#perhaps I came on too strong in the ask | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chosocutegf · 3 months

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I feel like Choso would be able to tell when you're ovulating because he could smell the delicious scent coming from in between your thighs and it makes him drool and and just go feral over you <3

Choso x fem!reader

cw: cunningulus, creampie, p in v

You were lying on your stomach on the bed, playing with your phone, when you heard the door to your room open. You grinned as Choso walked inside. "Hi, Cho," you muttered before returning to play. Choso came to a halt at the doorway when he noticed your bare legs bent in the air, your ass barely covered by a shirt; however, it was the inviting smell that surrounded the room that sent shivers down his spine. Choso had formed a crush on you since moving in with you, but he was too afraid to admit it to you, fearing rejection. But in that moment all of his senses were obfuscated by the smell he had no idea where it came from.

“What’s this sweet smell?,” he asked innocently, and as he took a step closer to your bed, he felt his cock twitch in his pants as the scent grew stronger. You furrowed your brows and shrugged, never looking away from your phone, “dunno… maybe a perfume of mine?”. He nodded mindlessly as he walked to your bed, where he had to physically stop himself from pouncing on you. He had never had problems with auto control but it felt like that scent was trying to make him mad. He reached down to adjust his cock in his pants briefly, not understanding why it got stiff as he took a seat at the edge of the bed, looking at you up and down. The smell got so strong that it was making him lightheaded and as he licked his lips, he could almost taste it in his mouth. “What are you playing at?,” he asked, trying to distract his mind from the delicious scent.

“COD,” you murmured, swearing under your breath when you got killed from one of your friends in the game. Choso leaned down to look at the game above your shoulder, while you groaned, distracted in choosing new weapons. Choso stopped breathing when you turned around and he felt your warm breath hit his face. His cock throbbed at the sight of your lazy smile, “want to play?,” you asked, chewing your lower lip while watching him.

Choso's attention followed the movement, and it was then that he realized the delicious scent he was smelling was not a perfume, but rather came directly from you. Choso hummed as he took a long breath in, his half-lidded eyes peering into yours, "You smell so good, you know that?," His voice was low and breathy, causing your thighs to clench together, taking you by surprise.

You blushed even more when Choso sighed and covered his face with his hands, pushing away slightly. "Everything okay, Cho?," you murmured in your lovely voice, your brow furrowed as you examined your friend. You paused your game and put down your phone before kneeling, revealing your plump thighs. You lifted a hand to Choso and moved closer, withdrawing his hand from his face and looking at him with a puzzled expression, "Are you sick?" Choso shook his head, and when he took a big breath in and scented that smell again, he groaned and bit his lower lip, "your smell," he mumbled as he massaged his firm cock over his pants a second time. As you looked down at his gesture, you felt heat pool between your legs, and Choso stiffened when he smelled the arousal coming from between them.

“Are you… Are you ovulating, perhaps?,” he asked, and you blushed at his words, pulling back slightly with a surprised face; could he smell it? You bit the inside of your cheek, embarrassed. “Do I smell?,” you asked shyly, trying to move away but he was fast to grip your wrist and tug you closer again. You gasped when he wrapped the other arm around your waist, your faces mere centimetres away, “yeah, fucking deliciously,” he said before he leaned down and bit your neck. You mewled at the feeling and squeezed your eyes shut, one of your hand still held between Choso’s fingers, while the other one was gripping his arm. “What are you doing?,” you asked breathless, before your breath hitched at the sound of Choso’s groan at the smell of your cunt getting wetter.

“I don’t know,” he murmured against your skin, before he pulled back slightly to look up at you, his eyes dark as he asked, “Is it okay for you, princess? Your smell is addicting”. You blushed at his words, nodding. That was the final straw for Choso, who moaned and grabbed at your shirt, almost ripping it open before coming to a halt and looking down at your kneeling figure in front of him: your fat thighs almost covered your adorable panties, from which the delicious smell emanated. He licked his lips as he looked at your sturdy nipples and reached up to stroke them, swearing when he felt your aroma intensify as he stimulated you.

You whined and arched your back, biting your lower lip as you looked at your friend with eyes full of desire. Choso was quick to discard your shirt and guide you to lay on your stomach, just like you were before. Then he raised your hips and moaned when you spread your legs and your intoxicating scent hit his nostrils. “Fuck, baby, I can’t hold back,” he whined, before leaning down and burying his face against your pussy, moaning at the smell of you. He brought a hand down to rub his cock before sticking his tongue out and licking just over the wet patch on your panties. His cock throbbed at your moan. “Can’t believe you hid this from me the entire time,” he moaned against you, before he brought his hands to your ass, spreading your asscheeks, and wrapping his lips around your clothed pussy, he sucked hard just where your hole was.

You whined at the pleasure and arched your back, trying to push your hips back against Choso’s face, but he held you tightly in his grip. Before you could realise, he brought down your panties, and you mewled at the feeling of his breath hitting your drenched cunt; at the sight, Choso had to grip the base of his cock, feeling himself already close to cumming. “Fuck, almost came from the sight of your pretty pussy, baby,” he moaned, licking his lips before he leaned closer, spreading your folds with his thumbs and watching entranced the way juices dripped down your clenching hole. It was as if it was calling for him to take a taste.

And so he did, and the moan he made at the sweet savour rivalled those of porn stars. You gripped the sheets tightly while his mouth was wrapped around your cunt and he sucked hard to get every last drop of juice in his mouth. He pulled back slightly to look down at it with half lidded eyes, smirking at the way your hole was fluttering. He spit down on it and observed how the glob of saliva dripped down your pussy lips until stopping at your clit. He moved his mouth closer and took the little bud between his lips, swirling his tongue around and revelling on the sound you were making. Your body was shaking in his grip and he lost track of time, lapping at your cunt like it was his meal after days of being starved.

He was brought back to reality when you came around his tongue, your walls squeezing his muscle hard and your juices dropping down his chin. He looked up from your pussy, a satisfied smirk on his face, as he took in your shivering form, “Choso,” you whined when he let you go and your legs collapsed on the bed. Choso clicked his tongue, and pulled out his cock, stroking it while he looked down at your spent figure, “I’m not done with you yet, pretty”.

You glanced at him from your shoulder and mewled when you saw him stroking his big cock while looking at you. His bangs were almost covering his eyes, and under it, you could see his lustful gaze observing you as if you were his prey. You shook your ass and Choso growled at the sight, before leaning closer and gripping the supple skin of your ass, making you wince at the strength, “please,” you moaned.

Choso took a deep breath in, inhaling your scent, before he spread your legs wider, positioning his cock between your pussy lips. He moaned at the soft sensation of your sensitive skin against his shaft, entranced by the way his tip disappeared between your supple pussy. “I’m gonna fuck you, doll, m’okay?,” he asked, and you wondered if he really wanted an answer or he was going to do it nonetheless. You nodded, “yes, please,” moving your hips slightly to get his tip to slide inside you. Choso let out a breathless chuckle at your impatience and gripped your hips, holding you firm as he slowly slid inside you, “good girl”.

The way Choso fucked you was punishing and the grip he had on your hips was surely gonna leave bruise marks. You hid your face in the pillows and moaned, your eyes tearing up from the way his cock was massaging your walls and stretching out your pussy. You screamed his name, trying to get him to slow down, but Choso was bewitched from the smell you still had, and he couldn’t think about anything else other than the way your cunt was milking him.

When you reached down between your legs to rub your clit, Choso whined at your walls clenching around him and he leaned over you, moaning in your ear, feeling himself getting closer. Both your screams got mixed and soon after you two came together, Choso spurting his seed inside you, and marking you. Even if he was overstimulating himself, he kept going, not having had enough of your sweet cunt.

hope you like this one!! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

(m.list)

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diejager · 4 months

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omegaverse anon here, could you do the cod group with a beta reader? Like, they stay really out of the way, not really used to getting any attention from alphas or omegas

Unusual Attraction Cw: omegaverse, awkward!reader, ell me if I missed any.

You were an oddity of a beta, your stronger nose made interacting with people harder than other betas, it made you stand out from your peers, they deemed you a beta stronger than the usual beta and that made you feel isolated and alone. You were used to alphas ordering you around and moving you from team to team for your nose and clear mind, you were a asset to have on certain teams where they needed a buffer that wasn’t an heat-prone omega. And despite your constant entourage of omegas and alphas, you never stopped flinching or wincing when someone’s scent became too strong, the musk burning your nose in an enclosed area like the mess hall, the training areas, or even public spaces.

You preferred keeping to yourself, to alleviate the growing headache pounding at your head, to find a calmer corner of the base you were permanently moved to. You knew the people you worked with from prior assignments, a few times on month long covert operation and others on week long clandestine missions offshore, but you liked your silence when you could afford to find it. Even outside, their scents clung to your clothes, the strong smell of Price’s smoke and Ghost’s bourbon, the distinct notes of strength and dominance that screamed Alpha, Soap’s sweeter and softer citrus that you could pick up despite the scent blockers and Gaz’s gentle vanilla, a soothing calmness that reminded you that you weren’t the only buffer to the team, that you were the only beta.

“Found ye, Hound!” You liked the way Soap said your callsign, his accent coming into play to make it sound different —special.

He swung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side, your nose twitching from how close you were to his scent glands. You felt like he did it with intention, always finding a way to have you smelling like him and filling your mind with his scent, it was near addictive —so much so that you would’ve succumbed to it if you were an alpha, mind shutting off and body acting on it’s own volition. You wouldn’t blame anyone for it, Soap smelled so good, a sinful delight that people were deprived of, and when he wasn’t using the patches, it numbed your mind, made you slow and sloppy with your thoughts and acts. He knew the effect he had on you and he loved it from his constant hazing, flashing his gland in your face and drowning you in it whenever he could. Perhaps it was his claim on you, you never truly understood the whole dynamic, you were a buffer with a better nose, nothing more and nothing less.

“We were lookin’ fer ye,” he walked back in, still holding you in his grasp, “We’re going tae the pub. Thought ah’d come and get ye.”

They, on multiple occasions, had invited you to go drink with them, extending that olive branch your way with smiles and encouraging nods. You were tempted to accept, but you didn’t do well in enclosed and crowed spaces, so you declined over and over, but they never stopped asking you. It got to a point where you were waiting for them to stop asking, to tire themselves of befriended you, and yet, they never did, going so far as to pull you along despite your grumbling and exhaustion, promising a night of rest and relaxation at the pub.

And fortunately, their words rang true, it was a blessing to your nose that the owners burned an overpowering but gentle incense that blocked all types of scents, a relief you rarely got. The only thing you could smell was the comforting scents of your new pack, the oil-packed burgers and fries, and the strong burn of alcohol, all thing that you didn’t mind as long as it came in moderation to your nose. After your first drunken and giggling visit to the pub with them, basking in their attention, Soap throwing himself over Ghost’s lap and grinning at you cheekily, Gaz leaning against your side, nuzzling the crook of your shoulder, Ghost’s big and warm hand grasping your thigh and Price looking on with so much pride.

“The occasion?” You followed him blindly, blinking lazily at him.

“Yer third month with us,” he smiled widely, something carnal and wild, befitting more an alpha than the omega he was. Maybe that’s why he could easily pass as an alpha, with all his bravado and broadness, either way, he was a dangerous man alone, but as a Task Force, they were a menace.

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troublesomesnitch · 28 days

Text

The Novice

Aemond x Septa!Reader

The one-eyed prince makes a late night confession.

Contents: Book!Aemond. Pure filth, extremely dubious consent/non-con. Confessional dirty talk, coercion, power imbalance.

Words: 4200

Mostly book!Aemond, but with some show elements added to make him a real piece of shit.

CW: sexual assault!

Proof read, but I am not good at proof reading.

Twice a week, the grand sept receives fine visitors.

It is always something you look forward to, something special and exciting; hearing guards in the streets outside, and the swift feet of errand boys running to inform your superiors.

The queen will be arriving shortly.

There is not much preparation that needs to be done, because you never tarry in your duties - there are always fresh matches laid out, candles ready to be lit, not a spec of dust on the altars. But for the queen, you go above and beyond. You fetch cushions for her dainty knees, you light incense in every corner, and you usher out any crowds that are not worthy of her presence.

You greatly admire the queen. She is all that a lady should be, the very image of womanhood. Gracious, pious, beautifully but modestly dressed, and always kind and courteous to you. She says thank you, and blessed day, sweet Sister, and she asks about your training, your health and wellbeing, what charitable causes you wish to devote yourself to.

The older septas say that the queen seems to have taken a liking to you, and that perhaps if you are lucky, she will request for you to join her household once you have taken your vows. To be a helper and companion to her daughter, and to teach the little prince and princess - her grandchildren, which is a strange thought, because the queen is so young and so beautiful to already be a grandmother.

She is certainly much younger than her husband. The king is old and frail and rarely leaves his castle now, but even in his youth, he never came to the sept. At least that is what you are told. Septon Alester says he is an unworthy husband, and an unworthy ruler, too. A heretic, like all the rest of his Valyrian kin, who flout divine law and believe themselves above the gods.

You would never dare to utter such a thing, but it seems at least partially true - in all the time you have served the sept, the king has never accompanied his queen to prayer. Not even once. She always comes alone, escorted by her guard and her maid. And sometimes by her son.

The one-eyed prince. The one who rides the largest beast in the world.

There are many rumours swirling about noble lords and ladies, but especially about him. In the taverns and winesinks people say he is of a sullen disposition, and that the loss of his eye at such a young age has left his face hideous and deformed - clearly they have never seen him, but you have, and you know it is nothing more than malicious slander.

The prince is as beautiful as his mother.

They look lovely when they kneel together by the altar, with their hands delicately folded and their heads respectfully bowed. Regal, godly. Like the Mother and the Warrior, you think. You often wonder about the contents of his prayers - what could a royal prince possibly wish for? Not as many things as a queen, it would seem, because he never kneels for as long, retreating after a minute or two to stand and wait for his mother. Watch over her; look at her with devotion and reverence. You cannot help but steal quick glances at him; at his graceful posture and his strong face, and you are always too slow to look away, so sometimes he catches you in it. Even when you stand on his blind side, he somehow knows to turn his head and meet your gaze. The little bow he gives you is courteous, but the taunting smile that follows is not, and you must always remind yourself that you have done nothing wrong.

It is not a sin to be curious.

—

When the evening bell tolls, and the city gates close, the High Septon calls to prayer. But one person must always stay behind to keep vigil until the morning, and the duty is shared between all servants of the Faith. Septons and septas, novices, even holy brothers and sisters, sometimes. Only the Most Devout are exempt from it, as well as those who are weakened by illness or old age.

You are neither, but you do not mind taking your turn. It is an easy task, as all of the city is asleep, and those who are not would much rather drink and carouse than come to a place of worship. Here, the night is quiet and calm, and you quite like these hours of solitude. Alone in the sept with only the statues, and maybe the gods, for company.

On this day though, you are startled from your thoughts when the heavy doors are swung open.

You have never before encountered guests at this hour, so your fearful imagination is quick to jump to conclusions - the man could be a thief, a common brute, a scoundrel hiding from a brawl, or - gods forbid - from the City Watch.

But when you peek out from your little corner, you are surprised to see that it is the prince. And that he is alone.

He is dressed differently tonight, in dull colours and coarser fabrics, far simpler than what he usually wears. Perhaps in an attempt to go unnoticed among the common people - but if that was indeed his intention, he has very much failed. Everything about him is unusual, from his hair to his eye to the shining silver clasp at his neck; the immaculate tailoring of each of his garments. Even the way he carries himself makes it abundantly clear that this is no grocer or stonemason.

You cast your eyes down as his steps echo through the sept, purposeful and determined. Clearly heading towards you, but you would hate to be presumptuous, so it is only when he is right in front of you that you rise from your seat to curtsy. Reverently, so deep that your knee almost touches the floor.

“Sister,” he nods. “I have sins I wish to confess - a troubled mind I wish to unburden.”

You curtsy once more, though not as low this time.

“I am not ordained to hear confessions, but I should be happy to fetch a septon - “

“No,” the prince says. “I will speak to no one but you.”

What he demands is a breach of the rules, and a cruel thing to ask of you, but there is not much to be done about it. You can hardly refuse a prince of the realm, and what if he tells his mother that you were unhelpful? After all, it is your sacred duty to comfort and guide the faithful. To lead them on the path to righteousness.

So you nod, draping your veil over your head as you both sit down on your little bench. Right beside one another, so close that your legs almost touch. A proper septa would say confess, and may the Father judge you justly, but that is not appropriate for you, so you merely look down at your folded hands and wait for the prince to speak.

“I am plagued by impure thoughts,” he begins.

The colour drains from your face in an instant. Oh, not this.

Anything else, you do believe you could handle. Envy, drunkenness, greed, gambling, even violent offences, perhaps. Anything but this. But you remain calm; force yourself to keep your composure as you speak.

“All young men have impure thoughts. It is perfectly natural.”

From the corner of your eye, it looks as though the prince smiles ever so slightly.

“Of course,” he nods. “But mine are by nature nefarious, because the lady I desire is a chaste and pious woman… a maiden, and justly proud of her innocence. She would be distraught if she knew the wickedness she inspires.”

You feel yourself blushing. Although you are sufficiently educated on the matter, speaking of such things makes you feel ashamed and uncomfortable. As it would most young women. Confession or not, nothing about this conversation is appropriate, and you want nothing more than to be done with it and return to quiet contemplation. You keep your eyes cast down, and you are as curt as you dare when you answer.

“Then you should not sully her, My Prince, even in your thoughts. You should pray to the Smith for strength, or to the Warrior if you prefer, and occupy yourself with noble pursuits. Prayer, studies, and so forth.”

“Oh, but I do,” the prince says gravely. “I devote my every hour to noble pursuits. And yet time and time again I sully her, and my own hand too in the process - yes, I must confess that I have sinned exceedingly, in both thought and deed. These urges of mine are so unbearable, I simply must relieve myself…” He pauses to look at you coolly, his brows drawn together in a disapproving frown. “You look quite pale, Septa, is my confession too scandalous for you? I should hope the Faith would not admit a novice so unfit for her position…”

“Of course not,” you quickly mutter, though in truth, you are mortified. This is far beyond your station and skill. Not only is the matter highly delicate, but you must also carefully choose your words so as to not offend a member of the royal family. And one with a - supposedly - unfortunate temper at that.

“It is not for me to command a prince,” you begin, “but it is my duty to remind you that the Faith condemns such practices - surely you know that by indulging your urges, you will only make them stronger.”

“I have tried to refrain from it,” the prince laments. “But even then, she haunts me… at night, I dream that I lie on top of her - that I spread her thighs and press her body to my own. And these dreams are so vivid, so terribly arousing, they often cause me to - forgive me, Sister - emit my seed.” He sighs deeply, and turns his face away, his shoulders tense; his handsome features full of torment. “A rather shameful predicament, for a grown man - is it not?”

Perhaps, you think, but a common one nonetheless, and not something he should be chastised for. You know perfectly well that there are some functions of a man’s body that are beyond his control, as do the gods who made it so. It is best not to dwell on it.

“My Prince,” you say instead, with what little confidence you can muster, “ - with your permission, I would offer you this advice: if you cannot restrain yourself, and if you care for this lady, then you should court and wed her.” You fiddle nervously with your dress, lowering your voice to barely more than a whisper. “It is a wholesome thing, for spouses to give their bodies to each other - for a man to make love to his wife…”

The prince hums, either in agreement or contemplation, you can’t tell. But you hope he will take your words to heart, and make this irresistible woman his wife. If the mere sight of her can stir such passion, then he would surely grow to love her deeply, and their union would be happy and prosperous. Blessed by the gods.

- Or maybe not.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” the prince says. Slowly, thoughtfully. “Because you see, my lady is a septa - a novice, as it were…”

His words trail off, and his hand reaches to caress your face, right by the edge of your veil, where a strand of hair has loosened from its pin.

You recoil at once, springing from your seat to look at him with shock and horror.

“This is highly improper - “

“I have thought of nothing but you,” he exclaims, impassioned, rising quickly to reach for you once more, “ - since the day I saw you, I have wanted no one else - ”

Again you manage to evade his embrace, but the prince is tall, and his legs are long and agile. Each one of his strides is worth two of yours, and when you back away he follows, stepping ever closer until you are backed up against a pillar.

Oh how you wish that it had only been a thief come to rob the sept. You could have easily escaped out the little hidden door by the dias; let them take whatever riches they could carry. There is only silver here, and the Faith has no shortage of that.

The prince is after something far more precious.

“Don’t touch me - ” you plead, feeling your pulse quicken, the hair rise on the back of your neck. He is too near, moving to loom over you, intimidating and imposing, and so tall that he must bend to brush his nose against your hair.

“It is a waste,” he murmurs. “That such beauty should only belong to the gods.”

You should flee. You should defend your virtue. Maids and ladies, harlots and tavern girls, all women know to protect themselves, to kick where a man is the weakest, to scratch, bite, shout, make a racket. There are guards patrolling the square outside, and septons sleeping nearby in their cells - if you were loud enough, someone would hear you and come to your aid.

But at what cost, when your assailant is a prince?

You dare not risk it, so you stand frozen in place, too frightened to push him away, too frightened to even look at him as he gropes your body, touching it in ways that it has never been, and should never be touched. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other trails over your dress, feeling your shape underneath the fabric. Your stomach, your hips, your bottom, and especially your breasts.

He cups them with both hands, kneading and massaging them hard, pressing his fingers into your flesh.

