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howcouldmuffin · 1 month

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First Choice I

[ Chapter 1 : The Unchangeable Past ]

You’ve always known you weren’t his first choice. You’ve accepted being his second option, but you won’t wait in the wings forever.

PAIRING : Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : SFW, Targaryen Incest, Non-canon

CONTENTS : Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

AN : Hello, this is a mini-series I’ve been wanting to write. At first, I intended to write it as a single chapter, but the plot in my head is too extensive, so I thought it might be better to split it up. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece of writing.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

Being the second child isn’t easy, and if you’re a daughter, your importance within the family starts to diminish. You have to hide behind your older siblings, always being compared to them, whether it’s your older sister, brother, or even younger brother.

You know that you are often overlooked. No matter how hard you try to please your grandparents or parents, you can never measure up to your siblings. You have nothing to compete with them. All you have is your appearance, which your mother often describes as “beautiful but mindless.”

Hearing those words only deepens your hurt. You can never be the child or grandchild they want, and even your beauty becomes a sharp weapon slowly aimed at you. Every time you enter the hall at social gatherings, you sense their expectations. The unwanted attention and harassment you faced as a child made you reluctant to participate in social events and made you want to leave.

Once, you heard that Rhaenyra, your eldest sister, wanted to betroth her son Jacaerys to your sister Helaena. Your mother refused and instead betrothed Helaena to your eldest brother Aegon. Now, your father Viserys has offered a new arrangement: you will be betrothed instead. You are not the eldest daughter who needs to marry the eldest son like Helaena. You are not a son like Aemond or Daeron. You are being forced into this marriage, and you know that your nephew is also dissatisfied with it.

You don’t hate him, but rather it's him who seems to feel that way. Being close to Aemond in your childhood, though it made you a target of teasing, helped you understand him. Aegon was always skilled and clever in these matters, often taking your nephew on mischievous adventures. You tried to comfort your brother when he was being picked on, but he seemed indifferent to your words.

Yet, your own tragic feelings only pushed you further into despair. At every gathering, you watched your nephew intently. During every training session, your eyes were fixed on him. At every meal where jokes were shared, you always looked to see his reaction. You did this because no one ever paid attention to you while your relatives were nearby—like the moon waiting for the sun’s light.

And then, it reached its end. The event that caused both families to avoid each other. Aemond lost an eye and received a dragon. You knew your brother was the one who started the conflict, harming the children first, and he was no longer someone who tolerated much. You told him that now that he had a dragon, the largest one at that, he should stop nursing his grudges and focus on other things instead. Aemond didn’t respond; he merely gave a scornful smile and turned away from you.

This meant you never saw him again. Not even a single letter was exchanged. You could only listen to the servants in the castle recount stories about them. You dreamt of and wondered what he would be like. How would he react if he knew and realized that you were his betrothed? You eagerly awaited the chance to stand by his side, training yourself in every way for him, hoping that it might finally make a difference.

After waiting for many years, you are finally going to meet him, though not under the most pleasant of circumstances. At least you will meet the man who is meant to shape you into someone you have never been. You chose to wear a golden V-neck dress with sleeveless straps, with a few thin bands around your arms serving as sleeves. Your hair was simply braided and pinned back. You are filled with hope, though it could easily shatter.

As soon as you step into the grand hall, all eyes are on you. It is known that the youngest daughter prefers seclusion over socializing, and you hope this will make a good impression on the prince. Your eyes quickly search for him and you spot him talking with your cousin. You head in his direction, eagerly anticipating his approach. You can barely contain your excitement, and your smile is one of astonishment. Yet, you can sense that the look he gives you is far from friendly—it is the last thing you hoped for.

“Why are you so late?” your mother’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. “And where is your sister?” Alicent grips your arm, causing you pain, but you are used to it.

“I was just helping Helaena get the children dressed. She should be here soon.” you reply, and her grip loosens as her stern expression softens.

“It’s good you didn’t leave your sister in trouble.”

The judgment clearly favors your sister over Vaemon, but what makes your heart race is Rhaenys's announcement of a betrothal between her granddaughter and Rhaenyra's son. Your concern grows as you notice Jacaerys and Baela exchanging smiles that are unfamiliar and perhaps never meant for you.

After the verdict was delivered, you withdrew from the hall and retreated to your room immediately. It became clear that, despite the passage of time, he might never see you in a favorable light. You have no one to blame but yourself—although you never mocked him directly, you never stopped those who did. Perhaps it is only fitting that you face this now.

After lying awake for what felt like an eternity, your trusted maid entered your room to prepare you for dinner with the family. You had shed a few tears after leaving the hall, and your eyes were now slightly swollen.

“Your Highness.” the maid, Vidah, said as she entered, “Shall we get ready? The prince will appreciate you even more.”

“No need, Vidah.” you replied. “There’s no point in doing that. Let things unfold as they will.” You smiled at her and slowly rose from the bed. She must understand you by now. Vidah is the only one you can confide in—like a mother, a friend, and an older sister all in one. She is another family to you.

“It’s alright, Your Highness.” she said, guiding you to the vanity and helping you sit in front of it. “You have more beauty and grace than any woman in Westeros. One day, the prince will see this.”

You nodded, and she gently began to undo your braid, combing your hair slowly as if it were silk.

“I’ll make you the most desirable princess in the Seven Kingdoms.” she whispered. “Even in this dress, you remain beautiful. Don’t undervalue yourself.”

“Thank you, Vidah.” you said, finally managing a genuine smile.

You walked into the dining hall slowly, relieved to not be late but anxious that not all your siblings had arrived yet. You feared another reprimand, but Aegon’s presence helped ease your nerves. He told you amusing stories, and even though you knew they were embellished, they were still entertaining.

As more people entered the dining room, you found yourself constantly scanning for Jacaerys. When he did arrive, you saw him walking in with Baela, just as before. The feeling in your heart was as if it had dropped from the top of the castle. When Viserys entered, everyone showed respect to your father, and the meal began.

You noticed the prince’s gaze occasionally fixed on you—sometimes with surprise, sometimes with scrutiny, and sometimes just passing over you. You hadn’t spoken a word since the meal started. Aemond seemed indifferent, merely eating to finish, while Helaena was lost in her thoughts.

Aegon seemed to be trying to engage Jacaerys, but was unsuccessful. Jacaerys then stood and invited Helaena to dance, not you. You could only think that if your mother were less biased, they might have made a wonderful pair and ruled the realm superbly.

Though it was still early, it was late enough to use as an excuse to escape your relatives. Walking alone through the Red Keep at night was not unusual for you, as you were rarely noticed unless there was a festive event or a tournament.

You wandered for an indeterminate amount of time, wanting to continue aimlessly until you overheard a conversation.

“You cannot refuse to speak with her.”

“Do you think she wants to speak with me? Last time, she cried because her beloved brother lost an eye, and even though she saw the whole event, she ran away.”

“She went to get help.”

“And what happened? My brother is now targeted by my uncle.”

You didn’t listen further. You knew it would be as they said—if only you had stopped your brother back then, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. You might truly be a walking disaster. Maybe you aren’t as valuable as everyone says.

Upon returning to your room, you found Vidah waiting for you. She would try to soothe you to sleep before going to bed herself or at least ensure you didn’t return to your room in tears as you did tonight. You hugged her and rested on her lap as you used to. She gently stroked your head and comforted you.

“If only I… if only I had told him to stop.” you sobbed. “Maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

“If I had intervened, they… they might not be like this.” tears flowed down both sides of your face, staining Vidah's clothes and hair, making them damp.

“Oh, my princess.” she gently stroked your back. “Whatever is meant to happen will happen. If you had intervened, you might have been the one to lose an eye. You did well to get others to help.”

“I don’t know what Aemond thinks of his nephew now.” you sobbed. “I tried, Vidah, but is my effort still not enough?”

“My princess, you have tried enough. We cannot make things turn out as we wish. You know that.” she replied, then helped you lie down comfortably and stroked your head gently. “Sleep now. We have tomorrow to wake up to. You have done your best, my princess.”

You said nothing further and nodded to your trusted maid. You slowly closed your eyes, trying to stop your thoughts and rest as Vidah advised.

Once again, the family gathering has arrived, but this time it's just the children, staring at each other. Everyone is sitting in a large reception room. You occasionally glance at him; he seems very familiar with Baela.

“They surely didn’t call us just to stare at each other, did they?” Aegon asks.

“We're waiting here, and after they finish their discussion, we'll have dinner together.” Jacaerys replies. You can tell your older brother must have some plan he's about to execute.

“Well, they might be mistaken about our patience.” he says with a broad smile. “Come on, nephew. Let’s find something fun to do.”

It’s bound to be neither fun nor trouble-free. Aegon turns to invite Jace again, but he doesn’t react. He shrugs and walks out of the room, glancing back at you in confusion. Aemond, seeing this, turns to you and also exits the room.

“Jaehaerys, don’t be a nuisance.” your sister warns her son as she sees your father and uncle leaving. The boy approaches you, likely wanting you to play with him instead, and you don’t refuse.

“Who’s been a good boy today?” You pick him up and chat as you usually do. He’s much livelier than his sister, but Jaehaera causes less trouble.

“I am, and Haera.”

“What a lovely brother you are.” you touch his tiny nose, and he touches it back, laughing. It warms the atmosphere in the room. Children often heal your spirit on tired days; their smiles make you ready to protect them unconditionally.

“He has grown up well.” Baela comments. “He’ll grow into a fine young man.” She stands up and approaches you. You’re unsure how to react.

“He likes being held.” you respond. “Would you like to try holding him?” Baela looks at your sister, who nods in agreement, and she slowly takes the boy from you. You gently pat the child’s back and tell him it’s okay.

As expected, Jaehaerys makes Baela smile, and the boy tells her stories he thinks are amazing. You catch the eye of your fiancé, who is focused on her. Luke and Rhaena are chatting with your sister. Soon, you notice Jacaerys looking at you. You meet his gaze, and it’s a stare after many years of not seeing each other. He’s still the same as when you first met. He moves closer, and you feel a glimmer of hope that he might want to talk to you, but why would he?

He walks over to Baela, engaging in a conversation you feel hesitant to interrupt. It flows smoothly, and they seem quite familiar with each other. You smile at Helaena and slowly leave the room. When will you be brave enough? You walk to the grand corridor and stop at a large column, facing it, not crying but trying to gather your composure.

“Try if you can, sister.” a familiar voice says.

“Just leave me alone, Aemond.”

“You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I am myself.” you face him. “And what if that’s the case?”

“Don’t show your feelings so openly that you appear weak.”

“Isn’t that how you all see me anyway?”

“Who, then? Mother or Grandfather?”

“All of you.”

“Being able to do everything but excel at nothing isn’t so terrible, sister.” Aemond extends his arm toward you.

“Let’s go. We’ve probably been important enough already to be late.” You grasp his arm and walk with him to the dining room. Even though your brother seems tough, it’s strange how he understands your feelings the best.

Walking alone down the corridors of the Red Keep at night is probably not a new experience for you. Exploring every corner in a different light, spending as much time as possible with yourself, not wanting to hear complaints, scolding, or comparisons from your mother, and avoiding the condescending gazes of your siblings—especially his.

But tonight, you encounter him at the other end of the corridor. You pause and consider whether to continue walking or not. But your thoughts are far behind his movements. He notices you and remains as indifferent as ever, seeming to make you invisible in his eyes, which is impossible. You have to do something about this relationship.

“Your Highness.” you begin, and he nods in acknowledgment without a word.

“Is the prince unable to sleep?”

“I just wanted to take a walk.” he says, about to move away.

“I apologize, Your Highness.” you interrupt him. “I know it’s probably too late for this, but I truly feel that I was wrong. I’m sorry for not asking Aemond to stop, for not helping, for not fully explaining the situation to everyone, and for other actions. I never harbored any dislike or aversion towards you. I know it might be hard to believe, but I speak sincerely.”

He listens but doesn’t turn to look at you. He pauses briefly to make sure you have nothing more to say, then walks away, leaving you drowning in confusion. It seems that one word cannot mend what has already been hurt. It might be a scar that can never be healed.

You return to your room to find Vidah absent. You collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of your room—the ceiling you often gaze at while dreaming of various things. It’s like a canvas for your personal musings and expressions.

You don’t cry, but you feel a release from the feelings that have been suppressed within. You have said everything you needed to him. From now on, you must prove that your thoughts are sincere, not merely words of deceit, and hope that God will assist you in this matter.

If you’re not mistaken, your relationship with Jacaerys might only be one of good friends, as he may already have someone in his heart—Baela. You don’t deny that she is more suitable for him. She is the eldest daughter, with a stronger Targaryen bloodline, and is closer to him. You hold no anger or dislike towards her, but you do not want to be part of a romantic entanglement that would only cause you pain. You don’t want to because you have already endured enough suffering.

#‧⁺◟ lyn writing table *•#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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mokulule · 11 months

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A Man has Needs part 1

This will hopefully be a short thing, maybe three or four parts. Silly with a small dash of angst for flavor. Also someone needs to stop me from starting new stories, instead of indulging my insanity.

Ship: Dead on Main (Jason/Danny)

It had been an exhausting Friday, people were out celebrating the weekend and payday both. To top it off it was prime petty crime weather too with no rain. It was a patrol that would never end. Crime Alley had really lived up to its name tonight.

Jason was exhausted. Not because anything had been particularly challenging or dangerous, but it had just been one very long night of constant stupid little crimes.

It was five in the morning and his bed was calling him. He’d already stashed his gear in storage on the roof and he was so close to being home he could practically feel the soft sheets, the promise of sleep. The open bathroom window was a bother when he was this tired. Maybe he should have just gone down to the street and walked in the door, but keys also seemed like such a bother right now and more stairs… No, window was fine, he was in.

Bed. Now.

He bumped into something outside the bathroom door. Fuzzily he looked down to see a moving box - odd. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, he’d deal with that in the morning. Bed, comfort, safe.

He stumbled into the bedroom when it turned out the door wasn’t properly shut just pushed mostly closed.

Okay check list. Boots off. What else? Pants off, shirt off. He’d pick up in the morning. Did he forget anything? Toothbrush. He glanced backwards halfheartedly, he’d already left the bathroom; bed was right there.

The bed won. Tomorrow he would deal with teeth.

Tomorrow…

He crawled under the sheets. Warm and nice and safe and mmmmh he snuggled closer to the source, breathing in mint and something biting like frosty morning air. His nose buried into soft short hair and breathed in deep again. Good. Amazing. Safe. Sated.

Sleep.

Oo o oO

Danny turned and stretched with a yawn. He frowned when something held him into place. Must have gotten himself caught in the sheets again. It wasn’t a problem, he just slipped away intangibly, rolling to the edge of the bed to reach blindly for the night table.

Where was the phone? It took him a moment but finally it connected with his hand.

He groaned when he saw the time, it was nearly midday. Jazz would frown at him for already messing his sleep schedule up, but he’d just wanted to get as much set up in his apartment as possible, that had to be an okay excuse? He turned back on his back and looked at the light dancing across the ceiling from the light breeze moving the curtains. Okay time to get up. He had another day of unpacking today.

He got out and stretched absently. He turned around intending to make his bed if only to look responsible for when Jazz would come later to see the apartment.

He turned and promptly clapped his hands over his mouth to contain the frightened scream.

There was a guy in his bed! How was there a guy in his bed?! Ancients, what the fuck?!

Wait.

Danny tilted his head, eyes trailed down the muscular and scarred back, to a well shaped butt, which the tight boxers did very little to hide, and then those thighs!

There was a hot guy in Danny’s bed!

Focus Danny. He shook his head and slapped himself for good measure. That wasn’t what was important right now - though those thighs… Ancients, Danny would happily die again crushed by them.

No!

What was important was somehow there was a (hot) stranger in his bed. Danny had not invited him, of that he was sure. He had been unpacking yesterday, there had been no consumption of ghost zone alcohol yesterday, which could otherwise explain the lack of memory.

Which meant the guy had for some reason entered Danny’s apartment and slept with him - in the boring ordinary sense, Danny lamented this fact quietly for a moment.

Danny wasn’t surprised he hadn’t woken up, he slept, well, like the dead. The only thing that would wake him was very loud noises (like his alarm or his Dad’s inside voice) or occasionally his ghost sense.

It wasn’t even that Danny was surprised to find a bedmate. It was rare that Danny slept alone these days. He was, no matter how you put it, a very powerful ghost and he gave off a lot of good concentrated ambient ectoplasm.

Sometime last year the blobs and animal ghosts in Amity had started to join him every now and then when he slept. According to Frostbite it wasn’t so strange. They fed on the energy he gave off and also benefitted from his presence, which apparently radiated safety.

At first he’d been woken up by his ghost sense every time, but he’d gotten to a point where he just subconsciously dismissed the sense when the ghosts in question didn’t have ill intentions.

So Danny wasn’t surprised he wasn’t alone. He’d expected a bit more time to pass before whatever weak ghosts might be around figured out he was here, but you don’t wake up six days out of seven with cuddly animal ghosts in your bed and get surprised by it.

No, Danny was surprised by the fact that it was a guy. A human. A person. With muscled arms and- Oh, Danny realized cheeks heating up, that probably hadn’t been the sheets he’d been stuck in earlier.

Danny covered his face with his hands and groaned in despair.

Why was there a guy in his bed? Why couldn’t there be a guy in his bed for normal reasons? Danny would have brought this guy to his bed for normal bringing a guy to bed reasons.

He crawled onto the bed intending to wake the stranger, but as he reached out for the guy’s shoulder he turned leaning into the touch and sighed like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders.

Danny was frozen, staring at the point of contact. He could sense it now: the man’s malnourished ghost core.

Danny swallowed thickly, suddenly seeing the many scars on the man’s back in a different light and that pure white streak in the otherwise black hair, it all seemed so obvious now.

The man was a halfa, or halfa adjacent. Because that was definitely warm human flesh underneath Danny’s hand.

So incredibly, unbelievably, absurdly this was essentially the same situation as usual, except not at all, because this was a person. Humanoid ghosts and ghosts with human-like or above intelligence didn’t do this. There were social conventions in place and not to mention they were usually powerful enough on their own to not need the ectoplasm.

But this guy was malnourished. He probably never had a good stable source of ectoplasm to properly develop his metabolism. Also to Danny’s metaphysical senses he smelled like he’d done the ghostly equivalent of dumpster diving to survive. Danny’s ectoplasmic aura had to be like the siren call of a buffet table.

Shit.

