#in a way that was designed to make people care about him and a wink to the trends of the time

[dollfacefantasy]

Can't Help It

pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3

word count: 5.3k

a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.

You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.

But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.

You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.

He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.

Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.

The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.

“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.

You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.

Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.

“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.

“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”

He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.” 

Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.

Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.

Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.

But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you. 

It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.

You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.

His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.

At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing. 

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?

You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.

You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.

Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.

Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.

You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.

Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.

He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.

That was until you started sleeping in his bed.

He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.

He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.

This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.

He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.

The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.

Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.

He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.

He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.

He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.

“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.

It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.

A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.

You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.

Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”

The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.

He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up. 

“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.

Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.

“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.

“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”

You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.

“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.

He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.

“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”

You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.

Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top. 

“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.

His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.

Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.

Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.

“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple. 

You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.

He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”

All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”

Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.

You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.

His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh. 

“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.

You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.

Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.

“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.

The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.

His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.

“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.

You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.

He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.

He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.

He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.

“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”

“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.

You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.

He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.

“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”

His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.

You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.

As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.

You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.

You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”

“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.

He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”

You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.

“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

imagining a scenario where Mrs. König packs her husband’s lunch so he can take it to work (or like, he can take it with him on the day he’s deployed, if that makes sense)

and like, she spoils him for lunch. literally

cuts the crusts off his sandwiches

peels his orange

little fancy shapes for his fruit??? you bet

those gummy snacks and cookies??? absolutely

and can’t forget, a lovely note (maybe even a very explicit photo >wink wink<)

and keep it up, now König expects his lunch made by Mrs. König!!!!

which is her evil plan all along because i bet one day when she’s incredibly angry when she makes his lunch…

and he opens to find:

sandwich crusts ON.

n o c o o k i e

orange is orange. unpeeled

no notes of love

fruit is fruit shaped. not dino shaped :(

now König can spend three months of deployment thinking about his actions.

I recently got addicted to those lunch box videos on TikTok, anon, I AM INVESTED!! Just being Konig's housewife, having the prettiest apron with some cute frills all around, with laces and little ribbons everywhere - it's not really practical, but you have a huge collection of those and you can afford to make them a bit messy, and dirty. You don't have a lot of things to do at home, watching TV and sitting on your laptop gets boring after the first few weeks, especially when Konig has desk duty and leaves the house for the whole day instead of spending time with you or getting on facetime while on his mission. You're cooking for him, take out so so many lunchbox ideas!! Spend too much money on various lunchboxes, on different designs, and all of those cute things you can use to cut bread and fruits, to make some elaborate shapes and slowly engage your husband to eat cute stuff instead of just sliding his card to get some slop on the base( Everyone is so so so jealous of him, he is getting rice balls with nice seasonings and little seaweed cutouts that make it look like pandas, he is having all of those cute shapes for his apples and carrots!! That giant three-story boxed with ice and metal sections...and then it all suddenly stops.

He is not just getting a dry and cold sandwich - they are literally just covered in their shop packaging, you don't even bother to cook for him anymore. sometimes you miss the days entirely, leaving him to return to the base kitchen and find out that he is unable to eat here anymore because he just knows he messed up and you're mad at him( this is the only way you can get to him - Konig isn't a cruel husband, even though he keeps you locked in the house, but he is a pretty dense one, ignoring your wishes and often making you beg for even the slightest of privileges, like getting out of the house to do your garden, or go to some nice cafes and actually see people. He will apologize profusely, knowing how much he hurt you( his heart still in the wrong place, he don't understand why would you want to join some dumb book club when you can spend time at home, but he is forced to allow you to go out, just so he could see his pretty housewife smiling again, caring for him like a proper girl should

[henneseyhoe]

SMILE FOR ME, DADDY.

Chiron x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS:18+, pussy is being licked like ice cream on a hot country summer day!, no relation between reader and Chiron, y’all just bein nasty, Short.

SUMMARY:reader likes Chiron’s grillz and he shows her they look good on her too..*wink wink*

(Pt2)

✮✮✮✮

It all started with you askin’ him about those damn grillz.

“Pretty boy!”

“Smile for me, daddy!” You and your friends playfully yelled at the men across the parking lot, their attention landing on your entire group regardless of all the other people around them hooting and hollering about how nice their cars was.

They smiled nicely like it wasn’t nothing, the grillz in question gleaming in the streetlights. All grillz had different designs and colors. One was silver with diamonds riddling the top and bottom, one was gold with crosses engraved on it, one was in the shape of an AK on the man’s top row with the bottom slugged out with silver, and one just had simple gold, but that was all you had to see to make that kitty pur.

You all went silent, giggling amongst each other as the opposite group detached themselves from the hoods of their drop top rides, striding over to y’all. You got nervous with every step, your hands starting to shake. Each and every one of them picked a girl out for themselves to talk to, and you were last, the most intimidating one of them all approaching you. He was tall, nice beard, skin looked like glazed dark chocolate in all these lights, and his golden pendants and grillz only made all that pop. You could have fainted right then and there with how he was looking at you. Like he wanted to take a bite with those same golds.

“You said you want me to do what, ma?” He asked, licking his lips. You got a peak of the bright jewels in his mouth, your eyes twinkling with every sight of it.

“I- I said…I wanted to see them grillz”

✮✮✮✮

“FUCK! Ouuu, fuck!” You moaned, your hand gripping onto the velvet seats of the car that belonged to this man whose name you still didn’t know. How you went from asking to see his grillz to him sticking his entire tongue inside of you with no remorse for his seats? You had no idea, but you were damn sure gonna enjoy a handsome face being in your lap.

He wasn’t just kissing or sucking, he was making love to that pussy, like he actually loved the pussy. His tongue knew no limits, licking up and down from your throbbing clit all the way down to your ass. That’s how you knew he was a real freak, y’all only talked for about an hour. Your legs was lifted up so high you were sure a plane would think you were telling them to land right on top of y’all. Not to mention the top on the car was still down and y’all were still in the parking lot where the car meet took place. Thankfully, everyone had left, hearing about a street racing event that was happening downtown. You were too busy getting your soul sucked out through your clit to care about it.

He spread your lips with his thumbs and spat down onto your clit, watching it drip down to your entrance and spill on his seat. Sticking his tongue out, he only uses the tip to play with your bundle of nerves, flicking it back and forth as your stomach started to flip and cave in from the powerful orgasm you were about to have. Once again you caught a glimpse of those beautiful golds in his mouth, just shining at you, not to mention the feeling of the warm material sitting against your pussy every time he decides to put his entire mouth on you, collecting the juices that had attempted to fall.

“OH MY GOD!” You squealed, your pussy clenching and unclenching uncontrollably. Suddenly he closes his lips around your clit and begins to suck while sliding two of his fingers inside you, the sound of macaroni being stirred filling the car as he began thrusting his fingers at an angle inside of you while sucking. He felt your pussy contract around him, clamping down until you sprayed your juices all over him like a broken water pipe. “OH SHIT!” Was all you could say as you watched in awe, the force being so strong that you actually slammed your head back against the cars door. You continued to squirt through your surprise and confusion, wetting up his seats, beard, and white tee. And get this, the night still wasn’t over.

✮✮✮✮

Me and my grillz kink back at it again???

[lemoncrushh]

Stones T-Shirt

Summary: Commenting on Harry's Rolling Stones shirt at a party leads to going to a concert with him.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1200

A/N: A silly little blurb written in 2017. Originally an oc, edited to be a reader fic.

You'd commented on his Stones t-shirt at a party.

"Have you ever seen them?" he asked you an hour later when you were in the kitchen making a drink.

"Who?" you made a face, completely forgetting about your previous encounter.

Harry laughed, pointing at his shirt. "The Rolling Stones."

"Oh. No," you shook your head. "Never got to."

"Mmm, you should. Everyone needs to see them at least once."

"Well...next time I have an extra hundred or so burning a hole in my pocket, I'll buy a ticket."

"Hey Y/N, are you making me one of those?" your best friend Sheila asked as she entered in the kitchen.

"What am I, designated bartender?" you scoffed.

"Of course! Now hook me up!"

You shook your head as you began to mix her drink, just like you both knew you would. As you poured the liquor into the glass, Harry leaned against the counter.

"They're coming to town next week," he commented. "We should go."

You gave him the eye while you squeezed a slice of lime into Sheila's drink. For a second you thought you'd misheard him.

"We should?"

"Yeah," he smirked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You bit your lip as you handed Sheila her glass. "I'll think about it."

Sipping through her straw, Sheila nodded her head at you. You knew what she was trying to say, but you didn't care.

"Hmm," Harry sounded. "Well, while you think about it...maybe you can make me one of those?"

You glared at him, his cocky expression quickly making your defenses crumble. You chuckled and grabbed a fresh glass. "Sure."

Just then three more people walked in, catching you making Harry's cocktail.

"Yeah, I'll take one too, Y/N!" exclaimed Jordan.

"Me too!"

"Me three!"

"What the hell, who made me bartender?" you argued.

"Harry," Sheila winked.

"But you asked for a drink first," you pointed at her.

"So. He followed you in here first."

You looked at Harry whose mouth grew into a smile. You laughed as you handed him his glass and began making three more. By the time you passed them out to your customers, your own cocktail was watered down. Frowning, you took a sip anyway.

"So did you think about it?" asked Harry, placing his empty glass on the counter.

"Sorry?"

"The Stones concert."

"Oh. Um..."

As if it were a sign, "Start Me Up" began to play from the speakers in the next room. Harry and you both froze.

"Looks like they're playing our song," he chuckled.

"Oh for fucks sake, go out with him!" shouted Sheila.

You shook your head as the color rose to your cheeks. "Alright."

"You won't regret it," beamed Harry. "Everyone needs to see the Stones."

You both stood outside the outdoor venue watching the sun set. You could hear the drum beat of the opening band playing inside as the excitement began to fill your veins.

"So when should we go in?" you asked Harry.

"After sundown," he replied. "That's the best time. Not as many people trying to get in."

You nodded, a little disappointed you'd be missing the opening act, but then again you had no clue who they were anyway. Finally, when the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, Harry grabbed your hand.

"C'mon," he whispered. "This way."

You smiled and followed him up a ramp. You zig zagged through a maze of several barriers until you reached a fence.

"What are we doing?" you glared at him, confused.

"Waiting for the all clear," Harry muttered.

"Wait...what?"

He squeezed your hand and looked at you timidly. "I don't actually have tickets," he admitted.

"What? We're...we're sneaking in?"

"Yeah."

Releasing your hand from his, you felt your stomach plummet to your knees. "Have you lost your fucking mind?!" you shouted.

"Shh!"

"No, I won't shh! I'm out of here!"

"Y/N! Wait!" he grabbed your hand again just as you rounded the corner. "Please."

"You're insane," you grumbled.

"Trust me. We can do this. I've done it before."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better!" you threw up your hand.

Taking your other hand, Harry looked you in the eye. "Please."

With a defeated sigh, you followed him back to the fence. You watched as Harry carefully climbed over it, landing softly on the grass.

"C'mon," he beckoned.

With hesitation and a sour feeling in your gut, you reached up and grabbed the metal fence, sticking your shoe inside a hole to pull yourself up. When you reached the top, however, you got scared.

"I can't," you shook your head.

"Sure you can," said Harry, his arms out. "I'm right here. I'll catch you so you won't hit the ground."

"It's not that...I don't..."

"Swing your leg over."

Swallowing hard, you did as he said and you were able to climb post of the way down until he caught you in his arms.

"See?" he breathed in your ear. "We're okay."

Once again, you smiled at his use of the word "we".

"This way."

Your hand in his, you ran to another nearby barricade that wasn't as difficult to climb over. And that was when you saw the stage.

"Oh wow," you mouthed.

"Great innit?" Harry smiled.

You weren't close, in fact you were in the very back of the venue, behind the crowd that sat on the lawn. But somehow the thrill of it all made it worth it. Suddenly the lights went out and the audience went wild.

"Let's go over here," Harry gestured to the right and you weaved through several people until you stopped at an empty space between them.

You watched Mick Jagger strut across the stage in all his glory. Your stomach did a few flips until you found yourself cheering with the rest of the crowd. By the third or fourth song, you and Harry were dancing.

"This is so awesome!" you screamed at him as he grinned from ear to ear.

"Glad you came with me?" he leaned against you as the band went into "Angie".

"Glad? I could kiss you right now!"

You realized what you'd said the moment the last word dropped from your lips. Harry's smile faltered only slightly as his eyes shifted between your eyes and your mouth. Then tilting his head, he kissed you.

You weren't sure if it was the adrenaline still zipping through you from before, or just the mere sensation of his lips on yours, but that kiss was electric. You wound your arms around Harry's neck as he pulled you closer, your kiss deepening. You heard Mick asking "where will it lead us from here," and you found yourself wondering the same thing.

By the time the concert was over, you were wiping your cheeks of tears of joy.

"You okay?" Harry asked as he took your hand and you walked out of the venue with everybody else.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Yeah, more than okay. Thanks for that."

"Like I said, everyone should see them at least once."

"That's not what I mean."

Harry stopped and turned to look at you with question in his eyes.

"Thank you..." you said, "for the best night of my life."

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[kamotecue]

part four: as the only heiress to the throne, you had your royal duties, that meant you meeting with the lionesses ahead of the world cup.

part one | part two | part three

you sighed as scorpius drove to st. george’s park, it was the last thing on your schedule for the day. your father wanted you to greet and wish the best with the 2023 world cup approaching.

you were literally stuck with media duties, something you quite hated. it was the way the press would turn something around, which well annoyed you. as the car pulled up you saw sarina weigman, the lionesses’s head coach.

“i’m nervous.” you stated, as scorpius chuckled.

“the great y/n, nervous? social anxiety should be afraid.” scorpius joked, as you jokingly glared at him.

“it’s not like i’m dating their captain, i only met three of them. what if the rest of the team don’t like me?” you asked, as scorpius looked at you.

“they’ll love you, besides who could ever hate you.” scorpius said, as you laughed. a lot of people could, you thought.

the car came to a stop, as scorpius killed the engine before heading out to open your door. as your door opened, you stepped out confidently, shaking hands with the dutch manager as she gave you a small smile.

“it’s an honor, your highness.” sarina said, as you nodded.

“the pleasures all mine.” you walked in with sarina, scorpius following behind, always five feet apart. you were lead to a dining area where the lionesses had settled, a few taking a glimpse at you.

the coaching staff were at their designated table, while you joined the table of ella toone who sat with alessia russo, esme morgan, ellie roebuck and mary earps.

“are you really dating our skipper?” ella asked, in disbelief as alessia gently slapped ella’s arm to which you laughed at.

“yes, i am dating leah. is it that much of a shock?” you asked, as ella shrugged.

“you are the crown princess, while our skipper is well—just leah.” ella said, a bit loud making you wince as a few stopped to look at your table.

“just leah was the one i fell in love with, the seven year old that i met on the football pitch.” alessia gave you a soft smile; happy that their skipper had someone to love.

“what do you love about leah?” mary asked, as you gave her a contented smile.

“a lot, really. when we were kids, and i’d meet her on the pitch she’d bring me flowers ‘just because’. or how much she cares about this team, how she loves football, how serious she is. or how blue her eyes are.” you said, as keira gave you a nod of approval.

“has she taught you football?” ellie asked, as you nodded.

“when we were kids, and i’d meet leah on the pitch where we would play soccer. she’s taught me everything i know. she’d also let me borrow a pair of her boots, as we had the same shoe size.” ellie gushed at how cute it was.

“can you tell us more stories?” esme asked as you nodded.

“i had to play goal keeper, just to block lee’s shots. there was this one time, the ball had hit my face. leah rushed to me to check if i had broken anything, or if my nose was bleeding. let’s just say, she scared scorpius.” alessia laughed.

“scorpius?” esme asked as scorpius moved from his position, giving her a small smile.

“my bodyguard.” as you introduced him to the team, he went back to his original position.

“if you weren’t a princess, what job would you take?” keira asked, from the other table.

“well, i am majoring in physiotherapy. after that, i’d enter med school, and graduate.” as keira looked at you in shock.

“i always wanted to do more research, on why it’s more common for females to tear their acl.” you said, stunning those who heard your conversation.

“interesting, leah’s got a keeper.” mary said, as she winked. i laughed at her joke.

“quite literally, i joined a youth team as a goal keeper.” you said, as they looked at you with wide eyes.

“however i only played for about 4 years? before quitting.” ella looked at you in shock, mary was proud another goal keeper.

“i heard there’s a foosball table, would you join me in a game?” rachel asked as she passed by to which you nodded to.

yet here you were absolutely crushing the daly-bright duo, georgia was your partner.

“you’re good at foosball too.” rachel said as the game came to an end.

“what can i say, i’m great at many things.” you said, as you’ve taken lessons in a few instruments, played various sports, and etc.

“well, i believe it’s time for us to go, my lady. you have a date with ms. williamson.” scorpius said, as you flushed.

“can we stop and get flowers?” you asked, as scorpius nodded. keira definitely approved of you, it was cute, your relationship with leah.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 52)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

Despite Mark's persistence however, Sean declined his offer for now, wanting to win you over fair and square, but when Mara's birthday came finally around, he was in two minds about it.

It was a Saturday morning and you were up early, preparing everything for the party. Mara was in her playpen, occupied with her toys, while you were rushing around the house, making sure everything was in order for your guests.

You were dressed in a casual summer dress and your hair was tied up in a messy bun, but you still felt self-conscious when the doorbell rang, and Sean stood there with a big smile on his face. 

He had not been around Mara before but arrived early to help you with hanging  decorations and preparing the food. "Hey, you look great," he said, handing you a bunch of sunflowers making you smile softly.

"Thanks, so do you," you replied, admiring his button-down shirt and jeans even though the moment was short-lived.

You led the way into the living room where you had a designated area for the kids' party. "I thought it would be best to keep it separate from the rest of the house so we don't end up with sticky fingers all over," you chuckled to yourself.