“I would take you right here,” he breathes. “Against this very pillar, for all your gods to see - ”

The blasphemy, the shameless vulgarity - you gasp, and at the sound, the prince chuckles faintly.

“You said yourself it is a wholesome thing…”

“For husbands and wives -” you squeak, “please, you mustn’t hurt me!“

“Never,” he says, bringing your hand to rest on his chest, over his heart, as if to reassure you. “If you would only oblige me, I swear I will be gentle…”

You shake your head, but it does not dissuade him. He kisses your hair, your cheeks, the shell of your ear, touching his lips to every little sliver of exposed skin. Not just your face and neck, but your forearms too, your wrists, the insides of your elbows. Anywhere that lets him truly feel you. Feel the rapid beat of your pulse; the warmth and softness of a woman’s body.

And as he touches you, you feel him. His manhood, stiff against your hip when he presses himself against you, moaning softly at the feeling. It is a most intimate sound, and you are ashamed to realise that your body instinctively responds to it; to the closeness, the touch of a man. You feel warm in your chest, and wet between your legs - unnerving, and so at odds with the panic that still grips you, with the tears that prickle in your eyes.

“Please don’t - ” you whimper, just as his teeth graze your jaw, drawing a single, involuntary sigh from your lips. One that spurs him on to swiftly yank the veil off your head and discard it, fully exposing your hair and neck.

He pulls back to look at you, your neatly pinned tresses, your smooth throat and collarbones. Your beauty that he has long wished to admire.

“Like an angel,” he says softly, longingly, taking your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “A little angel - the Maiden in the flesh - “

“That is a blasphemous thing to say,” you sniffle.

It only makes him laugh, and before you can say anything else, he tilts your face up so he can press his mouth to yours.

No one has ever kissed you before. Many boys have wanted to, but none were ever allowed the privilege. You always knew you did not want to be a wife. That you had a different calling.

It is a very strange sensation, this kiss. Hot, wet, and sticky. You do not return it, and yet the prince is undeterred, parting your lips softly but insistently, just enough to slip his tongue inside. It gives him pleasure, even when your mouth is slack and unresponsive - you can tell from his blissful sighs, and from the indecent way he moves his hips, rubbing the prominent bulge in his trousers against you. He is so entranced by your mouth and your body that you feel a treacherous sense of relief, thinking to yourself that if this is how he wants to gratify himself - by licking your tongue and humping against your hip - you will let him. No real harm has been done to your virtue, and the gods will understand you had no choice. Already you are silently saying your prayers, to the Warrior for courage, the Mother for compassion, the Father for leniency -

But you are cruelly interrupted when the prince draws back and begins to loosen the closure of his breeches.

“No - oh no, no - ,” you shriek, but as you try to wriggle from his grasp, his face hardens and his gentle touch becomes like a vice. Rough and unyielding, holding you in place.

“You must forgive me,” he rasps, his gaze dark with lust, his nostrils flaring, “ - for I can no longer deprive myself of what I so desire...”

He is so much stronger than you. With an impeccably polished boot he shoves your feet apart, his one hand pinning your arms behind your back, the other hiking up your skirts, determined, deaf to your frantic pleas.

“You don’t understand, I must remain chaste!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, “I know the workings of the Faith, you’ve taken no solemn vows yet - “

“No, I have, I have!” you cry. “I pledged myself to the Maiden when I was a girl!”

It is the truth, but the prince does not care. He silences you with another desperate kiss, crushing his face to yours, reaching to hook his hand under your knee and lift your leg. He has you trapped, pinned between his body and the stone column, and you can claw at him until your hands bleed, it makes no difference. Your dress is bunched up, your legs forcibly parted, your most intimate secrets laid bare to be violated. A great sin, made even greater by the circumstances, and yet the gods have abandoned you, left you here to suffer.

They must be occupied elsewhere, and the statues too stand motionless on their plinths, with their tranquil faces, staring blankly into the distance as though deliberately blind to your tragedy.

To the hand that worms its way underneath your smallclothes. The nails that dig into the back of your neck, holding your head in place. The mouth that swallows up your sobs until he is forced to break the kiss so he can reach between your bodies and finish unlacing his breeches.

You gasp for breath, looking up and straight at him, your eyes wet and pleading, your lip trembling.

“Don’t ruin me, please - I beg you, don’t take from me what can never be replaced - “

The prince’s hand hesitates on your thigh. His one eye flickers between your two, between the tears that flow uncontrollably down your cheeks; your little hands clenched into fists against his chest.

For a split second there’s a shadow of something softer on his face, a strange draw around his mouth, and then he curses and releases your leg. And you bolt, without thinking, ducking under his arm to sprint towards the door and safety.

You manage all of two steps before the prince catches you and pins you to the pillar once more.

“Not yet - ” he orders, slipping a hand down the front of his trousers to finally free his member from its confines. He cradles it at the base to proudly show it off before he begins to stroke himself, shamelessly and urgently, while you look on. At once frightened and sinfully curious.

You have never seen it before. The masculine organ. Only in drawings, of which some were intended to educate young women, and others were of a much lewder nature. The prince’s manhood does look much like those anatomical illustrations, only it is bigger in person than you had imagined. Hard and swollen with need. It fits perfectly in his fist, and the skin glides back to reveal the head, which is thick and meaty, and a dark purple red. It almost looks as though it should be painful for him, having it filled and engorged in such a way. Having it stretched to be so big. But of course you know that is not the case. And even if you didn’t, his gasp of pleasure would have made it very clear.

He reaches for your wrist, tugging it down between his legs, and you are quick to look away when he closes your fingers around it, with his own hand on top. Somehow, you reason that if you keep your eyes averted, it is not as sinful. Not as deserving of punishment.

But you can still feel it. In your palm, against your clammy skin. Warm, and pulsing as he squeezes your fingers tight around the shaft, moving them from the base to the tip and back down again, using your hand to pleasure himself. Slowly at first, but as his arousal grows he quickens the pace, moving your hand only over the tip of his member, massaging the bulbous head with quick movements. All the while groping at your chest.

And you let him do it. All of it, resigning yourself to be used at his will and pleasure. It is the best and safest course of action now, and all you can do is bear it. You keep your sobs inside, and your eyes cast down, staring mindlessly at the patterns in the stone floor until the prince’s hand seizes your jaw.

“Look at me,” he commands through gritted teeth, running his thumb over your mouth, pressing against your lips. “Open - suck, use your tongue - “

You do as he says, wanting so desperately to just be done with it - once he has finished he will surely let you go. The thought prompts you to suck on his fingers with increasing fervour, taking them deep into your mouth, running your tongue along the length of them, along his knuckles; making him gasp at the feeling.

“Fuck, like that - gods yes,” he moans, letting go of your hand to lean against the pillar for support, his eye falling closed, his hips making shallow, instinctive thrusts.

You continue with the same movements, up and down over his manhood, trying to mimic exactly what he did before, whilst still sucking on his fingers, too. Letting him feel your soft mouth and your warm lips; your little wet tongue caressing his skin. You haven’t a clue as to what you are supposed to be doing, and there is no grace or skill to your licks, but each swirl of your tongue makes the prince moan regardless. He would probably much rather feel this attention somewhere else, but clearly he has the wits to know that shoving his member into an unwilling mouth is not a wise idea. So he contents himself with this.

And thankfully, it does not take long before your efforts are rewarded.

When you choke back a mewl his hips jerk forward, and his hand flies down to close around yours again, guiding you to squeeze him harder and faster. His jaw goes slack, and his manhood stiffens even more, and even though you are inexperienced, you know what it means. You can feel it, feel his sac tighten, feel him twitch in your hand as semen travels up his shaft. He bends to lean his forehead against yours, and finally, finally, he spurts, moaning with pleasure as he empties himself onto your hand, his seed pulsing out in hot, wet squirts. Soiling not only your skin and your dress, but your conscience too; your virtue, honour and dignity.

And at last it is over.

The prince slumps forwards against you, hiding his face in your neck. His body trembles with the final waves of his rapture, and he brushes his fingers over your hair in a strangely intimate way, a tender way. As though you were lovers.

In a sense, now, you suppose you are.

Before he leaves you he quickly tidies his clothes, throwing his cloak around his shoulders and tucking his shirt into his trousers. And once he has made himself presentable, he retrieves your veil too. Brushing it off with a gloved hand and draping it over your head once more.

“Thank you, Sister,” he says sweetly, cradling your face to kiss your lips and then your forehead. “I feel much more at ease now.”

No sooner have the doors closed behind him before you fall to your knees by the Maiden’s altar to beg for her forgiveness.

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @helaelaemond, @targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

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vminizzle · 6 months

Text

Relief

꒰ genre ⤑ suggestive, FLUFF

꒰ warnings ⤑ dry humping, (cum in pants), that’s all 🚶🏽‍♀️

꒰ words count ⤑ 0.6k

꒰ A/N ⤑ hi hi hi everyone, well I'm back again I guess. I really wanna apologize for my inactivity. Here's a very little drabble like promised. It's really nothing but, perhaps a proof of me still being alive here? lmao. So, thank you for waiting for me. I'm still working on SL pt.3., I know I'm taking so much time. sorry sorry, I guess I'm more lazy than I thought ahah. Unfortunately for the people waiting, I'll release the third part next year only. Please stay patient. Reminder : English is not my first language. And... I'm a feedback craver, please don't be shy and leave a lil comment please, you know I love it! xoxo - sunny

M RATED?

Jungkook came home exhausted from work as he found you in bed, wearing just one of his oversized shirt and a pair of panties.

“hey! you’re home.” you said sweetly as you started to sit up a smile plastered on your lips, but he shook his head gesturing you to stay still before crawling into bed hovering on top of you.

Laying down on your chest, his face pressed into the crook of your warm neck, he just sighed as he shifted against your panties.

You curled one of your legs over his thin waist, closing your eyes enjoying the friction of the rough material of his pants against your thin panties.

Jungkook ruted forward against you with a low moan passing by his lips. His cold hands sliding up under your shirt, feeling your warm skin, making you shivered as his long digits caressed your sides.

He didn’t pull his face from your throat as he continued humping against you, going faster and faster until he finally still his hips, pressed tightly to yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth.

You stroked over the back of his head, sliding your fingers into his soft black locks.

“was it good, babe?” Jungkook slid off to his side, a tired smile decorating his pretty lips.

“thank you my love.” he said softly.

You threw your right leg over on his waist, and kissed his cheek.

“bad day?” you asked turning on your side to stare at him.

“I had too much work. So many things to deal with today.” he sighed heavily closing his eyes.

“Wanna talk about it? I’m all ears.” you said softly playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“Tomorrow.” he replied grabbing your hand gently in his.

“don’t wanna shower before sleeping?”

You sat a little looking down at him waiting for an answer.

“’m too tired to move.” he chuckled eyes still closed.

You stared at him and sat cross-legged this time.

“You want me to help you?”

He opened his eyes, standing himself up on his elbows.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he smiled, his dimples on full display making your heart melt at how cute he was.

“It’s okay darling, I’m fine don’t worry.” he reassured you.

“But you just c-“

“want to help me, huh?”

“Yes of course.” you replied immediately.

“ok then.” he laid down on his back again.

“Cuddle with me.” he said grabbing your arm pulling you so you’re on top of him.

“You’re so-“ you started before he cut you off.

“in love with you?” he said smirking making you close your eyes hiding your face into the crook of his neck, smiling at his words.

He laughed softly at your reaction.

“I love you.” he said one hand stroking your lower back, the other hand, fingers tangled in your hair.

“I love you ‘koo.” you whispered against his neck, peppering soft little kisses on the smooth skin.

He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips, taking his sweet time to enjoy the softness of them. It was a lazy kiss but it was full of love. He smiled at you lovingly as he parted away.

“I promise to make it up to you tomorrow.” he muttered feeling guilty about not making you come earlier.

“it’s fine.” you chucked shaking your head.

“Good night.” you kissed him one last time, before laying your head down on his muscular chest again, his strong cologne invading your nose.

“Good night my love.” He laid a gently peck on your forehead, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

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baddiewiththebook · 8 months

Text

ONE OF THE BOYS

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n originally a one-shot, but I couldn’t help myself and wrote some more!

Part 1 [Part 2]

-> <-

Your heart sinks into the deepest pits of your chest. The tiny inconspicuous hole where no one would ever look. Your spirit lies under the earth, while Eddie lies bricks instead of dirt across your corpse. A quite violent death you have taken on.

“Are you still with us?” Gareth waves a hand in front of your face. Grease slips between his fingers from his two day old burger that your school pretends was freshly slapped on a grill that morning.

You squirm. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Eddie says you could come to practice,” he throws his hand up. “You’re one of the boys!”

Right.

Like someone had thrown water across your face, you slide theatrically to the floor in a puddle of you. Theatrically speaking - of course.

The lunchroom chatter dies in the back of your head like you just did a moment ago. You excuse yourself from the group, while claiming that you have forgotten your exam in the next class period and you should really put in at least a few moments of study time.

Your few moments are actually spent stowing yourself away in the ladies room.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he asked you out!” A girl squeals. “What are you going to wear? Tell me everything!”

You had stopped your self doubting and your eternally ill fading romantic imaginations you came up with while you stare at the dull gaze in your eye behind the dirty spotted bathroom mirror. You should focus on your studies anyway. Failing your senior year of high school, again, was not on your list of to-do's.

Then again, the two girls gossiping were very pretty. You took notes. Hair full and down to her chest in length. The kind of hair Texas wishes they had. Cheeks were plump, and dusted pink with some powder of sorts. Full lips covered in sweet strawberry gloss. You can smell their gloss from just a sink away. That, or perhaps that was their perfume. Sweet and feminine.

“I'm sorry,” one of them notices you staring, while she applies a thick coat of her lip-gloss. 'Strawberry Dream' is what the little label on the tube reads. “Are we being loud?”

“No, no,” you shake your head.

“Okay,” she sings awkwardly, before continuing the conversation her friend had started. “Anyway, Josie, I think we should go shopping for a new outfit. Oh! I - so - need a new gloss. Something sexy!”

“Sexy?” You accidentally slip the words, before you could stop yourself.

The girl cocks her head. “Do you usually eavesdrop?”

Not that they weren’t talking in front of her.

“My bad,” you tug at the ends of your t-shirt. “Erm- you’re trying to impress this boy?”

“Yes,” she says simply. “Do you have some sort of advice?”

Looking you up and down, she spots the stains from your lunch at your chest. Trying not to snort and jeer at your expense, she waits for you to respond. Her cocky tight lipped smile says enough.

“Actually,” you reply. “I- Why don’t you try being yourself? He clearly likes you to ask you out, so maybe you could tone it down?”

“Tone it down?” She frowns. “Like you? Tell me er- girl of some sort- how many dates have you gotten with that fresh out of bed look you wear every single day. You look like a shy boy. Yeah, I see you around. You’re small like a shrimp. You need to be shark in these waters or your going to get your head bitten off. Put on a bra. A low cut top. And, maybe some blush to hide that dead corpse face you wear-,”

“It’s my skin-,”

“When you get a date, then you get an opinion. Got it?”

“Got it,” you zip your lips. What a bitch.

-> <-

Practice, as the group of men slamming poorly synchronized chords together, is held at Gareth’s garage promptly after school. You did not participate in the noise, but rather you sit in a lawn chair onlooking. Fanning yourself with your hands, sweat glistens across your skin like armor.

Your friends finish their set. Eyes on you, you cheer for their noise that will surely draw eyes from the neighborhood. Someone will be by soon to tell the boys to quiet their racket, and to perhaps indulge themselves in a new activity like reading a book. The Book, perhaps.

“You’re getting better,” you propose promisingly.

Eddie nudges your shoulder with a fist on his way to the cooler to grab a cold soda. You pretend like your heart didn’t just stop inside of your chest.

“I told you, guys,” Eddie has been raving to his band mates (and occasional D&D players) that you, his B.F.F., wasn’t going to ruin practice. That just because you might have a new rack and hips hidden underneath this t-shirt wasn’t going to change any dynamic within the group.

They all agreed about this while staring at your ever growing chest and hips. You cover your chest again, before speaking out of turn.

“Are you ever going to preform these songs?” You ask the group.

Eddie’s plush lips touch the bottle his soda came in. Condensation from the glass dripped across his chin and down his neck to the exposed flesh of his chest.

And, they were so worried about you “developing.” Here you are, eyeballing your best friend like you haven’t ever seen him before. Suddenly, you woke up one morning and you were obsessed with him!

It isn’t like that at all. You didn’t know when you began having feelings for your best friend. Somewhere between living next to each other in the trailer park. Sneaking out after your curfew to splash in Lovers Lake (Eddie’s favorite way to wash off his worries). And, the times you tripped over your own clumsiness when Eddie was the first to rescue you. You might have just fallen into his eyes you stared at them so long. Maybe- maybe that’s when something changed.

No more boys and girls - there are men and women. High school changes us - all of us. There’s science behind it all, you suppose. You took health courses, but no scientific explanation could bring you to figure out how you were completely enamored by your best friend.

Your best friend, who is sweating underneath the heat of the garage. Finding himself without options, he strips his shirt.

“Hold this for me,” he says like there’s no issue. Because there was no issue for him, you’re alone in your feelings. Classic.

“Sure,” you fold his shirt up in your lap, while resisting the urge to inhale his scent like a trained dog trying to find a missing person. Or, like an addict getting their fix for the first time in days.

“And, yes,” Eddie announces, before slamming down a new chord. “Come watch us at the Hideout!”

“Really?!”

“Sure,” Gareth speaks for his friend. “If you want.”

“I’ll come,” you ask, “What time?”

“We’ll start setting up around six in the evening, but we’re not set to play until seven,” Eddie explains to you. “Friday.”

You nod. “I’ll be there!”

“Oh, Eddie!” Gareth grabs his attention. “You gonna bring Roxie?”

Roxie Martin? Now, she’s a hot pair of tits in a mini skirt. Full scarlet lips, Rockin’ Roxie, as some people called her, was a She Devil in human skin. Sinking her teeth into her pray, she poisons them with feminine venom. She doesn’t even have to sing them a tune, for men will follow her into the depths of the vast blue ocean without question.

Some just thought she was a slut in heels, though.

Whatever story floats.

Eddie strums a sour note.

“Dude, I’m just teasing,” his friend snickers.

Eddie scolds his friend, then the group of boys begin to slam on their instruments some more.

You sat there for hours watching Eddie slobber over his guitar. Sweat glistened down across his skin. His fingers striking each chord by heart as he did every night. Touching the strings expertly with the tips of his cherry red fingers. He begun feeling sore towards the end of the night, and the guys agree that it would probably be a good opportunity to turn in for the night.

Practice would resume tomorrow.

And you were forever and eternally frustrated.

-> <-

“Robin,” you slouched over the clear candy bowl labeled ‘Free.’ “I need to be a girl.”

Robin jabs away at the keypad of the store computer that is clearly frozen. While she might be renting out videos to people, Robin’s shit with technology.

That gave her more time to ignore her responsibilities, however, and acknowledges to your moping. With an arched brow, she sucks in her lips and she lets them go with a loud pop.

“You are a girl,” she states the obvious, while appearing to look down at your chest. “Or- so I think.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you stuff more candy into your mouth like a starved squirrel just coming out from hibernation. Squirrels hibernate, don’t they? Whatever.

“What ever could you possibly mean?” She props herself up onto her elbows.

There was a time when you were a child that a mean boy kicked dirt on you at the playground. Swooping in like your knight in shining armor, Eddie came to you to brush the dirt from your clothes and to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Feeling outcasted, Eddie surrounded himself in the weaker kids. The kids that enjoy recess sitting on the brick wall of their school, or close by the door to wait for your teachers to let you back inside.

You read books with him during quiet reading because he didn’t know how to keep the letters from mixing together. Eddie would apologize for his hair being frizzy, and all over the place. You thought he was funny looking like that.

Sometimes you wish you could go back to the good old days where your heart didn’t sing in your chest whenever your childhood best friend was near. You wish the aching in your bones would sooth itself instead of feeling fuzzy every time Eddie greeted you at a whisper from behind. That his strong hand touching you like a doll would become friendly again, and less like you want to shove him against the lockers to kiss his pretty face.

You knew better.

Yet, here you are.

Say it had something to do with what happened yesterday. Roxie’s sexy. You want her sexy. Not her. But, just the sexy. And, whoever was in the bathroom was right. You’re much more than a baggy t-shirt and a pair of denim on your legs. You grew up during the summer, and so what if you want to show off a bit. You earned your assets.

“I can’t tell you,” you put out there for Robin to read. “You’ll blab to Steve, and Steve will tell- doesn’t matter.”

You wait for her to speak, but Robin never does. She blinks at you.

“There’s this boy-,”

“A boy?!” Her voice echoes against the furthest most walls.

You wave your hands. “Robin!”

“Go on!”

“I just - I want to grow up a little.”

The jangle of the front door opening broke their conversation apart. There was nothing elegant about Eddie Munson. He slammed his jacket into the stand of desperately rentable tapes. The display wobbled. Swiveled. And, slammed into the floor. The video tapes splattered.

“Dude!” Robin huffs. “I just put those up!”

Eddie scrambles to rescue the mess. “My bad, Robs. You know? You might not want to put these right in front of the walkway. ‘Could get knocked over - see?”

Robin knew Eddie from class. Smart mouth guy with a lot to say about literature. He held a lot in his head, but once he got to a piece of paper, he could just go.

“The usual, Eddie?”

Oh, and he also rented out the same tape once a week for the past three weeks. It was a Rated R film that had a single one minute scene of a nude woman on top of a man she was suffocating. Not with her boobs- with his belt.

