. Fuck me so hard, please, Tara!" You begged, tears starting to trickle down your eyes while immense pleasure washed over you, your voice reverberating as she dicked you down.

Tara's half-lidded eyes locked in with yours, pure lust evident in her eyes. No longer staring at your puffy folds, her mouth hung open, grunts escaping her soft lips with every forceful thrust.

"You want this, don't you?" Her mouth poured out words with every harsh thrust she gave you. Your mind couldn't work properly, let alone form any coherent sentences other than incoherent mumbling and needy whimpers of her name. "To make me fuck you senseless with my cock until your brain couldn't think of anything other than my dick."

It was clear she knew the answer, she just needed to hear it from you.

Your breath hitched, staring at Tara as if you'd pass out by how stretched you were under her, your throat unable to form words as it was caught between pathetic gasps and moans, your walls fluttering around her dick like it was your sole purpose to be her cock-warming slut and manhandled so good by her.

You couldn't focus on anything other than Tara. Tara, Tara, Tara, oh how her cock felt so good buried inside of you, how it kept hitting your cervix with every thrust, and how it was so fucking painful yet it sent shivers down your spine that made your back arch so naturally.

"Answer me," she rasped, her hands releasing the harsh grip on your thighs that were bound to leave a mark and letting them trail up your body until they reached your throat, her fingers wrapping around it with their possessive grip, her nails slightly grazing your skin that were already adorned with hickeys. "Don't tell me you're too drunk on my cock to think of anything else."

You couldn't handle it anymore, your airways constricting with each tightening grip Tara had on your throat. "Yes!" you screamed, "I need your dick so much, so badly, Tara, my God—!" You choked out, your muscles tensing as you felt a knot forming in your stomach, your cunt clenching around her cock

"So close, so close, soclosesoclose, 'm close, Tara, f-fuck!" you whimpered, your hands reaching over her shoulders, nails clawing against her chiseled back, leaving red marks along her body that were bound to scar.

You couldn't miss the subtle wince that went across Tara's face under your harsh touch. Even if you were so damn close to cumming around her dick, the relentless slam of her hips onto your skin taking a toll on your sense of awareness, you still took notice of the muted groan of pain leaving her lips amidst the struggling grunts and low moans she breathed out. Yet you could feel the undeniable twitch from her cock buried deep inside you out of pleasure.

"Why were you flirting with her?"

Tara cocked her head to the side, her voice still raspy and her breaths were hot and heavy. The pace of her thrusts slowed as she began to give deliberate and agonizing strokes with her dick as she toyed with you, her hips slowly thrusting inside of you so excruciatingly slow to the point you'd be better off at riding her cock until your cunt spasms so hard you couldn't cum anymore.

"I wasn't…" you panted desperately, the slow and deliberate movement of Tara's hips driving you insane. "I wasn't flirting… with… oh, fuck..!" You let out a guttural moan as you felt Tara pull out, almost to her tip, and slammed her cock back in your cervix with such force.

You threw your head back, eyes rolling while your mouth hung open to deliver a loud moan that echoed throughout, your back arching in response to her plowing her length inside of you once more.

Tara continued her relentless assault, though if not slower, your hands frantically going to your face, grabbing a handful of your hair as you subtly hid your face away from hers. Biting the flesh of your arm to hide the rather embarrassing and pathetic moans you kept producing.

"Who?" She leaned down, her hot yet soft lips giving you wet kisses all along your jaw as your muffled moans filled the room and her ears, "Who, baby?" she pressed all while your muffled whimpers filled the room, her hands going to your face and pulling your arms out of way. Her voice was soft, unlike the way she fucked you into insanity, acting as if she was the most innocent girl in the room.

"I don’t know.. I don’t know!" You sobbed, actual tears running down your face as Tara kept her tormenting pace. You couldn't think of anything anymore, let alone other people who are not Tara. Sentences just flowed out of you as if Tara controlled every inch of your brain. Your cunt soaked her dick with your wetness, the knot in your stomach tightening with every thrust.

"Please," you desperately pleaded, the words escaping with more neediness than you intended it to be. "Just, oh my god, let me cum!" You cried out as your body shook under her, ready for release, but you knew she wasn't going to give you that when she pulled out, a loud wince escaping your lips.

It took all your self-control not to pull her back with such force that her cock would immediately hit your cervix and you'd rut all over her until she was satisfied with you.

"Wha... Tara what the fuck!?"

You whined as you looked down, her dick still standing proudly at 7 inches with its thick girth, resting on her stomach, still hard and erect. So why the fuck did she pull out when you could've been on the verge of having the most jaw-dropping orgasm of your life.

The knot in your stomach eased slightly as Tara grabbed a handful of your hair, her head leaning down, "Here's what we're going to do, baby," she whispered against your lips, your need to slip your tongue into hers was just a fleeting thought.

Her dick twitched over your thigh, and you knew you looked like the hottest mess Tara had ever laid her eyes on, and the knowledge that your face looked like a fucked-up, cock-drunk, slut for Tara made your pussy throb.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard against that glass window," she continued, her voice low and husky as you looked over, "until all of New York hears how you're such a pathetic and filthy whore for my dick." She raised her free hand to cup your cheeks, caressing the soft and red skin you had from sobbing your heart out. "Then you're going to thank me for letting you cum on my cock while screaming my name."

If you weren't crazy then, then you were definitely going crazy now. You looked at Tara, doe eyes and all.

"Do you hear me, y/n?" She demanded, and you dumbly nodded in response.

"Mmh, yeah, yes please," you whimpered, your voice so desperate and needy as you dropped to your knees, gazing up at Tara who was already standing up, your hands almost reaching to wrap around her cock if not for her hand slapping it away. It was unfair she was half-clothed while you looked like you got railed every second. "I'll do what you want, anything, just let me cum, Tara…"

"There's that good girl I know." Tara purred, her simple approval and praise making you wet as ever. Her hands found your shoulders, turning you around to face away from her as you obeyed her silent orders.

You gave her the best possible view of your back, a perfect arch as your head was off to the side, all while offering her a glimpse of your exposed pussy.

You could feel her hands trailing down your back as your head faced forward, your eyes dropping down to the mattress. With a firm grip, she grabbed both of your wrists, tying them together with her hand while her other arm traveled back to your shoulder.

With your hands bound behind you, Tara led you towards the window, forcefully pressing your face against the cold and hard surface, the windowpane flushed on your skin. You could see every apartment that surrounded Tara's, lights turned on and some turned off, some maybe even watching the both of you.

You wouldn't be lying if you said it turned you on so much.

Tara's body was pressed onto yours, gasping for solid air as you felt the hard length of her clock sliding against your ass, its slow movement teased every inch of your body as the pleasure shot up from your spine.

"You won't mind if I use your phone, right?" She asked while you wondered how the hell she even got your phone in the first place in this position. But you didn't mind.

You weren't above filming a little video for her, especially when it came to something like sex. In fact, you have a dedicated folder solely for those kinds of videos, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a video of Tara screaming your name replaying in your head over and over as you fucked yourself to it.

And so, you nodded.

Oh, how you wished you hadn't.

Or rather, you wished you didn't immediately add the girls number in your contacts so quickly.

"Fucking hell," Tara murmured to herself which didn't go unnoticed by you. As well as the sounds of Tara dialing a number onto your phone.

Glancing over your shoulders, you found Tara standing right behind you. Her hand gripped her throbbing cock, teasing your slick folds while her gaze remained fixated on the ringing phone in her other hand.

"Tara, what are you—" you began, but before you could finish your sentence, Tara shoved her cock deep inside you with a force that left you more than breathless, penetrating your pussy so good that left you gasping for air as you cried out her name.