"A room full of toddlers, huh? Sounds fabulous," Sean  joked, looking slightly nervous at the sight of the colorful balloons and animal balloon sculptures scattered around the room.

"Oh, don't worry. They're all really well-behaved, trust me. Mara is actually the most boisterous one of them all," you laughed, feeling yourself relax a little more in Sean's presence.

"That's good to know," he said, taking a deep breath with a nervous smile on his face. "So, uhm, just checking, what did you tell people about us? Because, I know that your ex's family is coming and all, so  I just don't want to cause any awkwardness or something," Sean inquired, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"I told them that you are a friend of mine, who has been helpful lately, and that you are coming over to help me set up and all. I didn't mention anything about us being together, you know?" you told him, feeling the need to reassure him once again.

"Yeah, I figured as much. I just wanted to make sure," he said, nodding his head in response.

"I am sorry Sean, it's just, Cillian wouldn't even agree to you being here, around Mara, unless I kept this platonic and I can understand him too," you told him sympathetically, understanding the frustration he was feeling.

"Why do you care so much about what he wants

, though? Surely he should be happy for you, if you have found someone else that you like?" he asked, a slight note of confusion in his voice.

"Sometimes, it's complicated Sean. Cillian and I are working through things and, to tell you the truth, since you and me aren't in a relationship, I too want to keep this platonic for Mara's sake. It would just confuse her, you know," you  tried to explain, being as honest as you could.

Sean didn't seem totally satisfied with your answer, but he understood where you were coming from and decided to drop the subject for now. You both worked in silence for a while, hanging decorations and setting up tables, but there was an underlying tension between you.

As you were arranging the food on the table, the doorbell rang and you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought of Cillian's mother arriving. However, it was just your best friend Emma. 

"Where is my favorite Babygirl?" she  grinned, taking Mara from her playpen and blowing raspberries on her chubby cheeks.

You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of your best friend, who had known you since you were in high school, playing with Mara. You two had been through so much together and you were grateful to have her in your life.

"I have a super cool present for you,"  she winked, pulling a wrapped gift from her bag.

"Oh my god, Emma, you didn't have to. But I am so excited to see what it is," you grinned, helping Mara opening her first present for the day, inside of which was a beautiful stuffed giraffe  , complete with a pair of pink and white crocheted booties.

"Gigi," Mara smiled, which was what she had called the giraffes at the zoo , her favorite animal.

"I know. Isn't she beautiful?" she said, pointing at the stuffed animal in Mara's arms, already covered with enthusiastic kisses from your daughter.

"Best friend ever," you smiled, hugging Emma tightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Emma said warmly before turning to Sean, introducing herself for the second time around, the first time having been at the nightclub where you had met him.

"Is Cillian okay with this?"  Emma asked, eyeing Sean up and down.

"Yes, I cleared it with him," you told her which is when, again, the doorbell rang and more guests  began to arrive one by one.

Sean remained helpful and kind, keeping his distance from your friends but assisting where needed. You watched him from across the room as he chatted with some people, sipping on his beer, wearing a polite smile on his face. He looked so at ease that you almost forgot about your complicated arrangement until, an hour into the party, the door went off once more.

"I will get it," Sean offered, seeing how busy you were with Mara and her toddler friends.  You nodded appreciatively, relieved to have some extra help at the party. As he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of Cillian who was meant to be in the UK, filming. 

Surprised, Sean took a step back while Cillian stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Sean.

"Sean," Cillian said with restrained hostility as he walked inside. 

Sean tried to keep his cool but couldn't help feeling nervous at Cillian's presence.

"Cillian, what are you doing here?" you asked, surprised, as you made your way over to him.

"Well, I decided to surprise Mara for her birthday. I'm only here for the day though. I got to go back tonight," Cillian explained, unable to take his eyes off Sean and you could sense the tension in the air growing with every passing second.

"Well, I am glad you could make it," you said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Mara is over there if you want to say hi to her," you gestured towards the living room where the children's party was happening.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before nodding and making his way towards the noise and laughter emanating from the other room. 

"There she is," he smiled, picking up Mara and kissing her chubby cheeks. "My little princess," he said as Mara beamed at her father and hugged him tightly. "Happy birthday Sweetie," he told Mara who went straight for Cillian's hair.

"Dada," she grinned, running her tiny hands over the shaved sides on his head, which was clearly a haircut she wasn't too fond about.  "I've missed you Babygirl," Cillian told her affectionately, noticing how Mara's eyes brightened at the sight of him. "Missed me too, huh?" he teased, receiving an adorable giggle in response and, just as you watched this tender moment unfold, you felt a swirl of emotions in the pit of your stomach. You were glad that Mara had her father there for her birthday while Sean, on the other hand, seemed displeased. 

It was clear that he felt uncomfortable around Cillian, and you couldn't blame him. After all, you were still unsure about where you stood with both men, and you knew that keeping a clear mind would be crucial to avoid making any unnecessary mistakes.

As the party progressed, you found yourself caught in a never-ending cycle of keeping a close eye on Mara and making sure that Sean was relaxed and enjoying himself while Cillian socialised with his family and the people around him. 

Mara clung to her father, clearly pleased to see him  and looking adorable in her brand new party dress, complete with a matching headband and shoes. Her laughter filled the air as she played with the other children, who seemed equally delighted to have Cillian there as he was fabulous with young kids, engaging with them in their games and being purposely silly and entertaining. 

Sean, on the other hand, remained somewhat reserved, occasionally joining in conversations but mostly standing off to the side, observing everything. You caught his gaze several times throughout the party, noticing the steady glance he gave you, the subtle twitching of his lips, and the raised eyebrow.

It was as if he could see the turmoil brewing within you, sensing the conflict that raged on inside. You wondered if he knew that you were struggling with your feelings. To what extent and in what ways was he aware of your internal struggle? His knowledge about you had been growing with each passing day, and that realization terrified you. He had been observant and intuitive, but was stopped short of fully understanding what was going on within you. You felt safe, yet vulnerable, anticipating the reckoning that was surely coming.

Cillian's attention seemed focused solely on Mara as she was having the time of her life, laughing joyously and blissfully oblivious to the drama unfolding between her parents. The laughter and chatter of the other children echoed throughout the room, punctuated by sporadic fits of giggles that seemed amplified because of the sheer innocence of their pleasures.

"She is growing up so fast," Cillian murmured, standing up from the floor and watching as Mara sat amongst the other kids her age, playing with blocks. "And yet, I feel like I haven't been here for any part of it lately," he added softly, the regret in his voice unmistakable as he turned his gaze toward you.

"I should have declined that role, Y/N. I've missed so much," he sighed, his eyes searching your face for any hint of understanding. "Only being here every fortnight isn't good enough," he told you, not knowing that Sean was listening in, and you said nothing for a moment, merely holding his gaze as you reflected on his words.

"Life happens, Cillian," you said finally, opting to keep your tone light and neutral to avoid causing any unnecessary drama. "This is your career and we knew this before we brought Mara into this world. In fact, we talked about the logistics of it many times," you  explained gently, trying to make him understand, knowing that this was an important point for him.

"I know, but I would be lying if I said that I didn't miss seeing her every second day or so," Cillian sighed, his eyes softening, "It's just, I don't. It's hard I suppose," he  admitted, looking away briefly before turning back to meet your gaze.

"You know, after my final exams next week and the wedding the week after, Mara and I could stay in Liverpool for a bit," you proposed, thinking that it would be good for Mara to have more time with her father. "After filming, you could spend some time with her, just for an hour or so, and I could take her to the zoo over there and all the other cool places during the day while you are on set,"  you added enthused, wanting Mara to have a good relationship with her father.

Cillian looked surprised but also pleased at the idea. "Really? That would be great, Y/N. Not just for Mara, but for me too," he admitted, smiling at you fondly. "I could rent you a unit and car and you could cruise around with Mara during the day. Maybe the two of you could even visit me on set, unless you think that's weird,"  Cillian offered, taking another sip of his beer.

You shook your head and smiled at him. "No, not weird at all. Unless it's weird for you," you said, seeing how you were no longer together and Mara's visit could even affect his performance on set.

"I think it would be fine. I would love to see her, even if it's just for a little while," he replied with a smile, touching your arm affectionately. You noticed the way Sean was watching you, the subtle tightening of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes. You pulled your arm away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Alright, let's plan it out then," you  said, changing the subject before Cillian could say anything else. "I'll call you next week and we can arrange everything."

Cillian nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Sounds good," he said before making his way back to Mara while you went and stood next to Sean who was nursing a beer. 

"I should go," Sean said after a little while, breaking the silence and you were too busy to notice that he was struggling internally.

"Of course, you don't have to stay," you said, offering him an easy exit.

Sean hesitated for a moment before nodding and making his way towards the door.

You followed him, feeling a sense of guilt wash over you. You had known that inviting Sean to the party would make things complicated, but you hadn't expected it to be this difficult.

"I am sorry Sean. I didn't mean for things to get so awkward," you said softly, as you stood by the entrance.

"It's fine. I knew what I was getting myself into, although I didn't expect HIM to come," Sean replied,  his voice low and gruff as he looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, sadness, and something else that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"I know, but he is Mara's father and I am glad he came, for her," you  said, your voice barely audible as you stood just a few feet away from him, feeling the tension between you grow thicker.

Sean sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, looking you in the eye for a long moment, before replying, "I know, you're right, and I should just leave. But, I hate to admit it, his presence makes me feel like you still belong to him and it bothers me," he admitted and, with that,  the tension between the two of you grew palpable like a storm on the horizon.

Feeling the weight of the situation bearing down upon you, you glanced back into the room, wishing that Cillian could somehow disappear, like a mirage in the desert heat, leaving both you and Sean alone, untouched by the web of complications that had ensnared you both. But, you knew better.

"I belong to no one Sean," you  spoke softly, feeling a sickness rise in your throat at the thought. "Not to Cillian, or you either. I have a life of my own to live."

Your words hung heavy in the humid air, letting the weight of their meaning sink in. Sean looked at you with a troubled gaze, unsure of how to respond.

"I will call you tomorrow?" he then simply asked, causing a flash of confusion in your mind.

"Sure, I would appreciate that," you managed to say before Sean disappeared and drove off  in his car. You returned to the party, feeling lost and confused, trying to shake off the awkward energy that lingered between you and Sean.

Sean, on the other hand, made a call to his friend Mark. "Fuck morals. I am done playing nice. Give me all the dirt you can find on him," he demanded, wasting no time to beat around the bush.

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[lyssasdrafts]

★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

chapter three: (written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist previous next

over the weekend, you had thanked mor countless times for the opportunity she’d given you. she had insisted it wasn’t a big deal, but perhaps she wouldn’t understand how much this meant to you, how badly you had wished for a path in photography to be there for you. it had been a dream that you’d given up on for a long time until you started again for fun in your first year, but you would’ve never thought to consider it until you had the safety net of your degree.

“are we getting distracted now, y/n?” rhysand’s words interrupted your thoughts. you can hear the arrogance that coated his voice like honey. he peers above you, leaning over your desk to stare you down.

you had your chin in your palms and had been staring into the distance, but that didn’t mean you weren’t listening. however, a part of you was embrassed to admit that it was rhysand who caught your attention again and not the lesson. shifting your gaze to look up at him, you fake a smile as you respond, “i can promise you that pretty face isn’t distracting anyone, rhysand.”

rhysand quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like he was trying to guess what you were thinking about. “i never implied you were distracted by me in particular,” rhysand says blankly before a smirk makes his way onto his lips. you blink at him, realizing the insinuation about what you’d said. you curse yourself for referring to rhysand as pretty, but he definitely knew what you were talking about. it wasn’t unlike him to wink at people on campus and make small flirty comments when he knew he could talk someone into something. perhaps he’d even tried it on you at some point. it was a skill that you sometimes envied, the only ever way you convinced people was through your clever reasoning. at some point, you’d heard from elain that apparently you also happen to be quite intimidating unintentionally, something she said you had in common with nesta.

you take a moment before you respond, using it to scan rhysand’s figure. he wore his usual dress pants and a white button down shirt, his jacket further showing off his expensive preferences. despite the shiny silver watch and necklace he used to accessorize, he made himself look more casual by undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. you admired his style only because you could tell rhysand takes good care of himself and as a photographer. you recognized his jacket to be from a designer you admired and studied, revealing how his taste could be similar to yours. although he was a bother for you, the bastard didn’t have a bad fashion sense at all.

rhysand continues to stare down at you, while you wanted nothing more than to slap the expression off his face. his gaze made you uncomfortable, it burned into your skin and left your heart beating faster. he was insufferable, always taking pleasure in annoying and distressing you when he could’ve been a friend. in a perfect world, the two of you should be helping each other instead, if only rhysand wasn’t so petty and you weren’t so competitive.

you stand up for your desk, the chair making a squeak that catches the attention of some people sitting around you. those glances in your direction are ignored as you stare back at rhysand, your faces slightly inched closer than when you were sitting down. you give him one last comment before you stride out of class.

“you clearly think so highly of yourself that i’m not wrong. but since i’m not as vain as you, i have better things to do than entertain you.”

you’d actually been in a good mood for your entire ride to the studio, despite your earlier conversation with rhysand. you had brushed it off for once instead of obsessing over every comment and heading to the library, insisting on working harder to beat him.

this was your first professional shoot as a photographer, and you had a likely chance of being asked to keep working with the studio since the previous one had quit. never once would you imagine that posting your account online and building your portfolio that it would be shown to someone at a studio like this one. you didn’t believe in fate, but a part of you thanked every star in the sky that you ended up with mor as your roommate. maybe there was some greater power that brought you and your best friend together.

perhaps this could become a real job for you, unlike what your parents had always insinuated. you could work in engineering after your degree while free lancing as a photographer. perhaps if you were really good and built a name for yourself, you could even do photography full time. you would prove your family wrong, you could find a job that provides for them plenty enough.

the studio lobby is quite modern and newly renovated, you can tell from the moment you walked through the revolving doors of the building. from the running water fountain to the hanging lights over the main desk. checking in was easy as well, once you gave the name of morrigan’s manager you were immediately given an entry pass and escorted to the correct room.

the studio room is smaller than you expected, though it definitely wasn’t underwhelming. the small room was full of lights, with different backdrops in multiple colors. the equipment caught your eye the most, with large heavy professional cameras that you almost didn’t want to touch in fear of how expensive they probably were. these were cameras that you probably wouldn’t ever get a chance to buy on your own without getting a job in photography first.

you’re left alone in the studio room after being told that the model would be out shortly. even though it was a smaller space that the studio offered, you were told that this model was apparently quite promising, but he just preferred to work with few people. you hadn’t realized until now that there wasn’t anyone else working on the shoot with you, though you didn’t really feel like it was your place to request for any staff.

you realized that he would arrive any moment now and notice the door in the back leading to a dressing room. you remind yourself that everything will be alright, that you can handle being alone with a stranger for an hour or two. you didn’t necessarily need to be too nice since you didn’t want to come across as desperate, just polite enough to be professional. your model would likely be a beginner as well, someone who might understand your current position.

in the corner of your eye, you notice a navy blue jacket hanging off a chair, proving your assumption that the model was probably in the dressing room. you can’t help but recognize the design, the style of the fabric that almost looked black from a nontechnical eye and you realize that you’ve seen it earlier.

your eyes widen once the door creaks open and rhysand steps out, fixing his hair before his gaze shifts to look for his photographer. your jaw drops at the sight of him.

“y/n,” rhysand pauses, angling his body towards you before lifting an eyebrow again. “are you stalking me now too?”

— NOTES

the bat boys are bit mischaracterized at the beginning to show y/n’s misconception of them

y/n is so clearly attracted to rhysand physically… despite hating his personality <3

y/n always wanted to be a professional photographer but their family disapproved and so they decided to go into astrophysics instead :(

— TAGLIST

@thelov3lybookworm @starsand @lilah-asteria @therealmoonstone @just-a-social-casualty-1 @ashjade19 @girlontheblock @cherry-cin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sweet-chai-amore @kierramofficial @noelli-smv @c-dizzle99 @littlestw01f @marina468

[skyward-floored]

Please oh please some Four and Wind hanging out or doing hero stuff? <3

How about both? (Set when they’re both a little older, early teens-ish)

————————————————————

“Why is this guy robbing a fast food place? Why does everyone rob fast food places?” Wind huffed, face annoyed as he peered up over his seat at the guy pointing a gun at the cashier. “Wouldn’t a bank be better? These places can’t have that much money. The cashier just looks like he’s about to faint, that guy will be lucky if he gets anything. Sheesh. All I wanted was a burger...”

“Wind shh, I’m trying to think of a plan,” Four hissed, pulling him back behind the seat. “Get down here.”

Wind ducked under the table where Four was sheltering, avoiding a sticky puddle of dried soda as he scooted in next to him. They could still hear the robber at the counter talking, and Wind glared as a pair of boots wandered past their table.

One guy they could have just handled, but the robber had brought two others, and neither Wind or Four wanted to see how itchy his trigger finger was. Wind was pretty sure they were just some low-rate kind of criminals, but his Dad always reminded them not to underestimate people.

So he’d let Four make a plan. Even if he would’ve just jumped out there and made something up on the spot.

“Okay, whatcha got?” Wind whispered, and Four motioned to the abandoned fries he’d set up on the ground.

“Okay, so this fry is you, and this one is me. I was figuring we’d do that thing we did when—”

“I’m not that short,” Wind interrupted, and swapped the fry with one that was much longer. “There. Continue.”

Four rolled his eyes. “Right. So we don’t have space to change into our suits, so we can’t just charge out there, but if you go out and— Wind don’t eat that.”

Wind was eating the new fry he’d designated as himself. “What, this one wasn’t even fuzzy! And I’m hungry, they haven’t filled our order yet.”

Four swiped the probably months-old fry from his brother, then shook his head in exasperation.

“Wind focus. Look, just do that thing we did when we stopped that one mall robbery,” he said, and Wind perked up.

“Right, gotcha! I distract, you go thwack,” he said with a grin, and Four gave him a flat look.

