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theostrophywife · 2 months

Text

my collar.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: she's my collar by gorillaz (feat. kali uchis)

author's note: sometimes theo just needs to be put in his place and i'm more than happy to deliver that 😏

It was heinous.

It was criminal.

It was downright torturous.

Your boyfriend leaned over, his lips grazing your earlobe as he lowered his voice to a husky, seductive tone. “Are you okay, principessa? You seem a little distracted.”

Crimson colored your cheeks as you straightened against the wingback chair, clearing your throat while you looked around the table, which was currently occupied by your closest friends. All of which were none the wiser to the effect Theo had on you tonight.

“I’m fine,” you squeaked out.

“Really?” Theo drawled, sliding his hand down your thigh and squeezing firmly. “Because you haven’t stopped shaking your leg since dinner started. A shame. Malfoy flew in a private chef from France. He really wants to impress his girl. I know what that’s like.”

You inhaled sharply as his hand trailed higher, his rough and calloused fingers slipping underneath the slit of your dress. “Teddy, please…”

“Begging already, dolcezza? I thought we agreed to save that for the bedroom.”

The teasing and taunting, the push and pull, the cat and mouse routine between you and Theo had been constant all night. Punishment for turning down his proposal for a quickie before dinner. It was hard enough to say no to Theo on a normal day, but declining your boyfriend’s proposition of hot, frantic sex while he looked absolutely sinful in a custom three piece suit was nearly impossible. Not to mention painful.

Still, if you’d taken him up on the offer, you most likely would’ve never made it to dinner. You couldn’t do that to Draco. He needed emotional support. Tonight was his first time ingratiating Hermione into your friend group and you promised that you’d do everything in your power to make her feel welcome.

With a sigh, you pried Theo’s fingers off of your thigh. “Behave, Theodore.” Your boyfriend pouted like a petulant child. “Draco needs us.”

You nodded towards the blonde who looked equally panicked and appalled while Blaise recounted embarrassing stories to Hermione. The golden girl seemed amused by the antics, but Malfoy was anything but.

“Save him before he ruptures a blood vessel,” you murmured to your boyfriend. For good measure, you batted your lashes up at him and gave him a look that he couldn’t refuse. “Please, baby.”

Theo sighed, mumbling in Italian under his breath. “Gentlemen. Care for a cigar?”

Thankfully, Zabini’s plan to embarrass the hell out of Draco was momentarily forgotten. Crisis averted. Draco shot you a grateful look, knowing that you were most likely behind the save. Salazar knows that Theo would’ve delighted in the effort of sullying his oldest friend’s reputation if he hadn’t been distracted.

The boys rose from their chairs, excusing themselves from the room. Theo lingered beside you, dipping his head to place a kiss right underneath your jaw. He sucked lightly on the sweet spot and smirked as you melted against him. The bastard was playing dirty.

“You owe me for that, cara mia.”

Desire bloomed in your core, flooding heat through your body as you peered at your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but admire him in his suit. The midnight blue fabric draped over his tall and lean figure like your own personal gift and the deep stormy color brought out his eyes. You flushed as he turned, training his intense gaze on you like he was savoring the sight. With a cheeky grin, Theo shot you a wink before slipping out the door.

Beside you, Pansy tutted in disapproval. “Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.”

You flushed as Hermione bit back a grin. The curly haired witch patted your hand. “You have my sympathy. When I first saw Draco in a suit, I nearly spilled wine all over myself.”

“See, Pans. I’m not the only one,” you murmured in self-defense. “I can’t help it.”

Pansy shook her head, her glossy bob grazing her chin. “You can and you will. Don’t let Nott turn you into a simpering mess. The Y/N I know would bring a man to his knees.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “I think Pansy’s right. You should show Theo who’s really in control.”

You smirked as an idea started forming in your head. “You’re more devious than you look, aren’t you, Granger?” Hermione flashed you an innocent smile, which made you laugh. Draco had his work cut out for him. You liked her all the more for it. “You two have a point. Maybe I’ll give my boyfriend a taste of his own medicine tonight.”

Once your mind was made up, the three of you moved on to more important topics. You were fascinated to hear about Hermione’s work on curing lycanthropy while she was equally curious about the proposed laws that you were in the process of bringing before the Wizengamot. The bill was a passion project of yours because it would give rights and protections to muggle born wizards and witches that had never been afforded to them before. You were ready to fight tooth and nail to see it come to fruition.

Needless to say, you were a little too passionate about it. The last time Rita Skeeter interviewed you under the guise of bringing light to the cause, you nearly strangled the sneaky little witch for taking more interest in your romantic relationship than the work you were trying to achieve. You were glad that Pansy worked her high society charm and publicity experience to diffuse the situation.

In the end, she bribed and threatened the proper people to have the story killed. It was a blessing in disguise since you ended up giving exclusive rights to the Quibbler, which was now spearheaded by your old classmate Luna. She truly did the story justice. As a bonus, her tenacity seemed to have caught the attention of the pickiest witch you knew. No matter how many times Pansy denied it, you knew your friend was smitten.

“Babe, you should take your own advice and just ask Luna out already.”

Your friend nearly choked on her wine. Hermione watched the interaction with an amused expression. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she turned over to Pansy. “I happen to know that you’re just her type.”

Never in your life had you seen Pansy Parkinson blush that furiously. She caught herself, holding her head high in that aristocratic way of hers. “Of course I’m her type,” your friend declared in a haughty tone. “I’m everyone’s type.”

You and Hermione looked at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. Pansy cracked a smile and laughed along. The three of you were in full hysterics by the time the boys came back.

Theo slipped back into his seat, squeezing your shoulder gently. “What’s so funny, dolcezza?”

“Girl talk,” Hermione answered on your behalf. “It’s not for you boys to hear.”

You nodded in between giggles. “What Granger said.”

Draco groaned. “Bloody hell, they’re unionizing.”

Your boyfriend raised a brow. He placed his hand back on your thigh, resuming the torturous contact from earlier in the night. “Keeping secrets from me now, Y/N?”

You plastered a saccharine sweet smile on your face. Theo observed curiously as you peeled his fingers from your leg before firmly holding his hand. “I thought you liked a little mystery, baby.”

Theo swallowed thickly as you leaned in to whisper in his ear. He held his breath while you pressed your palm against his chest, twirling his tie between red painted fingernails. You lowered your voice into a dark, seductive tone. “Have I told you how good you look tonight? I could just eat you up.”

Lust blown eyes stared back at you, those familiar piercing blue irises completely swallowed by darkness. Theo shifted in his seat as his gaze dropped down to your mouth. You flashed him an innocent smile before releasing his tie and returning to the conversation happening around you. You could feel that burning gaze on you as you laughed and talked with Pansy and Mattheo.

For the rest of the dinner, you kept up the nonchalant act. You mustered every ounce of self-control within you and rebuffed all of Theo’s advances. Every time he leaned in for a kiss, you gave him your cheek instead. When the group moved to the sitting room, you walked by his side instead of leading the way because you knew Theo would take advantage and smack your ass when no one was looking. To his surprise, you slapped his backside with a sly little smirk, causing him to glance over at you in shock.

By the time you were seated on the expensive velvet couch, Theo was practically jittering. His knee bounced beside you as Hermione continued telling you about the Paris trip Draco had planned. Without looking at him, you placed a hand on your boyfriend’s leg and stopped his anxious bouncing. He sighed beside you, no doubt pouting like a petulant child. Yet you didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement, which only made him more desperate.

“Let’s get out of here,” Theo whispered into your ear. “You can devour me all you’d like, cara mia.”

You shook your head. “We haven’t even gotten to dessert yet, my love.”

When Draco brought out a spread of chocolate covered strawberries, the opportunity to tease Theo even more quite literally presented itself on a silver platter. You pinched the ripe fruit between your fingers before wrapping your lips around it. Theo watched with rapt attention as you took a slow, deliberate bite, making a whole show of sucking and licking off the chocolate. He gripped the armchair so hard that his knuckles turned white from the strained effort.

You bit back a smirk as he crossed his legs and tried not to groan. It was obvious that you had the upper hand now. Theo was barely paying attention to whatever anecdote Enzo and Mattheo were rambling to him about. Those electric eyes were trained on you as you picked up another strawberry.

“Want a bite, Teddy?” you asked lovingly. “They’re sweet.”