Robin snaps back into reality.

“Eh, looking for something new,” he fixed the display, before joining the girls at the register. “Suggestions?”

Robin slams her palm against the monitor. “Stupid thing is still frozen. Oh! Did you hear your little pal has a crush on a boy?”

“Robin!” You cringe. Turning into the wallpaper sounds really nice right about now. Hell, you’ll fix that computer if it gets Robin off the topic of you.

Anyone, she can blab to anyone, but Eddie. Where was Steve when you needed him? Oh, you are so screwed!

“What? It’s just Eddie!”

Just Eddie - yeah, Robin, that’s the problem.

“A crush? On who?” Eddie scoffs out loud.

Your jaw goes agape. “Are you saying I can’t have a crush on someone?”

“No, I just- you’re one of the guys!”

“She can’t be one of the guys forever,” Robin defends you. Perhaps she saw you twitch. “She’s a girl underneath those stains.”

You brush your dirty t-shirt.

“Robin-,”

“What? Whoever this boy is, he’s shit out of luck if he doesn’t see what we all see,” your friend continues.

Eddie teeters his balance back and forth on each foot.

“I’m going to go look for a movie,” he says.

Robin ignores him shuffling into the isles. “I’m just saying if he doesn’t like you back that is his loss. Right?”

You peak around for any sight of Eddie. His frizzy mane is locked onto a movie in the farthest isle.

“Oh my god,” Robin follows your gaze. “Oh my god! This is big- no, huge- I can’t believe before my eyes your friends to lovers trope-,”

“Robin! Hush!” You whisper at a much louder volume than you anticipate.

Yet, here comes Eddie back to the counter without a film in hand. Robin shoots you a glance that screams that she’s about to burst like a toddler who has to pee, but they can’t get their overalls off.

“Can’t find anything?” Robin intertwined her fingers in front of her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eddie sighs.

The sound that came from Robin’s lips could have been the earth splitting in two, and trying to suck her in or the angels above calling her back to heaven. She’s a bit eccentric.

Oh, God, you think she’s plotting.

“Actually,” she settles. “I have a film back here that we haven’t set out on shelves yet.”

“Is it a romance?” He guesses purely based on the actors gazing longingly on the front cover. “Robin, I don’t do romance.”

“Obviously,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “Anyway, this is a mystery. Hm? You know? Like clues and shit.”

“Clues and shit?”

“Maybe,” you signal ‘no’ to Robin, but she blatantly ignores you, “you two can watch it together. Hm? Solve the mystery, before the show ends? Let me know what you think!”

“Robin-,” Eddie begins, but Robin is already scanning the tape to rent out.

“It’ll be fun!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll see you around six for a movie night like old times?”

You mask your embarrassment. Nodding in a set agreement, Eddie left with the film still eyeing the cover like it had just insulted him.

“How could you do that?” You shame her.

Robin shrugs her shoulders, while dancing behind the counter like a relationship fairy.

“Oh! You’ll need something to wear by then!” She shouts to her coworker. “Steve! I’m not feeling well! Will you be okay for the rest of the day?!”

“Ah ha,” Steve appears like he’s been waiting for permission to enter the conversation. “You’re not leaving me here by myself!”

“What was that? I can’t hear you,” she points to her ear, as she’s setting her jacket over her shoulders. “Ear ache.”

“Robin!”

“Huh? Oh, thank you!” She shuffles herself and you out the front door.

Warm air meets you outside. Although you wished to take off another layer, you felt practically naked as is. Cotton blend shirts were thick in these spring days. The same could be said for your denim jeans.

“Won’t he be mad?” You ask.

Robin snorts. “Steve? No.”

No explanation given - no explanation necessary. Robin and Steve were like a pair of siblings at most times. Although, knowing Steve had a thing for Robin at some point made the analogy much creepier than it should have been.

You drive yourself and Robin back to your home where your family was not. They’re out of town for the whole week doing an anniversary trip. Figuring your of the age to take care of yourself, they’ve left you by yourself with only the responsibility of keeping the home clean.

“What are we looking for?” You sit on your made bed hugging one of your pillows to your chest, while Robin riffles through your closet.

Robin shoves another dress across the hanger to the disapproved pile. Her grunts and sighs are discouraging as is, but rather her blatant disregard that you like some of those clothes is hurting even more. Or, maybe you like those clothes. You haven’t gone shopping in a while.

“Do you own anything that isn’t from Forever 40?” She jokes heartily.

You tilt your head to one side. “I like my clothes.”

“Well, we don’t have time for shopping,” she scans around your room for something. Jostling your clean laundry, your papers across your desk and the drawers under them - she finally lets out an, “Ah, ha!”

You groan. “Are you going to clean your mess?”

Clearly ignoring you, Robin holds up a sharpened pair of scissors like a magic wand. Holding one of your plain shirts in the air, she begins slicing away at every angle.

“Hey!” You protest.

She pauses. “Right, put it on.”

“Rob, that’s my favorite shirt!”

“I’ll buy you another one,” she shoves your head through the hole, and continues sniping at the edges. Fondling your chest, she measures where the top of your breast lies. “Hey! Your the first woman to let me touch their boobs. Congrats!”

You laugh at this. “Robin, as your friend, you can touch my boobs any time you need a fix.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” she jokes back. With one more snip, she steps away from you. “You have any skirts? No, of course you don’t. Jeans will have to do.”

You couldn’t hear Robin’s tangent. In the standing mirror hung on your wall, you saw someone new. Surely, she moves when you move. Her chest bounces while she breathes. That tan from the summer on the beach is touching her skin in a most devilish manor. You hold your chin a bit higher seeing what a few snips from craft scissors will do.

“Makeup!” Robin insists.

Pink rouge presses into your cheekbones. Those cheekbones you earned from your grandmother. That’s always the compliment your mother spoke. And, mascara coated thickly across your eyelashes. Your lashes are rather short, but with that black mascara you were seeing yourself glow with confidence.

Lip gloss that tasted like honey-

“In case you’re kissing any boys tonight,” she clicks the tube together with the wand. “My dear, you’re ready.”

You take a spin in the mirror.

“I hardly recognize myself,” you touch your hair.

Robin slaps your hand away. “Don’t mess that up, before Eddie gets here. Oh! And, look at the time, I should go.”

You’re left by yourself for another hour. Twiddling your thumbs, and checking your makeup by the minute. Eventually, you pop popcorn in the microwave and place the bowl in the center of the coffee table in the living room. You twist the bowl around, so you can’t see the chip on the side from when you dropped the bowl a few years ago.

Tapping your foot against the plush carpet beneath your feet, you travel between worlds where you feel ridiculous for dressing up like this, but you also feel hot.

Denim cuts at your waist, and you begin to doubt wearing jeans instead of pajamas. You never wore jeans after you got home. Eddie will surely know what’s up.

You have no time to change your mind because the doorbell rings through the quiet house. Stillness - as if moving would threaten your life somehow. Then, again, the doorbell sings.

You drag the sweat from your hands onto the back of your jeans. Jeans that you should have changed to shorts. He’ll see right through your ruse!

You settle your nerves with one more glance over in the mirror in your little entryway. When you open the front door, Eddie’s tickling the lavender your mom set out on the front porch last week.

“What? Your shirt go through a lawnmower?” Was the first thing he says.

You knew it.

“Erm-,”

“I brought the movie, and beer,” he held up the movie and a six pack he snaked off of his uncle. “Come on, I’m freezing out here.”

Eddie doesn’t ask where anything is. He’s been here so many times before, birthdays, holidays and any time your mother has just come back from the supermarket with “the good snacks.”

You knew each other for some time, which is probably why he’s never going to see you as someone other than his best friend. Why would you think about that? You had a shot, right?

“I popped popcorn,” you pointed in the living room.

“Sick,” he drops down into your couch. “We can go ahead and start the movie - the guys will be here soon.”

“The guys?” You blurt.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says. “Like old times?”

“Right,” the light in your eye fades, and you just hope Eddie can’t sense the hesitance in your tone.

In the next hour, your quiet date night that had been set up by your overly optimistic friend, swirls in the direction that it is always meant to be. You squish into the couch arm rest, while Gareth battles Eddie over the movie choice. Although, this time the boys came to an agreement that this was not an action movie like Robin promised Eddie earlier.

“Where’s the gore?!” Gareth flings popcorn at the television screen. “Throw her off the ledge!”

“You want to see an innocent woman flung to her death?” You snap at him.

A piece of popcorn drops from Gareth’s mouth, and into his awaiting lap. You didn’t come to raising your tone with the boys unless something truly bothers you. Clearly, by the tightness in your chest, some of the anger spills over the edge. Quite like the woman dangling the man’s waist.

“Never mind,” you stand. “I’m going to make more popcorn.”

Taking the bowl from Eddie, you stow away in the comfort of your kitchen. Before your mother left for her trip, a folded note stacked on the island told you to not bring anyone over. But, if you are going to have boys over, she asks that you use protection. She has a wild imagination if she thinks her daughter has a sex life.

She must have passed this onto you. You toss yourself at someone, who obviously holds no similar feelings as you do. This whole night was a bust. Your eyes itch from the mascara. Your lips bled from when you chewed on them like they’re your last meal. At least the color matches with your lip gloss that you reapplied many times in the bathroom when you need a break from the crowd in your living room. And, you can’t feel your waist anymore. Tingling below the belt - and for all the wrong reasons.

“You okay?” Gareth’s voice startles you.

You spin around, and he’s there standing where the carpet meets the linoleum.

A yell from the living room suggests something mortifying must have happened in the film like the boy finally kissing the girl, or perhaps saying something romantic.

“Yeah,” you blink. “Just- making more popcorn.”

Gareth doesn’t say anything about the popcorn bags sitting on the counter next to him, but the room reads itself. You scamper over to the bag, before ripping the plastic and the bag apart by accident sending kernels across the floor. Gareth meets you at the floor below.

“Shit,” you sniff. “I’ll get the broom.”

“Hey,” he grabs your arm, before you can run off again. “What’s going on?”

You sit next to the mess on the floor letting out a gust of air from your lungs that you’ve been holding onto for dear life.

“It’s stupid,” you tell him.

Gareth moves a piece of your hair from in front of your face. “What?”

You look at him for the first time. Between you two, you didn’t have to say a word he didn’t already know. Because while you’re chasing Eddie, Gareth’s warm heart is following after you. You’re blind to him before.

“Eddie’s not going to like me back, is he?” You whisper at an almost inaudible volume. Dabbing at your eye, you wipe the single tear threatening to break the damn.

Gareth sits next to you with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I think he just hasn’t woken up yet. He does talk about you a lot when your not around.”

“Really?”

“You scare him,” Gareth lets out a breathy laugh. “In a good way. He- he’s never had someone to rely on in his life besides his uncle. And, if what Eddie says is true, you’ll never truly change to please anyone. You’re loyal, and your funny. You’re beyond beautiful. The Goddesses shrivel in your light-.”

Your cheeks heat up.

“Okay, I might have added that last part,” he admits. “But, you never know if you don’t try.”

You reach out for his hand. “Thank you, Gareth.”

He squeezes your hand. “Anytime.”

You say. “And I- I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Erm- you know.”

“I guess I do,” he looks away. “I’ll be fine.”

You toss a popcorn kernel Gareth’s direction hoping to lighten the mood. Gareth snorts and tosses one back.

“We should clean up,” you tell him.

Gareth agrees. “Oh, and - when I said you don’t change, I meant it.”

You pull at your half shirt. “Yeah, I don’t think this is me. Everyone just kept telling me to stop dressing like a boy.”

“Trust me,” Gareth suggests. “You do not look like a boy.”

“Oh, shut up,” you gather yourself on your own two feet. “I don’t know - I kind of like the look, but maybe tone it down a bit?”

“I’ll get the broom,” Gareth says leaving your question unanswered. "Oh, and I promise to keep myself and the guys out of your way the next time Eddie suggests we all have a 'movie night'" at your house."

"You caught onto that?"

"It's a classic move," he sweeps. "I can't say I wasn't going to try it on you some day."

"Well, I'm sorry that it won’t work out between us," you assure him.

"I'll survive," he won’t really look at you now, only at the task at hand. "Besides, I know how great of a guy Eddie is. If you do go out with him, there’s no hard feelings."

Gareth sweeps every last kernel from the floor, then uses the dust pan to scoop them up and finally tosses them into the bin. By the time he's done scoping out every inch of your floor, you're done popping a new bag of popcorn.

The movie night continues without a hitch (aside from the merciless damning of the film coming from each of the boys in your home). Your eye on the one man, who could never look at you the way you do him. But, you don't know that for sure.

Because, as soon as you look away, Eddie's full attention is on you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson preference #angst

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autistichalsin · 2 months

Text

Some of my favorite, understated moments with heartbreaking implications for Halsin

1. Halsin threatening to turn into a mouse in the epilogue if the player brags about his achievements- he's so shy and humble that just being acknowledged for LITERALLY BUILDING A COMMUNE HIMSELF makes him want to hide. A mouse is a very symbolic choice here: not only easy to hide, but also easily overlooked and forgotten. The idea of his accomplishments being acknowledged is so terrifying for him that he wants to turn into an animal no one will notice, instead of his usual strong, large, noticeable bear.

2. "Sometimes, I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt." This isn't the kind of thing that happens after one or two people act like jerks. This is years and years of cruel treatment, of his emotions being demeaned and mocked because of his size. Of people judging him before even meeting him- and forming an entirely wrong view of him. Halsin is a bighearted, tender, sentimental man, yet because he's big... Well, big people don't have feelings, surely. /s

3. "You and I may struggle to go unnoticed in such environs, Karlach[...] Folk of our stature can be a lure for drunkards seeking a brawl, I have found," combined with, "There is a particular discomfort to besting one you know to be weaker than yourself - even when needs must," from a different scene. People have sought him out and fought him because of his size (which had to have been terrifying, especially the first time), and he feels guilty when he takes out someone he knows is weaker, even if they STARTED it. How many times has the poor guy been traveling and then had to defend himself against someone 1/2 his size, making HIM look like the asshole to onlookers, and reinforcing that whole "people think I can't be hurt" thing?

4. "It was always destined to be so, if we prevailed. But the foreknowledge makes it no less bittersweet..." (About the players' paths diverging post brain battle), combined with "I see... After all my years of living, I know all too well that nothing lasts forever. Yet a parting can sting, nonetheless," if the player breaks up with him in the ending. This poor guy was having the time of his life adventuring with the group (and possibly falling in love there) yet never believed it would truly last (because of his abandonment issues). And then to have it confirmed.... he must have felt so awful in that moment, even if he was being dignified about it.

5. "You came for me... thank you. I feared Orin's accursed smile would be the very last sight I beheld," when Halsin is freed from Orin, combined with, "Orin's blades. I hoped my friends would save me..." If he is killed by Orin instead and Speak With the Dead is used on his corpse. The tone of his voice in the first line, especially added to that bit in the second... he never thought the player was coming to save him. He HOPED they would. Not "believed". Hoped. He thought he was going to die there- just like how he was in the Underdark for THREE YEARS and no one came to save him. And if it's confirmed... Yeah. That. (Sidenote: if you ask his corpse if he has any regrets, he says not telling Thaniel and Oliver goodbye, and not getting to see their land flourish. :( My heart. :( )

6. "I... have not had true confidantes for some time. The Shadow Curse robbed me of almost all my peers, and replaced them with the weight of responsibility. Perhaps that caused me to gild undeserving memories of my youth." Halsin was so miserable and stressed being Archdruid that he romanticized his past as a sex slave, viewing it as a safer, even happier alternative. There were actually times when Halsin thought he might rather be a sex slave than continue to be Archdruid. In a sense, for the 100 years the Shadow Curse was around, Halsin was just as much a prisoner as Thaniel was in the Shadowfell, but Halsin's prison had invisible bars. The Shadow Curse took away his entire support system, and being Archdruid forced him to be the strong one, always, never allowed to be weak or scared, forced him to take control of situations when he hated it, forced him to spend his time sorting out people instead of being in nature. And he was MISERABLE. For 100 years.

7. "You understand me almost perfectly. Only my late mother may have bested you." (Said if you get one question wrong at the love dryad test). He misses his mama. :( Especially when you consider that if you steal Balthazar's "Mother Dearest" and taunt him about it, Halsin disapproves (and is the only one to do so), while returning her gets you approval (which only Halsin approves of). And then the line when you look into a mirror while controlling him, "more like my father, with each passing day..." He really misses them. :(

8. "I am loathe to see anyone behind bars. It reminds me of my time as a guest of the goblins." He is, secretly, still quite traumatized from his time in the goblin pens, but he brushes it off. Just like every OTHER time he is hurt.

9. "I am aware [of having a habit of getting captured]. Perhaps I put too much faith in my skills of negotiation, or want to see good where there is none. It would be easy to resort to nature's fury whenever something stood in my way, yet I cannot help but feel I would be sullying the Oak Father's gifts. Naive perhaps... but I still draw breath." Halsin is aware he gets hurt often because of his desire to see good in people until he has no other choice, but refuses to give up anyway (which is backed up by that letter Gut had on her where she reveals Halsin TRIED to help the goblins, saying he could cure them of their tadpoles, only to be thrown in the cage, with Gut threatening to have his stomach cut open and maggots placed inside it.) Further, even though he is an Archdruid, and one of the most devoted, and explicitly has Silvanus's favor (Halsin says that gaining his favor was the only way he was able to open the portal to the Shadowfell), he still constantly worries about using Silvanus's powers, to the point of wondering if an actual threat to his safety actually merits using his powers. Which... combined with some other stuff, reads like one hell of a problem with self-worth.

10. "At least you were not present. Grim as [the ruined battlefield] is now, it was worse on the day of the battle. A vivid wound upon my memory[...] I was lucky - I lived, when so many did not. It would take me a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends I lost" combined with, "I was [present when the Shadow Curse was unleashed]. Part of my spirit was shorn away from me here, and never left," and, if Last Light falls, "All gone... devoured by the shadows. Oak Father preserve us, it's just like a hundred years ago[...] We are [still standing]. Yet there is a burden to being the survivor... the witness to others' tragedies. It only grows heavier with time." He has so much PTSD and survivor guilt from the Shadow Curse. :( No wonder it's all he can think about- to the point that some of the other companions even get annoyed at him for his obsession.

11. "I never quite realised how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove... I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you." Not only does this tie in with the above, with his PTSD from the curse and his utter misery at being Archdruid, but this HEAVILY implies Halsin had depression. Like... that "fog" line hits HARD if you have or have had depression, because that's exactly what it feels like. And the "forgetting who I was" bit too. Not just losing his sense of self to the depression, but to the neverending responsibilities of being Archdruid. I keep repeating myself, but damn, this guy has really and truly spent an entire century being absolutely MISERABLE. :(

12. "Forgive me. I... lost the run of myself. Sometimes, if blood runs hot enough, it's difficult to tame the beast." With that little disgusted groan/sigh, the fury and disgust at himself visible on his face, and the way he rushes to get out the rest of it- he thinks he fucked up so badly that you're about to leave him, maybe forever. And then if you reject him after this? "Ah... I see. Well, of course. Back to camp then." He has the most heartbroken look on his face here, and the way he says "of course" like he just... knew this was coming the instant he accidentally wildshaped. He felt that the first time he let ANY of his imperfections show, the player would leave him. :(

13. "Death is nature's final slumber - it awaits us all. Do not punish yourself over those lost, or give in to despair - not while there are still folk in need of your help." (Said to a Dark Urge if they tell him they're not much of a hero and most people needing them end up dead) Not only is Halsin speaking from experience here, but it's very clear he is STILL doing exactly what he tells Durge not to do, to himself- punishing himself over those who were lost, struggling with devastating survivor guilt.

14. "The grove has cut itself off from the world, to jealously guard its own little pocket of nature. No one shall ever enter or leave again. And I have been evicted from the very place I was charged to safeguard. A telling summary of my time as Archdruid, perhaps..." If the Grove is sealed and you ask him about it later, this is what he says. Interesting that he views being evicted from the place he was in charge of protecting to be a "telling summary." He was forced to take the leadership role there, and yet it was clear he wasn't wanted or respected by a great number of the Druids (exempting Nettie, Rath, and Apikusis). He got a truly thankless job that took damn near EVERYTHING from him emotionally/mentally, causing him to develop depression and causing him to backslide in his previous healing from his trauma from his time as a sex slave, he still gave EVERYTHING to the Grove, and in return...... almost none of his Druids appreciated or even liked him. (I could seriously write at least five metas about how obviously miserable Halsin was at the Grove, despite caring for it deeply).

15. "You could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me." Said at the epilogue to a solo romanced player who went to the commune with him. There's so many layers of heartbreak here. He is still surprised, six months later, that the player chose him. He even thinks the player will regret it, and will decide they want an adventurer's life after all after seeing everyone else. He doesn't think he is good enough- doesn't think he deserves the player, and yet at the same time he loves them so much that he is heartbroken over the possibility they might agree with him. He thinks that given a chance, there is little chance they would actually choose him again. (He is put at ease quickly when the player promises they picked him for a reason, but even the explanation he gives for why he was so worrie is heartbreaking- that he's so used to a tumultuous life that he thinks something must go wrong. He has been so traumatized so many times over the years that he just has almost no ability to think that true happiness is possible [or deserved] for him.) Something about that is just heartbreaking, even though his ending is one of the happiest of any of the companions.