"Oh, God! Tara—Shit, Tara!" You screamed, your head throwing back as your fingers gripped the wall, "feels s' good, f-fuck!," you cursed, a perfect arch making its way to your spine while Tara fucked your juices back inside of you.

Her cock fit perfectly inside you, almost as if it was already molded to the shape of her dick precisely. Every vein, and every twitch of her shaft inside of you felt so familiar. Her balls repeatedly slapped your clit by her relentless pace, driving you to the brink of insanity by the touch alone. Every pleasure you felt shot down onto your cunt, hot and so fucking intoxicating.

You wanted to push her away, to catch a breath and your abused folds catch a breath, yet bring her deeper into your body, wanting and craving her more and more.

It felt so good to the point you didn't notice the 'hello, y/n?' that came from your phone.

"Hold it." Tara commanded of you, her body leaning down to yours, bringing your phone closer to your ear.

You looked at her, wide-eyed. Your lips and mind tempted to moan out her name as she kept pounding her cock inside of you if not for the abrupt phone call. "Tara…" you whimpered, "Tara, I-I can't—" your voice barely audible before her hand covered your mouth, muffling your moans when she gave you a hard thrust.

The pleasure she's giving you by simply moving and her still dick filling you up send shivers down your spine, yet the voice coming from your phone won't stop talking.

You took over Tara's hand from the phone, putting it up to your ear as you spoke quietly. "Yeah—sorry, he—hey!" You stammered, attempting to even get a coherent thought over your clouded mind while Tara continued assaulting your puffy pussy, "who, oh fuck, is this?"

"I'm the girl at the party, Cady! You do remember, right?"

You don't, really. It's all a blur.

You gasped, your head turning to the side as you tried to muffle your noises as quietly as possible, "yeah, yeah, I remember. Why—why, are you calling?"

The girl on the line laughed, chuckling even, "you called me. I didn't expect getting a call so easily after that conversation."

Please stop talking, you wanted to say.

You could feel Tara's jealousy and anger through the way her hands gripped your waist, her other hand delivering a sharp slap to your ass.

"I… I probably was—I was drunk," you stuttered, struggling to find the right words as your head ducked down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call," you breathed out, biting your lip to prevent a single whimper coming out of you.

"Well, you did," she replied, her tone teasing, laughing even more, "But I'm glad you did. We can pick up where we left off, if you know what I mean," You knew there was a sultry tone to her voice, probably even winking across the phone. "Is there someone in your room? I thought I heard something crash."

Tara leaned down, her grip on your hips tighter than ever, planting wet and sloppy along your shoulders to your ear, "You wanna tell them how good I'm fucking you, baby?" She whispered huskily, innocently kissing your cheeks as if she wasn't teasing you with another person on the other line.

"Wanna tell her how fucking good it feels to have my cock buried deep inside you?" She thrusted, her arms going to your shoulders and pushing your body deeper inside of her, "Tell her how you're begging for more, how you couldn't get enough of my dick?"

You were so glad you moved the phone just an inch away.

"I, oh my God, uhm, Tara—Tara!" You screamed out, a broken moan escaping your lips, hiding it by the fact you were mentioning her name, "yeah, Tara's here. Carpenter. She's, well, joining me for a simple exercise," you managed to reply, your voice shaky.

"Didn't know you guys were close."

"Yeah, we...uh, got closer recently," you stammered while Tara continued her relentless assault on your tight cunt, her cock plunging deep inside you, "we—oh shit—she lives with me so, yeah!"

You could hear Tara laugh at the half-assed excuse, probably the most common ones in the book.

Cady laughed through the phone once more, "I didn't mean to interrupt anything by picking up the phone, did I?"

"Cady, it's… It's fine," you managed to gasp, your voice strained with pleasure as Tara's relentless thrusts kept pounding into you harder and faster if it was even possible. "Oh, fuck!" You couldn't help but moan loudly, yet accidentally, the phone still pressed to your ear, as Tara leaned down once more and took over the phone, bringing it close to her ear as she let you grip the walls with such immense tightness.

"I'm sure y/n will forget you in a matter of seconds after this," she purred, "especially when she's getting fucked so good by me." She turned the phone around, enabling video on, letting Cady see your ass bouncing along her cock, her dick disappearing deep inside you and your back arching in pure ecstasy, "I almost pity you on how you'll never feel the never-ending pleasure of her pussy clenching around you."

She hung up before a single scream shouted from the phone, throwing it on the bed, "'m gonna cum, Tara. Baby, I'm gonna cum, Shit, shit,shitshitshitshitshit!"

Your body tensed, a knot forming in your lower abdomen as you cried out her name like a prayer, begging for a desperate release of being denied just moments ago. You could feel her hands gripping your hips even tighter, her grunts and little moans escaping her lips only drove you more into an orgasm,

Your moans filled the room, mixing with Tara's own gasps and the sound of skin slapping against skin, your wetness coating her dick. "Cum on me baby," she whispered, her fingers running across your hair as she threw your head back, "don't forget to do what I said."

"Tara! Oh, fuck, that feels so good!" Your walls clenched around her cock, your body trembling while you felt Tara's own climax shoot ropes of cum deep inside of you as she held you close, her arms wrapped around you as she came, "thank you..." You murmured, crying out, "thank you, baby, fuck your cock still feels so good inside me..."

The intense grip you had on the glass faltered, your legs giving way as you collapsed against the window, your body still shaking and your pussy tightening against Tara's twitching cock while you waited for her to empty her load inside of you, her hips still bucking while she caressed your skin, leaving a trail of kisses and words of affection down your neck.

"I love you..." she whispered against your skin, "you're gorgeous," she kissed, "such a good girl, y/n."

You nodded weakly, a smile covering your lips as you slid down the glass wall as Tara gently turned you around, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

"My pretty girl," Tara called out, softness in her voice while she tucking a loose strand behind your ear and wiping the tears away, "you did so well."

Tara cupped your cheek, all too evident that you were tired and exhausted, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin as she stared into your eyes. It was all too beautiful for Tara.

You started to wrap your arms on her shoulders, pulling her close while she laughs"I'll carry you to the bathroom, mkay? I'll draw you a bath and we can cuddle there."

You were too tired out to say or think of anything, so you opted with a nod.

Tara chuckled softly in your response, scooping you up in her oddly strong arms as she carried you to the bathroom, her touch now soft and comforting instead of harsh and cruel.

You didn't think the afterparty would turn out like this, but you were grateful it did.

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aftermath bonus:

Y: "are you still mad at me?" T: *shrug* "lost it within the three seconds we started making out" Y: "what the fuck tara?!"

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a/n: tara is the size of two apples tall (give or take), every possible bone in her body is fractured, probably losing blood by the minute, her shoesize is probably smaller than a rats AND the girl has asthma. it almost felt wrong writing her like this. off topic but i wished tumblr had a like comment thing for people like me that for some reason is too scared and shy to reply to you guys. I REALLY APPRECIATE THE COMMENTS, TRULY!! THEY MAKE MY DAY SM BETTER

#tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter smut #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader smut #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 6 months

Note

So uh I saw the words “human sized doll’ and my brain completely shut off. That sounds fucking delicious and I kindly ask you to elaborate. Are you able to move at all in your new body or are you just a silent thing for them to play with now? Do you have ball joints or are you not articulated beyond the basics? Does the doll look like how you used to when you were alive, or is it completely different? Do they just keep you in a pretty display case as their favorite prize, or do they leave you out so they can use you whenever they want???? My brain is on horny overdrive, I beg of you to give us more of Demon!141 and their little prize!!!!!

hello!! so here's how I think reader's life is after she's dead and get put into a doll! hope this can answer your questions and fulfill you hunger(?) :D Word Count: 1040 CW: 18+, mdni, humping, mention of double penetration, oral (m received), mention of death (not TF141), a bit of dark fic maybe? Demon!TF141 thoughts Reader becomes a demon instead

Your new body, to your surprise, isn’t that much different than your human one. You can talk, you have ball joints that allow you to move your limbs, and even you’re a doll now and you don’t think you will have mortal needs anymore, you still got genitals like humans. (You know why but you refuse to admit yet)

Usually, you aren’t confined and can move around the mansion you live in. They aren’t afraid of you escaping, the entire house is under their control, and they’re able to know where you are at any time, needless to say they have Soap who always insist on sticking around you. There rarely are visitors, sometimes Laswell or Nikolai will come to stay by, and you will sit on Price’s lap, listening to them chatting with his fingers drawing circles on your thigh, sitting quietly like a pretty thing you are.

