#nor did it give off the impression | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyney · 5 months

Text

────𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒────

IN WHICH: You accidentally whack Wriothesley in the nose during a training session and feel bad !!

PAIRINGS: Wriothesley x (GN!) Reader

SCENT: fluff but gets kind of nsfw towards the end ??

WARNINGS: uh wrio makes a comment implying masturbation towards the end? that and you guys just makeout, lol.

FLORIST’S NOTE: Reader is a mix between Wrio’s and Sigewinne’s assistant !! Also happy belated new years, blossoms !!

SONG: Bang! Bang! (K,NAAN & Adam Levine)

───────────2023 !! #©LOVELYNEY

WRIOTHESLEY LAUGHS as you drag him through the Fortress of Meropide, drawing the attention of those around you. Though typically, you’d feel uncomfortable, embarrassed, or perhaps self-conscious under the scrutinizing gaze of others, this time, it’s different. Your attention is focused solely on Wriothesley as he holds his free hand up to his bloodied nose. Knowing Wriothesley and his job here, it’s easy to imagine it resulting from a scuffle with a particularly stubborn criminal or something along those lines. However, the truth cannot be farther from that. In actuality, you’re the one responsible for this bloody nose. . . Allow me to expand on the situation a little.

Around a week or so ago, he unexpectedly marched into your office and insisted you learn how to fight. His motives for the sudden declaration were not out of a lack of appreciation for your work at the Fortress but rather a desire for your protection while he’s away. On another note, he believes you’re too “reserved and gentle” with others—“too much like a frightened kitten rather than a fearsome lion,” as he blatantly put it. It was a comparison you found somewhat degrading, yet you couldn’t deny it did speak the truth of your nature. In the end, you decided to comply with his wishes, and from there on out, he started to teach you self-defense and train you.

Cut to the present: Wriothesley pulled you aside for your daily training session. Everything was going swimmingly at first, with you defending yourself from his attacks as usual. Then, amid it all, you accidentally hit him square in the nose and rather hard at that. The punch was neither intentional nor malicious, but it still managed to send him stumbling back and clutching his nose in pain. A tsunami of guilt and worry flooded your system as you frantically apologized to him, but he simply brushed it off and smiled. The look in his eyes was one of mild shock but also of something more. . . fond. He seemed amused rather than angry or annoyed, appearing to be impressed and even a little smitten.

Sigewinne enters the infirmary with the medical supplies you requested, stopping just inside the door to ask you a question. She furrows her brow in concern, noticing the panic in your expression. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of him, Mx. (Y/N)? You’re a bit pale. . . Maybe you should sit and rest for a little while,” she offers kindly.

Wriothesley observes you with a lovesick expression as you prepare a cotton swab, your tongue poking out between your lips from concentration. His heart singes when you take his hand that’s pressed to his nose and lay it gently on his lap; your skin is warm and soft compared to his, scarred and calloused, from his duties here at the Fortress.

When you assure her with that enchanting smile of yours—the same one that drives him wild—it feels like his entire body has been set on fire, and he’s certain you can feel that fire when you press your palm to his cheek to keep him still. “D—Don’t worry, Sigewinne. I’ll be alright. Thank you, though.” You answer calmly, despite your hold on him being slightly shaky.

With a brief nod of her head, Sigewinne slips out of the room, leaving you and Wriothesley alone. As you press the cotton swab to his nose, he lets out a sharp hissing sound as the disinfectant works its magic. “Ouch! Shit, maybe I didn’t give you enough credit. That was a hell of a punch. . .” he chortles, trying to lighten up your mood a little. But his amusement falters when you pout, your face a heartbreakingly adorable sight.

“I—I really am sorry, Your Grace! I didn’t expect to hit you so hard. . . In—In fact, I thought you’d move out of the way before I even got the chance too,” you lament and carefully tilt his chin up, making sure you cleaned all the blood off. “How badly does it hurt? Do—Do you want me to go get some painkillers or ice? Please, just—”

“Breathe, (Y/N).” Wriothesley’s tone is soothing as he speaks, seeming intent on consoling you. “I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart. I’ve dealt with far worse scuffs than this. So, please, don’t think for a second I’m mad at you or anything of that nature. I’m more proud than anything, really.” He adds, melting under the warmth and care of your gaze. He finds himself feeling a little selfish in this moment, wishing you’d always spend so much time doting on him. You’re always so engrossed in your work, and as much as he admires that side of you, he’s also become increasingly smitten with you without you even batting an eye. Your self-absorbed disposition has made you oblivious to his adoring eyes, and he can’t help but feel a mix of heartbreak and longing as he considers how blind you are to his affections. “Hm. . . Now that we’re alone, there is something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while,” he admits, humming contentedly as your hand presses to his face once more, oblivious to the surge of adrenaline that shoots through his veins with every touch. Your affectionate actions result from your nurturing demeanor, but he begs silently for them to mean something more.

Your puzzled expression, bearing a resemblance to a confused puppy, only further softens the gentle smile on Wriothesley’s face. “Is that so? Is—is there a reason you’re only bringing it up now?” You inquire anxiously, teeth sinking into your lower lip. You hope that your unexpected punch wasn’t the last straw for him firing you or something like that. The worry in your voice and tension in your body language betray your deep concern, and Wriothesley finds himself smitten by your innocence and tenderness.

The duke pauses momentarily, seeming to mull something over in his mind. “It’s been harder to get you alone these days, with you always engrossed in your paperwork or helping Sigewinne. I can’t bring myself to tear you away when you’re always so faithful.” He acknowledges. His eyes linger over your lips for just a moment too long, his imagination taking over as he considers the softness of them and how they taste. His heart pounds against his ribcage as he holds back the urge to kiss those teeth away and murmur how he’s the only one allowed to ruin your lips.

You mutter the words, “My apologies, your Grace,” as you press the bandage to the bridge of his nose. Taking a step back, you freeze under the intensity of his gaze. “Well, you have my full, unrivaled attention as of r-right now...?” You try to sound confident, but your sheepish expression gives you away.

Wriothesley hums in response, amused and enticed by the sudden color that washes over your face. Clearing his throat, he slips one hand around your waist and pulls you flush against his warm frame. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as he allows the intensity of the moment to sink in. “Oh? Do I now? Good,” he purrs, his voice deep and velvety as it echoes in your ears—sending vibrations throughout your core. You shudder when the smooth of his fingers glide over the exposed skin on your waist, and he almost finds it a little sadistic with how much he’s enjoying you squirm when he hasn’t even done anything.

Your breathing becomes a touch erratic as you feel the lingering touch of his hand against your waist. You attempt to mask your growing excitement, skin prickling with electricity. Despite your best efforts, there’s a faint quiver in your words that you can only hope he doesn’t notice. “G—Go on. . .”

Sadly, nothing gets past Wriothesley’s gaze, and he’s able to take note of your trembling voice and hands; he isn’t the duke for nothing, after all. He can’t help but feel the boost to his ego when he realizes he has a tight grip over you at this moment. With a swift tug, you’re suddenly pushed against his broad chest, eyes blown wide. He chuckles as you choke over your words, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “You know, (princess/prince). . . I can’t tell if you’re just dense or trying to prove something to yourself.” The raven-haired male teases. “I’ve been smitten with you for weeks now, you know,” he presses, eyes trained on your expression to read any changes. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re as aware as your actions suggest—or if you have been merely feigning ignorance. Please, explain yourself.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the magnitude of Wriothesley’s words settles in; he’s so direct and brazen with his declaration that it sucks all the breath out of your lungs. Your mind races as you grapple with the sudden realization that he is just as enamored with you as you are with him. Your expression must speak louder than words because as you open your lips to speak, Wriothesley closes the distance—slotting his mouth on yours.

It sends all your senses reeling like they’ve been drenched in ice water after burning for too long. Like a balm and a spark, it’s both a soothing salve and a blazing inferno, comforting and ravaging you in equal measure. All the tension of your attraction has suddenly become a physical manifestation, the culmination of all the unspoken words and feelings that have gone unsaid for too long.

Wriothesley pulls himself even closer to you, his passion only intensifying the longer the kiss carries on. The feeling of his body pressing against yours ignites a primal urge within you, driving the kisses to become more intense. His hands slide further down the bare flesh of your back, tracing your waist in a possessive claim to your body. His tongue dives underneath your bottom lip; it probes between them, trying to gain access to the interior of your mouth.

A noise akin to a muffled whimper escapes your throat as his tongue pushes into your mouth with a feverish, nearly desperate need. The intensity of the sensation is overwhelming, and you feel yourself shudder with a sense of raw desire as his hand slides down from your hip to your thigh, his fingers squeezing and digging into the soft flesh. His touch is both tender and possessive, sending your nerves reeling.

When his fingers climb closer up your thighs, you plant your hands on his face and gently push his head away, his mouth chasing after yours instantaneously. You sigh softly, your face flushed scarlet from the heat of the situation. “Wriothesley. . . We are still in your office. Anyone can walk in at any time.” You chuckle, swiping the saliva from his bottom lip.

His body hums with contentment at the breathless sound of his name coming from your lips. He lets out a displeased huff as he nestles his nose in the crook of your neck, sharply inhaling your scent and drowning himself in the warmth of your body. He absentmindedly starts nipping at your skin, “And? I’ve had enough nights getting off—”

“O—Okayokay! As an. . . apology for keeping you waiting, how about after work, we fulfill those fantasies of yours?” You chuckle nervously and thread your fingers through his hair, smiling when he leans his entire body onto you. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way some of the inmates looked at me when I dragged you in here. . . I don’t think I could recover if they walked in and found out they guessed right.”

Wriothesley’s laughter is like a deep, thunderous rumble that soon after swarms your stomach with butterflies. His kisses pepper your face in response, the sweet scent of your skin filling him with a sense of contentment. He pulls away and smiles down at you, the heat and adoration in his eyes impossible to miss. “After work, then,” he repeats and holds up his pinky, signaling you to do the same. Rolling your eyes, you indulge him and hook your pinky to his—a cutesy gesture veiled in a not-so-innocent promise.

#꒱₊˚ fawn’s flowers #꒱₊˚ lumindounce bells #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley fluff #genshin fluff

976 notes · View notes

artemis32 · 4 months

Text

Locksley

yandere Batfam x reader

yes, i do love them. yes, it is a problem. yes, i will make this my entire personality for the next two and a half months

also, necessary disclaimer, there’s a piece of dialogue in this that i took from a youtube asmr channel (bite me, they’re interesting and i’m starved of attention) - it’s jimち asmr, if you’re interested

word count - 4.8k

mbe masterlist

You wouldn’t call yourself a hero, not in any sense of the word. Likewise, you didn’t consider yourself a villain. You were something in between - you did bad things for good reasons, you did good things for bad reasons.

Living in Gotham changed people. No matter how kind or well-intentioned, everyone ended up corrupt sooner or later. Some just fell further from grace than others.

The people you helped would argue that you were a hero, someone who deserved recognition and respect for your actions. The people you stole from tended to disagree.

You didn’t care much about what you were. Heroes, villains… They were all the same in your eyes. They wrecked havoc and left people like you to deal with the aftermath - an ordinary citizen who had neither the means nor the aspirations to fix what they’d broken.

****

You started years ago, before you were even a teenager.

It was small things at first. Single fruits, a loaf of bread, a blanket, cough syrup. Things people wouldn’t usually notice.

You realised pretty soon that you were good at stealing, good at getting away without people noticing. Very good.

Stealing felt justified in your young mind. You told yourself that it was okay. It was okay because you weren’t stealing for yourself. Never for yourself. Never committing a crime for personal benefit.

No, you stole to help others. You did what you could to help those that were too weak or scared to help themselves.

In those early years, when you were still young and hopeful, you likened yourself to Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor.

Now, years later, the sentiment had faded.

You still stole from the rich. You still gave everything you stole to the poor.

Poverty in Gotham was a disease. The densely populated apartment blocks in the Narrows, where you lived, housed more people than it should have, and those people had become somewhat of a family to you. Or at least as close as you’d ever get. So you did what you could to keep them safe and alive. Stealing food to keep them fed, stealing clothes and blankets to keep them warm, stealing medicine to keep them healthy, stealing toys to keep the children hopeful.

That was your job, your purpose in life.

It made you feel as though you had a use. Seeing how people’s faces brightened, how happy they looked to see you when you bought a spare blanket or some extra food, or a toy a hopeful child had been eyeing for a while, it made you feel as though your life wasn’t completely meaningless.

Your life had a purpose. And that purpose was to help those who couldn’t help themselves.

So you did.

And you never got caught. Not once.

Until you did.

****

This uniform is so fucking uncomfortable. How do these people do this all day? You think, slipping your index finger beneath the buttoned collar of your shirt, tugging at it in a lacklustre attempt to catch a breath.

As much as recon was necessary, it was also an annoyance most of the time. It was times like these that you thanked the stars above that you weren’t born into a wealthy family. Stuffy galas and boring board meetings were never your thing.

The crowd of wealthy tycoons and aristocrats barely paid the waitstaff a second thought, primping and preening as they mingled amongst one another, trying to impress people who were too self centred to notice them.

You would’ve rolled your eyes and gagged at the sight, had it not acted as the perfect cover for you.

Stealing the name tag and uniform off of the service roster was simple enough, and sneaking in through the service entrance of the disgustingly lavish manor was a breeze. Now, as you flit through the crowd of supercilious pricks, you feel grateful for your own nondescript appearance.

Blending in with the average service worker was a blessing, one you took full advantage of as you scanned the large ballroom. There were several large windows, massive panes of glass bordered with ornately carved ebony wood frames. The doors were just as grand, two sets of double doors, and a smaller service door in the very corner of the room, all dark stained ebony to match the windows, were just as detailed and lavish.

It made you sick.

How could these people live so wastefully? How could they live so easily? Their biggest worry was keeping their faces youthful and their houses fancy. It didn’t make sense. Even now, after months, years of doing this, it still confused you - the fact that you lived such a jarringly different life, one that seemed so pathetic in comparison to the vapid crowd that surrounded you.

At the very least, it eased your conscience, and made your job easier. You felt no pity, no remorse for stealing from people like those gathered around you. Very few of them had actually worked for what they had in life. No, it was handed to them at birth. Life was funny like that. Those who work hard are left impoverished, and those who give in to gluttony and greed never have to work a day in their lives for what they have.

You discarded the now empty serving tray behind a potted plant, slipping out the large double doors and into the empty corridor beyond. The halls were silent and dark, moonlight casting large shadows over the walls.

The manor’s antiquated runner rug muffled the sound of your footsteps as you crept along the wall of the corridor, carefully taking note of each door, drawing up a mental map as you continued.

Every corner you turned was more extravagant than the last. You could practically feel the wealth seeping out of the walls. It disgusted you.

At least it was nice to look at.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve made it up to the East Wing, the furthest part of the manor from the ballroom. It seems to be the personal quarters of whoever the hell owns this abomination of a house. On the trek up several flights of stairs, you’d passed a collection of bedrooms, several smaller living rooms, and,to your great delight, a study. Though, ‘study’ feels like the wrong word to describe the room.

It looks more like a grotesque mix of a library and a maze, and if you were any more wet behind the ears, you might’ve been intimidated by the sheer size of it. In fact, if you’d stumbled upon a room like this a few years ago, you’d have been in awe. The value of a single item in this room would have you set for life.

But you don’t allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, keeping steely focus as you move silently, swiftly between towering shelves. You don’t take anything. Not yet. The time for that would come later. Right now, you focus instead on gathering information. The layout of the manor, alarms, sensors, residents.

The last part was always the hardest, especially with people like the elite of Gotham city. People came and went as they pleased, and the odds of you running into someone was higher in extravagant homes like this, what with their abundance of butlers and maids. But you’d avoided them all up to this point, never once encountering anyone in more than a decade of prowling.

And this manor - the famous Wayne residence - never housed more than a dozen people on any given night. You knew the staff and groundskeepers all went home in the evening, leaving the property all but abandoned at night.

You reach the end of the room, pausing only to glance over at the large grandfather clock nestled between two shelves before you turn on your heel and stride back towards the door. You’d gotten what you came for. Now, it was time to take your leave, full mental map in tow.

Getting out of the gala was a lot easier than getting in, and you took the time to register the smaller details of the manor. In this time, you confirmed one thing you knew for certain:

Wayne manor disgusted you in all its excessive wealth.

Bruce Wayne may have appeared as some kind of well meaning philanthropist or humanitarian, but you knew his pockets ran deep. Much of his wealth, generational and unearned, was hoarded while the rest of Gotham was left to rot in poverty.

It was, in part, the reason that you didn’t feel bad about what you were doing. He, alongside the rest of Gotham’s elite, had done nothing to earn what they had. You were just levelling out the playing field, giving those in the Narrows a fair chance at life.

And if you had to dirty your hands to help them, then so be it.

****

The thick carpet muffles your landing, though you don’t really need it.

Over the years, you’d mastered your movements, learning how to move silently, without notice. It’d been born from necessity, rather than genuine desire. Growing up in the Narrows wasn’t good for much, but at least you learnt pretty quickly that it was easier to get by if you went unnoticed.

You gently close the window, pushing the polished wooden frame with your fingertips, wincing at the soft click of the lock. Any noise was too much.

The corridors are empty as you silently sweep through the manor, as expected. You aim for the lavish library you’d scoped out a week prior, mental checklist ready.

Avoiding the cameras and alarms is easy enough, especially when the majority of them scoped the perimeter, rather than the interior. The lack of security, combined with the excessive luxury confirmed what you’d always thought.

Rich people were fucking dumb.

They really thought their money could protect them from everything. Well, there was one thing that no amount of money could save them from.

People like you. People with absolutely nothing to lose.

You had no family, no prized possessions, no desire or greed. And you sure as hell didn’t harbour any fear for people like them.