Theo sucked in a breath before nodding slowly. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment. You offered the fruit to him, cradling his cheek gently as he wrapped his lips around the strawberry in a suggestive manner. Theo kept eye contact as he sucked the white chocolate off. You stared back, smiling sweetly as he devoured the fruit in one bite. He seemed frustrated at your unaffected expression, but you were determined not to break. You were going to come out on top tonight. In more ways than one.

Usually, the two of you would be the first to leave. You rarely made it through an entire night without Theo dragging you into the floo so you could tear each other apart back at your shared flat. Tonight was different though. You lasted all the way through midnight, forcing yourself to laugh and chat with your friends as you ignored your boyfriend’s fuck me eyes from across the room.

For that, you made sure you were the last to leave. Theo was convinced he was slowly dying. As soon as the two of you stepped through the floor, your boyfriend scrambled towards your direction, itching to get his hands all over you.

You stepped out of his reach and shook your head. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Theo looked utterly confused. “I’ve never needed permission before.”

You chuckled darkly. “You really think I’d reward you for acting like a brat all night? You’re going to learn that it’s a bad idea to tease me like that in front of all of our friends.” Theo gaped at your words. “Now, sit. You can use this time to think about what you’ve done.”

“Dolcezza, please —“

”Did I fucking stutter, Theo?” You jutted your chin to the bed. “Sit. I won’t tell you again.”

Judging by the look on his face, Theo was stunned at the sudden change, but you knew your boyfriend well enough to notice that he was entirely turned on by it too. He settled on the edge of the bed, watching in anticipation as you made your way over to the vanity table. As slowly as possible, you took off every piece of jewelry one by one. The diamonds glittered brightly as you removed them from your neck, ears, and fingers.

A tense silence settled in the room while you pulled the pins out of your updo, sending your hair cascading over your shoulders. Theo squirmed in place, groaning at the sight. You knew that seeing your hair down was his weakness.

“Baby,” he pleaded in the darkness. “Can I touch you?”

You cut him a disinterested glance over your shoulder. “You can help me take my dress off.”

Theo sighed in relief as you sauntered over to him. His slender fingers struggled with the zipper, eager to tear the fabric off of your body. You met his gaze through the mirror, giving him a stern look.

“Slow, Theo. You need to be patient.”

Your boyfriend swallowed thickly, struggling to reign himself in. He concentrated on undressing you slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled the zipper down. He cursed under his breath when your dress pooled around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a little lacy green set — his favorite.

The struggle was evident in his expression. His gaze raked over your body, settling on the spiky heels that you purposely kept on. The red soled stilettos clicked against the wooden floors as you closed the gap. You smirked as you settled between his legs and tugged on his tie.

“Your turn,” you rasped while Theo gazed at you with pure hunger. “Let me undress you now.”

“Okay,” Theo murmured, dazed and confused as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He hissed when you raked your nails over his chest and made quick work of his tie. Theo started unbuttoning his shirt, but reeled back when you swatted his hands away. Your boyfriend gazed up at you expectantly, letting his hands fall neatly to his sides while you took over. Without much effort, you expertly unbuckled his belt and kneeled before him to help him slip out of his pants. Once he was stripped down to his boxers, your eyes flickered back to his face.

“Get on the bed,” you commanded.

Theo was mesmerized, inching backwards towards the headboard on his elbows, but keeping his attention on you as you crawled on the mattress with your heels still on. Your boyfriend was completely under your spell as you brought your face close to his, your hair tickling his chest while he eagerly drank you in.

“What do you want?”

“I want to kiss you,” he answered without hesitation.

”Then learn to ask for it.”

Theo nodded, biting his lip. “Can I kiss you?”

You raised a brow, utterly unimpressed. “Try again, Theo.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, canines sinking down. “Can I kiss you, please?”

You smirked, pleased with the magic word. “Good boy.”

Something dark flashed in Theo’s expression. Your words seemed to awaken a new level of lust and desire within him. The praise gave him a rush that he had never felt before. Theo surged forward, his mouth slanting over yours eagerly. He tasted like wine and strawberries, heady and sinful while he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped past the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You granted his request, licking the roof of his mouth as you battled for control.

Theo welcomed the challenge, groaning into your mouth as he pulled you into his lap. You straddled him and tugged at his hair as you flicked your tongue over his bottom lip, licking and sucking until he groaned with need. Theo took liberties without your permission, his greed getting the best of him as he grinded his hard length against your ass.

You weren’t going to reward his impertinent behavior. You promised to teach him a lesson tonight. Theo gasped as you bit down on his bottom lip before raising his arms above him. He blinked in confusion as you bound him to the headboard with his own tie. It all happened so fast that by the time he noticed, it was already too late.

Theo tugged at the restraints, squirming underneath you. “Please, cara mia. I want to touch you.”

You sighed in disappointment. “Then you should've asked.”

His biceps flexed as he struggled, the veins on his forearms stark and prominent against his olive skin. Panic filled his eyes when he realized that there was no getting out of his binds. “I’m sorry. I got greedy. Please untie me, principessa. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll make it up to you.”

Theo sounded desperate. You traced his swollen lips with your fingers and tugged at his messy brown waves. His eyes were wild as you straddled him. “Oh, you will,” you drawled, flashing him a devious smirk. “After I’m done with you, you’ll learn not to disobey me, my love.”

Your boyfriend panted heavily as you kissed down his chest, sucking and nipping at his flesh in a punishing manner. He was barely breathing as you trailed further south, licking a stripe down his torso. Theo whimpered as you pressed sloppy, openmouthed kisses along his abdominal muscles, leaving hickies in the shape of your initials on his skin. You continued taunting him with your mouth, flicking your tongue along his sinfully delicious happy trail like you had all the time in the world. When you grazed your teeth against his v-lines, Theo tugged at his arms so hard that the headboard rattled.

He was practically in tears as you palmed his cock through the fabric of his underwear. Theo held his breath as you toyed with the band of his boxers, hooking your fingers over the fabric before sliding it off his long legs. His eyes rolled back while you pumped him, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him writhing against your touch.

A desperate little whine slipped past his lips as you licked at the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over his tip and slurping up his precum. His moans filled the room when you took him down your throat, holding his hips down so he can’t fuck up into your mouth like he wants. Theo cursed in Italian as you pumped him with both hands, all the while sucking down and hollowing your cheeks to suction him in.

“Fuck, bella. I’m so close,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “I’m going to cum.”

You withdrew your hands and your mouth at that moment, making him whine and groan from the sudden absence. Theo’s eyes flew wide open, tears filling his vision as you shook your head in disapproval.

“I thought I told you to ask,” you chided. “If you want to cum, use your words.”

“Please, please, baby, I’ll do whatever you want —“

”I know,” you said before settling over him and sliding off your panties. “And what I want is for you to get me off. Think you can help me with that, Theo?”

“Yes, yes. Just untie me and I will. I’ll make you feel good, dolcezza. I promise.”

“Oh, but you can do that right here, right now. With your hands tied.” Theo groaned as you grinded against him, spreading his precum and your slick over him. He moaned when his cock rubbed against your swollen clit with the perfect amount of friction. Theo was bewildered, his breaths coming out in ragged spurts.

“Be a good boy and let me use you as my fuck toy. You can do that, can’t you, Teddy?”

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in his mind. Theo felt the words escape him as you grinded against him. He felt dizzy. His cock was so hard that it hurt and he couldn’t even think straight. You hummed, brushing a finger over his balls before cupping them in your hand.

“Use your words, pretty boy.” Theo blinked back, unable to speak. You grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing him back into focus. “I asked you a question. I expect you to answer.”

Theo whimpered before nodding weakly. “Use me, dolcezza. I’m yours.”

You smirked in satisfaction. Theo groaned as you rubbed your pussy against his cock. When his shaft brushed against your clit, his eyes rolled back so hard that he was convinced he could see the vacantness of his empty mind. You rode him hard and fast, using his body to get you off. The depravity of it turned him on even more. The blood rushed out of his head at the dominance you exhibited. You were utterly selfish, taking what you wanted when you wanted it, and he was so fucking aroused at how cruel his girl could be.

You raked your nails over his chest as you balanced, teasing him with your wet folds without letting him feel you. Theo bit his lip so hard that the action drew blood. You licked away the crimson droplets and he sighed against your mouth as you gave him relief, sloppily kissing him while you moaned his name. He could tell you were getting close by the way you convulsed above him and he cursed as your pussy squelched against his cock.