“That doesn’t make any more sense then it did the first time you said it.”

“Well I like it.”

Four shook his head, then motioned Wind out, giving his arm a quick squeeze before he went. Be careful.

Wind squeezed back. I will.

Then he slipped out from under the table, quickly squishing a bunch of ketchup packets into his hand. The handful of other people in the restaurant watched him nervously, and Wind winked at a frightened-looking girl.

Then he squished the ketchup over his eye.

She giggled, and Wind turned to the counter, then let out a blood-curdling yell, collapsing dramatically to a knee.

All three robbers turned, their eyes going wide behind their masks when they saw the ‘blood’ all over his face, and Wind forcibly held back a grin.

“My eye!” he wailed, squishing another ketchup pouch in his hand. “I can’t see, I can’t see! It hurts!”

“Oh my gods, what happened?” one of the robbers whispered in a horrified voice, and no one noticed Four slip out of his booth and slowly work his way around to the counter.

Wind for once was glad for his baby-face as he began to cry, faking a coughing fit into his hand. He made sure that the ketchup in his hand was visible as he finished coughing, and one of the robbers made a gagging noise.

“I want my mom!” he wailed, and the three of them continued to stare in horror at him, looking unsure of what to do.

Four meanwhile, edged behind the counter, ducking beside the cowering cashier, who was almost certainly not being paid enough for this. He put a finger to his lips, then cautiously looked over the counter at where the robbers stood.

“Look, kid, calm down, I’m sure your mom is here somewhere,” one of the robbers finally said, sounding panicked as he looked at Wind. “I’m sure she can help you with your uh... eye.”

His face turned a little green from behind his mask, but it was then that the robber with the gun stepped a little closer, beginning to look suspicious.

“Wait a second. Guys, does that blood seem a little—”

Four cut him off by jumping up onto the counter, and then onto his back.

He quickly knocked the gun from his hand, and the man stumbled, obviously not expecting the weight of a teenager. He fell to the ground with a yelp, and Wind ran forward and kicked the legs out from under one of the robbers, surreptitiously using his winds to throw the other one to the floor.

He quickly grabbed their weapons as well, and Four gave him a fist bump as he hopped off the back of the one, the crooks all looking dazed at their sudden takedown.

“Nice going,” Wind said, and Four smiled back.

“You too.”

The cashier peeked over the counter from where he’d taken shelter, and visibly relaxed at the sight of the crooks on the ground. The other customers came out of hiding, and a few cheers went up from the small crowd, Wind rubbing his eye as he waved at them.

“...you good?” Four asked Wind, and Wind nodded, wincing as he blinked his eye a few times.

“Yeah. I just got ketchup in my eye. It stings too, what do they put in this stuff?!”

“Tomatoes. Which are acidic,” Four said with a little grin, and Wind sighed as people began to thank them, the restaurant manager looking especially relieved.

“Great. And I think I lost my appetite for burgers,” he grumbled, and Four chuckled as the manager walked up to them.

“I can’t thank you two enough, you’ve done quite a service for us here,” she smiled. “It’s not much, but can I offer you anything on the menu? It’s on the house.”

Wind quit his complaining instantly, and gave her a wide smile. “You know what? I was just thinking a burger would be delicious.”

Four hid his laugh, and he and Wind spent the rest of the afternoon eating way too many French fries.

[holly-opal]

🎪The opposite digital circus 🎪

So I thought a thought and i made tadc swap au. Except they swap personalities and are the opposite of themselves.

Pomni

Instead of being anxious and wanting to find an exit, Pomni is over the moon and is very happy to be here. She has always wanted to be in a happier world when she was in the real world, and now she is! Pomni has made friends with everyone! Sometimes she sings songs out of nowhere like a Disney princess with music no one else can hear, she talks to imaginary animal friends, and she makes jokes even at the most inappropriate times. She would honestly get along with Kaufmo.

Jax

Instead of being mean and egoistical, he's more shy and quiet, often staying out of the way of conflict. He likes to make his own movies in the tadc version of Windows Movie Maker (inspired by @sm-baby) and occasionally make pillows forts with Kinger and Zooble. He is relentlessly bullied by Gangle and sometimes gets yelled at by Ragatha, but he still sees the good side of people. He's the type of person to give people a second chance even after they've already broken every chance they've got. He gets along with Kinger and Zooble the best, and he has a bit of a crush on Pomni. He used to make comedy movies with Kaufmo.... But we all know how that turned out.

Ragatha

Instead of being optimistic and caring, she's pessimistic and is very dead inside. She doesn't like to be around people and is more often in her room when not on adventures. She is very depressed and is prone to lash out to others, she doesn't really mean it tho. She finds it hard to cope in the digital realm, she's practically stopped cleaning her room. She and Gangle fight a lot, she finds it hard to relate to Zooble and Jax, Kinger is very naggy, and Pomni is... Well Pomni. She was good friends with Kaufmo though...

Zooble

Instead of being moody and avoidant, they're very carefree and adventurous. They love being around people and experimenting with creative projects like sculpting, lego building, etc. They still have an identity crisis and smoke a lot though. They sometimes try to get Jax into drugs, Kinger scolds them alot about that lmao. They used to smoke a lot with Kaufmo.

Gangle

Instead of being sad and kind, she is a BITCH- Jk but she is mean tho. She takes out her anger about being stuck in a digital hell out of people, particularly Jax cause he's the weakest. Her sad mask is replaced with her angry mask, which makes her yell and harm everyone in her path. Gangle still has the happy mask, but it's more passive aggressive and fake now. She still writes fanfiction and watches anime tho. She sometimes forced Kaufmo to watch an anime.

Kinger

Instead of being..... Well very kooky, he's more logical and stable. He acts like a father figure to most of the inhabitants in the circus. He likes to research bugs and capture them, he sometimes captures the centipedes for Ragatha. He has a very low tolerance for anyone's bullshit, especially Gangle's or Ragatha's. He's usually very sweet, but can be VERY scary when he's mad. Besides Gangle and Ragatha, he's good friends with everyone else, he even had a crush on a certain ringleader (Wink wink 😉) Kaufmo supported him having a crush on the AI.

Caine

What was once an enthusiastic and happy ringleader, became depressed and apathetic to it all. After watching players abstract day after day after day after day, he became less of himself. Eventually becoming more sad and unmotivated, only doing the adventures cause it's the only thing to do nowadays. Although he doesn't see the point in it, he's still good friends with the inhabitants, but he keeps his distance. He truly does love the chess king, but he knows it's only a matter of time before he abstracts. Hell, Kaufmo already did.

And that's everyone! I'll do more with this au, such as making everyone's designs, make comics, and other stuff. Here are some drawings of them

[mvltisstuff]

Hi I was wondering do you write for Bobby Nash? If you do, I wondering if you can do something like the whole 118 (including reader) surprising Bobby with Father’s Day gifts and tho him a little party. If you don’t mind writing a little late Father’s Day special.

I think it would very cute bc we can all agree that Bobby is the Father of the 118 crew, and I feel like he needs to be appreciated more :)

I hope ur doing well and keep it up with the good writing, I love all of your fics ❤️

kids - b.n

summary: request :)

bobby nash x platonic!reader x the 118 being his children fr

a/n: i’m a little late to the father’s day game… but i hope you all had a wonderful day and i hope you checked up on those who might not be as fortunate that day <3 enjoy ml, thank you for this sweet request!

y/n had caught bobby just getting off the engine after a call, practically appearing out of nowhere to grab him. she brought him away and up the stairs, leading him to the kitchen.

when bobby walked in, everyone had been in there with small wrapped presents and gift bags. bobby shook his head, “what is all this, guys?”

“happy father’s day!” buck yells, blowing a little party horn as he pushes the gift closer to bobby.

everyone at the station considered bobby as their non-biological father. not a single day went by where bobby wasn’t by their side. he was their captain, but also their friend. bobby fought alongside all of them and they all fought his battles for him. he never imagined that he would have all these people who loved him after what happened. he carried crushing guilt and was prepared to leave it all behind, making it impossible to open up. everyone at the firehouse saved him in every way a person can be saved. he brought out the best version of everyone. he never gave up hope on anyone and everyone there couldn’t thank him enough. y/n was hired by bobby, being her first accepting captain who actually cared about her and the job. she was a light to his day, and his guidance made her a better worker and person. he was their number one soldier.

“bobby, you’re the dad of this firehouse,” hen said.

“you did not have to do any of this,” he says. as kind of a gesture as this is, it’s making him miss his own children even more. however, he didn’t lose all of his children.

“c’mon, cap,” buck speaks excitedly. “you treat me more like a son than my real dad ever has. and you didn’t have to do that. so, open these gifts right now!”

bobby takes bucks first, stripping the bag of the paper and taking out the figure inside. it was a bobble head dressed in firefighting gear, who had similar features to bobby. “where the hell did you get this, buck?” bobby laughs and grins.

“the internet is a very big place, cap.”

“mine next!” chim yells, practically throwing his box into bobby’s arms. when he ripped the red and blue wrapping paper open, it revealed a red tumbler with captain nash on it, along with an LAFD badge above it. chimney weakly taped a picture of his face onto it. “your coffee cups are practically all falling apart, so i wanted to get you the best one out there. and i added some personalization to it,” he winks.

“thank you very much, chimney,” bobby smiles. “i’ll always think about you with my coffee from now on.”

bobby receives an extremely lavish watch from ravi, and his face drops as he opens it. it had little designs on the inside of the glass. “panikkar! how much was this?”

“oh you know, just pocket change,” he teases.

he opens the rest from eddie and hen, along with a few other gifts he received from people. he saved one of the closest for last. y/n gently handed her gift to bobby and set it down in front of him. she had curled the ribbon and wrapped it almost perfectly.

laying on top of the main gift was an air freshener for his car, shaped like a turnout jacket and an axe. it had his name on it and was his favorite scent. underneath was a board, with clear wooden writing. it wrote, captain nash, a true hero. all the names were in a circle around the quote including, diaz, buckley, wilson, han, y/l/n, panikkar. there was small pin on the inside with the word hero on it. “it’s a good luck charm, from all of us. you can wear it on your uniform or whatever you want to wear it on.”

bobby had suddenly been overwhelmed from the love he had been faced with. it was something he wanted for years, but never thinking he was worthy of something like it. a few years earlier, he was ready to leave the world after making up for his losses. when hen and buck found him knocked out from the amount of booze he’d consumed, he knew people were on his side. he was the most they could ask from a father. his eyes became glossy, but he refused to cry any form of tears in front of his crew anymore, even happy ones. he forced a strong front, but the appreciation from his kids brought down the walls.

now, bobby walks into the station every morning, the pin on one of his pockets, his tumbler in hand, a t-shirt from hen or eddie, his new watch. lastly, of course, he walked into his office to see the bobble head of himself on his desk.

he wore all of these items as much as he could, every single one meaning more to him than words. he never thought of himself as a hero, but the complete opposite. everything he is given was a gift, and represents the pure love everyone has for him. however, nothing can ever beat the true family gift of the 118.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

omg bond would be an incredible choice for a knight/queen au,, I would go so crazy if you ever wrote that

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.

Notes: Not beta-read. Reread several times and will probably spot 87 typos once I hit post.

Sometimes you write a regular fic and other times you find yourself googling whether or not people performed oral sex in the medieval era. it's all a crap shoot.

anyway.

Length: 7.9K

Warnings: Slow burn; explicit sexual content - oral sex; vaginal sex

From the moment that he kneels before you—as the light sets a halo about his blond hair, and as he tips his chin up to meet your eye and murmur his oath of fealty—you know that he’ll be trouble. It’s in the flash of his eye. 

His crisp blue gaze flickers to yours, and he shoots you a wink with such speed that your husband hardly has the chase to catch it. It makes your stomach flip with an allure and vehemence that nearly unseats your stern concentration.The feeling that rises in you isn’t love. It’s not even interest. 

It’s fear. 

-- 

He trails you like a shadow. 

You can’t blame him; you know that he acts on your husband’s orders. Blofeld worries for your youth, and fears the possibility that you may stray. You have a guard set on you every day and night. On the evenings that you don’t spend with Blofeld, you sleep with Bond posted just inside your door on your husband’s insistence, ensuring that your bed remains empty, and cold.

On those nights that he occupies the stool beside your door, you sleep very little. He stays awake out of a sense of duty; you stay awake with the lingering, heavy knowledge of the man just a few feet away. You know that he’s popular with the ladies of court. He can’t stride or ride by without inspiring the twittering of giggles and whispers by the ladies gazing from behind their fans, or over the tops of their books. You hear of his bawdy teasing, his warm smiles, his winks. You’ve never been privy to them, save for the single flash of a wink as he swore his oath to you, and to Blofeld. When your protector’s name and nighttime companion are brought up in conversation among your ladies, you force a straight face regardless of their speculations and teasing. For all of your interest and fascination, you have no right, no daring to look toward a knight with interest. 

Even if you did—even if you had any sort of designs on Bond, any interest in the way his gazes hold to yours, and the way his careful grasp lingers as he helps you from a horse or carriage—your affair would be nigh on impossible. 

It’s no matter. 

Your husband has spies in the court, so many that you have no trust in Bond’s exclusion among their number. You hardly trust your ladies maids. For all of their own secrets that they share, and their encouragement to trust them with the matters that occupy your head and heart, you shield yourself from them. 

Well, from most of them. 

Lady Eve is the only one of your ladies maids that came to Blofeld’s court with you when you were sent to wed him. She’s your only true confidant, quick with a smile and a joke if needed, and skilled at unsheathing her sharp tongue to guide the other ladies back into line if they begin to speak or act out of turn. She manages several duties that you wouldn’t trust others with: running messages, communicating with cooks and servants. Between Blofeld’s controlling insistences and Eve’s obliging care, you slowly build a wall around yourself, separating you from the court, and the people that look to your husband for guidance. 

--  

“You ought to try smiling one of these days.” 

It’s not an unexpected criticism, but it’s certainly an unwanted one. You’d be happy to spend the afternoon in the garden in a companionable quiet, but it seems that she has other plans. You cast Eve a surly glance, but her smile remains bright and unwavering. Her hands work just as steadily, knitting needles clicking softly as she casts off. 

“I mean it,” She insists, finally lowering her gaze to her work. “If you’re not careful, you’ll forget how.” 

You sigh softly, shoulder slouching slightly as you look around the expanse of grass, and the vines creeping up the sides of the castle walls. 

“I’ve no reason to smile.” 

“You’re alive. Is that not reason enough?” 

“No. It is not.”

“...You know what you ought to do.”

Your stomach churns with the conspiratorial edge to Eve’s voice. You glance toward her again to find her pointedly fixated on her craft. 

“It would never work,” You insist. 

“It could.”

“He would have my head.” 

“Only if you were caught.” 

Eve’s conspiratorial gaze flickers to you again, her smile widening. You can’t bring yourself to feel the same sense of mirth, of excitement. 

“Your Majesty.” 

You whirl around, spotting one of your husband’s advisors. Bond lingers not too far behind, his hand poised on his sword as if the man is a stranger—as if you’re about to ask him to take the advisor’s head off. 

“The King insists on your presence in the throne room.” 

You nod, stony-faced. “I will join him presently.” 

The advisor gives a low bow before he turns, striding away without you. You shift up onto your knees, wobbling as the fabric of your dress catches beneath your shoe. Before you can tumble backward, a firm hand rests against your lower back, and another hand catches hold of your own flailing one. You freeze at the steady contact, your eyes widening as you look up at Bond. He draws you up gently. Your legs feel unsteady, even when you’re drawn to your full height, with your feet planted firmly on the ground. Bond’s arm skims against your side, his fingers flexing in the fabric of your desk as his thumb sweeps tenderly across the side of your hand. It sends heat skittering through your body, and sets your heart fluttering in your chest. Bond’s eyes search yours in silence, his brow scrunching slightly. Your gaze drops to his lips, and damnably lingers as his pink tongue sweeps across his lip. 

You’re jolted by the clacking of Eve’s knitting needles, and the sound of her pointedly clearing her throat. You step out of Bond’s grasp, yanking your hand from his as you avert your nervous eyes. 

“...Thank you, Sir James.” 

“At your service, Your Majesty.” 

You stalk around him with Eve hot at your heels. You feel him tracking you as you leave him standing alone in the garden. 

--  

He would have your head. 

Blofeld is not known for a tendency toward kindness. He has a reputation for his traps, for tricking opponents into showing their hands for the purpose of identifying their weak spots. He makes no attempt to shield you from his bloodlust and cruelty. You take each instance of outward barbarism as a warning, each smiling goad and teasing admonition as a silent threat: 

This could be you.

--  

The festivities to celebrate the day of Blofeld’s birth are a mighty affair. The events are to last a week. Lords, ladies, vassals, and knights arrive from all over the kingdom. There are dances, plays, poetry readings—and most importantly, a tournament. Of all of these events, you know that it’s crucial that you’re present for the tournament. With all of his barbarity, Blofeld adores the play of war. He takes inordinate pleasure in watching his knights fight for his attention, and finds amusement in the spilling of their blood. 

You have little interest in watching men beat one another senselessly, but you know that you must make a public showing, not only for your husband, but for the court, and his people. 

For all of your impatience and disinterest, you can’t help but keep your eyes trained on Sir James. His form and composure are a fascinating sight. You see the man nearly every day, but hardly ever in this way. It bolsters your belief that should you be attacked in the night, the man hunkering by your door will protect you with his life—and come out cleanly on the other side. 

When he approaches the stands on horseback before the joust, you’re certain that he’ll ask your husband to look on him with approval. But after he dips his head in deference toward your husband, he turns his attention to you. 

“Your Majesty,” He speaks up loudly enough for others in the stands to hear him, “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to wear your favors today?”

