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deluboo · 1 year ago

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MIDNIGHT INK.

genre: smut — 18+ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ contains: unprotected sex oral sex rough sex heartbreak

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ © DELUBOO 2024.

sitting on your bed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers tracing the outline of the faded tattoo on your lower back. once a symbol of love, it had become a haunting reminder of heartbreak. you needed to rid yourself of it, something to signify a fresh start.

finally, you picked up your phone from the desk and called the one person you trusted implicitly.

"hello?"

"hey, before you leave, can i get a quick one done on my lower back?" you asked hesitantly. "trying to get a cover-up."

"yeah, sure, be here by eleven-thirty, okay?"

"alright, cool, thanks." you stayed silent for a minute, hoping he'd say more, but the call ended abruptly.

glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. it was 11:20. with a groan, you grabbed your keys and rushed out. the tattoo shop was only five minutes from your home, but october's chill and early darkness made the journey feel longer.

despite the recent breakup with your boyfriend, you always found yourself returning to him—jungkook. he was the man you confided in, sharing all your problems, including tales of your toxic relationship. though he listened, sometimes distant, you sensed he disliked hearing about your ex. yet, he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on; truth be told, he was the reason you frequented the tattoo shop.

upon arrival, the sign's lights flickered at the entrance. taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. jungkook looked up from his station, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. his dark, intense gaze swept over you, making your heart flutter.

"hey," he greeted, a slow smile spreading. "ready?"

you nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "yeah, thanks for staying late."

"no problem," he replied, his voice low and soothing. he gestured to the tattoo chair. "take a seat. let's see what we're working with."

as you settled into the chair, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you. jungkook moved with practised ease, gathering his tools and preparing the area.

"alright, let's take a look," he said calmly, lifting the back of your hoodie. his fingers brushed against your skin, lingering longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.

jungkook's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of desire in his eyes before he focused back on your skin. "15th of… december… 2023," he murmured, staring at your tattoo.

embarrassed, you leaned your head against the seat. "yeah, that's when we started dating."

he hummed in response, studying the faded tattoo. "this will be a great cover-up. do you have a design in mind, or want me to freestyle something?"

"i trust you," you whispered. "just something that represents a new beginning."

jungkook nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. "got it. i'll sketch something out quickly."

you watched as he worked, his hands moving swiftly and confidently. the room was filled with the soft hum of the neon sign outside and the quiet scratch of his pencil on paper. after a few minutes, he held up the sketch for you to see.

"how about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.

the design was beautiful—delicate yet bold, perfectly capturing what you wanted. "it's perfect," you grinned.

"glad you like it. let's get started," he smiled.

he carefully transferred the design onto your skin, his touch sending another shiver through you. "ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

you nodded, unable to find your voice. the first touch of the needle was sharp but bearable. the pain quickly faded into the background, overshadowed by the sensation of jungkook's hands on your skin. each touch, each brush of his fingers, felt amplified in the intimate quiet of the shop.

jungkook worked with steady precision, his eyes never leaving your skin. "you're doing great," he murmured, his breath warm against your back. "just a little longer."

you tried to focus on the rhythm of his work, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness of his body and his hands' warmth. the tension between you was palpable, each minute passing in a haze of anticipation and desire. his fingers occasionally brushed against your skin in a way that felt more intentional than accidental, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

as the tattoo session continued, you found yourself mesmerized by the sensation of his touch. the combination of the late hour, the dim lighting, and the intimate nature of the session made every moment feel charged with electricity. you could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the soft brush of his breath on your skin.

"how does it feel?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm with a dark, underlying current.

"it's… it's good," you managed to reply, your voice shaking slightly. "thank you, jungkook."

he smiled, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "almost done. just hang in there."

the final strokes of the tattoo machine were almost a relief, though you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment at the thought of his touch ending. when he finally finished, jungkook leaned back to admire his work, his expression of satisfaction mixed with something deeper.

"all done," he said softly. "take a look."

you stood up and walked to the mirror, turning to see the new tattoo on your lower back. it was beautiful, a perfect cover-up that transformed an old regret into something new and meaningful.

"wow," you said, your voice filled with genuine awe. "i love it."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense and dark with unspoken desire. "i'm glad you like it," he said.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with unspoken feelings and charged with undeniable tension.

"thank you," you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

jungkook's hand brushed against your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. his touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "you're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "anytime."

as you stared into each other's eyes, the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the line between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition. the tension was almost unbearable, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more.

jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek to your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. "you know," he said softly, his lips just inches from yours, "i've always been here for you. and i always will be."

his hand lingered on your neck, his thumb gently brushing your jawline as he stared into your eyes. the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing the growing tension in the room.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing.

your breath hitched, and you leaned in closer without thinking, your lips just a breath away from his. the anticipation was almost unbearable, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, drawing you in.

unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. jungkook responded immediately, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. the kiss deepened slowly, fueled by the weeks of suppressed desire and the intimate setting of the tattoo shop. his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. the sensation was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. the sensation of his heartbeat under your palm matched the frantic pace of your own. every touch, every movement was charged, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. "god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, tracing the newly inked tattoo.

you let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. "me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "i've wanted you for so long."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he looked at you. "then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice a low growl.

with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the tattoo chair, positioning himself between your legs. the cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between you. jungkook's hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal more of your skin. he kissed a trail down your collarbone, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra.

your breath hitched as he pulled the bra away, his lips capturing one of your nipples in a hot, wet kiss. you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

"jungkook," you moaned, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

he responded by kissing his way back up to your mouth, his tongue parting your lips as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. the kiss was deep and fervent, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when they parted. his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the sensation only heightened your own desire. with a trembling hand, you reached down, palming him through his jeans. he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and making you even wetter.

"need you," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathless with need.

jungkook pulled back just enough to tug off his shirt, revealing the expanse of tattoos that decorated his chest and arms. you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, tracing the lines of ink with your fingers.

he made quick work of your clothes, stripping you bare before him. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but the look in jungkook's eyes sent a new wave of warmth through you. he kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with a fervent intensity.

his fingers found their way between your legs, sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. you gasped, bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance.

"you're so wet for me," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "i want to taste you."

before you could respond, he knelt between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your hands gripping the edges of the tattoo chair as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots.

jungkook's tongue moved with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge. just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

"i want you to come with me inside you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

you nodded, too breathless to speak, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. the sight of him, fully naked and aroused, made your mouth water. he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pushed inside.

the sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he began to move. each thrust was deliberate and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke.

jungkook's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved faster, his breath hot against your neck. "you're mine," he growled, his voice filled with possessive desire.

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i'm yours."

the words seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, driving into you with an almost desperate intensity. your orgasm built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure that finally snapped, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. he collapsed against you, both of you breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms coursed through you.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

"that was…" you began, but trailed off, unable to find the words.

"amazing," jungkook finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

you nodded, a matching smile spreading across your face. "yeah. amazing."

jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. "i told you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "i'll always be here for you."

you nestled closer to him, savouring the warmth of his body against yours. "and i'll always be here for you," you whispered back, feeling a profound sense of connection and contentment.

jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "we should get cleaned up," he said, but made no move to let you go. instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

you smiled, leaning into his touch. "yeah, but maybe we can stay like this for just a little longer," you suggested, not ready to break the intimate cocoon that had enveloped you both.

he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i like the sound of that."

the two of you lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms, the quiet of the tattoo shop providing a serene backdrop to your tender moment. the reality of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant compared to the warmth and closeness you shared.

eventually, jungkook sighed and pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "as much as i'd love to stay here with you forever, we should clean up and get you home."

you nodded, understanding the practicality of his words even though you wished the moment could last longer. "okay."

jungkook helped you off the tattoo chair, both of you moving slowly, savoring the lingering touches and stolen kisses as you gathered your clothes. he was gentle as he helped you dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you want to pull him back into your embrace.

once you were both dressed, jungkook guided you to the small bathroom at the back of the shop. he wet a cloth and began to gently clean the areas of your body that still tingled from his touch. the intimacy of the moment, even in such a simple act, made your heart swell with affection.

"thank you," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "for everything."

he smiled, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel cherished. "anytime, y/n."

with a final, lingering kiss, jungkook finished cleaning up and walked you to the door. the cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt inside, but you didn't mind. you knew that the bond you had forged tonight was something special, something that would stay with you long after you left the shop.

as you stepped outside, jungkook held your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "call me when you get home, okay? i want to make sure you're safe."

you nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "i will."

he watched as you walked away, his figure a comforting presence behind you. as you made your way home, you felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that you hadn't felt in a long time. the night had been more than just a tattoo session—it had been a new beginning, a step towards a future filled with promise and love.

later that night, as you settled into bed, your mind was filled with thoughts of jungkook, completely forgetting he was waiting for your call.

the intimacy you shared, the way he looked at you, the feeling of his hands on your skin—it all replayed in your mind like a beautiful dream. just as you were about to drift off to sleep, your phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. the screen displayed jungkook's name, and your heart skipped a beat.

you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "hey,"

"hey," he replied, his voice warm and soothing. "i just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"i did," you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his concern. "thank you for checking."

there was a brief silence, filled with the unspoken feelings hanging between you. finally, jungkook broke the silence. "i can't stop thinking about tonight, about you, y/n."

"me too," you admitted, your voice soft. "thanks for the special treatment."

"it was special," jungkook agreed. "i've wanted to tell you how i feel for so long, but i didn't know if you felt the same way."

"i do," you whispered, your heart pounding. "i feel the same way, jungkook."

he let out a relieved sigh, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "i'm glad to hear that. how about we make this official? can i take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

your face broke into a wide smile, your excitement bubbling over. "i'd love that."

"great," jungkook said, his voice filled with warmth. "i'll pick you up at seven. sweet dreams, y/n."

"sweet dreams, jungkook," you replied, ending the call with a smile.

the next day was a blur of anticipation and excitement. as the evening approached, you found yourself carefully selecting an outfit, wanting everything to be perfect. when the clock struck seven, a knock on your door made your heart race.

jungkook stood on the other side, looking effortlessly handsome. he greeted you with a bouquet and a shy, endearing smile. "you look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with admiration.

"thank you," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. "you look great too."

the dinner was perfect. the two of you shared stories, laughter, and tender glances across the table. every moment felt charged with electricity, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. after dinner, jungkook took you for a walk in a nearby park. the night was clear, the stars twinkling above as you strolled hand in hand.

as you reached a quiet spot, jungkook turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. "y/n, i meant what i said last night. i'll always be here for you. i want to be with you if you'll have me."

your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "i want to be with you too, jungkook. more than anything."

he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips finding yours in a soft, tender kiss. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your perfect moment.

the weeks that followed were filled with joy and discovery. jungkook became not only your lover but your confidant and best friend. each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and your love grew stronger with each passing day.

you found yourself spending more and more time at jungkook's apartment, where he would cook for you, and you would talk for hours about everything and nothing. the walls that once seemed to contain just his life now felt like a shared space where your love blossomed.

one evening, as you lay in bed together, jungkook traced patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers through you. "i've been thinking about something," he said, hesitating.

"what is it?" you asked, turning to face him.

"i want us to move in together," he confessed, his eyes searching yours. "i want you to be a part of my everyday life, not just the special moments. what do you think?"

your heart swelled with joy, and you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "i think i'd love that. more than anything."

moving in together felt like the most natural step in your relationship. you merged your lives seamlessly, finding comfort and joy in the little things—cooking together, late-night talks, and lazy sunday mornings.

one evening, while unpacking the last of your things, you came across an old photo album. sitting on the couch, you and jungkook flipped through the pages, laughing at childhood photos and sharing stories from your pasts. it felt intimate and suitable, a testament to how deeply you trusted each other.

jungkook pulled you close, his eyes filled with love and promise. "we've come a long way, haven't we?"

"we have," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "and i wouldn't change a thing."

as the evening wore on, you found yourselves on the balcony, watching the sunset. jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "i can't wait to see what the future holds for us," he murmured.

"me too," you replied, your heart full of love and excitement. "with you by my side, i know it will be amazing."

as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of fulfilment and contentment. the journey began with a simple tattoo, which had transformed into a beautiful love story that would continue to unfold with each passing day.

your past no longer held any power over you; you could embrace a future filled with love, promise, and endless possibilities. together, you and jungkook would face whatever came your way, knowing that your love was strong enough to withstand anything.

as you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of your happily ever after.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ — © DELUBOO 2024.

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #smut jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jjk smut

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writingbuckets · 4 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩

paige bueckers x tutor!reader

wc: 3.5k

synopsis: In a tense library setting, Y/N tutors Paige Bueckers in math, but Paige’s distracting flirtations make it difficult for Y/N to focus. As the session progresses, Paige's teasing escalates, and the playful tension builds between them.

warnings: flirting and sexual tension, mild power dynamics, explicit sexual content, public setting, sexual innuendos and suggestive themes

a/n: smut!! hopefully the next thing i post is for the hot take?

“Alright, so this is a basic setup for solving linear equations,” you said, your voice calm but tinged with a teacher-like authority. Your pen glided over the page, underlining the example problem with precision. “The key is to isolate the variable, so you want to start by simplifying both sides.”

The library was bathed in soft afternoon light streaming through tall windows, the rays casting long, golden streaks across the tables and shelves. The air felt still, heavy with the kind of focus that seemed to permeate academic spaces. Occasionally, the faint hum of the air conditioning broke the silence, accompanied by the gentle rustle of someone turning a page or the muted scrape of a chair being adjusted.

Across from you, Paige sat slouched in her seat, an air of nonchalance radiating from her. Her elbow was propped on the table, fingers cradling her cheek, her head tilted ever so slightly as though the weight of paying attention was too much effort. The textbook lay open in front of her, but its pages were pristine, unbent, untouched—like a prop more than a tool.

Meanwhile, your notebook was the complete opposite. The pages were covered in neat rows of equations, annotations, and diagrams, each one carefully designed to explain the problem at hand. You leaned forward slightly, your brow furrowed in concentration as you scribbled another step beneath the problem.

Paige’s eyes weren’t on the notebook. They weren’t even on the textbook. Instead, her gaze lingered on you—on the way your fingers moved smoothly over the paper, the way a strand of hair had fallen into your face, the way your lips pursed slightly when you were focused.

“Are you even listening?” you asked without looking up, sensing her lack of attention.

Her blue eyes snapped to yours, wide with feigned innocence, as if she’d just been caught red-handed and was scrambling to cover it up. The corners of her lips twitched, hovering between a smirk and a nervous smile. “Yeah. Totally,” she said, her tone overly casual, as though repeating your words would make up for the fact that she clearly hadn’t heard a single one. “Isolate the variable.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in your chair to give her an expectant look. “Okay, then,” you said, your voice dripping with skepticism. “Tell me what the first step is.”

Paige’s face froze for a beat, her confident front cracking just enough for you to catch the flicker of panic in her eyes. She shifted in her seat, her fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as she stalled for time. Her gaze darted to the notebook between you, scanning it as though the answer might jump off the page and save her.