Someone give this sweet bear man a hug, please :(

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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etheries1015 · 6 months

Note

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

#Twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #malleus #malleus x reader #Malleus draconia #Malleus draconia x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfics

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ichorai · 6 months

Text

tourney favor ; aemond targaryen (m).

pairing ; aemond targaryen x wife!reader

synopsis ; it was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. but it wasn’t improper by any means. strange, perhaps, but not improper. you glanced back at aemond. he was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched. was he jealous?

wc ; 2.1k

themes ; smut, mild fluff, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; jealous aemond, unprotected sex, breeding kink and brief mentions of pregnancy/children, wall sex, foul language, mentions of violence/murder

a/n ; if this fic sounds familiar, i took some lines from my far-lengthier aemond fic, balance the scales :)

main masterlist.

A grand tourney was held in honor of Jahaerys and Jahaera’s eighth nameday.

You sat beside Helaena in the high platforms on the elongated arena, hands twisting in your lap. Tourneys usually bored you to no end—watching men hurt themselves over little else than theatrical show and bragging rights was not something you were very keen on. It felt like a waste of time to you, especially because you were already spoken for—you’d much rather be reading, or honing your needlework, or playing with the twins. To your other side was your husband, Aemond, looking equally disinterested in the event. You noticed his long fingers tapping impatiently against his knee, as if he were itching to leave. His older brother Aegon was nowhere to be seen, most likely somewhere in the bowels of the Street of Silk.

You couldn’t help but feel envious. How come the father of the children the realm was celebrating was off gallivanting through the city, probably sunken into his cups and his whores? He was free to fuck whoever and whenever he wanted. Whilst you had to sit for hours on end beside your beloved husband, with whom you wanted to do nothing more than clamber into his lap and kiss him until the two of you grew dizzy.

Perhaps a large part of your agitation was due to the fact that Aemond had sunken to his knees in your chambers only an hour before, his tongue spelling worship over your drenched core. And you’d been so close, ever so close to falling off the edge—

Until there came a knock on the door, and Criston Cole’s muffled voice echoed through the shut door. He had to urgently speak to Aemond before the tourney, apparently.

Something akin to a growl caught in his throat as your husband reluctantly drew away from you. You moaned lowly at the loss, sitting up at the edge of the four-poster bed as you watched him wipe your arousal from his chin.

“We’ll resume this tonight,” he had whispered into your flushed ears, before whisking off to speak to Ser Criston.

Seven fucking hells.

It took several moments for you to compose yourself, before you called in one of your handmaidens to help you dress for the tourney. Redo your hairstyle, too, because Aemond had certainly mussed it beyond salvation.

And now, as you fussed with your fingers in the stands, boredly clapping whenever the crowd was, it only came as an utter surprise when you heard your name called out. You sat up straighter, eyes falling from your hands to the riding grounds down below. It didn’t slip past your notice seeing Aemond tense, his fingers curling into a pale fist over his thigh.

A handsome knight donned in black-and-yellow armor stared up at you. You faintly recalled the patterned sigil emblazoned into the shield he was holding—he was of House Darklyn. He had taken off his helmet momentarily, lodged between his waist and his free arm. Gorgeous dark locks spilled over the nape of his neck, only slightly curled.

The olive green of his eyes gleamed boldly, full lips upturned into a charming smile. “Might I be honored with your favor, my Lady? I can certainly use the luck.”

Your gaze flickered over to his formidable opponent, a strong and muscular man, shrouded in white. His shield bore a red lion. House Reyne.

It was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. But it wasn’t improper by any means. Strange, perhaps, but not improper. You glanced back at Aemond. He was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched.

Was he jealous?

You could feel the muted arousal roar back to life in your lower abdomen.

“Of course, Ser,” you called back with a knowing smile in your husband’s direction. You grabbed a ring of woven flowers and tossed it down over the jousting lance. “Be careful.”

Off the Darklyn knight went with your favor swaying by the lance’s handle, the metal grating of his helmet pulled down over his grinning features. You weren’t even sure what his name was.

The joust began just as you sat back down beside Aemond—but you found yourself barely paying attention to what was unfolding, and rather kept your eyes trained on your husband.

“Rather improper of him to ask for your favor,” he commented snidely, voice lowered so only you could hear. “You’re my wife.”

“Perhaps you should be down there, then,” you replied lightly, offering him a cruel smile. You knew well just how little Aemond cared for all the glamor the tourneys offered. “Show them who I belong to.”

Expression hardening to stone, he suddenly gripped your arm with iron-strength, hauling you up out of your seat, despite your half-hearted protests. You wondered if the Darklyn knight would search for you once the tourney was over. You found yourself unsurprised that you couldn’t care less about him.

Especially not with Aemond leading you down the halls of the Keep, twisting several sharp turns before shoving your chamber’s entrance open. Just as quickly as you were yanked inside, the wooden door slammed shut behind you, and you were promptly shoved up against it.

His lips were angry over yours, claiming you, biting you, devouring you completely. You fell slack in his arms, one of your hands resting over his chest, almost as if you were debating between pushing him away or pulling him closer. He swallowed the noises of contentment that slipped from your throat.

“You just couldn’t wait,” he snarled, shoving you against the door harder until he was pressed flush over your body. Jealous Aemond was certainly a sight to behold. “My greedy little wife.”

You preened at his words, arching your back, desperate to reconnect your lips to his. He didn’t put up a fight, allowing you to fight for dominance, claw at his neck and chest in desperation as you kissed him as if he were the very air you needed to breathe.

Wasting no time, he reached down to yank the bottom of your dress upwards—cursing under his breath at all the damned layers you were wearing—and hurriedly shoved away your shift so he could reach your pulsing cunt.

You were drenched. Warm and wet and fuck, he couldn’t wait a moment longer—

Sensing this, you made quick work of his trousers, yanking them downwards before moving up to pop off his tunic’s buttons. A startled, pleasured cry—verging on a hysterical sob—tore from your lungs and rattled across the chambers when he suddenly thrusted two long fingers into you, his thumb working quick circles over your sensitive clit. You’d already been denied an orgasm once, and you found a litany of breathless pleas erupting from your lips, as if it were just second nature.

“Please, Aemond, please—” You choked on whatever else you had to say, eyes rolling back as your orgasm slammed into you far too soon for your liking. Heavy and all-consuming.

But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, more, you’d always want more of your husband.

“Aemond, please, I need you inside,” you croaked, letting out a sigh when he drew a few tender kisses to your forehead. A glimpse of the softer side of your husband, scarcely shown unless it was with you. You loved him like this, but you wanted—no, you needed—him to lose all abandon with you.

“If you won’t fuck me, I’ll ask the Darklyn knight,” you growled with a serrated tone.

Aemond drew away from you, violet eye ablaze. Was it fury or was it possessiveness written so plainly over his features? Perhaps both. “What did you say?” he whispered, a hand suddenly surging up to grip your jaw.

“I said,” you huffed, staring at him with a challenging quirk of your brows, “I’ll ask another man to fuck me. If my husband won’t do so, that is.”

Silence on Aemond was scarier than anything. You wished he would speak, or scream, or call you filthy names. But no, he… he was observing you. Calculating. Like a cat would a mouse.

Or a dragon would its kill.

With one fluid motion, he drew his length into his hand—long and hard and angrily weeping with beads of pearly precum. The other hand abruptly flipped you around with surprising strength, crowding you against the wall beside the door so your back faced him. You moaned out his name when he pushed your dress up over your hips and dragged his tip over your drenched core.

“Please,” you begged, bracing yourself against the wall and jutting your hips back. If you could hear yourself over the buzzing in your ears, you’d be absolutely mortified at how delirious you sounded.

In one quick motion, he sheathed himself into you. Your warm, pulsating cunt was gripping him like a vice, eliciting a shuddering groan from his lungs. You mirrored his reaction, squeezing your eyes shut and holding onto him for dear life as he began to pound into you with no restraint. The lewd noises ricocheting in the room made your cheeks heat up until your entire face felt like it had been set aflame. With each snap of his hips into yours, you found yourself crying his name like a mantra, his hands bruising over your waist, pulling you back into him.

You were blubbering incoherently, begging for more. You just about lost it when one of his hands disappeared from your waist—only to roll over your aching clit with quick circles. A sob broke past your lips and you clenched hard around his length, feeling every hot inch of him buried deep inside you. His pace staggered with the sudden shift and he groaned out a curse, followed by your name.

“Who did you want to fuck?” he bit out, slightly breathless, words dripping with venom. “What’s his name?”

“I—” You hiccupped a cry with a particularly loud thrust. “Oh, fuck, Aemond!”

“Right,” he hissed, bending forward to bite down on your strained neck. “I’m the only one who can fuck you like this. Not pretty boys in silly costumes—mmph—not daft knights who lose tourneys. Me.”

The last word was ground out when your cunt spasmed around his girth once more, and you wailed out his name as your orgasm rolled over you. It was a wonder nobody had barged in to see if there was someone being murdered.

“Perhaps I’d have to get you all round and swollen with my child. Show them who you belong to. Who fucked you this good. Would you like that, sweet wife?”

“Yes, yes, Aemond, I need—I need you to come inside. Please, I need you to stuff me full.”

You reached behind you to blindly grapple for his arm and he briefly shifted the angle and began pounding into you even harder. His cock hit your sweet spot just right, and you saw stars swimming over your vision.

A near animalistic noise tore through Aemond’s chest when you tightened around him one last time, your warm cunt fluttering around his cock. His rhythm faltered. What drove him over the edge was when he glanced down and saw the thick ring of your creamy arousal at the base of his cock. Gods, you were… beyond perfect.

With a staggered rasp of your name, he thrust into you thrice more before he spilled his seed deep in you, thick spurts of white coating your slick walls.

Heavy pants filled the room. You barely registered his lips kissing along your bare shoulder, where your dress had slipped in the midst of your heated frenzy.

Slow, he eased himself out of you. “You did so well for me,” he murmured against your skin, smoothing his hands over your waist. “Are you alright?”

“Mmh,” you hummed, because no words would come to you at the moment.

He laughed, a wonderfully rich sound, before gently urging you towards the bed.

“Get some rest, wife,” he told you, laying you onto the plush mattress and dipping down to kiss your forehead. He regarded you with raw adoration folded over his expression. Though, it was quick to melt into a thunderous one with his next sentence. “I have a certain knight to exchange words with.”

If you hadn’t been so high off your orgasms and exhausted with the new-found urge to sleep the whole night away, you would’ve realized that Aemond was likely going to commit manslaughter over something as trivial as a tourney favor. But you hadn’t thought about it much, not in your sex-addled haze, and promptly fell asleep with only the dream of silver-haired babes with wonderful purple eyes to accompany you.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd x reader

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cosmic-whispers · 7 months

Text

Control - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel attacks you after being mind controlled by an enemy with daemati powers and struggles to grapple with the guilt that follows.

Warnings: angst, violence, reader being strangled and attacked, mind control

Words: 6.0k

A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, life has been crazy lately and writer’s block doesn’t help. I missed writing and was finally able to get this out. Hope you all enjoy!

Your breath came out in heavy pants and your legs burned as you ran through the thick foliage of the jungle. Eldric, the daemati high fae you and Azriel had been tracking for the last week, turned a sharp corner and you pushed your legs harder, ignoring the burning ache in your thighs. You groaned in frustration after his image disappeared around the corner. He had evaded you again.

You slowed to a stop, knowing the pursuit was pointless. Your shoulders slumped and you ran a hand down your face. The sound of flapping wings filled your ears as Azriel broke through the branches hanging overhead and descended near you. A soft hand landed on your shoulder, the thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles in the fabric of your leathers.

“Should we look for him again?” you asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, disappointment and frustration shining in his hazel eyes.

“We’ll find him again,” Azriel said.

“He’s good,” you said. And he was. He was cunning, fast, and endowed with the same, rare power as your High Lord. He could be standing right in front of you and you would be none the wiser if he was able to break through your mental shields. He was nearly unstoppable. After a failed assassination attempt on Rhysand—where the male had gotten entirely too close—Azriel and you had decided to hunt him down and eliminate the threat.

“We’re better.” You looked at him. Despite his obvious annoyance, he was confident in his words. You smiled softly at him, admiring his unwavering determination.

“Getting cocky?” He smiled at you, his features lightening up, and he winked at you. You laughed, nervous as your cheeks heated up and your heartbeat increased. You looked away, hoping he did not notice just how flustered he made you.

“I enjoy the challenge. Things were getting too easy.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him.

“I have a shadow tracking him. This is his home, we have him cornered. We’ll get him soon.”

Despite his comforting words, the brief thought that you were on Eldric’s playing field crossed your mind. That perhaps he was toying with the both of you. You didn’t dare speak that into existence. You nodded at Azriel and you turned, retreating together through the thick underbrush until Azriel was able to fly the both of you out.

The small inn you were staying at was stationed near the jungle's edge. The flight there was short and you relished being in Azriel’s strong arms as long as possible.

The room was small, the single bed pushed against a wall and a tiny restroom where Azriel’s wings barely fit in off to the side.

“You can freshen up first,” he offered and you smiled, grateful to get the sweat and grime off your skin.

You walk into the dingy, cramped room, grimacing at the tiny tub you had been forced to squeeze into for the past week. You closed the door behind you and your face heated at the lack of a lock. The only thing separating your body from his was one thin piece of wood without a lock. You prayed to the Mother that he could not scent the sudden arousal that flooded you in unrelenting waves, surprised at your own self-control for the past week.

You forced yourself through the aimless bathing, preparing yourself for bed, and trying to distract yourself from the indulgent thoughts of him. You blushed as you slipped the silk nightgown Mor had packed for you over your head, wondering if Azriel had taken notice of the contour of your figure through the thin fabric.

You stepped out of the restroom, eyes immediately finding Azriel’s. His gaze trailed down over your body and you felt every cell in your body ignite. He was silent for a few seconds, causing butterflies to erupt within you.

His eyes met yours once more, intense and unreadable, and heat crept up your neck and face.

“The restroom is free,” you said, needing to break the heavy silence. Your voice was quiet and you hoped he could not hear the quiver when you spoke.

He nodded, gaze still unwavering from you. You stared back until he cleared his throat and made his way into the restroom. You let out a heaving breath, hoping to shake the tense nerves. You distracted your thoughts away from him as much as you could, getting ready and climbing into the bed. The bath water ran muffled through the door and your thoughts wandered. He was naked, with just a wooden door with no lock in between the two of you. You felt your body heating and hoped that sleep would overtake you soon.

The water shut off after some time and he exited the bathroom. He was shirtless, tan skin glistening from the steam of the bath and the hot climate. Your breath caught at the sight of his defined, rippling muscles and the swirls of tattoos adorning his skin. No matter how many times your eyes were blessed by the sight, you found yourself struck dumb every time.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at you with his brow furrowed. “You seem flushed.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you hoped he could not notice the bashfulness that filled you.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired and it’s warmer here than I’m used to. I’ve been away from home for too long”

You quickly faced away from him, laying on your side and moving as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You focused your thoughts on your breathing rather than the male, trying to calm yourself. There was shuffling behind you and you felt the bed dip as he laid down next to you. Your heart was racing and it nearly beat out of your chest as he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, pinning you against him. Your skin felt electric, set alight by the feel of his rough hands and the weight of his arms around you.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he murmured, his gravelly voice close to your ear sending rippling shivers down your spine. He had to be doing it on purpose. He was the most observant person you knew. How could he not realize the effect he had on you?

You gulped and gently cleared your throat. “Good night, Az.”

Neither of you had ever spoken about it. You were the one that was able to pull him from the dark crevices of his mind. And he was the one who was able to comfort you when no one else could. He was your safe place when your walls crumbled around you. You trusted him more than anyone. The lingering tension was always heavy, but your friendship was sacred and you had formed an impenetrable bond you were unwilling to break.

His arm tightened around your middle, pulling you tighter against his warm body. His shadows swirled around your hands, softly tickling your skin and you sighed, content and finally relaxed as his soft breaths lulled you to sleep.

————-

The bright moon shined through the window, illuminating the dark room in a soft, silver light. His thoughts raced through his mind—barely forming before another took its place. Between the feel of you in his arms in that damn nightgown and the elusive daemati, he knew it would be another sleepless night.

Despite the comfort of you safe in his arms, Azriel couldn’t sleep. The taunting, smug smile of the daemati male haunted his mind and he simmered in anger. It shouldn’t be so hard to catch him. It shouldn’t have taken him this long. The male should never have gotten that close to Rhysand in the first place. He should have never let it happen.

He needed to prove himself—to redeem himself. After centuries of honing his skills, Azriel had an appreciation for his powers. He was confident in his ability to serve his court. He was a capable spy, his shadows giving him an edge over most adversaries. But the whispers in his mind would never be fully silent—he would always be that scared little boy, desperate to prove that he was good enough to deserve everything he had.

And after a week of tracking Eldric, he was still nowhere closer to catching him. It felt like he was chasing smoke. It felt like he was failing.

You sighed softly in your sleep, turning in his arms to face him and you snuggled your face into his chest. His eyes turned to you and softened at your peaceful expression. Your presence always calmed him, centered him.

His heart beat wildly in his chest and soared at having you like this. He smiled softly, memorizing the feel of you and your soft breathing in his ears. The past week had been bliss—sleeping with you in his arms and having you so close to him.

Your sweet scent drifted toward him and he reveled in the essence of you—his best friend. He trusted you like no one else; he was able to confide in you with secrets that not even his brothers knew. He found himself falling for you more each day. He knew that friends don’t look at each other like you did. Deep down, he had strong suspicions about who you were to him, but he never dared to think about it too much—too afraid to be wrong and disappointed. It was wishful thinking to believe that you were fated to him.

He sighed, knowing he was too strung up to fall asleep. He gently moved you to your side of the bed, making sure you were comfortably tucked in. His scarred hand tenderly caressed the side of your face, your soft skin feeling delightful against his. He admired your features for a moment, wondering how someone could be so beautiful. He shook the thoughts away, making sure you were safe and snuggled before he stood, slipped into his leathers, and left the room.

The darkened halls of the inn were eerily quiet, the patrons and staff asleep. His siphons cast a light blue light, guiding his way outside. He was too restless and needed to leave, to do something useful instead of lying down and being consumed by his thoughts. He could get some work done.

He made his way through the dense undergrowth, footsteps silent and shadows shrowding him in darkness. They easily guided him closer to where he knew Eldric tended to camp, to where his gray shadow had followed him. He secured his mind shields, building them up, ensuring that the male would not sense him. The moon had shifted in the sky and Azriel estimated he had been walking for nearly an hour when he found the secluded campsite. It was almost impossible to see, his belongings nestled at the entrance of a tunnel in the ground, covered by leaves and branches. He hid in the darkness the massive trees provided, his shadows helping shield any part of him that light would reveal.

It was dark, but Azriel could make out light smoke from a small campfire, and the scent of cooked meat permeated the air. He had been there recently. He watched the entrance to the tunnel intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. Was there another entrance he could use to ambush Eldric? He sent a shadow to investigate and continued his surveillance. He stood silently and immobile for over an hour without even a hint of the damn daemati anywhere near.

The shrouding silence of the night was interrupted by a shrill scream coming from somewhere behind him. His heart leaped into his throat, beating wildly as panic crept up in his chest. He knew that voice.

It was you.

His mind emptied of all thoughts as he took off in the direction he heard you from. Why were you here? He had left you peacefully sleeping in bed. He was panting hard, heart nearly beating out of his chest as pure fear spread through him. His body was sweating and he found it increasingly hard to take a deep breath in as if he was being suffocated.

His legs wouldn’t carry him fast enough and his wings kept getting in his way. He screamed in frustration as he twisted in between a thick gathering of trees. Was he even heading in the right direction? His shadows had been dispersed to search for you, but it was taking too long for them to return to him.

“(Y/N)!” he called out. He knew it was risky and that his position would be revealed if Eldric was anywhere near him. But he was desperate to find you.

“Azriel!”

He bolted to his left, your voice guiding him to you. He reached a small meadow, the lush ground free of trees and sprinkled with vibrant flowers and rock formations. His eyes immediately found you, tied to a tree at the other end of the clearing. Your shoulders shook as tears ran down your face as you looked at him and smiled in relief.

“You found me,” you said softly, teary-eyed and vulnerable.

“Always,” he whispered and rushed to you. His shadows appeared, swarming around him, whispering frantically. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, voices becoming deafening and he ordered them away as he reached you. He kneeled and his hand lifted to where thick rope held your wrists together. As his skin was about to brush against yours, you vanished like mist in his hands. He choked on air, distressed, and confusion filled him as you disappeared from right in front of him.

“It was really too easy.”

Azriel’s blood ran cold and his muscles clenched. He turned, finding himself face-to-face with Eldric. He reeled his shadows close to him, preparing for a fight against the male. Eldric was relaxed, his shoulders slumped slightly and he leaned casually against a tree.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“Seems like I’ve found your weakness, Shadowsinger.”

Rage was a burning, eviscerating fire within him and he snarled at the daemati, like a wild animal. The male laughed, smug and taunting.

“Where is she?”

“I’m not quite sure. I assume asleep at the inn, right where you left her. Or perhaps she’s woken up and decided to follow you into the jungle. Would not be her best idea–but I suppose that’s why you like her so much. You’re both fools.”

“I will kill you if you hurt her. And I’ll make sure it’s slow.” His fists clenched at his side, his nails leaving deep imprints on the palm of his hand. He fought to stay in control and focused.

“Me? Hurt her?” Eldric laughed, acting offended at the accusation. “I think the one you should be worrying about is yourself.”