Eventually, you arrive in the East Wing, slowing your stride slightly. You strain your ears for any hint of movement, blending seamlessly into the shadows as you prowl the corridor. The ornately carved solid wood door opens with a silent swoosh, and you slip into the room a mere moment later.

Someone’s here.

You take note of it a moment too late, slipping between two towering shelves the instant you hear the soft murmurs of a conversation. The lighting is dim, shadows dancing across the room, sourced from the crackling fireplace at the back of the study.

Fuck.

It takes you a beat longer than usual to calm your now racing heart, and the instant you get it under control, you’re back to creeping along the shadows, hands darting out to grab at ornaments and books, shoving them silently into every pocket and gap in your suit and small backpack.

If you could, you’d have brought a bigger bag, but you needed to travel light - light enough to make a swift exit if needed.

You manage to grab quite a few things without nearing the source of conversation, which you’ve now determined to be two men murmuring lowly near the fireplace. Relief settles heavy in your bones as you creep back towards the door, thankful for the numerous shelves hiding you from view.

Lady Luck was a fickle being, and it seemed she’d decided your time was up.

When you’re about ten steps away from the exit, senses on high alert, time seems to slow, the baroque handle dropping slowly as the door is pushed open. You’re back in the shadows before it fully opens, back pressed against the wall while you weigh your options.

The door is out of the question. There’s no way to slip out without being noticed. The window, maybe?

One glance at the tightly latched windows across the room dash that idea immediately.

Panic swirls up your spine, threatening to take over. If you got caught here, there’s no telling what would happen to you.

As you scramble to come up with a plan, the door swings open and a man steps into the room. He’s young, fresh-faced, perhaps a year or two younger than you. He’s handsome too, in the way aristocrats often were - light eyes, tanned skin, full lips. He was striking.

And he turned to look right at you.

You’re up, on top of the nearest shelf seconds before his eyes slide towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut, sweat slicked palms pressed flat against the dusty wooden shelf underneath you.

Fuck.

He lingers for a moment, taking a step closer into the shadows, to the spot you’d stood in moments ago.

There’s no way he knew. He couldn’t.

After several tense, painful seconds, his brow twitches and he turns on his heel, striding over to the other two men, his gait confident and swift. You let out a soft sigh, relaxing only a bit as you try to stop the nervous tremors in your hands.

Escape comes hours later, near three in the morning, when all three men eventually retire to their rooms. You couldn’t get out of that eerie, shadowed manor fast enough.

****

“You really should lock your door at night, especially in this area. You never know when some creep might think about inviting themselves in. Windows too, for that matter - or else B&E’s would just be… Well, E’s.”

It was barely two in the morning. You’d crawled into bed, still fully clothed, less than an hour ago, exhausted from a long day of work in the hellscape that was hospitality. You hadn’t even had the energy to look over your next few potential hits, never mind take a shower or have dinner.

So it’s no surprise that you’re disoriented, thrown off guard when you wake up to a masked man leaning far too casually against your derelict old couch, slim katana resting comfortably in his hand while he twirls it around.

“Then again,” he continues, ignoring the wide eyed look you give him. You flinch back, the movement too slight to notice as he straightens and strides over to you. “You’ve made my job easier. So I should thank you.”

He stands, hovering over you, arms hanging casually at his sides beneath his cloak as he regards you. The mask he wears hides his eyes, and it feels as though you’re staring up into dark, never-ending pits rather than eyes.

“Hm. You look different than what I expected. Younger. How old are you?”

If you weren’t so terrified, you might’ve laughed. Here, in your cramped, dingy bedsit, stood someone who appeared more demon than man, and he was presumptuous enough to critique your appearance. Worse still is the fact that you might’ve answered him, had he not swiftly changed topics.

“It doesn’t matter. A criminal is a criminal. Blackgate has a cell with your name on it.”

The train rumbles by and shakes the thin walls of your apartment, casting an eerie half glow bright enough to just barely light up your apartment.

Your blood runs cold.

Robin.

You’re moving before he has time to register what’s happening, tossing your worn knit blanket at his head as you leap from your bed, the small single’s frame groaning beneath you at the abrupt movement. You’re across the room when he recovers, hand on the doorknob. Seconds later, a vaguely bird-shaped dagger embeds itself into the doorframe right beside your hand.

“Don’t move.”

For once, despite the alarm bells blaring in your head, you listen. You fight against your instincts and the burning in your limbs as he approaches, closer and closer with every taunting step until he’s right in front of you, another stupid bird-shaped dagger nicking the soft underside of your jaw.

“You’re coming with me. Peacefully.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance at his tone. It’s so condescending, as if he thinks he’s talking to a child. If this was anyone else, you might’ve fought back, but of the list of people you avoided, the Gotham vigilantes associated with Batman were top of the list.

They were so irritatingly self-righteous, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d view you as a scum of the earth criminal, should they ever catch you. It was part of the reason you’d avoided them so religiously, and you’d done a great job of it up until this point. The only question on your mind right now, though, was-

“How?”

Robin tilts his head, mouth flat. “How what?”

You lift your chin a bit more as he raises his dagger, softly piercing the skin, as if in a warning.

“How did you find me?”

If you could see his eyes, you were sure they’d hold an incredulous look, as if to ask ‘are you stupid?’. But you weren’t. Not like this. You weren’t sloppy. And you sure as hell didn’t step on toes when you stole, especially not enough to gain the attention of a run of the mill vigilante. There was no reason for him to be standing here, in your apartment, all but pinning you to the door.

“How did you find me?” you insist, pushing forward despite the slight sting against your jaw. “What did you see?”

He sets his jaw, tilting his head down as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Stealing from Bruce Wayne of all people was a dumb move.”

Your blood chills in your veins.

So someone did see me then… That man. That boy. Fuck.

“It was especially dumb to stick around for four hours afterwards.”

At that moment, you weigh your options.

If you go with him peacefully, all but turn yourself in, Blackgate would be the least of your worries. You stole from Bruce Wayne.

Wronging such an influential man would have its own set of unique consequences, and it wasn’t yourself you were worried about. Anyone you’d helped in the process would be incriminated. All those innocent people, the women and children, the elderly people who lived around you…

No. You couldn’t go with him.

Prison was one thing. Endangering those you swore to help was another entirely.

With your mind made up, everything else is easy.

You grab the wrought iron coat rack beside the door and swing it upwards, aiming for his head without a second thought. The moment he releases you and shoves you back, you’re out the door, sprinting down several flights of stairs.

Too slow. Faster. Move faster.

You hear him behind you, footsteps ringing out like a death knell.

He wants you to hear him. You know he does. A vigilante like that, someone as skilled as him - you wouldn’t hear him unless he wanted you too.

Honestly, you were quite proud of yourself. You’d made it further than you’d expected. The uneven gravel stings against your bare feet as you sprint through the side alley, aiming for the main street.

It was pointless. You knew it was. Even if you could make it that far, it wouldn’t amount to anything. No one would help you. No one could help you.

Regardless, you still feel disappointed when he grabs you by the collar of your thin, old sleepshirt, yanking you back. The exit to the alley, a mere two metres away, seems to mock you.

In that moment, you think about what you’d done. You truly think, and realise that you didn’t regret a single thing. You didn’t care about what happened to you. Everything you’d taken had helped so many people, far more than it would have helped Bruce Wayne, gathering dust in his old study.

Everyone had been so happy, so relieved at how much you’d managed to help them. The amount you’d received for the stolen goods had been enough to care for everyone in your building ten times over.

So no, you didn’t regret your decision.

This time, Robin doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries, gripping the back of your neck tightly and knocking you out a moment later.

****

“Who is she?”

“Her name is-”

“I know what her damn name is. I mean, who is she?”

Tim pauses, eyeing Damian with a strange expression, clearing his throat and continuing after throwing a perplexed glance at Bruce.

“...well, uh, she lives in the Narrows, has for more than a decade. She went to Gotham public high school and received her high school diploma, with no further education. She’s… pretty unremarkable, to be honest. Works in a shitty diner in the East End, earns less than minimum wage...” he trails off for a moment and shrugs. “There’s not much else to say.”

Damian clenches his jaw, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Her address. What is it?”

Again, Tim throws Bruce a glance, sharper this time, choosing his words wisely.

“I… don’t think that’s necessary information. It’s not a big deal, she only took a few things. And it doesn’t seem like she kept any of it. Actually, I’m kind of impressed–”

He’s cut off in an instant, Damian’s glare sharp and filled with rage.

“It does matter. She stole from us. She–”

The green-eyed youth sucks in a sharp breath, dropping his arms to his side, flexing his hands.

“...she was right there. She was inside the manor, ten steps away from me, and I didn’t fucking notice. It took us two weeks to notice she’d been here at all!”

His words are like venom, belying the real reason he’s so worked up, and Bruce watches him with a blank expression, stepping forward after he’s calmed down slightly, placing a heavy palm on his shoulder.

“I understand your frustrations, but you can’t allow them to cloud your judgement. Don’t allow your emotions to rule your actions. While I agree we should find her, I don’t think we need to be as… extreme as you’re suggesting. She’s just a civilian - albeit a very… efficient one. Take some time, calm down, and we’ll discuss what to do from there, okay?”

Damian shrugs the hand off his shoulder, stalking out of the Batcave with a few short, clipped words thrown over his shoulder.

“Yes, Father. Of course.”

****

A very frazzled looking man is the first thing you see when you come to, temple aching terribly where the angered Robin had decked you hours earlier. Presently, the man hovering over you sighs when he sees your eyes open, though it doesn’t seem to be a sound of relief. His mouth tugs down at the corners, brows pinching together.

“Don’t.”

He presses a palm to your shoulder, keeping you flat on your back when you try to sit up. His tone is stern, flat, accentuated by the dark bags under his eyes. His shoulders sag and he loosens his hold, fingers flexing against your shoulder.

“Just… stay there. Don’t move.”

The words seem more like a plea than a demand, but you listen regardless. Even if you wanted to move, the pain rippling through your skull makes you too dizzy to sit up, let alone stand.

“...do you remember anything?” he murmurs, bright blue eyes roaming your face worriedly.

Licking your dry, cracked lips, you avoid his gaze. Would it be better to lie, you wonder? Would he know? You had a feeling he might. And you had a feeling that somehow, being honest just this once would help you a lot more than lying ever could.

You swallow thickly, glancing back at him before answering.

“Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, head lolling forward as he mutters.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Before he can ask you another question, before you can say anything else, there’s a flurry of movement at the entrance to the room, several people storming in. The racket makes your head throb, and you feel faint and woozy as you lean back against the admittedly plump pillows.

You wonder distantly why you weren’t in a prison cell or a hospital. If you’d been in a better headspace and perhaps not concussed, you might’ve been concerned, but it was effort enough to focus on staying conscious at the moment.

“No, Damian! I have had enough! You explicitly went against my instructions– You kidnapped a civilian!”

Chancing a small peek at the arguing duo, you catch sight of little more than two blob-like shapes, the taller of the two yelling animatedly while the shorter stands stoically, staring off to the side, towards–

Towards you.

“She’s awake.”

That has the taller man falling silent for a moment. He sighs heavily, murmuring.

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, I have to deal with your mess.”

With that, he turns and strides over to you, placing his hand on the shoulder of the young man at your bedside, a silent dismissal. He remains standing while the other two leave, staring down at you expressionlessly.

Bruce Wayne.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

…I’m so dead.

You jolt up, wincing at the pounding in your head as you blurt out.

“Mr Wayne, I–”

He holds up a palm, silencing you.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

There’s a pause, one in which he looks down at you before sitting down with a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“I don’t care that you stole from me. Usually, I'd just file a police report and go about my day, but my son… Well, you upset him.”

He leans back in his seat, unbuttoning his blazer.

“You see, he’s a prideful boy. It’s never caused problems before, at least, not like this. I mean, involving a civilian, that is. But you seem to have struck a nerve. He’s holding quite a bit of animosity towards you.”

Bruce leans forward again, elbows resting on his thighs as he regards you with a critical eye.

“And I’ll admit, you caught me too, to a degree. You broke into my home without my notice. You were right under my nose.” He huffs a disbelieving laugh, as if the very idea of you evading him was impossible. “It’s impressive, I won’t deny it.”

A strange flutter fills your chest, something that feels oddly akin to pride. Bruce Wayne of all people was complimenting you. Or, at least, it felt like a compliment.

“Why is he so upset?”

You regret the question the instant it leaves your mouth. His gaze, which had been slowly warming up, turns cold and flat at that.

“...because you slipped right by him. Do you understand what a feat that is? How much you’ve wounded his pride? For you, an untrained young woman from the slums of Gotham to have fooled him, a trained assassin. Robin. You understand, don’t you? He took it as a very personal offence.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Was this some kind of twisted punishment for stealing? Did this man, Bruce Wayne, really expect you to believe that his son, the sweetheart of Gotham’s high society, was the Robin? And an assassin to boot?

He huffs a silent laugh, brows raising as he regards the expression on your face.

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s shocking. Damian Wayne, Robin? You’ll get used to it.”

Your hands are shaking now, sweaty and white knuckled as you clutch the bedsheets, and you feel your blood pressure rising. If you weren’t careful, you’d pass out soon. Swallowing thickly, you ask the question urgently gnawing at the forefront of your mind.

“If he’s Robin, then…?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. He was handsome, in an older gentleman kind of way - tall, strong, sturdy build. Even the wrinkles and lines marring his face looked attractive. No wonder women fell over themselves in an attempt to catch his attention.

“Yes. You catch on quickly, don’t you? Well, that’s to be expected from Gotham’s own do-good Robin Hood, I suppose. Yes, I am Batman.”

A choked noise dies out in your chest.

Of course I’d steal from Batman. Of everyone in Gotham, this is who I choose? God, why is my luck so shitty?

His admission sows a seed of unease in the pit of your stomach, and your eyes dart around the room for the first time since you’d arrived. It was large, larger than what you were used to, though the only furniture was the bed, a vanity, and a small couch near the window. The window that was locked tight, covered with solid iron burglar bars. Bars you had the sinking feeling were put there to keep you in.

You turn to him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

He stands, posture straight and assertive as he eyes you callously. “Because, unfortunately, your actions, and my son’s impulsive decision have both pushed me to make a decision I have no choice in. It means that, until we decide what to do with you, you won’t be allowed to leave–”

Evidently, his admittance to essentially abducting you is what sends your blood pressure through the roof. You pass out before he finishes his sentence, praying with the last of your fading consciousness that this was all some twisted nightmare.

#yandere #dark content #female reader #dc #batman #robin hood #yandere batfam x reader #x reader #damian wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #batfam #robin #red robin #dc robin #robin hood reader #batfam x reader

655 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 2 months

Note

I don't know if you accept requests, but I'm going to risk it. Did you see the last photo of Harry Collett and Tom Taylor (the future Cregan Stark)? Could you write a Harry/Jace x reader x Tom/Cregan threesome? I'm obsessed with them

Push & Pull

It's basically Lannister tradition to create a scandal on your nameday, or maybe that's just you.

Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader x Cregan Stark | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, jealousy?, am I the drama!YN, typos, etc.

A/N: hello nonnie! i do take requests, but i dont explicitly state it because ive been having a hard time writing. i had an idea for a jace fic when you sent this, so it felt really timely, but then that fic i went to die 💀✋ so im tryna revive my spark writing smth else. i know you said a threesome but i just 💔 the best i can do is them tryna one up each other. I AM SO HYPE FOR THEM FR FR but i didnt really see the actors' photo together, just them in the trailer

"Is that the older Velaryon boy?" I mutter to my brother in between taking a sip of wine.

Jason turns where I'm looking and takes a sip of his own wine, "indeed."

"He's rather easy on the eyes, isn't he," I smile at my Jason.

He raises a brow, "and you are rather engaged, aren't you?"

"Engaged to be engaged," I shrug, looking around the room again, "and I do not even see our man of the hour anywhere."

"Lord Stark is travelling here from Winterfell. One would expect him to be late."

"Are you not the same brother of mine that said impressions have their weight in gold?"

Jason narrows his eyes, "clearly that was Tyland."

I roll my eyes at him and look away. I quickly turn back to Jason after I notice something, "oh, look. He's coming over."

"Lady Lannister."

I avert my gaze from my brother, to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, who gives me a nod in regard.

"My prince," I smile and curtsy.

He smiles back then turns to my brother, "Lord Lannister."

Jason raises a brow and nods curtly.

"If your sister will allow it," Jacaerys turns to me, "I would like to ask her for a dance."

I giggle under my breath. I share a look with my brother. Jason assesses my expression before turning back to the dark haired man, "my sister is not accepting dances this moment."

I turn to Jacaerys as he gives me a questioning look, "may I enquire why?"

"I hurt my ankle," I mutter, "whilst getting off the carriage."

Jacaerys' forehead visibly wrinkles, "you took a carriage here?"

I purse my lips into a soft smile, "I did."

"To Casterly Rock?"

"I was visiting a lady friend who lives not too far from here."

"... I see."

Just as Jacaerys says this, the doors open, and Lord Cregan Stark's arrival is announced as he walks in. As he swaggers in, I am struck by a delicious idea.

"On second thought, my prince," I extend a hand, "my ankle is feeling rather better now."

I feel my brother give me a dirty look, but before he can say anything, I am whisked away for a dance.

Jacaerys leads me as we dance, holding my hand firmly as we glide across the floor, and pulling me closer than what was needed when the movement called for it.

The truth was, I didn't mind it, but there was nothing I loved more than putting a man in his place.

"You're being quite familiar with your touches, Jacaerys," I mutter when we as close enough.

I see his eyes light up when I call him by his first name. He chuckles, "can you blame me for wanting to be so?"

I hum as he spins me around, "I doubt many refuse your advances anyway, with the life of a princess up for prize."