She blinked once. Then twice. Each deliberate, slow flutter of her lashes seemed like an attempt to buy time, to summon an excuse that would pull her out of the corner she’d backed herself into. Finally, with a resigned exhale, Paige leaned back in her chair, the legs creaking softly under the shift in her weight. A sheepish grin spread across her face, one of those lopsided ones that managed to look charming even when it was entirely unearned.

“Uh… you know,” she began, her voice light and teasing, “this whole tutoring thing would be way easier if you weren’t so distracting.”

Your pen froze mid-scribble, and you looked up, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Heat bloomed across your neck, a quiet embarrassment sneaking in at her unexpected comment. “I’m the distraction?” you shot back, trying to sound exasperated but unable to keep the faint incredulity out of your tone. “You’re the one zoning out like we’re not cramming for your math quiz tomorrow.”

Paige shrugged, entirely unfazed, her smirk stretching wider, becoming more self-assured. “Can you blame me?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as her eyes scanned your face, her expression making it clear she was in no rush to answer seriously. “It’s hard to focus when you look like…”

She trailed off, letting the silence hang between you, knowing full well it would make you curious. Her hand lifted lazily, gesturing vaguely in your direction as if the rest of the sentence didn’t even need to be said.

“Like what?” you pressed, narrowing your eyes at her and crossing your arms over your chest, the action more defensive than you intended.

Paige leaned forward again, her elbow resting on the table as she met your gaze with a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. “Like that,” she said simply, her voice soft but firm, as though the words held a weight she wasn’t willing to explain.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t completely hide the faint smile threatening to tug at the corners of your lips. There was a part of you—a small, secret part—that enjoyed her relentless teasing, even if it made concentrating nearly impossible. In truth, who didn’t want an attractive athlete constantly flirting with them? “Compliments won’t get you out of this, Bueckers,” you said, shaking your head as you tapped the open notebook with your pen. “Eyes on the notes. We’re finishing this problem before I lose my patience.”

She groaned dramatically, her head tipping back as though the weight of the request was unbearable. “Fine, fine,” she relented, her voice dripping with exaggerated defeat. Slowly, she leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand as her other hand hovered above the notebook. Her gaze skimmed over the words without much urgency. “Isolation of variables. Got it. So simple.”

The sarcasm in her tone wasn’t lost on you. “If it’s so simple,” you countered, shifting in your seat to lean closer, “then what’s the next step?”

Paige tilted her head, her eyes lingering on the page for a beat too long, as if stalling for time. The faint crease in her brow made it clear she wasn’t entirely sure what to say. But then, her focus flickered—first to your hand, resting near the edge of the notebook, and then upward, locking onto your face.

Her lips curled into that signature smirk of hers, the one that practically radiated confidence and just a touch of mischief. “Honestly?” she began, her voice taking on a softer, almost playful tone.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift. “Yeah?”

“The next move,” she said, her gaze unwavering, “is probably asking you out. That’s gotta be easier than this math stuff.”

You froze, your pen hovering mid-air above the notebook, her words replaying in your head like a broken record. Slowly, you blinked, your brain scrambling to formulate a response as an involuntary warmth spread from your chest to your cheeks. “You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as you refocused on the paper in front of you, hoping she didn’t notice the subtle hitch in your composure.

“But you’re still here,” she quipped, her voice light and teasing, accompanied by a grin so self-satisfied it could’ve powered the room’s dim lighting. She leaned back in her chair again, stretching her arms behind her head like she didn’t have a care in the world.

You shot her a look, your eyebrow arched in mock annoyance. “Not for much longer if you don’t start paying attention,” you warned, though the corners of your lips betrayed you, twitching upward despite your best efforts to stay stern.

Paige tapped her pencil lazily against the edge of the table, her eyes flicking between the open textbook and your concentrated expression. A playful grin spread across her face as she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand.

“You know,” she started, her tone light and teasing, “I think I could probably focus better if I was sitting next to you.”

You paused mid-scribble, lifting your head to give her a skeptical look. “What difference would that make?” you asked, though your voice wavered slightly under the weight of her mischievous gaze.

Paige shrugged, the grin on her face growing wider. “I don’t know. Something about proximity to greatness or whatever,” she said with a wink. “Plus, you could point out what I’m doing wrong in real time. Super efficient.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the blush creeping up your neck. “Or you’d just get more distracted,” you countered, trying to sound unfazed.

Paige tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Maybe,” she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. “But I think it’s worth the risk.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you tried to focus on the notes in front of you. But the warmth of her words lingered, and from the corner of your eye, you could see the triumphant spark in her gaze.

Without a word, she pushed back her chair, the legs scraping softly against the library floor. Before you could question her, Paige stood and casually made her way around the table, plopping herself down in the empty seat right beside you. The subtle scent of her cologne hit you immediately, and your heart rate spiked as the proximity closed the space between you.

“Paige,” you said, your voice low but exasperated.

She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief. You blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden closeness. Her shoulder brushed yours as she leaned just slightly into your space, and you could feel your face heat up. “That’s not how this works,” you mumbled, looking down at your notes in a desperate attempt to avoid her gaze.

Her eyes dropped to your notebook, and she gestured toward it lazily. “Alright, teach. Show me how it’s done.”

You sighed, trying to suppress the fluttering in your chest. “If you don’t take this seriously—”

“I am,” Paige interrupted, her voice soft but sincere. She looked at you, her smirk softening into a small smile. “Promise. Just… don’t mind me sitting here.”

Before you even realized it, your concentration shattered like fragile glass, the words on the page blurring into meaningless scribbles when Paige’s hand, warm and deliberate, began a slow, almost hesitant journey up your thigh, slipping just beneath the edge of the table. Her fingertips grazed your skin lightly, tracing lazy, teasing circles that sent a shiver up your spine. The contact was featherlight but impossible to ignore, each movement deliberate enough to make your heart race.

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively glanced around the library, your eyes darting to the other tables to see if anyone might be watching. The muted hum of the room felt louder, the soft rustling of pages and faint whispers of conversation suddenly heightened against the thrumming of your pulse.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a mix of shock and disbelief. Your gaze snapped back to Paige, wide-eyed, but she didn’t flinch.

She leaned in slightly, her lips tugging into a sly, self-assured smirk. “Helping you relax,” she murmured, her voice low and velvety, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, daring you to call her out—but the steady rhythm of her fingers told you she had no intention of stopping.

"Shh," she whispered, her hand inching further up. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

You bit your lip, your heart pounding in your chest as her fingers found the hem of your skirt. The possibility of getting caught only heightened the thrill, your pulse quickening with anticipation. Paige's hand slid under the fabric, her palm grazing against your bare thigh. You sucked in a sharp breath, your skin tingling at her touch. She traced light patterns on your inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to your aching core.

"Paige, we're in public," you hissed, but your words held no conviction. Your body betrayed you, your hips shifting towards her teasing touch.

"I know," she purred, her fingers dancing maddeningly close to where you needed them most. "But no one can see what I'm doing to you under this table. So, you just sit there and look pretty, and I’ll handle the rest, okay?”

The war raging in your mind was written all over your face, each flicker of hesitation and uncertainty etched into your features. Your eyebrows furrowed, then lifted slightly, your lips parting as though to speak but quickly pressing together again. It was a silent tug-of-war, the conflict within you mirrored in the subtle shifts of your expression, betraying the chaos swirling behind your eyes.

As Paige's delicate fingers traced tantalizing patterns across your skin, a shiver of electric pleasure coursed through your body. Her touch was like liquid fire, igniting every nerve ending and sending waves of intoxicating sensation straight to your core. You found yourself lost in a haze of desire, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to maintain your composure.

The rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to pull away from whatever this was. But the primal urge growing within you drowned out all reason. Your body betrayed you, responding to Paige's skilled touch with a hunger you'd never experienced before.

As if in a trance, you felt your head slowly nodding, giving in to the overwhelming need that consumed you. Paige's lips curled into a knowing smirk, her eyes glinting with triumph at how easily she'd convinced you. That smug expression only fueled your arousal further, making you ache to prove just how dirty you could be.

At your agreement, Paige's eyes flashed with predatory hunger. In one fluid motion, she removed her hand from your thigh, leaving a trail of tingling skin in its wake. Her slender fingers curled around the armrest of your chair, nails digging into the fabric.

With surprising strength, she yanked your chair towards her, the wheels squeaking in protest. The sudden movement sent a jolt through your body, your heart pounding as you were pulled into her personal space. The scent of her perfume - a heady mix of jasmine and something darker, more primal - enveloped you.

Your bodies were now mere inches apart, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Paige's chest heaved with each breath, the swell of her breasts straining against her tight top. Her legs parted slightly, inviting you closer.

The abrupt closeness left you dizzy, your senses overwhelmed by her presence. You could see every detail of her face - the flecks of gold in her eyes, the slight parting of her glossy lips, the flush creeping up her neck. The air between you crackled with tension, thick with unspoken desires and the promise of what was to come.

Paige abruptly broke the intense eye contact, her gaze darting down to the open textbook on the desk. The sudden shift in her demeanor was palpable, like a switch had been flipped. Her long lashes fluttered as her eyes scanned the page, a slight furrow appearing between her perfectly shaped brows.

With a graceful movement, she extended her arm, her finger tracing a line in the book. The simple gesture drew your attention, almost hypnotically. You could see the delicate bones of her wrist, the soft skin of her inner arm, the way the fluorescent light caught the fine hairs there.

Her body language had changed subtly. Where moments ago she had been all seduction and hunger, now she affected an air of studious concentration. But there was a tension in her shoulders, a slight quickening of her breath that betrayed her act.

As you followed her gesture to the textbook, you caught a whiff of her scent again - that intoxicating blend of jasmine and musk, now mingled with the faint smell of arousal. The proximity of your bodies hadn't changed; you could still feel the heat radiating from her, could still see the rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

The moment of studious concentration was shattered as Paige's hand found its way to your bare thigh. Her fingers traced slow, teasing circles on your exposed skin, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through your body. You felt the heat of her palm, the slight calluses on her fingertips, as she caressed your leg.

Paige's eyes lifted to meet yours, the fleeting vulnerability replaced by a smoldering intensity. The air between you was charged with tension, thick with the promise of things to come. You could see the dilation of her pupils, the flush that was creeping up her neck, the slight parting of her pink lips.

Her hand moved higher, inch by torturous inch, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The flimsy skirt provided little barrier, and her touch felt like a brand against your flesh.

Paige leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “Tell me,” her hand continued its torturous exploration, fingertips teasing along the hem of your skirt. She pulled back slightly, her gaze locked on yours, "how badly do you want this?”

Her hand slid higher, skimming the edge of your panties. Suddenly, her pinky and ring finger slipped underneath the elastic band, hooking into the side of your underwear. With a quick tug, she pulled them to the side, exposing you fully to her touch.

You hesitated before whispering out, “So bad, Paige, please.”

Paige's fingers stroked through your wet folds, gathering the slick arousal there. She brought her hand to her lips, wrapping around them, swiping her tongue across the digits in a slow, deliberate motion. "So good," she said, her eyes never leaving yours.

You watched, mesmerized, as she pulled her fingers out with an audible pop and returned them between your legs. Her fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, maddening circles around the sensitive bud. Pleasure jolted through you, your legs quivering and toes curling in your shoes.

Just as you felt something within you building, Paige moved her hand lower. You gasped as you felt her tracing your entrance, your slick arousal allowing her to glide easily across the delicate skin, Paige's lips curving into a wicked grin against your ear.

"Feels like you want this," she whispered, dipping her finger teasingly inside your heat before retreating. "So wet. I wonder..." She dipped back in, this time adding a second finger to tease you as she withdrew.

Paige continued her maddening torture, fingers slipping into you only to withdraw once more before you could get too accustomed to the sensation. Your thighs trembled, hands fisting in the arms of your chair as you tried to control your breathing.

"Feel so good," Paige murmured appreciatively, "I can't wait to feel you around my fingers."

She pushed two digits deep inside you, finally giving you the penetration you craved. Your head fell back as she began to pump slowly, building up a rhythm. Her thumb found your clit, adding another layer of stimulation that had you squirming. "You like this, don't you?" Paige's breath was hot against your neck as she pressed open mouth kisses to your pulse point. "Being touched like this, in public where anyone could catch us. It excites you, doesn't it?"

Paige's fingers were relentless, plunging into you at a steady, driving pace that had you seeing stars. Her thumb circled your clit, each touch sending bolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. The dual sensations were almost too much to bear. You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge of oblivion, your body tensing tighter and tighter. "Go ahead and cum for me," Paige commanded, her voice a dark, sinful purr. "I want to feel you soak my fingers with it." She pressed her thumb hard against your clit, the increased pressure finally pushing you over the brink.

Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over you, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around Paige's fingers, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in an attempt to silence your noises.

Even as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax, Paige didn't stop. Her fingers continued to pump into you, drawing out your pleasure and making the intense sensations border on painfully overwhelming. You almost sobbed, you mouth forming an O, your hands coming down to clutch at her arm, nails digging into the skin there. "Paige, please," you begged, unable to tell if you were begging her to stop or for more. But she knew exactly what you needed.

Paige removed her hand from between your legs, your hips still jerking sporadically. Through the haze of pleasure, you saw her raise her hand, slick with your arousal. Rather than wiping her fingers off, Paige brought them to her mouth again. Your gaze locked with hers as she sucked them into her mouth, licking them clean. A low, throaty moan escaped her at the taste of you.

Paige leaned back in her chair, her trademark smirk firmly in place as she grabbed her pencil tapped it against the edge of the table. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, locking onto yours as if she’d just won some unspoken game, and in some ways, she had.

“So,” she drawled, her voice dripping with smug confidence, “the next step?”

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post #uconn x reader

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demonic0angel · 6 months ago

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Anger Management prompt where there is a car accident, except it's in space, between Team Phantom and The Outlaws.

(Lmaoooo this is so freaking funny bc my sister got into a car accident just a week ago. She’s fine tho, dw)

Part 2

“Fuck you!” The teenager immediately screamed. “Where the hell did you learn to drive?! Go back to school, fucking dumbass! You can’t even drive, you piece of sh—”

He was then pulled back by one of his friends, who grabbed him and dragged him back to their normal looking, definitely not broken spacecraft. A girl, dressed in a very distinctive style of goth, then made an awkward face, popped her gum, and said, “Sorry about him. He has really bad road rage.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “I can see that. So what’re we going to do now? You crashed into our spacecraft!”

“Well, you don’t have spaceship insurance, do you?” The girl drawled.

Jason was suddenly reminded of why he hated Tim Drake and Damian Wayne. They were goddamn insufferable, obnoxious, annoying, irresponsible teenagers.

Jason suddenly felt like he aged 20 years in an instant and wondered if this was what Dick felt like, being so old.

Roy patted him on the arm. “Want me to take care of this?”