Theo was in awe as you cried out, cumming while you screamed his name. You slowed the roll of your hips as you lost yourself over to the orgasm, denying him of his own again. Your juices trickled down your thighs and pooled against his stomach. At that point, his cock was so sensitive that it throbbed painfully. Theo was in shambles, his wrists raw and red from tugging so hard.

“Please, please, baby. Let me fuck you. I need it. I need you. I’ll die if I’m not inside you.”

You chuckled, brushing the salty tears pooling underneath his pretty eyes. “Pathetic. Are you begging for me, pretty boy? So desperate to fill me up, to feel my pussy hug around your cock while you pump your cum inside of me, hm?”

“It hurts so bad,” Theo whined. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything you want. I’ll get on my knees and beg. Please, principessa.”

“Look at you crying for me,” you cooed, caressing his cheek. “Poor Teddy. You’ve been so good. Let me take care of you now.” You soothed him with praises as you untied his arms.

You kissed his wrists as Theo sighed in relief. “Do you want to touch me, baby?”

Theo nodded shyly, which made you smile. His large, rough hands carefully gripped your hips. He looked to you for approval, making sure to check with you for every little thing. You only nodded, dragging his hands up to rest on your breasts. He busied himself with your bra strap, breathing raggedly as he freed your tits from the fabric.

“Can I touch them, please?” Theo asked earnestly.

“Is that all you want?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I want to kiss them. I want to suck them.” His gaze flickered to your amused expression. “Please, baby.”

“Go ahead. You earned it, pretty boy.”

Theo wasted no time, kneading your tits while kissing down your cleavage. He gasped in surprise when you sank down onto him, nearly sobbing in relief when he felt your pussy hug around his cock. His shaky little breaths seeped into your skin as you took inch after inch, making yourself comfortable on his lap as he sheathed himself inside of you. Theo whined when you lifted your hips until only his remained inside of you.

“Don’t whine, Theo. Be thankful that I’m fucking you instead of punishing you.”

He rested his head on the crook of your neck, attempting to ground himself. “Thank you, baby. I’m grateful. I don’t deserve it, but you’re so good to me.”

With a proud smile, you slammed down to take all of him again. Theo was rendered speechless and his mouth fell open as you bounced on his cock. Desperately, he scrambled to catch your perky breasts into his mouth. Your boyfriend sucked on your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples. You moaned as he nipped at you, tensing when you yanked him by his hair.

Theo stared at you, waiting for direction. Knowing that you had this much control over him made you clench. In your relationship, Theo tended to take on the dominant role, but now that you knew that your boyfriend was more than open to being submissive, you were ready to explore this new dynamic.

“I like this side of you,” you murmured, kissing down his jaw and neck. His breath hitched as you slowly rolled your hips. “So obedient. So willing. So submissive.” A shiver shuddered through him as you wrapped your fingers around his neck. “Tell me who you belong to, Theo.”

“You, baby,” he rasped. “Only you.”

“Show me,” you commanded as you squeezed his throat. It was enough to make Theo feel dizzy, momentarily cutting off his oxygen. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The desire to please you overwhelmed him. All thoughts of his own pleasure faded. It was secondary to the need to hear you praise him, to validate him, to call him your good boy. He hooked his arm around your waist, shifting his hips to fuck into you at a deeper angle. You moaned above him as your bodies melded together. Sweat, sin, and sex permeated the air while he worshiped at your altar.

Theo watched his cock disappear between your folds, his gaze flickering from your pussy to your face, eager to know if his actions pleased you. You brushed his hair back, gentle and loving, while you talked him through it.

“That’s it, Teddy. Fill me up.” Theo thrusted as you bounced, groaning as he hit the sweet spot that made your body sing. “Just like that. Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good, baby.”

Your forehead dropped to his, rewarding him with sweet little kisses every time he hit the spongy spot that had you seeing stars. He relished in your compliments, felt himself craving it like a drug. When your pussy clenched around him to signal your release, Theo continued to fuck you through the orgasm. There was a reverent glimmer in his eyes like he was witnessing something holy when you came.

Theo could feel his own release nearing, but he knew better than to cum without asking. It was abundantly clear to him that you were in control tonight. “Can I cum? Please, principessa?”

“Of course you can,” you replied with a blissed out smile. “Good boys get to cum.”

He held his breath, feeling warmth spread throughout his body. “I’ve been a good boy?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “The best boy.” Even though you were sensitive and overstimulated, you made sure to reward his good behavior. Picking up the pace, sliding easily up and down his cock thanks to your wetness, you whispered the words that you knew would push Theo over the edge. “Now be a good boy and cum inside of me, baby.”

Theo cried out with a shout, shuddering underneath you as he shot hot ribbons deep inside your pussy. You could feel his cum filling you up, warm and wet as it trickled out. He panted against your neck as his cock twitched inside of you, releasing his load with each pump. As he emptied himself out, Theo slowed, his body collapsing from the intensity of the orgasm.

When he regained consciousness, he was flat on his back. Theo blinked away the white spots in his vision. It felt like his soul had left his body entirely. He had cum so hard he passed out. As he rejoined the physical realm, Theo opened his eyes to find you cleaning him up. You were so sweet and gentle, the complete opposite of the selfish lover you’d been just a few moments ago. It warmed his heart to know that you’d always take care of him no matter what.

Theo smiled as you kissed his forehead. A small whimper escaped his mouth as you pulled his boxers over his legs, his cock still sensitive from the intense sex. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, soothing him as you brushed your fingers through his hair. Theo cuddled against your side and sighed happily.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

You giggled, pressing soft kisses all over his face. “Did you like that?” You asked, teasing your boyfriend. “It seems like you did.”

He hummed against your skin, brushing his lips against your neck. “Fuck, I think you just unlocked a new kink for me.” You chuckled at his words. “That was so fucking hot, baby.”

“You know, I was trying to teach you a lesson,” you mused. “I didn’t quite expect you to enjoy getting degraded this much.”

“Degrade me whenever you want, dolcezza.”

"Really?" you hummed, musing on his willingness. "How far would you let me go? If I broke out a leash and collar, would you have stopped me?"

You were half-joking, but the eager expression on your boyfriend's face told you that he was more than willing to make your suggestion into a reality.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, cara mia." Theo wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. "I'd crawl to you on my hands and knees if you asked. If you're the one asking, there's nothing I wouldn't do."

The power definitely gave you a head rush. As much as you relished in the hold you had over him, you tucked the knowledge away for later. There was plenty of opportunity to act out all your dirtiest, filthiest fantasies, but for now, you were more than content to snuggle with the love of your life.

You smirked, nipping at his jaw. “That’s my good boy.”

#i want to put him in a pretty little pink collar #theo nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theo nott imagine

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fangswbenefits · 6 months

Text

Unexpected

Summary: Astarion has barely ever considered starting a family with you in the old-fashioned way, but an unexpected conversation might just trigger that urge.

Pairing: Astarion x femalex!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Breeding kink. Creampie. P in V sex. Body worship. Vampire bite. Blood drinking. Precum.

Word count: 2.2k

As far as Astarion was concerned, babes were merely drool and poop dispensers.

He could definitely do without having to be around one for more than the strictly necessary.

And today was one of those days.

You had offered to look after one of your friend's toddler, but he had somehow been left on duty as you worked around the kitchen.

Typical.

He glared at the tiny human that stood on his thighs, wobbling dangerously and was only kept upright thanks to his firm hold.

Astarion glanced around to ensure that you weren't nearby before he mischievously bared his fangs at the baby.

He expected fear or a screech.

But no.

She merely glared at him for a brief moment before bursting into a high-pitched laughter that pierced through his ears and made him wince in pain.

Had it not been for his fast reflexes, she would have had her tiny and prying paws inside his mouth as she tried to reach for his fangs.

“No – these are no toy,” he grumbled in utmost annoyance.

You walked into the room, straightening your dress whilst giving him a taunting glare. “Look at you! Bonding.”

He held the babe as far as he could from his face as she giggled enthusiastically, clearly finding in him some amusement.

He scoffed. “Please. Even the Nine Hells can't be as torturous as this.”

Clicking your tongue, you approached to sweep her into your arms, which caused an infernal reaction from her as she broke into a screech that would put a banshee to shame.

“See? She prefers Uncle Astarion.”