Jacaerys ends up behind me as we continue with the dance. I feel his breathing as we continue with the next steps. Once we pull away and face each other again, I speak, "it is an honor to be the first."

Jacaerys looks at me in confusion when I curtsy rather than take his hand. I smile, "I have another waiting on me," then walk away.

It doesn't take long for me to weave my way out of the dancing bodies, nor to find the said person waiting for me.

I press my lips together into a soft smile as I approach the towering man, "Lord Stark."

Cregan nods and extends a hand, "my lady."

I take his hand and smile when he kisses my knuckles, "I do hope your travels were safe."

Cregan straightens up and tilts his head, "safe?"

He takes a step forward and brushes my knuckles, "I arrived to see my future bride ensnared in the jaws of a dragon."

I clasp my hands together and raise a brow, " I believe the Velaryon's sigil is that of a seahorse."

"And I believe he is set to inherit the throne after his mother, the king's appointed heir."

I purse my lips and lock eyes with Jacaerys from across the room. A moment later, I turn back to Cregan and smile, "political talk has always bored me."

He shifts on one leg, "I would not bore you on your nameday."

"Then dance with me."

Cregan takes a second, then offers me a hand.

Not a moment later, the two of us are dancing with the rest of the crowd. Cregan is much more wary with his touch, more courteous, and modest.

I cannot help but tease him with lingering touches and with the bat of my lashes, "you are surprisingly graceful for someone of your stature."

Cregan chuckles, hands gripping my waist with more intention, "perhaps the same could be said about you, my lady."

I raise a brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, with your injured ankle and all."

I tilt my head, eyes locked on his as we change partners. I keep my attention locked on Cregan as I come back to him the next measure.

"How do you know that?"

He tucks my hair behind my ear, "your brother told me as you danced with Jacaerys Velaryon, how you humored him, despite your reluctance."

We spin around and switch partners again.

This time, I cannot keep my attention on Cregan as I find myself face to face with Jacaerys, himself.

He immediately speaks, "I did not know you were waiting upon Cregan Stark."

I do the steps with him and purse my lips, "why would you need to know who I wait upon?"

"I thought I made it clear," the corner of his lips quirk, "I wish to be familiar."

I chuckle, taken slightly off guard, "and I thought I made it clear that I did not."

Jacaerys' hold on my hip lingers, "did you?"

My breath hitches when he pulls me flush against his chest, arms around my waist as we twirl. He breaks away, seconds too long, and we change partners again.

Except I don't, and neither does Jacaerys, for then the music finds its completion. We stand in front of each other, staring, as the rest of the room breaks into applause.

"I would like to share another dance with you, my lady," says Jacaerys.

"She is already spoken for," another answers for me.

I peer up at Cregan as he comes between us. He blankly stares at Jacaerys. It lingers and becomes rather painful. Eventually, he gives him a nod in regard, "your grace."

"Lord Stark," Jacaerys clenches his jaw before nodding back.

I stare at them as they stare at each other for another prolonged moment. I purse my lips then sigh, "I am actually feeling rather parched. Would you two boys like to pour me a drink?"

The two of them turn to me, but before they could respond, I'm already heading off to the banquet table. My brother's eyes shoot daggers at me as I approach.

436 notes · View notes

inky-duchess · 5 months

Text

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Courting

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

I get asked a lot about courting, what's acceptable or what's off limits and how one may woo a prospective spouse. So let's explore how to win the hand and heart.

Meeting (not so cute?)

Firstly, it is really difficult to have a meet cute in the Edwardian era. Women and men are kept separate for most of the day, only really getting to meet at designated events: A dinner, a ball, a social event. Meeting in the park is a cute idea but a gentleman can't just approach a lady (or another gentleman) without being introduced by a third party, either a senior party or a mutual friend. However, an introduction at a ball is sort of like Cinderella's get up, it ceases to matter when the ball is over. Your gentleman must not approach a lady after that ball, he must be reintroduced. Once an introduction has been made, he can speak with her.

An Interest

When an introduction has gone satisfactory, a gentleman must make the first move by calling to her parents'/guardian's home and making a formal request to begin courting. Her parents/guardians must consent, usually leading to a short brief interview of the gentleman's family, his connections, his wealth (though in not so vulgar terms, they may inquire where he lives which is an indicator). The woman's opinion did matter, she could give her reasons for accepting or turning down the offer. When the interest is approved, the gentleman can start offering invitations.

Three's Company

Of course, just because the parents agree, doesn't mean the couple gets to be alone. The young lady will be accompanied by a chaperone either a lady's maid, a governess, her mother or another female relative. While the couple is together, the chaperone will always be a few steps behind or have them in sight. She's there to ensure that nothing more than a conversation happens. This is not only for her young lady's reputation but also to save the man from any claims of impropriety. The chaperone also serves as a sort of spy, gauging whether this relationship is worth pursuing.

Activities & Tokens

A gentleman may invite a lady out to lots of different activities. He can invite her for a promenade at a local park or gardens, out the theatre, visit her at home, invite her to galleries, to balls or to be his companion at sporting events such as the races, tennis matches or boat races. When visiting in the house, the gentleman would be expected to speak with all the family, be polite and courteous. This is how the family guages his suitably. The gentleman must provide transportation and funds for any excursion. Gifts are to be refined as well. Expensive gifts are considered vulgar and will likely be turned down. Small gifts such as flowers, books, cakes are acceptable. Gifts aren't as important as the time spent together.

Rules of Engagement

There are certain unspoken rules surrounding courtship that every gentlemen must follow for a successful courtship:

A gentleman should always pay attention to his lady, and not exclude her or cast her off for others

A gentleman never smokes in front of his lady nor forget to remove his hat.

A gentleman must always offer to refresh his lady on an excursion

A gentleman must defend his lady from any offense be it an insult or a scene unfit for her eyes or within an argument. Throwing in an apology for any offense can add a cherry on top.

However if she's the one giving offense, without any reason, the gentleman must seek to create peace, apologising on her behalf.

When walking, a lady will be placed in the inside of the pavement.

A gentleman should never spend above his means to impress his lady. Staying within his means is not only smart but a show of restraint and a glimpse of what life ought to be if they marry.

A gentleman should always offer his assistance when a lady is exiting a carriage or going up a flight of steps or carrying anything heavy.

If a man accompanies a woman to a ball, he's expected to dance with her on her first and last dances of the evening.

A gentleman must always make his intentions known and not string a lady along with no intention of marriage. He must never joke about his intentions or lead her on.

Marriage

Courtship usually promises marriage which is why a gentleman or lady should not enter into courtship unless they would consider marriage. Courtship may last a few months or a few weeks and while it is going on, both sides should consider whether marriage would be a viable option of either of them. Parents/guardians would be consulted, the gentleman must make his intentions known to her father or nearest male relative before approaching the lady and popping the question. A courtship that doesn't end in marriage is seen as a failure and may damage the reputation of both parties, leading people to wonder what happened and who is to blame. For example is a perfectly eligible gentleman will not marry a perfectly eligible lady or she turns down his offer, people will usually leap to the conclusion that there is something lacking.

LGBTQIA+ Courting

Gay people have always been here. They have courted and they have loved. Whilst it was illegal in this time in many parts of the world, love did prevail. (fun fact: lesbianism wasn't illegal because nobody wanted to explain what it was to Queen Victoria). The good thing to know is that courting whilst gay was likely easier in this period. Whilst there were restrictions and rules for straight couples and chaperones haunted their every step, none of this would happen if two people of the same gender stepped out together. Two gentleman going to the opera together or dining at a restaurant or attending a ball together (dancing in public was unlikely) or two ladies promenading in the park or attending a concert would not be examined like a courting couple. They would have more freedom to move around but of course, with legal impediments PDA was kept a minium. Whilst they wouldn't be allowed to marry legally, there was little stopping couples from moving in together. Nobody would say much about two spinsters sharing a home or two bachelors crashing together

774 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 4 months

Note

Of course I’m here. Big surprise.

I’d love some soft!dom energy from countryclub!steve when we’re being a little needy. 😇

Leighanne my beloved 👹 18+

“No, no, Thursday should be fine— mhmm. Well, talk to Richard and see what he says, surely we can’t push it much further—”

You knew fine well Steve was still on his call, you could hear his voice through his office door, his tired, bored tone sighing into the receiver. He’d told you ten minutes though, and well, that had been twenty minutes ago.

So you didn’t feel too guilty when you snuck in, lips pressed together to hide your smile and Steve glanced at you with surprise as you closed the oak door behind you. His whole office smelled like him, like leather and whisky and expensive cologne. He was sat behind his desk, an impressive thing made of dark wood and topped with a forest green leather covering.

There were files all over it, receipts and email print outs, an open cigar case that hadn’t been touched yet, a glass of something amber that was yet to be drunk. Steve looked tired, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, the white linen rolled past his elbows, his suit jacket thrown across the sofa on the other side of the room. You watched him take a hand through his hair and he smiled at you as he listened to whoever was droning on.

It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though.

So you took it upon yourself to wiggle between the desk and Steve’s legs, smiling when he shifted for you, rolling back on the wheels of the chair, his cell still pressed to his ear. He didn’t seem to be listening as intently as before when you dropped into his lap.

“What? Yeah, no, no, of course. Surely we can have the meeting over a conference call?”

You weren’t sure what meeting this call was regarding but you busied yourself with sneaking a hand into Steve’s open shirt, your palm finding warm skin and a smattering of chest hair. You felt his heart race under your fingertips, grinning when his eyes turned a little glassy and his gaze dropped to your lips.

“I’m listening,” he murmured into the phone, lying through his teeth. His hips moved under yours, adjusting himself until his hardening cock was felt properly under your ass. “New York, sure…” he trailed off, coughing a little when you leaned in to kiss at his throat.

You squirmed against him, dress riding up your thighs, Steve’s hand trailing the cotton, his eyes following behind. You watched him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, his expression appreciative. You wondered how far he’d let you take this, if he’d let you sink to your knees under his desk and—

“Hold on a sec, Fred— yeah, two seconds, I just gotta—” Steve pulled the phone away from his face, his hand covering the mouthpiece. He raised his brows at you, doing his best to hide his smile as he leaned in, nose nudging yours. “Did you need somethin’, honey?”

You pouted, dress strap slipping off your shoulder as you played up for him, lips brushing his. “You,” you whispered, as if it were a secret.

Steve smirked, a salacious thing that still made your thighs push together. He tapped at your hip then, coaxing you off of him and you wanted to tut, you wanted to protest. But the man didn’t give you any time to feel offended, nor rejected. He knocked his knuckles onto the top of his desk and nodded towards it.

“Gimme your underwear, baby and hop up.”

You blinked, lips parting.

“You got five seconds, honey, or you can wait ‘til this call is done, your choice,” Steve murmured in a song-song, his tone leaving no room for discussion. He wiggled the phone that he was still doing his best to silence. “Drop ‘em.”

With your hands curling into the sides of lace, you pulled the underwear off of your hips and down your legs, your dress rucked up indecently as you did, showing your fiancé a flash of bare skin, soft and wet in the places he liked most. You worried with the papers strewn everywhere, trying your best to gather them into a neat pile but Steve spoke from behind you once more.

“Five, four…”

You stifled a laugh, shoving them to the side before hopping onto the cool wood and Steve grinned, victorious. He moved back, the wheels of his chair skating across the floor as he settled himself in front of you. “Yeah, yeah I’m here, apologies. You were saying? New York?” Steve didn’t miss a beat as he took your underwear from your hand, stuffed them in his pocket and tapped at your knee.

You knew what he wanted, what he was silently saying.

Open.

You felt your face warm as you spread your legs, sticky thighs parting as you bared yourself to the man in the dim glow of the setting sun and the lamp on his sideboard. Steve’s lips parted, a barely audible groan coming from his chest that he covered with a cough. He used one hand to settle your feet on either side of his seat, keeping you wide for him, your cunt on show as you sat back on your elbows, waiting for his next move.

You didn’t have to wait long.

A single finger, used to trace up and down the seam of your folds, gathering the wetness there, slow and shallow. He was barely touching your clit.

“I’m sure that’ll work,” he was saying. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “If we manage to secure the Parker funding, I can’t imagine it’ll be too much trouble.”

He pulled his hand back to drag his finger over his tongue, humming at your taste and apparently something his colleague was saying. Steve didn’t miss a beat when he brought it back once more, immediately sliding his middle finger into your pussy. You whined, cutting yourself off short with teeth to your lip and Steve stilled, throwing you a warning glance.

“Oh, of course,” he continued, as if he weren’t knuckles deep in you. “If we can manage to get it into the schedule that day, we might as well go for it…” he curled his finger up before adding another, grinning when you threw your head back. “…I’m sure it’ll be a tight fit.”

Withdrawing, he leaned forward, nudging at your chin to gain your attention and Steve brushed his fingers over your lips. He pouted at you, waiting. You opened without hesitation, showing off as you stuck out your tongue and let Steve drag his slick covered digits over it. His thumb brushed your cheek in reward and then he settled back into his seat, using the same two fingers to draw circles over your clit.

A slow, soft tease, steady and messy, over and over and over—

“No, you’re fine, Fred.” Steve smirked at you, brows knitting together in faux sympathy as you screwed your face up in pleasure. He was going to make you cum while you couldn’t make a sound. “I’ve got plenty of time to talk.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #emmy rambles #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #Steve Harrington blurb #Steve baby blurb

608 notes · View notes

55sturn · 3 months

Text

✮ DOM!CHRIS WHO…/ HEADCANONS

once again inspired by @worldlxvlys bc i love anna’s content and maggie’s [@greatooglymooglyyy] attitude adjustment fic and lilah’s [@thugpugs4lrh] brat!tamer chris fic!

disclaimer: this is a bit more sexual than anything i write and it’s far from what i normally write or allude to, so please read at your own discretion. i am not your mother nor am i responsible for the content you consume.

DOM!CHRIS who does not take any attitude lightly and will not hesitate to wrap his hand in your hair, jerking your head back as he as tells you to watch your tone.

DOM!CHRIS who does not hesitate to slap your cheek, either lightly or harshly, depending on your behaviour, when you spit insults at him while he’s inside you.

DOM!CHRIS who laughs at how pathetically quick you let go for him, despite him not giving you permission.

DOM!CHRIS who will chase his own high, rutting into so roughly and so quickly, and will laugh when he leaves you a crumpled mess on the bed, sobbing after being denied permission to cum for the fourth time because you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

DOM!CHRIS who is obnoxiously possessive in public, who will not hesitate to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you into a messy make-out as the guy who got the wrong impression and started flirting with you, slowly backs away with shame and embarrassment written on his face.

DOM!CHRIS who will force you to talk to him without attitude, and if you refuse, he will ignore you, even as you get yourself off on his thigh like a bitch in heat. and he’ll just laugh at how pathetic you look.

DOM!CHRIS who will mock you in the smoothest voice, faux sweetness dripping from his tongue like honey, completely fooling you into thinking he’s not mad until he’s gripping your hips tightly as you’re pressed against his body and he’s calling you a slut in the meanest voice imaginable.

DOM!CHRIS who will mock your whines and moans, telling you to shut the fuck up because you begged for the way he’s treating you.

DOM!CHRIS who doesn’t care what you wear, as long as you’re prepared for a long night.

DOM!CHRIS who will not hesitate to kick some guy’s ass for getting too close and then turn around and drag you to the nearest bathroom, bending you over the counter and reminding you that you are his fucktoy, not anyone else’s.

DOM!CHRIS who is public about your relationship and laughs so darkly when he asks “what would the world think if they knew what a fuckin’ whore you are f’me?”

DOM!CHRIS who always reminds you that he loves you, in the middle of fucking your brains out, even if he’s pissed at you because he knows how easily his words can break you and make you believe that he means what he says, and forget that his words are just vocal foreplay, that they’re just dirty talk because he knows it gets you going.

DOM!CHRIS who mixes slight praise with his degradation, telling you that your body is made for him and takes him so well, just like the pathetic fucktoy you are.

DOM!CHRIS who uses your weak points against you in public, knowing exactly where to touch you to have you squirming in your seat.

DOM!CHRIS who enjoys setting you up, doing and saying things to have you begging for him, and then acting out when he denies it, which leads to him getting angry because you can’t go five minutes without his touch and attention.

DOM!CHRIS who, at the end of the day, holds you close and reminds you that despite the way he shows and holds control over your body during sex, you are your own person and that you can always say no if you need to. who reminds you that you did so good, that you are so loved by him because he knows that constant rough sex and rough dirty talk can really take a toll on you and he never wants you to believe that he sees you the way he does when he’s angry with you in bed.

DOM!CHRIS who makes sure your emotional and romantic relationship is as healthy as possible, because he knows how toxic your sexual relationship can get, and he wants to keep a healthy relationship outside of the bedroom so there’s never a lack of trust or safety in the bedroom.

taglist: @33sturniolo @worldlxvlys @sturnioloshacker @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @meanttomeet @breeloveschris @thugpugs4lrh @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @vanteguccir @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby @whatrulookingat11 @kqyslyho3 @hysteria-things [TAGLIST IS FULL!]

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader

405 notes · View notes

imaginesmai · 3 months

Text

Feelings I cannot express - Eris Vanserra

Wow, look at that! Me, avoiding responsabilities and writing another Eris fic for which I have no time! What a surprise! Enjoy this LONG LONG PIECE that has consumed my time lately. Shout-out to @glitterypirateduck who is too in her Eris' era.

Plot: Five times Eris didn’t know how to express his feelings, and one time he did

Warnings: descriptions of violence and blood. Mean Eris when he doesn't know how to express his feelings. Troubled, traumatized boi.

His steps were wobbly, and he had already stopped three times to catch his breath. Each time, the ground seemed closer, more tempting. Eris always cared about the impression people had of him, and in his court, he polished it like nowhere.