Jason gestured for him to go ahead, already feeling a headache. Roy walked forward and smiled charmingly. “Hey, kiddo! So, it’s not a big deal that we got bumped into— happens all the time! But we just want to know where your parents are! And why you’re out in space! And how we’re going to get back to earth, since our shipped is now wrecked. You know what earth is, right? Earth is—”

“We know what earth is,” the same cursing teenager from earlier said with a snide tone, “We live there too.”

Roy and Jason blinked.

Then Jason spat, “Well, that doesn’t do us shit! We still have a wrecked spacecraft and we’re stuck here on this moon until you fix it! Don’t think you can just fly away! We’re stranded because of you brats!”

Kori then appeared out of the spacecraft and flew down to them all. The kids all immediately stopped, eyes wide in awe. She smiled and said, “Hello, children! Is there anyway you can help us? You did wreck our spacecraft after all.”

Immediately, in the most respectful tone Jason had ever heard, the two-faced brat from earlier then said, “I’m so sorry, miss. We didn’t think that anyone would be exploring this part of space out here, so we weren’t looking! We’re sorry. We don’t have the tools to fix it either.”

Jason’s entire face suddenly wanted to break out into the nastiest glare he could muster. So not only did this kid blatantly show favoritism to Kori (even if she was definitely super cool), he also couldn’t help at all despite the fact that he completely stranded them in space after being careless with a spaceship?

Kori frowned and they all shared a look. Now what? Jason could feel the migraine get more annoying and he almost wanted to pull out his gun just to kill some kids and feel better about his shitty fucking day, when the other teen, who had pulled away the feral brat, spoke up and said, “We can call Jazz!”

“Oh yeah! Jazz! Quick, Sam, call her up!”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “Who’s Jazz?”

“My big sister,” the brat said, “She’ll fix this.”

Great. Another annoying person who would only make his headache worse and possibly piss him off even further. However, just as he finished thinking this and sharing another annoyed look with Roy, a green portal opened up and a goddess stepped down.

She was tall, with a curvaceous figure wrapped in black and blue robes, as well as a fluffy cape around her shoulders. Her hair fell down over her back, colored red like fire and sunsets and tiger lilies, and her face was that of a statue, carefully designed, crafted, and admired by all. She was so beautiful and picturesque that the air around her seemed to glow like a halo.

Just looking at her made Jason’s sorrows disappear.

She blinked her fluttering eyelashes over her turquoise eyes and then asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

Her voice was so angelic that Jason didn’t even feel his headache anymore.

“Nothing now that you’re here,” Jason said dreamily.

“Oh my god,” Roy said, hand over his mouth as he stared at Jason in shock. Even Kori looked shocked and amused.

The boy with black hair shared a disgusted look with his friends. “I thought that would’ve been my line.”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #jazz fenton #danny fenton #anon ask #tucker foley #sam manson #anger management ship #jason todd #jason x jazz #hardcover ship #ty for the ask <3 #roy harper #koriand'r

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omgkatherine01 · 26 days ago

Note

Could you do Sergei x reader where he just builds her furniture (I just spent way too long building a dress or and I love the universe where someone sexy did it for me

Crafted with Love

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Note: short

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

The key turned in the lock with a satisfying click as I pushed open the door to my apartment, grocery bags hanging heavy from my tired arms. The sound of power tools whirring to a stop greeted me, followed by a familiar accented voice.

"Ah, моя любовь, you are back earlier than I expected."

I rounded the corner to find Sergei standing shirtless in what had once been the disaster zone of my bedroom, now transformed by his skilled hands. Sweat glistened on his broad shoulders and tattooed chest as he set down a cordless drill. Behind him stood my new closet, its doors perfectly aligned and shelving meticulously installed.

"Sergei, it looks amazing," I breathed, setting down the groceries on my bed.

He smiled, that rare, genuine smile that still made my heart flutter, even after six months together. "Is nothing. Russian craftsmanship." He ran his hand along the smooth wood finish. "Real wood, real construction. Will last lifetime."

I approached the closet, running my fingers over the intricate details he'd added – little carved flourishes at the corners that hadn't been in the original design. Leave it to Sergei to elevate even the most mundane furniture assembly into something extraordinary.

"You didn't have to do this," I said, though we both knew I'd been dreading tackling this project for weeks.

"Nonsense." He stepped behind me, his strong arms encircling my waist as he rested his chin atop my head. "Man must provide for woman he loves. Even if providing means building fortress for your many shoes."

I laughed, leaning back against his chest. "I don't have that many shoes."

"Дa, you do." His lips brushed against my ear. "But is okay. I build bigger closet next time."

"Next time?" I turned in his arms to face him, noticing the smudge of sawdust across his cheek. I reached up to brush it away. "What other furniture are you planning to build me?"

His eyes, intense as always, softened at the edges. "Whatever you need. Bed frame, bookshelves, table for dinner." He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Maybe crib someday."

My breath caught in my throat at the implication, but before I could respond, he gestured toward the closet.

"You try. Open doors, check drawers. Tell me if anything needs fixing."

I slid the closet doors open, marveling at how smoothly they glided along the track. Inside, he'd installed everything perfectly—the hanging rod at just the right height, shelves spaced exactly how I would have wanted them, and even small LED lights that illuminated when the doors opened.

"Sergei, I absolutely love it," I whispered, turning back to him. My heart swelled with appreciation for this man who could hunt the most dangerous game but spent his Sunday building me furniture.

I reached up, cupping his stubbled jaw, and pressed my lips to his. It was meant to be a simple thank you, but Sergei had other ideas. His strong hands gripped my waist as he deepened the kiss, pulling me against his bare chest, the taste of him mingling with the scent of sawdust and sandalwood.

When we finally broke apart, his pupils were dilated, making his eyes appear even darker than usual.

"Is just closet," he murmured against my lips. "Wait until you see what I do with kitchen cabinets."

I laughed, running my fingers through his hair. "You know, most guys just bring flowers."

"Flowers die," he said simply, trailing kisses down my neck. "My craftsmanship remains."

"Mmm, speaking of remaining," I said, feeling his hands slip under my shirt, "don't you have to finish installing those drawer pulls?"

Sergei growled playfully against my skin. "Drawer pulls can wait. Have more pressing matters to attend to."

Before I could respond, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me toward the bed we'd need to clear of grocery bags.

"What about the groceries?" I protested weakly, not really caring about the fate of my frozen peas.

"Will not spoil in next hour," he promised, his accent thickening as it always did when he was focused on something important. "Maybe two hours."

As he lowered me onto the mattress, pushing aside the shopping bags, I couldn't help but smile. Who would have thought that furniture assembly could be such an effective form of foreplay?

#kraven movie #kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #sergei kravinoff #sergei kravinoff x reader #aaron taylor johnson #one shot

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flutteragency · 1 year ago

Text

#flutter ui/ux design tools #flutter design tools #flutter app development #hire flutter developers #flutter app development services #hire flutter developer

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velarisdusk · 7 months ago

Text

Breathe Out Your Sorrows

Day 28: Captivity | Azriel x Reader word count: 10k author's note: WHEW. this turned into so much more than i intended but i couldn’t stop writing, i loved this dark, sick azriel. LOVED him. this is part 2 to Breathe In the Quiet, my kinktober day 24 fic! you could prob still read this standalone and be fine though :) warning! there are a lot of really fucked up elements in this one. dub-con, knives, blood (this is not cute knifeplay with tiny cuts, this is an actual dangerous situation), manipulation, uhhh i think those are all the really bad ones ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

The first thing you felt was the cold. Icy, biting, and unrelenting. It seeped into your skin, clawing at your bones, making you shiver uncontrollably. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, lids heavy with exhaustion, and a wave of disorientation hit you like a crashing tide.

You weren’t in the market anymore.

Gone were the warm lights of Velaris, the bustle of the streets, the illusion of safety. Instead, damp stone surrounded you. The faintest glow from a torch flickered in the corner, casting dancing shadows against the rough, uneven walls of the dungeon. The air was thick with the scent of blood and decay, an overwhelming mixture of damp earth and something far more sinister.

Along the walls hung a collection of vicious instruments, as though they were nothing more than decoration—razor-sharp blades, iron clamps, whips with barbed ends, each more sinister than the last. A wooden rack stood in one corner, its handles worn smooth from countless struggles, while a table along the back wall was littered with tools designed for nothing short of pure agony. But the floor was disturbingly clean. No blood, no stains. An unsettling realization, as if the horrors here were scrubbed away with precision, leaving behind only the lingering sense of suffering and dread.

A dull throb pulsed in your skull, each beat growing more insistent. You reached up to soothe the ache, but as you raised your arm, a sharp, cold sting bir into your wrists, yanking it back. Thick iron shackles clamped tight around your wrists and ankles, bolted to the floor, ensured there would be no escape. Despite the restraints, you still managed to touch the side of your head, feeling a warm, sticky wetness beneath your fingers. You pulled your hand away and peered down at it in the dim torchlight.

Blood.

Panic flared instantly, flooding your veins with adrenaline. Your breathing hitched as you tugged desperately at the restraints, the metallic clink of chains echoing through the chamber. The iron was heavy, and with every frantic jerk, they only tightened around your limbs, the cold steel bruising your skin.

Your heart thundered in your chest as your gaze darted around the room, frantic for any sign of an exit, any hope of escape. But there was none. No windows, no door. Only a narrow grate, no wider than your hand, carved into the stone for the thin wisps of smoke curling from the torch. The walls loomed around you, oppressive and unyielding. And then you felt it—the familiar, suffocating weight of being watched.

His presence curled through the room, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t see him yet, but you knew. You knew Azriel was there, lurking just beyond the shadows, watching you struggle.

“Finally awake, little one?”

The voice slithered through the room, smooth and ominous. You froze, your blood running cold as his figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light. Azriel stood there, tall and imposing, his wings partially unfurled behind him, casting long, ominous shadows across the dungeon floor.

He looked like a nightmare come to life. His dark hair was tousled, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying in its intensity. He wore a tailored suit, every line of it sharp, perfect. But it was his eyes—those cold, predatory eyes—that pinned you in place. The same eyes that had hunted you, stalked you through the streets of Velaris.

The same eyes that had caught you.

“You look so… delicate like this,” he murmured, his voice a low purr as he stepped closer, the clack of his boots against the stone floor deafening in the otherwise silent room. His shadows curled around him like living creatures, some slipping across the floor to circle you.

You swallowed hard, fear clawing at your throat, but you forced yourself to speak. “Why… why are you doing this?”

Azriel tilted his head, a slow, calculating smile curling on his lips as he crouched in front of you, his face mere inches from yours. His breath ghosted against your skin, sending a wave of cold dread washing over you. “Why?” he echoed, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. “Because I can. Because you’re mine.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you recoiled, trying to hurry back, but the short chains held you in the center of the room, your wrists aching as you strained against them. Azriel’s smile widened, a dark, twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched you struggle.

“I’ve been watching you,” he whispered, his voice a silken caress that felt like poison dripping into your veins. “For so long. Waiting. And now…” He reached out, his fingers tracing a slow line down the side of your face. “Now you’re right where you belong.”

You flinched at his touch, cold against your skin, but there was nowhere to go. No escape. You were trapped. Helpless.

Azriel’s hand moved from your face to your throat, his fingers curling around it, not tight enough to choke but just enough to remind you how small you were compared to him, how weak. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke again, his voice dark and wicked. “You feel it, don’t you? That fear? That delicious, sweet terror that’s running through your veins right now?” Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block him out.

“Look at me!” he bellowed, his voice sharp and dangerous as the hand clenched with terrifying force.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and what you saw made your stomach churn. His eyes were filled with hunger—a deep, insatiable hunger, like a panther poised to pounce on and devour a naive, unsuspecting doe. He was enjoying this. Enjoying your fear, your helplessness.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “I can feel your heartbeat,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “It’s racing. You’re terrified, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard but didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The fear had lodged itself in your throat, choking you, paralyzing you.

Azriel’s lips curled into a wicked grin at your silence, and he let out a low, dark chuckle. “Good,” he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure as he pulled away to look you in the eyes. “I like it when you’re scared.”

His hand finally left your throat, and you let out a shaky breath, but it was short-lived.

Azriel stood from his crouched position and circled you slowly, his shadows crawling over your skin, sliding up your arms, wrapping around your legs—until one slipped beneath your dress. You jolted, hands flying to press the fabric between your legs. This only made him chuckle as his shadows merely circled your limbs tighter. His voice was hushed, a dark whisper, like he was savoring this moment, drawing it out just to watch you squirm.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he began, his eyes darkening with a hunger that made your skin crawl. “How many nights I watched you. How many times I imagined this exact moment. You, helpless. Mine.”

He stopped a few paces away from you, his gaze never leaving yours as he rested a hand in his pocket. “I was patient. So patient. Waiting, watching, until the time was right. Gods, you’d always smile at everyone, walk the streets so innocently, so ignorantly. You didn’t have a clue what was going on around you,” his subsequent laugh echoed with something chilling and unhinged. “So many times I’ve had to kill them. Those males who thought they could have you. Creeping toward you in the shadows—my shadows—thinking you were alone. They had no idea I was watching. None of them ever saw me coming.”

Your blood ran cold. No… that couldn’t be true. You would’ve known, right? But you realized with a sickening twist in your gut that there had been moments—those unsettling, unexplained feelings, eyes on your back…

“I was always so close—taking care of you. And you never had any idea.”

His fingers brushed against something in his pocket, and your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him toy with it. “I could’ve taken you anytime. But where’s the fun in that? I wanted you to feel it, to understand your helplessness against someone like me.” His lips curled into a dark smile as he pulled his hand out—slowly, methodically— and held up a necklace. “Now you’ll know. Now, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

He dangled the necklace from a single finger, and a wave of nausea rolled through you when you recognized it. It was the one you’d admired at the market—only now, the gemstones adorning the pendant had been replaced with ones of the deepest blue.

“You were looking at this, weren’t you?” he murmured, lifting the dainty chain slightly to let the light catch on the dark stones. “I went back and bought it for you. Thought I’d make it… better.”

Your stomach twisted as you stared at the necklace, the weight of his obsession sinking in. This wasn’t a gift. This was a symbol of control disguised as one—a mark of ownership.

Azriel’s fingers brushed over the pendant as he knelt before you and fastened the thin chain around your neck, his touch lingering a little too long, a little too intimately. “It suits you,” he whispered, satisfied. “Like it was always meant to be yours.”

His gaze lingered, dark and possessive, and it was painfully clear—he wasn’t just talking about the necklace. The way his eyes gleamed with triumph told you everything. He believed you were meant to be his.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Azriel seemed to sense your defiance, and his smile turned sharp, dangerous. “Oh, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Do you really think you can fight me? Resist me?”

He reached for your chin, tilting your head up to force you to meet his gaze. “I could break you so easily,” he whispered, his voice soft, almost tender, but the malice behind it was unmistakable. “You’d shatter like glass in my hands, and you’d love every second of it.”

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you couldn’t conceal the trembling breath that followed. “You feel that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a silken caress that taunted you, that sent a wave of heat pooling in your stomach. “You’re finally beginning to understand just how fragile you are. How the weight of your fate rests in my hands.”