You’ve asked Price what kind of doll they would put you in, he told you not to worry, so it was left as a secret until your afterlife. Now you get carried in Soap’s arm, who is standing in front of a mirror.

“Ye look divine, bonnie.”

Your new body looks totally the same as they first met you, from every birthmark to every mole. beautiful, flawless. That’s what you first heard when you opened your eyes in this new body.

The only difference is that now you have four men’s patterns on your wrist. The symbol of who you belong to.

You could move around by your own will, but not now, because every time you try to wriggle out of Soap’s grasp when he makes you stay in front of the mirror and look at yourself, so he makes you unable to move now by the power of agreement.

You can feel Soap trailing kisses down your neck, your eyes forced to stick on the mirror, watching yourself dressed in a sumptuous dress, strips of ribands draping down from the headband on your head, silky clothes bring out how your perfect skin shines under the dim light.

Soap’s lips touch the crook of your neck, and his diamond-blue eyes meet yours in the mirror.

“Let’s get ye to bed, aye?”

He picks you up, and the bound forbidding you from moving disappears when he looks at you staying obediently in his arms.

- - - - - -

When you're still alive, you are their master, but after you die, your soul belongs to them— especially Price. You knew this since the day you were forced to create a bond between you and them.

Which means you need to be submitted to all of their commands.

That’s why you are kneeling in front of Price now, his cock stuffing your mouth full without any gap.

“You’re doing so well, love.” His hands caressing your cheeks like he always did when you were still a human.

“We’re getting you a new body... fuck...!” He sucks in a gasp during his words when you take him in, until his tip hits the back of your throat “Miss how your beautiful face stain with tears when you’re sucking my cock, doll. They will finish it in a few days, can’t wait to see her face flush when you fuck her from behind, right Kyle?”

Your hands don’t stop when the man sitting behind you shuffles closer, and Gaz presses his chest against your back, if your mouth isn’t busy sucking Price’s shaft now, you sure you will moan loudly to Gaz’s voice, who’s groaning directly into your ear while he stroking his leaking cock.

“‘f course, capt.” Gaz replies, and now he starts humping his hips against your ass. The nightgown they put on you gets ripped to pieces by him, but it’s not a big issue, there’s tons of dresses in the closet, and they could make you wear whatever they want.

Both men laugh when they see you rub your thighs together.

“Too needy under Kyle’s voice, eh?” Price chuckles, and you immediately back off when an “off” leaves his mouth, and without any request, you spontaneously sit on Price’s lap, his tip nuzzling at your folds.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you, baby.” A pair of hands maneuver your hips higher. Gaz coos softly as his shaft prods at your other hole.

You know the night is going to be very long when they push into you simultaneously.

- - - - - -

You wake up when you feel someone’s playing with your hair. The light’s too bright for your hazy mind, so you narrow your eyes instantly.

The person holding you in their bosom shifts, and the room becomes darker.

Now you’re able to see who you’re lying on.

“Ghost.” you murmur.

The masked man lets out a hum in recognition. Ghost’s hand is still fiddling with your hair, fingers threading through them and massaging your head.

“Where's the others?”

“They went to take yer new body.”

You look into his brown eyes, and he doesn’t avoid meeting your gaze.

You swear to God that you hear someone arguing distantly, but you don’t question Ghost, staying unmove on his body.

Ghost’s fingers now trace down to your face, caressing your chin like you’re a cat or some animal, his stares at your face, like he’s taking in any detail and engraving them in his heart.

His heart beats steadily, as if it’s a march song. Ghost’s expression is too serious, you can’t dare to interrupt him, so you count his heartbeat instead.

The quarrel outside becomes louder, and Ghost takes a glimpse at the door, then he speaks again.

“You must be tired, love, go back to sleep, yeah?”

You aren’t tired by any means, you just woke up from your slumber, but suddenly, all your energy flows out your limbs as Ghost croons with his low voice.

You let out a big yawn, and before you fall asleep, you ask him again.

“When will they come back?”

“They’re almost done. They just need to make sure your new body’s alright.” Ghost holds you tighter, the noises outside muffled when he covers your ears with his hands. “Now sleep, good girl.”

Nodding and burying your face in Ghost's chest, you drift into a peaceful dream, unlike the tragic scream piercing through the air outside the window.

what I hc is: Doll!reader’s first body can’t cry/blush/form natural lubes(?)/bleed etc. (yeah they forgot to make her able to), so they make her a second one which is more similar to human, but the joints are still ball joints. (if there’s any bug it’s 100% because I didn’t think that far, pls tell me lol!)

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hellodarling1357 · 8 months

Note

#26 for the Cassian thing where reader is an IC member too and maybe them and Cassian have been seeing each other in secret for a while but Cass doesn't wanna tell anyone yet because he doesn't wanna mess up the dynamic or make things awkward for the rest of them but then all the stuff happens and Nesta comes along and reader's just sad and pissed because they're worried Cass is in love with Nesta now and secret plot twist oh no reader knows them and Cass are mates but it hasn't snapped for him yet so reader is losing it inside but obviously they can't tell any of their closest friends because Cassian still wants it to be a secret

even if you don't want to write this I hope you're having a great day/night ✩

Forever Tied - Cassian x Reader

Hello hello 🥰

The original prompt list I reblogged has disappeared for some reason so now I have no idea what #26 actually was but I did my best with the request you sent me so hopefully this still works, sorry Anon! I've made it extra long to make up for it!

Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 9.3k

Rhys was trapped Under the Mountain and there was nothing you could do to help. You had crumbled upon hearing his voice in your mind that last time, having no idea what this meant for your friend, your court, or even for Prythian. You hadn’t even realised you had fallen to your knees until a familiar, warm body had knelt next to you and pulled you into their shaking arms.

Cassian had been in the city centre of Velaris when he had heard, all plans for the day disappearing as the realisation of what had happened hit him full blast. Without thinking, he flew back to the House of Wind, unable and unwilling to process this alone. Although, subconsciously, there was really only one person he wanted to be with in that moment. Azriel would have distanced himself upon hearing the news, Amren was at her apartment, and Mor was at the town house, leaving only you in the House of Wind.

He stumbled in his rush as he landed on the balcony and raced inside. His heart broke even further at the sounds of muffled sobs that echoed towards him. In a blind haze he followed the sounds and found you on the ground, as though your legs had completely given out, unable to bare the weight of what had occurred. Without thinking, Cassian was beside you, pulling you into his arms as he rubbed soothing circles across your back, despite the way his own hands shook as tears threatened to burn at his eyes.

Your breathing eventually evened out, the only trace of your tears were the tracks along your cheeks and the redness of your eyes. Turning in his arms, you looked up at Cassian as though only just properly noticing that he was the comforting, warm presence that brought you back from your distressed state.