You can see Blofeld turn to you expectantly out of the corner of your eye, and hear the murmur of others around you. In the two years you’ve been married to Blofeld, you’ve never given your favors to any knight—every knight has been too afraid of your husband to ask. And since the very first moment you saw Sir James, since he gave you that quick wink as he swore his fealty, he has avoided untoward outward displays of interest. This is hardly untoward, but you know that it’ll set tongues wagging among the court. Now, you rise from your seat, fingers twining in the rich purple fabric. Sir James raises his lance, resting it on the railing for the stand. You look down, fighting to steady your shaking fingers as you carefully tie and knot the favor around the lance’s blunted tip before you step back again. The two of you trade a genial nod before you lower yourself to sit on your cushioned seat again. With nothing else to hold to, you rest your hands on the arms of your seat. 

It’s no great surprise that with his skill, Bond rises through the standings throughout the tournament. You watch time and again as he lowers his visor, tilts his lance, and sends his opponents off-kilter, or crashing through the ground. But his form, while near-perfect, is not invincible. Perhaps it’s just as well that the one man that matches him equally is the one that he’s closest to in court. In the rare moments that you’ve seen Bond relaxed, he’s been with Sir Felix. They were squires with the same knight, became warriors in the same war—and, if rumor is to be believed, became men with the same woman. They are as near to brothers as any two unrelated men could be. 

Perhaps it’s this familiarity that drives them both to tilt with such ferocity—a ferocity that nearly knocks Bond from his horse during the second round. A gasp catches in your throat as James’ body is bounced, nearly prone in his saddle. It’s another moment before he straightens. As he removes his helmet, you can just make out his expression twisting with discomfort, his startled, dazed blinking as blood runs from his forehead, nearly obscuring one of his bright eyes. Your stomach flips, and you tighten your grip on the arms of the chair to keep from rising to your feet. You have a damnable urge to run to him, to use your sleeves to wipe the blood from his face, and insist that he leave the tournament to see a physician.

Bond just impatiently pushes his squire’s hand away as the young boy tries to clean the blood from his master’s head. Bond crams his helmet back onto his head and grasps his previously fallen lance. Your gaze darts between him and Sir Felix as each man takes up their positions. Blofeld leans in to you, mistaking your panic for rapt interest. 

“Now all Felix has to do to finish him off is land a blow to James’ arm,” He says, “And he’ll win the championship.” 

“Has he ever won before?” You ask. 

“No. There’s yet to be a tournament that Bond hasn’t won. But that is all about to change.

Turning to look at your husband, you find his smile split wide into a bloodcurdling giddy grin. When he turns it toward you, you push a smile onto your lips, and murmur, 

“If his defeat pleases you, then it shall please me.” 

Blofeld’s grin manages to widen, and he claps his hand over yours with stinging force. You break your attention from one another as the thundering of hooves fills the air. Your gut tightens, your heart sinks—and then soars as a solid blow sends Felix tumbling from his horse and onto the ground. The crowd roars as James hoists his lance high in victory with your favor blowing in the wind, and you have to bite back your own sound of excitement. You feel Blofeld’s grip go slack, then drop away to grudgingly applaud Bond’s efforts. 

Bond’s face is as victorious as he tosses off his helmet, despite the river of red obscuring part of his face. He turns finally to the stand again and slides from his horse, kneeling to Blofeld. 

You know that Bond will be crowned champion. You’re certain that your husband is displeased. 

-- 

For all of his cruelty, Blofeld hardly exerts that power over you in your bed chamber. You spend most nights alone, and it’s rare that he orders for you to join him. His birthday is always one such occasion. You resign yourself to a dispassionate evening—a handful of thrusts, an encouraging pat on your cheek, and a mumble of producing an heir before he rolls away from you. You’re certain that he spends most nights with other women. 

You are at once grateful and pitying of their place in your husband’s affections.

Tonight, there is no knight in your chamber. It’s simply you, your husband, and the shock of Bond’s bright gaze and shining halo of hair in your mind’s eye. 

--  

You’re told of Bond’s carousing. Eve recounts how the evening unfolded to you as you breakfast together in your chambers. She tells you that Sir James and Sir Felix’s antics continued through the evening, starting with an arm wrestle, and ending with a drinking contest. She teases that Sir James was seen leaving the hall, following Lady Vesper into the night. The news unsettles you so much that you lower the last of your bread, unable to stomach it. For all of Eve’s teasing, she quiets when she notes your discomfort. 

“...You would have enjoyed yourself,” She finally offers. 

“I did enjoy myself.” 

It’s a hollow insistence, and one that she knows as well as you is a lie. 

-- 

Despite his victory and the whispers of his evening with Lady Vesper, Bond is as attentive and consistent with his attention toward you the following day. He has a bandage on his head, and you recognize a smear of salve that the physician uses on wounds. You go about your day as usual, fighting the urge to ask Bond if he needs rest, or if he’s in any pain, if he feels that your favors brought him any luck. 

The question sits on your lips all day. In the evening, alone with him, you can’t bring yourself to quiet it anymore:

“Are you quite well?” 

He hasn’t settled on his stool yet. He stands firm by the door, his hands clasped in front of himself. Surprise flits across his expression so quickly that you nearly don’t catch it, but he smooths it away again. 

“Well, ma’am?” 

You swallow thickly, tightening your robe around yourself and gesturing toward the bandage on his forehead. 

“You took a hard hit at the tournament yesterday.” 

His hand raises to it, but he stops and lowers his hand before he can touch it. 

“I have taken worse.

“I’m sure.” 

Perhaps that was a wrong thing to say; Bond’s gaze seems to narrow just a touch. 

“I am well, ma’am.” 

You give a short nod, mumbling, “Good,” Before you shuffle over to your bed. You blow out the remaining candles, plunging the room into darkness before you shrug your robe off and toss it aside. You curl up under the covers, curling your arms under your pillow and peering toward the window as you hear Bond lower himself to the stool. Tonight, you can’t abide by the quiet. Tonight, you find yourself fearing that you may have offended James when you simply meant to ask after his help.

“Goodnight, Sir James,” You murmur. You hear nothing for a few long moments, and you resign yourself to a cold loneliness. And then, so softly that you nearly miss it— 

“Goodnight, ma’am.”   

--  

The trip is a mandatory one, and something that you’ve undertaken twice before. It’s customary for Blofeld to make the journey, as he has every year since he was a young boy. The trip is long and arduous, tracked over the same path time and time again. You school your focus and try to embroider or read, despite the lingering headache that it inspires. You’ve learned the hard way that Blofeld doesn't care for idle hands, even if the efforts are to your detriment. 

Still, you squint narrowly, fighting to hold the book steady as the carriage rocks and jostles along the forest path. You push off the lingering fatigue that you feel, certain that if you nod off, Blofeld will level some whack or shove to bring you to again. It’s no use. Your eyelids begin to droop, and your head begins to hang over your book as your focus grows…dim…

You’re awakened at a thwack on the side of the carriage. Your eyes snap open, and you startle, shrieking when you spot an arrowhead buried beside your head in the wall of the carriage. You realize that the carriage has come to a standstill, and the air is filled with shouting voices and the hammering of hooves. The carriage door is flung open, and you cower as best you can as you hear Blofeld demanding, “Take her!” 

You think that you may be greeted with the concern of one of your loyal knights, but shock and fear twine in your belly as an unfamiliar bandit shoves his face through the door. He gives you a sinister grin, showcasing his scant, yellow teeth before he grasps your wrist and yanks you roughly from the carriage. You scream as you’re dragged out into the cold, your face pelted with torrential rain. You try in vain to dig your heels in, struggling and tugged through the mud. You can hear a fight around you, the yowling of Blofeld’s commands in his thin, screeching voice. For all of your efforts, you’re pulled nearer and nearer to the tree line. You wobble, losing your footing as your toe catches on the root of a tree. You stumble, and are shoved to the ground as your attacker lets go of you. You shriek as he catches hold of your collar, yanking you along like a disloyal dog. 

You draw in tight breaths, hands scrabbling with your clothing. You hear the thudding of boots running through mud before you’re abruptly dropped to the ground. Looking up, you hear the singing of steel, and the clash of it makes you wince, the sound grating to your ears. You recognize one of the knights as one of Blofeld’s men, but you can’t make out which. It’ll win. You scramble to stand, hands suctioning to the mud as you push yourself up before hurrying away from the road, deeper into the woods too dark to see which one—and for as much trust as you have in their skill, you have no certainty that they’s. 

You pant as you run, looking back every few moments to ensure that there’s no one following you. When you see a shadow falling into step with you, your heart pounds impossibly harder, and you face forward, pushing your legs to pump harder than your screaming muscles ought to allow. Someone catches hold of your hand, and you scream as you’re yanked to turn. A gloved hand claps over your mouth, and familiar blue eyes catch on yours. 

Sir James hushes you, snapping, “It’s me!” 

You push his hand away from your mouth, heaving in greedy breaths. You glance around as you hear the clashing of steel, the shouts of men that must still be by the road. Sapped of speech by your panic, you allow him to pull you along through the woods, winding a path that you’ve never known and will never be able to remember. Night is falling as quickly as the rain tumbles from the sky, and it becomes harder and harder to keep up with Bond. You finally manage to yank your hand loose from his, leaning back against a tree. You’re weak with fatigue, and your lungs and legs are pained. Sir James turns to face you, glancing around the tree that you’ve leaned against. 

“We cannot stop, ma’am.” 

“I need—I need a moment,” You insist between pants, bracing your trembling body against the tree. Bond glances around you again, taking a couple more steps toward you cautiously. 

“We need to get to safety before these woods grow too dark to travel.” He shifts his saddlebag on his shoulder, glancing over you as well as he can. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks. 

“No.” 

“You’re shaking.” 

“I’m cold.” 

Sir James reaches out, gently sweeping a few drops of rain from your cheek. Heat pulses through you despite the chill, your lip wobbling a touch. 

“Your Majesty,” He urges, “I know that you are tired, but we must go. There is an inn not far from here. We will room there for the night, and then we will find a way back to the castle, or to the king.” 

The king. You hadn’t thought of Blofeld, had time enough to well up your righteous anger. It surges up so harshly and suddenly that it pushes your breath from your body in a harsh pant. You swallow thickly as the sound seems to rouse Bond’s concern. 

“Alright,” You concede softly, “Alright. But…Must we run so fast?” 

Bond’s lips twitch slightly, and you know that he’s fighting off amusement. 

“Perhaps not quite so fast, Majesty.” 

--  

The inn is a ramshackle little thing compared to the castle that you’ve become accustomed to. You can’t help your embarrassment as passersby cast you curious and pitying looks, taking in your mud-soaked garments and chilled body. Your confusion is jolted when you hear Bond’s barked argument, the slamming of his first on the table. You turn toward him and find him staring the innkeeper down. 

“I told you,” You hear Bond growl, “I will pay you in four days time.” 

“You pay me now, or you sleep outside, in the mud.” 

You start forward before you can stop yourself, yanking your wedding ring off of your finger and joining Bond at the table. 

“This will cover it,” You insist primly, pressing it into the inn keeper’s hand, “Along with firewood, and meals. We will need hot water as well.” 

The innkeeper seems stunned by the sight of the thick gold band encrusted with rubies. Shock radiates from Bond beside him. You keep your gaze on the innkeeper before you clear your throat firmly. The innkeeper snaps to, stumbling over himself to round the table. His words fumble, offering to take Bond’s saddlebag in the same breath that he urges you to follow him. 

-- 

The room is nicer than you expected, but only slightly. There’s a large bed across from a fireplace, with a wool rug in the middle. There’s a shallow washbin in the corner with a pile of linen beside it, and a bar of soap sitting atop the fabric. Bond waves the servants carting the water deeper inside, and nods innkeeper away as he tries to further offer services. Bond simply insists that food and wine is brought as quickly as possible. Once he’s gone, Bond lowers his saddle bag. He looks around, catching sight of a solid partition divider. He takes hold of it, moving it around to the basin and setting it in front. You watch him stride back to his saddlebag then, drawing off his gloves and tossing them aside before he begins to look through his things. After a few moments, he draws out a long tunic, and rises. 

“It…” His gaze drifts over your muddied clothing. “I’m sorry that it isn’t what you’re used to.”

You shake your head a touch. 

“It is clean,” You insist, “And at this moment, that is all that matters.” You pluck it gently from his hands, muttering your thanks before you round behind the partition. You remove your soiled garments one by one, wincing at the dried mud crackling and dirtying the floor. 

“If you give me your garments,” Bond’s voice rings out on the other side, “We’ll have them washed.” 

Embarrassment churns your stomach, but you force it back and away in favor of throwing them over the divider. You wince as it rocks, then puff out a breath of relief as it settles without falling. After a moment, the cloth slips over the other side of the partition. You wash yourself as thoroughly as you can, scrubbing away the muck and the sweat and the panic. You feel yourself relaxing incrementally. It doesn’t disappear fully; it can’t, with you fully bare on one side of the partition, and your protector fully clothed and waiting just on the other side. Your heart flutters in your chest when you hear him move, or sigh, or clear his throat. Once you’re clean, you pull the light grey tunic on. The fabric is a little itchy, but it’s a far cry from the fabric you’re used to—lighter, and…Shorter. It hardly brushes your knees. You go warm with nerves as you gaze at the expanse of your bare legs that will be revealed to him. You’ve really no other choice, and you try to make peace with that. 

You’re about to step from behind the partition when you hear the door open, and freeze. The murmur of Bond and the innkeeper’s voices exchanging food and soiled clothing drops away quickly enough, and is chased by the door behind closed again. You wait a few moments in testy silence before speaking up:

“May I come out now?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You step out from around the partition, pointedly avoiding Bond’s eye as you walk to where plates laden with food have been set down on the wool rug. 

“Smells good,” You mumble, lowering yourself to the floor. When Bond makes no response, you glance warily uup at him. You thrill when you find his gaze sweeping your bare skin with covetous fascination. When his eye catches on yours, it lingers. You’re a touch stunned by his boldness, though perhaps you ought not to be. This man sees you every day—but not like this. He finally turns from you, mumbling that he ought to freshen up. You sigh softly once he’s moved behind the partition, scooching closer to the fire and letting your legs stick out straight, warming your feet with the heat coming from the hearth. You wiggle your numbed and chilled toes, resting back on your hands as you listen to Bond disrobe, then the babbling sound of cloth being pressed into water, wrung out, and, presumably, scrubbed across his body. 

What must he look like? You can only imagine—and you have imagined before. Seeing him at the tournament had only bolstered what you thought his body must look like, the expanse of muscle. Would there be a scar, or two? All accumulated before his squireship? Some during his knighthood, surely. 

When Bond rounds the partition, pink-cheeked from his vigorous washing, he seems surprised. 

“...Have you not eaten?”

You shake your head a little, pushing yourself to sit up straight. 

“I was waiting for you.” 

He seems even more stunned by the prospect, but he lowers himself to sit on the other side of the plates, and the pitcher of ale that had been brought up with the food. The taste is far sharper than the wine that you’re used to, and you just manage to stave off a wince. It warms you right through as well as the fire, and you take two deep swigs. You hear a soft huff, a warning of, 

“Perhaps you ought to slow, ma’am. You’ve had nothing to eat.” 

You grunt softly, setting the glass aside and using the long sleeve of the tunic to swipe at your messy mouth. The food isn’t much, but it is delicious. It’s nearly enough to fill you—and would be if there was only one of you there. Bond eats with less ravenous hunger than you do. Perhaps he’s less hungry; perhaps he’s doing his best to oblige you for the sake of how trying your day has been. Regardless, when you’ve finished, you lean back against the wall behind you. You point your toes again, wiggling and watching them as fatigue begins to creep up in the place of hunger. 

“...I will get you home safely.” 

Sir James offers it without provocation, and you wonder if your face has belied some concern, some confusion. You glance up toward him and find you watching him closely. 

“I am sure of it,” You nod. 

“And I am certain the king is well.” 

You laugh bitterly, then. You can’t help the way it falls from your mouth, or force it away again in the twist of his confusion. 

“I am sure,” You agree dryly. “I am sure he is well. God save him. God save the noble king.” 

If Blofeld were there, he would order your head struck from your shoulders. If Bond relayed your words, you were certain you would face the gallows. But now, with your belly fool and your head swimming slightly from panic and ale, you can’t bring yourself to care. You take your tankard up again, wincing at the scent that rises from it, the low slosh of liquid. 

“You shouldn’t have given that man your wedding ring,” Bond chides. 

“He told them to take me,” You tell him. “When those…Men,” You spit it, “Came to the carriage, the King told them to—” Your breath hitches in your throat, hand tightening around the tankard further. You raise it and swallow roughly as tears prickle your eyes. You set it aside once it’s empty, sniffling as the tears rise further. For all of his cruelty, Blofeld’s blatant disregard for your life was a step too far. How were you to know whether or not he’d set the attack himself? You’d always feared that he’d grown tired of you, your charms. 

You hardly registered the shift of Bond’s shadow until he’s standing over you.

“Are you still cold?” He asks softly. You nod, and Bond holds his hand out to you. You take it, allowing him to tug you to stand. You wobble a little, stilling only when his other hand rests on your hip to steady you. He tows you to the bed, and you let him push the covers back and nod you in. You scooch down against the mattress, pouting at the feeling of the odd piece of straw poking through. You watch as Bond turns his back, settling down on the wool rug again. You push yourself up onto your elbows, frowning. 

“Where will you sleep?”

He turns to look at you, brows furrowing a touch. 

“Here.” He gestures to the rug. 

“But,” You shake your head, “You’ll freeze.” 

“We’ve a fire.” 

“We’ll take turns.” 

“Ma’am.” 

“We will.” You use your most imperious tone, but he doesn’t so much as blink. 

“You need rest,” He insists. 

“As do you. If you fall ill…” You consider for a moment. You know this man, a little. You think you know what may spur him to action. You force a slight pout, urging: 

“What will I do without my protector?” 

Darkness flashes across Bond’s gaze. It’s another moment before he pushes himself up again, walking around to the other side of the bed. He pushes the covers back, carefully lowering himself to the other side of the bed and tugging the sheets up around the two of you. You glance over toward him and find him stalwartly watching the ceiling. You hesitate before you finally scooch a little closer. His gaze skates sharply toward you, and you bite your lip to silence your panic. 