You bit your lip, refusing to respond, refusing to give him what he wanted. But Azriel wasn’t deterred.

“If you submit,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “I might be kind. I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before. The good kind,” he added with a smirk, the warmth not quite reaching his eyes.

You shook your head, a soft whimper escaping your lips, and Azriel’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “Ah,” he said with wonder.

He stood, his shadowy wings unfurling slightly behind him as he towered over you, his presence suffocating. “Don’t worry,” he purred, his voice laced with cruelty. “We have all the time in the world for you to learn your place.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, his words pressing down like a heavy stone. The room seemed to close in around you, the thick shadows at the edges of the chamber whispering as if they were alive.

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice hoarse but defiant, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, dark amusement flickering behind them. “Oh, you still have some fight left in you?” His lips curled into a dangerous smile, his hand moving with deliberate slowness, a wordless assertion of his dominance. “I expected this. I want you to submit. I want you to be my well-behaved little angel. But breaking you is when I get my real fun.”

With a subtle tilt of his head, the shackles clicked open, replaced by his shadows that coiled around you like a vice. They lifted you effortlessly to your feet and pressed you against the cold stone wall, stretching your limbs taut against its unforgiving surface. You squirmed in an attempt to break free, to pull away from the wall, but their icy grip held firm, biting into your skin with a chilling intensity.

“You think you can resist me?” His voice was like velvet, smooth and dark. “Do you think defiance will protect you from what’s coming?”

Your lips parted, a snarl forming, but Azriel was faster. In an instant, he was inches from your face, his hand shooting out to grip your jaw with a bruising hold, forcing your gaze to lock with his. The intensity in his eyes sent your heart racing, a sickening mixture of fear and something else you refused to acknowledge settling deep in your gut.

“I know what you want,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath between you, yet it wrapped around your senses like a noose. "I can feel it—the fear, the rage, the way your body responds to me, even when your mind screams at you to fight." His thumb pressed against your lower lip, forcing it to part as his grip tightened. "Tell me... do you hate me for making you feel this way?"

Your breath hitched, the words catching in your throat. You wanted to scream at him, curse him for the torment, for the twisted thrill that pulsed through your veins despite yourself. But he gave you no time to respond before he released your jaw, his hand sliding down your throat to the delicate chain resting there.

“Your silence speaks volumes,” he continued, his voice thick with condescension as his fingers ghosted over your collarbone, trailing the elegant fabric of your dress that clung to your form. “But I’m going to get you to say it, one way or another.”

He stepped back, his wings casting dark shadows across the room as he moved with an unsettling grace. The tension built, thick and suffocating, as his hands came to rest on the waistband of his leathers. His gaze never left yours, a cruel spark igniting in the depths of his eyes as he undid the ties with deliberate slowness.

"I could break you," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. "It wouldn’t take much. Some pain, just a touch of pleasure." You felt the burn of humiliation bloom on your cheeks, your pulse hammering wildly in your ears as you caught sight of the sizeable bulge forming beneath his pants. "I could have you begging in no time. Soon enough, you’ll forget what it felt like to resist."

You clenched your jaw, fighting the panic that rose in your chest. You wanted to scream at him, to lash out, but your body betrayed you. A shiver sparked at your core, unwelcome and traitorous, tangled with the terror gripping your heart.

Azriel noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"See?" His voice was a dark purr, and he took a step closer, his body nearly flush with yours. "I don’t even have to touch you to get this reaction. You can hate me all you want, but your body… your body already knows who it belongs to."

“Fuck… you,” you managed to bite out, the tremor in your voice betraying the very defiance you clung to.

Azriel’s hands shot out, grabbing the fabric of your dress and tearing it effortlessly, the soft material falling away like paper. A sharp gasp escaped you as the cold air hit your bare skin, and you instinctively pulled back, only for the frigid wall behind you to meet your skin, as cold and unyielding as the look in his eyes.

“Oh, I think that’s exactly what you want,” he growled, his hand tracing the curve of your waist, the lightness of his touch mocking the brutality he’d just shown. “But I’m not going to make it that easy for you, angel.”

His shadows slithered across your exposed skin, cool and teasing, as they wound around your thighs and waist, keeping you completely at his mercy. With a fluid motion, Azriel shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it aside. You couldn’t focus on how he managed it, what with the wings; all that mattered was how good he looked, the crisp white dress shirt clinging to his muscular frame. As he rolled up the sleeves, revealing his forearms, your breath hitched. The taut skin, adorned with swirling tattoos, made your pulse race, a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you. Azriel leaned in, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his voice turned dark, a silken whisper tainted with cruelty.

“You’re going to beg for it,” he murmured. “And when you do, I’ll decide whether or not you’ve earned it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the stubborn fire in your eyes flickering back to life despite the overwhelming fear gripping you. “I’ll never beg,” you hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at him with all the fury you could muster. “Not for you. Not for anything.”

Azriel’s smirk widened, amusement dancing in his gaze. He straightened, his enormous wings flaring behind him as he studied you with a predatory glint, as though your refusal was nothing more than a trivial obstacle he intended to crush.

“Oh, angel…” He purred. The shadows around him thickened, swirling like smoke, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop, a chill creeping up your spine. Azriel stepped back, his fingers flexing at his sides before one hand slowly reached for the hilt on his thigh. “You’ll be begging,” he continued, his tone colder now, devoid of any false gentleness. His hand curled around the handle of a sleek, dark blade, glinting ominously in the low light as he pulled it free. “You will. You’ll beg me to fuck you if only to end the torment I’m about to put you through.”

Your heart stopped at the sight of the blade, its edge sharp enough to gleam even in the dim dungeon light. You fought to maintain your composure, but the icy grip of dread was tightening around your throat.

Azriel twirled the dagger in his hand with ease, the weapon seeming to pulse with the same lethal energy as its wielder. His eyes sparkled with sadistic delight as he held the blade, admired it. “This,” he said, his voice a whisper of silk and steel, “is Truth-Teller. Her name suits her well. She has a reputation for exposing secrets—cutting through lies to reveal what lies beneath.”

He stepped closer, the dagger’s dark metal almost shimmering with a life of its own. You swallowed hard.

“Still so sure of yourself?” he mocked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Still think you won’t break, angel?” He stopped just ahead of you, the tip of Truth-Teller coming to rest under your chin, tilting your head up with a featherlight touch that belied the threat behind it.

“I’ve broken countless souls—people stronger, more stubborn than you.” His smile was cruel, the sharp edge of his sadism glinting in his gaze. “You’ll be no different.”

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your pulse roaring in your ears as the cold steel kissed the skin beneath your jaw. You wanted to fight back, to scream, but the primal instinct of survival kept you frozen in place.

Azriel leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Where should I start?”

And without warning, he pressed the blade against the side of your neck, just enough to let the edge bite into your skin. A sharp, stinging pain flared as the first drop of blood trickled down your throat. You gasped, your body tensing, but Azriel’s shadows held you fast, refusing to let you move even as the blade moved lower, tracing a slow path along your collarbone.

“You’ll never beg, hm?” he mused aloud. Your mind raced, a storm of panic and adrenaline flooding your senses as the blade dipped lower, grazing the delicate skin of your chest. The shadows around your wrists tightened yet again, your fingers tingling with numbness.

“Azriel—” you gasped, your voice trembling with fear and rage, but he only smiled.

“As much as I love the sound of my name on your tongue… Beg,” he demanded, the word sharp and cold as the blade’s edge.

“I won’t,” you spat, even as the tears burned at the corners of your eyes. “I won’t give you the satisfaction, you sick bastard.”

His gaze intensified, a storm of fury and sadistic pleasure swirling within their depths. “You will.”

Azriel held your gaze as he slid the dagger’s handle between his teeth in a chilling display of confidence. The blade glinted ominously as he leaned closer. With a swift movement, he reached for the delicate fabric of your bra. The sound of tearing echoed in the dim space, sharp and final, as he pulled it apart. You gasped, shock and humiliation flooding your senses as you watched it fall to the ground. His hands moved down to your underwear, and with the same brutal efficiency, he tore it away—leaving your dignity in shreds along with it.

The chill of the air against your most sensitive skin only heightened the horror of the situation, but Azriel wasn’t done. He grabbed the dagger and stepped back slightly, his wings creating a dark silhouette behind him as he admired you with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

“Still so stubborn.” He traced the blade across your abdomen now, a thin red line left in its wake. “A shame, really. All this pride, and no one here to see it stripped away.” He pressed the tip of the dagger into your side, just enough to draw blood, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your throat.

“There it is,” Azriel groaned, his tone full of sick pleasure. “I love the pretty little sounds you make.” Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your mind spinning as he pulled the dagger away, your blood staining its dark edge. Vision blurring with tears, the fear and pain radiating through you overwhelmed your senses. You fought against the sob that threatened to escape, biting your lip until you tasted blood, but Azriel was relentless.

He stood flush against you now, his dark wings curling protectively around the both of you, creating an intimate cocoon as he raised the blade once more.

"You can stop this," he whispered, his tone almost gentle as if he were offering you salvation. "All you have to do is beg me. Say it. Tell me what I want to hear."

Your body trembled, every fiber of your being screaming at you to give in, to make the pain stop before it got worse. But even as your eyes stung, even as your heart raced with terror, you clenched your jaw, forcing the words past your lips.

“Go… to hell.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “Oh, angel,” he purred, his hand caressing your cheek in mock affection. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

In an instant, he thrust Truth-Teller into your thigh, the pain exploding through you like a lightning strike. A choked scream tore from your lips as the cold steel pierced your flesh, a searing heat radiating from the wound. The shock sent your vision spiraling, the world around you dimming as you fought against the pain that clawed at your senses. Glancing down, you saw the dagger embedded shallowly, crimson oozing from the wound and trickling down your leg. You desperately hoped it hadn’t struck anything vital; he likely wouldn’t want to kill you—not yet. Dragging this out seemed far more his style. When he pulled the dagger out, more blood trickled down your leg, the warmth mixing with the sharp agony and flooding your body with a dizzying rush.

Azriel watched you with a dark satisfaction, his gaze never leaving yours as you writhed against the restraints, your body trembling. He leaned in closer, the dagger still gleaming with your blood.

“There it is,” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for.”

The agony radiated through you, a white-hot flame that ignited every nerve ending. You gasped for breath, trying to steady yourself against the sharp edge of the pain, but Azriel’s presence only deepened the ache. You gritted your teeth, refusing to show any further weakness. But as the pain began to ebb, something else took hold—an unsettling awareness of him, the predatory gleam in his eyes igniting a twisted sense of anticipation.

With a twisted smile, he pressed the blade lightly against your lips, enjoying the way you instinctively recoiled. “Let’s make this a bit more personal, shall we?” he taunted. “Open up for me.”

You hesitated, but the cruel glint in his eyes forced your mouth open. He wiped the blade clean on your tongue, dragging it along the moist surface before pulling it away, leaving you to taste the metallic sting of your own blood.

“Look at you,” he purred, his voice thick with amusement as his hand slid between your thighs, close but not quite touching. “Trying so hard to resist me. But I bet you’re dripping for me already. If I checked right now, you’d just soak my fingers, wouldn’t you?” His thumb grazed the sensitive skin near your core, and your hips jerked involuntarily, a choked sound escaping your throat before you could stop it, and Azriel’s dark laugh sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

“Oh, don’t be ashamed,” he taunted, pressing his thumb against your clit now, circling slowly, torturously. “You can’t help it. You want this—you want me. As much as you hate it, your body knows what it wants.”

You couldn’t help the desperate whimper that escaped your lips, the humiliation of it sending a flush of heat through your cheeks. You hated him for this, for kidnapping you, for torturing you, for stabbing you; for turning your own body against you, for making you want him even when every fiber of your being screamed that this was wrong.

But that was the worst part—you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want the game to end.

Azriel’s lips ghosted over your throat, his shadows slithering their way up your arms and legs, wrapping around you like a dark caress. “I told you,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk, “I’ll break you. And when I do, you’ll thank me for it.”

His hand slipped lower, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from your throat as he finally plunged his fingers deep inside you with cruel precision. You arched against him, the pleasure overwhelming, but he wasn’t gentle. His pace was brutal and relentless, and you were caught between the pain and the pleasure, your body trembling as you fought against the wave crashing over you.

“Azriel—” His name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, and you saw the dark gleam of victory in his golden eyes as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear.

“That’s it, angel,” he whispered, histone one of dark satisfaction. “Say my name. Let me hear you beg for more.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him that satisfaction again. But he only laughed, the sound dark and twisted, as he pulled his fingers away just as you grew accustomed to them.

“You ignoring me now?” he growled, gripping your chin to force your gaze back to him. The scent of your arousal lingered on his fingers and ebbed through the room.

A twisted grin crept onto his lips, and you could see the darkness swirling in his eyes. “You want me to get a bigger knife?” he taunted, letting the question linger in the air, heavy and menacing.

“No, no, no!” The words escaped your lips in a frantic rush, panic flooding your veins. “Please, Azriel, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he interrupted, his tone dripping with mockery. “Don’t give you what you deserve? You think I’m being too cruel? You asked for this, angel. You put yourself in my hands.”

“I didn’t put myself anywhere!” you screamed, your voice breaking under the weight of your rage and fear and pain. “You stole me away! This isn’t my choice, it’s yours!”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, his grin vanishing as something colder, sharper settled over his expression. His grip on your chin tightened. “Choice?” he echoed, voice soft but filled with venom. “You think you’d choose anything different if you knew what was good for you?”

He leaned closer, his gaze holding yours captive, his breath brushing your cheek. “You’ve belonged to me far longer than you realize, angel. There’s no choice in that—no escape.” His fingers traced along your jaw, deceptively gentle, before he wiped his slick fingers clean across your lips and cheeks, smearing it on your skin.

“Keep telling yourself this isn’t what you want,” he murmured, turning away from you, the hint of a challenge in his voice. “I’ll go all the way back to Velaris for a few days, take care of some things. It should give you some time to think things over. How’s that sound?”

All the way back to Velaris. The words echoed in your mind, sinking like stones in your stomach. He’d brought you far enough that he was confident that not a soul would come looking. The High Lord couldn’t have sent for this. He couldn’t know. What would he say if he did? What would he do if he realized that one of his most trusted had taken a civilian, had hidden her away in some forsaken cell beyond reach, beyond hope? All for what—so he could use and abuse you?

“A little quiet now, hm? What’s wrong, angel?” he called over his shoulder, his tone almost casual as he fastened his pants back up.

“...Don’t go…” The words slipped from your lips, barely more than a whisper, fragile and small. You didn’t want him to leave you here alone, hurt and bleeding. The thought of being abandoned in this cold, dark place twisted your insides with fear. What if he didn’t come back? What if you were left to suffer without food or water, trapped in silence with your pain?

Azriel paused mid-step, a smirk playing at his lips as he turned to face you, his eyes glinting with delight. “What was that?” His voice was low and smooth, wrapping around you like a shroud.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. “...Don’t go,” the plea escaped you, trembling with desperation.