New plan. Danny was not gonna embarrass the poor guy. The situation was weird enough as it was. Danny was just gonna act like this was normal. Danny woke up with guests practically every day.

This was a person, not an animal, therefore petting was out of the question, so coffee.

Coffee was normal to offer guests. Also Danny needed coffee. He nodded to himself in satisfaction and floated off the bed to enter his combined kitchen and living room. The coffee machine was the first thing he got set up yesterday, clearly smart of past Danny.

It wouldn’t be long before his guest awoke with Danny no longer in the room to supply passive ectoplasm.

Maybe his human stomach wanted food too?

Oo o oO

Jason woke up with his head and nose buried in a pillow that smelled wonderful and comfortable somehow. He breathed in deep, catching mint and that biting cold he vaguely remembered from last night. Now, however he wasn’t dead on his feet, he was awake, more rested than he remember feeling for a long time and his brain connected the details into very alarming facts:

This was not his pillow. This was not his bed.

He sat up, quickly taking in the bare white walls and the stack of emptied and flattened moving boxes leaning against the wall next to a built-in closet.

This was very much not his apartment.

There was a noise of a cupboard clanging shut and Jason’s head snapped to the door that was open just a crack; he was not alone.

Shit.

He jumped out of bed, bending his knees upon impact to soften the sound. He needed to leave. Where was his clothes? His gaze darted around and he hurried to pick up his discarded items of clothing as he found them. Somehow one of his boots had ended up under the bed.

Quickly he pulled on the jeans and the shirt, was he wearing a jacket yesterday? He didn’t remember. Boots on and then he was going out the window- except there was the scent of coffee and something in the air. What was that smell?

He found himself moving to the door instead. The door squeaked as he pulled it open and he froze, hand still on the door handle, when the sound drew the attention of the young man in the kitchen.

His hair was black and sleep tousled, he had a slender athletic build and as he walked around the kitchen island bearing two cups it became apparent he was just wearing boxers. Jason’s inspection ended on his legs, which were admittedly very nice. When he looked back up he found the man standing a cautious distance away and a cute pink blush stretched all the way from his cheeks to his chest. Sky blue eyes looked up a him from underneath slightly frowning brows.

“So, you’re awake,” the man opened with an admirable attempt at a smile considering the situation. There was a beat of silence in which Jason grasped for what to even say, then the man reached his hand forward offering one of the cups, “coffee?”

There were many a thing Jason could say or should say. Like, what the fuck? You’re just gonna offer the guy who broke into your apartment coffee? Or, I’m sorry I broke into your apartment (and bed!)? And, why do you sleep with your windows open and unlocked? This is freaking Crime Alley! Or, what is it that smells so good?

What he actually said was a quiet, “yes, please.”

The cup was warm in his hands as he sipped it. And clearly this was enough for the cute guy because his smile turned more real and he nodded to himself and walked back to the kitchen counter. Jason really hoped that didn’t mean the coffee was poisoned.

“Feel free to take a seat. I hope you like pop tarts, it’s kinda all that I have at the moment.” As if summoned the toaster made a swish noise popping up the tarts. Hesitantly Jason sat down at the small square table paired with two mismatched foldable chairs. He really should turn and jump out a window. There had to be some kind of reckoning coming. Maybe the guy really cared about hospitality and Jason would be questioned after the food? Maybe that’s what was going on.

But also strangely his gut was telling him he was safe here? He really had no clue what to do with that.A paper plate with a pop tart was set down in front of him and after setting down his own pop tart and coffee the man joined him.

Jason was supremely aware of the few inches between their knees. This wasn’t a large table after all and if he moved just slightly they would be touching. But why would he want them to be touching? Why was it so tempting?

Jason clenched his hands firmly and stared down at the pop tart, with an intensity born of the fact that for some reason he had to focus on not knocking knees with a stranger.

“You look at that poor pop tart as if you think it’s gonna explode, that’s not actually what pop tart means, you know.”

Jason looked up at the guy in disbelief.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah that was terrible I know.”

Silence stretched between them and clearly embarrassed the guy hastily took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his pop tart avoiding Jason’s gaze.

Guilt twisted in Jason’s chest, not only did he invade his home he was also making him uncomfortable. His only comfort was the fact that the guy clearly wasn’t afraid of him.

Jason started eating the pop tart. For whatever the reason breakfast was part of the script the guy had decided on to make an attempt at normalcy. What else was Jason to do? He hadn’t fled when he had the chance and-

Oh-

The guy had shifted in his chair, one of their knees were touching, there was a spark and it felt like something uncurled inside him, a weight lifted. Jason blinked. This was…Mint and frost was a sting in his nose, a fullness in his chest. Goose bumps ran along his arms, and it tingled all the way to his fingertips.

Jason snapped his head up, but the guy was just looking at his phone sipping his coffee. As if he couldn’t feel the cold electricity between them. There was no way he could sit like that if he felt it? Was Jason just imagining it? He shuddered and moved slightly, just enough that they weren’t touching and instantly he regretted it. The wave of longing was almost enough to make his vision black out.

The guy looked up with a frown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine,” Jason said hoarsely, desperately focusing on the half eaten pop tart and taking another bite.

When the pop tarts were eaten and the cups emptied the man stood and Jason matched him. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected to happen at this point but it certainly wasn’t the guy, to walk over to his front door with a casual, “well I should get ready for the day.”It was a clear dismissal. An out for the whole strange situation. Jason stood up and walked over to the door.

The guy opened the door letting Jason out with a short electrifying clap on the back and a “Take care, man.”

Jason was left standing outside the door to the previously empty apartment 4A, several floors below Jason’s own top floor apartment. How did he ever mistake it for his own?

What was the deal with the guy’s touch and why did Jason crave it so desperately?

Unsettled. he started walking towards the stairwell. As he moved further away from the apartment the pull to go back lessened. It was still there, but it was replaced quickly by something else.

He felt rested, energized in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while. There was an urge to do something. He felt like he could take on the world - maybe even Sunday dinner at the manor tomorrow.

Jason laughed. Wouldn’t that surprise everyone?

He was so caught up in the euphoria of productivity and social interactions that didn’t go sour for the next couple of days, that he completely forgot about the strange Saturday morning.

If you liked this consider telling me your thoughts in the replies or tags, it is motivating. Now to hopefully write a bit on Catnip. Edit: Masterpost now up if you wanna subscribe

#dp x dc #dead on main #a man has needs #Danny is trying his best to pretend this is normal #and okay #Jason has no clue whatsoever.

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hurlingdown · 4 months

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Grr i love your zoro fic, do you write for ftm character? If you do please ftm sanji x domtop male reader 🫠🫠🫠 WANNA EAT HIM OUT SB

I WANT MORE! — TOP MALE READER X VINSMOKE SANJI

synopsis. sex with sanji always feels good. it's exciting. and fun. there's an issue though: it's just good, but never too good. well, here's the thing — sometimes, overwhelming pleasure bordering on overstimulation might be a good way to spice things up . . . wc. 1.7k

tags. ftm! brat! sanji, dom! reader. cunnilingus, squirting, multiple orgasms, cum eating, overstimulation, choking with thighs, reader's a little little mean, fluff!

Sanji gasped into the back of his hand, panting desperately.

Two warm palms had reached between his thighs and gently pried them open, a wet sensation digging into his clothed cunt.

“F-fucking hell, sweetheart,” Sanji muttered as your tongue drew up to swipe against his soaked clit. He let out a sharp exhale as you mouthed him through his boxers, wetly sucking at the fat nub. “What—what is this? Where’d you learn this from?”

You didn’t respond, too occupied with what was in front of you. The stain only grew in size as you buried your face into the sweet, musky scent, and you hummed with satisfaction, making him jolt with a whine as the vibration sent a shockwave of pleasure straight into him.

“Answer—hn, me!” Strong thighs clamped down around your head as he mindlessly rutted back against your mouth, making you see stars. “Who taught you?”

“No one,” you said, or at least tried to say, as your mouth was muzzled by Sanji pushing his wet cunt at you, smearing your face with saliva and slick. You had read about it in one of Robin’s books, and had wanted to try it.

“What? Who?” he asked dumbly, throwing his head back onto the pillow as he rocked his hips against your mouth, trying to coax your tongue out. “It better not have been those—hngh, women at the island!”

You almost wanted to laugh at how ironic it was, that the infamous Vinsmoke Sanji—known for being a womaniser—was now jealous of the women he usually fawned over.

“Hn, hah, this ain’t half bad—”

You growled, annoyed at him for using your mouth like one of his toys. You held his thighs still over your shoulder to stop him from moving, lips curling with amusement at the way his hips bucked, not understanding your displeasure. “What?” Sanji panted, raising his head to glance at you irritatedly. “Get on movin’!”

You frowned. Who did he think he was?

With measured strength, you pulled back just enough to show him a sickly sweet smile. “Shall I help you take it off, Sanji?” Fingers grasped the hem of his boxers as you pressed two thumbs into his lower crotch, enjoying the way he squirmed at your touch.

“Y-yeah,” he muttered. “Take it off already.”

What a brat. Perhaps you spoiled him a little too often.

You peeled the clothing off, revealing a lovely, fleshy pink cunt, its lips parted and drooling all over the sheets already. It was always a sight to have him under you, his hole pulsing around you as you drilled your thick cock into him, but this—this was something else entirely.

“Hold your legs open for me.”

“What?”

“Do it, or you won’t be coming tonight.”

Sanji frowned, opening his mouth as though to argue back but then deciding against it, that getting to come was far more important than any sense of self-worth tonight. He reluctantly brought his legs up and slowly spread them for you, flushing and trembling as the action exposed the entirety of his pussy to you.

Sanji thrust up against you impatiently and you immediately grabbed his hips, tight enough to bruise. You glared up at him with a warning, to which he completely ignored. “Hurry up, sweetheart,” he griped, rubbing his wet folds on your lips. “Wanna come.”

Oh. So that was all that he thought of you: something for him to hump on. You were going to teach him a lesson.

“Yeah?” You grinned. “You wanna come?”

“So bad,” Sanji whined, hips bucking as you held him still. “Just fucking go already!”

You pretended to frown and pull away, only to have him whimper, eyes widening and shaking his head frantically. “You want me to go? I’ll go.”

“No! Not what I meant—goddammit, sweetheart, you know what I want, so give it to me already.”

You barked out a laugh. “I’m not a mind reader, am I? How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”

Sanji glowered at you, almost shivering with frustration. He knew what you wanted. You wanted to see him beg, to come undone before you even touched him properly, and he was so close to doing whatever you wanted him to if it meant he would finally be able to come. He squeezed his eyes shut, sparing them of any humiliation.

“Please,” he whined your name softly. “Fuck me with your tongue.”

You smiled, pleased. “Fine with me.”

Without wasting a moment, you shoved his hips up at the same time as your tongue plunged down, sliding between the slick folds of his pussy to penetrate him. Sanji jackknifed off the bed with a hoarse scream, one hand letting go of his thigh to blindly grab for your hair, tugging at the strands painfully.

“Oh fuck—please!” he cried out, legs spasming as he shoved your mouth deeper into his cunt. You lapped at his insides with abandon, drinking and swallowing greedily the slick that drenched his hole, enjoying the way the salty tang of it rolled deep down your throat and left a fragrant aftertaste.

Drool dripped down your chin as you ate him out messily, loosening the most tender parts of his insides the way you had never been able to: by pounding your fat cock inside his pussy, or having him take your thick fingers as you stretched him out—those were good, too, but no, this was so much more sensual, and tasted so much better, and you were almost angry at yourself for not trying this sooner.

Sanji was a sobbing, whining mess when you raised your head to look at him again, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he cried out your name, begging you to take him and then take more of him. “So fuckin’—good!” he moaned loudly. “I want more!”

It’s filthy, humiliating, and so fucking arousing, and before he knew it, he was rutting back against your face, lost in so much pleasure, all at once way too much and not nearly enough to satisfy just yet—

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come!” Sanji screamed, back bowing off the bed as he came all over your face, thighs involuntarily clamping down hard around your neck, choking you so hard you blacked out for a second.

The next thing he saw when he came to his senses was your face, shiny with his come and slick, edging toward his pulsing cunt again.

You grinned at him, almost wickedly.

“No, no, no.” Sanji shook his head wildly. “No more. I just came, please, sweetheart, please—”

“You said you wanted more.”

“Just give me a second—I’ll be ready for you in a second. Please, baby.”

You ignored him. “I’m going to give you what you want, since you’ve been so good for me. Right, Sanji?”

Without waiting for his answer, you grabbed him by the ass and hoisted him up into the air, sucking eagerly at his oversensitive clit as his breath seized up, lips parting and yet unable to make noise anymore, just trembling and convulsing as the muscles in his thighs continued to spasm with too much pleasure it nearly bordered on pain.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as Sanji gasped and shuddered, clutching your hair so hard you thought you felt them getting torn up by the roots. And then you committed the next atrocity. Instead of diving in and slurping his pussy like you did before, you stuck your tongue out, using the hands gripping his ass to slowly push his cunt up your tongue, and then down, and then up again, repeatedly—fucking your tongue with his hole.

Sanji gave a helpless whimper that sounded suspiciously like your name as he writhed on your tongue, pupils so dilated you could barely see their rim. “Please,” you thought you heard him sob faintly, as though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for anymore.

“Please what?”

This was his last chance to stop you—you weren’t that cruel, after all.

“Please,” he cried weakly, “make me come again!”

You grinned, a sense of pride overwhelming you as you dove back in to finish the job—he was so well-trained, so good for you. And who were you to deny him? He was begging so nicely, after all.

Sanji let out a stream of broken moans as you continued your assault on his pussy, his thighs clenching around your head so tightly that stars pooled at the edges of your vision. Your tongue reached deep inside him and caressed a spot so good and fucking right that the coil of pleasure in his stomach started to get looser, and wetter, like a dam being driven to burst—a feeling he scarcely ever felt, but whenever he did, whenever he did—

You latched your mouth over his entrance, sealing it properly as he squirted down your throat.

His lower half went limp in your arms as he continued to tremble and whimper, and you feared for a second that you might have broken him. But when he opened his half-lidded eyes to look at you with a tenderness that you rarely ever saw, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“Never knew—” Sanji panted for breath, “that you could be so mean.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to do it again?”

He snapped out of his daze, eyes widening with horror.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Not now. I meant after.”

“Oh,” Sanji said, softly. “That would be wonderful, sweetheart.” A second shock seized him as he looked at you, almost guiltily. “What about you? You haven’t come yet.”

“No. Making you feel good was enough.” You smiled reassuringly, despite the fact that you were so hard it fucking hurt, aching with the need to feel his cunt tightening around it, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to take it. You’d take care of it later, in the shower, maybe, jerking off to thoughts of earlier.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go sleep, I know you’re tired. I’ll clean you up. And, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he mumbled tiredly. “So much.”

masterlist! # i apologise for accidentally blue-balling the reader again it was not my intention; also i love you anon i didn't know i needed this until i started imagining it

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starsxblazing · 8 months

Note

Hi friend! I had an idea that perhaps you could bring to life. Its an azriel x reader. Where shes a seamstress for Rhys, she makes all his suits and all the beautiful gowns and dresses for the girls to wear. She even makes their leathers for fighting. I imagine one of them or maybe a few of them make a comment on how she's no one important and kinda belittles her work cuz shes just a seamstress. Rhys brings all 3 males to be measured for suits and azriel is getting flushed as readers kneeling to measure the length of his pants and the slit for his wings. Rhys sees Azriel blush and gives him a stern look shaking his head like "not this one." She doesnt look them in they eye, and rhys doesnt tell azriel anything about her. Like shes rhys best kept secret. Reader feels like the IC is so much better than her and thats why they sometimes say mean things (maybe someone asks elain where her dress is from and she just scoffs like "this old thing") but its actually a protective rhys trying to keep her safe cuz she reminds him so much of his deceased sister. Bond snaps but readers so insecure she wants to decline. Sorry this was so long. Lol. Just trying to get the jist of it out. Non important seamstress reader, flushed azriel, brother like rhys. The end. 🤣🤣🤣

a/n: I really hope that I did your request justice! It was so cute writing a shy Azriel

Unnoticed

You sat at the front desk of the shop to place your order for your inventory, sighing to yourself as your eyes momentarily moved around the small store that you owned. It wasn’t anything special and was small compared to the many others in the city. There were so many other places that would be preferred by the citizens but this was your passion and refused to give up on it. The bell on the door rang and you looked up with a hopeful smile that turned into a grin when you saw who was striding in.

“Hey!” you started happily, thankful to see such a familiar face. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I will make it a top priority to come visit when it isn’t just for your services,” he chuckled.

“And what is it that I can do for the all mighty High Lord?” A giggle at his playful frown escaped you. “I’ve been looking forward to the new things that you always request.”

“We have a visit to the Day Court and it would be nice to have some new attire for the ball that Helion will be hosting.”

“That sounds so nice,” you sighed dreamily. “The same sizes as last time?”

“The females, yes.” He gave you a smile that was full of love and admiration that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “However, Azriel and Cassian will need to be measured since they usually do not wear this particular form of attire.”

“Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll have everything set up.” You searched through the files under your desk to pull out the Inner Circles information. “I can go ahead and get what you have in mind so I can get it done in time.”

Rhysand gave you a small smile, the adoration still shining in his eyes. You were never sure why he looked at you in such a way but you appreciated it anyway. He was the only thing that came close to a friend since there were times where he would stay with you and talk for hours before departing again. You had no family since they were lost in the war but you were thankful that you had been able to take refuge in Velaris.

There were times when the High Lord would try to offer to move you into a larger store in a better part of the city. It was a sweet offer but you felt as if it was charity and you didn’t want any pity. The Night Court black that was used was always beautiful to you and your friend seemed to like the little details that you added to make it stand out a bit more while still fitting his court.

Your store stayed in business simply because of Rhysand’s orders for his family because you made everything for them. He always assured you that they loved their dresses and gowns but there was always an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place when he did so. Despite that, you always put everything that you had into it. His family was important and special. All of them were nothing like you. Just a little nobody that had nothing but your little shop to keep you busy.

It wasn’t until three hours later that the High Lord left did you realize just how alone that you truly were. You wished that you had a family like he did but you forced your mind to remember how happy that you were for him. There were so many that you had come across in your life that only had half of what he did and even then, there wasn’t much happiness in it.

The next day, you made your way out to begin your search for the things that you would be able to find in town when you saw someone you recognized. It was one of the High Lady’s sisters but you weren’t sure which one it was. You did your best to not be noticed as the female spoke to another one but you were pretty sure that you wouldn’t be.