“I’m still cold,” You mumble. Bond is quiet for a moment before he rolls onto his side, shifting closer. 

“Give me your hands,” He urges softly. You roll onto your side as well, holding your hands up from beneath the covers. Bond cups them, drawing them close and puffing his hot breath against them. Your fingers twitch in his gentle grasp, and you shiver softly as his lips brush against your fingertips. You well up your courage, your want, your sorrow, and turn an index finger toward his lips, pressing it gently there. It’s a moment before he presses a tender kiss to it. You gently draw it back as if moving too fast will startle him, turning your finger toward yourself and pressing a kiss to it in turn. Bond’s gaze drops covetously to your lips, his own parted as his grip tightens on your other hand. You shift a touch closer, brushing the tip of your nose to his. His eyes hold steady on your lips, even with you this close. 

“Your majesty,” He warns softly. 

“Sir James—” 

“We ought not to—” 

“Please.” 

Your plea seems to shock him. Perhaps he’s never heard a queen beg. Perhaps he can’t imagine her needing to. Perhaps what spurs him is his oath of fealty, to serve at your pleasure. Before you have any further time to question his motives, he dives in, pressing his mouth to yours. 

There’s far more heat to the embrace than you’ve ever felt with Blofeld, and it’s hardly more than a kiss. But James’ jaw grasps warmly at your cheek, holding you steady as he spears his tongue between your lips. You whimper softly, raising your free hand to slip into his hair and keep him close. He draws away with a slick sound, and before you can whimper or whine, he pushes you onto his back, covering your body with his own. You splay your thighs for him, whimpering as his warm, solid body settles over you. Your fingers grapple with the fabric of his tunic, nails catching in the odd snag. James kisses you with an almost ravenous force, as if there’s some great fire in him that only your lips can quench. 

James’ hips rock down against yours, and you quiver at the feeling of him hardening against your thigh. It’s not a sensation that you’re unfamiliar with, but you’ve never thrilled in the sensation in quite this way before. You tip your hips up toward him, letting out a pleading moan as your cunt throbs. 

You expect it to be perfunctory, and you’re resigned to it. For all of Bond’s passionate kisses, you’re content with a handful of quick thrusts before settling into sleep and silence. But Bond pushes the fabric of your tunic up, drawing it over your head and off. You lick your lips as his kisses skim over your neck, brushing along your clavicle, then drifting over the swell of your breast. You suck in a soft, stunned breath as his tongue swipes out, swirling around one of your pebbling nipples before toying it tenderly between his lips. You bite your lip, desperate to stifle your moan as his thigh presses against your core. You don't know what possesses you, but your hips seem to roll on instinct, chasing the tantalizing pressure. Some part of you brushes against the muscle of his thigh, and your hips give a jolt of their own volition. 

The sensation that ripples through you knocks loose an embarrassing moan. Bond’s smile goes rakish and wide, his hands and lips tenderly smoothing their way down your body. You’re dismayed as he draws his knee away, certain that your time together is nearing an end. But rather than spear into you as you expect, he pushes your thighs wide. You bite your lip as his finger trails gently over your slick, aching skin before you feel the tender brush of wet heat. You jump in shock, but Bond’s arm keeps your hips pinned to the bed as he gives your cunt another tender lick. Your body goes hot as you catch sight of his darkening eyes peering up at you in the dim light of the room. You push out a shaky breath, your hips giving an exploratory tip toward him. His eyelids flutter as he laves his tongue along your plumping lips. You slide your hands down over his head, chasing your stunned pleasure. Your mouth parts as you pant, as Bond laps and licks and teases you with his fingers and tongue. 

For every tumble into your marriage bed, you’ve never felt yourself come alive like this before. You’d been a virgin when you met Blofeld, and have only ever been with him. For the scant whispers that have made their way back to you in court, you’ve never heard that Blofeld has any additional vigor or passion with the other ladies at court. You’ve just assumed that that is what the act of lovemaking was: quick, simple, and unenjoyable. 

You’ve never been so happy to be so wrong. 

When James hikes your leg up around his hip and eases into you, your mouth drops open in a wail. He claps his hand down over your mouth, shushing you softly. His already-bright eyes are brighter still with mirth; his lips and chin are slick from his lapping and teasing; color is rising in his cheeks. 

“You don’t want them to know what we’re doing in here, do you?” He murmurs. “If they should learn whose ring that is, who you are…” He rolls his hips, “It’ll be both our heads.” 

You nod slightly in agreement, cunt throbbing as his hips begin to drive more roughly. Your mouth drops, and you pant hotly against the broad stretch of his palm. The odd whimper and whine still slip from your lips as James fucks you with an almost leisurely pace. You’re used to a shove, a harsh pounding, a spill—but James lowers his hands and strokes reverently over your body, loving you with an unhurried pace, as if he has all the time in the world. 

– 

Waking is slow going. You immediately feel that something is…wrong. Your bed isn’t nearly as soft as it normally is; you can hear the calls of voices below, bellows for breakfast, and hot water, and for someone’s horse to be brought. You draw in a deep breath, shifting and wincing as a piece of hay jabs at your back. You still as you feel someone’s foot brush yours, then draw in a quiet breath as you feel James’ lips brush your shoulder. You turn your head to find him still blinking the sleep from his eyes. You raise your hand, gently stroking over his cheek. He smiles softly, tipping his head toward you and pressing another kiss to your skin. You let your hand slide down from his cheek before you roll onto your side. James’ smile drops away for a moment as you nudge his shoulder, urging him on to his back. It blooms again as you slide your leg over him, straddling his thighs. You let your gaze drift openly down his chest, trailing your fingers over fading scars and raised scratches from yesterday’s fight. You bow over him, nuzzling into his neck as his hands smooth over your back. 

“How did you sleep?” He murmurs. You have to fight away a shiver at the sound of his voice, so much deeper than you’re used to hearing. 

“Well enough.” You brush your cheek against his, drawing in the still-lingering scent of the soap that he’d used the night before. 

“We’ll need to leave soon,” He warns. You don’t let him see you pout; you just hum your agreement as you tenderly draw his earlobe between your teeth, giving it a tug. You feel James’ hips twitch beneath you, and a little thrill curls in your stomach as James’ hands smooth over your thighs. Your body is a touch sore, but you know well enough that it’s a result from your stumbling through the woods as quickly as you could the day prior, and not from your night with your knight. You smile as James tips your head to the side, his nose nudging gently against yours before he catches your lips with his. You let out a happy little sigh, shifting atop him. Your cunt throbs as the apex of your thighs brushes against his muscled stomach. James’ hands raise to cup your cheeks, loosing a soft, encouraging hum as you begin to roll your hips down against him. 

Your night of tender care has brought out a boldness in you that you’ve tempered for a long time. James urges you on, his hands closing around your hips and guiding your aimless grinding. He eases you back after a few moment, your plumping cunt catching against your opening. 

You don’t need convincing, and he doesn’t need urging.

--  

You’d clung to him as long as you were able, but your grip had grown slack as the castle had come into view. Sir James had lowered his hand, resting it gently atop yours. 

“What do you say if he should ask where your wedding ring went?” 

“I lost it in the woods,” You mumble obediently. 

“And where we were?” 

“It was dark, and I can’t remember.” 

“Good girl.” 

You press your face into his neck, grip tightening around him again. 

“And if he should ask if you took care of me?” You murmur. James gives your hand a soft squeeze. 

“That answer is at your discretion.” 

--  

He isn’t happy that you’re alive. 

Blofeld manages to feign relief for a few seconds, but it quickly drops away, leaving behind an apparent disdain, one that you wouldn’t know if you hadn’t known him for so long. But you throw yourself at his feet, and sob, and swear that your only thought for days has been for his safety. 

Blofeld insists on staying with you on your first night back, but he hardly touches you. It’s not for a lack of trying. You force yourself to curl up to him, to rest your forehead against his shoulder and grasp his hand, dropping kisses to his skin and pressing as close as you dare. It’s a relief that he doesn’t take as he likes, knowing that Sir James is just on the other side of the door. 

--  

He’s been your shadow for so long, but he sticks even closer now. James is hardly a step or two away from you these days, close enough that you can feel the heat of him bleeding through his armor as he lingers behind you. 

Your bed is no longer cold in the evening, and James’ stool sits unattended. His body covers yours, his cock sheathed in your loving cunt as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your muscles, silencing your moans and whimpers. 

You’ve never known what it was to be cuddled and held through the night, to wake up day after day with the press of lips to your forehead, a murmur of, “I must go,” and, “I shall see you soon.” He’s always at your side, in your bed, in your arms. Sir James gives you the constancy that you were meant to expect from your husband. It occurs to you that you are breaking your marriage covenant, that your actions may lead to trouble, to Hell. 

But as you peer up into James’ eyes, and tenderly swipe the beads of sweat from his forehead as his cock softens inside you, you realize that you’ll take your steps into the underworld happily. 

He begins to openly slight other women. Lady Vesper makes her advances. She flirts in the dining hall, and makes eyes as she sits with you and your other ladies maids. You can’t help but glance toward Sir James as she does, as she bats her eyelashes and pushes out her chest. They’re valiant attempts for a valiant man, but Sir James keeps his gaze focused ahead of himself, hardly flinching, not even bothering to give her a wink. It makes your smile widen villainously as you lean back in your seat, raising your book to cover your grinning face. 

--  

“They want you, you know,” You murmur. James shifts his head questioningly on the pillows, tipping his head to the side as you ghost your lips over his strong chest. 

“My ladies,” You clarify, waggling your brows. He smiles a touch, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. 

“I haven’t noticed.” 

“Oh, no? It’s been difficult for me not to notice,” You argue. 

“I’ve no interest.” 

“None?” 

James grasps your jaw gently, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes bore warmly into yours, mischief and affection sparkling in his gaze. 

“Whose bed am I in now?” 

Your skin heats at the reminder. 

“Mine,” You murmur. 

“And you think I care for anyone else’s affection?” 

“Your king’s?” 

James gives you a shove that catches you off-guard. You land on your back, sucking in a gasp as he grasps your thigh and tugs you closer. You lay flat and open beneath him, heart pounding in your chest. 

“I have no king,” He swears. “Only you.” 

-- 

It’s Eve to notice it first, and it’s no great shock. You don’t think of it at first—you have other things on your mind. Your body is constantly aching; you’re so satisfied that you simply don’t think of it. 

But after two weeks—after she grasps your arm upon your waking and asks if your courses have stopped—your heart plummets. 

You don’t call for a doctor. You think that perhaps you’re merely late. But you know, deep down, that that simply can’t be it. You haven’t been with your husband in months, not since your birthday—not since you tried and failed to entice him on your return. There’s no doubt of whose it is. 

--  

James groans, shoving your hips more harshly against the castle wall as his hips push more insistently against you. You’ve taken your leave early from a banquet, pleaded your shadow to follow you into an alcove so that you might have a chance to talk, unable to wait until you reach your bed chamber. 

A child. 

His hands had grasped and tugged at your skirts, spreading you wide in the darkness and pressing into you as if he can give you another just now. You press your face into his neck, muffling your moans. 

“I have nothing but you,” He growls, sliding his hand down to smooth over your belly, “We have nothing but this.” 

-- 

“It isn’t safe for us here.” 

He murmurs it against your hair as he smooths his hand up your bare back. You consider for a moment, fingers trailing over his shoulder as sunlight begins to creep into the room. 

“Where could we go?” 

“France.” 

You frown, tipping your chin up to get a better look at him. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling as he adds, “Blofeld only has enemies there. We are to become traitors to the crown.” 

“We are already traitors to the crown.” 

James hums in soft concession, and you let your eyes slide closed. 

“When would we leave?” You mumble. 

“As soon as we possibly can ” 

“And how?” 

“You leave it to me.” 

“But James—” 

He looks down, running his thumb over your lower lip and silencing you. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his thumb. 

“Of course I do.” 

His smile widens as he ducks in for a gentle kiss. 

“Then you leave it to me.” 

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ;

[megamindsecretlair]

Wedding Night

Cross posted from @megamindslair

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is smut! Fingering and oral (reader receiving), p in v sex. Apologies in advance if I offend anyone.

Summary: While you are no strangers to each other, you had just gotten married and are enjoying your first night of wedded bliss.

Word Count: 2,791k

A/N: Decided to stop being a little punk and posted this. This was purely fun for me and I don't see myself stopping. Be gentle with me LOL. While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging and commenting to support writers!

You stared out of the nearly floor to ceiling window, looking down at the expanse of Asgard. The sun dipped low in the sky as it was approaching nightfall. Asgard at twilight was about as close to perfection one could get. 

The towering spires reached towards the heavens. Lights began to wink into existence one at a time as people settled in for the night or ramped up their activities for the evening. In the distance, the rainbow bridge shined in a multitude of colors. Ships were hauling into the bays for the end of shift.

Heat pressed into your back. A hand snaked around your curvy waist and pulled you against a wall of solid muscle. “Nervous, wife?” 

Loki’s rumbling timbre sent shivers down your spine. How was it that you’d known this man all your life and were still amazed by the simple sound of his voice? 

His lips kissed the back of your head and then he placed his chin on top of your head. He leaned his right arm against the windowsill. The smell of him, all spice and woodsmoke, was intoxicating. Without magic, he was perfectly capable of weaving a spell designed to make your pussy throb with vicious need.

“Not at all. Just wondering if we should close the window. We don’t want everyone to hear how loud you are,” you said. 

Loki’s answering laugh shook him and in turn shook you, since he stood so close. “Careful, you know what happens when you’re naughty,” he whispered in your ear. He lifted the hand that had been around your waist and pulled your hair back from your face. His soft lips kissed a line from your ear to your neck.

“Naughty, you say?” Your voice was breathy. He couldn’t really expect you to have coherent thoughts when his lips were on your skin. He nipped the bit of your neck where it met your shoulder. He hummed and the sound vibrated on your overheated skin.

The breeze from the window did little to dull your excitement. You had been in this chamber, naked, plenty of times. Playing all manners of games and never growing bored by Loki or what wonders your combined magic could create. But tonight was different no matter how many ways you spun it.

His free hand found your left hand and he brought it up to his face. He placed a kiss on top of your wedding band. It was a simple braided, gold band. He had offered to get you something bigger, flashier, or more obnoxious. But this little band was perfect. 

“I thought you liked when I was naughty?” You asked. 

He grabbed your waist and spun you around. His crystal blue eyes bore into yours with a unique passion you hadn’t experienced in anyone else. His chest was bare showing off his muscles and the way they flexed whenever he moved. He wore loose green pants that rode low on his lean hips. His hair was black as midnight, slicked back, and showed off the angles of his face. “Your reward will be far greater if you’re good,” he said.

“Tell me more about these rewards, husband,” you said, trying the title out. And you liked it.

“Oh the rewards are too many to name,” he said. He shook his head playfully. He sank to his knees slowly, maintaining eye contact with you. He licked his lips as he gathered the hem of your blue dress and lifted it enough to sneak his hands underneath.

His fingers kneaded and rubbed your calves and then the back of your knees. You giggled but were honestly too distracted to laugh properly. He made his way to your thighs and you moaned with the contact.

“For example, good girls are worshiped. They are adored,” he said. He placed a kiss over your belly as his hands slid higher, hooking his long, delicate fingers around your panties. He slid them down your thighs. The thin material coasted with ease and you bit your lip to keep from moaning too loud. You were too high to really be in danger of anyone hearing you, but the thought of it still thrilled you.

You held on to him as you lifted one leg out of your panties and then the other. The wind from the window blew his hair around his shoulders. He was so painfully beautiful. The way he was on his knees at your feet nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

But then his hands went higher, grabbing your round ass and squeezing hard. Squeaks and squeals escaped you as his fingers found all your pressure points. Your hands twisted in his hair as you lightly scratched at his scalp. He hummed in pleasure and tilted his head to rub against your arm.

He rose, your dress riding up higher and higher until it gathered at your waist. Were someone to look up, they’d get a generous view of your ass. Loki leaned down and placed a kiss at your check.

“On the bed. Now.” The gravel in his voice slid along your nerves in the most delightful way possible.

You swung your hips as you drifted over to his massive bed. Truly, it was huge. And it still managed to look tiny in his bedroom. The floor was dark stone and heated by the fireplace burning brightly. There were couches and a table arranged in front of it. On either side of the fireplace, entirely too close for comfort, there were floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with hundreds of books.

Besides the entrance, there were two other doors leading to his walk-in closet (he was a diva after all) and the bathroom. Well, you ought to stop saying “his” things. This room was technically yours as well after the grandiose wedding that was only a few hours ago.

You gather up the dress and place a knee onto the bed. It sank beneath your weight. Being in this bed was like laying on a cloud. You placed the other knee on the bed and then fell forward on all fours, crawling to the middle of the bed. The weight of his gaze excited you, making you clench painfully. 

Once in the middle, you flipped over. Loki stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at you. His pants tented with the evidence of his erection. He idly rubbed it as he took in your prone figure. 

Slowly, you dragged your dress higher until the hem reached past your hips. You exposed yourself to him. He groaned as you opened your legs and let him see all of you. 

The breeze from outside battled the heat from inside and flowed over your pussy, alerting you to just how wet you were for him. He waved a hand and the ceiling disappeared, replaced with thousands of stars. 

You gasped. “Loki,” you said. He said your name reverently. Above you, the stars were both close and so far away. There was a spectrum of colors in an arch above you, moving across the galaxy. 

The bed dipped as Loki climbed into it. “Count the stars and you’ll never come close to how much I feel for you,” he said.

“Loki,” you said. He rendered you speechless. What did someone say to such a perfect confession? 

He grinned but it took on a sinister glint. Before you asked, he leaned down on his elbows and rubbed his nose along your slit, breathing you in. He blew a breath across your pussy and you jumped. You were not expecting that.

“Relax, wife,” he commanded. 