His smile widened, satisfaction radiating from him as he stepped closer, invading your space. “Oh? A sudden change of heart…” His tone dripped with mockery, and he leaned in, his gaze piercing. “You want me to stay? You’d rather have me keep hurting you than be alone?”

You held your breath, heart racing as you struggled to take your mind off the wound in your thigh. “I—I just…” You couldn’t find the words, your mind a whirlpool of fear and longing.

“You’re helpless without me,” he continued. “Lost, just a little thing waiting for someone to take care of you. Who else would keep you company, hm? Who else would make sure you’re protected and safe?”

“I don’t want you to hurt me anymore,” you choked out against your dry throat, desperation coating each word. “You’ve made your point. Just don’t leave me here. I can’t… I can’t be alone like this.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a predatory grin spreading across his face. “Are you sure? You sure you don’t need me to hurt you some more to knock some sense into you?” He casually placed his hand back on the hilt of his dagger, a glint of menace in his eyes.

Your heart plummeted, a heavy stone of dread sinking into your chest as you registered his movement. Panic surged through your veins like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending. You thrashed against the restraints, your breath quickening, pulling against the shadows as you fought for release. “No, no! Please, don’t do it!” The words came out as a desperate wail, raw and fractured, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grappled with the overwhelming fear of what was to come. “I can’t—please! I’ll do anything! Just don’t hurt me again!”

He stepped closer, cradling your face with his hand, his thumb brushing away your tears with a disarming tenderness that twisted your insides. “Easy now, angel. Calm down. It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice a soft lullaby laced with a dark undercurrent that made your heart race in terror and confusion. “You’re safe with me.”

As he spoke, his warmth enveloped you, a strange comfort that made your breathing steady, even as dread coiled in your stomach. You fought against the whirlwind of emotions, struggling to process the truth of his words.

“Now, if you don’t want me to hurt you,” he said, his tone honeyed, “you’ll have to tell me what you do want.”

You hesitated, a lump of shame and fear forming in your throat. “I want… to be left alone. I want you to let me go.”

He shook his head slowly, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re lying. The smell of your arousal has been thick in this room since you woke up.” His gaze bore into yours, challenging you to deny the truth.

“Tell me again, what do you want?” he pressed, his tone deceptively sweet.

You swallowed hard, the truth clawing its way to the surface, a torrent of shame and desperate longing. “I want you to touch me.”

His grip on your jaw tightened, rough and possessive, holding you in place as he leaned in closer. “Now, that’s not how you ask for things, is it?”

“Please…” The word fell from your lips, fragile and yearning, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the monster before you.

“Try again,” he urged, eyes dark with hunger, his anticipation palpable in the air between you.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice trembling. “I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me.”

With each plea, the desperation clawed at your insides. Maybe if you just told him what he wanted to hear… “I want your hands on my skin,” you gasped, shame mingling with need. “I want you to make me feel good—please, Azriel.”

“Please, I need you,” you cried, your voice cracking. “I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to make me feel good. I want you to use me, to claim me.”

“Make me yours,” you begged, each word spilling out in a desperate rush of heat as you struggled against the shadows binding your arms away from him. “I want to feel you, every inch of you. Please, just touch me, fill me up… I want to be yours, completely.”

A heavy silence enveloped you, the air thick with tension as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Time stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity, and your heart raced, dread and anticipation swirling within you. Just when you thought you might break under his gaze, he spoke, his voice laced with wonder.

“I knew you’d come around,” he said, a dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “I always knew you were a smart girl.”

With that, his hands descended, fingers brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness, teasing the edges of your vulnerability. He traced the outline of your breasts, his touch both electrifying and infuriating, each caress igniting a fire within you. You arched your back instinctively, desperate for more, but he only chuckled, enjoying the game.

“Tell me, angel,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, “how do you want to feel? What do you want me to do?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, trapped by the heat coursing through you.

A flicker of impatience crossed his face, and in an instant, his hand connected with your cunt, a sharp slap that sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure through you. “Answer me,” he demanded, voice sharp and commanding.

“Please, Azriel!” you gasped, urgency flooding your voice. “I want you to touch me, to make me feel everything.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers now exploring, slipping between your thighs, brushing against your slick folds. His touch was both gentle and ruthless, a dance of pleasure that made your heart pound. He took his time, reveling in the way your body responded to him, the way you quivered under his touch.

His fingers played with your clit, circling and teasing, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. “Feel that? This is what you wanted all along.” He watched you intently, his gaze drinking in every reaction, every twitch of your body.

“Now tell me again,” he coaxed, pressing deeper, his fingers sinking into you, “what do you want?”

Your voice failed you as a loud, throaty moan pushed past your lips instead.

“Beautiful, but not quite what I’m looking for,” he said, his tone mocking as he delivered another sharp slap to your sensitive heat, making you cry out. “I need to hear you say it. What do you want, my angel?”

“I want to feel you inside me!” you sobbed, the words spilling out in a rush. “Please, Azriel, I want you to fuck me!”

“There you go,” he murmured, a smile more beautiful than eerie spreading across his face—the first like it that you’d seen from him. His fingers curled inside you, coaxing and pushing you closer to the edge. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as your foreheads met, neither of you looking away from the other for a moment. The intensity of his gaze anchored you, making every pulse of sensation feel more profound, more consuming.

He pumped his fingers into you with a brutal urgency, each thrust deep and unyielding. The force of his movements sent shockwaves through your body, the slick sound of his fingers pumping into you filled the air, drowning out your whimpers and gasps as he worked you.

Azriel added a third finger, the sensation igniting a fire in your core that was impossible to ignore. His fingertips pressed against that sensitive spot deep inside, hitting it with punishing precision that made you gasp and writhe.

“Look at you,” he growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he watched your face contort between pleasure and pain. “So eager for it, so ready to fall apart for me.” He quickened the pace, fingers jackhammering in and out of you, but it was his words that pushed you over the edge. A wave of heat surged through you, igniting every nerve ending with a ferocity that eclipsed the sharp ache in your leg. Your body clenched around his fingers, a pulsing rhythm that felt primal and consuming.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and sardonic as he watched you come down from your high. “Oh, sweet girl,” he tutted, amusement in his eyes. “You’ll learn not to cum without my permission, don’t worry. I’ll be here to train you, we’ll have plenty of time to go over all my rules.”

His words washed over you like a distant echo, the remnants of your climax still vibrating through your body. All you could think about was how you wanted—needed—to touch him, to feel him against your skin. You squirmed against the shadows, desperation clawing at you as you met his gaze, wide and pleading. “Please… can I touch you?”

He leaned in with a predatory glint in his eyes. “Oh, you want to touch me, do you?” The way he said it was almost a taunt, and your heart raced at the thought of being freed from your restraints.

“Yes! Please, I need to feel you.” Your voice was thick with desperation, the aching longing for him driving every word. “Just let me… I promise I’ll be good.”

He regarded you for a long moment, the air between you thick with tension. Finally, he leaned back slightly, fingers still curled around the back of your neck, and considered your request. “If I let you, you have to promise to follow my lead, to obey. One step out of line and it’s right back–”

You nodded fervently, heat filling you once more at the idea of being able to touch him. “I promise! I’ll do whatever you say.”

His gaze locked onto yours, the predatory glint in his eyes making your heart race as he weighed your request. The silence stretched between you, heavy with anticipation. Finally, he made his decision, a smirk ghosting over his lips. With a flick of his wrist, the shadows binding you retreated, and you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding your senses. But before you could fully regain your balance, he caught you, his strength effortlessly cradling you against him as your injured leg buckled beneath you.

“Easy there,” he murmured, his voice mellow. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the table against the far wall. The shadows surged around him, sweeping aside the array of wicked instruments scattered across its surface, clearing the space just for you. With a gentle yet firm motion, he laid you down, the coolness of the surface contrasting sharply against the heat radiating from your skin.

He climbed over you, his body a delicious weight, as he closed the distance between you. The first brush of his lips against yours ignited a wildfire of sensations, overwhelming you in a rush of heat and longing. He kissed you with a hunger that felt almost desperate, devouring you with a need that matched your own. His mouth moved against yours, slow at first, savoring the taste of your lips.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “I can still taste you.”

From when he wiped his fingers over your mouth earlier, you realized. With that, he pulled away and off the table, his dark eyes glimmering with satisfaction. Azriel pulled you closer to the edge of the table, wrapping your legs around his head with a possessive grip.

He wasted no time, his mouth on you like a starved male. His tongue flicked and danced, eager to taste you, and you gasped at the sudden rush of sensation. The warmth of his mouth enveloped you, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your core. He licked with fervor, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulled you closer, encouraging you to let go, to surrender completely to the ecstasy he was offering.

Every flick of his tongue, every hungry suck sent your mind spiraling, drowning in a sea of pleasure and need. The world around you faded, leaving only the intense sensations as he feasted on you, the sound of your pleasure echoing off the cold stone walls.

“Azriel…” you gasped, the name escaping your lips like a prayer, urging him on as you pressed your body closer to him, craving more, needing more. His name continued to fall from your lips like a desperate plea, each syllable laced with urgency as he continued his relentless assault. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the overwhelming pleasure almost blinding. His mouth worked with an insatiable hunger, devouring you with every flick and thrust of his tongue.

The sensations were electrifying, the way he alternated between teasing and consuming you. He knew exactly how to draw out your pleasure, his tongue dancing against you with skillful precision, making you writhe beneath him. You could hardly focus on anything else, each pull and lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, muffling the pain from your stab wound into a dull throb.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly against your skin. “So responsive. So eager for more.” His breath was hot against you, the sound of his satisfaction fueling your desire even further.

“Please,” you begged, your voice full of desperation and need. “I can’t… I can’t hold on much longer.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich with satisfaction, and the vibration sent shivers coursing through you. “Good. I want you to let go.” His words ignited a fire deep within you, pushing you closer to the precipice.

Just as the tension peaked, the sensation reached a fever pitch, he pulled back slightly, leaving you teetering on the brink. “What’s wrong? Can’t you take it?” His eyes sparkled with wicked delight, and his face glistened with your arousal.

“Azriel! Don’t stop—please, just don’t stop!” You thrashed against the table, the need clawing at you, the ache for release nearly unbearable.

He smirked, the dark glimmer in his eyes promising more. “That’s better. But you know the rules now. You have to ask nicely.”

“Please, please… I need to cum,” you whimpered, your hands threading through his hair, desperate for his touch. “I want to feel you make me cum. I need you, Azriel. Please, can I cum?”

His fingers gripped your thighs even tighter, pressing down just enough to keep you from squirming. “Such a good girl,” he cooed, and with a wicked grin, he dove back in, his mouth devouring you once more. The combination of his roughness and your desperate need for release was intoxicating, and you felt the pressure build within you again, faster this time, more intense.

As he continued his relentless ministrations, the world around you faded into a blur. You could feel the walls closing in, the sensation of the table beneath you fading into insignificance as you focused solely on him, on the way his mouth worked against you, pulling you back to that dizzying height of pleasure.

Then, without warning, he pulled away again, leaving you gasping and trembling, the edge tantalizingly out of reach. “Not yet,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he watched you writhe in frustration.

“Why are you doing this?” you cried, the frustration mingling with need, desperate tears prickling at your eyes.

“Because, angel,” he replied languidly, “you need to learn patience. And how to ask for what you want.”

Your heart raced, every fiber of your being screaming for release as you met his gaze, desperation clawing at your insides. You could feel the weight of his dark satisfaction pressing down on you, but beneath that, there was a flicker of hope. Maybe if you asked just right…

“Azriel…” you breathed, your voice soft and trembling. “Please… I want to feel you inside me. I need to cum so badly. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” You let the sweetness of your tone wrap around your words, pouring all your need into that one plea. “Just let me cum, please. I need to feel that pleasure with you. I want you, all of you.”

He paused, his expression shifting as he seemed to consider your request. The intensity of his gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world outside faded into oblivion. “Such a sweet little thing,” he mused, and the praise sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

“Please,” you whispered again, your voice barely more than a breath. “Let me cum. I promise I’ll be good.”

The moment hung heavy in the air, charged with unspoken promises and desires. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he nodded. “I know what you’re doing, angel, using your words so sweetly like that. But I think you’ve earned it.”

With a swift, fluid motion, he buried his mouth against you once more, his tongue working with renewed intensity as he coaxed your pleasure to the forefront. The tension built rapidly, spiraling out of control as your body instinctively moved against him, chasing that elusive high.

“Yes! Just like that!” you gasped, every nerve ending alight as he pushed you closer to the edge, his fingers burying themselves into you with a fervor that left you breathless. The world narrowed down to the sensation of him, of the way he moved and the heat building within you.

And then, with a sharp, electrifying pull, the dam broke. Pleasure washed over you in a wild, chaotic wave, crashing against your senses as you cried out his name. Your body shuddered, the culmination of all your need flooding through you, eclipsing everything else until there was nothing but the sweet release and the aching satisfaction that followed.

As the last ripples of your orgasm faded, you were left breathless and trembling, the heat still coursing through your veins. But Azriel wasn’t finished. He pulled back, a wicked smile curling at his lips, his gaze dark and hungry as he climbed over you, positioning himself between your legs.

“Now that you’re warmed up,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “let’s see how well you can take me.”

As the last ripples of your orgasm faded, you were left breathless and trembling, the heat still coursing through your veins. But Azriel wasn’t finished. He leaned back, a wicked smile curling at his lips, his gaze dark and hungry as he slowly began to undress.

First, he kicked off his shoes, the soft thud echoing in the silence. You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him as he moved, the muscles in his legs shifting beneath the fabric of his pants. He took care in unbuttoning his dress shirt, each click of the buttons amplifying the anticipation thrumming in the air.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening as you took in the sight of him. His chest was sculpted, muscles taut and defined, each movement revealing the intricate patterns of tattoos that snaked over his shoulders and down his arms. The sharp angles of his physique made you ache with want, your gaze lingering on the way the light danced across his skin.

As he peeled away the shirt and tossed it aside, he moved to his pants, unzipping them with a languid grace. The fabric slipped down his hips, revealing the strong contours of his thighs. You felt your pulse quicken, heart racing as your eyes finally landed on the impressive sight of him, bare and completely unrestrained. His sheer size stole your breath, a wave of longing washing over you as you imagined how he would fill you.

You felt a rush of excitement and fear as he climbed over you and aligned himself, the heat radiating between your bodies igniting your skin.

With a low growl, Azriel pressed forward, pushing the tip of himself into you, already stretching you more than you were used to. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, pleasure mixing with discomfort as your body struggled to accommodate him. He pulled back slightly, teasing you, as if savoring the tension.

“Easy now,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “you’ll get used to it.” With each slow push, he sank deeper, relentless and rough, forcing you to adjust to his size, leaving you gasping and craving more. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of ecstasy and pain as he filled you, inch by agonizing inch.