He rolled his eyes, returning his focus on the book had been peacefully enjoying before this unfortunate ordeal.

As you managed to quiet her down by shifting her attention to a stuffed owl bear toy, two soft knocks were heard on the front door.

Finally.

You allowed your friend inside who promptly took her babe in her arms.

“Please tell me she behaved,” she said apologetically. “She's teething and her temper can be overbearing at times.”

“It was no bother. She was absolutely delightful and even bonded with Uncle Astarion.”

She chuckled alongside you.

He could feel a frown grow on his face as she turned to him. “How come you two haven't considered having one of your own?”

Astarion's eyes nearly bulged out.

“Oh, it has never crossed our minds, really,” you immediately blurted out, pinching the babe's cheeks affectionately. “We're better off this way.”

Now that set him off.

“Actually, I have considered it.”

Far more often than he dared admitting, but it was not more than wishful thinking.

He was fortunate enough not to worry about unwanted pregnancies, as being a vampire spawn made the feat nigh impossible.

But he still wondered how you'd look carrying his child.

Especially with you being such the motherly type.

His eyes fell to your heaving chest for a moment, and he vaguely imagined how your breasts would swell.

“Oh? You have?” you sounded more surprised than shocked.

Your friend shifted a glance between you and him. “I'm sure Astarion here would warm up to the idea fast – so to speak.”

How he detested puns.

Once she bid her farewell and you parted ways with a gentle kiss to the babe's temple, he found himself content as silence took over.

“You meant that?”

He pressed the book in his hands closed. “Us having a child?”

You nodded.

“I don't see why not.”

You began undoing the laces of your dress as you paced into the room.

“Well, it's not like we can physically do it.”

Astarion stood on his feet, following you closely behind.

“We can.”

Your head turned abruptly to him. “You're just having a laugh, aren't you?”

Astarion had read enough about half-vampires – dhampirs – to know it wasn't as hard to achieve as one might think.

He would just need to be very persistent and be well fed.

“It is possible.”

You chuckled. “I think we would be on babe number four if it were truly possible.”

As he walked up behind you, he planted a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, moving his masterful fingers down the lacing of your corset.

He adored having you wear the most exquisite clothes he could embroider for you, but he equally adored helping you get undressed.

Just for him.

“But the real question, darling, is… would you want me to?”

As the corset loosened around you, he could see your breasts expand into fullness.

“Want what?”

The chemise underneath hid most of them from sight, but he could see your nipples faintly protruding against the sheet fabric.

He could feel himself already hardening from the topic of the conversation alone.

“Do you want me to breed you?”

His blunt words made you gasp. “You always come inside, Astarion… and nothing happens.”

Was that disappointment he detected in your voice?

Gods above…

That only served to fuel his lust.

You stepped out of your crimson dress and he shifted languidly until he was on his knees in front of you.

“What are you doing?”

He lifted your chemise just above your navel, and trailed soft kisses along your lower abdomen, feeling you occasionally flinching under his cold lips.

Your fingers tangled in his curls as a soft gasp left your lips. “Astarion?”

He did his best to ignore the ever-growing twitch against his trousers.

“Maybe we should rectify this predicament.”

You ran the pads of your fingers along his scalp in such a loving manner that he found himself humming in approval as his cold lips began to travel downwards.

“And how could you even do such a thing?”

Oh. You still thought he was bullshitting you?

He glared up at you with half-hooded eyes. “Hold on to that pole and place your leg on my shoulder.”

Astarion took pride in being a giving and caring lover who resorted to words laced with sensuality, to get you all worked up for him.

You arched a brow at him, but held onto the iron rod of the bed canopy while lifting your leg and resting it on his shoulder.

From this new angle, he was able to spot a growing damp spot in your underwear that nearly made him salivate.

The fabric clung to your folds, allowing him to spot the outline of your throbbing swell.

It seemed that your body was already getting ready for what was to come.

Hungrily, he leaned forward to place an open-mouthed kiss on the already damp fabric.

You bucked your hips instinctively against him as he teased your folds with his tongue.

He felt the first drops of precum staining his own clothes, and had no choice but to undo the lacing at the front so he could ease the unbearable strain.

The heel of your foot dug into his back as he kept adding more dampness to your underwear with his saliva, enjoying the sight of the outline of your folds.

With one hand firmly closed around his cock, he moved his lips to your inner thigh, earning a groan of protest from you.

He chuckled against your heated skin, squeezing some more precum from his tip, enjoying how it dribbled down his knuckles.

“Stop teasing…” you groaned, softly tugging at his curls.

But Astarion had something else in mind.

“I should be well fed before attempting this, if the words on those books and scrolls are to be trusted.”

A soft whimper spilled from your mouth and you pulled your underwear to the side with a sigh of relief.

But Astarion found no relief in that as he couldn't tear his eyes away from your soaked folds and the swell that peeked between them.

His cock gave him a warning twitch, as more precum dribbled outs from the tip.

You had broken his concentration with a low blow, but he still managed to part his lips, raking his fangs across the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“You've… never….” you gasped in astonishment as the realisation of his intentions hit you.

“There's a first time for everything, darling.”

Unlike your delectable neck, he had no experience catching your pulse in this area, so he had to drag his lips slowly, in search of that rhythmic pulsing that drove him insane.

“Astarion…” you moaned, rolling your hips.

Once he found what he was looking for, he dragged his tongue along the sweet spot before sinking his fangs into it.

He had anticipated you would squirm under his touch, so he anchored you in place by hooking his arm around your thigh.

Astarion reckoned he would never tire of feeling how hard and warm his cock would get whenever he fed on you, your blood rushing through his body like molten fire.

As he kept downing your blood and keeping you steady, he began to feel the veins that snaked around his cock bulging and he nearly lost it.

Your fingers were still buried in his hair, tugging firmly as your hips rolled on pure instinct.

Through his bloodlust, he managed to shift his gaze only to be met with strings of your wetness dangling from the entrance.

Gods… you were so ready to be bred.

He could feel your arousal.

He could taste it on his tongue.

His hand was doing an adequate job at giving his now heated cock some relief, but he knew he would only find true solace in being buried deep inside you.

Your blood had begun to spill from the corners of his mouth and he felt it trailing down his chin and neck.

With all the willpower he could muster in that moment of blinding hunger, he managed to tear away from you skin, rising to his feet as your leg dropped from his shoulder only to be caught on his arm, effectively keeping you spread for him.

His cock accidentally brushed against the twin marks on your inner thigh, blood coating the leaking tip of his cock.

He let out a hiss as the warm liquid dribbled down his length, mixing with his precum.

Your hand dropped to the back of his neck and you pulled him into a searing kiss, tasting yourself on his soaked lips.

With ease, he shifted closer until the tip of his cock was nudging at your entrance.

You broke the kiss. “Do you think you drank enough?”

His cock twitched violently from the despair in your words.

“There is only one way to find out, darling.”

You licked your lips, jerking your hips to have his tip slide inside.

Then he felt your hand snake in between your bodies until your fingers were wrapped around his length, giving it a trying squeeze.

“You're so, so hard, Astarion…”

Astarion could get even harder just from your praise.

His cock twitched again and he couldn't stop his hips from bucking, gradually burying himself deep within your warmth.

He sank all the way through, bringing his other hand to close around the one you had around the iron rod of the canopy, desperate for support as he thrusted into you.

Soon enough, you had matched his tempo, moving in unison with him.

From this angle, he could see the faint streaks of blood spread around his cock as it spread your folds, allowing him to see how swollen you were for him.

“So eager to be bred, aren't you?” he said in between groans.

You whimpered in response, unbuttoning the front of your chemise.

Astarion nearly came as your bare breasts came into view, swaying with each thrust. Your nipples had hardened completely and he felt his balls tighten.

“I want to see how big they will get.” he moaned more to himself, knowing he was getting closer and closer to his release.

Your mouth fell open but no words came out.

Instead, he felt you squeeze his cock desperately, drawing a primal growl from deep within him.

He truly wanted to know how bigger your breasts would get from carrying his child.

His balls tightened even harder and he felt the familiar wave of overwhelming release wash over his body.

He somehow managed to keep his gaze on your swaying breasts as he spilled deep inside you, feeling his cum shooting rhythmically inside you.

Desperate to feel your own contractions, he placed his thumb between your folds, circling your swell and slowly but surely driving you over the edge.