The strong, cruel prince that matched his father’s temper. Someone who they wouldn’t mess with, someone who would reign one day when Beron was gone. Only the silent corridors were the witness of that other part of him, the real one, that was leaving bloodied prints on the walls.

Beron had raised his hand against his mother, like many other times. He had crossed her beautiful and soft face with a hard slap, just because she dared to share her opinion on a political matter. And Eris had unconsciously let his power flare. Just an ember, a spark in his middle finger.

His father had seen, and had deemed right to remind him where was his position in his court. Lashes had ripped his back into shreds, blood trailing down his arms and legs. He had finished two hours before dawn, but Eris hadn’t been able to move until the night was already started. That way, he made sure no one saw his vulnerable form.

Eris closed the doors of his room as soon as he was inside, and stumbled into his bed. Falling face first, he closed his eyes and willed his conscious to leave him. No one heard his prayers, and he was still wide awake when his door opened again.

He would have been startled, alert or even afraid, but your scent sneaked in before you entered. Eris groaned in acknowledgement, and he knew any warnings or threats were useless against you. You already knew the dangers of your actions, the consequences of being involved with him. And yet, you were always there.

“Can you take off your clothes?” you broke the sinister silence of the room with quiet steps. “I’ll run you a bath”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Asleep” you answered, brushing your soft knuckles against his locks. “Don’t worry about it”

Flynn, the younger Vanserra brother, had tight sleep schedules, so part of his worry faded away. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone found his younger brother’s betrothed in a light sleeping gown.

Eris heard you filling the bath with water, and tried not to let the guilt worry. The first time you had helped him, he had threatened to burn you alive, and gone as far as give you a nasty burn scar on your left forearm. You hadn’t left, and he hadn’t thanked you. While you two ignored each other in the court ministrations, it was your secret routine – you, a stranger promised to a monster, helping him among his dearest family and friends.

Not once in his life he had let someone so close to his torment, to his vulnerability – to his body. People assumed he had tons of lovers, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone touching him. With you, he had discovered in the last years, it was different.

Your hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality, and he finally looked at you. There were dark bags under your eyes, a determinated look fixed on him.

“It’s ready” you tilted your head slightly. “Can you get up on your own?”

“Of course. Get away” he scoffed, but didn’t argue when you stabilized him by his elbow when he rose. “I don’t need your help. You’re more a liability than a support”

“I know you can do it, Eris” you didn’t even blink at his mean words, nor reacted when he tried to push you away. “Maybe we should take your tunic off before – “

“Get off me!”

Eris didn’t measure his strength when he pushed you off, just desperate to shake the feeling of kind hands that he didn’t deserve. That would never be his.

You stumbled back and got your feet tangled between the carpet, which caused you to fall on your butt. He physically flinched when your hands broke your fall, when he saw you suck a breath in pain. But he wouldn’t apologize, he never did. If being the worst person alive meant you would live, if hurting you meant no one would do it, then he could carry the guilt and self-hate just fine.

From the ground, he felt your eyes on him as he striped his clothes. They fell to the ground, his tunic nothing but ripped shreds of cloth. His vest wasn’t much better, or his shirt. Only his pants had been saved from the bloodbath. Eris made a point by not looking at you while he undressed, leaving his briefs on.

He didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that the way your body tensed from the corner of his eye wasn’t an exaggeration. Every fiber of his body screamed at him when he walked towards the bathroom, when he heard you get up in a rush and follow him.

The fact that you didn’t demand an apology or got angry at him rubbed all the wrong spots.

“Let me warm the water”

“I can do it myself, little fox”

Still, your hand sneaked and you dipped it into the water, and within seconds steam started to fill the bathroom. Eris stared at that particular spot between your shoulder and neck, where he wished he could thank you with a soft kiss. Wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into the bath with him. Be the person you would lay with that night.

“Do you want me to help you in?”

“What I want you to do is to leave” he answered as the temperature of the room rose. “I want you to lay with your future husband and forget about me”

“I can’t do that, Eris” you casted him a glance. “I can help you in though”

His anger rose back up and he didn’t say anything when you straightened back up. Your fire magic was only a spark of his own, only useful for warming water or lighting a chimney. That you had to use yours because he was too spent was a disgrace upon himself.

Eris made a point to leave his back to you inside the tub, letting the warm water wash the blood away. He pushed his head between his arms and ignored your presence. Ignored your warm hands as they brushed the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected. Ignored your quiet movements as you left healing and numbing creams on the counter. Tried to ignore you when you massaged his shoulders and scalp, cleaning his hair like his mother used to do.

Eventually, you decided to leave him alone in his rooms. After helping him get up from the bathtub and into the bed. Tucking him in like a stubborn child, turning off the candles. Only when your hand brushed his hair one last time, he noticed the new addition to your beautiful wrist.

He gripped it before you could hide it, and for the first time in the whole night, you flinched. Not because his touch was rough, since he held it like expensive glass. Not because you were afraid, because with him, you never were.

“This is new” he whispered in the dark room, staring at the bruises along your delicate skin. “What happened?”

“He just got a little handsy. Flynn…” you doubted before you sighed, sitting on his bed. “Your father has been pushing him more and more about the weeding. He left this morning with him to hunt in the forest, so I can only guess they talked about it. So he got drunk. And I was late for dinner, because he hadn’t informed me it would be early tonight”

“Anywhere else?” he asked, and eyed you with enough intensity to warn you against lying.

“I’m fine”

You had been raised for that, Eris guessed, and that was normal for you. Being sold to the best buyer for your hand, endure a shitty betrothed until you were to marry and he could ignore you properly. Eris didn’t dare to think about how things would be if your position allowed him to marry you. If his father saw you worthy of his first-born.

But you were stuck with Flynn Vanserra, a man uncapable of love and caring. A man who did worse things than a bruised wrist.

“Be careful” he allowed himself to say, just because it was dark, and you couldn’t see the real concern and fear of someone finding out about your behavior in his room. “Don’t let anyone see you leave my rooms. And don’t come back. I don’t need you”

“Good night, Eris” you rose from bed, and Eris missed the warmth of your wrist against his fingers. “Don’t forget the creams”

With silent steps, you left his room, and Eris spent the night awake wondering of you could see right past his lies, past his fake cruelty and indifference towards you. If you could see how much he cared about his brother’s betrothed.

It wasn’t too often that the palace opened its door for lesser fae. On special occasions, his father allowed them to attend to the main hall and see what they were missing because of their condition. Beron took out the elegant clothes, the expensive wine and bright plates. And then, he didn’t let them use any of that and had them watch from the corner the superiority of his family.

Eris didn’t particularly care about those events, but he had been forced to attend to that one – since it was his own birthday. He didn’t celebrate his birthday, he didn’t get presents. Not when years of monotony rolled by and nothing changed. His mother had been the only one wishing him happy birthday that morning, kissing the side of his head quickly and reminding him to be nice.

To stand by and endure his father’s show of power at his expense. All his brothers were there too, and not too far from Flynn, you too.

You were wearing an orange dress that emulated autumns leaves. Each time you moved, lights reflected yellow and brown sparks that had the lesser fae turning their heads around. Eris too couldn’t keep his eyes away from your form for too long, with the risk of being caught.

Flynn seemed to be least affected by your looks, or your presence. While you were required to stay by his side and be faithful, he dragged you through countless humiliation. Talking and flirting with other women when you were standing a few feet away, ignoring your attempts to start conversations, leaving you while you greeted a friend.

Eri’s nails were imprinted on his palms from how hard he closed his fists each time it happened. He had almost set fire to a curtain when he had been close enough to watch your crestfallen expression.

To avoid anyone noticing him staring at you like a hawk or turning his brother into ashes, he busied himself with pointless talks and stupid politics. He endured it for three long hours, and then he granted himself a rest excusing himself for the bathroom.

He knew you had been following him since he left the ballroom, but didn’t acknowledge you until you were far from the crowd. Eris walked through the hallways and across the backyard, and stopped only when he reached the stables. Then, he turned around and his heart skipped a beat at your sight.

Your beautiful hair had been let down, and you were wearing a crown of golden leaves. Everything in your attire claimed you were their possession, but you weren’t his to look at, to enjoy. So he raised a brow and waited for you to talk.

“You’re hard to catch” you started. “Someone might think you’re running away from me”

“Maybe I’m running away from your annoying presence”

You scoffed and he hated and loved that you didn’t seem affected by his words. There was no truth behind it, just the urge of hearing your voice in your reply.

“I want to wish you happy birthday” you confessed, and even your voice was sweeter that night. “Haven’t seen you in all day”

“I’ve been busy” he lied.

Shamefully, he had waited for your visit for hours. Last year you had been the first one to wish him happy birthday, and he had remembered for the whole year the feeling of your lips against his cheek. It had been a friendly kiss, although it had been the only time he had seen you blush. And during the hard days, he held onto that memory like a lifesaver.

You hummed and tucked your hands in front of you. Eris tried not to notice the silver ring that claimed you as his brother’s possession, the distinction from other women. You never wore it, but you had to in events like that one.

In the silence that followed his lie, Eris’ whole body relaxed. His shoulders dropped, his fist untightened and his jaw unclenched. His nostrils flared slightly as he took in your scent, and finally, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Happy birthday, Eris” you finally said, and smiled brightly at him. “Do you want to open your present?”

“Present?” he blinked surprised, the question catching him off guard. “You got me a present?”

“Birthdays are supposed to be filled with presents. Extravagant parties are good too, but I think everyone should get a present” you explained. “I tried to keep yours in an envelope, but someone found it before you. And I couldn’t help it. Do you want to see it?”

Eris nodded dumbly. You could offer him a crumb of your lunch and he would gladly treasure it for the rest of his life. Just like he was doing with all your moments together, before you were cruelly snagged into his brother’s arms eventually.

He followed you through the stables, wondering what you could give him. He didn’t remember the last time someone got him a present, a pleasant one. Anything you could give him would be perfect, so he wasn’t worried about liking it or not. He was worried about cracking down and smudging that beautiful lipstick with his own lips.

Like second nature, you walked him towards the pit where he kept his hounds locked. They slept together and were Eris pride and joy, the first and only gift he got from his father. As you unlocked the door, Eris stuffed his hands in his pocket awkwardly. Then, he looked inside.

And broke into a loud, deep chuckle that rattled his bones.

Eris laughed and laughed until he took his hands out of his pockets and had to press them into his stomach, bending over. When he opened his eyes and tried to regain his posture, he lost it over and over again.

“I take it you like it” you chuckled with him.

He missed the way your eyes shone at his laugh, the way you bounced off your feet at his happiness. It had been the only real smile on your lips that night, and it rivaled any of the elegant lamps in the ballroom.

His hounds, the terrifying big dogs that haunted prisoners when they got out of his dungeons and tracked down traitors, had each one fox knitted hats. Who had ripped fae apart with their sharp teeth and devoured limbs like butter. They all stared at you with oblivious calm and a fox hat.

“They look – they look so ridiculous” Eris managed to say between laughs, and pointed at Maximus, who had its head titled and one of the ears had bent down. “And so happy! How did you put them on? This is the best present I could ask for”

“Oh, they didn’t put much of a fight when I sneaked some treats” you shrugged, and Eris broke into another laugh. “Besides, they like me too much not to let me do it”

“You’re a devious creature, little fox” he scoffed, and finally looked at you. “You are – “

Whatever he was about to say died when he caught the glimpse of the moon light hitting your ring. The ring that reminded him that you may have given him a birthday present, but everything else belonged to Flynn. He caught the words he was about to say and stuffed them down his chest. He forced himself to look away from your expectant expression, and swallow the guilt.

You would never be happy with him, but neither would you be with Flynn. Your fate in that court was sealed, yet you would keep your life with the youngest Vanserra.

“Thank you for the present, Y/N” he managed to say, not daring to look back at his hounds.

“You’re welcome, Eris” you copied his formal, clipped tone in a mocking way, noticing the change of the atmosphere but not caring about it. “Maybe next time I could knit you one for yourself”

“I’m afraid I look nothing like a fox. More like a snake perhaps”

“And I’m afraid you’re too hard on yourself, but we aren’t considering our deliriums”

Eris opened his mouth to argue, but he felt them coming before you did. A couple, probably drunk and lesser fae, had snuck into the gardens. And they probably wouldn’t recognize you, wouldn’t report to his father about your reunion. But Eris couldn’t risk your safety, not when you were the only thing that made him be glad of being alive for another year.

He caught your arm in a tight grip and your eyes widened before listening to their steps. You didn’t have to look to know the couple was staring. In your eyes, Eris could see his own fear of having those short and meaningless meetings cut short because of a snitch. He hated that you weren’t afraid of his tight grip or the fire in his eyes, but because of the retaliations if you were discovered.

One of his hounds poked a lazy head to see what the silence was about, but saw no threat and turned away. And to ensure it wouldn’t turn into a threat, Eris put on his heir-mask, the hatred and cruel prince everyone expected him to be, and snarled with fire under his tongue the venom he knew you didn’t believe.

“And if I ever see you snooping again, I’ll have your head on a pike in your weeding chambers. Tell my dear brother to shorten the leash of his belongings” he pressed on. He caught on the couple’s sniff of fear and respect, but also your own hurt. Hurt at the words he was blading for your protection, he told himself, that were necessary. “Leave before I change my mind”

With a final hard push, he threw you a few feet away from him. You looked down and scrambled away from him, and the couple left too. Eris was left alone with his foxed-hounds, and the horrid realization that hurting you was the only way of keeping you safe.

Eris paced the length of your room for what felt like forever. He had already noticed every detail you kept in your room that made it so you, had fought with the inadequate feeling of invading your personal space. He had had time enough to consider if he was going insane and paranoid, but it was late and you weren’t there.

You always retreated to your rooms early in the night. Sometimes, he knew because he accompanied you when his brother was too drunk to remember your presence. Other times, he knew because you sneaked into his dorms right before night set. You were supposed to be there with him, teasing him for not being able to look away from the lingerie that lay forgotten in your armchair.

But you weren’t, and Eris was pacing.

That morning, as you all had lunch as a family, his mother had asked an inadequate but innocent answer. It was only logical that after almost five years of courting you started talking about the actual weeding, but you weren’t. Because his brother was too much of a dick to entertain it until he had enjoyed his youth to the fullest, and because you sneaked glances at him when no one was looking.

You had given her a simple answer – love matters took time, and better be safe than sorry. While everyone agreed quietly, Eris had noticed the way Flynn’s face darkened. As if the idea of you answering a question directed to both of you was inadequate.

Eris had left the dining room with an uneasy feeling, and had kept it in his stomach all day. When you hadn’t appeared during dinner time nor had his brother, he had decided to search for you.

You weren’t in the stables, where you spent most of your time between horses and his hounds. You weren’t in the kitchen, where you snuck off when Flynn got too much to handle. And you weren’t anywhere he looked, so he had decided to let the worry get the best out of him and wait for you in your rooms.

As if the thought of you had summoned you, the doors opened and Eris turned around in a frenzy.

“Thank the cauldron” he scoffed, already replacing the worry with anger. “Where the fuck have you been all day? Do I really have to wait here if I want to…”

“I’m sorry” you apologized, your voice void of any fire or charm.

He tried to make himself argue with you further, to explain his presence in your room with a stupid excuse and not let you know he had been worried. There was no blood or visible wounds on you, not new bruises or burns he can explain his sudden lack of words with.

But he could see something there, that made his blood boil and his heart beat furiously against his chest. You walked past him in silence and removed your heels next to your wardrobe. Without saying anything or acknowledging his presence, you peeled the eiderdown off and climbed inside the bed.

Only then he watched your shoulders tight as you tried to keep the cries to yourself. Eris walked on autopilot to the edge of your bed, and watched in silent horror as tears fell down your face. You were squeezing your eyes shut, probably wanting to be left alone, but he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. Just like you had done so many times.

It was so different from what he knew, what you did with him, that he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he caressed your shoulder and you whined, your body turning around so you could face him.

“What happened?” he asked, his hand trembling with the effort of staying on your shoulder and not brushing the tears away.

“He locked me in a basement, because he said he was tired of seeing me everywhere and hearing me all the time” you admitted, curling your body around his. “There was no light. And I was fine, but he didn’t come back and I called. And no one answered and – “

Your explanation died with the first sob, and many followed. Eris knew what basement you were talking about. His father had locked him and his brothers many times in the past. Big enough to allow a standing person, but not to let them sit. Tight enough so a part of your body was always touching the wall, and dark enough to rob your breath.

Eris willed the words stuck on his throat to leave him. He wanted to lay down beside you and comfort you like he should. He wanted to break every last of his brother’s bones, and then some more.

“I was so scared” you admitted quietly, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “I thought – I thought I’d been forgotten”

“How did you get out?”

“Beron heard me”

He didn’t need to ask for further details, just tried to keep eye contact as your beautiful eyes were constantly drowning in tears and sorrow. His father was as cruel as Flynn, but until you were officially married, he still had to ensure your safety for your family’s sake.

You cried against his side and eventually your body gravitated to his lap. His free hand carefully brushed yours, and you held it so tight and hard that Eris choked his own cry. How many times he had felt alone in his own home? Forgotten in that same basement while Beron went hunting, or partying?

The thought of you locked in those four walls turned his stomach up. You, with your easy smile and your kind words. Full of kindness and love that no one in that court deserved, certainly not him.

Still, Eris held his ground sitting on your bed. He lighted some candles and sealed the room with a glamour against sound and strangers. The rational part of his brain told him to leave before someone came looking for him, the irrational part to do worse things. But he stayed on your bed, stroking his thumb across the back of your hand and brushing his fingers against the nape of your neck.

As you cried, Eris begged himself to do something with the words that resonated in his heart.