“Where did you get your dress, Elain?” the female asked.

“This old thing?” Elain looked down at her dress, one that you had made, with her nose scrunched in distaste. “It came from some nobody seamstress. Rhys has never told us anything else.”

“Well, I think it’s beautiful.” The female’s head tilted slightly with a raised eyebrow. “It seems like you don’t like it.”

“It’s definitely not my favorite,” Elain huffed, scrunching her nose in the process.

Unable to hear anymore of the conversation, you turned and darted back to your shop. So many feelings had hit you all at once and you weren’t sure where to start as you began sobbing once you were in the safety of the building that you also lived in. You began doubting yourself and the work that you loved while also wondering if the male that you considered your friend has been lying to you all of this time.

Even though you had cried yourself to sleep in the early afternoon, you were still unable to pull yourself out of bed the next morning. You could barely hear the knock on the front door but you ignored it. You had already felt like no one of any importance but the words that you had overheard only proved it. Not only was it from a customer but also from someone who would be able to destroy what tiny bit of name that you had for yourself in the city within an instant. Facing Rhysand again would be one of the hardest things that you had to do in a long time but you refused to let him down.

You allowed yourself to mope in bed for the remainder of the day in hopes that you would feel a bit better the next day. No sooner than you opened your store, the bell rang and you felt the High Lord’s power throughout the entirety of the small building.

Azriel had felt a bit frustrated when his brother dragged him out of bed and rushed him through his breakfast. He wasn’t sure what the hurry was, not seeing the big deal in getting fitted for new suits and leathers. In truth, he did need them but he felt as if it could’ve waited until a bit later in the day. His High Lord had a hint of eagerness to him that wasn’t so present unless it came to his mate or son.

He was only annoyed further when they arrived at what he could swear was the smallest shop in the entire city and there was no answer even after Rhysand had all but beat the door down. The store couldn’t even be considered to be in the district where most of the stores were but he was somewhat relieved because he was able to spend the rest of his day as he wanted.

Rhysand did the same thing the following day which had both him and Cassian grumbling about doing the same thing two days in a row. Thankfully, the store was open and his brother walked in as if he owned the place with a small smile on his face.

“Is everything alright?” Rhys asked the female at the front desk hesitantly, a hint of worry in his voice. “We came by as planned but there was no answer.”

“I had some business to take care of,” you muttered, causing him and Cassian to glance at each other in confusion.

Neither of them knew who you were nor even knew of the business that was being run here. He watched carefully as you gathered what was needed and even though you carried yourself in a confident manner, you kept your eyes downcast. It was as if you didn’t have it in you to look them in the eyes. You had obviously done so with his brother but it appeared as if it wasn’t the case today.

From what he could see, he could tell that you were beautiful but what would confirm it the most would be some form of eye contact. He watched you carefully as you started with Cassian, fully committed to doing your job to perfection. You started with his other brother’s legs for his height and he only saw a smirk pulling on Cassian’s lips that he was trying to hold back. For reasons unknown to Azriel, it had him frowning and almost bristling at the sight.

You continued on with your work in silence except for a hum here or there when the High Lord asked you questions as if you didn’t want to speak to any of them. It wasn’t until you moved to him did he truly pay attention to you. He wasn’t sure why but the sight of you on your knees in front of him, with your notebook in hand, had heat creeping onto his face. The quietest snicker came from Cassian who had moved behind him. When he turned to glare at him, he noticed a stern look on Rhysand’s face that had his eyebrows furrowing.

Azriel’s body stiffened when your fingers brushed lightly against him to take other measures. He sucked in a quiet breath when you moved behind him to measure the slits for his wings and your fingers just barely grazed them. It sent a jolt of what felt like electricity through him. He cursed himself silently because it wasn’t the first time that his wings had been touched but there was something about yours that nearly had him wanting more of the contact.

He was slightly disappointed when you were finished too quickly for his liking and moved to Rhysand. You still kept your eyes downcast from all of them and it seemed to have the slightest frown tugging at the High Lord’s lips. Cassian continued to watch as if he too was wondering what was going on.

“Everything should be ready in three weeks if that’s alright,” you said, giving Rhysand the briefest glance before returning to your desk.

Rhys ushered them out quickly and was unusually quiet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that he was brooding. Neither Cassian nor himself knew anything about you so they weren’t sure what to say but his own curiosity got the better of him.

“Who is she?”

“No one for you to be concerned about,” the High Lord answered. “And you will stay away from her.”

He was given a stern glance but he could note the protective fondness in his eyes. It only caused him to wonder more but he kept quiet on the matter.

You were thankful for the time being that you didn’t have a lot of customers. The work of making suits and gowns for seven people would take a while but you were thankful that it gave you a break from your thoughts. You didn’t waste any waking hour, putting your greatest effort into it all in hopes that the gowns would be appreciated more.

A week had passed faster than you had originally imagined that it would and the only break in your concentration was the bell to your shop opening for the second time during the time. You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Rhysand before you, a small frown on his face as he looked down at you.

“As promised, I have come to spend some quality time with the most beautiful seamstress that I know,” he said with a grin that contradicted the caution in his eyes.

“You come to visit or check on my progress?” you asked, eyeing him for a moment before returning your work.

“As I said, I’ve come to visit,” he repeated gently. “Are you alright? You’re acting differently.”

“Fine,” you answered a bit too quickly to be believable.

“I apologize when I say that I do not believe you.” There was a worried frown on his face that made your heart clench and tears almost formed in your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I just..” You trailed off, unsure what to say or how to say it. “Why does it matter? I’m just trying to balance everything.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. There was worried determination on his face and you knew that he wouldn’t let it go but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him what happened. It could possibly cause a divide or rift between the family that you thought so highly of and you couldn’t have that.

“You’re evading,” he replied flatly before his face softened when he gripped your chin lightly to keep your attention on him. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“Your family is very important,” you muttered. “I just want to be sure that I make everything perfectly. There’s so many ideas going through my head and I’m just trying to be sure to keep it all together.”

“You are no less important than any of us.” His matter of fact words paired with his gentle smile had a small one forming on your face as well. “As a matter of fact, you are just as important if not more so than my entire family combines.”

“Why?” You moved out of his grip and stared at him flatly. “Look at m-”

“I do see you. Every single time I come in here.” Rhysand continued with a charming smile that caused you to huff. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why-” You stopped short, reminding yourself to not give into your emotions. “I have Feyre’s gown completed and this one that I’m almost finished with is for Nesta. Do you want to see?”

He nodded with a grin and followed you to a separate room in the back where you kept the outfits that you made. You watched him carefully for his reaction as he stared at the gown and then blew out a silent breath of relief at the genuine smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, turning to grin brightly at you. “She will love it and this just may become her new preferred gown.”

“Promise?” you asked tentatively while you tried to decipher if he was lying or not.

“On my mate’s life,” he answered as a look of adoration etched into his features once again.

“Is there anything that I should change about Amren’s, Mor’s, Nesta’s or..” You swallowed hard, the action not going unnoticed by the High Lord. “Elain’s? I want everything to be absolutely perfect for everyone for such an important event.”

“No.” He shook his head but the certainty in his eyes was answer enough. “I look forward to seeing what the rest look like.”

“I’ve made these my top priority so the leathers-”

“Can wait until you’re finished with these,” he replied. “What they have now will work until later.”

“Okay,” you whispered, gripping onto the kind reassurances to push you through your self deprecating thoughts before he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I wish there was a way to make you realize just how special you are,” he muttered, squeezing tighter to emphasize it. “You remind me so much of my sister.”

Your eyes filled with tears immediately because it was no secret about what happened to his mother and sister. The fact that had such a high opinion of you that he would compare you to someone so important to him had you sobbing. He simply held you until your tears finally ceased and stayed with you for a few hours before returning to his court duties.

By the time that the door shut behind him, you felt a bit better but knew that you would never compare to any of them.

Azriel wasn’t able to keep his mind off of you while they waited for their new suits and gowns for the upcoming ball. He wasn’t sure why but despite his High Lord’s orders, he walked past your shop every so often to simply get a glimpse of you. Only once did he get a full view of your face and it took his breath away as he saw you smile at the only customer that he had noted that you had.

It was reaching the three week mark that you had given his brother and he was itching to ask the High Lord if he would let him retrieve the order. His gut told him that Rhysand wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t sure why you were kept such a tight secret from all of them but Azriel knew that his brother meant it when he had given the order to stay away from you.

“I can’t go with you today.” Azriel stopped just outside of the study, listening to Rhys as he spoke to Cassian. “I have to leave in a couple of hours to pick up our outfits for our trip to Day Court.”

“I don’t understand why none of us-”

“As I’ve said,” the High Lord growled, his voice low and almost deadly. “You need not worry about her.”

“Yea but she-”

“Is not a topic of discussion.”

The snappy tone of their brother had Cassion falling quiet on the topic but Azriel’s curiosity about you wouldn’t let him sit idly by. It was almost as if he was being pulled towards you and he couldn’t ignore it. He slipped out as silently as he had come in and disobeyed Rhysand’s orders. Even though the plan had already been arranged, Azriel wasn’t bothered with the anger that would surely ensue about him taking the initiative that was purely personal.

The bell on your store’s door sounded as he entered but you were so focused on your work that you didn’t notice his presence until he cleared his throat. You jumped from your stool, startled from the noise before you finally looked at him. It felt like the entire world stopped when you both made eye contact and he felt the one thing that he was beginning to believe that he would never have.

Your eyes went wide and you stumbled backwards, tripping over your stool and fell to the ground in surprise as the golden thread connected the two of you. He rushed as fast as he could through the small area, his wings knocking some items over even though his wings were tucked in tightly behind him. A breath of relief escaped him when you didn’t recoil from him when he reached to help you up.

“I- I don’t- What?” you gasped through heavy breaths as you stood.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” he stuttered, unsure what to say since he didn’t know what you were thinking.

“No. Don’t be. I just..” You took a deep breath before fully looking at him again. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Your words barely registered in his mind as he stared back at you, your beauty captivating him the longer that he did so. There were so many things that he wanted to say but at the same time being unsure since he didn’t know you. No sooner than he could open his mouth to reassure you, the front door opened and he felt the High Lord’s power filling the store. His brother was angry beyond belief with him.

“Y/N, would you mind stepping outside for a moment while I have a word with my spymaster.”

Azriel could feel the uncertainty and anger flowing off of you but you nodded after swallowing audibly. Once you were out in the streets, Rhysand had him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him harshly into the wall. There was nothing but pure, unadulterated anger on his brother’s face.

“Did I or did I not tell you to stay away from her?” Rhys growled.

“Yes but-”

“But what, Azriel?” he snapped at him. “Are you simply attracted to females that I insist on you staying away from?”

“It isn’t like that,” he tried. “Why are you so insistent on no one knowing about her? None of us even knew that she existed until now.”

“Because I want to protect her.” Azriel was released before Rhysand took a few steps back. “She reminds me too much of my sister and I refuse to let anything happen to her. If that means keeping all of you clueless to her existence then that is what I will do.”

Azriel’s thought began flooding in all at once, making it hard to keep up with what his shadows were whispering and the things that he wanted to say. He understood now what his High Lord’s motivations were but there was no way that he could let his mate go. Not after finally finding it after the centuries that he had waited for it. As he went to explain what had happened, the door opened again and it had your scent filling the room.

“I don’t want to be the reason that there’s trouble,” you mumbled as you looked at your feet.

“You are not-”

“We’re mates,” Azriel said, interrupting Rhys.

The High Lord’s eyes widened when he swirled around to look at him. There was uncertainty in them while he stared at him before looking back at the female that he held in such high regards. For the first time in a long time, his brother was speechless and Azriel was honestly shocked.

“I don’t deserve it,” you continued, finally looking up with tear filled eyes. “I don’t deserve someone as special and amazing as he is.”

“Why?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“You- All of you-” You paused, taking a deep breath. “You’re all so much better than me to the point that some of my dresses aren’t even liked.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

Your eyes switched between Rhysand and himself before stopping on the former. The tears that began flowing down your face made him unable to not go to you, placing his hands on each cheek in hopes of calming you.

“I heard Elain telling someone that she didn’t like-”

“Screw her and her opinion,” he growled before apologizing when your eyes went wide.

“There is a dress in particular that she isn’t the most fond of,” Rhys answered and you looked around him to gaze at the High Lord. “It is the only one and she simply doesn’t care for certain parts of the style. It has nothing to do with you or how amazing that your work is. It is simply a personal problem.”

“She said I was a nobody,” you sniffled, the words causing his body to shake slightly in anger.

“That’s my fault.” Your brows furrowed at Rhys’s words. “You’re an amazing female and I didn’t want to risk putting you into danger by letting all of them know who you are.”

“But I-”

“Give us a chance,” Azriel whispered, pulling your eyes back to his. “Please.”

“Why don’t we start with the upcoming ball?” Rhys gave you a small smile when you looked at him cautiously. “It’d be a high honor for my shadowsinger to have you by his side.”

“It would,” he agreed.

Your bright smile in return for his words sent his heart fluttering and a rare, genuine smile adorned his face. He knew right then and there that there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on your face.

It was the start of something new that he couldn’t wait to see unfold.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar

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ode2rin · 7 months

Text

SAY YES TO ME ~ ❀ ·˚

𓆩♡𓆪 in which: your husband, reo, just knows exactly how to make you say yes.

For the first time in his life, Reo had never been happier to be the CEO of his company.

He couldn't recall feeling as alive even when he first inherited the position. While he appreciated the benefits and authority, nothing compared to the freedom of controlling his own time.

As soon as the clock struck 12 pm, Reo sprang to his feet, driven by a sense of purpose akin to a man on a mission. His determined strides echoed against the perfectly marbled tiles of his office floor as he made his way to the elevator. It was five hours earlier than his usual clock-out time, but today was an exception.

Because today was Valentine’s Day— and he had better plans than sitting around skimming through papers that hardly made any sense anymore because his mind was already consumed with thoughts of you, as if he didn’t spend most of his time doing exactly that anyway.

Before finally leaving his office floor, Reo made a beeline for his secretary’s desk to ensure the finishing touches were being made according to his instructions.

“Everything must be ready before we arrive,” he declared to his secretary, his tone more of a command than a request. This was serious business, after all. In fact, none of the investor deals he signed earlier this day would measure up to the importance of this one task at hand.

“Yes, sir,” his secretary replied cautiously.

Satisfied, he stepped into the elevator. His eagerness to see you was so evident— anyone can tell. He wasn’t hiding it, not even trying one bit to do so. From the way he pressed the lobby button twice, checked his watch incessantly for the past few hours, and tapped his wingtip against the elevator floor as if its speed could hasten his journey home— everyone can tell that his very own company building was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

Well, he supposed anyone with someone precious waiting for them at home would understand his seemingly pathetic behavior.

Pathetic, lovesick, whipped— you’ve reduced him to every synonym for such.

Not that it concerns him; what's more concerning is that he's not bothered by any perception tied to it. If he hadn't outgrown that teenage angst and was still chasing bits to fuel his ego, then it would have been a different story. He would have been hypersensitive to what bystanders thought of him. Now, older and wiser, he couldn’t care less about what they meant to prying eyes or big tabloids. None of their opinions were yours, so none of them mattered.

The journey back home was tenfold more insufferable than the time spent in the elevator. He kept his eye on his chauffeur in the rear-view mirror, and if he squinted enough, he could see the beads of nervous sweat forming at the poor man’s temple. He sighed to himself, seemingly reprimanding his own improper behavior. Hell, what was happening to him? He wasn't even an impatient man to begin with. All because of Valentine’s Day—all because he couldn’t wait to see you.

He got it real bad, as his longtime best friend would like to say. One he couldn't find it in himself to deny. It was true, anyway.

He didn't know when or where it started, but one random night four years ago, he woke up in a cold sweat, and the realization that he was hell deep in love with you gnawed on his center to his throat. So in love it set his heart on fire, all while being in love with the one person who lit the match.

Rumors were true— love never aligned with logic, intricate planning, none of what he excelled at as a businessman. And so, he abandoned logic and acted exactly as his heart had been urging him to.

The very moment the sun peeked over the horizon that fateful day, he was on his feet, his jet waiting to fly him to wherever the finest diamond engagement rings reside.

It was the best decision he had ever made in his life because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be standing at the entrance of your shared home, his grin widening with each approaching step he hears. You’re bustling around the house just to welcome him home—so, no, he couldn’t have it any other way. The mere thought of doing things differently made his heart leap into his throat, while a hollow feeling settled in his chest.

“Love! Welcome home!” you greet him, your lively voice warming Reo’s heart as it makes its way to him.

Even before you could throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss him senselessly to welcome him home, you're met with a bundle of red roses he had taken from his back.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” you blushed, resembling the vibrant flowers he bought on the way home.

“Nothing is ever a bother when it comes to you,” he mused, big amethyst eyes sparkling back at you.

Ever the sweet talker, you looked at your husband who was now peering over you and the roses you’re cradling.

“Okay, Mr. Charming. To what occasion do I owe this?” you play pretend, your voice tinged with playful curiosity.

Instead of an immediate response, you felt his hands traveling to the small of your back, pulling you close against his embrace. His lips grazed your cheek, before whispering in your ear, “Be my Valentine?”

Here he goes again, you thought. “I’ve been married to you for the last four years, if I remember correctly,” you pointed out to him, keeping your smile to yourself.

That’s not a yes. Huffing, Reo pulled back from your hug to look you in the eye, “Your point being? There are no rules in marriage that say I can no longer ask you on Valentine’s day– if I remember correctly,” and he even had the pettiness to mock your tone.

“Wow, my husband is a bit sassy today, isn’t he?”

My husband, he repeats in his mind, and just like that, all sassiness and pettiness came flying straight out of the window. “I love being your husband,” he blurted out, totally unrelated to your previous banter.

“Oh, really, now?” you teased, feigning the warmth it sent to your chest.

He does, truly and definitely. A man like him is widely known for what he has– for the possessions under his name and for the power it holds. Yet here he was, wrapped around your arms, and suddenly, being your husband has been the best he has been called and known for.

There was no weight, no expectations, and no pressure tied to it— just love dripping in every letter. There’s no one he would rather be.

“Yeah, am I doing a great job?” smiling at you, he asks, “I’m not losing the charms, am I?”

“Trust me, you’re very much good at it,” you fondly brushed the strands of hair covering his eyes, “and you’re not losing the charms,” you quoted.

“Really? So if I were to ask again, would you say yes?”

“With or without your ‘charms’, you know exactly how to make me say yes.”