Finally, with a deep, powerful thrust, he bottomed out, burying himself fully inside you. The stretch was almost unbearable, a burning sensation that made you feel both full and utterly consumed. Your body clenched around him instinctively, desperate to accommodate the fullness he brought.

“Look at you,” he breathed, voice low and thick with satisfaction, “taking me like a good girl.” His hips rolled, pressing deeper, and you moaned involuntarily, the mixture of pleasure and pain making your head spin. “I knew you’d love this,” he continued, eyes glinting with a wicked delight. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

As he began to thrust, each movement was deliberate, the rhythm punishing. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips, anchoring you in place. He punctuated his words with another deep thrust, your body responding to his dominance, the sensation igniting a fire deep within you. “Now tell me how much you love it,” he demanded, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned closer, his voice dripping with authority. “Say it, angel. Tell me you’re mine.”

As he filled you completely, your body began to adjust, each thrust pushing you further into a haze of pleasure. You met his gaze, the defiance in your eyes having burnt out long ago. “I’m—I’m yours,” you replied breathlessly.

Azriel thrust harder, forcing a moan from you. “You’ll learn to love this, to love being mine.” His voice dripped with arrogance, and you hated how much you wanted to agree. “See how easy this is? Just give in and let me take care of you.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, filling you to the hilt, and your body began to instinctively arch against him, craving every rough, delicious inch. “You feel that?” he taunted, his voice thick with pleasure. “You were made for me, for this. You’ll come to crave it, just as I do.”

“Azriel…” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. He pulled back, almost all the way out, just to plunge back in, the force of him making your breath hitch.

Azriel's voice dropped to a low growl as he continued to thrust into you, each movement powerful and precise. “You’re going to learn what it means to truly belong to someone, to be mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Every inch of you will be devoted to me, and I’ll teach you how to crave my touch.”

“Please,” you breathed, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through you. “You’ll see, angel. From now on, every moment of your life will revolve around my needs and desires. You’ll wake up thinking of me, and when you’re not with me, you’ll ache for me.” He thrust deeper, punctuating his words with each deliberate movement. “You’ll be begging for my attention, begging for me to touch you, and you’ll learn to love every second of it.”

You could feel the heat pooling within you, the way his words curled around your mind, mixing with the sensations he was drawing out of you. “But what if I don’t?” you challenged, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and need.

His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with a predatory intensity. “Oh, you will. If you don’t learn to beg for what you want, I'll make sure you experience pain in ways you can’t imagine. Trust me,” he added, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear, “if you refuse to submit, I’ll make you wish you had. It won’t take long for you to want to please me.”

Your eyes widened at the thought, but you couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at his words. “I do want to please you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, filled with an eagerness you couldn’t hide.

“Good girl,” he praised, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “But first, you need to say it. Say you want me to take care of you.”

“I want you to take care of me,” you murmured after a beat, the confession spilling from your lips as your body responded eagerly to his dominance.

“Now thank me for saving you. Thank me for rescuing you from that sad, miserable life you were living,” he said, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to thrust into you, his hair tousled and damp, clinging to his forehead with sweat.

You swallowed hard, the words heavy on your tongue. “Thank you for saving me, Azriel. Thank you for making my life worth living.”

“See? It’s not so hard to submit, is it?” he taunted, thrusting deeper once more, making you curse as he filled you completely. “You’re going to love every moment, and I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.” He looped a finger around the necklace he bought you, eyeing you as though you were a prized possession.

He continued to thrust into you, each movement rhythmic and relentless, his hands gripping your hips, holding you firmly in place. “You’ll learn to follow my rules, to understand your place,” he said, his voice a seductive murmur. “And in return, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. All you have to do is let go.”

“Let go,” you echoed, the words hanging between you, filled with promise and danger.

“That’s right,” he urged, pulling your legs over his shoulders in a mating press as his thrusts grew more powerful. His gaze locked onto yours, daring you to surrender completely. “Let go, angel. Give yourself to me. Show me how much you crave this.”

Your body trembled with a surge of need as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I need you, Azriel,” you whispered, your voice raw with desire. You rocked your hips up to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm, desperate to take him deeper. Your nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on. “Fill me, Azriel. Make me yours. I want to feel you everywhere,” you begged, the intensity of your words surprising you.

You kissed him fiercely, your lips crashing against his, tasting the salt of his sweat. Your tongue darted out, meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth, the vibrations traveling through both of you. Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him in place as you moved together, the friction building into an unbearable heat. “I’m yours,” you panted, your voice breaking with the weight of your admission. “Only yours.”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction, and he growled in approval, his movements growing even more demanding. “That’s it, angel. Show me how much you need this. Show me how much you need me,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust.

Your head fell back against the table as you surrendered completely, giving yourself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. “I need you, Azriel. I need you so much,” you cried out, your body shuddering as you reached your peak, every nerve ending on fire.

As you came apart beneath him, you clung to him desperately. He continued to thrust, his pace relentless and punishing. “I’m going to make this pretty pussy mine,” he growled, his voice low and feral. “Gonna pound you whenever I want, and you’re going to fucking beg me not to stop.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw dominance in his tone sending shivers down your spine. “Please, Azriel,” you whimpered, your body arching into him.

He smirked, his eyes blazing with possessive fire. “You’re going to learn to love every second of it, to crave it,” he said, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his control slipping. “Every second of the day. You’ll be begging for my attention, begging for me to fuck you, and I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his release hitting hard as he groaned your name. “You’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. “Always.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @anarchiii

@randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex @fourthwing4ever

#kinktober #acotar #acotar smut #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut

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zarnzarn · 8 months ago

Text

Odysseus' wife owns a gold chain.

The first week they were together after he returned, she'd slithered it out of its box when he was distracted, holding it up in the dim lamplight.

"You left my sight today," She snarls, beautiful in her fury. Insane and flawed and real and his.

"For ten minutes," he reminds her fondly. "To help bring in a sack of grain."

"Too long," She declares, voice choking up with tears. He reaches up to wipe at her waterline, heart aching. "Leave such things to other people."

"My darling wife, so strong," Odysseus coos. "You know that you ask the impossible. But I can see you have an idea?"

Penelope grins again, almost cruel, and lays the chain across his chest, heavy and glinting. "It is designed to be inescapable. Unbreakable. It will not let you walk even past the sands of our shoreline, let alone the docks."

His stomach swoops in excitement and some stirring form of arousal.

"I was going to clamp it on your wrists when you were sleeping," She says casually. "But now I find I want you to look as I shut it upon you."

Another man would have started shouting. Pushed her off, threatened her with a sword; a sane one would go running for the hills.

Odysseus smiles. Cocks a brow. "Wrists?"

The King of Ithaka, they say, has chains around his feet like a common slave.

It echoes in the palace like a dancer's anklets, tinkling and rustling when he walks around his home laughing with his son, when he makes official trips to the markets and to the goat festivals, when he comes to eat.

It is on him when he teaches the children of Ithaka to spar, somehow never an impediment for the crafty king, only a tool to be used against them. He can run faster than his own son even with them on, although Prince Telemachus is growing into his own terrifying capabilities at an astounding rate with every passing day, and many already fear his beauty and his wit.

("Huh. Mom get you those?" Telemachus says on the first day. Odysseus idly wonders if he should be worried about the utter lack of surprise on his son's face, and what it implied about Penelope's parenting and ruling skills.

"Yes," He says, pulling him into a side-embrace and kissing him on the forehead. Telemachus relaxes into his arms like a kitten and he smiles warmly. "I don't think she quite plans to let me out of them."

"Yeah, sounds like mom," His son yawns. "You should get someone to make sure it doesn't chafe, though.")

The King wears them even when nobles and dignitaries come to visit, of which there are many. Never bats an eye at their cries of astonishment and outrage, like he has accepted already that he will be in them forever.

"My wife doesn't want me to leave the island," He says jokingly, when someone whispers concerns and questions to him. "Hence, the chains!"

For a week, perhaps, an outsider to the island could consider it stress, a story to laugh at later once the fear had passed. But the Queen of Ithaka shows no signs of telling her husband to take them off, and everyone in Greece who was left to her tender mercies for twenty years knows better than to trust her placid, warm smile enough to confront her about the madness. They rule together now, and the chains remain on in some horrific perversion of royalty, even as they lean into each other and whisper and giggle like infatuated youngsters.

His comrades from Troy, when they come, shout in outrage, drawing their swords, but are quickly reassured by the people of Ithaka themselves, who point out the way the King never complains about them, visibly melts whenever his wife possessively tangles one of her own feet in the chains to pull it shorter at their stares, looking at her with nothing but adoration.

("Are you truly fine with it?" Hermes is the only one to ask, and get a true answer. His ankle-wings flutter in uncomfortable nervousness whenever the chain clinks- if it can hold one of his blood, it can most likely hold Hermes himself, too- and Odysseus knocks his head into the other's shoulder reassuringly.

"I am," He says truthfully. "It keeps her calm, and it keeps me happy- to belong. To choose being tied up, rather than being forced."

"It sounds horrific and I do not understand it or you in the slightest," Hermes replies cheerfully, ruffling his hair. "But to each their own, I suppose.")

The only time the King of Ithaka is let out of his chains is in the early morning, when the sun is still down and no one can see them.

Penelope and Odysseus both enjoy their baths, and he lies back on their bed after, still dripping with water, and lifts his feet in the air seductively. Penelope strokes his legs lovingly, pressing a kiss to his calloused ankles before unmercifully clamping the chains shut once more.

(Athena comes in once during this moment, swooping in silently through the window. Odysseus meets her eyes over Penelope's shoulder, and for a moment the mad thrill of it all recedes at her knowing gaze.

She raises a judgemental eyebrow, questioning. He gives her a small smile and shrugs the best he can without tipping Penelope off.

She shakes her head, a fond smile on her lips, and makes her way closer. Penelope's breath catches as Athena places a hand on her shoulder and she looks up sharply at their patron, some vestige of scared guilt passing over her face. Vulnerable.

Odysseus knows that it is only Athena and Athena alone who Penelope will listen to, if the goddess tells her to take the chains off. His wife braces herself, as if preparing for an argument, but he knows Athena can see just as well as he how deeply their separation hurt Penelope, why he agrees day after day to let her put them on, indulges in her possessive madness- although his agreement doesn't really factor in here much, he knows.

Athena studies the both of them once more, and then smirks. "You should get him the full set.")

Odysseus' wife owns a gold chain.

Years have passed, and he still thinks her smile is at its most beautiful when she tightens it around his feet.

#odypen #odysseus #penelope #epic the musical #telemachus #hermes #athena #hints of odypenath but shes more their homoerotic best friend in this one #for hermes this is a horror story athena gives it 2 thumbs up and considers it kink #its both lol #my fic #i really. should remember to tag that.

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strawberrystepmom · 6 months ago

Text

cw: alcohol mention, suggestive. narumi x f!reader. anatomy is mentioned (breasts). reader works for the jakdf as a seismologist and is specifically not japanese or from japan. | word count: 1.2k, reading time: 5 minutes.

“Tachibana is such an asshole.”

Narumi’s rant, the one that started while you gently scrubbed his back in the shower after scurrying back to your apartment hand in hand, has managed to continue all the way into your bedroom.

“I swear to anyone listening I’m going to make him run until his legs fall off tomorrow.”

Tonight marked the third time the first division has invited you out to enjoy drinks and dinner with them in the three months you’ve officially been here. They intentionally sat you and Gen next to each other, pouring gratuitous amounts of alcohol into both of your cups the moment they were emptied.

“That’s not very nice,” you tut from your side of the bed, comforter still pulled down so your boyfriend can climb in beside you. He does so with a groan, instantly reaching for your chest to squeeze one of your t-shirt clad tits.

“It’s not very nice of him to look down your shirt while I’m sitting right fucking there either, now is it?”

Your nipple pebbles in response to the stimulation and he chuckles to himself, kicking the blankets around his legs until he’s settled.

A night out that turns into a grudge isn’t an entirely uncommon occurrence for him. Every time you come along he ends up frustrated that someone wants to grab your attention from him, asking you questions about your personal life and how you’re finding Tokyo now that autumn has slowly started to give way to winter. Does everyone have to be so friendly all the time?

Turning your head to face him for a moment, you raise a brow and smirk.

“Are you jealous?”

Sighing, he tips his head back against the pillow that has been designated as his since the first time he slept over and stares at the ceiling.

“No, I just don’t want him thinking he can look at what belongs to me.”

A puzzled giggle escapes you, Gen still kneading at the soft flesh of your breast.

“Is that not the textbook definition of jealousy?” There’s the faintest trace of a pout across his handsome features, dimly lit as they are in your dark bedroom. “Besides, it’s not like you publicly claim me. He has no way of knowing and I have a feeling that if anything, he was trying to distract me long enough for Shinonome to talk to you.”

The pout is gone, replaced with gritted teeth. A nerve has been struck, although you didn’t quite intend it to end up that way. It’s enough that he had to watch you be ogled by another man as you graciously leaned forward to fill his cup as he has done yours, now you’ve brought up his subordinate he knows bothers you thanks to her open admiration that leans on more than just hero worship in your opinion.

Clearly he isn’t the only one suffering from a little condition that starts with a J and has a tendency to turn someone green.

“That’s your decision not mine,” he shoots back, shifting onto his side so he can curl his body around you. His grip on your flesh will leave behind marks if it goes on too long. With a hiss, you reach for his wrist but he untenses his fingers before you can. The touch returns to the same gentle massaging motion although his mouth remains open and sneering. Narumi sighs and his second hand joins the first in squeezing.

“Even if they found out, what would they do? Kick me out?”

You turn onto your side, facing him, fingers making their way around the back of his neck to gently scratch his neck and scalp the way you know he likes. It isn’t hard to make him putty in your hands and although you try not to resort to extremes, you need every tool you can get when he’s this worked up.

His eyes flutter shut and the clench in his jaw slowly relaxes under your gentle touch, softer than maybe this level of petulance deserves but love makes us all soft in ways we don’t always expect.

It’s why the fear of being found out always tinges these intimate moments with a bit more gray than you’d prefer. You used to simply like Gen. Enjoying his company gradually turned into being unable to function without it which has now led to this, two bodies in one bed, both smelling a bit of sake even though you showered together before peeling the sheets back.

Somehow being here with him feels more fleeting than loving him from just over 5,000 miles away.

The fraternization policy at the JAKDF is loosely enforced for enlisted members. Unfortunately, you are not enlisted nor is your work that of killing kaiju which automatically makes you slightly more disposable than your partner.

“Maybe not you but they’d definitely fire me. Then I’d have to go home, we’d be long distance again, and you’d never get to sleep at night.” Shaking your head, you lean in to press your nose against his. “Not an ideal situation.”

He dips his head to press his nose right back against yours.

“I could just tell them you’re essential to keep me happy,” he offers and you giggle. “I’m not joking. Keeping me happy should be their first priority anyway.”

There is a bit more humor in what he’s saying than he’ll let on, especially since you both know his subordinates are onto you to some extent.