“You’re not forgotten, I could never forget you. I won’t”

“He could try and hide you in the last corner of the universe and I would still crawl my way to you, my little fox”

His mouth was kept shut and his fingers continued his ministration, until your breath slowed and your sobs disappeared. Then, when you were about to fall asleep with his hand in yours, you opened your eyes one last time and gave him a small smile. Maybe he hadn’t said anything, but he was starting to suspect you could read his mind and heart.

“I’m glad you came for me” you confessed quietly. “Thank you”

He should have said that he didn’t accept your gratefulness, that he wasn’t worthy of them. Instead, he smiled back and stared at you while you fell asleep. With his heart roaring just a big wilder.

His court was under attack.

Eris had come to that realization a month ago, when a missive from Hybern had reached their borders with a threat of dead and destruction. In that moment, he had thought it had been a minor attack. A political attack, a threat with little importance in a world where everybody hated his court.

But then, his father had dismissed the king demands and patrols started to go missing. Parts of those patrols came back, traumatized soldiers that died in a few days but that had enough time to scream horrors. More soldiers were sent into the forest, and more soldiers died.

For a month, Hybern had debilitated them in their own home until most of the army was unavailable. And now, his home was under attack.

The top part of the palace was on fire, people ran desperately through the corridors and soldiers from both sides fought in the backyard. Eris was sure Beron would be able to win that battle, maybe the war. Yet what worried him was that Beron didn’t particularly care about causalities, and there were many that had Eris’ heart in a knot.

He had managed to take his mother to safety, to a hidden room where women and children waited. He expected to see you there too, but instead, had found a hiding Flynn that didn’t answer his questions.

Eris had left his brother in the middle of a hallway with a shutten eye and two broken legs that wouldn’t let him get away from the soldiers. He hoped he would get killed so Eris wouldn’t be the one to carry the task.

As he ran through the castle against the waves of running people, the fire on his veins roared louder. What would he do, if he came upon the worst scenario? Would he crash his home down? It had been eight months since his birthday, and he had come to the realization he feared the most. That those times he seemed to spot you among a crowd, when his soul sang for you, where for a reason.

He hadn’t found the courage to tell you yet about the golden string he tugged at sometimes, hoping you would turn around and confirm his suspicions.

If he lost his mate today because of his brother’s cowardice, because of a war his father had started out of greed, Eris wasn’t sure the world would be a safe place for anyone anymore.

Asking the running members of his court would be useless, as it would be worrying about them seeing his panic-stricken expression. Eris focused on running and following his instinct, until it led him to the stables. The place where you had shared so many memories that was now a bloodbath.

Soldiers were lying on the ground, dead and unconscious, some of them begging for his help as he stepped over their bodies. The heart of the battle was close enough he could hear and smell death looming, but all of that died down when he finally saw you.

“Eris!” you cried out his name, and what was left of his heart clenched at the broken sound. “Eris I –“

Your cries were muffled by a rough hand over your mouth, of a soldier that hadn’t seen him yet. You were being dragged towards a carriage, your limbs flying around as you tried to get free from the enemies’ grip. Eris would have time to thank fate for allowing him to reach you on time, before you were taken away from him permanently.

Fire licked the carriage’s front, not letting their occupancies leave untouched. It consumed the vehicle in a matter of seconds, burning so powerful and tight that Eris felt light headed for a second. His power felt like a bottomless pit where he could dive without consequences, so he did just that.

Unleashing his short swords, he used both hands to clean his path towards you. The soldiers realized shortly after that their scape root was compromised, but too late that who had compromised it was the crown’s heir.

They didn’t stand a chance against his rage, his power. They fell to the ground like flies while all Eris saw was red. Red seeping through your wounds into the ground, staining your dress. Red pooling the earth beneath his feet as every last soldier fell to their death. Red of his power, that consumed every threat against his mate.

Once he was done, he crashed to his knees in front of you, and the fire died all together when your arms locked around his neck. He didn’t contemplate what it would look like when he pushed you farther into his embrace, listening to your heartbeat like a lullaby.

“You shouldn’t be outside” Eris whispered against your hair, the remains of his anger seeping through them. “If you were smart, you would have stayed inside. Dumb woman. What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to find you”

Your admission didn’t catch him off guard. You sounded so sincere, so relieved, that he only got angrier. Why was fate so cruel to bond him with such a kind soul? Of course, of every reason you could have gone outside, you would have chosen him.

“I didn’t know if you were okay” you continued, lifting your face from his chest to look at him. “What if you had been hurt?”

“And what would you do, hm?” Eris almost cut you off, suddenly repulsed by your touch.

That he had let you get so close to put yourself in danger was a mistake. It had been a mistake the first time he looked at you long enough to discover how bright your smile was. A mistake each time he had allowed you in his room to tend his wounds, every conversation you two had in secret.

There was no answer to his questions, and you knew it. Eris got up and didn’t offer you a hand, instead turning his face away from you. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to ignore the endless thoughts about what could have happen. The things he should have done better, because none of that mattered now.

Eris tried to ignore you when you finally got up and grabbed his hand. Your hand caressed his fingers, his hands, his arms. You caressed his skin as if he hadn’t just slaughtered ten strong, healthy soldiers with families.

“I somehow do irrational things when it comes to you” you spoke quietly, wrapping your hands around his elbow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in trouble. But the thought of you being hurt… I’m sorry”

“Let’s get you to safety” he grumbled, not acknowledging your apology.

He imagined what it would feel like to have you hanging from his arm in different circumstances, maybe in another world. Briefly, he indulged himself and slowed his steps so he could soak into it. There were bodies and blood, sounds of battle and death cries, but none of them seemed to matter as you walked down the hallways to the hidden room.

The battle was already dying down, but it wouldn’t be safe until nighttime. Eris would make sure every last enemy was death before letting you set a foot outside the safe room. He vowed himself to distance himself enough to never repeat that moment, and to protect you with whatever it took him. Indifference, cruelty. Whatever put you to safety.

What he couldn’t control was a last moment of vulnerability. He stopped right before the discrete doors where his mother and the rest of women and children waited. Turning to face you, his heart got the best of him and raised his arm without his consent.

“Be safe” you begged him. “Please. I don’t want to lose you”

“I will, little fox”

Eris tucked a strand of your hair, sticky with blood behind your ear. He watched like a hawk the cherry blush that painted your cheeks, the contained smile that you hid horribly. Instead of retreating, he let curious fingers explore the curve of your cheekbone. Your jawline, your chin. The curve of your nose and your lips.

His traitor fingers stopped at your bottom lip, tugging it down. It should have bothered him that those lips were meant for his brother, that they had already tasted him when his brother had gotten too handsy. But it didn’t, because they looked so kissable that he thought he had imagined it when you leaned forward.

When your eyes fluttered closed and his body gravitated too, he thought he imagined. The distance became shorter and everything became white noise. Eris had dreamed so long about it that he thought he was dreaming.

But not even his dreams were so livid, so real. He blinked one last time before crashing into your lips with a straining force. You tasted like blood from your open lip, and like clouds and sky and perfection. There were teeth and tongue and he couldn’t control himself more than the kiss.

Shockingly, he was the one pushed against the opposite door, your much smaller body trapping him as you grabbed him by the shoulders. He stole every breath and whine that left your mouth with kissing. For those few seconds, he let himself explore each inch of your mouth like it was the last minute of his life.

It might had been, if someone saw you with him and told Beron. His father thought had him pushing you away, so hard you stumbled down.

“Get inside” Eris demanded you, gripping your elbow harshly. You blinked with those swollen lips and rosy cheeks, and he clenched his jaw.

“Eris…”

“Don’t come out, not until I come back. Be fucking smart for once in your life” he opened the door and dozens of women stared at you two.

Something in his chest stilled when your eyes widened and that bond became alive. When he was certain that you felt the same tug he had been feeling for a long time, that he had lost sleep over. It dawned to him that nothing would be the same after that day, whether the attack finished or not. Whether his father found out or those women kept silent.

So, for the first time in his life, Eris let himself accept those hidden feelings and kissed you one last time. Slow, deep, in front of his mother who covered her mouth with a surprised gasp. He dragged his lips between yours, only for a second.

When he tore away, Eris was sure he would die happy if that face was the last thing he saw.

“Don’t leave the room until I come back, my little fox. Only me”

Eris didn’t let you answer. He turned around and closed the doors behind him, running down the hallways. Looking for the enemy, for his brother whose betrothed had just kissed, for his father who could kill you both. And away from where his heart was safe with you.

Not even a week of mourning was stablished for the deaths at the Hybern attack. Not even a week for the thousands of soldiers who had died defending his home.

Eris had made sure that every family got their loved ones’ bodies back, and that there was enough wood to light up fires for them. He mourned more for them than for his own family, who had suffered an immense hit.

Flynn Vanserra had been found ravished in a forgotten hallway, his body mangled beyond recognition. People whispered that he had found an end according to his life – cruel, mean, without mercy. Eris stared at his brother’s corpse and curled his lip, because before his death, not a scar marked his body. While he had usen yours like a blank canvas.

Beron Vanserra had died too, and that had rattled Eris’ world.

His father had been the main objective, and after he had fallen from the upper tower, the enemy had retreated. Beron was dead before he hit the ground, courtesy of a dozen poisoned arrows on his chest. Eris had watched his body burn in silence contemplation, thinking about how many times his father had raised his fire against him.

Now, it was Eris who light up his father’s tomb fire.

Days brushed quickly but there was one thing that had him grounded – you. Eris Vanserra was officially a High Lord, so no one argued when you appeared by his arm on Beron’s funeral. When you moved your things to the room besides him.

His people whispered about the caring brother who had taken upon the charge of his betrothed so she wouldn’t be discarded. And about the cruel king who had killed his own brother to wed a nameless girl. Eris didn’t acknowledge any of those comments.

He just kept you close as loyalties were stablished, letting everyone know that you were off limits. For touching, for hurting, for insulting. One noble was brave enough to question your place in the palace with Flynn death, and one noble lost his tongue the next morning.

As everything settled down, Eris found himself taking walks with you through the forest, something his brother had never bothered to do. You hung from his arm gracefully, new and expensive dresses on your wardrobe, and a radiant smile on your face.

“Will you teach me how to ride?” you asked him one sunny afternoon. “So I can ride hunting with you”

“I will get you your own horse if that’s what my mate wants” he let the title sweeten his mouth, warm his heart. “I will get you whatever your heart desire, my little fox”

“Maybe I’ll turn into a spoiled princess then. And you will find your ruin at my expensive demands” you chuckled, shifting closer to him.

You could ask him for a court and he would fight to death with anyone to grant you your own court. You could ask him for his court and he would get on his knees and offer it to you without another word. Those words were meaningless, because you rarely asked him for anything. Even when you had changed rooms, you had been happy with just a bed and a blanket.

“I’m happy with being here, close to you. I don’t need anything else”

The more time he spent with you, the more he marveled at your selflessness. You had been helping those with injuries from the fight, talking with the families who were grieving. By nighttime, you returned to your chambers where Eris was waiting for you, having abandoned his own for yours. You two laid in bed looking at each other until you fell asleep.

Then, Eris spent hours staring at you, letting his heart soak into the comfort.

“You are quiet today” you commented, breaking him from his thoughts. “Court problems?”

Eris always had court problems. The change was coming slowly but surely, and his father’s loyal friends weren’t happy with that. But it wasn’t their enmity that had him deep in thought. The last rays of sun warmed your face as he looked at you with a small smile.

Talking about his feelings was his weakness. He had been mean, cruel and downright villainous to you for years because he couldn’t open his heart to you. He couldn’t endure the thought of you hurting because of his stupid feelings.

But he wanted things to change. He wanted you to be happy and safe, and if he had to share his thoughts and swallow his insecurities, he would.

“I was wondering” he admitted eventually, a little unsure. “We are mate. But… do you think, we would have found each other? If we weren’t?”

You looked surprised at his questions. You hadn’t talked about the bond, just accepted it. When Eris had found you after the battle, you had hugged him tight and kissed him once more. You hadn’t talked about it, and yet, you both were comfortable with it.

After the initial surprise, you gifted him a soft smile, and your eyes crinkled against the sun.

“I would have found you either way, Eris. You had me since I set a foot in this court” you answered him. “I used to worry that there was something wrong with me, because I couldn’t feel anything for Flynn. Not love, not hate. Nothing. Whatever he did was fine because it was the price I paid to stay close to you. And it was worthy”

“Don’t say that, Y/N”

“I can’t, that’s what I feel. And I’m not afraid to tell you that I’ve loved you for a long time, my darling. Long before I knew we were mates and through all we’ve been through. I’m sure I would have loved you even if we weren’t mates”

Eris wondered if he would ever be able to speak so freely about his thoughts. He couldn’t still voice out what he felt for you. How he would turn the world around if you asked him to, how your love was enough to keep him alive forever. For now, though, Eris smiled and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your nose, earning a soft giggle.

He would tell you all of that someday, show you his feelings when his words were stuck. Eris Vanserra owned you that much.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

#eris vanserra x reader #imaginemai #imaginesmai #angst #one shot #imagine #x reader #fic #imagine mai #imagines mai #acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris #eris vansera #eris vanssera #eris imagine #eris vanserra imagine

583 notes · View notes

kat-luv-pt2 · 4 months

Note

Hear me out actress!reader where y/n and lando meet at a club or bar and have a one night stand. The next morning they both realize who the other one is (their celebrity crush) when paparazzi photos of them leaving together the night before are leaked and dating rumors rise.

What happens in Vegas

pairing: lando norris x fem!actress!reader

plot: just about what it says in the request

warnings: implied smut, alcohol overconsumption, gambling

notes: took me some time to get to this because i was battling the physics demons, no like detailed smut in this piece but maybe in the future i'll be comfortable to write it 👍👍👍

Although being quite famous for your many successful acting roles, shockingly enough, you'd never been to Las Vegas. New York and Los Angeles was ticked off for cities you had been in, but Vegas was still one to visit, so you jumped at the opportunity to go to the Las Vegas grand prix when you received the invite. Having arrived a few days early with your best friend, what better way was there to kill time than seeing the local sights, and what would a trip to Vegas be without going to a casino? Nothing. That's how you two ended up gambling away money at slot machines on a random evening from your trip, you adorned in sunglasses and a hat (which seemingly got lost along the way) to not get recognised, even though it turned out to not be of much point considering the obnoxiously loud music and the ambient lighting not really allowing people to think nor see each other properly, and with the amount of alcohol in the area, even if someone did recognize you, they'd probably forget by the time they were outside.

After wasting a few hundreds on the machines and alcohol, a certain burst of confidence gave you the idea to leave your friend at the slot machine and instead move to the games of poker nearby. So with a few grand and having seen your father play poker a few times when you were young and getting taught like once, you joined when a new game began, pushing some of your money towards the middle, receiving a few smirks from the players around the table. As the cards began to be dealt, a voice beside you sat down, "count me in as well" you turned your head to look at the curly-haired guy next to you pushing a large amount of money to the middle as the others whistled, impressed but one of them spoke up, "you young ones are good to play with, always bring a lot and leave with nothing" to which he was met with laughter from around the table. The curly-haired guy spoke up in a British accent "we'll see about that," giving you a quick wink and getting laughed at by the others.

The game had definitely gone better than expected, with the small heap of tokens in front of you but the others were definitely doing better and the money at stake had probably more than doubled by now, along with the amount of whiskey in everyone's body. The only person who was doing worse than you was the Brit next to you, who's face you just couldn't quite see because of the dim lighting and alcohol intoxication. Just as a quick break had started for the sake of getting more alcohol, an arm snaked round your shoulders, pulling you closer, "Look I'm doing shit, you're not far from that, and that pile there," he pointed to the cash, "is mostly our money, and I kind of want it. We have no chance against that lot alone, but work with me and we could get some money from that, split it 50/50, what'd you say girlie?" His warm breath whispered in your ear as you looked at your cards, the money, the older guys across the table and then back at the guy offering, downing the rest of the whiskey in your glass, you replied "count me in."

The game had gone much better after the break and it was just you and one other guy left, after Lando had masterfully helped you gain the bigger token heap (along with the better cards) as he rested his head on your shoulder, staring at your cards, you wondered about your next move, seeing no other option, you spoke "all in" you moved your tokens to the center, Lando's head springing up from your shoulder and hissing in your ear, "what the fuck are you doing?" But not being able to wipe the drunken smirk off your face as the your opponent also put also his tokens at stake and set his cards down, "flush" you were met with a smirk as you pretended to be shocked, convincing him you had no better cards. The tokens were slowly moved away from you and Lando, as Lando's jaw hardened and you could feel his eyes drilling into the side of your face, awaiting an explanation from you, but you paid no attention, "uhh put those down," you set your cards down "full house" you stood up swiftly moving the tokens to your side, Lando grabbing your face and kissing your cheek multiple times "that's my girl!" He chanted as the man who had just seen his win get taken away, slammed his hands on the table, "How?! HOW?!" Lando rubbed your arm, while you expertly counted the money, he took a swig of whiskey and replied, "you just gotta know how to play" before moving his head to kiss your neck as your ruffled his hair. The men angrily stood up (not without muttering some obscenities) and left.

Countless more games were played, with countless wins by you and Lando, all assisted by countless amounts of whiskey. Throughout the night, you had moved from the chair next to him to his lap and his hand from your shoulder to your waist, kisses growing more longing and passionate. By the time the majority began to leave, you had racked up a fair amount of money together and Lando had offered to help you take your half of the win back to your hotel room after finding out you were both staying at the Hilton hotel. Somehow you ended up pressed against the wall in Lando's hotel room, you two hungrily undressing each other as your lips were locked in with the other's, soon enough ending up on his bed, the rest of the night being a pleasurable blur.