Reo let out a hearty laugh at your remark. “You’re right,” his fingers reached out to your left ring finger, where his oath of forever lay glimmering.

God— he really did that. He put a ring on it. It was his name next to yours, his rings on your hand, his bed you share, and his forever you spend with. Four years and more to come, but Reo was certain he would never get over it.

Before his rationality left him and wrecked his own plans, Reo caressed your back, his hands moving dangerously low down your hip and giving it a squeeze, “Still wanna hear it from you though,” he mumbled softly against your lips, “So, what do you say in letting this poor man take you on a date as his valentine?”

You drew closer to his hold, your arms finding their place around his neck, hands occupied with the flowers now resting on his back, “I say,” you pressed your lips as if trying to think, “I’d like some kiss and maybe hear a please first—”

You couldn’t even finish teasing him because in a heartbeat, Reo closed the distance, seizing your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss drowning out the sound of words with an intensity that left no room for second guessing his invitation. Nothing about Mikage Reo was silent and subtle– not even when he kissed you. It had to be breathless, deep, urgent, and parting your lips in surrender.

His hands found their way, trailing with purpose along your spine, while his other traced the curve of your jaw with a feather-light touch. Teasing fingers then tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, desperate for more.

He pulled back first, leaving you light-headed. He flashed you one smirk, lips almost melting into yours.

“Please?”

Fuck. You didn’t need to be asked thrice. You nodded your head aimlessly, earning a chuckle from him. “Go then, pack some clothes. Our jet is waiting for us.”

“Jet? Did you mean car?” Where the hell was he taking you to use a jet for?

Seemingly reading the question on your face, he answered, “I know what I said, love. We’re going to Paris.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, squirming from his hold completely, “We could just dine somewhere close, Reo.”

Now, who told you he only had dinner in mind? Who did you take him for? You shouldn’t be surprised anymore— there’s nothing in this world that would come close to the satisfaction he got from spending lavishly on you. It was a reminder that he could and most certainly would give you everything you wanted. “You don’t like Paris?”

You tried to reason, heavy on the try so it seemed because you soon realized it was a mistake clarifying your point, “I mean, I do but—”

“I think I heard enough, love,” a sheepish smile formed on his lips, “I’ll wait for you here, alright?”

You rolled your eyes at him before retreating to your shared bedroom to prepare for freaking Paris. Of course, you're going. There’s really no winning against him, you’ve known that ever since. He longed to prove to you that he always had the irresistible charm of making you say yes.

Not that you'd ever thought of saying no. The ring weighing your finger down could attest to that.

note. been seeing people saying their partners no longer ask them valentines bec they're tgt alr... reo would never do that btw do better

another note (pls tolerate me). i'm pretty sure i'm fighting for my life when this gets posted (it's qd!!) so here's me wishing all of you a happy hearts day 🩷

#💌 valentine's special '24 #mikage reo #reo mikage #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo fluff #mikage reo x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff

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kumkaniudaku · 4 days

Text

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?"

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down."

"Why? You like grapes."

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background.

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest.

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need."

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect.

"You see how that was childish?"

"Whatever."

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying.

"Get that one."

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath.

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register."

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes.

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs.

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face.

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl.

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that.

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car."

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy."

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach.

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary.

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?"

"Same time next week."

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner.

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?"

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you."

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!"

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics.

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy."

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers.

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line.

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!"

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake.

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?"

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack.

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while."

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off."

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!"

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship.

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships."

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn.

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time.

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom.

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience."

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines.

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance."

"That'd be grand."

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron.

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious.

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?"

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV.

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space.

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave."

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt.

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities.

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket.

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge.

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!"

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way.

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe.

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game.

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault."

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed.

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience.

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them.

"Treece! Terry! We over here!"

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three.

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation.

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?"

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things."

"Contract?"

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat.

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week."

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?"

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose."

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them.

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit."

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot.

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?"

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs."

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level."

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult.

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone."

"They talk?"

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?"

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued.

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it."

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then."

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was."

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food.

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world.

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music.

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you."

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping."

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed.

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world.

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach.

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?"

"Of what?"

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road.

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again.

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure.

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body.

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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middle-earth-mythopoeia · 1 year

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The movie dialogue could never measure up to this:

“But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.”

How could anyone cut this?! How?! How?!?!?!?! These lines are so incredibly stirring, so powerful, so moving. “I am no man” doesn’t even come close.

First of all, I like that the negative statement of “No living man am I” is followed by the positive statement of “You look upon a woman.” It’s direct and definitive. She’s been disguised as Dernhelm up until this point—another thing that was cut from the movie—but now she’s revealing who she really is.

Second, in a similar way, I like that she says, “Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter.” It’s like a challenge. It’s like announcing one’s identity before a duel—which is in effect what she is doing.

Third, “You stand between me and my lord and kin.” This reminds me of one of the most poignant quotes from the book: “I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” It’s very important that Éowyn did this brave deed out of a desire to protect Théoden.

Finally, “Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.” THIS IS LITERALLY SO AMAZING! THIS IS SO COURAGEOUS! I CAN’T EVEN EXPRESS HOW THIS MAKES ME FEEL! I don’t know which part is better—the fact that she threatens him, or that she gives him the choice to forfeit and flee the battlefield.

There’s an incredible heroic resoluteness to the final line, “For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.” This, right here, is the essence of the courage of mortals in Tolkien’s books. It’s the acceptance of death, but the desire to go down fighting—the knowledge that death is inevitable, but the one thing we have control over is how we meet it.

Éowyn is facing Sauron’s most powerful servant, who is almost a personification of death itself, and she is declaring that no matter what he is, and no matter the outcome, she WILL fight him. When she says these lines, she doesn’t know that she and Merry will vanquish him. It’s sheer determination against impossible odds, it’s extraordinary courage in the face of death—and THAT is why this scene is so powerful.

#lotr #eowyn #my writing

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withloveajaxx · 2 years

Text

are you forgetting something?

𓂅 genre: modern! childe, scaramouche, diluc, and xiao x gn! reader fluff

𓂅 warnings: none

𓂅 summary: how they react when you forget to kiss them or say "i love you" back to them before you leave

𓂅 notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONEE. here's some smol hcs to kick off 2023 hehe. i've never really written for scaramouche before so forgive me if his characterization is a little off for this fic :"D i'm trying to slowly get back into writing for genshin so i'm going with a classic, fluffy crack prompt that i've always felt like writing ^^ hope you guys enjoy and have a wonderful day ahead!!

CHILDE

he's dropping you off at your friend's house for your little night out and your rushing to belatedly make yourself a little more presentable

childe can't help but chuckle when you turn to him asking, "what do you think? do i look alright?"

"you look beautiful as always, love. now go get in there before your late."

he leans his cheek closer to you, expecting a goodbye peck when you open the door to get out. "take care and call me when you need to get picked up, alright?" when you hum in response he adds, "love you!"

"yup! see you, ajax!" you reply, getting out and shutting the door. at this, childe is offended, jaw dropping at the lack of a reply and a kiss.

he thinks this is completely unacceptable. mans literally honks his horn aggressively until you come back to the car, brows furrowed in wordless confusion.

"excuse me?" he questions you, rolling down the window with a faux pout on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. "are you forgetting something?"

cheeky bastard taps his cheek with raised brows in part question and part demand. "i said i love you too, you know?"

you can't help but laugh at his absurd behaviour, leaning into the window to finally plant a kiss on his awaiting cheek. his charming smile finally makes its way back onto his features when you accompany your gesture with a, "love you too."

"mhm. now get in there and have fun. i'll see you later, love.". he can't help the slight blush that dusts his freckle filled cheeks when you peck him one last time, just for good measure, before heading inside the house. god he was so whipped for you.

SCARAMOUCHE

when you're rushing to leave your shared apartment for a class you were running late for one day, scara is suffering on the couch with his laptop on, research document open and empty.

he eyes you as you're rushing to gather all your bags and other belongings, making sure you don't trip or hurt yourself in a rush from a distance.

once you finally have all your things, you turn to see scara, who is already glaring at the blank document on his laptop.

in usual fashion, he hears you greet him a goodbye with, "i'm heading out now. see you later, kuni."

in an unusual fashion however, he doesn't hear the familiar and cheerful "i love you!" that escapes your lips once you open the door.

he coughs loudly and repeatedly when you put even a single foot out the door and levels you with a look that screams "are you stupid?"

"what?" you ask him obliviously, rechecking all your bags and documents before also asking, "am i forgetting something?"

"yeah. a really important thing," he comments with an unreadably, deadpan face. when a confused silence is all he gets in reply, he sighs, narrowing his eyes at you with a light blush blooming across his cheeks.

"don't make me say it.". it's only then that you realize what you forgot, smiling and laughing lightheartedly with amusement.

"you're cute kuni." his cheeks flush brighter at the statement. "i love you and take care!". he returns your greeting with an exasparated sigh and a light nod before you go rushing out the door, unable to witness the smallest smile that creeps onto his lips.

DILUC

it's a daily routine for you guys to get ready for school/work together and greet each other with a goodbye kiss once you part ways.

on a particular day when you had a really important presentation, the walk to your usual parting point was enveloped in a comfortable silence.

diluc simply held your hand and let you practice your presentation, muttering unintelligible words and phrases under your breath.

when you finally get to parting ways, diluc takes a moment to encourage you for your presentation.

"good luck with your speech today, darling. i know you can do it. i'll see you when i get home alright?"

you nod absentmindedly, smiling before routinely pecking diluc's cheek. "mhm. have a good day, luc."

when you start to walk away, he grabs your wrist gently and unexpectedly, turning you to face him once more.

"yes, luc?" you ask curiously, intertwining your fingers with his own gingerly.

"you're forgetting something, love," he chuckles lightly, squeezing your intertwined hands gently. "i love you."

a soft smile adorns both your features as you give diluc a lingering kiss before replying with your own "i love you", regrettingly parting ways afterwards.

XIAO

both you and xiao are walking into the school's campus. after a mundane lunch, it was time for both of you to part ways and get to classes.

he accompanies you to your class, walking with you hand in hand in the school's surprisingly free hallways.

the short stroll is accompanied by a comfortable silence, the lack of a crowd of students creating a peaceful atmosphere.

it's only when you arrive at your lecture hall that xiao loosens his hold on your hand, gesturing for you to go inside.

your friends are excitedly waving at you from the other side of the hall, thus you hurry to get to them.

"i'll see you later, okay?" you squeeze his hand reassuringly before looking at your friends with a glimmer of excitement. "bye, xiao!"

the moment you let go of his hand without your usual goodbye kiss or at least an 'i love you', his hand subconsciously reaches out for yours once again.

thankfully, you take notice of his action and turn to him once more with a quizzical look on your face. "is something wrong?" you ask him.

he wants to say something about you forgetting to give him a kiss but the thought of saying something so sappy makes his face heat up in embarrassment. you can tell he wants to say something by the unsure look in his eyes, but he holds himself back, shaking his head. "nothing. you should head to class."

the blush gives him off entirely because you can read him like an open book. his heart skips multiple beats when you lean in and plant a brief kiss on his cheek with a wide smile. "there. love you, and see you later, okay?". his cheeks flare up even more as he replies, "mhm. love you too…"

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chvnnie · 1 year

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just some dad!skz thoughts for y’all

a little suggestive here and there, and because of that, MINORS DNI

bang chan - first daughter only

Definitely was the first to have a kid in the group. Spoiled is not a good enough word — his eldest daughter is like royalty in the group. If they know the baby is going to be around, somebody has something to give her.

Religiously watches hair tutorials (one screen has his mixing board, while the other is playing YouTube videos on loop) so he’s ready when she asks him to braid her hair. Has practice on you, Hyunjin, himself. They’re going to be perfect, because she deserves nothing less. The first braid is a little sloppy, but no one has the heart the tell him.

Travel crib folded up in his office, tucked behind the couch just in case. Everyone has used it.

If his little family goes on tour with them, or even just the local shows, he’ll make sure she has a set of headphones. Walks around to check mics with her in his arms.

It took him six weeks to find the perfect car seat for her. No, he’s not being picky. He’s being safe.

Keeps a mini diaper bag on him at all times. You’ll never catch him slacking.

When it comes to you, he’s the most devoted husband. Helps you postpartum, continually encourages to take days off. Reminds you daily how much he loves you, cherishes you, and always takes time to make you feel beautiful. (People sex after child is nearly impossible, but Chan is determined to make it possible.)

Very hesitant about co-sleeping until she’s old enough. Would even say he’s almost anti. But when she falls asleep on his bare chest, and the tv is playing at a low volume, and he’s just really, really tired. Your heart beams at the sight of them, matching expressions, snores coming from the both. You snap a bunch of pictures — it’s his favorite set.

lee minho

Protective? Please. Don’t offend him with that word — it’s not strong enough. If someone even breathes the wrong way in her direction, he’s ready to take measures to insure it will never happen again.

No. He won’t tell you what kind of measures.

He loves bath time. The little sink seat, the bubbles. When his daughter gets good motor skills, he loves the way she always reaches for the duck. Clutching it in her little fist, giggling with her father puts bubbles on its head.

Makes his own baby food. Why would he waste money on that canned stuff when he has fresh vegetables at home? Tsk. His blender is his best friend.

Has a whiteboard on the fridge with a list of what she likes (BIG YES for strawberries, or any berry mix, squash, sweet potatoes. HARD NO when it comes to bananas and anything green). Likes to introduce her early to foods, letting her explore.

Has taken Doongie out of her crib more than once. Caught her trying to feed Dori once. Always reaches for Soonie when she sees him past. Minho’s heart warms at his first babies loving on his new baby (even though she cried the first time Dori licked her cheek).

Daily family walks. It’s important to make sure she gets sunshine, and the fresh air is good for everyone. Always wants to push the stroller, but doesn’t complain when you reach for it.

Shower sex has become a habit, but he won’t complain about it. When you have a clingy baby, you take any opportunity you get. So pinning you the glass door happens more than it did before.

Fondly refers to you as “his girls”. It brings him so much pride that this is his family.

seo changbin — twins only

When the ultrasound showed two babies, he’s surprised he didn’t pass out. He got close though; the cold sweats, ringing in his ears, chills. Two babies? At once? Is it possible to be shaking with excitement but also absolute terror at the same time?

Your pregnancy wasn’t easy. The boys were heavy, and you found yourself on bed rest more often than not. Changbin wouldn’t tell you, but he was on edge the entire time. Seeing you so exhausted, so ready to get out of bed but unable to — he felt so useless. Even though he never left your side, making sure you had everything you could want and were as comfortable as possible, he hated himself for doing this to you.

And to top it all off, they were late. Of course they were. “They just love you so much, they don’t want to leave.” He tried to make you feel better, kissing your stomach, wiping your tears. Held your hand during the c-section, nose pressed to your forehead. Whispering every encouraging word he could think of to ease your fear, like he wasn’t drowning in his own.

When they finally arrive earth side? Oh, you both agree. It was all worth it.

They’re identical. The only difference are their eyes — one has yours, the other his. It was your idea to assign them colors (one is yellow, two is grey). Thank God for it too, because when they’re sleeping, he has no option but to guess.

Not a single second is taken for granted, but Changbin won’t lie and say the first year was his favorite. No, it’s when their personalities start to develop that he loved the most.

One really, really loves trucks. Is loud, runs through the apartment without a care. When he inevitably crashes into something, he bounces back up. Tiny feet carrying him away from the injury, like there isn’t a scrap on his forehead (isn’t a fan when Changbin chases him down to clean the wound).

Two prefers a quieter day. Sitting on the couch, eating yogurt bites as he watches his twin hit the wall. He’s low maintenance, most of the time, but when he gets upset? Oh, how the world is ending. Clings to Mama as he sobs. It’s so hard to be him.

Both, though, love musical instruments. Changbin’s favorite purchase (much to your dismay) is the tiny drum set he got them for their first birthday. One is a big fan of that, while Two stays on the toy piano. Their room filled with music all the time.

Has taken them to the studio a few times. Lets them watch as he and Chan work on songs, plays with Jisung when they’re getting a little rowdy. Eventually, they crash on the couch (along with Uncle Ji) before they can even record vocals.

Two is better than one. Whoever said that wasn’t lying.

hwang hyunjin — youngest daughter only

There’s no doubt. She is Hyunjin’s child.

Copy and paste. Down to the freckle under the eye, she literally looks just like him. Put their baby pictures side to side and have fun trying to figure out which is which.

She learned his scowl within the first year, when you tried to get her to try applesauce. The side eye was intense as she pushed the cup off her tray and called “Pup Pup” for Kkami to clean the mess.

Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious. Until you give him the same side eye, then his lips are sealed.

For both children, he got custom made rings. Birth stone pressed into a thin gold band, engraved with their birth flowers. Both children have one just the same, but adjustable, so they don’t grow out of it. He wears hers on his right middle finger — and what mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does.

Once, when she was still small enough to fit perfectly in a body carrier, her daycare was closed for the day. Water leak. Her brother was sick with the flu, and didn’t want you to leave his side. So Hyunjin took the youngest to work with him that day, completely forgetting that it was a dance practice day. Chan told him it was fine to push it a day, but they were already behind. Besides, the carrier is tight. One hand on her tiny body, he keeps her firm against his chest so she doesn’t bounce much.

After that, bringing her to practice became a habit. Especially after she started taking dance lessons.

What mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does. Down to the movement of her feet, trying to keep up with even the most intense choreos.

When asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she always says Papa.

Bonus: you’re swimming in crafts. The two of them always up to something in Hyunjin’s home studio, painting and crafting the most beautiful art pieces you’ve ever been gifted.

han jisung

Oh. Oh, how do you begin to try to put a love like this into words?

Smothered. Smothered in kisses and snuggles all day long — and not just from him. Not to be biased or anything, but you’re both convinced she’s the best baby in the entire world. Look at those cheeks and try to convince you two otherwise.

Oh, you can’t.

And she’s the happiest little thing. Always giggling, so friendly, chatting up a storm with her babble. That baby doesn’t know a stranger; she’ll smile and wave at everyone.

Out of all the Kids’ kids, she’s at the company the most. Waltzing down the halls with her sippy like she owns the place, right behind her father. Naps on the practice room couch. Steals snacks from the cafeteria. Cut her a check, she’s put in some hard fucking work.

Speaking of naps — when Jisung is home, he’s always napping with her. When the clock strikes 12:45 in the afternoon, they’re both changing into nap time clothes and crawling in the giant bed. Soft music lulling them to sleep until his alarm goes off.