“We have to do something,” Your voice was a croaked whisper, “I know he said he put up a shield, but there has to be something we can do to help.”

The shaky inhale of Cassian’s breath told you enough. He didn’t think there was anything that could be done. Truthfully, you didn’t either.

You looked at your friend in awe as a singular tear streaked down his face, followed by another, and another. In all the centuries you had been friends, the sight of the male in front of you crying was one you had very rarely witnessed.

“Cass,” You lifted a hand to his face, gently brushing away his tears. Cassian was always the one who held everyone and everything together, and if this was the one time he openly showed he needed someone else to keep from falling apart, you would more than willingly be that person for him. “It’s going to be okay, alright? We’ll figure something out. And Rhys… well, it’s Rhys. He’s going to be just fine.”

The watery smile you gave him didn’t quite meet your eyes, the expression quickly replaced with alarm as Cassian’s breathing quickened, eyes screwed shut as though trying to compose himself. This you had never seen. Cassian completely losing control, his body shaking against yours as sobs escaped his throat.

“He’s gone,” The strangled sound that came from him had your heart splitting in two. “Amarantha, she will…she’s already…” He couldn’t seem to find the words, or couldn’t bear the thought of saying what was running through his head with Amarantha being involved.

“We’ll get him back.” You soothed, hands reaching up as you guided his head into the crook of your neck, fingers running through his dark wave of hair.

But he wasn’t calming, if anything, Cassian found himself spiralling further and further out of control, the emotions and the ‘what ifs’ sending him into a state of panic where even your comforting presence could do nothing to sooth his hyperventilating breaths, the tears, and the shaking that racked through him.

“Cass?” You pulled back, trying to force him to look at you. “Cassian? Hey, I need you to open your eyes, just focus on me, okay? There you go. Now just take in one deep breathe, alright? Just one, that’s all I need you to do. Okay, and again. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

Cassian’s hazel eyes stared into yours as you talked him through his breathing, your hands soothingly moving up and down his arms as you knelt in front of him and offered a comforting smile as you watched his panic slowly ebb away.

“Y/N, I—" Cassian started, eyes wide as he gulped and continued staring at you. Before you could blink or react in anyway, he was surging forward; one hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, the other was gently placed on your thigh, and then his lips were hurriedly pressed against yours. You stilled and tensed in his grasp, it was all too much after everything else that had happened, but still… Maybe a distraction is what you both needed. So instead of pulling away, you leant into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him even closer, and kissing him back with such an urgency that a moan sounded in the back of his throat.

“Y/N,” he muttered against your lips, forehead resting against your own, his breath brushing across your face as it came out in heavy pants.

You just shushed him, also refusing to move too far away. “I know, it’s fine. Just a distraction.”

He looked at you for one more blink and then hungrily pressed against you, this time lowering you to the floor, his muscled body hovering over yours as you lost yourselves in the moment, desperate to forget what had happened and all that was yet to transpire.

*****

Afterwards, you lay on the floor next to one another in the, now dark, room. The combination of your heavy breathes were the only sounds that broke through the silence.

Cassian let out a sigh followed by a chuckle, “Well that was one hell of a distraction.”

You turned your head to look at him and let out a quiet, breathless laugh. Yes, it had been a momentary distraction but now what had happened to Rhys, to Prythian, hung heavy in the room. Cassian turned on his side, leaning up on one arm as he faced you, taking in your still flushed, blissed out expression that now had something akin to pain creeping across it.

“Hey,” He gently grabbed your hand and soothed his thumb across the back of it. “Like you said, we’re alright. And we will get him back.”

You nodded at him then pulled yourself up, tugging your shirt back on before throwing Cassian his discarded clothes.

“Come on, we should find the others. Try to figure something out.”

*****

And that was that.

There was no mention of what had happened between the two of you. No comment on the fact that it had been, without a doubt, and despite the current situation you found yourselves in, the best sex either of you had ever had.

No, even when it happened again three weeks later, and then one week after that, and four days after that, again, and again, and again, it remained an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That momentary distraction where you could lose yourselves in the pleasure of one another and forget about the mess you were left to deal with.

That was how it worked for the next few years. You and Cassian falling into a routine of comfort that you were unable, unwilling, to get from anyone else. You had no idea if the rest of the Inner Circle were aware of what was going on; in terms of your friendship, nothing had changed, there were just additional benefits that came with it now. It didn’t mean anything more.

That is, of course, until your routine had morphed into something that felt like it was on the precipice of something else.

The sex was just as mind-blowingly passionate, however, there were now some instances where it was a bit slower and less frantic, more whispered words and lingering touches. Where the two of you used to chat afterwards, an arm’s worth of distance between you as you slipped back into your normal friendship until the other one left to return to their own room, you now found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, hands softly caressing skin until you both drifted into a restful sleep.

Which is where you now found yourself; wrapped up in Cassian’s arms as he softly snored against you, hand tightly holding onto yours and legs tangled together. You eased out of his grasp, careful not to disturb him and lent against the headboard with a sigh. Usually, you would wake the next morning, offer a small smile, then get on with your day, Rhys’ absence still a clear focus for you all. However, lately you had found yourself letting your mind drift more and more, especially in moments like these where Cassian was still beside you and the bubble you lost yourselves in was yet to be broken.

Each and every time you hated yourself for it, guilt taking over until you forcefully pushed the thoughts away, but you couldn’t help but think that, at some point, you all needed to continue your lives and break away from the standstill existence you had been in since Amarantha took over.

You would never say it out loud, but as the years went on, you had lost all hope of ever getting Rhys back. And if that were the case, and as much as you wished it weren’t, at some point you had to start living for yourselves again. Deep down, in the dark and quiet moments when you awoke and the house was fast asleep, you knew exactly what you wanted that life to look like.

You let out another sigh and looked at Cassian, softly brushing some stray hair away from his face and taking the time to really study his sleep-softened features. You hadn’t meant for it to get this far, but after centuries of friendship, and now the years of intimacy you had shared, the love you felt for Cassian had grown and taken form into a whole different avenue of affection. You were in love with him. You loved him and your heart ached at the thought of it because if you allowed yourself this one bit of happiness into your life, the solidarity and support that Cassian provided, then you couldn’t help but think of it as forgetting about Rhys and the torture he had been enduring whilst you were slowly and deeply falling head over heels with one of your best friends.

The worst part of it was that you were certain Cassian felt the same way about you. The way he held you and touched you, the words he whispered into your ear as you were both tangled, panting messes and then the dazed murmurings that were uttered into the silence afterwards, the longing glances he would give you when the others weren’t looking…

What had started as a desperate distraction and pure, physical need had grown into something so much more meaningful and intimate. And yet you both refused to acknowledge that it was anything other than sex as a means to cope with the instability in your lives.

“Hey,” You hadn’t realised Cassian had stirred, his gruff, sleep-filled voice tearing you away from your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Your expression pulled in confusion at the sudden worry in his voice as he sat up and grasped your hand. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

It wasn’t until his fingers were reaching up to brush away the tears on your cheeks that you realised you had been silently crying.

“I… I don’t know.” You said with a slight sniffle.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cassian pulled you into his lap, your head resting on his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of your head and rubbed soothing patterns across your back. The unfairness of the situation had you stifling a small sob, Cassian’s embrace reminding you of exactly what you were missing.

“Want to talk about it?” He murmured into your hair, followed by another kiss.

Whether it was the build-up of emotions or your complete and utter exhaustion, you didn’t know and didn’t care. You sat up in Cassian’s arms, desperately looking for any form of confirmation that what you were about to say wouldn’t ruin everything, then took a deep breath.

“This…whatever this is between us, I can’t keep doing it. Not how it is now,” You were too caught up to notice the heartbroken expression that flashed across his face.