“Let go, darling…” he urged desperately, wanting the last drops of his seed to be milked out of him forcefully by your contractions.

As your breath quickened and your arms looped around his neck, he knew you were a goner.

You stilled momentarily, rhythmically contracting around him with a gasp.

He glanced down to see the bulging veins along his cock being squeezed as cum began to spill out around him.

Astarion had no idea how much cum he had spilled inside you, but what he did know was that he would gladly spend it all if it meant getting you pregnant with his child.

As you shuddered against him, he placed a soft kiss to your temple.

“Do you think it was enough?”

He chuckled. “I won't stop until it is.”

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion bg3

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sluttsumu · 5 months

Text

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ CASE OF THE EX

ೃ࿐ feat. gojo satoru

in which: you run into your ex husband just when he realizes he needs you back.

contains: nsfw, smut, exhusband!gojo, dubcon, infidelity, intoxicated sex (alcohol), breeding, gojo calls reader wifey, exhibitionism if you squint. wc: 1.3k

ೃ࿐ ki’s note: this was supposedly to be a drabble and ended up being way longer than expected. i’m also trying out a diff writing style lmk whatcha think!

it’s freezing, as it normally is in december, but this was a different type of cold.

the standing on your ex husband’s porch, four glasses of wine deep, kind of cold. you’ve been standing outside for borderline five minutes, but you know he’s home.

“satoru..” the door creaks open to a very tipsy gojo standing on the other side. he’s quick to pull you in without another word because, “it’s freezing, why are you here this late?”

locking the door behind you he winces, rubbing his eyes trying to remember what day of the week it is. “is it my weekend to have her?”

her being your daughter, satoru’s beloved angel — the only other girl he’s ever loved besides you.

loved. past tense.

he swears he’s still inlove with you but you never believed it. you hated gojo satoru, but that’s just what you wanted yourself to think. he’s been trying to break down this wall of resentment for months, after all it’s been almost a year since you two split.

“she’s at your mothers house, i dropped her off last night.”

gojo could breathe easy knowing his daughter isn’t here, he didn’t want her to him like this; drunk, that is.

you watched as he disappears into the kitchen, taking your coat and shoes off, leaving them in familiar places.

you don’t why you’re here, back in this house, with him. it’s almost as if you were on autopilot directing yourself to a common place with no intention just…there.

he comes back with a bottle in one hand and two crystal glasses in the other, staring blankly before asking again, “why are you here?”

the silence was loud enough, it was actually the most you two have spoken in the past year.

—

“do you miss me?” smirking with the tilt of his head he rests his head in his palm, eyes flickering between you and the full shot in front of you. the two of you playing a variation of truth or drink.

“satoru…don’t do this to me.” you face palm.

“i know you do, but if your ego is too big to admit it then take it.” slender fingers slide the glass your way, you could see your reflection in the liquid, and god, you look guilty.

speaking of looks, if they could kill you’d be a dead woman. the way he looks back at you across the table reminds you of all of the reasons you crave gojo satoru.

you took the shot, quickly too. it burned going down almost lighting your body on fire in a self-sabotaging way. he found pleasure in watching you not admitting the blatant fact.

“you deny it but it’s true,” standing, he downs the contents of his glass mid-sentence, making you both somewhat even in intoxication.

the ‘clink’ of him setting his glass down next to yours echos as he’s now moved from sitting across to standing in front of you.

“ ‘m sure there a lot you miss about me, hmm?” his hands slide between your hair and skin, four out of five digits resting on the nape of your neck, his thumbs brushing against your cheek.

from gojo’s pov he couldn’t have you in a better place, literally in the palm of his hand. as crazy as it sounds he had to do this, he loves you, and love makes you do some…not nice things.

to be fair, manipulation and persuasion are not the same to him. he never told you to come over, but then again he could’ve called you an uber and sent you back home…that would’ve been the ‘right’ thing to do.

unfortunately for you everything that comes to mind in the head of gojo satoru is right.

you nod shyly, listening to each saccharine word that leaves his lips.

“c’mon wifey, it’s been so long” the nickname filled your chest, heavy. suddenly it was impossible to move from where you sat. “i’m seeing someone..” a hand, on his chest as a half-assed attempt to defy him.

—

“s-satoru!” you sound so cute under him, clawing at his sheets. that little confession did something to him, made him want to punish you in the most primal way.

seeing someone? oh that’s not happening, not as long as he’s breathing will you ever be with another man. you’ll always be his pretty, little, obedient wife, who spreads her legs for him any time he pleases.

after all you’re still legally married. gojo refused to sign the divorce papers you sent him and eventually you stopped trying.

you could feel a vibrating pulse within the sheets, it was your phone ringing at a time like this.

“hello?” he answers the phone mid-fuck. “oh well if it isn’t your little boyfriend? i’m in the middle of fucking your girl silly, clearly you haven’t been doing it right..”

his pace increases to a gruelling speed, each thrust clapping against your ass, and it was fucking loud. “fuck! satoru please—! hang uuuuuup.” your begging only fuelled the fire, you needed to know who you belong to and so did your boy toy on the other line.

gojo can’t help but chuckle pridefully, watching you impaled on his cock, but he needed to hear it. no, the sounds of you practically crying while he fucked you wasn’t enough. he wants to hear you beg for him, praise him even. like a god.

“let him hear it wifey ♡︎” he frees a hand by placing the phone next to your head.

“tell him how much,” thrust. “you need your husband’s cock.” thrust. “i fuck so much better than him don’t i ?” thrust. “awe.. you cryin’?”

“need it—! want it satoru! you’re so— hahh! —good!” he was made to torture you like this, fucking you dumb into his mattress while making you spew naughty things for him.

you could feel his speed getting aggressive. beads of sweat falling down his toned tummy to his v-line, the two of you making a sticky mess from being skin to skin. you couldn’t think, mind hazy and full of him.

“fuuuuuck, how about i stuff you full? maybe i should give you another baby, ‘nother reason to be attached to me.” the hypnosis in his voice casts you further under his spell as he grunts sweet nothings into you ear while he pounded your pussy.

“love it,” you growl into his pillows. “i love you satoru! cumming…i’m cumming, please let me cum—” you could only focus on the high washing over your body as your legs begin trembling, muscles spazzing at your arousal tipping over the edge.

your desperation is music to his ears, his lust turning uncontrollable as he assaults your cunt fucking you hard, and deep. at this rate he’ll get you pregnant.

“cum for me, cum with me— shit!” he drawls, gritted through his teeth, bottoming out in his favourite fucking pussy. this feeling will never get old, fucking you will never not be his favourite pastime.

meanwhile the overstimulation teasing your cunt made you that much wetter, and tighter for him. you couldn’t take it anymore, you need it — need his seed sopping out of you. you didn’t even care about your boyfriend who was still listening to this live porn. gojo’s rewired that wondering brain of yours. back to him, in this house, on his bed, fucking his cock.

you might just even take him back.

his pleasure builds as he pumps into your cunt a few more times, before emptying inside of you. you could feel it, cunt full of him. his body collapses on top of yours, fingers intertwining on your hands while you both catch your breath.

“she’s not coming home.” the line cuts.

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bangarangdarling · 1 year

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blame the “hitting on your mom as a punishment” tiktok i just saw that literally blew my brain up. established because they’re disgustingly in love and because i say so

Eddie would normally consider himself pretty immune to the roar of arguing teenagers. Chaos surrounds their little Party. They’re not a quiet bunch when all together. It’s all shoving and yelling, giggling and roughhousing. Carpet-burned battle scars from the floor of Steve’s living room.

Lord knows Eddie himself wasn’t an inside-voice kind of person. He was certainly wont to standing on coffee tables and screeching demands for the remote when it was unjustly stolen away by villainous hands.

Eddie loved these people to death, and they were a lot of fucking fun to hang out with, it’s just this...this was an unreal level of noise. A normal sleepover night turned a little too rowdy, the adolescents celebrating the start of Summer with a bang.

Steve had already asked them to keep it down four times this evening. Nothing seemed to calm them. Not requests. Not threats of being sent home. Usually their Dungeon Master threatening their characters’ souls did the trick, but no go.

Getting teenagers to listen? A feat more impossible than defeating creatures from an alternate universe.

Dustin and Erica were in a bitching match about the best D&D class. Lucas and Mike had been fighting over movie choices for the last half hour. Eddie’s money was on the VHS player breaking before that, the constant mishandling and shoving of tapes had the poor thing practically smoking.