The following morning when you lifted your head you were struck back by what seemed like humanity's worst ever hangover, and after opting for letting yourself recover from the movement of your head, you finally managed to open your eyes, turning to grab your phone to see the time but it wasn't your stuff on the bedside table, nor was it your room, you turned to your other side, seeing the beautiful brunette sleeping peacefully beside you as the events of the previous night returned to you. "Shit shit shit shit." You panicked, grabbing the covers to use to preserve some of your modesty at least as you grabbed your discarded pieces of clothing while on the way to the bathroom, fighting the dizziness. "Hey, it's a bit cold here, can I get my covers back" a familiar voice spoke, as you saw the Brit prop himself up on his elbows, looking at you, "I've already seen all that could've been seen, no need to get shy" you stood by the bathroom door. "Close your eyes" Lando closed his eyes, as you threw the cover at him before disappearing into the bathroom. He got dressed while you were in there, picking up one of your bracelets and waiting for you by the door. You stepped out and bumped into him straight away. "What are you doing here?" Lando handed you your bracelet as you put it back onto your wrist and checked the rest of your jewelry whilst Lando watched you, "it's my bathroom, why would I not be there?" You struggled with putting your heels back on, "there's no one around at this time, just leg it to your room if you're so concerned." Lando said and handed you your phone from a nearby table and you quickly went to the door, "you don't want your money?" He gestures to the stack that you had won and you quickly went to grab it from near where he stood, "you here for much longer?" He questioned, moving your hair from one shoulder to the other, "few more days, why?" You questioned as you grabbed the final bills and went to the door, "maybe I'll see you around." Lando called after you, "maybe you will" you muttered in reply before leaving and making it back to your room in record time for an extremely hungover person, instantly collapsing onto your bed, heels still on, money next to you, scavenging some energy to send a text to your best friend to get you some headache relief before passing out. You were awoken a few hours later by your door opening and being slammed shut as you stuck a hand out for hopefully the pills bit instead you were flipped onto your back abruptly by your friend as you groaned in pain, "get up animal" she said angrily, a lot more angrily than usual, "have you seen what the fuck you got yourself into?" You just complained in reply, "stop shouting, my head's gonna crack." She grabbed a bottle of water near your bed, tipping it onto your face, quickly knocking some sense into you. "What the fuck?" You quickly sat up and were met with a phone screen in your face as your vision adjusted to see what she was showing you "Lando Norris and y/n l/n seen leaving a casino in Las Vegas looking very close ahead of the Las Vegas grand prix" she read out the title as you stared at the image of you and Lando from last night in shock, "Lando Norris?" You asked your best friend, "yes, Lando Norris." She repeated. "I hooked up with Lando Norris?" She just shook her head in anger and sighed, "you really are an animal, you're telling me you hooked up with him as well, well done, you've really out done yourself with that one. Do you know how worried I was when you weren't here and you weren't answering? Your management is at my neck now because of you. YOUR management at MY neck." You just covered your eyes, "shit I'm so sorry." You said as you rubbed your face.

"Damn mate, how'd you manage to get with her?" Lando stopped washing his face as he looked at Max through the mirror, "with who?" Max looked at Lando confused, "with y/n" Lando turned around suddenly "l/n?" "Yeah y/n l/n" Max turned his phone to show Lando the article that you had seen a bit earlier. Lando's eyes widened "that was her? She was like a thousand times better in real life, and that's considering she's like a 11/10 on screen-" "Lando I don't want to know, but the media does, because they're going wild about it" Lando breathed out as he washed his face with cold water again, "pr's gonna be so pissed about this" he said quietly as Max let out a laugh, "that's your biggest concern? I'd be more worried about other things here" Lando stared at the mirror, thinking about the situation at hand.

What had you guys got yourself into?

#lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you

580 notes · View notes

jazzsonly · 7 months

Text

ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟꜱ.

pairing(s): tara carpenter x fem!reader

warning(s): tara has a hugeeeee crush, reader is a soccer player, set in scream 5 but in college and includes anika (deal with it,) not too good of writing(lowkey still have writers block,) reminds me of an alt version of goodnight n go.

summary: ❝ Give me a call if you ever get lonely, I'll be like one of your girls or your homies ❞

────────✯────────

it was hard to not notice you, to not know who you were on campus would be a crime considering; you were the girl’s soccer team star, always people cheering your name on game day, always interviewed for the school’s news channel. and not to mention you were really fucking smart, according to even wes himself you’d beat him on trivia night many of times.

you tutored chad for multiple of his courses, and you were also top of your english courses. to add to the fact you were stunningly gorgeous, there was just something of the glisten of your y/c/e eyes that caught so many people’s attention, not to mention your perfect shaped lips, and god, the body on you—how you managed to keep such good shape was a question that plagued many minds.

one of those minds being tara’s who had been undying, undeniably crushing you for months now. she never really payed much attention to you, nor did she pay attention to your sport until she spotted you while accompanying mindy at practice.

that’s when she really got a good look at you, immediately plaguing mindy with questions of what you liked, were you single, what other hobbies you had, and so on and so on.

though, according to mindy, even if you had the smarts to back you up and were totally kind, you were some cliché player girl who brought all you pawns to watch you practice in attempts to impress and to her dismay it actually worked. besides your looks, something about doing a few tricks with your foot and a ball claimed to be very impressive to girls.

it’s not like this fazed the younger carpenter, she merely just wanted to get to know or so she claimed.

so after countless times of begging, pleading, and telling mindy how great she was—tara finally got the girl to agree to get you over for a movie night.

you were a little taken back as mindy wasn’t one of the teammate you were super close with but nonetheless you agreed, seeing it rude to decline such invitation.

“how do i look?” tara asked for the millionth time while flattening her long sleeve blue cropped top.

“you look fine!” mindy, chad, and amber all said in unison, clearly annoyed with the girl.

“why are you so stressed out anyways? you’ve had plenty of flings over before.”

“because, amber,” tara takes a seat next to her best friend.

“this girl is hot—like, ugh, and not to mention she’s really fucking smart.”

“not THAT smart” wes grumbled in jealously, trying to downplay you.

“smarter than you.” amber uttered, the boy shooting her a glare.

“she’s also super athletic, one more thing you’re not, wes.” chad teases the boy, earning a (weak) punch in the arm.

tara clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, you were super athletic. she thought, reminiscing on your speed on the field. you could out run anyone on you team, you could do a lot of tricks—some karate shit where you jump and spin to kick the ball, such a show off…a hot show off.

“your girlfriend’s here.” tara perks up at amber’s teasing words.

she makes sure to sit up right with straight posture, wanting you to think of her as respectable. she also made sure to wear blue because she had read humans can easily trust a person in blue.

the girl watched as you flashed that bright white smile to her best friend, greeting her with a humble hug. a six pack in one of your hands, while a bottle of wine occupied the other.

god, look at you. how could someone look so good in slight baggy pants, how jeans look at good on waist. and how could a band tee fit someone so perfect, i mean just look at the way the rolled up sleeves showcased your arms—not to mention the way it came up on your belly showing just how toned you were.

as hard as tara tried to find a contrast to your perfectness, there was no use—even your fucking eyebrows looked great.

chad greeted you with an obnoxious ‘bro hug’ as he was already familiar with you, obviously from tutoring but also playing beer pong together a few times. while wes gave you a shy handshake, still bitter for his loss in trivia night. and obviously you easily greeted mindy seeing as she was your teammate and the one who invited you.

“you’re tara, right? you come to practice with mindy sometimes. i’m y/n.” finally you greeted her, holding your hand out to which she immediately took to shake.

“ye—yeah. nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too! i like your top.”

tara couldn’t help but smile to ear to ear, placing her hand against the blue fabric.

“i’m not sure what everyone liked so i got some buzz and wine.” you hold the items in your hand up.

“i’ll take that,” chad swipes the six pack from your hand.

“next time vodka will do.” amber took the bottle of grape wine.

“noted.” you chuckle, ironically taking the open seat next to tara.

you smelled so good. though, she could smell a light hint of weed off of you she could also smell sweetness.

“so, what are we watching tonight? i hear you’re really into horror movies, i’m a fan myself. i like the classics though, you know like uh, texas chainsaw and hellraiser.”

“i like elevated horror, like the babadook. that’s one of my favorites.”

“the babadook? never heard of it, you’ll have to show me it sometime.”

“never heard of it? we might just have to watch it tonight.”

“maybe so.” you flash your smile to the girl.

tara had no idea how she was being so calm right now, not with you so close—your arm right behind her, stretched out on the shoulder rest of the couch. or even just the simple fact you were talking horror to her, it was pillow-talk to the girl.

“hey minds, where’s anika tonight? i thought i’d finally get to meet the special lady.” you turn your attention to the girl occupied with her pouring herself a drink.

“she’s working a double tonight. next time though!”

now that you were really here, really in front of her and talking to her, she could intel that it was more than your looks that enflamed her. she noted that you were kind like mindy had ensured, by the way you made sure to include everyone let her know of this. you asked questions and found something in common with everyone to connect on a surface level.

she also grappled that you were actually smart, as you pulled random facts of knowledge out as you watched the movie. you went into detail on how the camera actually worked on the set of movies. even how the first camera was made in 1816 by some frenchmen.

and maybe you were a bit of a flirt, or player but that didn’t matter because at the end of the night when you asked tara for her number she had never done anything so fast with zero hesitation in her life.

“maybe you can show me some more horror movies…judging by your choice tonight i’d say you have good taste.”

“thank you…yeah, i’d love to show some others i enjoy.”

“mhm. when the others wake tell them i said goodnight and thank you for having me. also, please tell wes, again i’m sorry for beating him in trivia night.”

the girl snorts, nodding her head. “will do.”

“goodnight, tara.” once again you flash her a smile, a soft one.

━━━👩🏽‍💻part two seems far fetched but what do you guys think?

660 notes · View notes

builtbybrokenbells · 5 months

Text

Reaching New Heights

While under the impression that she has the house to herself, y/n enjoys some much needed alone time. Jake, planning on coming home to surprise her, walks himself straight into a whole new world.

Based off this request 🤍

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, virgin reader/losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), masturbating (f!receiving), simultaneous orgasm, multiple orgasm, very soft dom type beat, slight cockwarming if you squint, dry humping, touch of spit play, touch of voyeurism, praise, dirty talk, name calling, begging, very very sweet Jake ☹️, anxiety, fluff, swearing, talks of bad dating experiences, sorry if I miss any!

thank to the lovely anon who requested this! sorry for all of my other requests waiting, I promise I’m getting there! I had an idea like this already sitting in the drafts, so when I saw this request I had to write it! I hope this is what you were looking for, and I do apologize for this basically just being pwp. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍 (extremely lightly edited)

Intimacy, especially in the sexual context, had always been a touchy subject for you. It wasn’t because of any moral dilemmas, nor because of bad past experiences. You weren’t saving yourself for marriage, and you did not value your virginity as a ‘virtue’. You simply chose not to engage because you had never met anyone who you believed was right for you. You had plenty of dates and failed talking stages with men who only ever seemed interested in getting in your pants, but you had never met someone who seemed interested in you beyond anything sexual. You wanted to explore, to test your own limits and discover yourself with another person, but you could not bring yourself to undress for someone who only wanted (and planned) to leave after the fact.

You were comfortable with your own routine, and after a while it seemed more likely that you would remain a virgin until your hair turned gray and you were sat in a nursing home. At first, it bothered you, but then it became the most normal part of your life. You would rather keep to yourself than give away a part of you to someone who would not appreciate it. Most people weren’t interested in dating once you specified that you would not put out on the first date, and to you, that was okay; they weren’t worth your time or effort. Life was simple without anyone else empeding on your routine, anyway.

Then, one fateful day at a lovely, locally owned music store, you found yourself in front of someone who changed your world entirely, flipping it on its axis and throwing your whole life off course. You had (literally) run into him when you were least expecting it; he had stepped in front of you as you were bustling to the counter to pay for your handful of vinyl records. He apologized profusely, landing a gentle hand on your arm to make sure you were steady on your feet and he hadn’t hurt you. You were too enthralled in the beauty of his face to comprehend the words he was speaking, anyway. His long brown hair hung down to frame his face, and his warm, chocolate coloured eyes seemed to be staring straight into your soul. His smile was inviting, and his charm was unexplainable. He’d made you fall for him without even trying.

Once you managed to overcome your nervous staring, you forced a smile and assured him you were alright. He introduced himself, hesitant to believe you were telling the truth, and insisted on buying your records for you as an apology. After a drawn out back-and-forth argument, he eventually managed to convince you that it was the only apology he would allow for himself. Before you ventured to the counter, you took interest in the specific guitar he was fawning over on the wall. After explaining the details to you, you were left feeling disappointed at the prospect of having to part with him once you stepped out the door.

He ended up buying your records, and the guitar hanging on the wall, but he didn’t seem to want to let you leave without anything more, either.

So, instead of going your separate ways, you ended up at a diner just down the street, sharing lunch and getting to know each other as best as you could in the limited time you had. Laughs were plentiful and fulfillment was felt from all sides. Jake Kiszka was the man you had been waiting for, someone who saw you as a person, not just something to fuck. He was interested in every small detail, and he wanted to know everything he could about you. He was a bit shy, and very nervous, but he was sweet, kind, and he took your breath away. When you left the restaurant, you had a new found excitement for life, and a phone number in your contact list that would now be called on the daily.

At first, the relationship was built slowly and carefully. The two of you started as friends, texting each other regularly and trying your best to discover all of the intimate details about each other. Then, when you guys built up enough courage, you started going on small dates; movie nights, dinner dates, Sunday afternoon drives… you wanted to do anything and everything with him. He quickly became your closest friend and your most trusted confidant. You spent so much time together that it was almost strange not being in the same place. Of course, eventually, his time to tour came around, and it threw your life so violently off track that it was nearly hard to function.

When he first told you, you tried to force a smile and pretend all was well, but he knew you better than that. He could see the sadness in your eyes, and the apprehension. You were both so head over heels for each other that it made it hard to think of anything else. All of the late night phone calls and evenings spent immersed in each other had finally resulted in something much bigger. You were in love, and you were terrified for him to leave you. You feared that once he was gone, he would find someone more exciting, more interesting. Little did you know, he was afraid of all the same things.

So, as you sat in his living room while he packed up the last of his things, he dropped a sly comment about you taking care of his place while he was gone, coming over and watering his plants, and even staying the night if you missed him too much. It was his indirect way of giving you a key to his house, and in turn, his heart. He slipped the spare key from his pocket, handing it over and giving you a smile. Before he went to the airport, you found yourselves confessing your hearts and kissing with tears running down your face. He asked you to be his girlfriend before he ever got on the plane.

Every night, when he was holed up in a different hotel room, he was calling you with excitement, unable to wait to tell you all about his day. It was a different kind of feeling, falling in love with someone without anything other than emotional connection. After a year of touring and only being home with you for a few days at a time, he was growing restless and more eager to be with you again. By the time he got home from traveling the world, he missed you so much that he rarely let you leave his side. Within a few months, your belongings were packed up and ready to be taken to his house, and not long after that, it was no longer just Jake’s house, it was yours, too.

When the two of you were together, it grew increasingly more difficult to navigate your lack of sexual experience. He was very affectionate, his hands always on you and kissing you whenever he could. You felt that he was getting frustrated with your rejections, and it forced you into a corner. You had to open up to him, to tell him the truth and that your avoidance was not because of him at all. You sat him down not long after the two of you moved in together, knowing that you should have confessed to him sooner, and fearful that it would change the way he viewed you.

But, almost as if Jake was put on the earth to challenge every single previous idea you had about men, he smiled and held you, expressing his gratitude that you were comfortable enough to share such things with him. He fell in love with you without sex, and that did not change anything for him. You were worth much more to him than that, and he wanted to make sure you knew it. He thanked you for telling him, and he apologized if he ever made you uncomfortable with his actions before your discussion. He promised that he would never push you, and you could take as much time as you needed to open up and explore that with him.

He was a dream come true, and after a few months, you could easily see that he was determined to stay true to his word. He didn’t once make you feel bad for wanting to wait a little longer, and he never pushed you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. Soon after, you began to realize that Jake truly was the one for you, and that all of your previous fears were quickly becoming obsolete. He did not want you for sex; he loved you for your heart, and when you were ready, he would love you for everything else, too.

Even while you found yourself amidst heated make out sessions, and you could feel how much he wanted you, he never pushed you further. When you laid in bed, and he inevitably found his hands becoming more and more curious, he stopped himself before you even had to say anything. He looked the other way when you were getting changed, and even closed his eyes and left the room if he accidentally walked in on you in an awkward position. He was the epitome of patience and kindness, and the longer you watched him respect you in such a way, the harder you fell for him.

You made sure to thank him often, expressing your appreciation for his patience and his willingness to wait. He valued you so highly, and your comfort was always his top priority. Sometimes, you feared that if you made him wait too long, he would begin to lose interest, but every day he proved to you that he was in it for the long haul. He wanted to be with you, and it did not matter in which way. He loved you, and if waiting made you most comfortable, then he would wait forever for you. It quickly became apparent to you that he was the love of your life, and the prospect of sharing that part of you became more enticing every single day.

It was not like you didn’t want to have sex with Jake; if anything, you wanted it so badly that it made it hard to think of anything else sometimes. Once the fear faded away, it was replaced with awkwardness and uncertainty on the topic. You feared that because of your lack of experience, it would be disappointing for him. There were so many questions that you did not know the answer to, and they plagued you almost every time you thought about it. What if he thought you were stupid because you didn't know what you were doing? What if he wasn’t interested in you once you took your clothes off? What if you did nothing but embarrass yourself?

It was all too much sometimes, and you knew the best way to deal with it was to talk to him, but the topic was daunting for you, and it was embarrassing. It was something you knew little about, and it made you feel silly and even a little naïve. You didn’t know what you liked, and you certainly didn’t know how to do anything that he liked. You knew that with the patience that Jake had shown you, he would be nothing but kind in bed, and he would certainly help you figure everything out, but it was so scary to think about, and it was easier for you to avoid it. You were afraid of looking dumb, and the fear hindered you more than anything else. In the time you spent with him, it became more clear that Jake was what you’d been waiting for the whole time, but now you were facing a whole new challenge; being vulnerable enough to let him show you the ropes.