Cassian had willingly fallen into this arrangement and would happily continue to do so if it meant he could pretend, even for just a few hours a day, that you were his, and he was yours. There had always been a part of him that had been completely and utterly in love with you. And then when he found out Rhys had been trapped by Amarantha, his emotions had been a surging mess, so he acted on instinct and a selfish need for the upmost form of comfort and risked it all by kissing you. Now the thought that this one bit of joy he allowed himself was being ripped away, another thing he would be losing, sent his heart racing as he waited for the final blow of your words.

“It hurts too much.” You continued, looking down at your intertwined hands before pulling away.

Cassian looked up at you in confusion, “What hurts too much?”

“This. Us,” A shaky laugh escaped you as you gestured to the empty space between you, throwing all caution to the wind as you said, “I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t anything more than a distraction. Not when I have fallen so deeply in love with you that the thought of never…”

You were cut off by Cassian all but picking you up and kissing you with such passion that you couldn’t stop your toes from curling or the small whimper that escaped your throat.

“You love me?” His voice was breathless and gravelly, barely above a whisper. You opened your eyes, his forehead rested against yours, eyes squeezed shut as though trying to hold onto the moment.

“Yes.”

A joyful laugh sounded from him and reverberated through you as his lips found yours again, tongue trailing along your bottom lip before you parted them for him.

Your mind was racing yet you couldn’t form a coherent thought, pulling away in a desperate attempt to catch your breath.

“Good.”

“Cass?”

“Good. Because I have loved you since we first met and I can’t lose you, not now.”

You grinned at him before pulling his face down to meet yours and slamming your lips to his. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, he had been starting to feel something that was more than friendship too. But the idea of him loving you for that long made your heart skip a beat and had butterflies fluttering up a storm in your stomach.

“I feel horrible,” You admitted, quick to clarify at the affronted look Cassian gave you. “It just feels wrong, like we’re betraying Rhys. We don’t…we don’t even know if he is alive, Cass. I want this, with you, more than anything. But it doesn’t feel right while everything is so…” You trailed off, unable to meet his gaze as Cassian watched you with a look of contemplation.

“So we don’t say anything. We can keep it between us, at least for now. We’ve gotten this far without the others asking questions. I love you, so much, and as much as I want everyone to know, I get what you mean. So we don’t say anything until we get him back. And we will get him back, I know we will. Alright?" You nodded; eyes wide as you grasped his calloused hands in yours.

“Besides, I basically sleep here every night anyway. Nothing will really change between us, just that I can now tell you and show you that I love you, instead of having to force the words down every time you so much as look at me.” A blush spread across your cheeks at his words and the wink that followed, but you didn’t care to hide it, instead simply giving him a dazzling smile that sent his heart racing.

He pulled you in for another kiss, murmuring “I love you” as he guided you back down onto the mattress.

“I love you too—" But a loud yawn escaped your mouth, cutting off the rest of your words and sending you into a small fit of giggles.

“Alright, we’ll continue this tomorrow,” Cassian now laughed with you. “Come on, it’s late. Get some sleep.”

You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his chest, the comforting and familiar scent had you drifting off in a matter of minutes.

*****

Cassian had been right, not a lot in your dynamic had changed over the years after that night, other than the giddying comfort of knowing that he was yours, and you were his. You weren’t foolish enough to think that the others hadn’t picked up on the slight shift, especially when Cassian had waltzed out of your room one morning only to come face to face with Azriel. You just assumed that they thought you were sleeping together, nothing more.

Then when Rhys returned, you had been, obviously, overjoyed. Not wanting to bombard him with too much on his first night back, you and Cassian had decided later that night once you were back in your room, to hold off on saying anything about your relationship until Rhys had settled back in.

Then everything else had happened.

The arrival of Feyre and her sisters. Hybern and the cauldron. The war and near fatal injuries spread throughout your tight-knit group. It was all too much.

You and Cassian had been discussing back and forth for months: do you tell them or keep hiding it. Ultimately, keeping your relationship secret is what you always landed on. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were just finding excuses at this point to keep yourselves in your happy little bubble when so much threated to burst it.

Initially, you hadn’t wanted to rub your relationship in Rhys’ face when he was so clearly pining after Feyre who wanted nothing to do with him. Then their mating bond clicked, and you didn’t want to take away or overshadow their happiness with your own. The threat from Hybern felt like you would be playing with fire; if the King of Hybern found out… it was too great a risk when your enemies could use it against you.

Between it all, you still found time to be together; not once did the love you felt for one another falter. But with each excuse, and with each passing month, the decision wore on you more and more.

And then Rhys asked Cassian to take on Nesta.

You felt for her, you really did, but the time and energy Cassian put into helping her had a pit forming in your stomach. At the end of each day, when you were tucked tightly into his chest and his sweet nothings were whispered across your bare skin, you felt silly for ever thinking that he was losing interest in you. Yet, that feeling lingered just that little bit longer with each passing day and with each moment spent away from him when he was, instead, occupied with her.

*****

You had been away in the Summer Court the night that Nesta had hallucinated about being back in the cauldron. After you finished reporting to Rhys upon your return the following night, he had told you what had happened with her silver flames and how Cassian had managed to bring her out of it. With worry for all of them, you got back to the House of Wind as soon as you could but couldn’t find Cassian, Azriel, or Nesta anywhere. It wasn’t until later when you were getting ready for bed that there was a knock on your bedroom door. What you didn’t expect was to find Cassian on the other side of it, you weren’t sure why he suddenly decided to start knocking on the door to the room you had shared for the past 50 years.

With a quizzical look you pulled him inside the room and lent up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him instantly wrapping his arms around your frame to pull you in tighter against him.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, trailing lingering kisses down your neck that had a soft moan escaping you.

“I missed you. Rhys told me what happened here, are you alright? Is Nesta?”

Cassian pulled back, pressing another kiss to your lips then the tip of your nose before grabbing your hands and leading you to the couch by the fireplace.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” You remained silent, your doubt erupting in you as you waited for him to continue with bated breath. “We moved her to a closer room, next door to our, your, room, so that if something like that happens again one of us will know straight away.”

Cassian pulled back slightly, studying your features as though waiting for a reaction. You expression remained impassive; you could feel the other shoe about to drop and wanted him to tell you without beating around the bush.

“But,” He sighed, lifting your hand up and pressing a kiss to it, “I think, just for now, at least until things calm down a bit, I should go back to sleeping in my old room.”

“No.”

“Y/N – “

“No, Cassian,” You were shaking your head at him, not caring if you sounded needy or whiny or any of it. “This is the only time we can just be us. It’s already hard enough with keeping it a secret from everyone, I can’t lose this.”

“We decided, together, to keep this between us, there’s too much going on. And I don’t think Nesta will appreciate hearing us through the walls…” You cut him off with a scoff.

“Are you fucking serious, Cass? Are you worried about everyone finding out, or are you worried about Nesta finding out?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I never get to see you because you’re always with her. And now, because of her again, everything that our relationship is needs to go on hold? It’s not fair that after 50 years all I get is a few hours at the end of the day and to be kept your secret from everyone we care about.” You spat the word, all your emotions and fears finally bubbling over, however irrational they may be, but you had had enough.

“Sweetheart, we agreed that it’s for the best that we keep this between ourselves – “

“Well, I don’t agree anymore, Cass. I don’t want it like this. And don’t condescend me.” Your voice had a sharp snap to it. You needed something. Needed something other than the heartbreak that you could feel fast approaching; and a fight sounded like the next best thing.

“I’m not being condescending,” You could sense Cassian’s temper rising. “You can’t suddenly be angry because you’ve changed your mind without saying anything to me. And Nesta has nothing to do with this, it’s for...”