Will, ever the diplomat, was trying to be an impartial party when asked his movie opinions. Which, of course, caused more yelling.

Max and El had been the only ones being semi-quiet, but that quickly ended when they followed through on their surprise attack pillow fight, pummeling the boys senseless and causing the already unbearable volume to kick into overdrive. Eddie could practically feel Steve’s migraine building, even from where the dude had retreated to the kitchen. Dinner had been pizza. Quick. Easy. Clean. Or, it would have been if it hadn’t had been for the food fight. Steve was still in there scrubbing cheese out of his parents’ tiled backsplash. Dishes clattered in the distance when the cacophony hit its crescendo.

It was the proverbial straw.

“Alright, that’s it! Hey. Come on, guys. Knock it off,”

Nothing.

“HEY!”

He maybe overdid it that time, but the absolute ear-splitting boom of a yell he let out stopped the ruckus dead.

Silence rang for a beat.

Huh. Maybe Eddie should try out incorporating that into his music. He honestly hadn’t known he could get to that range.

The teenagers in the room stared at him, not cowed in the slightest, but curious enough to know what the hell Eddie’s problem was. Max was the first one to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Geez, need attention much?”

Eddie folded his arms to show he meant business. “Steve has asked you guys to tone it down. You’re waking the fucking dead. Why don’t you guys, like, actually go be good human beings and help him clean up your mess you all made in the kitchen, huh?”

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, okay, mom. Why don’t you go help him, you guys will probably just make out in there, anyway.”

It was a teasing comment. Meant to jokingly rib before getting back to doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

But, see. That just gave him an idea.

Never let it be said Eddie couldn’t be creative with his punishments. He was a DM after all.

“Alllllllright. New plan. Listen up or suffer, ankle biters,”

He really didn’t appreciate the snickers that brought about when he was trying to be intimidating. Rude.

“You going to send us to our room or something? I’m real scared,” Erica’s scathing, dry wit was unparalleled, truly.

“Nope. Better. It’s a new rule: You little shitheads give me attitude and don’t listen, I hit on your babysitter.”

It was silent for a minute, brains audibly computing that statement and coming up ERROR. Will hesitantly spoke up.

“Uh, Eddie, I really don’t think that’s--”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Mike interrupted. “Why would you beating up Steve hurt us? I mean, like, I guess it would emotionally, but that’s fucked up, man.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, still smirking wickedly as his plan solidified. “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of hitting, young Wheeler. Though, it may yet get physical--Hey, Steve?” He called out. The sink in the kitchen shut off after a second.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here?”

The kids shuffled around on the floor warily as the other man walked into the living room. The energy had obviously shifted, it was probably an odd vibe to walk in to, but Eddie cut Steve off before he could ask any questions.

“You tired?”

“Uh, no. I’m fine--”

“It’s just you just keep on runnin’ through my mind constantly. I figured you’d be exhausted, sweetheart,” Eddie purred, the words cloyingly sweet and full of exaggerated charm.

There was a countdown, three, two, one...

A collective groan let out. A few uncomfortable laughs. “Dude, what the hell?”

“You guys agreed not to be gross in front of us!”

“Oh, my god, can I actually get sick from how cheesy that was?”

Eddie had to work at keeping in character when his very first line had pulled the intended reaction. He was already reaching forward to curl an arm around Steve, pulling him in in a slow, sultry attempt at being smooth.

“What? Can’t I be sweet on my guy? You all will understand when you’re in love one day. Right, sugar?”

Fake gags and retching sounds, too dramatic to be real protests, but still indignant and annoyed. Eddie was pretty sure Dustin slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Uh...yes?” Steve, who had previously looked like a car accident had happened directly in front of him, was catching on to the play. He eyed the disgruntled floor-children with a growing grin and let Eddie snuggle up to him.

God, his baby was so clever. He always knew what Eddie was thinking.

Too busy having a non-verbal conversation with Steve on how to best annoy the kids, Eddie didn’t see Mike turning his attention back to the tv. He did, however, hear him telling the others to “Just ignore them, they’ll get all gushy and leave us alone.”

Oh, Michael, Michael. Wrong move.

“How you doing, babygirl?” Steve flushed, deep and red and--huh. Okay. Revisiting that one in the future. “You good? You need anything? Your head hurting, sweet thing? I can kiss it better,” Eddie ducked forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. It was chaste, a sweet little thing...that Eddie made infinitely worse by the smacking, obnoxious kissy sounds he emulated there. The chorus of groans and protests started up again. He didn’t even pull his face away to call over to them.

“I’m sorry, is that attitude? Am I hearing more attitude?”

“Dude, Eddie, noooo!”

“Jesus, it’s like watching your parents make out, oh my god.”

“You guys, let’s just go already,”

“Yeah, I’ll take washing dishes over this,”

The grossed out teenagers whooshed past them. Grumbling and glaring--except Eleven, who smiled up at them sweetly--leaving Steve and Eddie standing in the living room, still wrapped up together.

It was too tempting then, with the kids safely out of range, for Eddie to resist the temptation to drop his kisses a little lower down Steve’s neck. To let them get a little less chaste. Just a little.

What can he say? He’s a weak man.

“That was evil,” Steve hummed. His shoulders dropped, though, relaxing into Eddie’s hold, the closest thing they’ve had to quiet all night settling in.

“Hey, I accomplished two things. Got them to chill out and I get the perk of feeling you up in the middle of sleepover night. It’s a win-win.”

A crash and a muffled argument broke out in the kitchen before Steve could respond to that.

The audible scuffling was cut off by Eddie calling out “Your ass looks great in these jeans tonight, Harrington!”

The fierce whispers and shushing were enough to get both of the older boys cackling loudly.

#Listen this is cheesy and poorly written but i HAD to #go find that tik tok because it was hilarious but also radiated love and healthy parenting #they called it 'gentle parenting with malicious intent' looooool #steddie #the party #my brain vomit

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bedoballoons · 7 months

Note

Fontaine, Sumeru , Inazuma boys + Zhongli and Xiao with a GN! Darling that has Newts Briefcase from fantastic beasts

Your blog looks beautiful btw

Awwe thank you so much!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Reader with a briefcase like Newts~༺}

CW: Fluffy and magical! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour)

(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Tighnari, Heizou, and Xiao!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney obviously didn't know every magic trick in Teyvat, that would be almost impossible, but he did know quite a few of them and he could usually figure out how others were done fairly quickly, but how your suitcase managed to hold a whole boar, crystalflies of every element, and tens more animals, some of which he'd never seen before, was beyond anything even he could imagine.

You'd left him speechless, mouth agape as he stared at you in awe, "Mon amour, how is this possible? How are you doing that?" You blushed slightly, seeing the way his eyes shun like that of child's when they see something magic for the first time, "I can't tell, it's a secret, but you're welcome to use it for one of your shows, just make sure to feed the scorpions, they get angry otherwise and they aren't very nice when they're angry."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

Zhongli stared at your happy face, your arms extended outwards, being used as a perch for at least 10 exotic birds...all of which had appeared from your suitcase. Originally he had assumed this was only possible because the work of an adepti, but upon closer inspection he saw no signs of adeptal power, infact it seemed completely foreign to him...which only made him more curious.

"You say it can hold as many animals as the forests of Liyue? That's certainly a incredible feat...may I asked how you've acquired such a unique and interesting treasure?" He smiled slightly at you, hoping you'd clear up the mysterious nature behind the briefcase, but you simply chuckled, "One day I'll tell you, but for now it would be far more fun to keep it a secret~"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari was sitting in front of your suitcase with his eyes glued to it like at any moment it could actually explode, not because it was somehow holding more animals than he even knew of, but from the sheer amount power such a item would have to have. In all of his days of studying at the akademiya and traveling to other lands in search of new plant varieties, he'd never seen anything like it. "Does it contains exotic plants as well? Do each of the animals have their own ecosystems? If you shut the suitcase for to long does the oxygen run out or does the suit case somehow supply oxygen? Have you ever tried to go in the suit case?"

Your eyes widened at his many questions, more and more spilling from his lips before he could stop himself...frazzling you slightly. You hadn't expected him to get so excited about it, but even with his never ending questions, it was absolutely adorable to see him this way. It was like he'd found a miracle and he wanted to learn everything about it with you.