In a split second, Azriel had the terrorizing realization of what was about to happen. What he might be forced to do. And no training with Rhysand could prepare him against someone who had honed his abilities for centuries and was willing to destroy his mind.

He tried to resist with every ounce of strength in him, but the talons shredded the shields protecting his mind like a knife through butter. A sharp pain exploded in the forefront of his mind and he screamed in agony as it spread across his entire skull. He was barely aware of falling to his knees and his hands clutched his head, pulling tight against the black strands. His mind was being invaded, the parasitic presence tainting his memories and thoughts and he sobbed. His last thought before the darkness set in was of you.

—-------------

One Hour Earlier

You paced the length of the dark room for the hundredth time, it seemed. You were surprised the ground beneath your feet did not catch on fire. You had awoken almost an hour ago, a brief moment of panic and disappointment filling you as you found the space beside you empty. You cursed the innkeeper for not having a bigger room with another bed. Despite relishing in the feeling of being in Azriel’s arms, you had grown accustomed to his presence and comfort and now were having a difficult time sleeping without him.

You realized pretty quickly that the Shadowsinger had probably gone looking for the daemati alone. He had tried numerous times throughout your stay to go out on his own, claiming he was protecting you or not wasting time. Stubborn Illyrian baby. He was going to get himself killed.

You wished you had daemati powers at that moment. You needed to speak with Azriel, see him, and make sure that he was alright before lecturing him about being reckless. He meant well, you knew that. Yet, the frustration settled low in your chest and you wanted to rip your hair out in distress as your mind dwelled on all the negative possibilities.

You knew him better than anyone. You knew he felt defeated and wanted to catch the damn fae. You knew he felt like he needed to redeem himself, like somehow everything that had happened was his fault for failing to protect Rhysand. He failed to realize that he did protect Rhysand. He stopped Eldric before he could get to the High Lord and has been chasing his tail ever since, getting closer and closer to catching him. Your exasperation with the Illyrian grew like a tightening noose, its relentless grip clutching at you. How could he not see how wonderful he was? Why did he feel like he needed to throw himself into these situations without any backup and risk his own life?

You decided to go looking for him, dressing quickly and grabbing a lantern to light your way. You had to make sure that he was safe.

You hardly knew where to begin searching and figured retracing your steps from earlier in the day was a good place to start. You walked through the dense trees, hoping that a predator was not stalking you in the dark of the wilderness. The soft light from the lantern illuminated the space in front of you and you kept your eyes peeled for anything dangerous you might run into.

You traveled for over an hour, each step spiking your anxious heart and you prayed to find him soon. You find yourself in a clearing, dappled with the flickers of moonlight. Small wildflowers littered the ground, their bright summer colors illuminated by the shining moon above you. You took a moment to admire the scenery before your eyes caught on the soft blue shimmering light emanating from Azriel’s siphons. He faced away from you, but you knew that he was aware of your presence. His spine was straight, body tense and unnaturally still.

“Azriel?” Your voice echoed lightly in the silence of the night, the answering chirps from the bugs and grasshoppers deafening.

He turned to you, steps slow and deliberate.

He glowered at you, a predator locking in on its prey, and you stalled. Fear lit up inside of you for a moment and you took a step back, away from him. You had grown accustomed to his gaze being filled with warmth and softness and the sight of his icy glare sent tremors down your back. He didn't seem to recognize you, his large frame completely still and not a wisp of his shadows anywhere near him.

His gaze remained unwavering, pinning you to the spot for a few more moments until he snarled at you.

“You,” he growled, like a feral animal, his voice dark and coarse. Your eyes widened as he began sprinting full speed towards you, thundering footfalls on the ground bringing you back to reality and you gasped as he reached you. You thought back to all the Valkyrie training and the practice sparring you and Azriel would often engage in, hoping against hope that it was enough to keep you alive.

You swerved to the left as he reached you, using your smaller size to avoid the direct impact from Azriel’s body. While Azriel’s brute strength would easily overpower you, you were agile. He regained his footing, swinging at you and you barely managed to block his arm. Shooting pain radiated down your wrist, and you realized that he had never truly used his full strength against you in training. You would not be able to take him. You knew you couldn’t keep up the cat-and-mouse game for much longer. His Illyrian instincts were intact and he was quick on his feet as he charged at you again, and you were able to avert him once more.

He was much closer to you now, and you took a tentative step away from him. From that distance, you could see his features twisted in rage and the dazed, cloudy look in his hazel eyes. The realization rushed over you like ice water. Eldric. He had broken into his mind. Pure ice filled your veins—his mind was being controlled to hurt you. Your heart clenched and you prayed to the Mother and any gods in the universe that his mind was not lost. That there was still hope of getting him back.

His shadows suddenly appeared, and fear filled you for a brief moment until you noticed they swarmed around his face, momentarily blinding him. He wasn’t using them to attack you–they were attacking him. They were helping you.

You took advantage of his momentary distraction, using the lantern you still had in your hand, and swung, the impact of the metal on his skull echoing in your ears and you smelled the hint of metallic blood. He was still standing upright, trying to fight off the blinding shadows. One wrapped around your wrist, trying to pull you away, but you stood your ground. You could not leave him like that.

You swung the lantern again, hoping to knock him out with the impact, but his large, scarred hand flew out and wrapped around your wrist, the tight grip making you whimper in pain as he squeezed harder. You tried to shake him off, aiming a kick toward his groin, but he growled and blindly tackled you to the ground before you were able to get another hit in.

You heard–rather than felt–your head smashing against the hard rock underneath you. Your ears began ringing, the deafening sound and painful pressure building in the back of your head making you delirious and your vision began to blur. You were going to pass out and that realization made you panic.

You knew he was significantly stronger than you, his Illyrian genetics making him near indestructible. You had no hope. You yelled for Rhysand in your head, praying to the Mother that he could hear you from Velaris. Azriel’s large hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing. You looked up at his face–gorgeous, despite the frigid fury that lingered in his features. His empty eyes looked into yours, unseeing and frightening.

The air was trapped inside you, your lungs burning as they begged for air. A stabbing pain spread across your neck as he squeezed harder and tears escaped your eyes. You wanted to beg him to come back to you. You felt your face heat up as the pressure began building further and further in your head. The pulsing pressure intensified and your vision narrowed, a rushing sound filling your ears like a crescendo as darkness greeted you.

———��———

Flickers of light danced across your vision. You felt yourself slowly awaken. There were soft, silk sheets beneath you, the air smelled like the cinnamon buns Elain was so fond of baking, and a soft voice drifted near you, reciting lines from a book you had recently read. You forced yourself to blink your eyes open, the light of the window causing them to ache. You groaned and shut your eyes tight in discomfort.

“(Y/N)!” You squinted your eyes open, thankful for the curtains that had just been drawn. You looked up at Feyre as she approached you and grasped your hand.

“We were so worried!”

“What happened? Where’s Azriel? What about Eldric? How long have I been out?” Your voice was raspy, and it felt like needles scraping against your throat when you spoke. You coughed, the burning intensifying, and a sharp headache began forming. Feyre’s hand supported your back as she helped you sit up on the bed and passed you a drink of water and a vial of medication you assumed Madja had left for you.

The cool liquid felt heavenly against your throat and you sighed in relief as the medication began coursing through you, helping clear your mind of the pain-infused fog.

“Please drink it all,” Feyre said. “You’ve been out for two days.” She took the empty glass from your hand and placed it on the nightstand next to you.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked you carefully. She looked at you, eyes soft and brows creased.

You nodded, Her hand tightened around yours and you swallowed the knot that rose in your throat. “Azriel?” you rasped out, your voice weak and thin.

Tears filled Feyres eyes as she looked at you and your heart raced in your chest as dread filled you.

“Rhys was able to get there in time. Eldric managed to break down Azriel’s mind shields and essentially took control of his mind. His goal was to infiltrate Velaris and go for Rhysand using Azriel. Rhys was able to break the control away from his mind and killed Eldric.”

You stared at her, eyes wide and the blood in your veins had gone cold. You knew damn well the damage that daemati powers could cause. His mind could be obliterated. You quickly shook the thought away, desperate for any indication that was not the case.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s…as fine as he can be. He hasn’t left his room since we returned.” Your heart broke for him–for the selfless, kind male you knew who was being consumed by guilt. You rose from the bed, and Feyre startled, gently forcing you back onto the bed.

“What are you doing? You need to rest,” Feyre said.

“I’ve rested for days. I need to see him.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It might not be safe.”

You looked at her incredulously. How could she ever think that Azriel would hurt you on purpose?

“How can you say that?! You know that if he was in control, he never would have hurt me. He’s not some rabid animal you need to keep away. He’s my best friend and I want to see him. It’s not his fault this happened.” You broke into a coughing fit again and she handed you another glass of water.

“I know that; I do. I just worry about you. At least heal up first. And then we can go see him.” You didn’t miss the fact that she said we.

You sighed, your body exhausted and in pain, and decided to follow along for now. “Fine.”

Madja soon made her way into the room, happy to see you awake and you went through her examination without complaining once despite the haunting thought of Azriel in your mind. You fell asleep early in the afternoon, your body and mind fatigued.

—------------------

You heaved a sigh of relief as you found yourself alone for the first moment since you had awoken. Feyre had stayed by your side, perhaps thinking that you would try to sneak away to see the Azriel. The rest of the Inner Circle trickled in and out until Rhysand had to gently persuade his wife to join him in bed.

As dusk settled and darkness started to take over, you gently rose from the bed. The rest you got during the day did you good, you felt stronger. You opened the door slowly, sneaking your head out to make sure that no one was keeping watch of your room. You quickly walked the length of the hallway, making your way to Azriel’s room.

You stared at the wooden door, feeling anxious and scared of the state in which you would find your friend. You took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door. Silence greeted you and you tried again.

You slowly opened the door and looked inside after there was no answer. The room was pitch black, with no slivers of light making their way through the heavy, dark shadows that surrounded the space. Only a soft blue light emanated from the corner of the room–his siphons. You made your way to him, making your footsteps loud and deliberate, although he probably already knew you were there. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the wall. His shoulders were slumped and wings were pulled taut against his body. He had never looked so defeated.

“Azriel.” You managed nothing more than a small whisper.

He turned his back to you and tears began to blur your vision. He didn’t want to face you. “Why are you here?”

His shoulders slumped and they shook as he took a quivering breath in. His shadows swarmed around him, trying to shield him from you. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

“You shouldn’t be here. If you had any self-preservation, you would leave.”

You shook your head, taking a step closer to him. Your hands longed to reach out to him and comfort him, but you didn’t dare touch him, fearing that he would close himself off more. “I needed to see you. To make sure you’re alright.”

He let out a cynical laugh and you frowned. “I almost killed you, and you want to make sure I’m alright. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You knew he was upset and angry at himself over what happened. You did not doubt in your mind he was trying to push you away. And you’ll be damned if you ever let him do that.

“Azriel, I know that wasn’t you. I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”

He shook his head, still refusing to meet your gaze.

“I don’t want to see you, (Y/N).” The tears escaped your eyes, your heart breaking a million times over.

“Well, too bad. Because I want to see you,” you insisted.

His spine straightened and he turned to you, eyes full of rage and pain, and glistening with unshed tears. There were bags under his eyes, pronounced and dark. He had not been sleeping. “How can you stand to look at me?” he growled at you. “What I did to you–it’s unforgivable. I’m not good for you. I hurt you. Just leave.”

His eyes traveled down your face and stopped at your neck. You heard the breath catch in his throat, and his eyes widened, face growing ashen and he took a step back from you. Shit. You should have checked for bruises and tried to cover them up. Being so preoccupied with thoughts of the Illyrian before you, the thought had not occurred to you.

“Oh, gods,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cover his face in shame. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stepped away from you, silver lining his eyes. You took a tentative step towards him.

“Az, you’re not going to drive me away. You’re my best friend, I’m never going to abandon you. I want to be here for you.”

His eyes blazed as he glared at you and you could almost feel him vibrating in unbridled rage.

“I almost killed you! How can you not understand that?! I almost—“

You cut him off before he had the chance to continue. “You didn’t, though. I’m still here. I know that you weren’t in control. It’s not your fault, Azriel. I could never blame you for what happened.”

He shook his head, dejected. “Why are you here?” His voice was quiet and small, and you had never heard him speak like that.

“You already know,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the tears flowing down your face. He stared at you, silent and stoic. He was waiting for you to take it back. To turn away and leave him. He knew why you were there despite what he had done. It was the same reason he had promised to always protect you. It was the same reason why you were always so comfortable with each other and why it was always so easy for him to let his walls down when he was around you.

“No,” he whispered, eyes unwavering from yours. “I’m not good for you. And I certainly don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t want that.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and slowly walked towards him, closing the distance between the two of you. He didn’t step away, but his eyes followed you, flickering down to the floor in shame when you got too close. Your hand raised, hovering over his face and you paused, giving him the time to pull away if he wanted to. He stayed still and you pressed your palm softly against his cheek and he sighed, closing his eyes.

“You’re not a monster, Az. I know that. You’re a good male—the best kind there is.”

He shook his head and a tear escaped, trailing down his tan cheek and you gently brushed it away.

“The things I’ve done…” He trailed off, unwilling to put his sins into words.

“You’ve done difficult things for your court, but I know that you don’t take any pleasure in it. You do it because it’s what’s best for everyone. To protect the people you love. What happened was not your fault. Someone took control of you—please don’t blame yourself for that.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes slowly moving up and meeting yours. His gaze flickered back to the dark, hand-shaped bruises around your neck. Your fast healing was already starting to fade them. He raised his hand to touch you, but he pulled back quickly. Your other hand grabbed his, intertwining your fingers and you squeezed his hand in comfort. You brought his hand up to your face, pressing a soft kiss against the scarred skin of his knuckles.

He let out a sob, grabbing you and pulling you tight against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame and enveloping you in the scent of mist and cedar. He dug his face into the crook of your neck and his arms tightened around your waist.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, and you hugged him tight, trying to comfort him as he cried.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you whispered, caressing the hair at the nape of his neck.

He shook his head, weeping as he tried to calm his heaving breaths. “Yes, there is. Please.” His voice trembled as he pleaded for your forgiveness and you tightened your arms around him. There was nothing you had to forgive him for, but you knew that he had to hear it. You knew it would help him start to forgive himself.

“I forgive you. I know you would never hurt me.”

“I almost lost you,” he whispered, so low that you almost didn’t hear him. “You’re everything to me. I will never let anything like that happen again, I promise.”

There was something so astoundingly comforting about being held by Azriel, chests pressed together and arms wound around each other. The fact that he let you hold his hand, the feel of his flushed cheeks against your hand. He thought so little of himself and your heart clenched in sorrow for him. You wished he could see himself how you saw him. He brought you peace and relief. He meant more to you than you were ready to admit out loud.

“I know. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you.”

It would take so much for him to be able to forgive himself. There was so much you needed to talk about, but you knew the right moment would come along. Azriel needed your comfort and you needed him in that instant.

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

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minhosimthings · 15 days

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Lucifer|| Prolouge

Synopsis: After you found your husband cheating on you, you found a different kind of comfort in his devilishly handsome colleagues.

Pairings: detective 02z × fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, minors please do not interact, catcalling, mention of alcohol, reader is cheated on by Heeseung, cheating (which I do not condone in real life)

A/N: Prologue for my 02z short series everyone! I abandoned everything else after Enha dropped Memorabilia just to write this BECAUSE I CAN. I will try to put out the oneshots as early as possible and I hope all of you will enjoy it! Au revoir!

Taglist: Open

Series Masterlist

Crystalline tears filled your eyes as you walked under the dark azure sky. Your feet ached, your heart thumped hard against its prison and your mind spun and yet you kept walking. Walking somewhere, you didn't even bother to understand.

Adjusting your skirt, and moving your scarf down to reveal your bloodied lips from having bitten them too much, you tried to recall what had happened today that made you so miserable. Was it the broken coffee machine, or was it the recent murders in the newspaper? Or was it a person? Perhaps it was the latter.

Heeseung.

You loved Lee Heeseung. With all of your soul and all of your heart you loved him all the way through the bright Mays and the chilly Decembers. You loved him in a way only the setting sun could love the ocean, the way its rays danced with the water so gracefully.

And yet you caught him in your own bedroom, strong sinews of muscles handling another girl's lusty bones, as she merged her body with someone you thought belonged to you.

His apologies went deaf to your ears, you spent an hour or so packing up all your things and driving out the house without a second thought. You didn't even realise how much time you spent screaming your head off at him, trying hard to stop your tears from escaping their barrier as you shoved each and every gift he ever gave you into his arms and asked him to burn them to the ground. And yet you didn't know how to cope without them either.

Your mother never taught you how to handle grief without alcohol and your father's blood always seeped through your mouth in words of fire and fury everytime something went wrong. It was no wonder you had found comfort in Heeseung, a man who could handle all of your pain and all of your anger.

You had trusted him with your life, marrying him happily to escape your childhood home and entrusting in him your most beloved secrets, your love and dedication and your virginity as well. You thought that had been enough, staying home whilst Heeseung worked his ass off at the police station to provide you with everything you could ask for and more.

And when he came home, you were his toy, a plaything for him to release his stress on and yet you didn't budge. Why should you? When you were recieving all the pleasure you could ever want and giving all the pleasure back to your husband. Nevertheless, you stared at your empty ring finger now, hands shivering in the cold as you scolded yourself on not wearing mittens. Heeseung used to scold you too.

Lee Heeseung. What would you have done to absolutely irradicate Lee Heeseung?

You had parked your car at the nearby park where you knew it'd be safe, and had gone for a walk. Thoughts rushed to your mind. You had known about Heeseung's affair for some time now, but you wanted to catch him in the act, to prove to the world, to yourself, that your melancholic delusion could be justified. Here you were now, dragging your feet across the cemented pavement, knowing there's only one other place you could go to. The darkness was a bad place for a woman to be, at 10 pm but you didn't give a single fuck about anything as your prosaic body tried to get itself up. You swore you could have heard voices behind you.

"Hey, hey you!" You heard a voice shout behind you, "What's a pretty lady doin' in a place like this?"

You gulped in fear as your feet sped up. Stupid stupid girl, you thought to yourself, should have stayed in the goddamned car!

"Hey you ignorin' me?" The voice shouted again, and you could hear the gruff footsteps which followed you, getting closer by the moment, "Stop fucking runnin' away from me!"

Your heart pumped blood faster as you picked up your skirt and ran, at the fastest speed you could. This wouldn't have happened if Heeseung was here!, you thought, and though a part of your brain tried to scold you about still thinking about him, at the moment all you were focused on was getting somewhere safe.

The man's drunken voice could still be hear by your ears, and his harsh footsteps told you he was running behind you, chasing you as if you were a wild mongrel to be caught and leashed.

Only one place. Only one place you could go now.

Turning swift on your feet, you ran down the wide lane filled with shops on one side and the empty road on the other, being careful not to crash into the glowing streetlights, as your destination came into your visage.

The police station. Where you knew, your last hope would be standing.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Got the Samson case solved yet?" Sunghoon yawned and stretched his limbs above his head, like a prosaic cat, "Man I could do with a drink right now."

"It's 10 pm." Jake checked his pocketwatch, running his hand through his hair as he always did, "What bar is going to be open at this time?"

"Hey, should we steal Jay's stash?" Sunghoon glanced, with mischievous eyes at Jake, who mirrored an equally mischief filled smile back.

"Don't even think about touching my bourbon." A dark haired man, with eyes as black as kohl, walked in, equally black gloves decorating his hands, "Unless you want to be stuck on traffic duty all week."

"Who pissed in your cereal today?" Sunghoon snickered, leaning back in his chair, a crack of his bone could be heard as he lazily stretched, "Let me guess, Heeseung?"

"Is it about his wife again?" Jake groaned, hair tangled in his hand again, "Jay, just leave it man, they'll sort it out."

"Sort it out?" Jay looked at the long haired man with a quizzical look, "What kind of a man cheats on a beautiful woman and brags about it?"

"Most of them." Sunghoon broke out into his drawer, hands reaching for a eloquent wooden pipe, which he lit and transferred to his mouth, sighing out the smoke as he relaxed into his chair, "You're too righteous to understand that, Jongsoeng."

Jay wrinkled his nose, as Sunghoon blew a puff of cigarette smoke into the air. Settling into his own chair, Jay's eyes flickered towards Heeseung's desk, where files lay messily scattered. A solitary photo frame brightened up the lonely atmosphere of the desk. Lee Y/N, Jay thought, his wife, not yours.

"Jay, come on, stop sulking over your little crush," Jake scoffed, his hands busy with a sleek, brownish-yellow bottle in his hand, "Just have a drink and get your mind off it."

"First of all, how did you get into my bourbon cabinet." Jay snatched the glass from Jake's hand, and toyed with it protectively, "Second of all, I can't just get my mind of it. I mean, come on," He extended his glass out to Jake who poured the elysian liquid into Jay's glass, "Who the fuck would have the gall to cheat on such a pretty woman who loves him to bits?"

"Look, you like her right? And don't say no, we all know it Jongsoeng." Sunghoon leaned forward in his chair, "So when she finds out about everything, just offer to take her home and, you know, let her sob into your arms and then take her into your bedroom and-"

"Since when did you start reading romance?" Jake chuckled, pressing a glass of bourbon to his lips.

"Since lover boy here started crushing on..what's her name? Y/N wasn't it?" Sunghoon laughed, taking another piquant drag of his pipe, "I get it, she is really pretty."