But the rest of his words became a blur at the sudden, incessant tug that pulled at your chest; that pulled you towards the male in front of you.

He was your mate.

Cassian was your mate.

You couldn’t do this, not now when you were in the middle of a fight. Not when Cassian didn’t even seem to be aware – or seem to care, a small voice taunted – of what had just happened. You needed to get away from him, to calm down and think before it could get even more out of hand.

“Cassian, just… Whatever, it’s fine. I’m tired, so just go back to your room, okay? We’ll figure the rest out later. I’m just…tired.” You finished lamely, voice cracking slightly as you watched him look you over, his frustration still evident, before walking out and loudly shutting the door behind him.

You slumped down, holding your knees to your chest as the sobs began. You had thought, had hoped, that Cassian was your mate. But this wasn’t how it was meant to go. Not mid-fight, with him having no idea of the bond’s existence while telling you he no longer wants to share your bed.

Having been so caught up in your thoughts and the overflooding emotions, you missed the flickering of shadows that darted around you. Moments later there was another knock on your door. Wiping your eyes, you called out in a chocked voice, “come in,” assuming it was Cassian.

Instead, Azriel quickly opened the door, closing it just as fast, before taking in the sight before him and making his way over to you.

“Y/N?” You could only sniffle in response, gratefully leaning against his side when his arm wrapped around you. “You alright?”

You remained silent for a few minutes, focusing on Azriel’s comforting hand brushing up and down your arm as you worked to control your breathing and halt your tears.

“I’m fine.” Your voice was hoarse and not at all convincing.

“Want to try that again?” You sent your elbow into his ribs, making the Shadowsinger chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

With a sigh he asked, “This has nothing to do with the fact that Cassian is suddenly sleeping in his room for the first time in, what? 50 years?”

You gaped up at your friend in shock and at a loss for words.

“You knew?

“Of course I knew. I live here too, remember? As subtle as you might think you’re being, I’ve got these,” His shadows danced around, reminding you that it was stupid to even entertain the idea that Azriel wouldn’t know.

“Oh,” A fresh set of tears filled your eyes and you stared intently into the flickering fire.

“Can you please take me to the town house? I don’t… I can’t be here.” Despite the late hour, you knew he would do anything for you in a heartbeat. While you and Cassian had been friends for decades before anything more had happened, you and Az had been close from the start, instant friends as soon as you had met.

“Of course.”

He waited for you by your bedroom door as you pulled together a small bag of your belongings, not knowing when you would be back.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You didn’t turn to give the room that held so many memories a final glance as you shut the door behind you and followed Azriel out onto the balcony.

*****

Thankfully, the town house was dark and empty when you arrived, giving you the space and silence to process your thoughts and feelings. You had thanked Azriel for flying you over and had said a quick goodnight before you walked inside and headed upstairs.

Sitting on your bed, you vacantly stared at the wall, lost in thought as the minutes ticked by. You jumped at the sudden dip of the mattress beside you, only to find Azriel sitting there fixing you with a look of concern, a steaming cup of tea extended towards you.

“Thanks,” You murmured, taking a sip and revelling in the slight burn as the liquid went down your throat. “I thought you went home.”

“Not yet. Didn’t want to leave you alone like this.” There was a beat of silence before, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,”

You let out a weary sigh, content on sitting in silence but your thoughts quickly became too much, and you found yourself blurting out, “He’s my mate.”

Azriel whipped around to face you, shock coating his features.

“What? They didn’t tell you?” You gestured to the shadows that skittered around him with a sad smile.

“For how long? I thought you were just sleeping together.” He trailed off, giving you an uncharacteristically sheepish expression as you let out a somewhat bitter laugh.

“It started that way, when Rhys…left,” You whispered, revelling in finally telling someone even though it may well be over. “It was a distraction from the shit show that was going on, but then it just kept happening.” Azriel remained silent, letting you talk.

“A few years in, I realised I had fallen in love with him,” you voice cracked but you kept going, “Then he told me he loved me too. Said he had for a while.”

Azriel chuckled lightly, “That’s an understatement. He was infatuated with you from the moment you met. I knew something was going on or something had at least happened when he suddenly stopped talking to me about you whenever you weren’t there.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks at his words, but with a look and a comforting squeeze of his hand, you let out a shuddering breath and continued, “That was five years into Rhys being gone, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Five years into… But Y/N, how? That means for over 45 years, the two of you have been…” You sniffed as he put the math together and watched as his eyes widened at the realisation. “How come you never told us?”

“We felt guilty that we found some type of happiness together when Rhys was trapped – “

“He wouldn’t have cared. He would have been happy for you; for both of you” Azriel interjected.

“I know,” You smiled sadly, “But it just didn’t feel right. And then he got back, and everything with Feyre and Hybern happened – it was never the right time.”

You could tell he was still confused, hurt even, about the two of you keeping your relationship private for so long, but he didn’t push you.

“I don’t know how I missed it.” He said, seemingly to himself.

“You only half missed it,” You joked, nudging his arm to try to ease the tension in the room. “We tried to act the same, things were just different when we were alone.”

“When did you realise you were mates?” You inhaled sharply, your earlier fight rushing back to you.

“Tonight. We were arguing and I just felt this tug and knew. He doesn’t know – at least I don’t think he knows.” You voiced your doubts, the weight of them getting the better of you.

“If he knew, he would refuse to leave your side. It just hasn’t snapped into place for him yet.” You gave your friend an appreciative smile and lent your head on his shoulder.

“I’m so tired.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll come back in the morning to check on you. You’re alright here?”

“Thanks Az.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaving the room; leaving you alone to finally mull over the fight, your emotions, and the fact that Cassian was your mate.

*****

“What’s up with you?” Mor plopped into the seat beside you, handing you a glass of wine that you gratefully took.

“Nothing,” You quickly murmured as the others traipsed into the dining room. You were aware of Cassian edging towards you and held in a sigh of relief when Azriel suddenly appeared in the seat on your other side.

It had been a week since you left the House of Wind to stay at the town house. A week since your fight with Cassian when you realised exactly what he was to you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye. Despite his best efforts to get you alone over the past few days, you conveniently managed to slip away every time. Tonight’s family dinner was the closest you had been to him all week, the realisation only making your longing for him even more dire – especially now that you were aware of that insistent tug that pulled you towards him.

Dinner was no different to how it usually went, except for the fact that you hardly said a word, opting to keep your eyes focused on the food in front of you. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice that Cassian also didn’t utter a single word throughout the meal, the only difference between you both was that his eyes were fixed on you, not his plate.

You jumped up as soon as everyone had finished eating, wanting to help clear the plates so you could get out and go home as soon as possible, not wanting to prolong the night for any longer than it needed to be. Too bad for you, Cassian was acutely attuned to your movements and jumped out of his seat seconds after to help in a desperate attempt to have at least one moment to talk to you.

Filling the sink with hot, soapy water, you sensed, rather than saw, Cassian follow you into the kitchen, body tensing up as he silently walked to your side. You worked in silence, scrapping dishes, washing plates, drying, and putting away. Cassian’s eyes were fixed on you, brows furrowing further with every passing moment you continued to ignore him.

“Y/N,” His voice was quiet, unsure. So different to his usual tone that it had you involuntarily turning to face him. Your heart stammered in your chest, the longing and hurt and confusion that had been tearing you apart in your time away from him threatened to burst as you finally met his hazel stare. “Are you… Are we okay? You just left and I had to find out from Az that you’re staying at the town house and now you can barely even look at me.”

His words came out hurried, frantic, as though if he spoke any slower you would disappear. Guilt flooded you at the hurt you found in his eyes, but your anger was still very much present, the lingering fear of him choosing Nesta over you held too strong for you to succumb to those feelings of guilt.