Has almost too many Quokkas. Which is ironic considering her skzoo bias is Leebit (Minho has been working on this since he was made aware of her existence, seeing his hard work pay off is delightful — until his daughter starts to grow a little too fond of her Quokka).

Mirror selfies. So. Many. Mirror selfies. He takes one monthly, saving them on his computer to document growth. Cries as he sorts through them every birthday.

She’s a heavy sleeper. Even as a newborn, she slept through the night with ease. Rarely does she wake up, and if she does, she can typically put herself back to sleep. Which is great, considering the second Bluey is off, so are your pants.

The dilf energy >>> something about becoming a father has made your husband even hotter. More intense in the bedroom, devoting time he doesn’t have to making sure you feel worshipped. Once he spent two hours between your legs — safe to say walking was difficult the next day.

Jisung desperately wants another baby. But that thought is always overpowered when she looks at him — why would you want more when she’s already perfect?

lee felix

House is literally never tidy. Organized chaos at best, but two kids under three make it impossible to keep up with chores. Felix tries — wakes up before you to wash the dishes, gets the majority of the mess cleaned before the little monsters wake up. But in a flash, it’s messy again.

Not that he minds. Or you. As long as the kids are happy and healthy, you can live with papers on the table or toys scattered across the house (except for that morning Felix tripped over one on the way downstairs. He’s doesn’t think that scar will ever fade).

Started prep on a Mother’s Day present MONTHS ago and is incredibly serious about it. The moment he has the kids alone, he’s scrambling. Color this, glue that, just like chill out for 30 second — he knows the paint is cold but the handprints are an essential part of this craft.

He’s had to redo the handprints seven times. But who’s counting?

It’s a recipe book, all the treats thought of by the oldest. Felix helped her write it, the youngest scribbled on some paper, and ta-da! Is it barely holding together? Sure, but you don’t care. Your heart is swelling, tears forming at the care that’s been put into it.

When you mentioned putting the kids in swim lessons, he was almost offended. “We bought this house specifically for the pool. No, I can teach them.” And, true to his word, as soon as the weather is warm, all three are out there daily. Sunscreen from head to toe, new freckles forming on all their faces. Sometimes you join them, but most of the time you just watch them fall deeper in love with each other.

Don’t ask me to explain this — but he SCREAMS airport dad.

Always there way too early, the oldest strapped to his back. Rushes your family through security — “How many times have we done this?” He’s gentle, but the annoyance is obvious to everyone but his daughter, who is grinning up at him. “Shoes off.” — stands in front of the giant screens with arrivals/departures. Hands on his hips, squinting slightly.

“Well it’s a good thing we didn’t book at 9:00 AM, aye, babe?” He shakes his head. “Definitely would have missed that one!”

Tracks the flight on his phone. Knows about delays before the pilots even do

at this point I’m just describing my own father

Is a PRO at soothing the baby on the plane. Standing out of the aisle, tucked in the back as he bounces him. Shushing him as he slides a pacifier in. Soothed and sleeping in under five minutes.

Honestly the most stereotypical dad of the group, and he fucking loves it.

kim seungmin

Last of the group to marry, last to have kids. By the time his son is born, Chan and Changbin already have three. Seungmin doesn’t really see the rush — good things take times.

And oh, is he the best thing.

The most organized nursery you’ve ever seen; all the baby hangers match, clothes sorted by season, then by color. Dresser drawers labeled so everything goes back where it belongs.

Prefers cloth diapers to disposable. Sure, the water bill is high, but do you know how long diapers take to breakdown? No thanks. Cloth works fine.

No, hand sanitizer doesn’t “do the same thing”. If you want to hold the baby, wash your damn hands. If he even lets you hold him. Fucking hand sanitizer, the audacity—

Every time he speaks to his son, he signs what he is saying. Getting him familiar with the hand motions, so when his motor skills develop, he can copy.

Has a good grip in sign language, and Korean, and English by age four.

But honestly, he doesn’t care about any of that. Good skills to have, but Seungmin is endlessly proud of his son. Found a smooth rock and gave it to him? Best gift ever. Messed up a word in Korean because he confused it with the English equivalent? That’s okay, it’s hard sometimes!

Everything his son does deserves to be recognized.

Lets him check his mic. Little fists wrapped around it, the five year old beaming as running over to Jisung’s daughter. Who is doing the exact same thing.

Intentionally involves him in every aspect of his life. Just because he has a time consuming job, doesn’t mean he’ll lose out on time with him.

Thinks you’re the reason the word milf exists. Because damn. Seungmin already found it hard to keep his hands off you, but something about watching you be a mom? Oof.

Literally could be just packing your son’s lunch after he’s gone to bed and he’s standing at the kitchen entrance. Wide eyes and mouth dry.

“What’s that look for?”

And then you’re bent over the counter with your panties stuffed in your mouth.

Kinda has a breeding kink now?

But, fuck, have you seen you? Can you blame him?

Never really thought he wanted more than one kid, but with you? Oh, he wants a million more.

yang jeongin

Goes without saying, but. Matching outfits.

Started with just shoes, but over time, the collection has grown. Sometimes they match on accident even — there’s so much crossover in their closets.

When you feel left out, Jeongin takes his son to pick out an outfit special for the three of you. Wraps it up, has the little boy excitedly wake you up with the present.

Speaking of present, this kid has the most elaborate birthday parties. Jeongin does NOT play around; planning starts about six months out, and even then it’s a rush to get everything ready.

Your son looks forward to it more than any other holiday. And can you blame him? When it seems like the entire world is celebrating him?

Since the party is big, the presents are modest. If he gets too many, they go in a special closet. He’ll get to open one a week, not wanting him to get too entitled when it comes to gifts.

Always, always wants to sleep in bed with the two of you.

He’s a little snuggle bug, getting right in between you and Jeongin, desperate to be close at times. Not that either of you mind, for the most part.

But damn, have you guys become skilled when it comes to quickies. In the shower, in the car before heading to pick up, in an empty practice room while Hyunjin teaches a mini dance camp to the Kids’ kids.

Probably the biggest airplane parent, but only when it comes to safety. He’s so worried about his son getting injured, sometimes he has to remind himself that it’s okay for kids to push boundary.

That doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t drop when he asks if he can sign up for soccer.

dad!skz really is my fucking weakness—

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thekidsarentalright · 5 months

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patrick saying his we made it moment is seeing people stay for saturday is making me feel sooo insanely emotional because it’s like. such a personal metric of success?? like. saturday was never a big hit, but they chose to end every show with it years ago anyways. even when they could see people leaving during it, they chose to keep playing it. because it meant something to Him and to Them, and to the diehard fans too. and just imagining, as time goes on, seeing people choosing to stay. actively seeing peoples opinions and hearts change over time and decide that its worth it to stay, to feel the love and importance that song holds for the band. it’s beyond just a symbolic show that your music is resonating with people and making it into their hearts- people staying Literally shows that. all us believers still believe everytime we sing two more weeks, y’know? and with every show, maybe they’re picking up more believers. and That is how patrick measures his success— in how many people are choosing to believe and to stay.

#sorry for the long ramble i just got to thinking abt it and that is just truly such a beautiful personal way to quantify success #is how many people show up and stay. crowds are won and lost and won again but our hearts beat for the diehards #and theyre constantly gaining more diehards. theyre constantly getting people to care. god #just by being their authentic true selves!!! by doing what they want and what they love!!! augh!!!#txt #p: 100

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rahuratna · 3 months

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Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 7

Contents: relationship, establishing feelings, slow burn, office kisses.

Warning: Things get a little ... spicier from here on out. Content warnings will be given for the relevant chapters.

You lingered with him in the little alcove, listening to the rhythm of his breath in the grooves of your ear. You lingered on the stairs leading back to the car. You traced the elusive outline of his fingers with yours, again and again, committing them to memory. There were no words passed between the two of you, from the moment he'd kissed you outside the restaurant, until you parted ways outside your apartment. There was no need for words. Neither of you wanted to break the spell that this evening had cast upon you.

When he finally said goodbye, the hoarseness of his voice, the softness of it, was enough to tell you how much he wanted, how much leaving you there was costing him. It was the same in your mind, of course. Discipline, control over desires, the measuring of love in increments until some vital point was reached, what was the need for it all?

You'd happily open your front door to him, lead him into a place you'd make sure he'd never want to leave. And yet, there was still something holding you back. It must be the same for him. Something that had been slinging you both in natural trajectories, the orbit of celestial bodies that slowly swayed each other's tides until the season came for you to be closer than ever.

You could be patient for this. You could watch this sweet, gentle unfolding between the two of you, as patiently as a predator in ambush. If nature was to take its course, then it was well worth the wait.

The way Kento walked you to your door without touching you, but then snatched up your fingers and pressed them to his lips, told you how much he valued your time together. It wasn't so much that he had kissed your fingers, it was more like he was committing the feel of them to his lips, as if he'd drink from the sensation on every night he'd spend without you.

Until the night it wouldn't be necessary any longer.

He began to make an effort, of course, to bind your lives more fully together. The things that were important to him were things he wanted to share with you. Sometimes, those moments of sharing were performed unconsciously on his part, in ways that made you want to take his face between your palms and plant soft kisses on his eyelids.

On one fateful afternoon, he'd purchased some specialty mochi from a store near where he'd been posted for duty. He knew how much you loved them freshly made, with red bean filling.

You hadn't seen him for almost a week at this point, messaging him regularly to check up on his safety and whether he was eating and sleeping on time. He always replied promptly, unless deeply occupied with something.

When he strode into your office that evening, the small parcel in one hand, tie slightly askew, you knew he'd rushed to catch the last train to be here. Jujutsu Tech vehicles were not always on call at this time. You stood and beamed at him, watching his shoulders relax and the tension that hung about his face disappear.

At work, you both were very careful to keep gestures of affection to a minimum. Not that you were concealing what was growing between you. It was simply a matter of not wanting anyone else to intrude on the moments between you that were truly special. Nanami couldn't help himself, though.

Drawn across the room, as if in each other's magnetic pull, you both met halfway, his hands coming up to enclose your own. You gently extricated one of them and brushed it lightly over his forehead, smoothing out some of the lines there.

"What's this in the bag?"

"Mochi. The kind you like."

"You should have gone home and rested. The mochi could wait."

The soft smile you were giving him took the edge off your strict words.

"Hmm. But it was fresh. I saw them stocking the shelves."

"Come, sit. I'll make you some tea."

He sank onto the couch set to one side of the room with a sigh, loosening his tie. Unable to help yourself, now that he was in your presence, you traced the line of his jaw delicately on your way to the kettle. Kento leaned slightly into your touch. He didn't have to tell you how much he'd missed you.

The kettle was soon boiling merrily while you prepared the cups and saucers. You kept many different tea blends in your office, and you knew, by now, which ones he preferred. You could feel his gaze tracing down, over your shoulders and back, down to your hips and then to your fingers on the smooth porcelain.

He insisted that the mochi was for you, and that he wouldn't eat any of it. Kento could be as stubborn as a bull when it came to things like this. Sighing slightly, you took a sip of your own tea, then a bite of the mochi, Kento's eyes now following the shape of your lips over the rim of his cup.

You almost choked.

Now this was unexpected. Glancing down, you desperately fought the urge to burst into laughter when you realized what had happened. He'd purchased mochi filled with natto instead of red beans. In his rush, he must have got them mixed. Natto wasn't a common filling either, but this was a specialty shop, so it must have been made on the day.

"Something wrong?"

"Not at all. They're so soft and fresh. It's been a while since I've had any like this."

"Oh?"

He looked so pleased with himself that you silently patted yourself on the back for managing to conceal that so well. At that moment, the door to the office burst open and Gojo strolled in. Tall and charismatic as ever, he glanced around, gaze almost traveling right over you as he focused on the target of his attention.

"Nanami! Why are you holed up in here? I've been looking for you all over. Where's the report?"

The tension lines on Kento's forehead were back in full force.

"I'm attempting to sit down and take a break after a long day, as you can clearly see."

Gojo grinned and knocked Kento's knee with his shin.

"Okay, Mister Grump. But where's the report?"

"Filed with Ijichi, obviously. I always send my paperwork in first thing. You know this."

Gojo clicked his tongue and Kento's eye twitched alarmingly.

"Why you gotta be so proper. Now I have to go find Ijichi."

"You could have - "

"Ooohh, what's this?"

To your immense alarm, Gojo had spotted the mochi. Everyone and their grandmother knew about the special grade sorcerer's penchant for all things sweet. You attempted to push them aside slowly.

"Uh, you don't want these. They're - "

"Huh?" He pointed at you, scandalized. "Are you trying to keep them all to yourself?"

"What? No, I - "

Kento stood and folded his arms in a manner that showed just how much he meant business.

"Gojo, leave those mochi alone."

"Oh hell no. You go all the way to the mochi store I've been dying to go to all week, and you don't even get me any? What kind of friend are you?"

Before either of you could stop him (for very different reasons) he grabbed one of the mochi and popped it into his mouth. He chewed happily before stopping suddenly, face crumpling, gagging slightly.

"What the hell? Why is there natto in these?"

Kento turned, very slowly, in your direction. Studiously avoiding his gaze, you cleared your throat.

"That was at my request. I love natto mochi. That's why I tried to stop you from eating them."

Grabbing your half-full cup of tea, Gojo took a large gulp in an attempt to wash away the flavour.

"Natto mochi? Why? Just .... why? Oh, never mind. Thanks for trying to stop me anyway. Oi, Nanamin, you owe me some strawberry mochi for next time, okay?"

So saying, the whirlwind that was Gojo exited your office, footsteps shuffling away on the floor outside. You examined your fingernails. Kento's gaze was burning into the back of your head.

"Ahem. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"No?"

"Why didn't you tell me these were natto?"

"I like natto."

"Liar."

You huffed out a small laugh, finally meeting his disapproving expression with a mischievous one.

"Fine. I'm not a fan of natto. But you were so happy to give them to me, Kento. I just wanted to see you smiling and looking relaxed for a change, so I - "

Before you could utter another word, he had plucked the glasses away from his face with a decisive motion and taken two strides into your space, his arms coming up and surrounding you in an embrace that pulled you like a vice into his chest.

"Kento?"

Your voice was a little shaky, not in an unpleasant way, as he leaned forward without hesitation, tilting his head. You swiftly dodged away, your breathless laugh mingling with his own unsteady breathing.

"The door isn't closed all the way. And I've just... wait! I've just eaten natto, you - "

His mouth was positively hungry on yours this time. Regardless of whatever flavour was lingering there, he was pushing you back until the desk collided with your thighs, his hand coming up to grasp and tilt your face until your mouth fell open helplessly against his. He was licking into you like a man starved, pausing in between to whisper to you about how he'd missed you, how he wanted you, how you looked so beautiful today and now his lips were on your throat, then on your mouth again, teeth knocking against yours, clumsy in his passion. There was something so fierce, uncontrolled, so primal about the way he was touching you, as if every restraint he had placed on himself (and by extension, yourself) had come crashing down among the rapidly narrowing spaces between your bodies.

Your hands were on his shoulders, and it probably looked as if you were trying to push him off you, but you were actually bracing yourself as something warm and molten started to run straight down the middle of your body, making you hyper-sensitive to his touch, to the feel of him on you. He was so large, so warm, so solid, the ripple of sinew against underlying muscle so evident under your fingers. You could run your hands over him like this forever, mapping out every new delight he laid bare for you.

Something like sanity was beginning to make itself known to the both of you now, the awareness of where you were, of the rules of propriety, and Kento removed his mouth from yours with a twist of his neck, looking away from you, breathing hard. He was now murmuring a soft apology, but you weren't having it. You covered his mouth with your hand and tugged slightly, making him look at you again, forcing him to take in your appearance, as he'd left you. He was none the better.

You removed your hand and took him in, the flushed cheeks, the blonde strands coming down around his ears, the glazed molten honey of his eyes and moistened lips. This man was so beautiful, he'd be the death of you. You told him so, and he gave a small, slightly disbelieving chuckle. But you let him read the truth in your regard of him all the same, the way you were drinking in the sight of him.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say Kento was overcome with a little shyness then. He lowered his face and his nose found purchase on your collarbone. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, but gently. After a few moments of him basking in your embrace, he pulled away and cleared his throat, smoothing out his shirt. You took in a steadying breath and did the same to your own rumpled appearance.

He spent the remainder of your shift seated at a safe distance behind the other desk in the room, using the desktop PC to order up a replacement for his leather blade holster that was showing signs of wear. At times, your eyes would catch his, regarding you with a certain kind of tenderness in the dim glow of the office lamps. That expression was new. You delighted in it, as you did in every new aspect of himself he revealed to you.

When your shift ended, he insisted on walking you to the train.

Of course, he apologizes for his behaviour later. Even though the thought has long since ceased to bother you, he has been going over it in his mind, as you expected. He was the one who initiated the kiss in your office, after all. When you arrive home, warm up the food you'd pre-prepared in the fridge and finish with your bath, your phone is lit up with a small, insistent reminder.

Unable to help the small laugh that escapes you, you read his message.

"I don't know what came over me earlier. Please pardon my behaviour. I'm not offering excuses, but I did miss your presence."

The infinite sweetness that wells up inside you threatens to have you type something that you might want to take back. Like inviting him over so that he can fall asleep in your lap while your fingers card through his soft hair.

"Please don't apologize. I enjoyed that as much as you did, and you know it."

"You did?"

"Absolutely."

There is a pause before his next message.

"I did miss you."

"I missed you terribly, Kento. Was it a tough week?"

"Not difficult. Just draining. On surveillance."

"Please go to sleep soon."

"Are you already tired of me?"

"Are you already being melodramatic?"

"Nobody has ever called me melodramatic before."

"You just hide it well."

"As well as my desire to hold you?"

Your fingers still for a moment. How brazen.

"Not as much as my desire to kiss you all over your handsome face."

"You find me handsome?"

You can clearly picture that subtly pleased expression of his and almost roll your eyes. Of course Kento wouldn't take much note of his own appearance.

"Can you think of anyone who wouldn't find you handsome?"

"That's a matter of perspective."

"Name one. Go on."

"Gojo."

"Now you're playing dangerous games."

"How so?"

"If he were to receive an anonymous email asking him to sing praises to your beauty all week ... "

"All right. I take it back."

"Too late. Now go to sleep."

"Have mercy on me."

There is a small pause before his next reply comes.

"Goodnight, my darling."

For a long time, before you go to sleep, your heart hums a pleasant, warm rhythm to that word.