'Really pretty' was one way to describe you, Jay thought, smiling into his glass of bourbon. Every inch of you called out to him, beckoned him closer and closer to your poisonous radius. It wasn't that he didn't try to fight it, lusting after another's wife, but it was that he found that hidden sadness in your eyes heartbreaking everytime he looked into them.

"Want to head home, fellas?" Jake briskly sat up straight in his chair, "Or are either of you going to stop at a brothel?"

"Don't have time for that." Sunghoon chuckled darkly, putting out his pipe, "Plus I've got a-"

Bang!

The door of the quite airy police station burst open with a loud bang, and it seemed as if a hurricane in the guise of a panicked woman had swept in, alarming the three detectives. The sudden action caused them to act on their reflexes, pulling out their revolvers faster than their eyes could comprehend the sight in fron them. Jake's eyes seemed to work the quickest.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Jake called out, signalling the other two to lower their weapons. He stepped forward and turned a switch on, which caused the entire room to light up in bright light, contrasting to the soft yellow light that earlier shone from the desk lamps.

Jay's senses had seemed to ding up after the initial shock of the entire thing, as he walked forward with careful steps towards you, as Jake and Sunghoon whispered to each other, making out why you were here. Your eyes took a moment to register the man in front of you.

Jay Park, you thought, a man who was perfection incarnated.

"Y/N," Jay spoke softly, careful not to frighten you, "What are you doing here? Are you alright?" He looked you up and down to check for any disfigurements.

"I-" you spoke, your throat tightening by the moment, "Heeseung—he" you couldn't speak any more as his name uttered out your mouth. Bursting into tears, you buried your face in your hands as you felt your cheeks burn up with embarrassment. You really weren't crying in front of your (ex) husband's colleagues, men who you barely knew, apart from the usual condolences.

You felt warm, strong muscles pull you into their hold. It felt like a cozy cocoon, scented with the fragrance of pine and paper.

"Calm down, doll," Jay whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck, "take a breath for me."

Jay coached you through breathing in and out, which restored some of your consciousness. You had nearly been on the verge of fainting, with how much you had ran.

"Can I—May I sit down for a moment?" You asked, weary of the other two men's eyes watching you, "Please."

"Of course." Jay said, supporting your figure with his sinews as he led you over to his cubicle. You could see the other two hastily clearing out messy piles of papers. The shorter one, you assumed was Jake, from his drooped posture and lion-like hair. The taller one then, had to be Sunghoon, with porcelain skin and an ice cold gaze.

"Did-did you walk all the way from your house?" Jake questioned, offering you a seat, which you gratefully collapsed into.

"No, just the park nearby." You shot him a small smile through your croaky voice, which he returned, "My car's still parked there though. I drove from" you stopped in your words uncertain to say his name, "-from Heeseung's house."

You felt the tension in the room as you said those words. Heeseung's house, you thought, it had been home once. You felt Jay shift his position in the chair next to you, and Sunghoon transfer his weight to one foot, whilst leaning on the desk.

"If you want us to go beat him up, we'll gladly do it." Sunghoon offered, making you chuckle and shake your head.

"No it's fine, I mean she wasn't that pretty anyway, he's bound to lose interest in her some day or the other." You smiled, to no one but yourself. Humour had never been your strong suit.

"Aww man I really wanted to beat him up." Sunghoon feigned defeat, "Asshole deserves it for how much paperwork he gave me."

"That's the only reason you want to beat him up?" You raised a brow at the light skinned man, who raised one back.

"And for betraying a pretty lady of course." He winked at you, making you internally roll your eyes.

"Would-would you like some bourbon?" Jake awkwardly offered you a glass. You could see the embarrassment in his eyes the moment he asked the question, "Or water if you want-"

"I'll take the bourbon." You grabbed the glass from Jake, who, with his shocked eyes poured you a glass, which you downed immediately without flinching in front of the three startled detectives, "Can I have another?"

"Can we have some too?" Sunghoon smirked at you, grabbing his own glass and beckoning Jake to pour him a shot. Jay, admitting defeat, had grabbed a glass too, filled with the bubbly alcohol.

"Well," Sunghoon raised his glass in a toast, "to Heeseung hopefully getting bored of the other woman."

"Peculiar toast, Detective Park." You laughed, "I like it."

The moments that followed still felt like a fever dream to you. You had sat in a building, alone with three handsome men, talking down right shit about your husband, whilst drinking more bourbon than you ever had and although you had already defeated Jake in drinking (almost) half a pint, you still wanted more. This definetly was not on your itinerary for the evening, but did you care at this point? Absolutely not.

"Ugh fuck." You swore under your breath. You probably shouldn't have drank that much, but in all honestly, it would have helped to relieve some of the painful memories of the night.

"Woah steady there." Jay looked at you cautiously as you stirred in your chair. Jake was on the verge of passing out, having even taking his glasses off, while Sunghoon and Jay, who hadn't drank as much, looked as calm as the winds.

"You know what?" You started, not knowing the words coming out of your drunken mouth anymore, "Fuck Lee Heeseung, fuck that man." A sudden maniacal giggle from your mouth seemed to have amused Sunghoon.

"Fuck in what terms, Mrs Lee?" He asked, trying to hide his cunning smirk, whilst ignoring Jay's warning glares.

"Mrs Lee?" You questioned, feeling your senses come back, though you were still tipsy, "Who's Mrs Lee? Not me, no sir-ee." You laughed, "If I had the chance to chop off that asshole's dick right now, I would."

"But you wouldn't allow us to beat him up? Strange." Sunghoon whistled out in his usual cocky tone.

"It's getting late." Jay checked the grand clock in the corner of the room, his eyes wavered over the dried tears on your face, it was alarming to him how much a mere glass of bourbon had managed to get you giggling like a cuckoo, "Y/N I can drop you-"

"I'd rather fuck all of you in one night rather than see that idiot's face again." You chuckled again, this time, saying the sentence with full seriousness. Did you really mean it?, perhaps not, as you would have thought later on. But were you up for having sex with three extremely attractive men who happened to be the best friends of your ex-husband? That, was a definite yes.

"Oh really?" Sunghoon placed his forearms on the desk in front of him, leaning in closer to your face. Jay's hand clutched harder against the edge of the desk. "And what if I say yes to that proposal?"

"What are you implying, Detective Park?" You looked into his dark, devilish eyes, "That you'd have sex with someone pathetic enough to get cheated on?"

"Don't say that, you're not pathetic." Jay's eyes softened as he looked at you, but you merely scoffed, turning your face instead to look at Sunghoon, who was evidently smirking. You caught Jake's widened eyes from the corner of your eye, listening intently.

"How about this-" Sunghoon started, folding his arms, "You get a night of good sex, I get a night of good sex, you and I both get to rub that in Heeseung's face, and then we have breakfast in France."

"Are you married Detective Park?" You quizzed him with an amused face, his offer seemed at the very least, interesting to you.

"Not yet, no. I'm still young aren't I?", Sunghoon's mouth stretched like a cat's into a lazy smile, "Why do you ask? Are you....perhaps intrigued by my offer?"

There was something ironic about that sentence "I'm still young" that struck a chord within you, you were the same age as him and yet you were sitting there talking about your husband.

"Intrigued is one way to put it." You smiled back, hoping you looked anything like a vixen, matching the bastardous fox like energy of Sunghoon's, "But don't you think it's greedy of you, Detective Park? To want me all to yourself?"

"And what do you mean by that, Miss Y/N?" Jake smiled in his boyish manner, "Is Sunghoon here not enough for you?"

"I'm just saying." You held up your hands in mock defence, "wouldn't you both like to get a taste too?"

You glanced at Jay in the corner, who you had expected to be shaking his head in disapproval. But to your utter surprise, he had one of his gloves hands stroking his chin as if in deep thought. His eyes were dark even in the fluorescent light of the room, deep pools of cataclysmic waters floating around in his pupils. He looked vaguely interested.

"So just to recap," Jake started, clearing his throat, such that his Adam's apple was clearly visible, "You want us to bed you, so as to make your ex husband, our colleague and friend, someone's whose wife we definetly should not be sleeping with, jealous?"

"That's the blueprint." You said in a sweet honeyed voice, "How exactly you make him know that I'm not his anymore, you figure that out. If I even so as look at that man's face again, I will jump off a cliff."

"But the question is-" you put on a proud smile, eyes darting from one man to the next, "Who's going first?"

"Shouldn't you decide that sweetheart?" Jay's deep voice came like a rumble through the ground during an earthquake, slightly startling you. He hadn't said anything in the past few minutes, his sudden break of silence alarmed you.

"Alright then." You chuckled, not daring to meet Jay's eyes, you knew you'd melt as soon as you saw them, "How about the person who suggested this?" You turned your face towards a smirking Sunghoon, with his head held high like a peacock's, "Detective Park?"

"Shall I go with the lady's word boys?" Sunghoon asked Jake, who nodded his head, taking his glasses off the desk and outting them on again. The effect it had in him was quite handsome, according to you.

"Should we make a pact then?" Jake asked cheekily, glancing around for a piece of paper, finally picking one up from underneath the mountain of files lying on the wisened wood. Putting it down on the paper, he scribbled something down quickly, showing it off proudly to the others. You let out a laugh when you saw what he wrote.

"'The make Heeseung jealous organisation'?" You laughed, "I can't tell if you're serious or not."

"I'm dead serious." Jake looked at you with glossy eyes, he always was a funny one, you recalled, "Come on everyone, I need signatures."

He's serious about this, you thought, amused at Jake's comedic demeanor. You swiftly pressed the black ink to the paper, leaving off a flashy signature to decorate it. Jay signed off last, with an impeccable font.

Words couldn't have described that very evening. No sentence that could come out of your mouth could have ever even begun to explain to a complete stranger about how you had ended up in Sunghoon's car, driving to his house in silence. Shrugging off the moral doubts in the corner of your brain, you stared out the window into a dewy night.

Relax, you thought to yourself, there wasn't anything wrong with what you were doing.

Was there?

Taglist: Open! Send an ask or comment to be added.

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lyssasdrafts · 1 month

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unrequited love (part 2) — azriel x reader

description: (part 1) azriel realizes you’ve been avoiding him, he confronts you and the mating bond snaps between the both of you.

includes: angst with a happy ending, mating bond, emotional azriel

@cumuluscranium @anuttellaa @cupidojenphrodite @saltedcoffeescotch @tele86 asked to be tagged for pt2 !!

azriel didn’t deserve a mate.

he never once bothered to consider himself as someone who could be loved. he wasn’t beautiful or charismatic like rhysand, he wasn’t strong or resilient like cassian. azriel was the boy who had grown up in isolation. the boy who never once saw the light outside his window. the boy who was left alone in that cold cellar for so many years, who had the scars to show for it. who could ever love someone with a past like that?

azriel knew he wasn’t easy to be around. he saw the way that you shivered when you first met him, the way your gaze always drifted whenever it met his eyes. was he really that intimidating? azriel saw the way you hesitated around him, how nervous you were when he spoke. he felt the way you stared at him whenever you thought he wasn’t watching. for whatever reason, it made his heart beat faster whenever you did that.

you were just one of the many people he’s probably scared. azriel knew he could be quite uninviting towards the people around him . even when he tried to start any conversations, the way the words became dry on his lips and his voice left his throat felt discouraging.

his friends always laughed and talked around him while he reluctantly nodded along and gave small smiles. his family, his friends. azriel sometimes wondered why they stayed with him for long, the centuries they spent as a court blurring together and they still never urged him. they never overstepped his boundaries, perhaps because they didn’t care enough, or perhaps they knew he wouldn’t talk about it. but perhaps that was a good thing. nobody questioned the dark look in his eyes whenever he came back from his missions, rhysand just nodded and told him that he did a good job, moving on to his other high lord responsibilities.

azriel watched as rhysand taught his son how to fly, the way his friend grinned proudly whenever nyx stretched out his tiny wings. he found it within himself to smile at the sight of them too, despite the feeling that something heavy weighed in his heart, something that weighed his every movement.

azriel took a glance at the childhood that he never had, the one that he never will have, he corrected. azriel would never forget the days he’d spent alone, trapped in that dark cellar. he wondered if the light within his eyes that slowly dimmed each moment that passed would ever return. perhaps it was unfair for azriel to wish for someone to make it come back. it was unfair for him to ever wish himself upon anyone.

he was reminded of all this again when cassian had asked you about having a mate, to which you softly answered “no.” at least that made the both of you.

“what about you, azriel?” you asked him. the glint in your eyes, your pretty smile, it took everything within himself to say no to you. he stared at you for a moment before giving his response, as sharply as possible.

“i don’t have a mate,” azriel said coldly. “and i don’t want one.”

you nodded politely in response, the smile suddenly fading from your lips. you glanced at cassian, seeming uneasy. he watched as cassian walked you home, feeling a pang of envy in his chest that you hadn’t trusted him instead. azriel shook off the feeling, perhaps there had just been something wrong with him that day.

and since then, azriel began noticing your quiet absences from his life. he heard the wind carry away your laughter from afar, he witnessed the way you joked and smiled as usual at training. whenever he came around though, it would be dead silent. azriel once met your gaze everyday at training, only for you to start looking at the ground now when speaking to him.

he didn’t know he started envisioning you whenever he closed his eyes, how your words echoed through his mind when he was supposed to be asleep. he didn’t realize how attached he was to your presence, how much he longed for you.

azriel had always known longing. azriel longed to feel comforted, to feel loved. to be touched and held with the intimacy that he only watched his brothers feel with their own mates. but somehow, he only wanted it to be you. it was strange, the way his feelings gravitated towards you.

he needed to confront this, he needed to confront his own attraction towards you and why you had ignored him.

he tried seeking you out after practice, but instead you kept walking away, turning away at the sight of him only for him to find you again in another room alone. azriel leaned against the door frame, blocking your exit so that he could speak with you.

“you’re avoiding me,” azriel said.

your eyes widened in shock at first, you hadn’t realized he would even notice you. your face twists, “i haven’t been. you just don’t seem interested-”

“did i do something wrong?” his voice shifted, his tone softened. azriel looked down on you with his hazel eyes, pleading for something, anything. you gave him a glare before muttering a quick, “no,” and walking towards the door.

he grabbed your wrist, a chill went down his spine. the moment stopped for both of you, simply staring at each other in silence. the realization flashed before him as he looked into your eyes, how they stared up at him in anticipation.

azriel suddenly felt that tug on his heart, the same one that connected him to you. that explained the attraction, the longing, the desire that he felt for you. you were the other half to his broken, fractured heart. the tears stinging in his eyes clouded his vision but he still moved his hand to wipe your own tears off your face.

“you’re my mate,” he whispered to the world. but more importantly, to you.

it suddenly occurs to him that you knew. you knew he was your mate. you had sensed it before he could and tried to ask him. but instead of returning your feelings, azriel had shut you out. you can’t bring yourself to do anything other than repeat his name to yourself.

“azriel,” you say softly before you let yourself fall onto his chest. he wraps his arm around you, his newfound mate, the missing piece of him.

he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, his scared hands still trembling to touch you. it had been his touch that sparked the bond to snap for you. “i’m sorry,” azriel muttered. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

you shake your head at his words, letting him know he shouldn’t apologize for anything. you hug azriel back, breathing in the feeling of having your mate with you.

“you’re not…” he begins, “you’re not afraid of me?” the hesitancy in his voice, a vulnerability that he’s never shown before. azriel wondered about what you would think of him if you knew about his past, his story, the reasons behind the scars on his body and the memories he tried so desperately to forget.

had he really deserved your love? you were so bright and joyful, lighting up any room you walked into. azriel had believed that he would only dull your light, that he would hold you back. he had never intended to reject you, but he would still loathe himself for the time to come for doing so.

you cup his face with your hands before looking into his eyes, “you never scared me, azriel.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfic #acotar angst #night court x reader #night court x you #inner circle x reader #bat boys x reader

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greatstormcat · 8 months

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COD Omegaverse Part 2

Part 1 part 3

Alpha!Ghost x Omega!Soap x Omega!f!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, fluff and smut, double penetration, anal, threesome, angst, past trauma

Gaz looked at you, still smiling to himself as you stared at him in confusion. Who would be interested in you? Why even would they? As far as Omegas went you were not the perfect, dainty little specimen that Alphas craved and fought over. You didn’t cower and submit to stronger figures automatically, you only gave respect where it was due, when it was earned. Up until now you’d never even been with an Alpha, for fear they’d scent out your secret and tell the world. You’d put up strong walls around yourself, for your own protection, avoiding physical intimacy. That was, until you found your Pack with the 141.

the soft kindness in Gaz’s eyes, almost looking like pity now, made you start to wonder if those walls had been built too tall, too thick for your own good.

“I know you’re whole thing about hiding your designation,” he said quietly, “but have you considered you’ve gotten so good at it you’ve started losing who you are? Perhaps you’ve gotten so good at hiding you are missing out on something important?”

“Gaz, I’m scared if I let anyone close I will lose who I am anyway,” you reply.

“You have seen the other Omegas on base, they are in the same boat as you. You’re just as strong as any of them, I’ve even seen you take down Soap in drills. Just think about it, and open your eyes to what’s going on around you for fucks sake.” He grinned as he finished speaking, again hinting that you were oblivious to something everyone else saw.

Ghost was waiting outside the entrance to the Medbay, and looked up as you came outside.

“Wanted to check you were okay and take you back to barracks,” he explained, looking you up and down. “You’re still looking pale, you eaten yet?”

“Yes, I have Lt, just need some sleep now,” you reply, scratching at the raw mark where the IV needle had been taped into your arm. His eyes caught the movement and he took your arm in his hand to inspect the red skin, turning your arm gently side to side. As he did, you spotted that his gloves were rolled back slightly exposing his wrists. It was an odd habit he’d gotten into around you over the last few months and…

The realization hit you like a vengeful god had struck you with a thunderbolt. You suddenly thought of all the times Soap had found an excuse to hug you, put his arm around you, marking you with his scent. Ghost had a habit of being near you during exercises and drills involving other Alphas, always being teamed up with you or sudden switches happening bringing him nearer. Gaz’s words rang in your head, you really had been oblivious to something so clear.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and looked at you, eyebrow raised.

“Problem?” He rumbled.

“No, sir,” you replied but your face betrayed the mix of emotions you felt.

“Well, let’s get you back. You look like crap still,” he told you, and then wrapped his hand gently around your arm to move you along.

“Lieutenant, can I ask you something rather personal,” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied simply, still guiding you along a route he knew that you knew perfectly well.

“You and Soap,” you started but didn’t know how to continue your line of questioning. What did you want to ask? Did you even really want to know the answer?

“You gonna finish the question or am I expected to guess?” He asked with a chuckle, looking down at you. The hand on your arm shifted and slid up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your neck very so slightly.

“Let me try again. I wanted to know if you were serious about what you said back in Price’s office, that you were fine with me going around with your scent on me?” The movement of his thumb was very light, enough that you were able to resist the sensation while still enjoying it.

“Sergeant, you are one of the smartest soldiers I’ve ever worked with,” he began, “but you can miss obvious so easily sometimes.” He didn’t make it sound insulting, like it was just an observation instead so there was no sting in his words. “Soap and I have been interested in you since before we even knew you were an Omega.”

He stopped walking, and you realised you were outside your door now. He stood in front of you, hand slipping from your shoulder to the back of your neck now, his eyes burning into yours.

“We’ve talked and, well, we’d like to court you, if you’d be interested?” There was your answer, and now your Lieutenant was waiting for yours while resting his hand on the back of your neck. There was nowhere to hide now, he knew you and knew you well, his eyes watching your face carefully.

“I’d like that,” you

A few days after your talk with Ghost, Soap caught up to you as you were heading towards the rec room. He approached carrying a paper bag in his hand as he called out to you. When you slowed to greet him, his smile warm and infectious, he held the bag to you unceremoniously.

“What’s this?” You asked, opening the bag and peering inside. You pulled out a soft, thick blanket and it smelled heavily of Soap, as though he had purposely scented it himself before giving it to you. You stared at it in shock and confusion. “It’s a blanket…”

“It’s a courting gift, for your nest,” he said with a confused frown which turned to concern when he saw no sign of understanding on your face. “You have a nest, dontcha?” You swallow back tears, despising the feel of the pain in your chest.

“I’ve never actually nested,” you admit, rubbing the soft material between your fingers and releasing more of the wonderful scent. “If someone found it…” your voice cracked and you stopped speaking, unable to meet Soap’s eyes as you knew there would be pity in them.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “That’s a powerful instinct to ignore. Even I’ve always made sure I have somewhere to go, even when I was hidin’ my designation.” He sighed deeply and leant his head against yours so he could speak as softly as possible. “Be honest with me, are you ashamed of yourself? Of being an Omega?”

The one question you had never wanted to be asked hung in the air before you, and there was nowhere to run from it. You clenched the blanket in your fists, tears burning your eyes worse than any chemical warfare agent you had ever experienced, and nodded once.

The hug Soap enveloped you in was tight and fierce, crushing the air from your lungs with its intensity.

“Right, how about this, I will help you build yerself a nest. Okay?” He looked you squarely in the eyes, palms pressed to the sides of your face. He blinked as a thought struck him and he got up, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind him. “Come on,” he said, as you were pulled down the hallway to the quarters he shared with Ghost. Soap opened the door and pulled you in, shutting it firmly behind you before turning to face you, his expression unreadable.