“I just need some time.” Voice barely above a whisper, you inwardly cursed as your vision blurred over with tears.

“Time for what? Y/N I don’t know what’s going on–”

“You both okay?”

Neither you nor Cassian heard Azriel approach, both turning to gape at your friend who hesitantly stood in the doorway.

“Fine. Just fine.” You pushed past him on your way out, not giving Cassian a second glance as you entered the spacious loungeroom to say goodnight to everyone. A few moments later the pair walked in after you, you missed the loaded glances they shared, not privy to the hurried conversation they had after you left the kitchen where Cassian had all but begged Azriel to intervene, to allow him the chance to finally talk to you.

“Hey, Y/N?” You turned to look expectantly at Azriel. “Did you still need me to fly you up to the House of Wind for that book?”

“Oh. Yeah, if that’s alright?” In your rush to get away the night you left you had forgotten to pack the next book you had been planning to read.

“Does tonight work? If you’re just about to head off…”

“Sure, I was just going to go…home.” Your voice trailed at the end, willing the blush away as you kept your head held high. You felt as though you didn’t know what home was anymore.

“Great, Cassian was just about to leave as well. He’ll take you up there.” With a clap to Cassian’s shoulder, Azriel sauntered over to where Rhys and Amren were talking, brushing off their questioning glances as he pointedly ignored you, allowing no room for dispute.

“Oh…”

“Is that alright?” You tensed at Cassian’s voice, glancing over your shoulder to find his wary eyes on you. It wasn’t like you could say no, it was not alright, without making a scene. You would be having words with Azriel the next time you saw him; judging by the slight smirk he was wearing, he seemed to assume just as much.

“Erm, yes. If that’s okay?” Cassian simply nodded before gesturing to the front door and, after another quick goodbye to everyone, you found yourselves outside. Another fumbled moment, then you were held tightly in Cassian’s arms with the rush of the crisp night air and an uncomfortable silence engulfing you both as he flew you towards the House of Wind.

You couldn’t stand the awkwardness. It had never been like this between the two of you and you hated that this is what it had come to. The relationship you shared, whether that be friendship or more, it had always come so naturally. Now you were faced with a stilted, tense atmosphere, not quite knowing what to say or where you stood. Then there had been the fight. Sure, you had argued before, after decades of knowing each other, you were bound to come into some disagreements along the way. But you had never had a fight like this, where you had both been so riled up, fuming at the other to the point where you had both stormed away and then not spoken for days. You hated it.

So caught up in your thoughts, you missed the slight detour Cassian was taking you on, only noticing once you were placed back on your feet and found yourself in the middle of the training ring, rather than the usual balcony that led into the house itself.

“What…”

“We’re hashing this out. Right now.”

“You want to…fight?”

“What?” Cassian did a double take, as if just connecting the location with why you would think that. “No, I don’t want to fight. That’s the problem, we are fighting. This just seemed like the most private place to work things out.”

You eyed him hesitantly, not knowing what you wanted your next step to be, especially when the urge to wrap your arms around him and inhale the scent that was so him, the scent that had become home, was so strong.

“So, words or swords?” Your eyes snapped to Cassian as he fiddled with the one of the discarded swords you usually sparred with.

Words

You wanted words. To talk this all out and be done with it, whichever way that turned out to be. But then an image flashed across your mind; an image of Cassian standing up here with Nesta, hands guiding her into the correct form, fingers shifting along her own to straighten her hold on the blade…

Without a single word, you walked to where Cassian was and hauled your own blade up.

“Okay then.” There was a slight smirk on Cassian’s face as he followed behind you into the centre of the training ring. The quirk of his eyebrow was all you needed before you were moving towards him, swords meeting with a clash that pierced the night.

You didn’t think about the moves you were making, giving way to centuries of refined and well-practiced instinct. Cassian was stronger, you knew he would hold out for longer, but you were well matched for now. Both of your foreheads started to sheen in sweat, pants of exertion echoed alongside the clank and clash of swords, and as you moved around and against one another, you finally let out all of your pent-up emotions until you had nothing left.

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” You gasped before dropping the sword and falling to your knees, tears streamed down your face at the sudden emotional outlet. Cassian was by your side in an instant, his sword dropped to the ground in a ricochetting crash.

“Y/N,” His voice was alert, on-edge, eyes dancing over you as he tried to work out what was wrong. “Are you hurt?” The frantic tone now had sobs racking from your chest, shaking your head you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried and cried and cried. Without a second thought, Cassian had his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as he softly caressed your back and whispered soothing words into your ear.

He stayed silent, giving you the time and space to calm down and filter through your thoughts. Not once rushing you or demanding answers after a week of uncertainty.

“I’m sorry, Cass. I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I just…” At least you managed to get a few words out before you were overcome with tears once again. You weren’t sure what they were for at this point with so many thoughts and scenarios racing through your head: the fight, Cassian being your mate, Cassian getting close with Nesta, Cassian leaving you, Cassian leaving you for Nesta, and then you being forced to watch them be together, knowing you couldn’t stand the thought of him not being in your life, in whatever capacity you were granted.

“Shhh,” He soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he softly rocked you back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

With a deep breath, you nodded against his chest in an attempt to compose yourself. Noting in the position you were in, you could have laughed if you weren’t feeling so empty and deflated; this is how you had both gotten into this in the first place, all those years ago when you thought you would never see Rhys again – both of you with your arms around each other, crying and saying everything was going to be okay. Only this time, you weren’t so sure if the strength of your relationship would hold.

“Please, talk to me, Y/N. What’s going through that head of yours.”

You couldn’t take not knowing what was going to happen any longer. So with a final sniffle, you leant back, sitting on the ground beside him and pulling your knees up to your chest as you held your arms tightly around yourself.

“I don’t know where to start…”

“What about when you decided you wanted the others to know?” There was no malice in his voice, only gentle concern that prodded you to continue.

“I’ve always wanted the others to know,” You ignored Cassian’s slight indignation, “But it was never the right time, what with everything that was happening then, and everything that’s happened since. It felt like the right decision at the time, it felt safe. It was nice knowing that this was just for us when so much was going wrong. But I want to be with you outside of our room. I want to be able to hold your hand and walk through Velaris, kiss you in front of our friends, not pretend that you don’t mean the world to me, because you do Cassian.”

He remained quiet, letting you talk and giving you the space to get everything off your chest but the lingering presence of his hand drawing soothing circles across your back had you feeling grounded. “I love you and the thought of losing you has been tearing me apart.” You winced at the tremor in your voice, gaze fixed on the ground in front of you.

You didn’t dare mention the fact that you were mates. Not yet. He deserved the chance to properly say what needed to be said, without the cauldron’s interference tying him down if he did, in fact, want to leave.

“Why do you think you’re losing me?” Cassian’s voice was quiet and contemplative, as though processing everything you had said but not quite connecting the dots. The kiss to the side of your head had you inhaling a shaky breath and you forced yourself to will away the tears that threatened to spill.

“We’ve been so distant lately; we never get to see each other. And, look, I know it’s for Rhys, but I’m away all the time, and you’re always with Nesta. Then the other night when you said you didn’t want to share our room anymore, and that you were afraid she would find out… I don’t know, I guess it all just became too much.” You could feel his eyes on you but the blush burning your cheeks had you refusing to meet his gaze.

A moment later, Cassian softly said, “I never said I didn’t want to share a room with you, believe me, I want to spend every moment I can with you–” You made a noise of protest, but Cassian gently shushed you before continuing. “But Rhys and Feyre need Nesta to be okay and he’s given that job to me. I should’ve spoken to you about it first or explained it better when I said I was going to sleep in my old room. But you saw what Nesta was like before we got her up here, I didn’t think her seeing, or hearing, us together would be all that helpful – especially when she was using sex as a way to cope with everything.”