@tsukimefuku @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan @g-kleran

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vincentvalenfine · 2 months

Text

bite of the beast

vincent valentine/afab!reader nsfw, 18+ word count: 9400 warnings: canon-typical violence fighting monsters, partial galian beast transformation, explicit piv intercourse, knotting, blindfolded because vincent is a goddamn mess, mostly clothed sex, don't focus too hard on the where and when of setting honestly read also on ao3!

Not every transformation goes as smoothly as Vincent would like it to. That you're there when it goes sideways becomes a prime opportunity to get very close, very quickly.

It was getting to be routine, staying behind with the busted up Bronco while most of the others went off to take care of the important business of trying to save the world, one stop at a time. If anything you were glad for the chances to get some peace and quiet considering how much chatter could go on while on the move. At times like this it was just you keeping watch, Cid doing what he could for his poor airship, and the mysterious Vincent, keeping to himself but never straying too far away.

Ah, Vincent Valentine. He was fascinating to watch, you couldn’t help it. The aloof demeanor had mostly held up during his time with the group, but nonetheless you’d spotted the cracks and what hid underneath, which turned out to be a much kinder, softer man than his first meeting would’ve led anyone to believe. He had a protective streak, a subtle sweetness when he hid his smiles behind the high collar of his cloak, and… well, you hoped he was glancing at you with some measure of interest every now and then.

Finding reasons to get him talking wasn’t easy, but you had managed to garner a few conversations from him, and he always seemed surprised that someone wanted more than a few brief observations from him. But he at least appeared to be warming up, if slowly. Hopefully he wasn’t just trying to avoid any social friction. He was also a hard man to read…

Today’s scenic view was the humid, tangled jungles of Gongaga. The others had gone off down the lone dirt path that led away towards the village, while you had settled yourself in to get some reading done, Cid had gotten back to work on the Bronco, and Vincent… well, he was around here somewhere. Probably hiding in the shade to avoid the worst of the heat.

“Hey, I'm gonna catch a bit of shuteye real quick! You mind keepin’ watch?”

Looking up from your book, you gave a nod and a thumbs up to Cid, who grinned and returned the gesture before retreating to the Bronco’s interior. Well, that left you to be on the lookout for any monsters that might show up - in a remote place like this, the possibility was unfortunately high. Better to put the book away and get some little lookouts summoned up, then.

Picking up the length of rope coiled by your side, you gave the spiked metal hammer head attached to the end a few twirls around before deftly striking a few spots on the ground before you. Each little crater you made sprouted forth a miniature drake in dusty yellow, shaking dirt off their hides before flapping their wings and beginning to circle the Bronco in a broad radius. They didn't need to be strong, just alert in case of monsters, or unexpected visitors.

One of them squeaked out a noise you'd learned to associate with Vincent, somewhere on the other side of the Bronco. The indistinct, velvet murmur of his voice barely reached your ears, but you knew he was distracting one of your sentries from their job. It drew a little grin to your face.

He had shown a surprising fondness for the fiends you could summon to fight on your behalf, and it made you smile every time you caught him interacting with them.

One of the drakes let out a curious trill and your gaze shifted in that direction. The little beast was beginning to make its way into the foliage of the jungle, drawing an annoyed grumble from you - that wasn’t in the instructions at all, but maybe it had found something useful? They did like the scent of mako. A quick glance at the Bronco (Vincent would keep an eye on it while you followed after for a bit, right?), and you coiled your meteor hammer around your arm before hustling after the vanishing drake.

Tangled was an understatement regarding the underbrush of the jungle. You quickly found yourself stumbling over roots, shoving past vines, and cursing the little sentry that had simply gone flitting through the branches ahead without a care in the world. You’d think it would have some willingness to wait for its summoner before flying off! A damn shame you didn’t have a blade to help with hacking your way through the foliage, but it was a bit late to turn back for one and you didn’t want to lose track of your summon anyway.

As you struggled through, a brief flicker of red caught your eye up above and ahead, so brief you weren’t even sure you had seen it. Maybe that was what had drawn your sentry away? With more cursing for each vine and branch that slowed you down, you did your best to catch up with it. At least it looked like there was a break in the jungle ahead…

Which, upon bursting out into that opening, you realized your abrupt entrance was a pretty terrible idea.

While across the clearing there was indeed a mako spring welling up out of the earth with a gentle burbling, between you and it was a trio of Gagighandi just beginning to lift their heads from sleeping. And they were huge too - one of them snapped its jaws at your summon as it darted by, catching the poor thing with only its tail and some of its wings sticking out from the fanged maw that closed with a crunch. You winced at the sight of its lifestream wisping away and began slowly backing up. Maybe if you just moved slowly enough…

Your heel snagged on a root and sent you sprawling onto your back with a whoosh of air from your lungs, followed by a bout of coughing as you struggled to catch your breath. By the time you got it back and scrambled onto your feet, all three of the beasts were staring, long tails swishing behind them.

“Uh - nice lizards…?”

A loud growl was the response you received. Well… shit.

Before you could get your meteor hammer twirling, a trio of shots rang out that forced the beasts to leap back from their resting places, dirt spraying from the impact of bullets. You glanced up with wide-eyed surprise as a familiar cloaked figure emerged from the canopy above you and twirled neatly midair before taking another series of shots to force the fiends further back. His landing was impeccable too, seeming to hover just a moment before his sabatons touched down in front of you, facing forward towards the threat. Vincent glanced over his shoulder to you and gave a slight nod.

“You shouldn’t be so careless about wandering off alone.”

You couldn’t help but huff as you readied your weapon, “It’s not my fault the little bugger decided to go exploring!” He didn’t respond aside from a slight hum, though you were certain you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before he returned his gaze back to the Gagighandi that were now readying themselves to attack. Vincent had bought just enough time for you to prepare for a fight though as you stepped up beside him, and you began spinning the head of your hammer at the highest speed you could muster before slamming it to the ground.

Dirt exploded outwards, and with it the craggy, rocky shape of a golem hauled itself up out of the earth. You’d put more effort into the summon and this one was a good ten feet tall once it clambered to its feet, its ‘voice’ the scraping and gnashing of rocks as it lumbered towards its opponents. It would make a good shield to tank all the blows while you and Vincent took potshots from a safe distance.

At least, that had been the plan in your head until a fourth, even larger Gagighandi pushed through the trees, over the mako spring entirely with a single step. Oh, that just had to be mako mutated! Its gaze locked onto you as your body suddenly began to stiffen up - shit, Stone Stare was a bitch, and you knew you didn’t have a Soft or Remedy on you. Maybe it was time to try and book it before you both found yourselves petrified and eaten…

“Hm.”

Vincent’s voice drew your gaze, and you looked to find him withdrawing a golden Soft needle from a pocket with two gauntlet claw-tipped fingers. Without hesitating he flicked the item at you - it pierced your shoulder before you could think to reach for it, and you heaved a sigh of relief as the magic loosened up your tightened muscles. Okay, now was definitely the time to book it-

“Do not move.” His velvet voice was dark in warning, and you couldn’t help gaping as he stumbled forward suddenly. The beasts in front suddenly seemed uneasy at his approach, even more so as the sudden snapping of bones and popping of joints filled the clearing alongside Vincent’s voice choking out a scream. Oh, okay. Damn. It took an eternity and an instant before his form exploded outwards into the nightmarish beast you’d only seen once before, when Cloud and the others had beaten it down into submission with great difficulty. This was going to be intense…

The Galian Beast roared.

The Gagighandi recoiled briefly, before the largest one gave a shrieking hiss in response and lunged.

The battle was swift and terrible in its duration, and you were glued to the ground with fascination and a small measure of fright - how could something so massive move with such speed and agility? Your golem was giving its best to the smaller fiends, but its time was suddenly up as the Beast wrapped golden claws around it, lifted it high, and smashed it down upon the monster with more force than you could imagine. It stood no chance of surviving and crumbled away to dust afterward, while the great lizard stumbled back with a dazed look before screaming and lashing out with teeth and claws once more.

In less than a minute the smaller ones had succumbed to gaping wounds from the Beast’s claws and axe-tipped tail, and the larger one was well bloodied with a front leg dangling uselessly while it struggled to grapple with its foe.

You held your breath as the two strained against each other’s bulk… and then sighed in relief as the Gagighandi was wrenched from its feet and thrown down, the Beast descending upon it to tear it apart rather messily.

It was eating the fiend… well. It must’ve worked up an appetite during that fight.

You froze as it suddenly halted in its meal and lifted its head to look at you, bright eyes eerie even in the sunlight that filled the clearing. Your breath caught in your throat, gaze darting away to the ground to avoid staring. The last thing you wanted was for Vincent to feel threatened and turn his attention to chowing down on you instead. But aside from a low rumbling noise that seemed to roll through the air and your bones alike, the sounds of flesh being rent asunder and eaten resumed for another minute until silence fell over the clearing finally.

You were nervous about looking again, but you dared to anyway and found the Beast sat back on its haunches, licking the blood from its claws and face.

Those red eyes turned your way again, and you felt pinned by them. This time the Beast shook itself and dropped its head, another low rumble intermingled with a note of pain as its massive frame shuddered and began to shrink. Oh, thank goodness, he was changing back and you wouldn’t have to play hide and seek with the Beast.

You looked away again, out of courtesy this time, and waited again until the sound of footsteps told you Vincent was back to himself. Or at least that was what you assumed, but another surprise awaited when you looked.

“Vincent?”

Almost normal, but not - the Beast’s tall horns still curved up over the dark mess of hair, his eyes seemed fever bright with energy, and he carried himself several inches taller than usual on golden clawed feet like the Beast. More obvious still was the long tail that swayed behind him, bearing that golden axe like a macabre banner. With his face still speckled with blood, his expression was troubled, alarmed even. The claws that tipped his fingers seemed to be shaking as they rose to his face even at this distance, one that was being closed fast by his uneven steps.

“You need to leave,” he huffed out in a hoarse voice, the velvet traded for harsh gravel. He sounded frightened - you felt a bit frightened yourself at the unexpected change, but steeled yourself and shook your head after a moment.

“No, it’s alright. I want to help you, if I can.”

His expression twisted with fear - not for himself but for you, clearly. You mustered up your courage and took your own steps towards him, tilting your head slightly as he took a fretful step back in response. He really was scared of hurting others, of letting the Beast get the better of him… well, you needed to prove that fear wrong, then. It was only right to help him.

You kept your pace steady, tucking away your meteor hammer as you went, and offered him a smile when you grew close. While Vincent was already a relatively tall man, the additional height now made him tower over you the closer you got, though his hunched posture hid some of that height and made him appear like a distressed cat of sorts, especially with his tail swishing about erratically.

“You shouldn’t… I don’t want to-”

“You aren’t going to, don’t worry about it. Let me just take a look, okay?”

You were close enough to reach out and touch him, but he shied away from your hand with a sound caught somewhere between a whine and growl. Talk about stubborn; you heaved a sigh and stepped closer still, too close for him to lean away when you placed your hand on his arm. “See? I’m fine, you’re not hurting me. Let me help out.”

He let out a ragged breath, still looking fearful, but as you stood there and nothing happened he seemed to slowly relax. You smiled at him again to reassure him, letting your hand rub up and down lightly to prove that he wasn’t about to go attacking you just because of a touch. A low rumbling began to build in his chest, subtly different from the warning rumble the Beast had given you before… some kind of purr, in a way?

Vincent looked nervous still, and a touch confused by his own reaction, but he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he seemed to be unconsciously leaning in now, dark hair spilling over his shoulders - the ends had taken on a deep red hue unlike usual, and you found yourself watching his face, realizing it matched the color of his right eye. The left eye was more vibrant than ever, and his gaze seemed to draw you in, the muddled swirl of emotions in his eyes beginning to settle down as he watched you in turn. The furrow in his brow slowly eased away, his expression softening as he halfway hid behind the collar of his cloak. Was he… starting to blush?

You couldn’t help reaching up with your other hand and touching his cheek to see, the warmth of his skin quickly intensifying under your fingertips as his eyes fluttered closed. The rumbling grew louder as well, and in a sudden movement his right arm slipped about your shoulders to drag you up against him, a squeak of surprise escaping you in the process.

“Vincent...?”

His eyes flicked open quickly, an intensity to their gaze different from the fear he’d held before, pupils dilated and a frenetic energy setting them aglow. It was your turn to feel a measure of confusion as he leaned down, his exhales ruffling your hair with a few deep breaths.

“I did not notice before,” he murmured as if to himself, low voice back to rich velvet. “Your scent… it is pleasant.”

And now it was also your turn to blush, words catching in your throat as you struggled to come up with a response to that. You came up empty-handed, even more so as his nose nuzzled down against the crown of your head. His rumbling was especially loud when you were pressed up against his chest like this, and the combination of sound and touch was flustering you almost unbearably. The feelings you had begun developing were now suddenly unfurling with a vibrant, giddy warmth in your chest, but with it came an unbearable twist of nerves. Was Vincent really comfortable with this, or was it the Beast affecting his behavior? Would he shy away as soon as he realized what he was doing?

“Vincent, I-!”

You didn’t get the chance to ask, as he brought his face down to yours and blocked any further words from escaping your lips with his own.

His movements were hungry, surprisingly bold from someone otherwise so reserved - you found yourself melting into the kiss in spite of your worries, stomach flipping about with giddiness and hands having no choice but to grab onto the front of his cloak to keep themselves in check. His own hands had no such concerns apparently, clawtips pricking through cloth as he drew them down your sides and settled on your hips with a light squeeze.

That rumbling of his still going strong, his height had him stooped over until his grasp started urging you down toward the ground. You couldn’t help but oblige, especially considering the strength in his grip that made it feel like he was doing pretty much all of the work to move you.

With your back quickly meeting the ground, you were properly pinned under him now. A gasp escaped you when one of his hands left its perch to slide up underneath your shirt, claws dragging delicately along your skin and drawing a shiver from you. The uncertainties you wanted to voice had nowhere to go, swallowed by his mouth needy against yours every time you tried to speak them.

One of his thighs slid itself between yours. The warm leather pressed up firmly to your crotch drew a surprised moan from you, another noise muffled by his lips still hungry for your own. The hand that had slid upward beneath your shirt this time drew downward, the same light scrape of clawtips provoking another shudder before they caught on the cloth further down.

Vincent’s lips paused just briefly as if he'd found something to hesitate over, but the moment was fleeting and he renewed his fervent kiss while his hand tugged insistently at the clothing in his way. You found yourself doing your best to oblige his efforts by lifting your hips up with a wiggle that helped send everything sliding until it met with the thigh still pressed up against you.

That drew a brief growl from him for having gotten in his own way. A quick lift of his leg moved it out of the path of your clothes on their journey downward before he settled it right back into place, this time rubbing up against bare skin. You couldn’t help moaning again, especially when the hand still holding onto your hip drew you up along the length of his thigh. Trailing slick as you went no doubt, the friction quickly set your guts ablaze with need and had you squirming in short order.

Your hands tugged sharply at his cloak in an attempt to draw him closer even though he was limited by his own height, having to curl his back to both kiss you and keep his leg well-positioned. Another low rumble built in his chest, and he finally freed your lips to instead latch onto your neck with both lips and the lightest press of fangs. That made you gasp and go still, pulse fluttering against the warmth of his lips and tongue that laved over your skin slowly. It wasn’t a threat - it was downright possessive, claiming you for his own. The thought of it made your legs weak, and it was a good thing you weren’t standing on them right now. Still…

“V-Vincent, is - are you…?”

He paused for longer this time, giving you a chance to catch your breath in spite of the thigh still held between yours and the tightly coiled desire in your gut begging for him to keep going. Finally, with a grunt that betrayed his internal struggle, he withdrew his mouth and took a deep, ragged breath. His head lifted just enough that you could meet his gaze again, still fever bright and burning with a mix of emotions. Desire, chiefly, but tempered with his growing uncertainty, and a touch of fear. That same fear as before - he didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone you.

“Tell me to stop if…” he uttered hoarsely, the rest going unspoken. It would be too easy for you to do just that, to likely pretend this never happened if you were both so inclined… but he’d swiftly drawn out feelings that would have otherwise taken their time to grow, and possibly hastened feelings of his own as well. And you didn’t want to see what devastation looked like on his beautiful face.

Despite your nerves you raised a hand to touch his cheek once more, watching his eyes slide shut the same as before. This time you trailed your fingers down to his lips, brushing over them slowly and watching a shiver pass through him as he sighed. As they parted slightly for the motion of that sigh you gently slipped your thumb between them, watching his eyes flicker open with surprise and confusion - he clearly had no idea what you intended. He looked nervous as well, as if afraid he might suddenly bite down for no reason. You wanted to soothe that fear, running your thumb over the neat line of lower incisors to the much sharper canine that protruded upward and testing its sharpness with a light press. The action made him shudder, closing his lips around your thumb tentatively with the tiniest touch of his tongue tip to your skin. It was so comparatively shy when just moments ago he’d been licking your neck, you couldn’t help the amused smile that set his face flushing with embarrassment. He was so pale, it was impossible to miss it.

“I’m… more worried about you, okay? I’m good with this if you are.”

His eyes darted away, as if aware of how much they gave away about his feelings. Likely a whole flood of them about being afraid, of insecurities you weren’t privy to that would nonetheless give themselves away if he looked for too long… all of it at war with the Beast’s instincts that pushed him in more simple, primal directions. Even without making eye contact you could see his internal conflict.

You curled your fingers under his chin, using a gentle grip to draw his face close to yours again.

“I already liked you, Vincent. I don’t know if you felt that way too, but… if you don’t want anything that’s okay.” Heavy words to have to say in such an intimate position, but if it would make his choice easier then that was what you needed to say.

Another shudder ran through him, eyes closed to avoid looking at you for the moment before he seemed to summon his strength. His lips worked around your thumb with a brief sucking motion, tongue stroking gently over the tip before he tugged just a little to withdraw from your grip, licking his lips while he found his response.

“If you would accept a monster…”

You leaned in to kiss him, setting your own pace this time. He briefly stiffened with shock, then slowly began to relax down against you. This was less about urgent desire, more careful exploration as you gave him a proper feel for what you wanted him to have. His movements were cautious in return, but a soft rumble was beginning to build in his chest again as his gauntleted hand found its way up to your cheek and ghosted the sharp tips along, back over your scalp pleasantly.