Every so often, curiosity got the best of you, and you let your eyes linger on him a little too long when he was shirtless, and an unfamiliar feeling would blossom in your stomach. He would move a certain way, or his hand would move a little too far up your thigh, and you would be plagued with temptation to touch him. He would wear certain clothes that would drive you crazy when you looked at him for long enough, and it was becoming harder to ignore every single day. He was what you wanted, and it was so difficult to feel that way when you felt paralyzed at the thought of progressing any further. Jake was driving you crazy, and he wasn’t even doing it intentionally; he was just existing, and that was enough to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Like when he would stretch, and a peek of his tanned stomach would be visible, showing you his treasure trail and a slight hint of a v-line, or when he was sleeping so soundly and turned on to his side to pull you to his chest. The feeling of his body against yours was intense, and the longer he held you to him, he more turned on he would get. An ache would begin between your legs as he slept soundly behind you, his erection pressing into your ass. He wouldn’t even realize it, but he would pull you closer to relieve the ache and give him some much needed friction. You would let it play out; you enjoyed it so much, but you could not seem to voice that to him while he was awake. When he woke and realized the extent of his actions, he apologized profusely while you continued to imagine what it would be like if he kept going, pulling your shorts down just enough to give himself access to you.

You imagined what it would feel like as he rested himself against your entrance, speaking softly in your ear as he talked you through it. How he would put his fingers in his mouth, collecting enough spit to lubricate them before his hand drifted between your thighs. You wondered what it would feel like for his fingers to be tracing around your clit instead of your own, how excited he would be just from touching you alone. Your skin tingled at the thought of his rough fingertips gently working at you as he whispered encouragement in your ear, eventually working you up enough to add his cock to you, too. The picture of him being inside you was too much to bear, and just the thought of feeling so close to him was intoxicating. You had to force a smile on your face while apologized, assuring him you were alright while you thought of all of the filthy things that he could be doing to you. You wanted it so bad, but when you finally found enough courage to ask that of him, the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

When he would leave for errands, or when he would go to work in the mornings, you would think back on the incidents that caused the flutter in your belly. The longer you focused on it, the more uncomfortable you became. You would work yourself up to the point of no return, and you would have to relieve yourself before Jake got back. In your shared bed, you would let your hand slip between your legs as you thought of all of the things Jake did to you without even knowing it. It wouldn’t take long until you were a mess, muttering his name as you reached a climax that was stronger than any you’d ever felt before.

It was almost routine, now. You were so needy that every time Jake stepped out for a moment, you would have to take the time and get yourself off. It was the only way you could keep up with the temptations without having to open up to him about it. He would come home, and you would smile and kiss him as if your fingers hadn’t just been playing with your own cunt while you imagined it was him doing it, instead.

This small ritual was exactly what happened on that specific day; you had grown so comfortable with it that when Jake left for the studio in the morning, you couldn’t wait to finish your household chores so you could cut straight to the point. You kissed him goodbye, wishing him a good day, and watched as he walked to his car, guitar case in his hand as he blew a kiss to you over his shoulder. The jeans he was wearing were tight, hugging every inch of his legs and showcasing every small detail to you. The denim sat nicely over his ass, and unfortunately for you, every other part of him that you tried your best not to think about. His shirt was old, the button up beginning to fray at the sleeves and the fabric becoming thin and worn. He had the last two buttons done, but left the top open as always. The soft, tanned skin of his chest made your mouth water and your stomach twist with desire. You did not know how much longer you could hold yourself back.

He got in his car and drove away, but you stayed at the door, watching the now empty space for a moment longer while you collected your thoughts. You were so worked up that your cheeks were burning and your heart was thudding dramatically against your chest. You forced yourself to shower, taking some extra time to shave and really make yourself feel good. You did the dishes, and you grabbed something to eat, and you wondered if you might be able to curb the urge that day. Once you were away from him and busy with other things, the need seemed so much smaller.

As you sat down to eat, you knew that it was absolutely impossible to ignore such a feeling, because the minute your mind was left without a distraction, Jake was the only thing it wanted to focus on. You forced your lunch into you, remembering that Jake said his day at the studio might be a little longer than the last. You had ample time to really draw the whole experience out, so that’s what you did. When you made it to your bedroom, you knew you had about an hour until he was home again. You took off your clothes, put on some music, only quietly so you could hear if the front door opened, you turned off the lights, and you laid on his side of the bed. You closed your eyes, breathing slowly as you remembered the morning the two of you spent together. It started sweet, like always.

You woke up with Jake next to you, the scent of his shampoo lingering in the sheets as the soft sounds of his snores filled your ears. You looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling as you admired the peaceful expression on his face. He was shirtless, as always, only a pair of boxers on as the comforter covered up his lower half. You watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, and his stomach, too. You knew you shouldn’t have looked for so long, because the longer you stared, the more curious you became. You reached out, settling your hand on his stomach gently, a little lower than you usually would. You let your fingers drift over the skin, sending a light tickle through him. He tensed slightly at the feeling, but did not wake. After a few seconds, he woke up just enough to realize it was you touching him.

He moved onto his side, draping an arm over your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Every morning went the same, and you looked forward to it every day. He guided you into him, resting your back against his bare chest. His warmth was comforting, and you wished to live in the moment forever. His hand that was wrapped around you drifted underneath your shirt, resting on your stomach as he brought you even closer to him. The curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips and his nose was brushing against your shoulder. His head was buried in the crook of your neck as he placed a gentle kiss on it. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine and you closed your eyes. He seemed more awake than he usually was, but not completely aware.

You brought your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his own. Once you felt like he’d drifted off to sleep again, you guided his hand upwards even further, so it was resting on your rib cage just below your breast. You wanted to take it further, but instead, you pushed your ass back into him a little. In his sleepy state, the small feeling prompted a physical reaction. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t move any further. For a moment, you had to question if he was awake too, or if he was stuck in a dream about the exact position you were laying in. His rough fingertips against your skin was intoxicating, and you needed more, but you were too afraid to wake him and tell him so.

You moved your hips against him again, feeling his fingers tighten against you. His knuckles brushed against the underside of your breast, and even in a sleeping state, he could recognize that feeling from anywhere. On his own, he moved his hand up further, cupping it in his palm as his head nuzzled further into your neck. Your breath caught in your throat and that familiar feeling began to pulse in the pit of your stomach. His grip grew stronger, and for a moment, you really did believe that he was awake. His thumb drifted over your hardened nipple, causing your hips to move against him again.

You could feel his erection growing against you, becoming more noticeable as each second passed. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the ache begin to make itself known. Your breathing sped, and your heart pounded against your chest. His hand stayed on your chest for only a moment until a small noise escaped him, his own need showing even while he was asleep. His hand traveled down your body, landing on your hip as he pulled you back on him. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep yourself quiet. You bit down on your lip, scared to make a sound in case he woke and the moment ended.

His fingers held you tightly as he pulled you back on to him, his cock painfully hard as his hips moved against your ass. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, and you could only imagine that he was feeling the same type of desperation amidst his dreams. Then, as your heart raced, you heard him whisper your name so delicately that a shiver ran down your spine. He wasn’t just dreaming of sex; he was dreaming of you.

Instead of focusing on what came after, when he woke up with embarrassment written in his features and apologies on his tongue, you pretended what it would be like if you had the courage to tell him to keep going. As you thought of it, you let your hand slip between your thighs. You were already aching for relief, your arousal pooling and showing you just how bad you needed him. You let your middle finger begin tracing slow circles around your clit as your mind clung to thoughts of Jake and just how much you wanted him to take care of you.

You imagined his dark eyes growing heavy as he woke, apologizing being the last thing on his mind. You imagined the desperation in his movement as his fingers dipped below your shorts, moving back from you only for long enough to pull them down over your ass. You thought about how good it would feel to have his hand drift to your cunt, relieving the ache that he’d become so good at causing. You didn’t want him to ask if it was okay, or for any type of permission. You wanted him to have you however he wanted, and you would just be thankful that he was giving you anything at all.

“How does that feel, Angel?” He asked, his voice raspy and rough from sleep as his fingers trace around your aching clit. “Does that feel good? Is this what you want?”

“F-fuck, yes, Jake.” You whine, moving your hips forward to meet his hand, so needy and he barely even touched you yet.

“Just want me to take care of you, baby? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel?” His normally sweet and doting personality was gone, replaced with an animalistic desire after waiting so long to have you. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass, still aching to be touched. He needed you so bad that it was impossible to hide it. “You know I’ll always take care of you, sweet girl… give you anything you want.”

“Y-you, Jake. I want you.” You pleaded, feeling yourself clench around nothing. You wanted him so badly, and you weren’t sure if you could wait any longer.

“You want me, sweetheart?” He crooned, the sound of your desperation sending a shiver down his spine. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please,” you plead, feeling your stomach twist with pleasure.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he whispered, his tone resembling a growl. He drew his hand from you, pulling his boxers down just enough to free himself. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting on it and stroking himself for a few moments. He moved his hips forward, resting the tip of his cock against your entrance. “How bad do you want it, sweetheart.” His low tone settled deep in your bones, making your entire body quiver.

“So bad, Jake. I need you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath stuck in your throat as you feel him push inside of you.

You worked yourself up to the point of absolute desperation. You felt like you were on the brink of insanity, your skin was on fire and your mind was a mess with thoughts of the boy you were so in love with. You were so deep in the fantasy that you could feel it, as if he was in front of you, touching you and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You were sweating, your heart racing and your stomach twisted into knots. You needed to let go, but more than that, you needed him.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was unlocking the front door, a sneaky smile on his face as a bouquet of flowers was held tightly in his hand. He’d been planning this all week; coming home from the studio early to surprise you, just to see the look on your face. He’d been working more often than usual as of late, and he felt like he wasn’t spending enough time with you. He’d specifically told you he’d be later than he actually would be, just so he wouldn’t ruin the element of shock. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he expected to be greeted by you soon after. His confusion grew as he looked to the kitchen and did not see you there. Next, he checked the living room, wondering if you were curled up on the couch reading a book.

When he couldn’t find you there, he figured the only other place you would be is the bedroom. Your car was outside, and you hadn’t mentioned having to run any errands that day. He took to the stairs, wondering if you decided to take a nap or watch a movie in bed. As he climbed to the top of the stairs, he noticed the soft drift of music through the door. He smiled to himself, knowing he would find you wrapped up in blankets and dozing away the day. He could curl up next to you, holding you close while you slept, and maybe even fall asleep beside you. As he reached the door, he was about to reach out and turn the knob, but he froze in his tracks.

An unfamiliar, incredibly enticing sound reached his ears. It was muffled, barely heard over the speaker and through the closed door, but he caught it. Instead of interrupting, he waited and listened, wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He moved his head closer to the door, nearly pressing his ear against the hollow wood as he strained to hear, trying to piece together the situation.

You were so lost in your own little world that you did not hear the door open downstairs, nor did you hear his footsteps in the hallway. You were so close to an orgasm that not much could distract you from it. Your eyes were shut, your breathing labored as you pictured how softly his hands would drift over the curves of your hips, and how intoxicating his tongue on your skin would feel. You thought of the sweet words rolling off his tongue, the imaginary praise and encouragement driving you even closer to a climax. He would be so sweet, so attentive and caring, and you knew he’d make you feel better than you ever had before. You couldn’t help it, the moans falling from your lips were obscene and his name was delicately mixed within them as if he was in there with you, causing the pleasure himself.

He listened carefully, his cheeks flushing with pleasure at the sound of pleasure stuck on your lips. Desire filled him, running all the way from his throat down to his stomach. It made his chest burn and his skin tingle with excitement. In an instant, he’d forgotten about the romantic gesture and the flowers in his hand; he was only focused on wanting to be the reason those sounds were laced around your tongue. He didn’t want to interrupt, and he feared that if he opened the door, he would embarrass you to death. He worried about overstepping, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the sounds were so beautiful that it made his head spin. He tried to force himself to stop listening, fearing he was breaching your trust and invading your privacy, but he couldn’t will himself to walk away.

He was growing increasingly frustrated as he stood and listened, his heart pounding against his chest and his whole body aching with desire. He could feel himself growing more turned on, his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans as his own desperation became stronger. He palmed himself through the fabric, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He knew he should walk away, leave you alone to finish up and go take care of his own problem. It was the right thing to do, and he knew that, but the idea of you touching yourself, possibly to the thought of him, was so enticing.

Just as he thought he could find the strength to walk away, he heard the sound, so gentle and loving that he could not withstand it any longer.

“Oh god, Jake.” You whined, the sound floating through the door and settling deep in his chest. “Jake…”

It was too much for him. His hand shot out, clasping around the doorknob as he gently pushed it open. The light flooded the room, illuminating you laying so intimately on his side of the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, blotchy with red patches. A thin layer of sweat had formed over your body, only making you all the more beautiful to him. Your lips were parted, his name still caught on your tongue as your hand was settled between your legs, working intently at your cunt. Your head turned to the side, your eyes wide with shock as you tried to process the sudden change in the situation. You were so caught up in pleasure that your hand didn’t even move away from your clit as you locked eyes with him.

Suddenly, your brain seemed to catch up with the situation, and embarrassment began to take over. You panicked, scrambling to move your hand away and cover yourself with the blanket, but he took a step closer and shook his head, speaking lowly to you.

“Don’t be shy, Angel.” He rasped, looking down over you with dark eyes. The man before you seemed to be a stranger, nothing like he was in the morning before he left, but in the best possible way. The calm, domineering tone was so different, but it was fantastic all in the same. He looked down at you, his lips curled into a slight smirk as he stood over you at the foot of the bed. The desire he’d been holding back for so long seemed to be coming to the surface. He couldn’t help himself, and a part of you was thankful for it. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. You can put on such a good show.” His eyes lingered over your face, watching you closely to see if you were uncomfortable. Instead of discomfort, you seemed curious, excited, even.

And you were. You didn’t intend for the situation to turn into this, but perhaps it was the best possible outcome. You had been so afraid to have sex with Jake, and for reasons that were completely irrelevant. He was the man you’d fallen so deeply in love with, and someone you wanted to share this part of you with, too. Him walking in on you allowed you to avoid the awkward conversations and nervous stuttering, because you were already worked up to the point of no return. This made the part you were dreading so much easier, and the look in his eye made you feel foolish for ever thinking he wouldn’t love your body just as much as he loved your heart. Something in his expression told you that he would give you all of the direction you needed if you allowed him to do so.

Slowly, you pushed the blanket away from your body, returning your hand to its earlier position. You continued holding his gaze as you brought your middle finger back to your clit, tracing slow circles while he gave you a smile of satisfaction.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m gone all day?” He asked, his tone low and gravelly. He was so overcome with lust that it was impossible to think of anything else. “As soon as I leave, you come up here and play with that pretty little cunt, without me?” His expression was stern, his jaw tense as his teeth clenched together. You could see his cock strained against his pants, and the fact that he was really standing before you rather than existing in your imagination was making the pleasure all the more intense. His words were filthy, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to scare you. You’d been fantasizing about words like that coming from his mouth since the first day you met him.

“Y-yeah,” you nod, stuttering slightly. He didn’t care, nor did he notice, anyway. Your embarrassment was growing smaller with every passing second, and the desire in his eyes made the whole thing seem less terrifying. To see him want you so badly made your stomach twist into knots. He gave you a small smile at the word, happy to see that you weren’t shutting him out. The small expression was enough encouragement for you to keep going.

“Do you think of me, Angel?” He asked, his gaze flickering down to your hand, working carefully to build yourself back up to an orgasm. “Do you wish that I was here doing it, instead?” He asked, reaching one hand down to his cock, adjusting himself in his pants to make it more comfortable while he watched. Your eyes were fixated on his hand, cheeks red at the thought. You wanted to see more, but you weren’t sure what to do next. You were so out of your comfort zone, but something about being able to do it with Jake made it all the more easier. “Come on, baby. Talk to me.” His voice was softer, now, showing you that he was willing to help you through it.

“I-I do,” you nod, catching his eye again. Somewhere in his pupil, he was trying to tell you that it was okay, and you believed it.

“You want to show me what you do when I’m not here?” He asked, gauging your comfort level with his questions.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe, nodding again. He gave you another smile, licking his lips slightly. To see him look at you in such a way was almost too much to resist. Instead of jumping straight into it, you let him talk you through it, slowly and steadily.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Just like that.” He said, watching as your hand worked at your cunt. “Then, once you finish, maybe I can show you what it’s like when someone else does it for you.” He posed it like a statement, but he was asking for permission. He needed to touch you so badly, but only if you wanted him to.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, excited at the thought. You were already so close to the edge, spending the last half an hour working yourself up to a climax. The intrusion slowed down your progress, but definitely did not stop it completely. As you finger drifted over your clit, your stomach was burning with the familiar feeling, but it seemed so much more intense than before now that he was watching you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you could feel the pull of pleasure again, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breathing.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job for me.” He said, but it was strained. He wanted to be the one driving you crazy, and it was nearly torture having to watch you and not touch you. You try to hold your moans back, scared to embarrass yourself, but he thought that your state was all but shameful. He thought you were gorgeous, and he felt so lucky to be able to see you like this at all. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, sweet girl.” He pleaded, taking a step closer to the bed. “Don’t be shy with me.” At his permission, your lips parted and a soft moan filled the air. The sound alone nearly drove him to insanity. He watched you carefully, noticing as the muscles in your stomach tensed with every wave of pleasure. He wanted to remember the way you looked in that moment forever.