“I am,” you shot back.

He nipped at your thigh. “You’re tense. Shall I stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed. 

He chuckled and finally, finally, used his tongue to nudge your lips apart and drag his tongue from your entrance to your clit. You squealed from the delicious pressure and fisted your hands in his incredibly smooth bedding. 

He paid extra attention to your clit, playing with the little nub and making you squirm. He grabbed your legs and hooked them around his arms. He forced your legs apart.

“These stay open,” he said. 

“Oh gods,” you moan. He chuckled as he returned to lolling his tongue around your clit. The only thing you saw was his dark hair covering the most intimate part of you. His hair flopped down onto your stomach and thighs tickling you with its softness.  Pressure built up inside you with each succulent swipe of his gifted tongue. When he wasn’t so busy being a mischievous little punk, he apparently had other wonderful uses.

Gods, you were close. So close…he stopped and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your thigh, leaving a wet spot behind. Your cheeks burned knowing that evidence of your own arousal was on his mouth. 

He flipped his head back, his hair flipping out of his face. He grinned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You seem to be confused about who's in charge here,” he said. He shook his head as if he were chastising you. He crawled up your body, molding his body next to yours.

His fingers took the place of his mouth, dipping one finger inside you and pumping with abandon. You leaned up, not necessarily because you wanted to get away, but because it felt too fucking good. You were on edge already and his finger kept up a steady rhythm inside you.

He added a finger and you moaned. You slipped your hands into his hair and tugged. He hummed. “That’s my girl,” he groaned. Your legs opened wider of their own accord. You needed more.

The only sounds in the room were your panting and moaning and the wet suction of your arousal around his fingers. You bit your lip as you focused on the pleasure spreading through your body. He used his thumb to rub lazy circles around your clit on every up-slide of his fingers. Then he curled his fingers inside you.

“Loki,” you gasped. You nearly cried as the pressure became too much. The pleasure was too much. Your legs shook as the first wave of your orgasm took over. You pushed at his arm. It was too much.

“Do you want me to stop, wife?” 

You shook your head. You muttered something, but didn’t know what. Unholy sounds left you as your orgasm shook you to your core. He talked you through it, continuing to stroke you as you floated down back to your body.

You cracked open your eyes and were momentarily struck dumb by him. He was half leaning, half sitting up so his head was framed by the illusion of stars he erected. Before, he used his magic for small things. Cheap tricks and cruel pranks. But now, he wove entire illusions that were nearly indistinguishable from real life.

His eyes glowed in the soft light. He was made for the stars. He was an entire galaxy contained in a beautiful man. 

“Do you think I’m done with you?” He asked. 

The excited squeal you uttered should be embarrassing, but he only smiled and withdrew his fingers. You missed them already and poked out your bottom lip. He licked his fingers as he stared at you, dipping one and then both inside his mouth to clean every last drop of your arousal. 

He closed his eyes as he savored it and then glanced back at you. “Delicious,” he whispered.

He leaned down and kissed you. His lips moved expertly over yours, licking your lips so that you’d open for him. You’d deny him nothing as you opened your mouth and tasted yourself on his tongue. He bit your bottom lip and the sharp pain was smoothed over by his tongue.

“Now who’s being naughty,” you said.

“I can’t help it,” he said with a shrug. You sat up in the bed and got on your knees to match his stance. 

You grabbed the band of his pants and tugged hard until his cock sprang free. He helped you disrobe him until he kneeled before you in all his naked glory. 

You placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed until he dropped onto the bed. He arranged himself into a comfortable position, placing one arm around the back of his head. He quirked an eyebrow at you, but you only smiled.

You straddled him, moving your dress out of the way until you were able to slide skin to skin. As you held it, it disappeared in your hands exposing your breasts and belly. A ferocious gleam lit up his eyes as he brought his warm hands up to palm your breasts. He rubbed and squeezed your sensitive nipples between his fingers. 

“I will never grow tired of seeing all of you, feeling all of you,” he said. He pinched one nipple which sent a shot of desire to flood your pussy. 

You leaned up and grabbed his cock, stroking it once and then twice before sinking down onto his generous length. You both moaned at the same time, both reveling in the way he filled you completely. 

Loki bucked his hips, which made you lean forward. Your breasts rubbed against his chest. His hands roamed up and down your back. You kissed him, deeply and passionately. And then you started to move. 

You moved slowly at first, loving the gentle glide of his dick inside you. You couldn’t help the gasps or the whimpers. Loki’s hands grabbed your waist and helped stabilize you as you moved quicker, bobbing up and down on his cock. 

“Oh…oh gods,” he muttered.

You could die a thousand times if it meant you’d hear those sounds coming from his lips just once. His desire only drove yours upward. You leaned back, riding him. You tried to focus on his face, on the dark desire in his eyes, but you felt too good in the moment. 

A tempest was set loose in your veins. Your blood sang with pleasure. Your magic finally unfolded and light shot from every pore on you. 

“That’s it, my darling,” he said. He groaned and bucked his hips, driving deeper into you. Light refracted off of every shiny surface in the room. You tried to direct it, but you were too dizzy with pleasure. You felt wanton and over-joyed. Dating sex was far inferior to married sex.

The light from your magic mingled with Loki’s illusion of the cosmos. Your beams shot into the sky as if they were wayward comets. Your light streaked across the ceiling, flowing in and around the cosmic illusion he created. Your magicks intertwined and you felt him on a physical and cosmic level. It was as if your magicks touched each other’s souls.

Your orgasm rolled over you, heaping waves upon waves of bliss. “Come with me, husband,” you managed to mutter before shaking uncontrollably.

A moment later, Loki joined you. Hot jets of come spilled inside of you as he moaned so loudly, he shook with the effort. His face was contorted somewhere between ecstasy and torture. His eyes were pinched close and his mouth was slightly open on a halted sigh.

You shivered so badly that your teeth chattered. That orgasm was more intense than anything else you had experienced. The light in your veins slowly retreated and thinned until winking out completely. He rubbed your arms, your back, and anywhere else he could get his hands on. He grounded you as you recovered from your orgasm. 

He whispered sweet, loving messages in your ear as he held you close. He called you beautiful and stunning, smart and sweet, he called you the most precious creature in all of existence. You giggled tiredly as he talked silly nonsense in your ear. You focused on the cadence of his words. His words rumbled in his chest and as you laid on top of him, you felt every word.

Reluctantly, he pulled out of you. His come slipped out of you as well and you moaned from the sensation. He conjured a warm wet towel to clean you off. He conjured a new one for himself. 

When done, you snuggled up in his arms. Your head was on his chest and you idly rubbed it, marveling at the way your smooth copper skin contrasted with his pale skin. He rubbed your arms and used his free hand to play with your hair.

Sleep pulled at you but you fought it, not wanting the night to end. 

“Sleep, wife. I’m not yet done with you tonight,” he said. He kissed your forehead. 

You fell asleep with a contented sigh, wonderfully eager to get up and do it all again.

There's more Loki to love! The Secret Loki Files

[menthum-mint]

SORRY TUMBLR PEOPLE

I HAVE BROUGHT GOODS

FEED

FOR YOU HAVE A FEAST NOW

I think

Okay but in all seriousness, i have completed two references and also made more concept designs for some others, heh-

So for now, we look to the references, because up first. The man himself.

Tatiana Darling? Wally Qwartz? Idk. But I can say thay he is hot stu-[BOOING CHORUS]

Up next, Neon Frank and his bot boys!

I will say that the bots do likely have 'human' forms, but I didn't feel too bothered at the time to worry about it, besides, Frank's in the spotlight, who really cares? (Some may and I'm looking at you with understanding eyes)

And now, for the last finished piece I have

Sweethearts, the both of them🥺🥺

Oh how sweet they always are with one another

(Frank threatens to launch himseld into space to follow after Eddie when the protagonist launch him into space... And speaking of the protagonists.. Let's just say [the] (Vinyl) Neighborhood isn't quite the same without You ;) wink wink)

And now for a few concepts!

DJ Howdy Pillar! Just a local radio show host looking to get local bands' voices heard even if they're all starting out small!

Since there is no actual shop in game, and the fact DJ Zam is an actually pretty prominent NPC (plus funny canon voice for Howdy), who else but Howdy for Zam's place? Welcome to Howdy MD people! :)

Now?

Let me just say that B.B. Beagle and Tatiana Darling (still dunno) are still very much good friends, even despite the large age gap. To Wally, it feels like.. It feels like he knows Barnaby, but on a deeper level, like they were old friends somehow, and they were reunited.. His jokes make him laugh as if the man knew exactly what made him tick.

Weird...

Though, dogs are trult man's best friend

And one more design (which is definitely very subject to change [to make look softer and more accurate to a youngling])

Poppy!

Now, I still have yet to truly figure out what is going on, but I will say Poppy is definitely very much the youngest in this AU, and unlike in most other places, she is not the mother figure, she is loved ever so gently by the rest (shown by the way Frank loathes your name for having destroyed her piano. The way it tears are the heart strings of onlookers to see her precious instrument shatter, the shards scattered wildly upon the floor of the stage.

How cruel of you. She's only 9..

Bonus obligatory Howdy Bean based off of Cofi's lil beans🥺🥺 I had to, it was legally required by law or else I'd be sniped on sight

But anyhow, I suppose this concludes the update. I'm not entirely sure if I can even explain more or if I even have more of an idea to explain, but if there are any questions, by all means send in an Ask and I'll try to answer them all without giving too much away until I can truly get things going. ;)))

See you :0!

And sorry again for no update in forever.😭😭😭

[fadedncity]

wc: 5.2k

pairing: hunter!haechan x hunter!reader

cw: supernatural!au, smut, fem!reader, ex friends/fwb to enemies to fwb again, angst, sex pollen, dubcon(?), weapons, violence, gore, character death (non mcs), masturbation (reader receiving), alcohol consumption, fingering, teasing, pet names, unprotected sex

song rec: hypnotic by zella day | if you let me by sinedad harnett | love me up by etta bond | crave by tove lo

"You want me to what?!"

"Come on, there are worse things," Taeyong tried talking you down.

"I'd rather Lilith drag me to hell herself."

"Okay, now you're just being dramatic. Haechan's not that bad."

"Oh, no, he's just an annoying, pompous asshole."

"I-" before he could get in another word, you cut him off.

"Why can't you just send Sungchan? He's one of the newbies. The experience will be good for him anyway."

"I sent him and Shotaro to Oregon with Yuta to take care of a crossroads demon."

"Jaehyun?"

"Vampire nest in France with Jeno."

"Renjun?"

"Shapeshifter in Morocco."

"Kun?"

"On vacation," Taeyong sighed. "Look, you two are some of the best hunters I know, and I really need you on this case. Both of you."

You knew you couldn't keep standing here bitching over this when the real problem was still at large. People were still getting hurt, and you couldn't let your feelings of anguish toward him get in the way of your job.

You rolled your eyes before sighing, "When do we leave?"

"Been waiting on you."

Looking over your shoulder, you glare at the man standing in the doorway of the room designated to be Taeyong's office. Haechan smirked at you before winking. You scoff, turning back to Taeyong. 

"You're gonna owe me," you tell him. 

"Wouldn't have asked if I wasn't expecting to," he handed you the file, "Safe trip, you two," Taeyong smiled.

"We're leaving in fifteen," you told Haechan, "And we're taking my car."

Haechan held up his hands like he wasn't gonna argue with you about that, which was surprising, but you quickly brushed past it and Haechan out of the room.

"Haechan." Taeyong called him before he left, "Please don't kill each other and make it back in one piece."

"No promises," Haechan said before leaving. 

. . .

The first hour was filled with tense silence between the two of you. Every time Haechan tried to start a conversation, you would shut him down, not wanting to hear anything he had to say.

It wasn't until he picked up the file from Taeyong sitting on your dashboard did you finally let him get some words in since he was actually saying something helpful. 

"Says there have been four victims in the last five weeks."

"All the same motive?" 

"Yeah, all four of them were drained of their blood. Completely."

"Vampires?"

"No teeth marks were found. So, it's no looking likely."

"Any connection between the victims?" 

"No, not that I can tell. Aside from living in the same area code, none of these people had anything in common."

"Great, this makes our job much easier. What about a vengeful spirit? Or demon?"

"Could be. But can't say for sure until we get there."

Haechan closed the file and threw it into the backseat.

He sunk into the passenger's seat, about to change the song playing on the radio before you slapped his hand away.

"My car, my music."

Haechan sucked his teeth, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine. I was gonna try to take a nap anyway."

"Whatever gets you to stop talking."

Glaring over at you one last time, Haechan shifts in the passenger's seat, turning his back to you and shutting his eyes.

Hours have passed, and you've been driving on the dark road with no cars ahead or behind you for miles now. The only thing accompanying you in the darkness was the low hum of music coming from the speakers and Haechan's soft snores. 

It didn't even register you had been driving for so long until you started seeing the sun rising from behind the horizon.

Haechan woke up with a stiff neck to find the car at a stop, and you were no longer inside with him. Taking in his surroundings, Haechan realized you had stopped for gas. 

You were so spaced out you almost didn't hear him getting out of the car, the slamming of the door bringing your attention to him. 

You looked over at the Gemini, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. 

"How much longer do we have to go?" Haechan asks.

"Three more hours."

"Okay, you should let me drive," He tells you. 

"No-"

"You've been driving all night. It won't do any good if you fall asleep at the wheel and kill us before we can even get there."

He's right. It irks you, having to admit he's right.

You took the pump out of the tank once it was filled and closed the hatch.

You held out your keys, Haechan ready to take them, but you retracted your hand before he could. 

"Be gentle with her. This is my baby."

"Baby," he scoffs, "You know I can be gentle when I wanna be," he says, taking your keys and getting into the driver's side.

You were blaming your lack of sleep on the way his words had an effect on you.

You shook the thoughts away and got back into the car, your eyes shutting almost instantly before Haechan could even pull out of the gas station.

. . .

"Oh, you gotta be fucking with me."

Now, this was an upgrade from your usual shitty motels. There was a couch a full bathroom, a minibar, and a queen-sized bed. One queen-sized bed.

And you have no doubt in mind who was probably responsible for this.

"I'm gonna fucking kill Johnny," you mutter.

"Get in line."

You were expecting to have to flip a coin or something.

"You can take the bed. I'll be fine with the couch," Haechan says, settling his things down.

"Suit yourself," you said happily dropping your things and heading towards the bed practically calling your name.

"I'm gonna shower. Then we can head over to the coroner's office?"

"Fine with me. Wake me if I'm not up in an hour." you say resting your head on the pillow.

The bathroom door closed, and you got comfortable on the bed. It wasn't the most comfortable mattress, the bed springs digging into your back, but you've had worse, so you weren't gonna complain. The sound of the water running was the last thing you remember hearing before your eyes fluttered shut, and you drifted off to sleep again. 

. . . 

You walked out of the morgue, thoroughly annoyed. And feeling Haechan's unbothered presence was pissing you off even more. 

Bad enough that Mark thought it would be a funny enough fucking joke to give you fake badges with the same last name, leading the coroner to assume you were married. And instead of correcting her, Haechan thought it would also be funny to play along and act as if you were.

So while you were actually working, examining the bodies, and trying to figure out what was responsible for the deaths of those four people, Haechan was talking up your fake five-year marriage on the spot with the coroner. You know he's good at this part of the job, but there's no reason for him to be this good. 

Haechan loosens his tie walking in tow with you back to your car after you finish your questioning. 

"See, that wasn't so bad," Haechan says, and you roll your eyes at him. "Alright, when are you gonna pop this hate boner you have for me?" he asks. 

You scoff, "Whenever that big ass ego of yours deflates." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Like you don't fucking know," you mutter. 

"Yeah, I fucking don't. So why don't you stop acting like a pouty little brat and just tell me."

You didn't say anything, and Haechan sighed. 

"I thought you said you weren't mad about that."

"I'm not but that doesn't mean I have to like you after you did it." 

"It was two years ago!" 

"And it was fucked up. But it's funny enough you keep showing up whenever you think I'm in need of saving."

"Need I remind you I am the one who quite literally saved you from being that werewolf's late night snack?"

You grumble at him under your breath, walking away. 

He tries to keep up with your steps, following you to the car.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said, and you finally stopped, "For everything. I didn't mean to shut you out. I was just...scared," he admits 

"Of what? I thought we were both very clear about where we stood."

"And I still cared about you. You know what it's like getting close to something in this line of work," Haechan tells you, "And I wasn't just gonna let you die for the sake of your own ego. You're too good of a hunter for us to lose." 

You didn't even think you still held this much anger towards him until now. You didn't want to anymore, seemingly taking this long to get over it. And it would make this job a lot less painful if you weren't stuck thinking about the past. 

"Don't try to flatter me now, Donghyuck." You say, a phantom smirk playing on your lips. "You're still an annoying, pompous asshole," you say.

Haechan snickers, putting his hands in his pockets and walking up to you. 

"And you're a heartless, whiny little brat," he smirked at your offended expression. He then stepped back and asked, "Wanna grab breakfast?" quickly changing the subject.

"You really wanna eat now?"

"Can't work on an empty stomach," Haechan says, "I'll buy," he offers. 

"Fine. But, after, we're going to the crime scenes." 

"Yes, Mrs," Haechan teases, laughing when you shoot him another death glare. 

. . . 

"You okay?" Haechan asks as he enters the run-down house.

"Yeah," you shake the unsettling feeling and follow in behind him, "We're getting close."

"But we still have time. We just need to find her heart and kill her. Simple."  

Yeah, simple. 

The one thing you hate about witches is how difficult they make it to hunt them. Using glamour spells to appear as whoever they want or hexing five random people as a part of some ritualistic sacrifice trying to raise something much more malicious back from the dead. They're always unpredictable. 

"I'll check upstairs," you tell him. 

Haechan nods, heading towards the living room to check the first floor, "Hey, Haechan."

"Yeah?" he turns around.

"Don't be stupid and get yourself killed," you say.