A sigh escaping through your nose, you settled your hand on his shoulder to hold him closer, even still curled over you as he was. It wasn’t near the level of intensity which he’d brought to bear just earlier, but this kiss was pleasant in its own right, giving you the chance to grow confident with the new closeness… though it still didn’t prepare you for his thigh slowly shifting, as if testing whether he was still allowed to be so intimately pressed to you.

He needed the encouragement, so you gave him a soft little moan and parted your lips for him, the openness causing a brief hesitation before he accepted the invitation to send his tongue exploring. The hand on your hip flexed, digging clawtips in just for a moment before easing up and starting to draw them up along your side, giving you the freedom to move as you wanted to. You took the opportunity as it was given and began canting your hips into his thigh with another moan, this one muffled by his careful, methodical mapping of your mouth.

When he was in control he was so cautious, so nervous about making a wrong move that you were starting to miss the dominant eagerness of his bestial impulses, but figuring out how to get him to loosen up without scaring him… that was the challenge. And you wouldn’t be able to find out without a little experimentation.

You hadn't yet tried to touch any of his new ‘additions’, and decided it was time to give it a go; your free hand shifted upward, first to stroke at the messy black hair spilling over his shoulders. He hummed quietly, another deep rumble swelling from his chest, and that encouraged you to continue petting for another moment or so. Then you rose further, pausing at the base of one of his horns before touching the craggy, tough surface. Vincent’s rumbling stuttered for a moment, exposing his nerves once more.

You withdrew for a few seconds, just enough time to catch some deep breaths and whisper to him, “You're okay.”

He shivered, then gave the slightest nod and tilted his head towards your hand, the surprisingly broad girth of his horn pushing into your palm. It wasn’t wholly rough in texture, a few smooth areas found by your fingertips, and with a quick breath before leaning in to kiss him again, you gave it a tug to pull him closer. Vincent growled at that - another shift in demeanor, his teeth now latching onto your lower lip with a harsh nip. You gasped, another moan fluttering out, and tugged again to provoke him further. That seemed to bring him right back to his earlier mindset, and once again his movements grew hungry, taking the previously careful pace and ramping it up to a feverish rush.

Vincent’s mouth pulled away from yours and found its way to your neck again, and this time you felt no need to disrupt him, shuddering at the fangs dragging along thin skin like he wanted to make a meal of you. At this point you wanted him to do just that, consequences be damned - you’d look good with his bite marks all over you, no doubt.

“Vincent, please..!”

Another low growl escaped him, lips and tongue working their way downward to the join of neck and shoulder where muscle would make a nice, safe place to leave his mark. But he was holding back it felt like, the sharp points pressing down but not quite hard enough to break skin, and combined with the growing tension in your gut as you continued working yourself against his thigh the wait was almost unbearable. A whine slid from your lips - and he hummed in amusement, tongue glazing over the skin caught in his mouth almost lazily. Dammit, he was actually teasing you!

“Please,” you rasped, “I want it.”

He let go in order to speak, exposing damp skin to his exhaled breath and making you shiver. “You will have to be specific.”

Specific - fuck, that’s just embarrassing! You huffed indignantly, about to start pouting when his thigh began pulling away suddenly. On reflex you clamped down on it with your legs, giving him an almost offended look. That provoked a low huff that could’ve been a laugh, and he dipped his head back to the base of your neck, nuzzling with just his nose to take in your scent again.

There was a low thudding off to the side, and craning your neck over you caught a glimpse of that new tail of his, the gleaming axehead thumping against the dirt. Wagging his tail… dammit, that was so cute you could almost forgive him for being a tease right now.

You groaned a little and gathered your words. “Please, I… want you to bite me.”

Vincent hummed again, and then in one swift motion opened his mouth to bite down firmly, fangs sinking through skin with ease and causing a warm burst of pain. You couldn’t hold back a little cry, one that suddenly pitched upwards with surprise and pleasure as his hand found its way down and pressed the heel of his palm firmly against your clit. Those claws wouldn’t be a good time in such a delicate area, yet he’d found a good enough work-around to set you writhing even while he remained firmly latched on.

The heady mix of pain and pleasure made your last few ruts against his leg rushed and jerky before you hit a swift climax, gasping his name as you clung tightly to him and rode out the waves.

His hand remained in place until you were limp on the ground, though at some point during your orgasm he’d withdrawn his fangs from your skin and had settled into licking at the blood that streamed from the wound. The bite mark ached, throbbing in time with the receding pleasure in your core. Even then the only thing you regretted at the moment was not doing anything for him in return so far, and as you worked on catching your breath and wits both you gave his horn a light tug to try and bring him back up for another kiss. He resisted for a moment with a soft growl, closing his mouth over the mark he’d left for one more taste, then allowed you to redirect him.

There was something both wicked and irresistible about tasting your own blood on his lips, and even though you’d just come your guts were already growing tight with desire again, this time for more than the thigh he was slowly withdrawing from between your legs.

You kissed him needily and he pushed back in kind, the occasional lap of his tongue trying to catch what blood he was smearing across your lips. His fangs nipped in turn and had you whining petulantly, free hand seeking its way to one of his belts and giving it a tug. Vincent shuddered in response, hesitating for a moment as if arguing with the Beast’s instincts before giving in and arching his back up to let his hips more evenly drop down against yours. One of his hands found its way to your hip to bring you up against him as well, and the distinctive bulge trapped under tight, warm leather had you squirming with want, legs quick to hook around him and give you leverage to grind up against him.

This time he was the one to moan, a deliciously soft, wanting noise that sent your desire out of control, tugging again at his belt like it was a handle to steer him with. Dammit, if only there wasn't so much fucking leather in the way-

“Wait,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips, and you pulled back to give him the room he needed. He looked so conflicted again, even with pupils blown wide open and a thin strand of spit still trailing from his lips down to yours. As much as you wanted to drive the uncertainties from his mind and kiss him breathless, you didn't want to scare him away.

“Take your time, Vincent. I can wait.”

He took that time as offered, trying to slow his breathing down and closing his eyes for the time being. You dropped your hand from horn to hair and started petting gently - a soft rumbling rolled from his throat in response even as his cheeks grew pink from the affection. His hair, though messy, was still silky to the touch and honestly a pleasure to comb your fingers through.

Finally, he gave a shaky sigh and opened his eyes to look at you once more, still fraught with uncertainty but also holding a measure of desire… a touch of affection? You could hope that you weren’t mistaking lust for its less common counterpart. You'd gotten this far with him, though.

“I am… not sure this is right. I'm still - half a beast. You couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what? Stop you? You're the one stopping yourself right now.” You gave your hips a brief grinding movement up against him and watched his lips part for an airy moan - so damn beautiful, both to look at and listen to. Again, he had to close his eyes, this time to escape your smug little smile. He was too easy to rile up behind all that aloof calmness.

“Or if you mean I couldn't possibly want this - I do. I want it a lot.” Surprisingly your voice didn't crack, even though you felt like it ought to from such a confession.

Vincent opened his eyes again, this time with a flustered confusion so clear in them you couldn’t resist leaning up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose, making his eyes cross just briefly and prompting you to giggle. Further confused by that, he frowned - pouted really. “I don't understand… why you would accept such a thing.”

“Because you're still you. And… it's kind of hot? Not that - you're still handsome normally! Just-” And now you were the one blushing while his expression grew more confused, as if he couldn't even conceive of being called handsome, let alone hot. Your words died on your tongue with embarrassment, suddenly struggling to look at him directly and turning your head aside only to peer from the corner of your eye. He only seemed further mystified by your response, averting his gaze with a soft murmur, “If that is your opinion.”

Opinion? Oh, no, that wouldn't stand, you needed him to know it was a fact.

“I mean it, Vincent, you really are. If everyone didn't already have a million problems to deal with, they'd probably be staring at your pretty face a whole lot more.”

At those words he sunk behind the comfort of his cloak collar, not that it hid how red he was turning. You could face him again now that your focus was on getting him to understand how pretty he actually was, lifting up again to kiss his forehead this time. “And being a beast or a monster or whatever you feel like you are, that doesn't change what I think or feel about you… I'm not turning away.”

When you sank back down you found him looking almost distressed, as if he didn't know what to do with genuine affection. He dropped even further behind the collar like he could disappear if he tried hard enough. You snorted, hands finding their way to his cheeks to gently coax him out of hiding, slowly but surely until you could see his pouting lips. His face was still incredibly warm under your touch, only growing hotter when you drew him down into a kiss - gentle and affectionate this time to reassure him that you were being honest about everything.

Slowly he melted out of the confusion and embarrassment until he was pressed down against you once more, that rumble of his beginning to pick up when your thumbs stroked over his cheeks slowly. What a complicated mess of a man you’d picked out by accident… hard to say no to such a pretty face, though.

Confident he was getting back to the right mindset, you carefully moved your hips against him and found yourself rewarded with another moan of his, caught by your mouth so it vibrated against your lips. Keeping one hand cupping his cheek and caressing it with your thumb, your other hand made the journey back down and slid between your hips and his, paying no heed to the stickiness as you began looking for ways to get all the damn leather out of the way. One belt slowly unbuckled, a war of attrition against the pieces keeping his skin from touching yours began but paused when one of his hands snagged your wrist; you blinked your eyes open and caught him staring right at you, still so intense. This time he didn’t pull away though, and just gave one of his little hums before lightly nipping at your lips. You ended up squeaking, briefly forgetting your attempt at undressing him at least a little.

That gave him the chance to grasp your other wrist and bring them both up over your head - his long, elegant fingers even with claws now tipping them were perfect for catching both wrists in one hand and pinning them to the ground. Oh, no fair! Now you had no chance to get at him properly, and you made your displeasure known by squirming up against him with a muffled whine.

The friction made him groan, but what followed was an even more delightful sound: a low, rusty sort of chuckle escaped, like he hadn’t really laughed at anything in forever. But it made a pleased chill roll down your spine. He pulled back and you chased his lips as far as you could, prompting another soft little laugh from him that made your stomach flutter from how nice it sounded.

“Impatient, aren’t you.” Vincent said it as a statement instead of a question, and you decided (very maturely) to stick your tongue out at him.

He raised an eyebrow, snorted, and used his free hand to caress your cheek in a mirror to your own actions earlier. You couldn’t help leaning your head into his touch even with clawtips prickling against your skin as a reminder of his current form. It didn’t matter - at this point you trusted him not to hurt you (at least, not any further than you had already asked for).

“Close your eyes. Please.”

At his request you nodded, sliding them shut and relying now on your sense of touch to keep track of him. His hand trailed its way down onto your neck, to your chest and further down over your stomach. The light nature of his movements made your stomach suck in a bit with ticklishness, but thankfully he didn’t seem to think of pursuing such a reaction and kept moving downward. As his clawed fingertips hit the bare skin of your lower half and trailed over your mound you began shifting with poorly restrained desire, only to find yourself disappointed when he slid up along one of your thighs and carefully disengaged your legs from holding onto him.

“Vincent, please…”

“Be patient.”

That was a subtly commanding kind of tone, and not a request. You nodded again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from opening your eyes when he hadn’t yet said you could. His hand left you and you had to start listening for what he seemed to be doing next - the subtle but distinct sound of a zipper struggling along its path, a sharp inhale from him, and the rustle of leather sliding against cloth.

So it was a surprise when the hot, sticky weight of his cock dropped down onto your mound. Your breath hitched as you tried your best to gauge girth and length from what you could feel… and it felt pretty damn big. It had to have hurt like hell, trapped under those tight leather pants. All sorts of thoughts flew through your mind, from how badly you already wanted him to bend you in half to whether it would even fit in your mouth if he let you try. You swallowed, trying to get them under control so you could say something.

“Can I touch you…?”

Vincent was quiet for a moment, then huffed as if faintly annoyed. Maybe he’d momentarily forgotten your eyes were closed. “You may.”

His grasp on your wrists eased up just enough to let one of your arms slip free, though he kept the other caged for the time being. One was all you needed really, bringing your hand down and carefully setting it down where you felt his cock atop you. As soon as you made contact a quick breath followed by a groan left him, the girth under your fingers twitching eagerly. Damn, he was pretty thick, though you mapped out a taper as you slid along its length to the tip. It reached a slender point rather than a human-like head… another Beast trait, it seemed. Sliding back the other way, the thickness of it became somewhat daunting the closer to his hips you got, especially considering how long it felt as well. The heat radiating from him was especially intense too, but the way he kept twitching and shifting under your hand was irresistible - you felt reasonably sure you could handle this, given some opportunity to adjust.

Before you could get too handsy you felt him grabbing your wrist and drawing your arm back up to be secured again, prompting a little whine from you that was followed by an amused huff from him. “I told you, be patient.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, hoping it made him smile. “Can I open my eyes at least?”

He paused for a longer moment than felt comfortable, and you were about to open your mouth to retract your statement when he finally murmured a response.

“I would… prefer you not to look. Please…”

You kept your mouth closed, thinking for just a second before nodding in agreement. He was always buried under those layers of his, it seemed likely that he had some sort of issue with his self-image that would no doubt be made worse by his partially transformed figure. It was probably miracle enough that he had exposed himself this much.

“Okay. Could you blindfold me then, maybe? So I won’t look by accident.”

Vincent gave a grunt of affirmation, and after a few moments passed a piece of cloth draped itself over your face, still warm with body heat - wait, was this his headband? It smelled like him, tickling your nose with how it draped over the tip, and cracking your eyes open just a touch confirmed your suspicion with the red fabric that blocked your view. You blew some air through your lips to push it up off your nose, giving him an awkward smile that rewarded you with a soft hum.

“Hold still,” he commanded in advance, then released his grip on your wrists so that he could deftly fold the cloth and tie it around your head. You considered being bratty for a moment, but that could chase him off, or delay what you wanted so badly… better to behave right now for your first time.

One hand shortly resumed its post keeping your hands up and out of his way, while the other slid back down your front, slipping past his cock and carefully sliding two fingers between your folds. Though you moaned, you held still to avoid any accidents with the claws that were so easily capable of causing a nasty scratch on such delicate skin. They only lingered for a few moments, and you realized he was catching some of your slick to lube himself up with, retreating without any harm done. From where he was touching you it was easy to feel him shudder; he didn’t seem all that eager to touch himself, but it was necessary considering he was still holding your hands hostage. His slick covered claws grazed over your stomach briefly and provoked a small shiver from you, and now you felt safe enough to squirm under him impatiently, hoping to at least distract him from his own body. You managed to win a small hum from him at least.

“Vincent, please, I need you.”

His lips pressed to yours for a brief kiss that you chased after again, a second hum of amusement leaving him. Though he gave another little shudder, you felt the slim tip of his cock press up against your folds and held your breath, hips tilting up slightly in an attempt to coax him into continuing.

“I do not… know if I will be able to stop myself,” he whispered by your ear, sounding almost guilty about the admission. “If you do not want this…”

“I want it. Every last inch,” you replied fervently, and swore that you could feel the blush burning on his face in response. You turned your head to kiss his cheek, then the corner of his lips. A low sigh escaped him, and he withdrew from kissing range in spite of your pout, though your expression shifted as his cock began to push inside. Already wet from your first orgasm, the light coating he’d given himself to start with made the initial entry easy enough. Halfway was where the stretch began, your pulse pounding in your throat and eyes fluttering behind the cloth covering them, a stuttered breath rattling out of you. Fuck. Maybe every last inch was a minor exaggeration.

Vincent was going slowly enough not to hurt you, but he also wasn’t stopping even as your walls flexed around him. His moan was tinged with a growl, his hand clasping your hip now, fingers still sticky with your juices.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, swearing you were almost at your limit when you finally felt his hips settle against yours. How he fit all the way you weren’t sure but the stretch of him, length and girth both was almost too much at once, legs shaking from from the overwhelming sensation tinged with just a little pain. For the moment it was good enough to take one shaky breath after the next, waiting for your body to adjust to his cock pushed so deep inside you.

Finally, you gave a small nod to him. “Slowly - please…”

“I will try,” he replied. He sounded just as breathless as you felt.

The intensity of it eased as he slowly withdrew, giving you the chance to catch a few deeper breaths, and the second slide in was just a little more bearable even when he pressed to the hilt again. Your legs were still trembling some, and you doubted they’d be of any use for the next few hours. He’d probably have to carry you out of here, and if he was still caught in this form then there’d be questions to answer and probably a lot of suspicion and fuck, you were letting him rail you right out in the middle of nowhere in the open-

Vincent kissed you again with renewed hunger, and his slow thrusts began to pick up speed in short order, chasing away the thoughts beginning to derail you with each burst of intense sensation every time he stretched you out. A series of soft cries and moans went straight into his mouth unheeded, fangs nipping before his tongue brushed your lips and coaxed your mouth open for him once more.

He was starting to rumble again, short intervals interrupted by his hips now slapping against you with increasing roughness. The hand on your hip kept you to his rhythm without fail, and as it tilted you up further for his convenience the changing angle helped his cock find just the right spot inside - your voice choked on how much pleasure came from the repeated presses along and against your g spot, overwhelmed once more and feeling another climax come crashing down through you.

But in spite of the shuddering and writhing beneath him, Vincent’s thrusts continued relentlessly right through your orgasm, snapping in and out with enough force to push your breaths from you. He definitely wasn’t about to stop, likely couldn’t stop even if he wanted to when the Beast’s instincts were probably driving him toward a very simple goal: mate.

His mouth remained ravenous pressed to yours, his grasp somehow still relatively gentle on your wrists despite his otherwise rough treatment - some part of him was at least doing its best not to hurt you, though the rest of him was making sure to fuck you as thoroughly as possible. Another orgasm built up quickly and rolled through your body, overstimulation already starting to take hold as he still kept up a brutal pace while your walls spasmed around him and you were starting to lose track of where your legs had gone off to in spite of being attached to you. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer, could he?

The already snappy rhythm grew even more frantic as if he’d heard your thoughts, and what had become a bearable stretch suddenly started to become more intense again - was he starting to swell up? Oh, fuck, did he have a knot? You couldn’t speak up with him still devouring your mouth greedily, and even if he wasn’t the intensity of his pace was leaving you mostly breathless anyway. It was all you could do to simply try to brace yourself as the last several thrusts first tested your body’s willingness to stretch just a little more, then sank to the hilt one last time with a slight pop that made your head almost jerk down against the ground and sent stars through your vision for a moment.

His knot continued to swell for a few more seconds to firmly lock him in place, and the deepest rumble you’d heard from him yet rose from deep in his chest, hips jerking forward against you while spurts of cum surged hot and deep inside.