“This is to show you that I am serious about how I, we, feel about you and that you don’t need to be ashamed. Okay?” He said, resting his forehead against yours. The mixture of scents in the room were a symphony as Soap tugged your hand and led you to the far side of the bed. There, tucked into the corner was a collection of blankets, pillows and clothing. The smell rising from it was a strong mixture of both men and their bond, and it crept into your head teasing and calling to you.

“It’s okay,” he encouraged you, helping you take off your boots and easing you into the collection fabrics. You made sure not to disturb anything as you sat down, and Soap quickly joined you, pulling you down to curl with him against his chest.

The effect was immediate and intense. You relaxed, felt yourself let go of all tension and melted against Soap who held you gently in his arms, stroking your hair. Your eyes drifted shut as your heartbeat slowed, you allowed yourself to nuzzle against Soap, and that was when you felt the vibration in his chest begin low and gentle. It took longer than it should have to realise he was purring as he held you, and the sound drew you further into a state of contentment.

The door opened and you flinched before Soap shushed you, a low chuckle sounding in his chest. You heard an audible inhale of breath as Ghost caught your scent in his private quarters.

“What the fu…” Ghost’s words died in his throat as he moved around the bed and saw Soap and you curled together in the nest. “Johnny, care to explain?” He asked softly, his eyes bouncing between the pair of you as slowly eased himself down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t get too excited, Simon,” Soap chuckled, “just needed to show the lass what she’s been missin’. Ghost watched as you sat up, Soap continuing to lounge propped up on his elbow beside you but resting his hand on your knee.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Although you couldn’t see his face, his tone betrayed what you imagined would be a huge grin beneath his balaclava. You wondered if he would remove it if you accepted their proposal as mates.

You met Ghost’s eyes and gave a shrug.

“He’s going to help me build a nest. I’ve never had one before,” you explain.

“No nest?” Ghost repeated incredulously, his brows furrowing as he looked down at you and he took a deep breath then blew it out slowly as though controlling himself. “How have you ended up living like this? It’s more than just hiding your designation, something happened to you in the past...”

“My dad, he would rant about Omegas a lot when I was little,” you explained. “He said Omegas were attention seekers, whores or worse. When I started to present as one, he lost it and kicked me out,” As much as it hurt you to relive the memory, being able to share it was cathartic, especially whilst Soap cradled you against his chest.

The scent of Ghost’s anger cut through the air, his hands clenched until his knuckles went white and he growled low in his throat.

“Simon,” Soap warned his mate gently, recognising the protective edge of Ghost glinting through his outer calm. Ghost shook his head, running his head over the top of his head. “She knows she doesn’t have to live like that now, it’s okay.”

“I do, it’s okay. I know I’ve been living half a life up to now and you’re both helping. Honestly.”

You carefully got out of Soap’s nest and stood up, feeling content and more sure of yourself than you had in years.

“I should go,” you said with a smile, picking up the bag containing the blanket.

“I’d rather you stayed,” the Alpha said firmly, “but it’s up to you.” You walked to the door. “Wait,” came a firm command which stopped you in your tracks. Ghost stood and walked to you pulling his t-shirt over his head as he went, then held it out to you with a raised eyebrow. “Johnny gave you his gift. This is mine, maybe it can be the start of your first nest.” You hear Soap swear softly, and you accepted the warm fabric. You pressed it to your nose and inhaled, earning a satisfied hum from the Alpha, who nodded with approval.

“Thank you, both of you,”

It took a few days, a trip off base during some down time with Soap’s guidance, but you finally completed construction of your nest. Once you had allowed yourself to start the project you were amazed at how important the task became to you. The placement of each item was carefully scrutinised and adjusted, until you were happy with the outcome. Ghost’s t-shirt was given a prominent position, alongside the blanket Soap had given you at the start of the endeavor.

Eventually you felt comfortable enough that you decided to invite the other Omega to join you.

“You ready for that, hen?” He had replied after you made the offer in a break in training.

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t, would I?” You replied with a grin.

“Fair enough, it’s gonna drive Simon nuts you realize?” he smirked, nodding across at the Lieutenant who was busy across the training ground. “He’s dying to see what you’ve made, and if you’ll ask him to see it.”

“All in good time, you’ve both been patient with me and I can’t be grateful enough for that,” you said. “But between you and me, I promise he will very soon.”

Later that day, you opened the door to your quarters in answer to Soap’s knock. His gorgeous, smiling face greeted you, and you bite your bottom lip to fight the urge to kiss him then and there.

“Come on in,” you smiled, letting him step inside. He looked around happily wandering about the space, stopping only when he saw your nest.

“Looks good, you’ve done well for a first timer,” he said softly, giving you another beaming smile. You lowered yourself down into the comforting softness and beckoned him in with you. Soap moved gently beside you, slipping his arm under you and shifting you so he could spoon up behind you in the warmth of the nest.

This time, when you began to relax, it was you who purred. It was the first time in your life you had felt safe and happy enough to do so, and Soap kissed the back of your neck in response. His own purr started shortly after, and you wondered what Ghost’s response would be to having two mates with him just like this moment.

You felt Soap’s lips on the skin of your neck again, leaving a tingling wetness behind that cooled under his breath, and a rush of arousal coursed through your veins. It bled into your scent almost instantly in your relaxed and unguarded state.

“Soap…” you whispered, hips gently pressing back against his.

“I know, hen. Can smell it on ya,” he whispered against your neck and placed a firmer kiss. He slipped his hand down from your hip to your thigh and squeezed. “Not yet though, love. I promised Si I’d keep my paws to myself for now.”

You sighed with frustration. “I know, it’s probably best while we work out what we are doing. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” you pour playfully.

“Can’t be too careful now,” he agreed and placed another kiss against your neck despite the obvious effect it had on you.”how ‘bout I go and let you rest, rather than get you riled up?”

“Okay, and say goodnight to Ghost for me,” you say as Soap got up, cresting a cold space behind you that you instantly hated. “Actually, let him know I’d like him to come here tomorrow after training. If he wants to, that is.”

Soap grinned even wider than before.

“Aye, he will be here, trust me on that.”

Ghost looked down at the fabrics, eyes taking in the items from Soap and himself with pride, his chest swelling.

“That’s a good nest,” he said with a nod, and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a wad of black fabric. “Just needs one more thing though,” he unfolded the wad to reveal one of his balaclavas.

“Oh, yes that would be nice,” you reached out for it, but he pulled it back.

“No, that one's clean, no scent on it,” he said and reached up and pulled the one he was wearing off his face. He smiled at you, messy blonde hair ruffled by the mask, lips crooked with scars and a nose bent from too many breaks, but warm and beaming at you all the same. Your heart thundered in your chest as you looked at him. “You take this one,” he held out the mask to you, smirking at your shocked response. “The other ones for later when I leave.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say, and cracked a massive smile back at him before gesturing towards the nest.

He squeezed himself into the space with you, thick limbs adjusting with instinctual ease to surround you, protect you like any good Alpha should. Like you Alpha should, the thought came so easily now. His nose pressed against your scent gland and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, your body suddenly falling soft and limp. He felt your reflex, and chuffed against your skin.

“You’re a good Omega,” he said softly, lips just touching against your neck. “You shouldn’t feel you need to hide, be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you sir,” you whisper back.

“I think we can forget that ‘sir’ stuff for now. Simon will do just fine.”

“Thank you, Simon,” you grin. There was an answering growl from him as he heard his name leave your lips, and he kissed at your gland sending another wave of bonelessness through you which this time you managed to resist. He chuckled in response, a deep and wicked sound.

“Yeah, such a good fucking Omega,” he growled and kissed harder at the raise flesh to test you. This time a whimper escaped your throat as you fought the urge to submit, and Ghost pushed his hips against your backside, rubbing his hardening cock against you.

When his tongue ran over the sensitive patch of skin, you moaned openly and he pulled your shoulder back so he could kiss you. His tongue slid against your lips and you opened obediently for him, letting him taste you deeply. You curled your fingers into his hair and tugged, deepening the kiss and urging him on. The smell of arousal suffused the air around you, but he suddenly pulled back.

“Fuck, you’re delicious,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. “We’re not going any further though, just so you know.”

“Yeah, Soap said the same thing yesterday. Something about being careful until I decide what to do.”

“That’s right,” Ghost replied softly. “I don’t want you making a decision in the heat of the moment that you then regret. We want to be your mates, but only if you’ll have us.”

“Well, I accept you both.”

Ghost pulled off his mask the second the door his quarters shut and turned the lock. In a blur of movement he then had you pinned to the wall beside the door, caged with his arms either side of your head and his face close to yours.

“Say it,” he said. Soap had been lounging in his nest and sat bolt upright as he caught the scent rolling off the two of you. When he heard Ghost’s words he got to his feet quickly and moved closer.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked with an eyebrow raised as he looked between Ghost and you.

“Say it. Tell Johnny what you said,” Ghost rumbled, eyes never leaving yours as you chewed the inside of your mouth trying to hide your smile.

“I said that I accept you both,” you replied firmly. Ghost’s mouth crashed against yours in an almost violent kiss, his hands pulling at your clothes desperately. Soap swore under his breath and began to strip as well, knowing full well what would happen now.

The three of you tumble onto the bed, you pulled Soap towards you to kiss him as well, as Ghost kicked away the remaining items of clothing. For a moment he stood and admired the two Omegas in his bed, his Omegas, as Soap kissed you with equal ferocity to his current mate.

You felt Ghost’s hands skate along the inside of your bare thighs and glanced down, but Soap pulled your attention back to him by nipping your bottom lip. You tried to cry out when Ghost’s tongue pressed against your slit but Soap swallowed the sound with his persistent and demanding mouth.

Ghost’s tongue worked up and down your slit, drawing out your slick with each pass until you were moaning and writhing with the need for more.

This was nothing like before, they were taking their time with you, there was no burning pain this time, just the pleasure of the three of you being together because you chose to be. This was happening because you wanted it to.

Soap kissed along your jaw, neck and then collarbone before running his tongue across the swell of your breast. As Ghost began to tease your clit with his tongue, Soap flicked at your nipple with his tongue. The dual sensations caused you to shudder with pleasure, eager to see where this would lead.

With a rumbling moan Ghost pressed his mouth against your pussy and licked deep into you, pushing as far inside as he could go, causing your back to arch up off the bed.

“Oh fuck!” You gasped out as you felt his tongue moving in and out of you, his hands gripped your thighs to keep them spread open for him.

Soap watched with a lax mouth, mesmerized by the sight before him, his hard cock straining with need. You reached out and wrapped your fingers around Soap’s length and began to pump it, drawing a guttural moan from deep in his chest and his head fell back on his shoulders in ecstasy. You felt the huff of air leaving Ghost’s lungs as he watched you and Soap, but his tongue never stilled. As Ghost pushed you closer to orgasm, your hand worked Soap feverishly, your combined moans music to his ears and precum dribbled along the hard shaft of Soap’s cock.

Without warning Ghost sat back on his heels, chin and mouth coated with your slick as he watched Soap tremble, nearing orgasm at your ministrations.

“Johnny, I want you here, now,” Ghost ordered, pulling the Omega to position himself between your shaking thighs, and then pressing between his shoulders so he was on top of you. “You can come after when she does, not before.”

Soap lined his leaking cock up with your entrance and pressed in, hissing at the tight heat as it surrounded him, and you moaned wantonly as he began to thrust into you slowly taking you closer to your orgasm. There was movement on the bed, and Soap suddenly stilled and shuddered.

“Fuck… Si, what are you… ah!” You felt Soap’s cock twitching inside you, and you realised that Ghost was behind him sinking his cock into the other Omega’s slicked hole. When Ghost thrust into him, you felt the force through Soap’s cock and gasped.

“Remember Johnny, not before she cums,” Ghost growled and began thrusting. You were already teetering on the brink of orgasm, but the sight and feel of Ghost fucking Soap into you pushed you quickly over the edge and you orgasmed hard clutching onto Soap’s shoulders. Your inner walls clenched onto Soap’s straining length as Ghost pounded into him, and he followed you over the edge quickly, gasping and whimpering with the sensations.

Soap carefully moved off of you, kissing you tenderly, and you felt Ghost move himself into position. His cock glistened with Soap’s slick as he teased it against your sensitive flesh until you rolled your hips, chasing the blunt head as he collected Soap’s seed as it leaked from you.

With one smooth thrust Ghost pushed into you, the ripples of your first orgasm merging into a new wave of pleasure, building towards another quickly. Ghost leant down to you, his breathe coming in harsh pants until he latched onto the side over your neck, drinking in your scent and you felt his knot growing and catching. The pressure when it finally caught made you cum again.

As you orgasmed again Ghost sank his fangs into your gland, marking you as his mate, and you fell completely limp in his arms as he came, painting you inner walls with his cum. The mark throbbed, but in a wonderful way, and Ghost lay you carefully on the bed, your back against Soap. Both men, your mates, pressed themselves against you, damp with sweat and scents mingling into one beautiful bonding scent, along with the combined purrs of both Ghost’s Omegas.

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alien-magnolia · 1 month

Text

I Need Someone Older

Fic description: Dean finds you on a hunt and takes you along to get you safely out of danger, fun ensues :) as the two of you feel an inevitable pull of attraction towards each other.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: AGE GAP! Hyper-feminine reader in early 20’s, Dean in late 40’s, daddy issues <3, dom-coded dean, sub-coded reader, bj, breeding kink!, extremely subby-coded reader, helplessness, praise!!!

Word count: 3.1k

Don’t like, don’t read!!

May 5, 2007

7:40 pm

Your white knee high socks were getting a little dusty from the dirt on the woodsy soil. You came out here to write your poetry, desiring a place for peaceful solitude, and perhaps some creative inspiration. You dusted off your skirt as you sat down on the moist bed of grass. The waning moon was a bit yellow tonight, yet you thought nothing off it. You began to write a few words in your floral notebook, with some neat handwriting and a gel pen.

All of a sudden, you hear a wail in the distance. The wind is cold. A few leaves rustle out a few feet away from you, causing you to stare into the dark pathway on your left, in which many trees loitered. You felt as if you were being watched. You continue with your writing, until again you hear a rustle, this time, a bit closer than before. A chill goes down your spine, and you slowly turn to see a pair of yellow eyes, a figure with long, sharp, claws, and a tall, curved, spiny, skinny, body, with a tail. It snarls, coming closer to you. You drop your notebook, and crawl backwards, the dirt making indents on your palms. You hear a few male voices, and see boots running to attack the creature.

You see a flame, the creature is light ablaze, and you pass out from fear. The last thing you remember is strong arms lifting you up, the smell of beer and cherry pie clouds your nostrils.

You wake up in the wood again, this time, the brighr and warm morning light shines down on your skin, littered with cuts and bruises. You seemed to have lost your favorite lipgloss in the process.

“Where am I? My head…,” you whine, seeing a handsome man next to you, bandaging your cuts and cleaning them. That cheered you up a bit. You wince as his calloused hands rub alcohol on your wound, and you meet his eyes. He had green eyes, dark hair, wore a flannel and jeans and had the most amazing body <3 he looked just, so big, compared to you!

You ask him his name and what happened. “The name’s Dean, sweetheart. My brother and I were in these woods looking for a wendigo. We sure as hell did find one.” You nod, still reeling from the attack last night. “Did that… person, thing, do that to me?,” you ask, eyes wide, a bit nervous. “It’s no person, honey,” he chuckles darkly. “Hate to break it to you, but monsters are real. The whole gang. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, demons, all other things that go bump in the night. All are real.” You sit in shock as he continues to fix your wounds. You notice how good his calloused (gunpowder covered) fingers feel on your calves. You wince as he brushes over a wound, jerking your leg back.

“Too rough?,” he asks, a large hand resting on your thigh. You nod. “S’alright. I’ll be more gentle, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, feeling satisfied as the older man returns your smile.

“Hey. Might’ve caught trail of another wendigo up ahead. We should get going,” another man dressed in similar fashion walks up ahead, talking to Dean, taking a glance at you. “What's the hold up, Dean?,” he asks.

“Shut it, Sammy. Can’t you see I’m doing something here? Found her at the site where the thing was. Had to fix her up.” Sam nods, as Dean tells him your name. The two then agree to further go hunt for the second wendigo. “What about her? We’re deep in the woods now, sure as hell she ain’t going to go back on her own, Sammy.” “Fine. Take her with you, as long as she doesn’t cause a problem.”

So it was. You were now going to hunt for the wendigo with the Winchester brothers. The dirt and thick jagged branches sometimes were too much for your legs to handle, so you held onto Dean for some of the walk. He didnt seem to mind, and only smirked as you accidentally leaned too much into him, your soft chest grazing his wide and big arms.

“Stay here, stay put. Don’t go anywhere,” Dean commands you, and you do as said, wait as the boys go into the dark cave. An hour later — there was fire, shrieking, and the boys come out unscathed. The last wendigo has been killed, and the three of you make your way back to “baby,” which you later learned was Dean’s nickname for his ‘67 Impala.

Dean drove with Sam in the front, you in the back seat. You dozed in and out of consciousness as the engine lulled you toward the heavy tug of sleep, you overheard the two men speaking about you.

“Well, Dean she has no ID on her so it’s better off that we take her to the local sheriff’s station. We know Jody, she might be able to help,” Sam inquired. “Yeah, well Sammy, you know what, Jody’s probably just going to tell her to go back to the woods or some shit. Maybe she’s far from home. Maybe she was hiding. Who the hell knows? Bet she’d tell us first before talking to law enforcement,” Dean countered.

“Why is it always you and women, Dean? She’s so young too. Maybe a little too young for you?”

“Shut it, Sammy. Respect her. She probably has her reasons. She’s real pretty and I’ll get what I want, eventually,” Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

You drifted back into sleep but squeezed your thighs together at the thought of the older man using you and getting what “he wants.”

You were more than happy to give it to him.

You were in a dingy 1970’s era hotel room, with dark brown shag carpet, rickety beds with neon orange polyester sheets, and a single lamp in the corner, flickering on occasion. No tv, but a rotary phone and radio. Sam was on a chunky laptop that whined and whistled due to all the power his research into Wendigos was taking up. You believed he was on a library forum of some sort. You sat on the bed, dwindling with the phone cord. The low buzz of the fan was heard from the corner.

Dean comes up to you. “Heya, kid. I’m gonna go get some grub. Wanna come with?,” he asks, offering you a hand to help you up from the bed. You nod, smiling, and taking his hand. Dean opted to go to a local bar to get some takeout. He ordered a large burger, large pilsner beer, and a cherry pie. You got some chicken and French fries, sharing some pie with him. You tell him that you were in the woods to write poetry, you got lost and then time seemed to go. Your cell was dead too. He told you about his ‘job’ with his brother Sam, choosing to follow his dad John Winchester’s legacy of hunting down things that go bump in the night. He made you laugh, asking you about your writing, your college education, a life that someone like him never had.

“We’re so different, you and I, know that? Seriously. I mean, college? In my dreams. Wondering what that’s like,” he said to you, while taking a sip of his beer.

“What can I say. I want a decent life for myself, sometimes. I have a pull towards the arts. Literature, actually. Sometimes though, I just want to be on my own. Without the pressures of society, on the road, like you two. Bet you don’t have any deadlines to meet,” you jokingly admit to Dean.

He chuckles, but then nods, a more serious expression growing on his face now, taking another sip of his beer. “Life sucks, kid. Sucks for me and Sammy, we’re out on the road, might die the next day. Never know what the fuck’s chasing after us,” he has a bit of a solemn expression, taking another sip of his beer.

You nodded, understanding him, seeing through the “tough guy” facade that he’s put up. He was scared. He needed someone to comfort him, to support him. His brother was his partner, yet that wasn’t the partner he was looking for.

You reach over to put your dainty hand on his large one. “Thanks for dinner, really. We should save some for Sam, though, I think,” you giggle, watching a grown man blush over your gentle touch. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Anytime…,” he trails off, his blush seemed to get stronger and he was avoiding eye contact a bit.

“You okay?,” you ask, meeting his eyes, feeling something start to heat up between the two of you, the air suddenly was heavy. “You’re just, well, pretty, kid. Seriously. Real fuckin’ nice, sweets,” he chuckles, his large fingers coming to intertwine with yours. You almost faint under the pressure of his hand on yours, your eyes drift to his muscular and wide frame, his tattered Jean jacket, his necklace on a black piece of string, his chiseled jawline. As funny as he was, you knew that you had an undeniable attraction towards him.

He saved you from the wendigo, but you let him. You let him take you back to the motel with Sam. You let him have you stay with them. Now. You’d let him have your body. All of it.

“Maybe we can go into those woods again? I can show you some poems?,” you reel, watching the older man’s eyes light up with a burning flame. “Sure, thing, kid. I’ll take you up there in ‘baby.’

With a few stares and leers from the other inhabitants of the shady bar, Dean leads you by the waist out the door, and into his impala, opening the door for you, of course.

“Ladies first,” he bows down a bit as he holds the shabby car door open for you. You take his helping hand and slide into the shotgun (front) seat. He quickly runs over to the driver’s side, a toothpick in his mouth as he climbs in, adjusting the jagged rearview mirror. You struggled to buckle up in the old model of a car, so Dean helped out, buckling it for you. You liked the many things he seemed to do for you. His care. His help.

He pulls out of the diner driveway, one of his ringed hands on the wheel, another tracing gentle patterns all over your thigh. You adjust your socks as his patterns make you heat up — inside and out. “I know a place. You down? If not I’m fine with it, sweet thing. No pressure, s’all,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if speaking to a child. You blush. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll show you my poems. I’ll show you something else too, I think you’ll like it,” you cover your smile as you let out a few small giggles. He smirks back at you.