Giggling, you rub your nose against his again. He takes it further, dipping his head so that your lips brush against his. Ever greedy, he kisses you so much it almost makes you forget what you’re about to say. You break away before any further distraction can appear, lips still touching even if they aren’t locked.

“Let’s pretend that you gave them such an ultimatum. What would you even say?”

The once gentle scratching against his scalp has become light tugging at his dark strands of hair and his knee has shoved its way between your thighs, the room growing warmer with each touch. Any distance remaining between the two of you has now been diminished, skin touching skin while he gazes down at you with heavily lidded eyes.

“I’d remind them of how difficult I was before being able to cum in you all the time.”

Opening your mouth to dispute his claims, or to at least ask him to have some decorum, he takes the opportunity to kiss you again before you can. His tongue slides between your teeth to tangle with yours, hands sliding from your chest to your hips and ass that are now being squeezed and kneaded.

Pulling away to catch your breath, lips slicked with spit and pussy resting warmly against the taut muscle of his thigh while he grinds it against you, you giggle breathlessly.

“And who else can say that they do that? Certainly not Tachi –”

Gen captures your lips once again, preventing another man’s name from spilling out of your sweet lips hurriedly. He can let bygones be bygones and if tonight keeps up how it’s going so far, he won’t make him run until his legs break in the morning for stealing a peek.

Maybe.

#gen narumi x reader #narumi x reader #narumi x you #kn8 x you #narumi imagines #kn8 imagines #kendall writes #genken

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mw00nie · 5 months ago

Text

Shoulder to shoulder: Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chapter 2

a/n: English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes that may have occurred. This took me a while to write; I'm sorry. The first draft was a mess 😭😭

summary: Jake takes a liking to the random sleepy stranger who he always sits next to on the subway.

w.c.: 5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The subway car rocked gently as Jake adjusted his seat, trying to make himself comfortable without drawing attention. Y/N sat next to him, her head bobbing slightly as sleep threatened to overtake her. Jake noticed her struggling to stay awake and smiled to himself. She was clearly exhausted—a feeling he could relate to after long shifts at the precinct.

Moments later, her head gently lolled onto his shoulder. Jake froze, not wanting to disturb her. He glanced around the subway car, hoping no one noticed how flustered he was.

Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked up at Jake, her fair cheeks flushing pink. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes. “I didn’t mean to…”

Jake smiled warmly, hoping to put her at ease. “No worries. Happens all the time. I guess I just have a trustworthy shoulder.”

Y/N smiled sleepily, but her expression shifted to mild panic as she patted her lap. “Where are my glasses?” she muttered.

Jake reached into his jacket pocket and held up her glasses, slightly bent but still intact. “Saved them from getting crushed by a guy with questionable hygiene,” he said, flashing his badge instinctively. “Detective Jake Peralta.”

Y/N’s face lit up as she took them. “Wow, thank you. That’s really kind of you… Detective.” She gave him a small smile, slipping her glasses back on. “I’m Y/N Y/S/N, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Jake said, his voice genuinely warm. Before he could say anything more, she glanced out the window, and her eyes widened.

“Oh, this is my stop!” She said, standing up quickly and clutching her bag. “Thanks again, Jake.”

Jake gave her a small wave, his heart doing a somersault. “You’re welcome.”

As the subway doors closed behind her, Jake leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. The faint scent of her shampoo lingered on his shoulder. He couldn’t believe he’d finally spoken to her.

Later that night, Jake sat at his desk in the precinct, staring at a blank report on his computer. His mind kept wandering back to Y/N. Her sleepy smile, the way she’d looked genuinely grateful when he’d handed her glasses—it was all stuck on replay in his brain.

Boyle leaned over his desk, raising an eyebrow. “Jake, why are you smiling like that? You look like you just found out Die Hard is getting a sequel.”

Jake snapped out of his trance. “What? No. I’m… uh, just thinking about a case. A really good one. Super intense.” Jake was so caught up he didn’t correct Boyle on how Die Hard had a sequel and 4 other movies after that.

Boyle squinted. “Uh-huh. Is this ‘case’ a woman you met on the subway?”

Jake’s eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“You have a very specific grin for subway crushes. Spill.”

Jake groaned but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. I met someone. Her name’s Y/N. She fell asleep on my shoulder, I saved her glasses, we talked a little, and then she left.”

“Did you get her number?” Boyle asked eagerly.

“No,” Jake said, deflating slightly. “But it’s fine. I’ll see her again. Probably. Maybe.”

“Jake, you’re a detective! Use your skills. Find her. But, you know, not in a creepy way.”

Jake hesitated. Boyle was right—he had the tools to find her. But he wanted it to feel organic. Real. Still, his curiosity got the better of him. A quick social media search couldn’t hurt, right?

Later that night, Jake sat at his desk in the precinct, scrolling through social media. It had taken some light detective work (entirely within ethical bounds, of course), but he’d managed to find her profile.

Graphic designer... Her bio was simple but gave Jake enough to imagine her life outside their subway rides. He clicked through her posts, smiling at pictures of her projects and the occasional blurry selfie. There was one of her at a museum, captioned: “Where the art inspires my art.” (the post)

Jake’s grin widened. “She’s cool,” he said to himself.

He leaned back, holding his phone above him. “Okay, Peralta. Chill. You’re just… getting to know her. That’s normal.” But as he scrolled further, he felt his chest tighten. She wasn’t just cool; she was amazing. And the more he learned about her, the harder he fell.

____________________________

The next morning, Jake arrived at the subway platform earlier than usual. He told himself it was purely coincidental. He wasn’t waiting for her or anything. Definitely not.

The train pulled in, and Jake stepped on, glancing around the car. No sign of Y/N. He sank into a seat, trying to shake off the disappointment.

“Detective Peralta?”

Jake’s head snapped up. There she was, standing a few feet away, holding onto the handrail. Her smile was warm, and it was impossible not to smile back.

“Y/N! Hey! Uh, good morning,” he said, trying not to sound too eager.

She stepped closer, gripping the pole next to his seat. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” Jake said, quickly scooting over to make room. His heart raced as she sat down.

“So,” Y/N began, adjusting her bag. “Detective Peralta, huh? That sounds like an action hero name.”

Jake grinned. “It’s just part of the job. You know, stopping crime, catching bad guys, making the world a safer place… no big deal.”

Y/N laughed, and Jake felt like he’d won the lottery. “Well, thanks again for saving my glasses.”

“Glad to help,” Jake said. “Though now I’m curious. What keeps you so busy that you’re falling asleep on strangers’ shoulders?”

“Graphic design. Deadlines and caffeine are my life right now,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

“That sounds intense. Any downtime in the mix?” Jake asked.

“Not much. But I’m trying to find a balance. You?” Y/N asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Downtime? What’s that? Pretty sure I’ve forgotten what weekends feel like,” Jake joked, earning another laugh.

The train slowed as it approached the next station. Y/N glanced at the doors and stood up. “This is my stop. Good luck with those weekends, Detective.”

Jake smiled. “Thanks. Have a good one, Y/N.”

She gave him a small wave as the doors opened. “You too.”

As the doors closed behind her, Jake leaned back in his seat, grinning like an idiot. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: I have no idea if this is good enough; I need feedback. Episode 2 will be out soon. trust🙏🙏

#brooklyn nine nine #b99 #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #season 1 jake peralta #fanfic #jake peralta imagines #fandom #soft aesthetic #x yn #fanficiton #episode 1

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snailsgoingdowntown · 5 months ago

Text

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

Story Masterlist

Chapter 2

'Slight' Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU.

Warnings: implied child abuse by Lant, a male doctor checks out your privates for health reasons, dried vaginal blood, a bit suggestive but the Reader hates it, a little hint of depression, vaginal pain. Please tell me if I miss anything. Dion also doesn’t show up in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that take place in this piece of FICTION. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

This blog writes and interacts with DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT REBLOG FANART/FANCTION DNI.

Chapter summary: you expected to wake up alone… just not to have a doctor walk through that door while your mind is scrambled.

Word Count: 2688k

Slightly edited.

===

When you woke up, the sky was still dark, and you were alone.

Instead of your new husband, a throbbing headache is what greets you once your eyes flutter open. It feels like you were bashed in the head with a metal bat, left to suffer and die alone. In your new prison that was disguised as a mansion, designed to eat away everyone’s sanity.

Taints their morals black, dripping until they’re all bled out. Leaving nothing but a sadistic bitch, any hope of a better personality, a good worldview, broken before it could even form. But you’re not like them.

You were not raised here. You weren’t groomed into being daddy’s little weapon – not used as a means to an end. Not viewed as an object, nor were you expected to seduce the son of an enemy to get information. You were not raised in fear but with love, soft touches and words of genuine praise and concerned frowns.

Your mother wasn’t one of many wives. She didn’t cower in fear if your father was upset. She didn’t treat you as a stepping stone, guiding you into becoming something that would almost guarantee she wouldn’t be disposed of. Or treat you like a trophy only to throw you away once you lose meaning, didn’t have to fear that one day, your father would decide that you held no purpose, thus killing you off. She was a kind mother who didn’t turn a blind eye to her children’s suffering.

You had no beef with your siblings, either. There was no need to fight a bloody battle for the throne; no need to rise above each other to ensure you would see another day. No ‘teachers’ that would quickly kill you if you ‘failed’ in your father’s eyes. And despite the petty arguments and cold shoulders, your bond was strong – held together like glue.

Your father wasn’t perfect, but he was fair. He was loyal to a fault – didn’t let his eyes wonder. Neither did he raise his children to become thieves, contact killers, treat them like trash and objects. He saw beyond your ‘usefulness’ – saw a person and not a tool. He was gentle and loving.

Your family wasn’t perfect, nor will they ever be. But they were warm.

But that warmness is turning cold.

Just thinking about it hurts.

The banging inside your skull rips you away from your thoughts, tightly shutting your eyes as if it would take away the smothering pain. If anything, the extra pressure just makes it worse, like a hammer was bashing your skull open while ripping your skin.

Something hot and wet streams down your cheeks.

“Hic…hic… I want to go home…” quietly sobbing, you shove your face into the pillow. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, not having your new husband here. If he was…

‘… you look cute when you cry.’

“Ugh!” Muffling your shriek of frustration and horror with the pillow, you curse the man in question. You can’t even cry in peace! Not when that idiotic, possibly incestuous, dense brute of a man is your husband. A husband who likely would want his bride to cry instead of smiling so brightly it could rival the sun!

Knock, knock

Your head snaps up at the sound of the knock. Ah, right. They most likely want to check the sheets, if they haven’t already. You bite your lip. How many hours has it been since the deed was done? The sky was still dark, so maybe only a few hours. Or maybe it’s around the time the sun will start to show its face in just a few minutes.

Forcing yourself to rest on your knees, palms pressed against the mattress, you see the red stains beneath you. With heavy eyes you also look between your thighs – sticky blood that you didn’t bother washing away. Not that you could, there was no water nearby after the… event.

“Please excuse me, my lady.” A woman calls from the other side of the door, carefully opening it with a creak. The sound makes your ears bleed.

“Oh, you’re up,” she observes with surprise; it was obvious that she only called out by habit. You nod, unable to find your voice.

Her grey eyes rake over your nude form, from your puffy eyes to your bloodied inner thighs. You wonder how you look in her eyes. The nervousness only starts to kick in once she makes her way to you, her maid uniform swishing with each step. You sensed neither pity nor malice from her – she was simply doing her job. What exactly her job was you didn’t know.

Then, deep shame washes over you as she requests that you bare yourself to her. You felt dirty, tainted as you showed her the mess left between your legs and on the white mattress that will be replaced later today. Still, there was slight doubt clouding her eyes. You were told by both your mother and sister that the checker will always look at you with doubt, especially if your husband was nowhere in sight.

Even more so if there was no dried up white between your legs.

Your hand tingles in disgust as the memory of jerking him off resurfaces. You never want to go through that again, never want to sleep with him again. Forgetting having a child – you can’t even take him.

“My lady,” she starts after some hesitance, “may I call the doctor in?” Balking at her you don’t answer. Call the doctor. Why? Was it bad? Did it look fake? Did they want to open you up and make sure that the blood was from your vagina???

Just to see if you fucked that good for nothing bastard??

“M-may I ask why?” You stammer out, clenching the sheets below you. Did they really doubt you that much? Just because your forced-on-you husband left immediately afterwards.

The audacity.

Especially when they were the ones who called him away.

You hold your tongue – she wasn’t your maid. You weren’t in your family estate now; you were in theirs. Like a parent waiting on their toddler to settle down, she remains quiet.

Once you’re of sound mind – as much as you could be – she answers with, “To check that everything went smoothly, my lady.” You don’t buy it. You can’t buy it when she looks at you expectedly, head held high and shoulders straight. After a beat of pause, you sigh out a ‘yes.’

“I’ll be right back. I’ll warm up a bath for you as well. It’ll help with the soreness.” And with that she’s gone, the door shutting behind her. Your shoulders slump as you stare at the door.

Will Dion return?

…. probably not. He didn’t even spare you a second glance after he had cleaned himself. He had left without a word.

Besides, what would you do if he came back? Greet him like a loving wife? Hide underneath the covers like a ‘coward’? Sneer at him like he wronged you?

Knock, knock

“My lady,” the maid has returned, yay. “I have brought the doctor. We are coming in.” She doesn’t even wait for your permission. Hah. Then again, why would she? You weren’t her master.

What you see surprises and makes you wary.

The doctor – a young man with long red hair that was tied up, bangs framing his face – introduces himself as Ash Katopodis. He bows while apologizing for coming, stating that the only woman doctor was on leave for her pregnancy. His honey brown eyes only show kindness.

You question it mentally. Why call in a male doctor for this sort of thing? Usually, at least back home, your parents would call for a woman doctor when it concerned…private matters. Sure, in your old, modern world, gynecologists could both be male and female. But this world is set in a different era.

Still, he’s most likely here to make sure the blood was yours and came from your nether regions.

Why else would he be here?

“It’s… nice to meet you. apologies for the um… mess.” Voice getting smaller with every word, you close your legs and wrap your arms around your chest. It was natural, you tell yourself. Who wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being seen in the nude by the opposite sex?

You look to the side. Soft rays of light start to light the room; it seems that the sun has woken up.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Ash gives a gentle smile as he walks to you, placing a suitcase on the floor next to the bed. Behind him the maid watches like a hawk. This family was known for employing strong personnel. Was she one of the strong ones?

Would she pin you down if you made a run for it?

“If you don’t mind, could you please lay on your back and spread your legs?” Despite yourself, you follow his instructions, wanting to get this over with. While he readies his supplies or whatever, you ask him, “Are you checking to see if I faked it?”

“Fake what?” He questions back, confused.

“Losing my virginity.”

He coughs as saliva gets stuck in his throat, dumbfounded. At what, do you wonder.

“N-no, my lady. It’s clear that…” you could feel his stare at your sore core. “…that you, erm, had an…. eventful night.”

“Then why…?”