Vincent finally released his grip on your wrists and withdrew his mouth, breathing hard and fast the same as you. With your mouth free you could gasp for air, shaking from the intensity of the stretch that you had no choice but to endure right now. Though your limbs felt like limp noodles, you blindly lifted one trembling arm up to try and touch him, though it seemed to take a longer moment than expected before his warm cheek settled against your palm. You quickly urged him close to you again, seeking any sort of diversion to help occupy your mind.

“Bite me again, please.”

Your voice was just as shaky as the rest of you, and the tone of it seemed to spur him into action quickly - he dropped his head down to the opposite side of where he’d bitten before and quickly sunk his fangs into your shoulder. The warm, sharp stab was a welcome distraction even as it made tears well up, and you made no effort to stop them from leaking down the sides of your face and soaking into the bandanna still keeping you blind. Your hand slipped around to the back of his head and tangled fingers in his hair to hold him there, a low whine in your throat as his tongue lapped up the blood spilling into his mouth.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like forever before the stretching eased up. With a lewd, slick sound you felt his knot finally pop free along with a gush of fluids - you couldn’t stop the moan that slid from your lips, muscles fluttering weakly as he withdrew and gave them the freedom to relax. The empty feeling was both a relief and made you wish he would sink right back into you, but you knew that you probably couldn’t handle a second round after such a rough first time.

Vincent groaned quietly against your shoulder, teeth pulling free and tongue licking slowly at the puncture wounds he’d left behind. He was trembling a little himself now, and you wondered if it was from being just as overstimulated as you, or if his half-transformed state was taking a toll. Or maybe he was just coming back down from the Beast’s instincts and realizing what he’d done… you couldn’t find any words to try reassuring him with, but you could at least turn your head to kiss the messy dark hair draped between your lips and his forehead.

A thin sigh escaped him, and then a grunt of pain - you felt the claws on your hip beginning to shrink. The rest of his bestial traits were following suit no doubt, and you did your best to soothe him through it by petting the back of his head and nuzzling your face against him gently. What had to be his horns disappearing was giving off a grinding sound that made you wince in sympathy. That had to hurt.

“Vincent, are you okay…?”

You couldn’t bring your voice above a whisper even if you wanted to, but this close it wasn’t really necessary anyway. Another grunt, and he began to lift his head up away from you, seeming to pause for a moment before his hand left your hip and there was the soft rustling of cloth and leather, then a distinctive zipping before you felt him carefully pulling off the makeshift blindfold.

Compared to the warm darkness now everything was quite bright - you squeezed your eyes shut to adjust to the sudden light, slowly squinting them open to finally get a look at him again. The horns had vanished, and his eyes no longer glowed with energy aside from the usual yellow ring in his left eye. Instead they were dark with concern, fear, guilt, and his face was tucked down to hide behind his cloak collar as if he couldn’t quite handle being seen yet.

“I hurt you,” he mumbled.

“I asked you to,” you countered, watching surprise flicker across his expression. “And I enjoyed it. You don’t get to feel bad about something I enjoyed.”

He had the grace to blush about that, his gaze flicking further down your body briefly before a much more vivid red overtook his face. Oh, yeah, you had to be a total mess down below… with a soft sigh you pushed yourself up on shaky arms and watched him rear back nervously in response, eyes looking well away from you now.

“I’m gonna need some help, Vincent. I don’t think I can feel my legs right now.” You made the admission with a measure of ruefulness, and he gave a small cough as if he’d almost choked on his spit. “I-.... Very well then. I will… help you clean up.”

And with an abrupt swiftness you were suddenly up off the ground, aloft in his arms and clinging to the front of his cloak in surprise. You could still feel his cum oozing out of you, silently hoping you weren’t going to drip all over his nice leathers… but he didn’t seem to be thinking about it, merely securing the clothing dangling off your ankles as he set off. Hopefully to find some running water for you to wash up with, because you sure as hell didn’t want to put your clothes back on yet.

At least there wouldn’t have to be an explanation for why Vincent had half a transformation going on anymore. No, you’d just have to explain instead why you weren’t about to go walking around outside the ship for the next couple of hours. Boy was that going to be interesting.

(Worth it.)

#vincent valentine x reader #reader insert #chrys indulgences #finally remembered my writing tag #thats a lie i went back to an older fic lol

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xzaddyzanakinx · 7 months

Text

Missed me? Pt 3

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x Femme Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: stepcest/inappropriate relationships, cheating, kissing, flashback, past minor injury, angry/kinda violent thoughts

Info: honestly ur mom is rlly good at psychological warfare

You ran with Chewie in tow, your lungs on fire as you attempted to get home as quickly as possible. You skid to a stop on the pavement outside your house, the scene unfolding before you hitting you hard. Your mom, stomping out to her car and slamming the door shut. Throwing it in reverse and peeling out of the driveway without even glancing your way. You could physically feel the air blowing past you as she sped off out of the neighborhood.

You walked inside, terrified you’d find a mess. But to your surprise everything was in its place. You unclipped Chewie’s leash and let her roam about inside the house until she found a cool spot on the floor.

You could hear Anakin still working in the garage, he’d turned on some music to keep him company. Maybe you overreacted? She probably didn’t think anything of it right? It’s innocent enough. Anakin is notorious for leaving grease and oil stains in places they should never be. Like the time you painted your palm shoe-polish black just from opening the fridge.

It was nothing. Right? Anakin would be in here upset and waiting for you if something had happened, so everything must be fine. You thought back to your earlier conversation with your mom and recalled how annoyed she seemed about that coding mishap.

Relief spread through you, she was extremely anal about her work. A perfectionist through and through, maybe she’d received word the damage was worse than she originally thought. That would definitely warrant nascar level driving in her eyes.

Even so, you felt the need to placate her when she returned. After a shower and a clean set of comfy clothes you set about cleaning the main floor of the house thoroughly. Scrubbing each surface clean, vacuuming, mopping windex-ing the windows. You even cleared out the leftovers and expired items from the fridge. Going so far as to jot down the items that needed replacing.

Trotting over to the cork board mounted on the wall of the short hall leading to the laundry room and the garage door. This was where everything of importance lived, bills, grocery lists, to-do lists, even a family calendar. Something in red ink had been added to the calendar for tomorrow and you nearly stabbed yourself with a push pin when you read it.

‘Date Night 6:00 @Marzettis’

Written in the ridiculously neat and proper cursive that only could’ve belonged to your mother. If you measured the PSI of your bite force right now, you were one hundred percent sure it would be enough to bite off your mother’s writing hand. Your jaw was clenched so tightly that you heard your molars squeak in protest.

Jabbing the list into the cork with the pushpin you let out a breath that you’d been holding long enough to make you alittle lightheaded.

Calm down. They’re married. Married people go on dates. Anakin can’t really reject his own wife can he? No. No he can’t. It’s okay.

You shook out your anger, resolving yourself to ignore the fact that your stomach was churning with nerves and your tongue burned with unspoken venom. There was still things to do. And doing things is good. Scrubbing every centimeter of the bathroom shower with such aggression that you permanently bent the bristles of your favorite scrub brush was definitely a healthy alternative to committing a felony.

Hours passed and Anakin finally returned from the garage sending the current vehicle he was working on back to its owner a full day early. It’s amazing what alittle midmorning pussy pick-me-up can do for a man.

It also probably helped that your tiny arms shaved off at least an hours work of dismantling parts of the engine that were in his way of retrieving the piece he actually needed to extract. Though he’d milk his coincidental success as the result of your passionate rekindling for all that it’s worth. It couldn’t hurt to test out that theory a few times could it?

“Whoa.” He snorted, seeing you to his left scrubbing the inside of the washing machine. “What the hell are you doing?”

You lifted your head a bit too fast and wacked it on the lip of the washer, immediately wincing and bringing a hand to rub the top of your head.

“Apparently I’m doing my damndest to give myself a concussion.” You joked, glancing over at him in his sweaty, greasy clothes.

“There’s this guy who has disgusting laundry, that occasionally leaves residue in the washer.” You dramatically explained.

“So I’m doing him a favor and saving him from an accidental repeat of the fancy hand-towel stain incident of 2020.” You grinned and watched as Anakin mirrored your expression.

“Lucky man.” He chuckled, coming over to give you a quick peck on the lips before rushing off to shower.

Dinner rolled around and you decided to order in, the local Chinese restaurant had the best egg rolls around, and that was just what you needed. You texted your mother to ask for her order and jotted yours and Anakin’s down on a scrap of paper.

~be home alittle late. Just get some Udon for me.~ She responded quickly.

Easy enough. You called in the order and it was delivered and delicious in around 30 minutes. You spread out the feast on the kitchen counter and laughed at Anakin practically drooling over the crab rangoons he was shoveling into his mouth.

“So whens she gonna be home?” He asked, not even bothering to cover his mouth despite chewing like his life depended on it.

“She just said late.” You shrugged, late could mean anything. 10 minutes, an hour; it’s a ridiculous measure of time that you’d always had trouble accepting.

“Well.” He clicked his tongue as he popped open a cold beer from the fridge. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Oh actually, you know what he haven’t done in a while?” You grinned.

“Housewives?” He smirked.

“Yes sir. Take your pick.” You scooped up your take-out box and made a beeline for your favorite seat, the comfy and worn out recliner.

“I’m thinkin’ New Jersey.” He mused, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and searching for your guilty pleasure show.

There’s something comforting about watching someone else’s life like this. Honestly you found it… strangely calming to know that other people have more stressful lives than you. And of course it didn’t hurt that you really loved a bratty cat-fight. Scripted or not, it was undeniably as entertaining as a train wreck.

It would seem that your mother’s definition of ‘late’ was around 45 minutes, she walked in the door as chipper as ever. Doing wonders for your earlier worries; nothing seemed amiss to her.

She took in your comfortable nest of blankets in your recliner, Anakin’s lanky legs draped over the armrest of the couch with his head propped on a pillow. She was… assessing the scene and found no evidence of any foul deeds.

“It was a good idea for take out.” She said, tossing her items on the table. “I’ve missed these noodles.”

“Oh I know.” You agreed. “I saved an egg roll for you.”

“Thanks sweetie.” She said, flashing a blank stare and an empty smile over her shoulder that went unnoticed by the both of you.

“So Marzettis, is that alright for tomorrow?” She asked Anakin sitting on the couch near him with her food.

“That new Italian place?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together. “That’s the one Obi took Satine to isn’t it?”

“Yeah it is,” she nodded, seemingly pleased he remembered. “They gushed about it so much I figured it was time we try it.”

“Alright, as long as there’s breadsticks I’m happy.” Anakin smiled.

Meanwhile you were boiling in your seat as you listened to their conversation. Just like in an old cartoon you swore the top of your head would screw itself off and rattle with white hot steam. Honestly, you wished it would. That might just be the only way to get rid of this pressure in your skull without *actually* combusting.

You suffered through their small talk and meaningless conversation about blah, blah and blah. Finally, the episode of Housewives ended and you made your quick egress to your room with a wave goodnight.

You lay awake in bed, planning your to-do list for the next day. You needed to keep yourself busy and entertained to avoid falling victim to the wallowing hole of self pity that is your mind’s way of ‘coping’ with your jealousy.

To-Do:

Wake up

Scream

Nap

Repeat

Perfect.

You woke up, unsure as to when you actually fell asleep; though arguably in a 73% better mood just from the simple fact that you could hear power tools being used in the garage. It was comforting. The noise used to bother you, irk you to the edge of insanity, because who in their right mind would wake up and use the loudest power tools known to man at 6:00am?

Anakin would.

Every time you woke up to the noise, it reminded you of your first kiss, what could be a better way to wake up? Except for maybe an actual kiss from him.

You had stomped from your room to the garage, having been woken up at 6:00am *on summer break* for the previous 4 days. You threw the door open and yelled for him, but he didn’t hear you. Between the loud grinding sound of metal on metal and the earbuds he had in, you had little choice but to pull something dramatic.

Spotting the extension cord you had unplugged it and relished in the momentary silence before hearing Anakin cursing and repeatedly flipping the switch. You stood and observed with a self-satisfied grin, crossing your arms and jutting out your hip as you waited for his small man brain to figure out what happened.

Karma wasn’t something you believed in until right then, because without even looking up he yanked on the extension cord and the hard plastic socket whipped your thigh leaving an almost immediate bruise.

“Fuck!” You yelled, clenching your fists and biting back a string of words so hellish you might’ve burst into flames if you screamed like you wanted to.

Anakin’s head shot up and he ripped out his earbuds, momentarily confused when he didn’t see the source of the very angry curse word. That was until you hissed as you poked at the tender bruise.

“Oh shit.” He mumbled, rounding the front end of the car to get to you. “Hey- hey sweetheart, what the hell are you doing down here? It’s awful early for you to be up.”

Oh that was it. That was not the thing to say to you right then. He could’ve called you a crybaby and you would’ve took it better than that innocent comment.

“Yeah? It’s awful early to be using whatever the fuck that thing is!” You grumbled, shaking his hand off your arm. “Do you seriously have to do that this early in the morning? Can’t you do something less… grating?!”

“Do you see any other vehicle here for me to work on?” He deadpanned.

“God you’re insufferable sometimes you know that?” You huffed, looking back down at your leg.

“Did you unplug that grinder I was using?” He asked accusingly.

“Yes I did.” You shot back. “It was getting on my fucking nerves Anakin.”

“Well shit- just let me-“ He sighed trying to pry your hands away from your thigh but you batted him away, swiping a droplet of blood across his wrist.

One of the sharp plastic corners had bit into your skin on impact and caused a teeny tiny nick. Though from the amount of blood trickling down your leg, one would automatically assume you had a proper slice of an injury.

“Baby c’mon just let me see? I’m sorry.” He said in a pained tone, you could tell he genuinely felt bad, even though this was mostly your fault.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me.” You had scoffed.

“Fine. My liege.” He grumbled sarcastically.

He approached with paper towels and crouched down to swat your hands away and dab gently at the wound, or rather, lack thereof. He attempted to hand you a paper towel to clean off your hand but you declined, anti-politely wiping off the blood onto his dirty work shirt.

“Are you serious right now?” He scowled.

“Are you almost done?” You countered, crossing your arms again.

“Yeah. It’s just a scratch. Turns out every inch of you is just as dramatic as your shit attitude.” He said, standing up, his height making you feel dwarfed.

“Yeah that’s what happens when-“ you started in an angry, belittling tone.

Though you were cut off and the world paused around you. You went stiff as he grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned down to kiss you. Before you even registered what was happening top-side, your body had already begun to relax in his arms. His big strong, work-worn hands pulling you into him while he slipped his tongue between your lips. Gliding lightly just behind your top row of teeth before you finally gave in and kissed him back.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you hummed know content when he released your waist to cradle your head with both hands, your own fisting his shirt as you kissed like your lives depended on it.

“Hey! You up?” Your mom knocked loudly on your door and broke the trance of the sweet memory. That 73%? Reduced to 32%.

“Yes.” You huffed and rolled out of bed, unlocking your door and letting her in.

“Great, I want to borrow a dress of yours is that okay?” She asked, heading to your closet before you could even respond.

No way. Absolutely no way. She was not wearing that.

“No. Pick something else.” You said sternly, taking the red summer dress and hanging it back up.

“What why?” She questioned.

“Because it has a hole in it.” You lied, “can’t have you going on your big date like that.”

“I didn’t see a hole.” She countered, going to grab it again.

“Trust me. There’s a hole.” And they’ll be another one: in the ground for her if she didn’t accept defeat on this.

“Fine.” She scoffed and drug out a few more options under your watchful eye.

“This one?” She asked.

“Yeah that one’s fine. It’ll look great.” You forced a smile and tracked her during her retreat down the hall.

As soon as she entered her room you slammed your own door shut and locked it again. You went straight to your closet and got the red dress, folding it and tucking it into the bottom of your sock drawer.

Was she intentionally trying to piss you off? No. She couldn’t have known. No one could’ve known other than you and Anakin. You had been so careful, going out of town for a date at the drive-in while your mom was away on a business trip. You’d worn that dress for Anakin and only Anakin, and you’d never worn it since that night, that first night.

In your state of confusion you didn’t notice the sound of Anakin’s garage noise die down.

Anakin had stopped for a coffee break and came inside, finding his wife at the kitchen counter. He gave her a quick smile and and poured some black coffee into a big thermos.

“Sugar? ‘Sugar’?” She asked sweetly, sliding the large sugar canister across the countertop to him.

“Uh, yeah.” He blinked slowly as if trying to rewind her words. “Yeah okay thanks.”

He shook his head and shrugged, raising his eyebrows in concentrated thought as he stirred the sugar into his coffee. The only person who has *ever* said that to him is you. That’s such a weird coincidence… what are the chances? It’s not like you call him ‘sugar’ any other time either. Only ever for the sake of making him smile when he fixes his coffee.

“Well. I’ll be out here then.” He said awkwardly, still very much miffed by the odd comment.

She ‘mhm’d’ in response, enjoying watching him slink back into the garage with his cheeks tinted in shame.

By the time 5:30 rolled around Anakin was in a nice button-up and dress pants, looking absolutely exquisite. That man really knew how to wear… anything, and nothing too. You had to ogle him from afar, watching his cute butt in those well-fit pants as he walked out the door following closely behind your mother. Who was wearing your dress.

You made a mental note to find an industrial shredder to take care of that ruined fabric when she returned it.

At Marzetti’s dinner was going well, much better than Anakin had expected to be honest. It was almost nice, in a weird way. The food was good, the atmosphere was pretty… he couldn’t help but be startled every now and again when he glanced over and didn’t see you across the table from him. You’d love this place, and damn he’d love to see you in it. He just knew the lighting would show off those sexy bedroom eyes you *swore* you never knew when you were making.

The biggest downside was that this place was alittle too expensive to be wasted on your mother. This kind of luxury should be reserved for his princess.

After an hour’s worth of awkward small talk and stupid conversational questions, Anakin got up to use the restroom.

When he returned he was shocked to say the least. The table had been cleared and all that remained was the check, and a thick manila envelope, he hesitantly picked it up and tucked it under his arm.

Fast walking to the front of the restaurant he quickly paid, despite the hostess’s request for him to return to his table because ‘payment is collected at your seat’. He fumbled with his car keys and clicked the lock button to quickly locate his black vintage Camaro… no dice.

He stood frozen in the middle of the parking lot, spinning slowly and spotting his parking spot… where the car *should* have been.

“That bitch took my fucking Camaro.” He whispered to himself, internally screaming at himself for being a responsible adult and having a spare set of keys safely stashed away.

He already had an idea of what was in that envelope, but now he didn’t even need to look at the title page. He just needed a goddamn pen.

Final Part

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