“Oh I’ll like it, alright. God damn,” he stifles, his strong, calloused fingers gripping a bit harder on your soft thigh. The rest of the drive was tense, just how you liked it. Soft rock — ‘Blue Oyster Cult’s’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” played in the background, and it would usually lull you to sleep. Not tonight. Your heart raced, stealing glances at the man next to you. The man about to take your virginity, what concept you or society made of it. You hoped he didn’t mind.

The impala pulled into a motel parking lot: the same one where you left from. “Dean. Your brother..won’t he..?, you ask, and he quickly interrupts. “Well just be in a different room, is all. Sammy wouldn’t care anyway, as much as I’d like him to. He takes your hand again, leading you to Room 22, on the second floor. Your fingers trace the grimy balcony railing as you head up there.

The door shuts. You smile at him, then look down at your feet. “Can I, um. Kiss you, Dean?,” you ask, shy and sweet, a delicious pie on the shelf, a cherry blossom that smells and tastes so sweet, intoxicating the older man closer and closer to you. “F’course. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You nod. “Let me take the lead, yeah, sweet thing. I’ll be gentle. Scout’s honor,” he smiles, holding up two fingers. You nod, wrapping your small arms around his broad chest. Your soft chest pressed against his, you feel the cool metal of his pentagram necklace press against your warm, beating heart.

His large arms trail down to squeeze your waist a bit, and then rub circles down below, your waist and hips. He gave them a tight squeeze, you gasped at his strength. His fingers continued ministrations on your waist, hips, thighs, and the two of your lips danced in a slow and sensual rhythm. You could taste the beer and cherry pie on him, and you ran your fingers through his coarse hair.

His thumb rubs your cheek a bit, and he picks you up in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down under him. His face above you, his brown eyes in awe taking in your sweet skin, putting him in a trance. His calloused hands run down your arms, your belly, gentle, soft, and slow. He grabs your chin, pulling your face towards his, and meets you for a chaste kiss, slow, you felt the stubble on his cheek and smiled into his lips.

His hand runs through your hair, over your cheek, this thumb caressing your face a bit. You keep the kiss going, you feel him getting rougher, hungrier for you. Your hands touch his broad chest, trailing on the hem of his shirt, which you take off. His chest was bare, just with a tiny bit of hair, and a very prominent happy trail <3 of which you run your fingers through.

His hands lead your hips up against the wall, tracing patterns on your back. Your lips are hungry for each others, you push your chest into his. “Fuck, sweet thing. Gonna drive me up the wall here, Jesus,” his voice now an octave deeper, raspier, breathless. His cherry pink swollen lips meet yours again, you feel his aftershave on your face. Your thighs rub against his growing bulge, positioning your legs so his thickening tent on his jeans was pressed up snug, right into your growing wetness in between your legs.

“Dean…want it,” you moan out, your delicate, manicured fingers tracing the toughness of his stubble. “Want what, huh? Gotta ask nicely, don’t keep me guessing, honey,” he smirks, a condescending expression appearing on his handsome face.

“I-uh, your, uh, oh, fuck,” you breathlessly whimper out, as his rough, calloused fingers gently slide down between your legs, rubbing your soft, warm folds, through your pretty and pink lace.

“Let me see what you got down there, hmm?,” he smirks, knowing that he has you completely wrapped around his finger. You nod, his hand cups your cheek for another kiss. He slides off your skirt, your knee highs, your Lacey top. You work on his jeans, until he stops you, with a look — meaning that he can take care of it.

All clothes gone — your legs intertwine, he presses his leaking bulge into your folds, you could practically feel how you clenched around nothing!!

“Dean…,” you beg again. “What’s wrong, huh? What’re you beggin’ for, seeet thing. Gotta give me words,” he says, all the while his thick fingers continue to work you open — get you ready for him.

A soft smile is on his face as his fingers become ever so gentle, continuing a circular pattern, pausing to tightly cup and squeeze your pulsing mound.

“Want. Want your, ha — your cock, Dean. Please. Please!,” you squeal out, just as he cups and massages your mound once more. “Why didn’t you say so, at first, sweet thing? Here I was thinkin’ you only wanted my fingers,” he chuckles, smile full of adoration — seeing you in a close to ruined state. His fingers pull out with a squelch.

You whine at the loss, your cunt throbbing, pulsing, desperate to be filled!! He smiles, hands on your hips. “Bend over f’me, baby.” You do as said, his smile and yours widen as his two hands cup your ass, giving it a hard smack.

His hands trace up and down your back, your waist, until you feel his soft tip press at your entrance. You turn around to view what you’ve been waiting for. He’s big. Short, yet thick. Oh so thick. You weren’t sure if he’d fit. A large vein ran down his left side. Fuck — how you wanted that in your mouth.

His hand gently guides your face back down into the table which you were bent over. “Down, baby. You’ll get a chance later, yeah?,” he soothes you. You nod. You feel his throbbing tip at your mound, as he slides in — you feel the stretch, just for a bit, and then he starts to push in, you felt so full !!

“Fuck— ah, Dean, too much, too much,” you squeal out, as he slides in, and starts to move, thrust, slow, gentle at first, and then deep, fast, his thick balls slapping against your mound. You saw stars, felt pressure as he kept going, faster, rutting into you, his hairy chest pressing into your back. The man had put you in a mating press. You wouldn’t mind. With how it’s going with him — you’d take his seed. Anything for the man that saved you from the Wendigo.

Your eyes roll back into your head, his grip on your hips was like a vice. The two of you finish with screams. He groans. “Fuck, sweet thing. You take it like a champ, yeah?” You nod giddily, anything for his praise and approval. “How’s about we stay in this room tonight? I’ll getchu’ a beer.” You nod. “That’s my good girl. Stay put.” With that, your mound is even more wet, you’re left clenching, covered in his cum as he leaves to get you snacks.

He comes back, presses a nice kiss to your forehead, and makes the two of you some dinner. You wondered what this will lead to.

Author’s note: pls support your creators <3 if you love this fic pls comment or reblog! Greatly appreciated <3 xoxo - Liz

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤#supernatural smut #Dean Winchester smut #dean x reader #dean winchester hot #winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dom!dean winchester #hyperfeminine!reader

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hugsandharrystyles · 2 months

Text

The Chase

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY: Harry is obsessed with you (or your pussy).

Harry Styles would not stop following you.

You both had hooked up at a frat party two weeks ago in a dingy bathroom, and ever since, he's been searching for you everywhere.

Somehow, he's outside of all your classes, waiting for you so that he could try and woo you. His persuasions were overlooked because you were not in the mood for anything any college frat boy was trying to pull.

You had only come to this party because your friend had dragged you along with the promise of alcohol.

You seriously needed to get wasted and perhaps make out with a cute boy, but it was proving hard to do because of the chase you were involved in. As soon as you had walked in the door, you were on the run from Harry.

Right now, you were in the crowded kitchen, the room was glowing red from the solo cups taped on the lights, and it was definitely setting the mood for the horny college students.

You were filling your cup when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist in a secure hold.

"Baby, please," You heard begging in your ear, and then his crotch was grinding into your ass.

"Harry-" You begin, but you were cut off by the rolling of his hips again. "You realize how pathetic you are?" You said while laughing. He whined in your ear and squeezed you harder.

"Stop running from me," He counters. "Just come with me outside for bit, hm?" He asks.

"Harry-"

"Please," He begs.

"Fine," You huff and grab his hand to start walking outside. Harry has a shy, yet smug smile on his face as you drag him out of the house. People look and furrow their eyebrows at the two of you, but Harry does not care. He's whipped, and he knows it.

"Over here," He says and points to a lounge chair close to the bonfire. There's a decent amount of people around but not nearly as bad as inside. He sits down first and drags you to sit on his lap.

"Harry- Jesus," You sigh and adjust yourself. He buries his face in your neck and inhales you in.

"I've missed you," He breathes.

"Harry, we had one mediocre hook-up in a trashy frat bathroom," You remind him.

"Mediocre?!" That had gotten his attention. He adjusts you to where he can see your face better. "That was the best sex of my life," He tells you.

"Well, that's sad," You inform him, and he has to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"What in the hell are you talking about? I made you cum," He reminds you, but your face sours. "Didn't I?" You shake your head and suppress the smile that wants to appear on your face from this boy getting humbled. "But- But you told me you came," He questions you.

"Yeah, so I could get out of there," You couldn't hold back the small chuckle that escapes you that time. "Harry, don't get me wrong, you aren't bad and definitely are the biggest I've ever been with, but maybe you need to work on your stamina," You explain and run your fingers through his hair because of his pitiful face.

"Well, it's not my fault you have this magical pussy!" He says a bit too loud. Some people look over with incredulous looks on their faces, and you punch his shoulder. "Couldn't help it when you're so wet, tight, and fucking warm- Oh, God," He groans as if remembering. His nose is back in your neck and arms around your body, squeezing once again. "Smell so good and so soft too," He says as he squeezes the extra plush on your body, something you're usually insecure about but feel super confident with the way this boy is drooling for you.

"You've gone mad," You resort to.

"I don't care," He rebuts. You roll your eyes and pat his back.

"Ay, Styles! Look at you fuckin' whipped," You hear one of his annoying frat brothers call out to the two of you.

"And fucking what about it?" He snaps back, and you see the arrogant meathead cower down in his seat.

"Harry, maybe we should-"

"Go to my room, so I can actually take care of you?" He offers.

"I'll give you one more shot," You sigh, and his head perks up like he didn't expect you to say that.

"Actually?" He says and is about to jump to his feet.

"My clock is ticking," You sigh, and suddenly, you're being thrown over his shoulder, and he's running into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Hoots, hollers, and whistles are thrown to both of you, but neither of you are paying attention to it. You're immediately thrown on the bed when you get into his room. Harry had locked the door, so no one will be interrupting the two of you.

"I'm going to eat you out," he says breathlessly. "Should punish me for how rude I was to you last time. Didn't eat you out or make you cum- fuck, I'm sorry," He pants and rips your skirt and shoes off your body. His mouth is about to press against your puffy pussy through your underwear when you stop him.

"Wait," you say and hold his hair to stop him.

"What?" He whines and dramatically drops his face into the bed.

"You're right," you tell him and yank on his hair to get his attention.

"About what, baby?" He whines in impatience.

"You should be punished," You agree and sit up, pulling your body away from him. His jaw drops and his face is like you've just stabbed him.

"Are you- are you serious?" He asks and starts to inch his way closer to you.

"I mean, you're the one who said it. I'll be nice and still have sex with you, but I have one rule," you tell him and press your foot against his chest to keep him away.

"Anything. Anything at all- I swear," He assures you, and you smile.

"You're not allowed to touch me," you say, and he scoffs.

"You can't be serious," He pants.

"It's this or nothing," you say and start to get up from the bed.

"No, no, please, I'll do it. I'll do it," He promises.

"You're pathetic," you laugh, and he glares at you. "Wipe that look off your face," You scold him, voice surprisingly dominating, and he immediately does. It's hilarious the power you seem to have over this arrogant frat boy. "Sit against the headboard," you tell him, and he doesn't think twice before doing what you say. You get up and start rummaging through his closet.

"What- what are you doing?" He asks, trying to stay still in his spot, but his curiosity is getting the best of him. Once you have what you were looking for, you turn and approach him, your hands hiding the object behind your back.

"Get up," You command, and he jumps off the bed. "Take your clothes off," you say further. He rips everything off besides his boxers. "I didn't say stop, big boy," you tell him, and he blushes. He sheepishly pulls down his underwear and fights the urge to cover himself. Your smirk deepens as you gaze over his body. "On the bed," You command, and as he leans himself against the headboard, you rid yourself of the rest of your own clothes. Harry's eyes cloud over as his eyes take you in. You're truly the most enthralling woman he's ever met.

"Thank you," He whispers as you straddle his lap, his hands gently rest on your plushy thighs. You almost feel bad for what you are about to do, but your horniness brings you out of it.

"Very sweet," you say and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He moans lightly and tries to turn his head to fully capture your lips, but you move away at the perfect time. You take his hands in yours and tie them together with the tie you found in his closet. His eyes widen and his cheeks flush even deeper. "This okay?" You ask and run your fingers through his hair.

"Y-Yes. Never done something like this before, but it's v-very okay," He assures you and tips his head back when you start kissing at the skin on his neck. His hands that are tied together twitch on his stomach and reach to where his dick lays, playing with himself for some much-needed stimulation. His moans get louder, and he feels cum drip from his thick pink tip.

"The fuck are you doing?" You suddenly ask, straightening yourself in time to see Harry playing with himself.

"I'm- I'm sorry. It's just- I'm really fucking horny, and it hurts," He tries to explain but you roll your eyes and scoff.

"You know, this is why I haven't let you fuck me again. Fuckin' selfish," You mock, and he shakes his head.

"No- No, I'm not. Please," He whines, his hand straining against the tie. "Don't go, please," He begs. You stare down at him intensely, and he has no choice but to cower under your glare. Out of nowhere, you suddenly drop yourself down onto his length, rubbing and sliding against where it lays against his stomach. "Oh!" He gasps as he feels your hot wet pussy slide over him.

"I'm going to take what I want from you," You decide and place your hands against his chest to get a better form. Your tight hole begins to catch itself on his tip when you push down on him, and you see Harry biting his lip so hard you think it might bleed. You continue sliding your pussy over him until his dick is twitching and leaking with cum.

"You got to stop if you don't want me to cum," he says, his voice strained and tight.

"You need to work on your stamina," you remind him and grab his cock, positioning him with your tight entrance.

"Oh, God- Oh, God," He chants as you slide his tip in. His hips stagger, making him slide in a bit deeper, so you press on his stomach to keep him down.

"Easy," You command, and he looks as if he could cry. You fuck yourself on the tip of his cock, getting your entrance to spread, but he's just so fucking big. You look down at him, and he has that same fucked out expression on his face. "Don't you fucking dare," you say and begin to insert more of him into you.

"Then fucking stop!" He whines. He almost cries when he feels your fingers squish into his cheeks, making him look into your eyes.

"You're not making the fucking rules here, frat boy. I told you if I was going to do this again, it was going to be by my terms, not yours, so shut the fuck up and stay still," You command, and you see tears gather in his eyes. You roll your eyes and slide down on him even further, about halfway in now. He chokes on a sob of pleasure and strains his fists in his lap.

"I'm sorry," he says before you feel his hips buck up into yours and his heavy load spurting into your pussy. The sensation almost makes you cum, but you push it away so you can see his pretty face as he orgasms. His body is trembling, and it feels like his high lasts forever. He feels you untie his wrists, and he subconsciously flexes them out of their stiff position. His breathing is rapid as he comes down, and a smile is graced across his lips until he feels you start bouncing on his sensitive cock again. "Oh, fuck! What are you doing-"

"I didn't come, asshole," You spit and grind yourself on his hardening dick.

"I'm too s-sensitive," He slurs, his hips tensing away and his hands coming up to grab your plushy hips. His mouth his dropped, and his head falls back. "I might be in love with you," He gasps, and you laugh.

"Shut up," You giggle, but you are cut off when his hips thrust up into you and his fingers come down to play with your clit. "Fuck, your dick is too good," You moan and don't have time to react before you're shoved onto your back, Harry above you. His hands push your thighs to your chest, and his hips piston into your squelching cunt. "Oh!" You gasp and suddenly feel your own orgasm starting to arrive.

"Cum for me, please cum on my dick," He begs and brings one hand to your mouth to pry it open before spitting directly into your mouth. "Swallow," He whispers. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pounds into your pussy like an animal.

"I'm gonna fucking cum," You almost scream and start to shake.

"I'm filling your pussy again," Harry moans and grounds himself into you, basically sitting on you and filling you with all of his fat cock. Your hand instinctually reaches out and pushes at his toned stomach, but the weight of him, and the feeling of him deep inside your body only makes your orgasm so much better.

"So deep," You whisper and squirm.

"Take it, take it," he almost begs as he cums, his own orgasm shooting inside of you and sticking you two together. You're both shaking at the intensity of your orgasms.

Sounds of panting fill the room as you both settle. Harry flops down onto your chest, and you reach around to rub at his back, very well-aware of his half-hard dick still deep inside you.

"You're hard already?" You ask.

"Wanna go again?"

#harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harrystyles #one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot

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cheapshrimpysheep · 7 months

Text

You Will Stop the Wedding! - Azul Ashengrotto

SUMMARY: YOU were the one being kidnapped by Princess Eliza to marry her. How would he react and how would he save you? With the aggravation of he already having a crush on you.

CHARACTERS: Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Declaration

WORD COUNT: 1.110 words

Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia

Rescuing You - Deuce Spade; Jack Howl; Floyd Leech; Kalim Al-Asim

COMMENTS: What have I done? Why did I commit to writing this? And why did I write so much? Why was I so inspired? There were seven of them! Why do I do this to myself? So yeah, this took me a long time. But I hope it was worth it, for me and for you.

CONTEXT: Someone was kidnapped to marry some ghost princess and might end up turning into a ghost too. And he just found out that someone was you.

Azul had already offered to help if he had something in return. So when he heard your name, he managed to cover up his concern with that excuse.

When rescue groups are formed, he asks to be in the last one. He first needs to analyse the behaviour of the ghosts to try to figure out the best approach. He is extremely cautious, so he needs all the information he can get first. After all, it's your life that's at risk and he doesn't like to leave things to chance, especially something like this.

When it's the last group's turn, whenever someone needs to stay behind to tie up the ghosts, Azul asks one of the others to do so. And when they ask him why he doesn't stay behind, he starts bargain and trying to make deals with them. He manages to be the only one to reach the ceremony hall.

He followed the plan. He analysed the other teams' data and came up with the perfect approach by the ghost's standards. He even managed to reach her with a bouquet of roses in perfect condition.

He is a man of words, of many words, perhaps even too many words. At a certain point the princess asked him to stop talking. She says everything he says is very flattering. And you even recognize that way of speaking, it's very similar to the way he speaks to potential valuable clients. And perhaps because of that, the princess had realized that it was not sincere.

She was about to rejection-slap him when he asked for one last chance because he had a song to sing for her. She decides to give him this last chance because she was curious.

Surprisingly, there was a piano in the ceremony hall. He sat down, placed his fingers on the keys and began to play. It had a clear, bright, and uplifting sound. He really was talented at the piano. He started to sing, a love song, of course. However, more than in speech, it is in singing that his lack of sincerity would be even more easily captured. The song was a clarion love song, about strong feelings of love, joy, and hope. And the others could tell he didn't genuinely believe in what he was singing. He realized this too. That was his last chance.

Then, when the guards were preparing to take him away from the piano, he subtly changed the melody. And his own way of singing too, now it was starting to sound sincere. It got slightly sadder and in the lyrics he admitted he didn't believe what he had sung until that moment. That he never understood those songs, but that he always hoped that one day he would understand. And then he met “you”. He was singing in second person. The song talked about how the two of "you" had started off on the wrong foot, but that didn't stop "you" two from overcoming it. That didn't stop you from seeing something worthy in him, and from giving him a second chance. And it ends on a note of hope, but uncertainty. And it ends on a note of hope despite the uncertainty.

When he finished, the princess and some of the guards were crying emotionally. She starts to say how beautiful that song was, and he turns back to her, as if he had woken up, as if while he was playing he had forgotten what was around him. But he quickly regained his composure, and he went back to his act.

And one of the guards notices this. The guard who is in love with the princess. And he accuses Azul that that song wasn't for the princess. She starts to defend Azul, and this almost makes the guard take back what he said. But he said that Azul should prove it by saying some of those words looking directly into the princess's eyes. You, because you know him, noticed that Azul was slightly apprehensive, but accepted with a charismatic smile.

He went in front of the princess, took her hands, looked into her eyes and said one or two of the phrases from the song. And the tone was completely different from what he sang. Proving that music really wasn't for her. Shocked, she slapped Azul. But... he was still able to move.

Everyone gasps, including the princess. When the guards ask what's going on, the princess says it can only mean one thing. The thing is that her slap is capable of petrifying anyone, except those who have already found their true love. The reaction from all NRC students is like "What the F-?!" And Azul’s reaction was blushing, as if he had been caught.

The princess became even more depressed about that. His song was actually true, but it was for someone else. She starts to feel sorry for herself and that's when the guard starts to consulate her. Saying that she also has someone who feels that way about her. Him. And that whole ending of the princess realizing that she loved him too happens, they get married and happily ever after.

After everything and while the first-years were getting ready to tidy up and clean the cafeteria, you asked Azul to wait a bit. You leave the room so you can talk alone. You tell him that song was very beautiful and ask him who it was for. After all, that slap thing revealed that it was true and for someone. He blushes a little and acts like he's admitting something, reluctantly.

“I know I made the song more ambiguous so the princess would think I was singing about her, but I know you are more insightful than this.” You wonder out loud if he was singing about money or Mostro Lounge. “Wha-?! Who do you take me for?” He wasn't doing the act of acting offended, he genuinely seemed a little offended. “Do you really think I would love money as much as I love you?” and then, realizing what he had just said, he shuts up. And blushes even more. “N-No, w-wait, I...”

You laugh. He says, extremely embarrassed: “I just saved you, don't laugh at me like that!” You explain that you're not laughing at him, but more at the situation. You say that the way he spoke, in the heat of the moment, only revealed how truthful he was. And it was cute that he declared himself like that.

If you also tell him that you feel the same way about him, how you loved the song, eventually you will have to prove it with a kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Ghost Marriage #The Phantom Bride: Love at First Fright #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Azul x Reader

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