You were so close to an orgasm, and the desperation was evident in your movements and your voice. He needed it like the starving needed food, and he couldn’t wait much longer. He leaned down over you on the bed, letting his hand drift over your exposed thigh, the touch light but electric.

“Fuck, Jake.” You expressed your thoughts, feeling the pleasure pulsing under your skin and throughout your entire body.

“Look at me, baby.” He said, wanting you to open your eyes. You did as he said, catching the warm brown of his irises and feeling the warmth flood you. Your breath caught in your throat, and your muscles constricted. You were so close, and him looking at you in such a way made it all the more intense. “Let go,” he hummed, giving you a smile. His eyes were heavy and his chest was heaving with every breath. “Come for me, Angel.” And you did, your limbs trembling as the pleasure took hold. You’d never felt like that in your entire life, and it was so intense that it made your head spin and your chest burn. You didn’t think it was possible to feel such a way, but as you looked into Jake’s eyes, you knew it was all because of him. “That’s my girl.” He sighed, leaning down and pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The feeling made you melt into his touch, his lips so delicate against your warm skin. You wanted more; suddenly, your own hand wasn’t enough. You needed him to do it for you, to feel what it was like when he touched you. You reached down, cupping his cheek in your hand as you let your thumb drift over his cheek. He hummed against you, still focused on the feeling of your thigh against his mouth. The longer he left them there, kissing a trail upwards, the sloppier he became. He sucked light marks into the delicate skin as his hand found your hip, pulling you down on the mattress towards him. He wanted you to feel admired, to know how strongly he felt for you. He wanted you to know that the situation did not have to be scary, and he only wanted to make you feel good. He was there for you, and his pleasure came second to all of your needs.

You watched him as he did all he could to showcase his admiration. You were still aching to be touched, the orgasm you had given yourself long gone and barely enough to keep you satisfied. You needed to feel him, you needed him to bring you to such pleasure, and you couldn’t believe you waited so long to feel him like this.

“Are you okay with this, baby?” He asked, looking up to you with his eyes nearly closed from the weight of lust in his stare.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “I’m… I'm okay.”

“You tell me if you need me or want me to stop, okay?” He ordered, settling on his stomach between your legs. “Even if you just want me to slow down… I need you to tell me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” You hummed a response of agreement, but he didn’t move any further. “I need to hear the words, honey.”

“I will, Jake. I promise.” He gave you a soft smile, looking over your face to search for any discomfort. When he saw only excitement, he brought his own hand between your legs. Carefully, he brought his fingers to you, gathering your arousal on his fingers before bringing them to your clit. The feeling was foreign, but as soon as his fingers landed on the sensitive bundle of nerves, the unfamiliarity quickly became obsolete. His rough, calloused fingertips moved slowly over you as his eyes stayed on your face. It was immediately pleasant, way more so than your own hands doing the work.

“How’s that, Angel?” He hummed, his eyes flickering down to his hand that was working at you. His mouth watered from the sight, but he held himself back from going any further until you were comfortable.

“S-so good.” You whined, looking down at his face. The sight of his eyes fixated on your cunt made your stomach burn with desire. All of the fear you felt before was gone; you should have known better than to think Jake would view you as anything other than gorgeous.

“You want me to keep going?” He asked, looking back up at you.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, nodding at him. He gave you a smile, adding a little more pressure to his thumb. The sensation caused you to move your hips down on his hand, searching for more. He kept the pace for a moment, before sliding his thumb in place of his middle finger. He rested his middle and index finger against your entrance, waiting to see your reaction before doing anything else.

“Is this okay?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded, still sensitive from your first orgasm. Everything he was doing felt fantastic, and you never wanted him to stop. Before going any further, he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers, making sure that it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for you. You watched, feeling a flutter of emotion rush to your core at the sight. He gave you a small smirk, noticing the reaction. Slowly, he added one finger first, wanting you to grow comfortable with the feeling before going any further. Once he knew you were alright, he added a second.

“There you go, beautiful.” He smiled, noticing your eyebrows furrow with pleasure as a moan fell from your lips. Gently, he pumped his fingers into you a few times, spitting on his hand once again to lubricate them further. “God, you have no idea how much I thought about doing this.” He muttered, more to himself than you.

“Y-you… you think about this?” You asked, your cheeks turning red at the thought.

“Think about it?” He nearly scoffed. “Baby, I dream about it.” He corrected, curling his fingers upwards slightly as his thumb brushed over your clit. You let out a sharp breath, the feeling unfamiliar but incredibly pleasant. “I think about making you feel good, and about how pretty I knew you would look while you cum…” he trailed off, driving himself crazy at his own words. “About how good you’d taste, and how good you’d feel…” he cut himself off, realizing he might be too obscene for you at the moment. You looked down at him, almost as if you were pleading with him to keep going. The knowledge that he thought about you the same way you thought about him made your heart skip a beat. “How good you’d feel wrapped around my cock.” He finished, stronger and more confident. He could feel your walls clench around his finger at the sound of his words.

“I think about you, too, Jake.” You confessed, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back on the pillow. The pleasure was more intense than anything you’d felt before, and his words were making it all the more satisfying.

“Yeah? You think about me touching you like this?” He paused his thoughts, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Such a dirty little thing.” He teased, smiling up at your blushed face. “I love it.” He made sure that you knew that more than anything else. “How does this feel, gorgeous?”

“It feels so good, Jake.” You assure him, hoping that he won’t stop.

“Can I try something?” He asks, leaning down and pressing a few more kisses into your thighs.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You nod, unsure of what he had in mind, but trusting him more than anything.

“M’gonna use my mouth, okay?” He said, scanning your face. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, excited at the prospect.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay Angel?”

“Okay.” You nod, your eyes fixated on him as he moved closer to your heat. He moved his thumb from your clit, but you barely have time to mourn the loss before his mouth was on you and his tongue was doing the work, instead. “Oh, fuck.” You whine, reaching down and tangling your hand in his hair. The feeling was more intense, and definitely more powerful. The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue was like heaven, and so unlike anything you’d felt before. He barely started and you could feel your walls fluttering against his fingers. You were bordering another orgasm, and you weren’t sure how much you could take before you let go.

His tongue moved carefully, but with intent. It drifted over your clit, savoring any bit of arousal still left on you. His eyes were closed as his hips moved down on the mattress, the friction barely relieving the ache of his cock, but making it a little more bearable. Your breathing was shallow, and the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair was driving him crazy. He pumped his fingers into you as his tongue worked at you, curling his fingers slightly every time he re-entered. The different types of stimulation was not overwhelming, but just enough as they worked together to push you to the edge.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whined. He hummed against you, showing you how much he was enjoying the sound. The vibration ran through you, tightening the knot in your stomach. You were so close, and your skin was tingling with pleasure. “I think… think m’gonna cum, baby.” You warned. He did not pull away, instead he made his movements more pronounced, needing it more than he needed anything more in his entire life. Your mind was flooded with desire for him, and you could only whimper his name.

He was making you feel better than you ever had before, and you were so in love with him at that moment. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather be doing this with, and you felt so comfortable and loved. He adored you, and he was coaxing you so gently to a climax that it was hard to feel any fear or anxiety about it. He was so gentle and kind, his touch soft and his words sweet. He wanted you to get the most out of it, and more than anything, he wanted to make your first time special. He waited so long for this moment, and now that it was here, he was doing everything in his power to make sure you enjoyed it.

The orgasm washed over you hard, making your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Your fingers tightened around the stands of his hair, and you moaned his name as the pleasure took over. The obscenities falling from your lips painted the walls, burying the memory in the room until the end of time. You felt so good that you forgot how to breathe, and your head felt light. As the intensity died down and you relaxed against him, he began to taper his movements off until he came to a complete stop. As you caught your breath, he pulled back from you and looked up at your face. His eyes were heavy, and lust was hanging thick in the air. He needed you, and he did not have to say it aloud; you could feel it.

As he straightened up, his chin was glistening in the dim light, your orgasm lingering on his skin to remind you of the moment. “How was that, beautiful?” He asked, his voice husky. Your mind was still hazy as you admired his face, watching as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“So, so good, baby.” You sighed, giving him a lazy smile.

“You want to keep going?” He asked, standing from the bed. You admired him, shirtless and standing over you. Your head was swimming with joy and your skin was ablaze with desire for him. You made it this far, and you wanted to go all the way. You were more than ready to take the step with him, especially after he was so caring and loving with you just moments before.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, giving him a smile. He returned the expression, slowly undoing his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops. His discarded it on the floor, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You felt like you were holding your breath as you waited for him to undress, feeling excitement begin to build within you. He slipped out of his jeans, kicking them to the side. Then, he looked at you, making sure you were okay before he took off his boxers. He saw the admiration in your eyes, and it made his stomach flutter with adoration.

“You want me, sweet girl?” He whispered, his jaw tense as he watched you look at him in wonder.

“Yes, please.” You nod, waiting for him to advance further. He gave you a soft smile, pulling off his boxers and throwing them to the side. When he straightened up, your breath caught in your throat. He was stunning. The discreet toned muscles in his abdomen that were so often hidden by clothes took your breath away. The soft v-line leaning down from his hips was delicious, and you could feel the arousal begin to grow once more. When he stepped closer, the light seemed to shine on him a little more. You could see all of him, and he was breathtaking.

His cock was painfully hard, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum, and it was so enticing. Seeing all of him was something so special, and you almost regretted not doing it sooner. He kneeled before you on the bed, settling between your legs as he smiled down at you. “Hi, gorgeous.” He hummed, his expression sweet and his eyes showing you nothing but love.

“Hi,” you grinned, feeling excitement overtake all of the anxiety. He reached to the other side of the bed, grabbing a pillow.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” He said. You did as he told you, and he slid the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a little more comfortable.” He promised, leaning down and bracing his arm beside your head. He gave you a stupid smile that told you how enthusiastic he was. You couldn’t help but smile back, finding his joy infectious. He leaned a little further down, capturing you in a kiss. You melted into the feeling, so relieved at the comfortable and familiar feeling after so many new sensations. You closed your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand to hold him to you. You wanted to live in the moment with him forever.

He didn’t rush you, kissing you softly for as long as you needed. It was messy, but it was beautiful. His teeth pulled your bottom lip between them, teasing you slightly. You smiled against him, finding the playfulness soothing. “I love you, Jake.” You mumble against his lips.

“I love you so much, Angel.” He whispers, looking down over your face. “I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the whole world, you know that right?” Your cheeks burn red, but you can’t hold back your smile. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you.” You sigh, your chest aching with the amount of love you have for him.

“Thank you for trusting me, y/n.” His voice is full of emotion now. The lust took the back burner, second to his love and appreciation for you.

“Thank you for being someone I can trust.” He smiled at your words, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more.

“Are you ready? If not, I can wait.” He assured you.

“I am.” You promised. “I’m ready.” He gave you another kiss, biting back another smile. He felt giddy with you, like it was his first time again, too. The strength in which he felt for you nearly brought him to his knees. He leaned back, looking down over your body with a look on his eyes you weren’t sure he’d ever seen before. It was so full of emotion that it made your stomach twist into knots. He spit into his hand, stroking himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He looked to you for approval, and you gave a slight nod of your head.

“It might be a little uncomfortable, so just tell me if it is, okay? Just want you to feel good, baby.”

“I will.” His concern with your pleasure was driving you crazy. He guided your legs around him and waited for a moment, giving you the chance to change your mind. When you said nothing, he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

The feeling was different, but not unpleasant. It took a moment to get used to it as he fully buried himself in you. He paused before moving any further, looking to see if you were okay. You couldn’t help but notice how full you felt, how well he fit with you, and how right it felt. You caught his eye, letting out a little sigh of satisfaction. The small sound nearly pushed him over the edge as he sat, completely still inside of you. His cock twitched slightly, the knowledge that you were enjoying him sending him feral.

“You want to wait, or do you want me to keep going?”

“Keep going, please.” You breathed, wanting more. He gave you a small smile, moving his hips ever so slightly. You tended slightly, adjusting to the feeling, but as he continued, it began to grow more comfortable. Soon after, prickles of pleasure started to ignite your skin. “Oh, Jake.” You sigh, letting your head fall back on the pillow. “That feels… so good.” His jaw clenched at your words, thrilled at your enjoyment.

“Yeah? You like it, baby?” He asked, reaching down and letting his fingers dust over your bare stomach. They trailed all the way to your chest as he cupped your breast in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb toyed with your nipple, the small sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“I do,” you breathe, nodding your head.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered to himself. “You feel so fucking good, angel. Doing so good for me.” Your walls clenched around him as he spoke, drawing him in further. He wasn’t moving very fast, but the feeling was more than enough. It was exactly what you’d been waiting for, even if you didn’t realize it before. Slowly, he began to pick up the pace, unable to hold himself back any longer. “Tell me if you need me to slow down, baby.”

“I will,” you moaned, feeling the intensity begin to build in your belly again. “God, Jake. F-faster, please.” You pleaded. He let out a groan, resembling more of a growl than anything else. He grabbed your hips, pulling you down towards him a little further. His thrusts sped, and he put a little more force behind his movements. He looked down, watching how your bodies fit together, feeling a whole new sense of desire as your hips met his with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He groaned, leaning down and pulling you into a kiss. He’d waited so long to feel you like this, and he was afraid he might not be able to hold himself back.

“Fuck, Jake.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. His hands on your hips felt so good, his fingers burning into you in the most intoxicating way. You felt better than you ever did before, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way. He was so enchanting, and everything he was doing was euphoric. You felt like you were melting into him, both of you becoming one as the fire burned in your hearts.

“Need you to cum for me one more time, angel. Just one more.” He pleaded, pulling you down on him as he thrusted into you. The angle he was hitting was intoxicating, pulling you in further with every move of his hips. His lips met your again in a heated kiss, your chests heaving as the intensity continued to consume you. Your stomach was twisted in knots and your forehead was glistening with sweat. Your whole body felt like it was ablaze with pleasure, and you needed more than he could give.

He pulled back from you, his hips still keeping a steady pace as his hand reached between you, circling around your clit once again. The second sensation to hold with a fervent appetite, consuming you entirely and making it impossible to think of anything else. His fingers on you and his cock filling you up was pushing you to euphoria, and your vision began to blur. Your mind was hazy as you tried to focus on his face, wondering how you got so lucky to be with someone so beautiful.

“You think you can give me one more, beautiful?” He asked, his voice shaking as he spoke. He was holding himself back to make sure you were pleased, but the idea of him being such a mess for you was driving you even closer to insanity. The most pleasurable part of the whole thing was knowing how good he felt, and how much he loved pleasing you.

“Y-yeah,” you managed a nod, looking up at him with desperate eyes. Your muscles were tightening as you tensed, preparing for the wave of pleasure about to wash over you. The burning in the pit of your stomach was familiar now, and you knew that he was the only one who knew how to get you there.

“Cum for me, baby.” He said, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision. Your legs locked around him began to tremble, and your breathing was ragged. You were so close, and you needed it. More than that, you needed him to cum at the same time.

“Cum with me, please.” You pleaded, admiring the look of pleasure twisting his expression. He let out a groan at your words, his eyebrows knitting together as his hair hung down over his face. You’d never seen Jake look so ethereal before, and it was driving you mad.

“That’s what you want, angel? That will make you happy?”

“Please, Jake.” You said, reaching up and clasping your fingers around his bicep.

“Anything for my girl,” he muttered, his head falling back as he let out a string of curses. He even made the obscenities sound beautiful. You watched as the columns of his neck tightened and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, sweat dripping delicately down across his skin. Strands of hair stuck to the damp skin, framing him in a picture you wished to burn into your mind until the end of time.

The climax hit you hard, and you clenched around him, crying his name as you felt the pleasure fill you completely. He didn’t have time to nurture you through it, because at the same time, his orgasm washed over him. As you rode out the high, his hips stuttered and a breathy moan fell from his lips. He spilled his release inside of you, the feeling so addicting that it forced you into another wave of pleasure. Heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, and after the intensity began to fade, Jake leaned down and wrapped you in his arms. Without withdrawing from you, he turned on his back and pulled you on top of him. With a giggle, you landed comfortably in his arms with a smile so wide it made your cheeks ache.

You rested your head on his chest, your skin still tingling with the ghost of your orgasm. You placed a kiss to the skin, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. His hand trailed down your back, his fingers tickling you slightly as he traced shapes into your skin. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you didn’t need to; the whole world felt perfect.

“How was that, angel?” He asked, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear. You grinned down at him, unable to put your thoughts into words. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great, Jake.” You assured him, leaning into the touch of his hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you? I wasn’t too rough?” His hand shot to your hip as he looked down, trying to see if he left any marks on you. He was panicking, worried that he hadn’t taken good enough care of you. The last thing he wanted was for you to be in pain.

“It was perfect, my love. It was better than I could have ever imagined.” You promised, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He relaxed against you, feeling better at the sound of your words.

“So… it was good? You… you liked it?” He said, his own nerves getting the best of him. You could feel him start to go soft inside of you, but neither of you cared to move. You laid together, smiling in bliss at the moment.

“It was phenomenal… I had a fantastic time.” You said, blushing slightly. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, beautiful.” He pulled your head down so he could place a kiss to your forehead. “It was my pleasure.”

“I do, though. Thank you for being patient, and thank you for caring enough to wait it out. And… thank you for making my first time so special. I’ve always been kind of… afraid, I guess, and you made it so easy.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you, angel. You’re my biggest priority, and I just want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable, and I want you to have a good time.”

“I had such a good time.” You smiled, laying your head on his chest again. “Do you… you think maybe we can do it again, soon?” His grip tightened on you as he let out a small chuckle.

“Sweetheart, we can do it whenever you want. All you have to do is say the word.” He promised.

“I love you so much, Jake.” You whisper, pressing another kiss to his chest with a smile on your lips.

“You have no idea how much I love you, sweetheart.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

516 notes · View notes