He nods again with a smirk, "You too." 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you held up your shotgun as you crept down the halls, carefully checking every room you passed. The floorboards croaked under your weight with each step you took. 

It was deathly silent; your ears started to ring. You couldn't even hear Haechan downstairs as you reached the end of the hallway.

You pushed the last door open with the barrel of your gun and started looking around. Different plants and herbs were scattered all over the room, and you made sure to stay a safe distance away, not sure what some of them were.

When you found the room was clear, you lowered your weapon and looked around, finding a book that you could only assume was her grimoire, opened to a page.

Careful flipping through the pages, you find the ritual she was trying to perform, only needing a few more things, including one last victim, before it's complete.

Supplies and ingredients were laid out all over the table, most of the things looking unfamiliar since she was using an older method of magic. 

Among the items, a box unlocked. The box holding the witch's heart.

"Now, who's the heartless one," you mumble.

"That one's still up for debate," the voice sent a chill down your spine.

You turn around, aiming your gun, but it's too late.

In her true form, thin skin stretched across the witch's face, baring rotting teeth. You could barely see anything else as she wore a tattered black cloak, the hood covering most of her face. 

She grabbed the barrel with long bony fingers, making you miss your shot, and shot the wall behind her instead. Before you could reload, she held out her hand, blowing the contents sitting in her palm in your face.

A floral scent invaded your senses, and your nose felt tingly as you inhaled whatever powder she possessed.

You heard the sound of Haechan calling your name, his footsteps rushing to your location as your body hit the floor.

"You both have been very entertaining to watch. You looking at him when he's not paying attention, and him looking at you once you turn away. Ugh! it's just someing about the secret pining that gets me everytime. So beautiful yet…so painful," the witch looks off dramatically into the distance, "But don't worry now, child. I have freed you of your misery." she speaks, smiling widely.

Before Haechan could get a shot, she moved faster than you'd expect, and she's a lot stronger than you's think for a few centuries-old witch. 

"Haechan," you weakly called his name.

He was quickly disarmed and he couldn't seem to be able to move.

"Ah, I get what all the fuss is about. He's even cuter up close. I might save him for myself," the witch wickedly grinned, "You'd make a perfect vessel," she caressed Haechan's face.

Her skeletal fingers wrapped around Haechan's throat, squeezing his airway. 

Using all the strength you could muster, you reached for the box with her heart. She fell to the ground, weakly crawling toward you to try and stop you as the shard of glass in your hand pierced through the rotted tissue. She cursed at you as she wailed out in agony.  

"You'd do it too, for love," was the last thing she said before burning to ashes. 

"Call us even now," you teased Haechan before you toppled in pain.

"You okay?" Haechan rushes to your side.

"No, something's very wrong. It hurts," you whine.

"What? Where?"

"Everywhere. I don't know what the fuck she did to me."

"Okay. We gotta get you outta here," Haechan slung your arm around his neck, helping you to your feet.

You clung onto Haechan, stumbling over your feet, leaving the house with Haechan's arm around you, keeping you upright. 

You squirmed in the passenger's seat, the pain getting even worse.  

"Haechan, I can't. Everthing fucking hurts," you cry. 

Haechan's knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped the wheel, applying more pressure to the gas, rushing back to your hotel. 

You felt like you were burning inside out while simultaneously being stabbed. Yet you were thinking about how hot Haechan looked. Maybe the end is near.

Haechan's face was set in a hard line, his jaw clenched as he did about 30 over the speed limit. You found your eyes drifting over to him, distracting yourself for a moment. Haechan's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his arms rippling under his skin as he held onto the steering wheel. From the dark brown strands falling over his eyes to the jeans hugging his thighs so deliciously you couldn't resist the urge to press your thighs together. 

Your pain subsided for only a second before you shook those thoughts from your head, and your nerves returned to screaming in agony. 

Haechan could care less about how badly he parked the car before running over to your side and helping you out of the car, rushing you into the hotel. Thankfully it was late, and no one was in the lobby other than the receptionist you slipped past without detection. 

The moment you entered your room, you pushed Haechan away and locked yourself in the bathroom. You were taking a cold shower to bring your temperature back down, but you couldn't shake the thoughts of Haechan out of your mind. How good he smelled, how his body felt against yours with you tucked into his side, the genuine concern he showed for you-

You didn't even realize you had your hand between your thighs until you finally felt relief, stroking your clit. You bit your lip, trying to conceal any moans threatening to spill out of your lips. You desperately rubbed your clit, feeling the strongest need for release right now. 

Your eyes were closed, and all you envisioned behind closed eyelids were Haechan. His face, his voice—everything was overwhelming.

You were already so close to cumming, as you thought of Haechan's fingers instead of your own. 

You scraped your nails down the tiled walls, that knot inside you so close to breaking. Until you heard a knock on the door. 

"You okay in there?" Haechan asks from the other side. 

You snap out of it, opening your eyes as guilt and pain washed over you.

You cleared your throat, "Yeah. I'll be out in a second," you yelled to him.

The shower only helped temporarily. You were lying on the bed, half-naked, a thin layer of sweat covering your entire body.  

You tried to wait for Haechan to come back after getting off the phone and hopefully with a solution to this. You were exhausted but still in too much pain to even try sleeping.

Your body jolted, alert once again, hearing the door slamming. 

"Haechan?" 

He didn't hear you calling his name as he flipped through the pages of the witch's grimoire you snagged from the house before leaving. Once Haechan stopped turning through the book, his eyes bounced around the page, reading whatever was written.

"Haechan?" you call him again. 

He tore his eyes away from the page and met your gaze. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

For once, it seemed Haechan was at a loss for words. And his silence was beginning to scare you.

"Haechan, please just tell me," you pleaded.

He sighs, "If it's what Jaemin think's it is, it was phoenix's blossom she hit you with. It's pretty high grade and usually associated with spells of desire." 

You thought this information would've clarified at least a few things, but you were more confused, leaving you with even more questions than answers. 

"Okay, then why the hell does it feel like I'm dying?" 

"The neglect of the heart's desires will ignite the eternal fires from within. Scorching the soul along with it," he read from the pages. 

Fuck me. 

You manage to roll out of bed and over to the minibar, pouring yourself a shot of whiskey.

If you're going to die before you're 30, you're going to at least have one last drink if it really is the end. 

It was like you could feel Haechan's eyes on you as you poured another drink, the alcohol not being enough to eliminate your pain but numb it enough that it became bearable for you. 

You didn't even notice Haechan had moved until he was standing next to you, pouring himself a drink.

He didn't say anything, just sipping on the amber liquid, carefully watching you. He looked at you blankly, and you couldn't tell what he was thinking. You were only starting to focus on how much prettier he looks up close. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you ask him, annoyed with the wordless staring. 

"What are you thinking?"

You scoff before downing the rest of your drink without as much as a wince, "What am I thinking? How pissed I am some old hag got the jump on me like this. How I'm gonna haunt Taeyong's ass from beyond the grave. How I'm never getting those twenty bucks Chenle still owes me." you half-joked. 

The feeling of Haechan's fingers reaching out for your hand made you finally meet his eyes. 

You sighed, "How angry it makes me to look at your face sometimes. How bad I wish things didn't get so fucked up because you were still my friend," you didn't notice he was slowly pulling you closer, "And how badly I miss the way you used to touch me." 

He cupped your face, staring into your eyes.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Why should I?"

"Cause I'm tired of looking at your stupid face," you didn't try too hard to push him away. 

Your skin burns under his touch when Haechan grabs your waist, "Ah. Was this the same stupid face you were thinking about when you were trying to get off in the shower?" 

Haechan teased you when embarrassment took over your face.

"You think I don't remember what you sound like even when you so desperately try to keep quiet."

Haechan cups your jaw, bringing your face closer.

"You don't think I miss the pretty noises you'd make for me." 

You could feel the flood of arousal throughout your body, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

Haechan's eyes are dark, and when you bring your hand to his cheek, you feel how warm his skin is compared to yours. 

"Haechan, you're-"

"I know," was all Haechan said. 

The residue of the phoenix's blossom on his clothes was evidence enough. 

"This shit feels like poison coursing through my veins. And it is unbearably fucking hot in here. But I can't seem to pull myself away for you," Haechan pulled you flush against him.

"I wanna hear you say it," you stop him with your finger on his lips. 

"I want you so bad, it's killing me," he said light-heartedly.

With that, your lips were on his. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, weaving your fingers in his hair. You moaned into his mouth when he pressed your body into the bar behind you. 

You swipe your tongue along the seam of his lips, tangling with his before fighting for dominance. Haechan's hands were all over your body. He cupped your breasts over your bra, softly rubbing your sensitive nipples through the material, making you moan against his lips. You push the both of you away from the bar, Haechan blindly leading you to the bed. 

His legs hit the bed, and you push him down onto the springy mattress, climbing on top of him. Haechan's hands guided your hips, grinding into his cock, your shorts, and his jeans being the only thing between you. His hands kneaded your ass firmly as you dragged your hips against his. 

"Hyuck," you breathe his name. Haechan groans, even more blood rushing to his dick from the way his name sounded rolling off your tongue. 

You started pulling on Haechan's shirt until you got it over his head and off his body, now lying on the floor. You trail your lips down his jaw, nipping his skin between his teeth, leaving openmouthed kisses on the side of his neck. Haechan slid his hand over the curve of your ass, sliding up your back, reaching for the clasp on your bra. He couldn't keep his hands off you. Haechan flipped you onto your back before he slipped one of your nipples into his mouth, flicking the perky bud with the tip of his tongue. You arch into Haechan's touch, his saliva covering your areola as he gives the same attention to the opposite one.

Haechan starts kissing down your body. He sinks his teeth into your skin, taking in how responsive you are to him. 

Placing one last kiss on your hip, Haechan hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, tearing them down your legs along with your soaked panties. 

Haechan's intense gaze made you want to close your legs out of embarrassment, but he didn't allow them, keeping them apart with his hands. He runs a finger through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick.

Your hips instantly lift against his hand, and he takes amusement in the way you pouted when he drew his hand away.

"Fuck you," you whine.

"We're getting there, baby. Patience." Haechan doesn't hesitate to bring his fingers to his lips, licking your essence off his hand. 

He hums, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. You could've sworn you watched his eyes grow darker; you could barely tell they were brown anymore. 

"Taste as good as I remember, angel," Haechan licks his lips. 

Bringing his hand back between your thighs, Haechan sinks two fingers into your cunt, easily breaching your walls from how wet you are. Moans bubbled up in your throat, the feeling of his fingers curling against your gummy walls eliminating the excruciating pain you were in.

You grab onto his wrist, rolling your hips into his hand.

"Haechan..please fuck me." 

A sound resembling a growl rumbled in his chest, hearing you beg for him. 

You pathetically whined when Haechan left you empty and untouched as he started to take off the last thing he was wearing. Kicking his jeans off, letting his boxers be the last to join the rest of the clothes on the floor, Haechan strokes his cock in his hand. Your mouth waters as you press your thighs together at the sight of him. 

"You know it's been a minute, baby, and I haven't properly prepped you. Think you can take it?" he teases. 

You wrap your hand around his length, squeezing your fist around him, making him curse lowly.

"Can you?" you raise an eyebrow.

Haechan pushes you back onto your back, giving you no warning before slamming into you. 

"Oh, my fucking god, Hyuck!" you cried, your nails painfully digging into his shoulders.

"You're so wet—shit. Pussy feels so fucking good." Haechan groaned, thrusting into you.

You roughly grabbed his hair, smashing your lips into his, and Haechan's pace started to pick up. He dropped his head to watch his cock slip into your heat easily, every time he eased out of you just to fill you up to the hilt again.

Haechan sat back on his haunches, still fucking into your messy pussy. Haechan was in awe of the sight beneath him. The way you tried to move your hips to match his movements but had a hard time keeping up because of the pleasure fogging up your mind.

With his hands still on your waist, Haechan pulled you up to sit in his lap, sinking down even further on his cock.

You threw your head back, moaning shamelessly. You held onto him, gyrating your hips against his. Haechan grabbed your ass, lifting you up before letting you sink back down, the tip of his cock brushing your sweet spot.

"You're so hot," Haechan's eyes were glossed over as he looked at you. Your walls clenched around him tightly, humming in agreement as you studied his face.

You gripped his chin between your fingers, squishing his cheeks together before you planted a kiss on his lips.

"I want—I need more. Please, Haechan," you pant against his lips. 

The corners of his lips curled up mischievously. Haechan pushed you back onto the bed, leaving you empty. He then manhandled you onto your hands and knees. You kept your hips raised in the air as he easily slipped back in, bottoming out. You moaned into the sheets, gripping them, feeling Haechan's cock stretch you in the most delicious ways.  

"Fuck, angel," he rasped.

Haechan's fingers gripped your body, bruisingly tight as you matched his rhythm and moved your hips, your skin meeting in sharp slaps each time. Haechan grabbed your ass, spreading your cheeks and watching your sopping pussy swallow his cock. You could feel the slick dripping down your thighs, probably making a mess on Haechan as well. 

"You feel so fucking good, Hyuck," your words were muffled by bedding beneath you.

"Poor baby. So desperate to cum," he started stroking your clit, making you squirm. "Good thing you have me to help make you feel better," he pressed a kiss below your jaw.

"Unfortunately, you're the only thing that can," you tease.

Haechan scoffs as if he took real offense to those words. But oh, was it the best decision you've made all night.

He forced your head back into the pillows, deepening your back's arch and fucking you relentlessly.

"Yes, yes, yes. P-Please—Haechan!"

"You feel that? How good I'm making you feel. Have I already fucked you dumb, sweetheart?" he said in a condescending tone, "What was it you said before?" he asked. Haechan knew you didn't have half a mind to think about anything from even two seconds ago, too consumed in the euphoric feeling of him blowing your back out.

"Hyuck..." was all you could say, and he proudly smiled.

"That's right, baby. Say my name. Remind yourself who's fucking you this good."

"Please, Hyuck. I'm gonna cum."

"Me too, angel." He snaked his hand down between your legs, rubbing your puffy clit. 

You cried into the sheets. The sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis mixed with your muffled whines and Haechan's breathy moans. 

"Let me feel that pretty pussy cum around me," he said in your ear. 

Your pussy had a vice grip on his cock, nearing the edge. Your walls pulsed around his length, your legs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. 

"Haechan, Haechan, Haechan," you chanted his name, riding out the wave of euphoria. 

If it wasn't for Haechan still holding your hips up, your body would have collapsed to the bed. He kept pounding into your heat, your pussy enveloping his cock as he fucked his cum into you. 

You whined, feeling overstimulation begin to overtake you, but Haechan continued to lazily thrust into you. His cum started to leak out of you, dripping down his length and your thighs. 

Haechan's cock finally went soft, leaving you empty, the sticky white substance now coating your folds and inner thighs. 

Haechan rolled you over onto your back, looking into your glassy eyes. The tension filling the room was only accompanied by your heavy breathing.

You brushed his hair out of his eyes before slapping him across the face. Haechan cursed and rubbed his stinging cheek.

"Sorry," you apologized, "Had to make sure."

"Well?"

"Spell's broken," you tell him, sitting up.

"How do you know?"

"Cause I can go back to feeling like I hate you without being in pain again."

Haechan laughs, "You still hate me?" 

"Maybe just a little less," you smile before you kiss him. Haechan wasn't expecting it, but he kissed you back immediately.

"Thank you."

"Are you sure I'm not already dead and in heaven?" 

You laughed, "I'm pretty sure."

. . .

"You sure you're okay?" Jaemin asks over the phone. 

"Yeah."

"And Haechan?" 

You heard Haechan singing in the shower and bit back a smile.  

"He's fine too," you say. "You think the witch knew what she was doing?"

"Of course, she did. She could probably sense the sexual tension between you two the moment you were in town."

"What are you saying? That that was her own twisted way of playing matchmaker?"

"She's a pretty powerful love witch, that's pretty much her specialty."

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you guys sent us here on purpose."

"We did. Just so you guys reconcile whatever was going on between you. But none of us thought this would've happened. You two could've died."

"But we didn't."

"Yeah, you didn't. What're you gonna do about that now anyway?"

"That is something we can figure out on the drive back." 

a/n: now i’m ngl i may have self inserted a little too hard with this one except we actually have a happier ending 🙂

[moonlightazriel]

Son of the Darkness XVI /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Hidden for so long The court of shadows thrived, and things were great until the high lord's death, now the next in line should assume the crown of high lord of shadows, will he accept his duties?

Warnings: SMUT and talkings about war.

Word Count: 2,7K

Notes: After so long, SOD is finally back, it feels so good to be writing this again.

Son of the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“I must say that I love a good-looking fierce female.” Helion leaned closer to Y/N and she giggled trying to politely shove him away, Azriel raised an eyebrow at that, his wings flaring and he puffed his chest, appearing bigger and scarier as Helion hit on his mate. 

They had retrieved to a banquet room, food was being served and wine was being passed around. Y/N was seated right beside Helion and Azriel was across from them, the High Lords and their courts having nice conversations with each other, the atmosphere was amicable, it almost felt like the meeting hadn't occurred. 

“What are our numbers?” Tamlin asked, trying to make small talk, everyone turned his way, harsh gazes directed at him, he tried to ignore how this made him feel, by sipping on his goblet. 

“Let’s enjoy this feast, we never got to be together like that.” Thesan redirected the conversation to something else, everyone was hiding their numbers, Tamlin could not be trusted, it was a smart move. 

Soon, everyone was walking around, talking with friends they hadn’t seen in a really long time. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow among the stones that composed the room and the people. 

“This place is beautiful.” Y/N whispered, appearing behind Azriel, her voice sounded tired. He turned to her, pulling her closer by the waist.

“Did you like it? I can build one for you.” She looked at him, blushing a bit under his intense gaze, the sun reflected in his eyes, making them look like melted gold.

“No need, I’m perfectly fine with Tornan.” She replied, feeling the light flutter of a thousand butterflies in her stomach as he looked at her. 