“Oh…” You felt stupid. Stupid and selfish and completely undeserving of the amazing, considerate male beside you.

“And,” Cassan continued with a playful nudge of his shoulder, “You have no idea how much I want everyone to know about us. No idea how hard it has been to not tell everyone that this amazing, brilliant, strong, kind female is mine. And just how hard it has been seeing other males so much as look at you without being able to say anything to them.”

You still couldn’t tear your eyes from the ground in front of you, but Cassian noticed the soft smile tugging at your lips.

“Cauldron, if you want, I can fly us back to the River House right now. We can tell everyone exactly what’s been going on, you can kiss me in front of all of our friends then we can go into Velaris, I’ll even let you hold my hand as we walk around.” Another playful nudge had you softly chuckling, eyes finally darting over to look at Cassian. Your heart faltered at the expression on his face, the complete love and adoration that laced his features as he watched you, his own mouth pulling into a smile at the laugh he managed to pull from you.

“Yeah?” Your voice was still slightly hoarse from your previous tears, but it was a touch lighter. You felt lighter.

“Yeah.” Cassian stretched his legs out in front of him, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, leaning back on the other.

Still, some doubt lingered. It couldn’t be this easy. Things were never this easy.

“So, you’re not going to leave me?” You couldn’t remember the last time you felt shy in front of him, and you hated yourself for asking, hated that he might think you weak, needy, pathetic – the words raced around, threatening to send you into a panic.

“Never,” That one word had you relaxing immediately. “You would have to force me to leave you, and even then… I’m not going aware, Sweetheart.”

You could have melted at his words. You swore you did as you leant against him, letting out a small sigh of relief, a breath you had been holding for days, weeks, months.

“Y/N?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the words whispered into your ear as his breath fanned across your skin. “Can I please kiss you now?”

You tilted your head up to face him, a small smile gracing your features as he slanted his lips over your own and you immediately felt as though you had returned home.

Pulling away all too quickly, your lips desperately chased his, only to receive a playful peck in response before Cassian was helping you to your feet.

“Come on,”

“Cass?” You laugh was laced with confusion, yet you followed him anyway, watching as he picked up the discarded sparring swords and placing them back alongside the others.

“What? We’ve got some news to share,” He stole another quick kiss as he laced your hands together.

“Now?”

“Yes now,” He mocked with a playful grin, “I don’t want to waste another moment, especially when it has you feeling as though–”

The abrupt stop to Cassian’s words had the smile slipping from your face as you took in his wide eyes and startled expression.

“Cassian, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N… You’re…” He let out a disbelieving laugh as he continued to stare at you, drinking in every feature, every miniscule detail and expression that crossed your face. Turning your head, you tried to look around for the cause of his sudden change in demeanour, only to be met with gentle, yet calloused, hands cupping your face, urging you to meet his gaze before his lips were pressed over yours again.

Despite the confusion, you gratefully accepted and leant into the kiss, relaxing as his arms draped around your waist and as you let your fingers travel up his neck before tangling into his hair. Cassian was breathing heavily when he pulled away, you could hear the pounding of his heart as he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes remained tightly shut, the feel of his lashes fluttering across your skin sent your own heart fluttering in response.

Then he mumbled something incoherently; too quiet and smothered for you to even begin to comprehend.

“Hmm?” You asked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Another murmur had you pulling away, eyebrows furrowing as you took in his dumbfounded expression and the way his eyes were still tightly shut. But there was now a smile tugging at his lips.

“Cass?”

“Mate. You’re my mate.” His eyes snapped open, revealing complete, utter joy as he stared at you with wonder and bewilderment.

Oh. Right.

“And you’re my mate.” At least you didn’t have to keep this to yourself any longer.

Cassian tilted his head as he processed your reaction and the way your lips spread into a soft, loving smile.

“You knew. You already knew.” Although his voice was laced with exasperation, his face held nothing but love and giddy excitement, eyes bright as he met yours. You sent a wave of affirmation down the newly linked bond, watching with joy as Cassian’s eyes lit up even further at the sensation. You knew you were grinning just as stupidly back at him when you felt a tug of your own filled with nothing but love.

The two of you stood there grinning and staring at one another as though seeing the other in a new light. Then you were both moving, arms a flurry as they desperately wrapped around the other, lips meeting in a loving and passionate kiss that only intensified with each tug that raced down the bond, igniting the need for more, so much more.

A gentle tap from Cassian and you were quick to jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his arms held you tightly against him. Through the kisses and moans and soft sighs, somehow Cassian found himself moving, walking the two of you to the door that would lead you inside and to your room.

“Wait,” You pulled back, gasping for air as you leant your forehead against his, legs still tightly wrapped around his middle. Cassian was panting just as heavily, waiting on your every move and word. “Kitchen.”

The suggestive grin he shot you went straight to your core, the feeling only amplified as he attached his lips to your neck. “I think I like where this is heading,” A soft moan sounded in the back of your throat as he tugged on your earlobe, then he was walking again, albeit very quickly, towards the kitchen, his lips back on yours.

“No, idiot,” Another moan had your breathless words halting immediately. “Food.”

Now Cassian pulled away, looking at you through the haze of love and lust, now tainted by a hint of confusion.

“Food,” You continued, pressing a kiss to his lips before trailing along his jaw and returning the favour with a tug on his earlobe. “For the mating bond.”

You felt Cassian’s body tense against you, “You’re going to accept it?”

“Yes…” you said tentatively, not quite understanding the need for his question because what other answer was there?

The intensity in which he kissed you had him stumbling back a few steps, arms wrapping even tighter around you to keep you in his arms.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Your gaze softened as you took in his uncertain expression, as you felt it through the bond.

“No, I don’t know. I just thought… I mean, you’re… Do you really want to be tied to a bastard-born Illy…” You cut his words off with a sharp look and a deep kiss that conveyed exactly what you thought of what he had just implied. Then you were sending every ounce of love and affection that you could muster towards him, heart melting as his expression changed and with the way he looked at you whilst processing the raw, vulnerability of the emotions surging down the bond.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, barely more than a lingering peck before saying, “Please can you let me give you some food now? I’ve been keeping this in all week.”

“All week? You’ve known about this since…”

“It snapped during our fight,” You shrugged, not wanting to relive it now that you had finally reached this point.

It was Cassian’s turn to pull you into a tender kiss before you found yourself overwhelmed by the new sensation of his emotions landing right above your heart.

“I think we can hold off on telling the others for just a little bit longer.”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” You tapped his arm gently and he placed you back onto your feet. Lacing your fingers with his, you pulled him into the kitchen and made him take a seat while you went about putting a plate of food together.

“Besides,” You continued, suddenly remembering Azriel’s involvement, “Az already knows. So I’m sure the others have put the pieces together by now and will steer clear for a few days.”

“A few weeks more like.” You grinned at the slight growl in his voice and the hunger in his eyes as his gaze remained fixed on you.

“Here,” Your voice was almost breathless, stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves as you pushed the plate towards him. Cassian briefly glanced down at it then, with a look of well-honed restraint, he slowly stood and walked over to you, pulling you in for a kiss as he murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Without tearing his eyes away from you, Cassian reached across the table for the plate, eating everything on it as you remained transfixed on one another, basking in the feeling of the bond you shared growing stronger and stronger until, at last, everything felt as though it had finally fallen into place.

***** Thanks for reading 🥰

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #azriel acotar #rhysand acotar #cassian x y/n #marley writes

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