He coughs into his fist, not willing to answer. Silence falls over the room as the gears turn in your mind. Was this actually… a checkup? To ensure your ridiculously large husband didn’t rip and tear something open? Did the Agriche family care about such matters?

Tilting your head, you give it thought.

Lant has ten wives with multiple children. That was the reason he married them all, no? To produce children, little kids he could forge into weapons. To feed into his own ego, thinking that having more than one wife meant he was better, more desirable than other men.

If his wives suffered any physical damage to their nether regions, they wouldn’t be able to give birth.

You guess… It makes sense.

“Alright,” you break the silence while taking deep breaths to ease your mind. Accepting your theory as fact, you force your legs to relax. Everything is done for their sake, you remind yourself. To make sure that his favorite son hadn’t ruined your insides was to ensure that you could be kept around with a purpose. Right.

“…if I may ask,” you hear the doctor rummaging through his suitcase. “How painful was it?” There’s uneasiness in his voice, cautious with his tone.

Truthfully, you don’t want to answer. You don’t even want to remember it.

“…it felt like I was being cut in half,” you answer. You jolt when you hear the snap of gloves. Was there going to be pain?

Subconsciously your legs close.

“My lady, do there is no need to worry; Master Lant’s wives have gone through the same process. It will be quick if you cooperate.” Right, right. Just relax. You need to relax.

It’s easier said than done when you feel something poking at you before spreading your folds open.

Ash left with a black eye and ice pack, not blaming you for what happened.

---

Even in the hot bath, you can’t force your hands away from your face.

You had kicked him! That poor man… to be fair, the gloves were cold. He wasn’t your husband, of course you’d react that way. It’s normal, right?

To kick someone in the face as they inspect your privates. Especially when you were still sore and mentally torn. Even more when he kept asking those embarrassing questions-!

‘Do you recall how long the pain lasted?”

‘Did the young master prepare you, physically? Hm, how?... you know, the usual with fingers and such.’

‘Did you tense during ‘it’? If so, then there’s a possibility that it could have added to the pain.’

“…Why?” Your hands still cover your face even as the maid – you learned her name was Hana -washes your back with a rag. She treats you like you were made from glass, ready to crack at any moment.

“Why what, my lady?” She questions before ushering you to raise your harms. You only do so to get out of the water quicker. While nice, you were considering drowning yourself.

“Well… why must…” a wince is pulled from you as she helps pull you up; time to clean the dreaded area properly. You suck in a breath as she wipes down your inner thighs. The blood itself was cleaned before you even entered the bath – however, she was going to go in a second time. Just to be careful, she told you.

She doesn’t comment on the purple bruises on your hips. Or the dried blood that was underneath your fingertips – Dion’s blood, to be exact. She doesn’t comment on anything. Just going about her day, doing what she was paid for.

“I-I… I’m just wondering why… it hurts so much…,” it’s a half lie – you’re also wondering why you were married to him.

Hana takes a minute to answer. “Biology,” is what she tells you. Well, she’s not wrong, but still…

“…Hana,” your head turns towards her once she has you sit back down. The warm water swishes around you as you settle down. “Tell me, do you know what type of person he is?”

“Who, my lady?”

“Dion.” It’s hard to call him your husband out loud. It’s still hard to wrap your head around it. (Name) Agriche. The sound of it makes you sick.

Hana blinks at you owlishly, caught off guard. She opens her mouth only to close it immediately. Seems that she doesn’t know how to describe him. Which is fine, but you’d still rather hear her opinion. From reading the novel and webtoon, you know how Dion Agriche is supposed to be.

But things aren’t following the novel and webtoon. At least, not completely. You’re unsure of how the events will unfold now that you entered the scene. He still looks young, and Cassis Pedelian attended the wedding as well. Meaning that the beginning of the series hasn’t started yet.

Where are you in the timeline?

“Young master Dion…” she trails off, trying to find the words. “He’s… he’s a good swordsman, and the most likely to become the heir of the Agriche family. He always comes out on top within the siblings. He is not the affectionate type, I’m afraid.”

Ugh. Like you would want any of his affection to begin with. You just want to be left alone. You hate the way he looks at you.

Like he knew you.

And the way he treated you… he should have been completely dismissive. Ignoring you after kissing you when the vows were said - you can still feel his cold, repulsive lips.

The shudder that takes over your body doesn’t go unnoticed. Hana dips her fingers into the bath water to check the temperature. She nods her head in satisfaction after retrieving them.

You wait for her to continue but she doesn’t. Guess that’s all you’re going to get out of her.

“I see. If I may ask…, do you know the reason for our marriage?”

“I believe it is because Master Lant wanted to strike a deal with your father, my lady.”

It should surprise you; you should have gotten up and screamed, and asked her what she meant. Demanded that she tells you everything. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes flutter close as you recall your conversation with your mother.

‘(Name), whatever they tell you… There’s more to it than that.’

You regret not asking what she had meant by that.

Now that your mind has settled, Ash’s snarky and whispered comment fills your head -

‘That brute… couldn’t he have been more gentle?’ It’s too late to ask him what he meant by that - if anything, you had pretended you didn’t hear it. You need to wipe the memory away and never recall it again.

You sigh through your nose, worn out. Hana pours water over your head and readies the shampoo. The scent is familiar. Like lavender, your mother’s favorite that she passed onto you. It reminds you of home, back when you were a child, a teenager and finally, the seventeen-year-old girl you were months ago. Before news of a fiancé broke to you on your eighteenth birthday.

Your father didn’t tell you who it was right away. But the uneasiness in his eyes and the way his hands trembled while holding your shoulders should have worried you. But at the time you were too shocked to notice his odd behavior.

This familiar scent helps you relax. And you take the opportunity- after all, you’re in enemy territory. Black Agriche.

From here on out, your survival is a priority.

“Oh, that’s right. My lady.”

“Hm?”

“Young master Dion will be joining you for dinner.”

Why can’t lightning strike you down right now?

#dion x reader #dion agriche #dion agrece #dion agrece x reader #dion agriche x reader #twtptflob #roxana #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob x reader #yandere dion agriche #yandere twtflob #male yandere

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antoncore · 11 months ago

Note

thinking about tattoo artist riize ..

— 🎀

like a tattoo | p.wb

a/n: went so overboard that this is a fic…oops

word count: 2k

smut 18+ mdni

everything about wonbin, your tattoo artist, was so so pretty, black tank top with jeans with tattoos covering his arms, his big eyes and his pink lips that were simply kissable. you wanted a cleavage tattoo and was kind of nervous to take off your shirt but you felt comfortable with wonbin as you’d gotten your other tattoos done with him. his voice and overall demeanour helped you feel relaxed as you prepared for the tattoo. you slowly took off your shirt, wonbin looking over as he tried to hide how turned on he was by your big tits, noticing that your nipples were pierced too.

wonbin maintained his composure with a warm smile, his voice soothing as he said, “alright, let’s start. just relax for me, alright angel?” you nodded, feeling reassured by his presence. wonbin prepared his tools, his focus shifting entirely to the task at hand. he began outlining the design with gentle precision, his hands steady and skilled. the initial prick of the needle made you tense up slightly making wonbin say softly, “it’s okay, angel, just relax. that’s it, you’re all good.” you couldn’t help but blush at the way he spoke to you, starting to get wet in your panties, not that you could do anything about it right now.

as he continued, wonbin couldn’t hold himself back from getting hard at the sight of your pretty tits. close to losing focus at the thought of having them in his mouth, playing with your nipples as you moaned his name. but he kept going, paying attention to every detail of your tattoo. after finishing the tattoo and filling in all the details, he leaned back, admiring his work. “all done, angel. looks pretty on you, hm?” you looked down at the fresh ink, smiling with satisfaction. the tattoo was exactly what you had envisioned, intricate and beautifully placed. you smiled up at wonbin, who was still admiring his work, his eyes lingering on your cleavage.

“thank you, wonbin. it looks perfect," you said, your voice genuinely appreciative. wonbin smiled back, his eyes finally meeting yours. "i'm glad you like it, angel, really suits you." his voice was soft, almost intimate, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. he found himself looking at your chest again for a moment too long before he snapped back to reality. "i, uh, should get you cleaned up," he said, his voice slightly huskier than before. wonbin reached for a cloth and some antiseptic, gently dabbing around the fresh tattoo. his touch was soft and careful, but you could feel the tension in the air. you bit your lip, trying to suppress the flutter of excitement in your stomach.

"hold still for me, angel," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned closer, the closeness making your heart race. as he finished cleaning the tattoo, his fingers brushed against the underside of your breast, you couldn't help but let out a small gasp, your eyes meeting his. you saw the way wonbin's eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as he looked at you, quickly taking his hand away. “touch me wonbin, please,” you said breathily, feeling yourself getting even wetter. “you sound so cute like that, how can i say no?” he replied, before getting on top of you, his hand cupping your tit now which made you whine. he played around with your piercing gently, his thumb brushing over the sensitive metal and sending shivers down your spine. wonbin's eyes were locked on yours, the tension between you almost tangible.

wonbin leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "i was thinking about touching you like this the whole time, angel." you moaned softly in response, your body arching into his touch. "bin, please... don't stop," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. “bin? aww, what a cute nickname, angel. must be so needy, hm?” he teased, his voice low and clearly running out of patience before he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with an eagerness that left you breathless. his other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you even closer. you could feel his hardness pressing against you, and it only fueled your desperation for him further.

wonbin broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck to your chest. he took your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the piercing and making you gasp. he took the other nipple between his fingers, gently tugging and rolling it. the sensation was almost too much to bear, your hands tangling in his hair as you held him close. “so beautiful, my angel," he murmured against your skin. "can't get enough of you." you could hardly think straight, your mind clouded with pleasure. "bin, i need you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “patience, y/n, just wanna focus on these pretty tits for a bit,” he said, his voice teasing.

wonbin continued paying attention to your tits, alternating between sucking on your pierced nipples and gently kneading them. with every touch, you squirmed, making it harder to stay still. his hands eventually began to wonder, sliding down your sides and grazing the hem of your skirt. he glanced up at you, watching the way your face flushed, his eyes darkening with lust. “can i?” he asked, his voice anticipating. you nodded eagerly, unable to form words as your breath hitched in your throat. his fingers slid under your skirt, caressing the sensitive skin of your thighs. he teased you, his fingers brushing against your panties but not quite touching where you needed him so desperately. you squirmed on the tattoo chair, a desperate whine escaping your lips. “please, bin," you begged.

he smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "such a good girl, asking so nicely," he murmured, finally slipping his fingers past the waistband of your panties. his touch felt so good that you couldn't help but arch into him as he found your wetness. “so wet for me, angel," he whispered, his fingers sliding easily inside your slick folds. he found your clit, circling it with gentle pressure that made you gasp. "feels good, doesn't it, angel?" “yes, so good," you moaned, your hips bucking pathetically against his hand. the pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every stroke of his fingers.

“n-need you inside me,” you stuttered, longing for wonbin’s cock. he gave a low appreciative hum, eyes darkening at your words. “what did i say, angel? patience, i know what i’m doing,” wonbin whispered as his fingers continued working you open. the anticipation was almost too much to bear, and you could feel yourself trembling with need. his thumb pressed firmly against your clit while his fingers curled to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars. “oh god, bin," you moaned, your head falling back. "’m so close." “cum for me, angel," he commanded softly, his lips brushing against your ear. “wanna feel you fall apart for me." the combination of his voice and the skill of his fingers sent you over the edge. you cried out his name, your body arching off the chair as you came all over his fingers. he didn't stop though, coaxing every last bit of your orgasm out of you until you were left panting and spent.

wonbin finally withdrew his hand, his eyes full of admiration and lust as he looked at you. "you're so beautiful, angel," he said, his voice filled with affection. you reached for him, pulling him close and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. "fuck me," you whispered against his mouth. "please." he didn't need any more encouragement, standing up and quickly unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off, leaving him in just his boxers. you couldn't help but admire his body, the way his tattoos covered him so flawlessly. he pulled you to the edge of the tattoo chair, lifting your skirt and sliding your panties down your legs. his eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

"you're so fucking perfect," wonbin whispered, smirking as he positioned himself between your legs, his hardness pressing against your entrance. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "please, bin. fuck me," you begged, needing to feel him inside you. with one swift motion, he buried his cock inside you, filling you perfectly. both of you moaned at the sensation, loving the way the other felt. his movements were slow and deliberate at first, letting you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his hands returning to your breasts, playing with your nipples which he knew would make you feel even more pleasure.

"god, you feel so good, angel," wonbin groaned, his voice thick with desire as he began to move, his thrusts becoming more insistent. he thrusted so deeply that it had you whimpering and clinging to him. “yes, binnie, yes," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you matched his pace. the sensation of him filling you, combined with the way he was teasing your nipples had your head going insane. "please, more." "such a good girl for me," he muttered against your skin, his breath hot on your neck. he shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit the perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "tell me how much you want it." “i want it so bad," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "need you, need you to fuck me harder."

wonbin obliged, unable to deny you of what you wanted, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you cry out his name over and over. wonbin's hands roamed your body, one hand gripping your hip while the other continued to play with your breasts, his thumb brushing over your pierced nipple in a way that made you shiver. “so beautiful, fuck,” he groaned, his pace relentless. “wish i could stay like this all day and all night.” you gradually felt yourself getting closer and closer to cumming, his thrusts so fast and deep, hitting every spot inside you just like you wanted.

“bin, i’m gonna cum,” you whined, voice barely above a whisper. “that’s it, angel. cum for me,” wonbin commanded. “wanna feel you cum on my cock, ok?” his words had you spiralling again, crying out as you came. he didn’t stop, thrusting deep inside of you to prolong your orgasm. he felt himself getting close, trying to pull out but you tightened your legs around his waist despite feeling overstimulated. “no, please,” you pleaded, your voice breathless. “want you to cum inside me.” he couldn’t resist, his thrusts growing erratic, each one more desperate than the last. “didn’t wanna pull out anyway, wanna fill you up angel,” he confessed in a broken moan, the words making you gasp. with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself as deeply inside you as he could, his body tensing as he came inside you. the feeling of his cum inside you and the way you clenched around his cock had the two of you breathless and trembling.

you stayed as you were for a moment, wrapped around each other and heavily breathing. wonbin slowly pulled back, looking down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and affection. "i could stay like this forever,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. you smiled up at him as you replied with, “me too,” reaching to kiss him softly. he helped you clean up, his touch gentle and attentive. once you were both dressed again, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “thank you, wonbin," you said softly. “no, thank you, my pretty y/n,” he replied, kissing your forehead.

“want me to take you home, angel? i wanna take care of you,” wonbin continued, smiling softly, slighting giggling. you nodded, grateful for his offer. you looked down at the fresh ink on your chest once again, now carrying a dual meaning, a tattoo that would make you remember what just happened.

#cee chats 💬#riize hard hours #riize smut #riize hard thoughts #wonbin hard hours #wonbin smut #wonbin hard thoughts #wonbin x reader #riize x reader #cee p.wb #cee writes ✎ᝰ #🎀 anon

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