Azriel wanted to kiss her, but instead, he pulled her towards the musicians, moving her in an animated dance. Neither of them were that good, bumping into each other but the smile on her face made it all worth it. 

His family watched, Azriel seemed lighter, happier. He deserved all the happiness he could find, and he sure did in the arms of the female who looked at him like he was her whole world. They could smell their bond, so strong, even if it hadn’t snapped yet for her. A match like no other. 

“You’re all welcome to stay here for the night, but you can leave.” Thesan announced. Rhysand’s voice quickly echoed through their minds, telling them he would like to stay. 

Each high lord had the same idea, deciding to stay. Thesan escorted Tamlin out and the Night court walked to their designated chamber. Helion follows them closely. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“The Illyrian legions are ready for war, every single camp was prepared. The dark bringers are joining too.” Rhys stated, spinning the wine in his glass. Helion nodded. 

“My armies are all ready as well. Everyone I could gather.” He looked at Azriel, he was standing in the corner, hugging Y/N from behind, with his arm around her neck. Helion eyed the both of them with lust, the clear smell of arousal made Cassian snort a laughter. “You know you’re always invited to join, Lord of Bloodshed.” He whispered, winking at Cassian. 

“Her legions are ready.” He said he was the High Lord, but the person who spent her whole life getting ready and taking care of his “army” was her, it was only fair to address things properly. 

“55.000 soldiers ready to be transported by the Sephiran coven.” She added that pride emanated from the dark bridge between them, so much pride that leaked through half their bond. 

“We’re marching to war as well.” Evanore, who had watched all evening in her own world, spoke. “For healing and for protecting, if we can gather the armies together, we can bless the weapons.” 

“Cassian and I are going to the Illyrian camps first thing tomorrow morning.” Rhys turned to her. “Maybe you can start there? I can try to help.” Eva nodded. 

“Sounds like a plan.” She happily replied. 

“Then we need to go back home, it’s time for the Nightfall.” The night court members nodded. 

Talking took a little while longer, with Feyre pulling Y/N aside. As soon as they were on the balcony, Feyre smiled at her. 

“I need your help.” She started, not sure how to tell her exactly what the plan was.

“Whatever you need.” Feyre nodded.

“I want Bryaxis by our side.” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“The Soul Seeker?” The female smirked. “That will be interesting. We will do that tomorrow.” Feyre nodded, shared a quick handshake and they went back inside. 

“Do you want to go to sleep, my love?” Azriel asked as she approached, a cute yawn coming out of her mouth as she agreed, they said their goodbyes and marched to the chamber designated to them. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What is up with Helion? He looked like he wanted to fuck you.” She asked, removing her jewelry and makeup in front of the mirror. 

“It’s his dream to get me and Cassian in his bed.” He approached her from behind, hands pressing the knots in her shoulders. “And now apparently you.” She could hear the jealousy in his voice. 

“Jealous, my High Lord?” Her voice was low and sensual, her pink tongue wetting her lips as she looked at him through the mirror. 

“Maybe.” It was all that he said, his hand wrapped around her throat and he forced her up, kicking the chair to the side. “It’s just that…” His lips started to kiss the skin of her neck, and she let her head fall onto his shoulder, pressing her lips together so she wouldn’t moan. “The thought of you with another male, it’s enough to drive me insane.”

His hand kept pressing her throat, while his other traveled down her body, fingers ghosting over her nipple, which hardened under his touch, the lacy nightgown was also enough to drive him mad. His cock throbbed in his pants, and he pressed it against her ass. 

“Eager, I see?” She teased, Azriel smirked against the skin of her shoulder, only to dip his hand inside her underwear, touching her bare dripping cunt. She shivered, pressing her legs together, arching her back and her ass as she tried to control her breath. Azriel rubbed circles in her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body. He wanted to taste her so badly. 

He turned her around, almost coming with her expression, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, and flushed cheeks, he felt proud of being the one making her feel like that. His hands helped her sit on the desk, the contact of her hot skin against the cold surface made her whimper, the sound going straight to Azriel’s cock.

He pulled down her underwear, locking his gaze on her, her expression filled with lust as she watched him kneel in front of her, part her legs open, and dip his head between her legs, tongue licking a stripe along her core, focusing on the apex of her tights while two of his fingers pumped in and out of her. One of her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer to her, while the other held firmly on the desk. 

She whimpered and squirmed, feeling her peak approach her fast as Azriel’s skilled tongue drove her closer to the edge, he flickered his tongue in circles, making her moan loudly. 

“Oh Mother, I’m going to cum.” She blurted it out, how long since someone properly ate her out? She couldn’t even remember, and she didn’t want to, he was the only one who would ever do that again, and he did it so well.

“Come in my tongue, love.” He said, going back to his ministrations, moving his fingers and tongue in synchrony, at an impossibly fast pace. Y/N was violently thrown over the edge. Coming so hard that she felt consciousness slip away from her grasp. Azriel noticed, getting up and pulling her in his arms. Gently carrying her to bed. 

He pulled her under the covers, circling the bed and going to the other side, pulling her to his chest again, she softly snored and he tried to calm his hormones, going to sleep with the taste of her still in his tongue. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We have to go home soon.” Azriel said, rubbing soap on her back as they shared the shower in the morning. She turned to him, gently applying shampoo on his dark locks, fingers rubbing his scalp and Azriel let out a low groan in pleasure, he loved to have her whining and panting underneath him, but this non-sexual pleasure? Just having her in this intimate way? It was enough to have him giggling and kicking his feet like a little girl. 

“Are you going with Rhys?” He nodded. “I’ll ask someone to take me there, I need to do something with Feyre first.” He hummed in agreement. 

“Maybe Mor can take you.” Y/N whispered a “sure” and they finished their shower. Getting dressed and eating the meal that was sent to their chamber. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Thank you again for coming with me.” Y/N shook her head, they were all back to the night court, and now she and Feyre were marching down to the bottom of the library. 

“I like him.” It was all that the brunette said. Her scalp tingled as she felt the temperature drop, Feyre squeezed her hand harshly. “Hey, Soul Seeker.” 

“I haven’t heard this name in a long time.” The shadows moved with curiosity. “You’re not from here.” He deduced. “You belong home.” 

“Took a while for you to notice.” She joked and Feyre tried to look at her, feeling the fear sneaking up her spine, she was rigid, afraid to make the wrong move. The shadows moved and the beast chuckled. 

“They fear me here.” Bryaxis stated. 

“Good for you, that our High Lady here has a deal for you.” She nudged Feyre, the female cleared her throat. 

“If you help us in the war, I can get you home.” The beast got agitated with interest. 

“All I have to do is help?” Feyre hummed in agreement. “And how do I get back to the Court of Shadows?” He inquired. 

“The Sephiran.” Y/N replied. 

“Ahhh, the witches. My dearest friends.” The shadows moved and it felt like he was happy. 

“But…” they abruptly stopped. “You will have to follow our rules, and fight for us until we don’t need you anymore, and only then will we bring you home.” The creature watched Y/N, then Feyre, who stood with more confidence. 

“We have a deal then.” The creature said, and both females could feel the burning in their arms, as they reached the light, a drawing of the night sky, the court of the Shadows night sky, marked their skin.

“I’ll ask Amren to help with the restraining spell. Mor will take you to the camps.” Feyre stated as they reached the house of wind. “Thank you for helping me.” 

“I’m always here to aid a friend.” She winked, squeezing Feyre’s hand, the female smiled, going after Amren. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“I hate this place.” Mor stated as she felt the male’s eyes lingered a bit too long on parts they shouldn’t. 

“Males are awful everywhere, I see.” She pointed out, gaining a few more angry gazes as they walked through Windhaven, reaching Devlon’s tent. 

Rhysand sat on the desk, while Cassian discussed strategies with Devlon, who had a very sour expression on his face. 

“Where’s Eva and Azriel?” Y/N asked, earning the attention of the three males. 

“She’s protecting the weapons and he’s with her, for safety.” Rhys gestured for the two to approach. Y/N looked at the Prythian map.

“We should face them in an open field.” Devlon insisted.

“Or we could force them near the sea, here.” Cassian pointed. 

“Some of the summer court members have water abilities, and so do the witches.” The leader of Windhaven shivered at the words. “That beautiful creature out there? One of the most powerful witches ever born.” She proudly spoke of her best friend. 

“Fucking hell.” That was all that he replied. Looking back at the map. 

“Here, we have this mountain and water. This guarantees they can’t attack us from behind. Natural protection.” She crossed her arms. Cassian smiled at her. 

“That’s actually perfect, but how do we get this many people there?” 

“Teleporting!” Evanore said, entering the tent, sweat coated her forehead even in the cold winds of the mountain. “Me and my sisters can teleport all of them, it’s no big deal.” She smiled. 

“Then it’s done.” Cassian circulated the area on the map with a coal pencil. “This is where it all ends.” 

At this same time, Feyre and her sisters entered the tent, Nesta looking around and giving a small smile to Eva and Y/N, while Elain just nodded to everyone, her eyes lingering a little while longer on Azriel, Y/N rolled her eyes at that, deciding to ignore it.

Then, they all felt the shaking of the ground and the air being knocked out of their lungs, like a huge wave of raw magic sweeping over the camp, the terrified looks in their eyes. 

“The wall is gone.” Nesta stated. She had felt it more deeply as they used the cauldron. 

“We need to be fast.” Y/N grabbed Evanore’s hand and they both disappeared through the folds of time. Going home. 

They were met with the witches already waiting at the war camp. “I called them.” Eva explained. 

“ATTENTION.” Y/N yelled, the soldiers falling silent as they reunited in front of their general. “It’s time.” Her voice echoed through the camp, thanks to one of the Sephiran spells. “The war is here and we need to prepare, he trained our whole lives for this. This is the moment.” The soldiers nodded in silence. “Gather your supplies, take your armor. We’re leaving in the morning.” She dismissed them with a wave of her hand. 

The chaos started as soon as they departed, the clinking of metal from the armory being carried around, swords being cleaned and packed. The kitchen packing food to feed an army twice as big. The healers rushed around getting their wagons ready. 

“Someone needs to go back to Prythian and keep blessing their weapons.” Eva told Rune, who just nodded, that she might be the leader and know everything that was happening, but Evanore was the future of the Coven, she wanted to see if her sister had what it took to keep their legacy once Rune couldn’t. 

“I’ll send Thalia and Kharis to bless their weapons. Ellora, Alais, Ryo, and I are going to transport them. You should rest, sister.” Rune advised. 

“Rune is right.” Y/N squeezed Evanore’s shoulder. “You can rest in my tent.” The blond looked at her. 

“What about you?” Her blue eyes were filled with concern. 

“I have too much to do.” She ushered Evanore to her tent, turning to Rune. “We need to take them to the Illyrian war camps.” She felt all the weight on her shoulders, Ryo wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so sorry to ask that from you.” 

“It’s our land too, we will fight for what’s right.” Ellora spoke, her voice was soothing. She squeezed Y/N’s hand. “Everything is going to be fine.” But she wondered if they really would. The fear was clawing at her heart and she felt sick to her stomach. 

“I’ll prepare tea for you.” Alais offered and the female nodded. She needed to calm down if she wanted to make this work.

“Thank you all, for always being kind to me. You’re all a blessing to this land.” Rune smiled at her. The witch was at least 700 years old, but as all the witches did, she looked as young as ever with the red hair and the freckles adorning her face. 

“It’s our pleasure to fight by your side, general.” The witch bowed, Ryo let her go and Alais was next to her with the tea, she sipped quickly, feeling the calming properties of the plant filling her senses. 

She exchanged a quick goodbye to the witches and went to the meeting room, to share her strategies with her soldiers, the sounds of the camp muffled by her powerful voice. 

“I guarantee to you all, we will be the standing ones on that battlefield, we won’t lose this war.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @allison-rosewood-maximoff @devilsfoodcake22 @fieldofdaisiies @brekkershadowsinger @valeridarkness @margssstuff

[mrsfrankadler]

Handsome Stranger

ransom drysdale x reader, carter Baizen x reader

A/N: okay why is this man so fine.. put him in jail this has to be against some law somewhere. my god.

- can be a standalone but you’ll wanna read this first, a little backstory for ya🤷🏾‍♀️

Warning: Ransom is lowkey an asshole, bad flirting, swear words 😓

Summary: You finally let rich boy Ran take you out. Let's hope he doesn't ruin his chances… [ 🤣 ]

⋆

Nobody's POV

When you and Ransom arrived to location of the party, it was a big white house illuminated by the floor lights leading to the door.

You just stared in awe. You weren't used to this. Not big parties or being surrounded by loads of rich people. Just staying in with Jake trying to make your way down the watchlist. You never would've guessed you'd be here in front of this modern mansion, with this super fine rich guy in the seat next to you.

"What are you thinkin' about?"

You were pulled back to reality. You turned your head to face him.

"Nothing." You deadpanned. You couldn't let this cocky bastard find out you were nervous. "Let's go."

You quickly got out of the car, being careful not to roll your ankle over the gravel in your heels and made your way to the door, Ransom following closely behind.

When you reached the door, Ransom leaned forward to knock and rested his other hand on the small of your back.

As you waited by the door, he started to rub your back.

"You sure you're okay, gorgeous?" He pulled you closer to him by your waist. You sighed trying to think up something to say but you were saved by the bell. The door abruptly opened to reveal a slightly disheveled redhead.

Her auburn hair was littered with thin braids and there was a dark brown eyeshadow clouding her kind, green eyes.

She looked to Ransom first, subtly squinting her eyes at him before greeting him. "Ransom." Clearly they had met before... Then she turned to look at you.

"Hi, pretty!" She held out her hand for you to shake, "What's your name?"

"Y/N." You took her hand and the coldness of her rings tickled your skin.

"Wanda, nice to meet you." She winked.

Y/N POV

She invited the two of us inside of the spacious estate and the loud pop music flooded my ears and vibrated my head. Looking around, seeing designer jewellery and old money, I became hyper aware of my surroundings. I began to feel inferior, not good enough to be here. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and my eyes darted around frantically until they landed on the open bar across the living room.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in, tugging Ransom by his arm to whisper in his ear, "I'm going to the bar, find me there later." You looked to Wanda, "excuse me." And left for the bar.

⋆

Making your way to the bar you set your eyes on the last free bar stool and started to make your way to it, but just before you could get to it, someone swiftly sat there instead, causing you sto stumble slightly backward.

You cleared your throat in annoyance, "Uhm, excuse me.."

The person who took your seat turned around slowly with a slight smirk on his face. He had curly, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you going to sit here?" He looked up at you, the flirtation evident in his tone.

"Yes. I was." You replied, matter-of-factly.

"Well, I'm sorry princess, but I can't give it up." You furrowed your brows, "I was here first." He stayed smiling and shrugging.

You figured you had no time for bullshit tonight; so you turned around ready to walk away, you guessed you'd just have to find a drink elsewhere but he grabbed grabbed your wrist before I could get anywhere.

"Oh- wait!" What now?

Y/N POV

When I turned around, he had long wiped that smirk right off of his face, it had now been replaced with a sincere apologetic look.

"I- I'm sorry if I came off as an asshole." He sighed. "I was trying to flirt..."

Wow, flattering.

"Yeah well, nice job, Romeo," I retorted.

His brows scrunched together, but he smiled at my joke.

He started to pull me closer by my wrist, "I just wanted an excuse to talk to you, I guess. You're very beautiful."

You felt your face grow hot, he was so smooth with it. He had managed to push you away and reel you right back in within minutes and you were most definitely falling for it.

"Thank you." You giggled at his compliment.

"What's your name?"

You told him your name.

"Well. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman." He winked and you snickered.

"Wow, never heard that one before."

He chuckled before standing up. He must have been around 6 feet. "Have my seat, princess."

⋆

Nobody’s POV

You and this charming stranger began to talk and the conversation was flowing effortlessly. You had learned his name, Carter, and the fact that though this was his party, it was his parent's house. He just wanted to host here because it's much bigger than his loft in New York.

You had soon taken a liking to Carter. Though he was cocky and the beginning, you came to find out he was just trying to flirt and in reality he was quite sweet.

Inevitably though, your relaxed conversation was soon interrupted when a heavy hand suddenly landing on your shoulder mid sentence. Ransom.

"Ransom!" The brunette exclaimed. "How are you, man? It's so good to see you." Ransom must be pretty well known.

The two men shook hands firmly as Ransom suspiciously looked between you and Carter before replying to Carter's greeting.

"So, what are we talking about?" Ransom huffed.

⋆

You slumped into the passenger seat of Ransoms BMW, rolling your eyes as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

See, when he came over to you and Carter, you expected the two of them to start conversing about rich man activities like boats or golf or something, but instead Ransom thought it would be a good idea to pick a fight and accuse Carter of flirting with his girl.

"For the record, big-head, I am not your girl. Don't get it twisted."

He just sighed looking on at the road and gripping the steering wheel, "Okay but, he's.., he's not man enough for you, not good enough. He's recently 20, practically a kid. I'm comin' up 27, I can provide."

You sarcastically mouthed, "wow." to yourself as he rattled on about how much better he is

"Well, what kind of woman do you take me for thinkin I'm gonna run off with some other guy when I'm supposed to be your date to the party." You turned to look at him, your eyes shooting daggers.

"I'm sorry." He momentarily looked down. He could be an asshole sometimes but he seemed genuinely sorry.

His vintage beemer came to a slow outside of you and Jake's shared, little house,

"So... we going to your place or should we go to mine?" he furrowed his brows trying to convince you with that stupid, sexy little smirk. You just laughed to yourself in disbelief.

"You know what you can just drop me right here, thanks Ransom." you replied sweetly, trying not to break. You swiftly got out of the car, trying not to roll your ankle on the concrete and made your way to the door.

"Well, I'll see you later?" He called out.

You yelled back, "Don't hold your breath, Ran."

⋆

A/N: welp. Ransom is being a dick. shock horror🤷🏾‍♀️. (somebody give me motivation and ideas).