𑁍༄Heizou:

Heizou stuck his head into your suitcase, trying to find clues as to how it worked, but the detective was more than just stumped, he was simply baffled as to how something like it could even exist. "You weren't joking when you said you wanted to show me something beyond my imagination. I've seen Onis with horns fight beetles and gods who can make the air actually buzz with emotion, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that has come close to the mystery behind this. Do you think you could live in it?"

"I suppose you could, but I'm not exactly sure. You could be the test subject if you'd like." You winked at him teasingly and he smiled up at you, almost like he was actually considering it for moment, "I think I prefer the scenery in the outside world, but we could always take a romantic vacation together inside the suitcase~" Your cheeks turned a scarlett red as he giggled at you quietly, if you teased him, it was only fair he teased back.

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao kneeled down, softly scratching the underside of a mora weasels chin, unbothered by the fact the animal had just run out of your suitcase along side a fairly massive boar. You actually seemed more surprised by his reaction than he did of your suitcase, "So what do you think hmm?"

"I think,...it reminds of the teapots us adepti sometimes use. They appear normal on the outside, but on the inside it's a island specifically designed with our comfort in mind, I've never seen a suitcase version before though.." His eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, you responded without even thinking and it flustered you to no end, "Do you have a teapot? May I see it if you do?"

"...I...don't have one, maybe, one day...we can make one together?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

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shiny-jr · 7 months

Text

outlander

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia.

Summary: In every land you travel to, there's a god with elemental powers. But why is it that in every nation you arrive to, the gods attempt to make you stay?

Note: Why has no one done a genshin x twst thing? This is more of a concept idea than anything else. I might do a series with it, or not, or just random posts. Feel free to ask about it or request stuff for it.

This must be a dream, either that or a never-ending nightmare.

Waking up alone on a sandy beach, as if washed ashore, was disorientating. There was nothing else on the shore save for shells and the occasional crab, no debris indicating a wreck and no scattered belongings. All you had on you were the clothes on your back, which were a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, your pajamas.

In the center of your palms, was a marking you had never seen before, like a freshly painted tattoo in the shape of a tiny key. As curious as the strange new markings were and you wondered how they even got there, there was a larger question looming:

How did you get here?

GRIM

There was a cat on the beach. At least, it looked like a cat. A talking feline, with gray fur and the most impossible feature of blue fire lightly simmering in his ears.

It spoke, just like a human, with a grating high-pitched voice. It was a devilish little beast, with little fangs sharper than his comebacks that he supposed were funny.

The feline pridefully announced his name: Grim.

And when you told Grim your story of how you woke up by the water's edge with no recollection of how you got here and little to your name, the creature didn't appear to care. However, when he spoke of elements being used by people and names of nations and cruel living gods you never once heard of, only then was he very vaguely intrigued. Perhaps it was amusement, as he laughed and called you stupid for not even knowing of The Seven.

That's when you heard a growl, not from behind his fangs but from his stomach. If you looked at him from the right angle, he looked quite scrawny. The poor thing was hungry, you realized.

All it took was an offering of cans of tuna found in an empty cabin nearby, and you had him in your grasp. Following you around was only temporary, he insisted, he'd go along so long as there was food. While a talking cat was not the most conventional of guides, it was better than nothing, especially since he knew basic knowledge of each nation and where the nearest sign of civilization was located.

HEARTSLABYUL

Through the winding dark woods where mysterious creatures lurked in hollow trees and dead end paths, were meadows of flowers and peaceful grooves. However, don't let the tranquillity of nature fool you. In the distance were mountains– not actually mountains, but volcanoes and hot sprints along this land's border.

It's been said that the very millions of roses and other greenery in this land, was formed when ash rained down on dry barren earth for nearly a month. Ash from those very dormant volcanoes that were the backdrop to this perfect scenery, which came in huge black clouds thousands of years ago and blanketed the earth.

A god, an archon, the deity of law that rained hell on earth over thousands of years ago.

Long ago this land was a country of criminals ruled by a god of chaos that reveled in havoc and disorder. Among the mayhem, was a small deity of fire with mighty powers and a vision for a future he was determined to see. Riddle, is what the deity was called.

Riddle gained a number of followers to listen to his words, and he created order. A small feat compared to the many wicked still running about in a lawless land ruled by a god that valued anarchy. So, using newfound strength, the deity of fire drew forth molten lava from the mouths of the northern volcanos, burning all those in its path while the deadly plumes of smoke and ash suffocated those that remained. Atop the remains of the destroyed towns and cities, he built a new nation of order for his loyal followers.

Today, it is a thriving nation filled with flowers and greenery. However, there is one issue. The god of pyro, Riddle, is a tyrant. Every law is expected to be followed without question and without fail, beheadings have become nearly a daily occurrence with the criminals often being charged with mistakingly picking flowers on Wednesdays, drinking the wrong sort of tea post-meals, or playing croquet after five pm.

You were fortunate to be spared after your audience with the god of law, for breaking the rule: one must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Before he could burn you were you stood, you interjected, answering that your companion was no cat, so you had broken no rule.

Well, he promptly apologized for the misunderstanding and in turn, offered to make up for it by inviting you to a tea party. It would be best to except his invitation, afterall, he was the same deity that buried nearly an entire country in lava and ash, then built his kingdom atop their remains. He was a tyrant that beheaded and burned people on the daily. It was wise not to get on his bad side. Besides, he appears to have taken a fancy for you. Riddle implores that you tell him more of your world while you ignore the whispers of rebellion.

There is no leaving Heartslabyul, not without the explicit permission from the god of law. The borders with their volcanoes burn any would-be invaders, allowing passage only to merchants and travelers who have received the pyro deity's blessing. Why would Riddle ever give you his blessing to see you go?

SAVANACLAW

Across the volcanoes and hot springs of the borders, the mountains turn green with dense jungles. Across the river lies the savanna where the world's most wondrous creatures run free. Times have been turbulent, the shaking ground was evidence of troubles with this nation's divine beings, or rather, now single divine being.

Earthquakes have always been a sign of something occurring either for a purpose or unintentionally by someone else. The harsher the quake, the greater the importance of the event. And not too long ago, a ginormous tremor shook the entire globe. Something of major importance had happened.

A god, an archon, the deity of intellect was the new sovereign after tragedy befell his elder brother.

In the past the land was under the protection of the god of strength, a mighty god worshipped by his people. This god had a young heir who was also beloved by the people. However, most forgot or completely disliked the younger brother of the god of strength, a deity of ground, Leona, who had a burning hated for his brother.

Leona amassed followers of his own in secret. It came as no surprise that the common and the wealthy adored the exalted god of strength. However, the poor detested him, because he offered no help to them, no matter how much they prayed and offered what little they had to his alter. Instead, their prayers for mercy and for a change in luck, were answered by the deity of ground. The change of luck came from the death of the former god and his son, paving the way for a new sovereign.

Today, there is uncertainty in the street. Many of the former worshippers of the god of strength believe in one thing. The god of geo, Leona, is unfit to rule. The poor and mistreated have emerged from hiding places in the shadows, filled with newfound confidence for their was finally a god that answered their prayers. However, there remains a growing tension between both factions. Followers of the new god sing his praises, while followers who mourn for his brother believe that everything is falling into disarray.

You were promptly introduced to the god of intellect by his followers that wished to spread the good word. There was something wrong, you and your companion both agreed. How could a powerful god of strength and his young heir just perish without warning? Something was amiss.

This was just a new follower, at least in his eyes. So he brushed you off, allowing you to partake in the best food and drink only his followers had the privilege of receiving. Testing your luck, you decided you would ask him if he knew of a way home. For now you filled him in, explaining your origins and recent adventures. For such a conniving and arrogant leader, he was surprisingly lax. It even appeared as if he wasn't even listening to your words, just dozing off on some pillows. Your words were at least more interesting to him than the rumors of possible unrest.

Perhaps he does know a way for you to return home, but he doesn't want to tell you. It's as simple as that. He likes the new follower, you. Besides, you're not going. There is always the option of traveling further, but why do so when the geo deity has what you need? Leona greatly loathes betrayal from his own worshippers, so you wouldn't leave Savanaclaw to see another god, would you?

OCTAVINELLE

In the seas dwell creatures of unimaginable horrors living deep within the watery depths, across the ocean over turbulent waves there are islands of paradise. The chain of islands composed warm southern beaches and cold northern snowlands. This may be paradise, but a toll must be paid to even get near the islands.

A tax is applied to all arriving merchants wishing to trade and tourists wishing to step foot on the island. It doesn't make much sense, until you see their towns and cities bursting with trade. Business was booming, apparently. The water is clear and pristine, you could see the vibrant coral reefs and schools of fish swimming below.

A god, an archon, the deity of contracts once came from these very waters when there was no land.

Thousands of years ago there was nothing but ocean out this far away from the mainland. That is, until a deity of water appeared from the depths. He promised a new nation to traveling merchants, so long as they worshipped him. The deity introduced himself as Azul.

Azul had grown bored of the dull happenings under the sea, for he had achieved most things beneath the waves. The ocean could not satisfy his endless greed. He had his sights set on higher elevation, with the lofty goal of being just as powerful on land as he was in the ocean. He moved waves, creating tsunamis outward but revealing islands once hidden by water. The merchants took to land and fulfilled their end of the deal, worshipping him while creating a prosperous nation of deals.

In present day, hardly anyplace can compare to the thriving hub the nation has become. However, loyal followers have begun to see his greed. The god of hydro, Azul, is a charlatan. The ocean in all its vastness was not enough to satisfy his desires, it was why he took to land. For the promise of fulfilling prayers, something always must be given in turn or the worshippers must risk going on a quest. But, it is not always as it seems. One way or another, a prayer asking for something will end in the worshipper becoming in debt to him.

In exchange for an answer to the continued question of how to return home, you have nothing to offer for payment except for ideas. Home was modern, this world was not yet on par with the technology you knew. So you offer ideas of inventions, a device to capture an image in time, a mechanism like a box with wheels, a tool to contact someone miles away.

He believes you're quite bright, you think it false flattery to deceive you but you would be wrong. Your ideas are truly brilliant, and will no doubt earn him more millions and influence in other nations on the mainland! Best to take the compliment with a smile, or else this swindler may find a way to trap you in debt. Azul insists you tell him more of your home and your lucrative ideas. Here, a contract, where he shall sell your ideas as goods and you shall reap the rewards! Whatever hearsay you've heard painting him in a bad light, is defamation! Don't fall for it so easily.

Sailing away from Octavinelle would just be a fool's quest. Unless you can escape on a boat that can weather the harshest of sea storms, there is no stepping foot off the island without the risk of drowning. Don't you have more profitable ideas to share with the hydro deity? If not, just listening to your voice would make Azul content than all the gold in the world could.

SCARABIA

Rolling sand dunes stretch as far as the eye could see, and rocky canyons border a savanna. Sandstorms fill the skies like a dark cloud, covering the dry hot land in a new layer of sand once again. Struggle through the scorching days and blistering cold nights, and there will be an oasis in the center between large flowing rivers.

Life follows the flowing waters, and an enormous oasis is planted in the center of the desert. For miles and miles along the banks, are blooming cities and towns. A great contrast to the desert outside, these settlements are overflowing with water, with the greenest gardens and greatest crops.

A god, an archon, the deity of commerce that gave life to a once barren land.

Thousands of years ago, a terrible famine struck the land. All remaining oasis had shriveled up, leading to starvation. A kind-hearted deity of earth took pity on the people. So he decided to extend a helping hand. People would call the deity Kalim.

Kalim used his abilities to create a lush environment, a vast and incredibly rich oasis out of sand in the middle of the desert. When he walked, grass and flowers sprouted from the sand. In days, he managed to create a garden of tremendous size and design, where his new followers could live in peace and luxury by the rivers. Towns and cities were developed, giving way to a grand nation where he resided in comfort and extravagance, surrounded by people that adored him.

Now there is a grand metropolis where there is just as much gold in the markets as there are flowers. The god of dendro, Kalim, is naive. For thousands of years he has been sheltered and treasured by his people. He is oblivious and clumsy, but at the same time he is not foolish. He knows of the people that have attempted to use his abilities for sinister purposes. Although, no one could guess a conniving being plotting against him, resides in his very own palace.

Exciting adventures and thrilling tales, the god of commerce loves to hear your stories of the outside world! First time foreigners are welcomed with open arms, but you are treated as a rare guest with your unique origin. This might just be the most peaceful land you had ever traveled to.

Come, partake in the celebrations! It's easy to forget that such a laidback and cheerful personality belongs to that of a deity that gave life to this region of the desert. Dance, chat, he wishes to do it all with you! The brightness of the fireworks and lively atmosphere is nearly enough to drown out the presence in the shadows you see from the corner of your eyes. A figure with a piercing gaze, watching the jolly divine being with envy in their eyes. With a power as tempting as his, there would be those wishing to snatch it. Kalim distracts you, offering more food and drink with a smile sweeter than any flower.

Why would anyone ever wish to leave this garden that was Scarabia? The outside, the desert and canyons, were harsh and unforgiving. The god of commerce did not wish to see you risk traveling and getting hurt. The dendro deity invites you to stay in the city! Surely you could be happy here with Kalim, right?

POMEFIORE

On elevated lands, between mountains and hills, were endless forests in which travelers often vanished in or were discovered frozen. A winter wonderland, although this wasn't so delightful. It was beautiful, but a deadly kind of beautiful, where you risked being chased by mysterious beasts or becoming lost in blizzards.

The snow may be pure, it may look picturesque upon frozen lakes and lines of white trees, but looks are deceiving. This was once a serene land with a temperate climate, but it has only gotten colder and colder in more recent months until there was not a single spot of green to be seen.

A god, an archon, the deity of curses who was so bitter like the cold that he caused snow to fall all year round.

Stories have told that the land was once warm in springs and summers, only growing cold whenever the divine being was cross. They were frighteningly beautiful and terrifyingly powerful, regal as royalty but at times wrathful. Vil, is what the deity was referred to.

Vil became envious of an emerging figure, so he invoked powerful blizzards and storms. In recent generations, there have been a growing number of his people breaking off into a separate faction that worshipped a younger compassionate god of healing. Enraged by the betrayal of some followers and resentful with biting jealously, many knew that it was only a matter of time before he would snap. This frightening divine being would not accept being dethroned, he would not allow himself to be demoted in the people's hearts.

Civilization continued to thrive, even despite the never-ending snow. And yet, people cannot help but worry what may happen if the cold doesn't let up by spring. The god of cryo, Vil, was pretentious. Anyone who openly voices their distaste for him or a preference for the god of healing, can expect to be encased in ice and used as a display. No one dares to even utter the name of his rival, for fear of incurring his wrath.

Misfortune brought you before the god of curses' throne. Mistakingly his followers had believed you to be worshippers of the god of healing, which you insisted not to know of. You had simply been lost. Maybe it was your gawking at his ethereal appearance, or the compliment you murmured under your breath, but you were not frozen a punishment.

He decided to interrogate you himself, and through his stern questioning you found yourself a nervous mess as you answered honestly but blabbered far too much. Maybe this deity was amused, much like a king would find humor in a pathetic little jester. The divinity that froze nonbelievers into statues for his palace, found you quite endearing. Vil even once smiled at you when you spoke of inconsequential things, warming his heart to which the clouds carrying snow broke apart if for a moment, causing his followers to go into a frenzy fueled by hope.

When leaving Pomefiore is so much as even mentioned, all exits will be frozen shut by the god of curses. Why even venture outside the palace, when you have earned the favor of the cryo deity? Perhaps the land is warmer, but the neighboring nation is dangerous and he forbids the journey. Why would anyone leave after finally melting Vil's icy cold heart?

IGNIHYDE

A forest of dead trees serves as an ominous welcome, or perhaps it was an omen warning incoming travelers. Slopes gave way to valleys, and along the coasts was a heavy mist that painted the vision gray. Homes and buildings, magnificent temples and crumbling feats of architecture, appeared to be floating in white clouds, but in reality they were situated on cliffsides thick with fog.

In the center of the dying forest, there are ruins of a grand temple once belonging to a god that met a tragic end. However, its remnants are closely guarded by mysterious creatures of air that cannot be touched. Legends say the temple was once a place of worship for a fledgling god related to the main god the nation worships today.

A god, an archon, the deity of innovation that has never once shown his face to the public.

Thousands of years ago, a pair of divine beings appeared. They went largely unnoticed for many years, until their brilliant inventions brought awe to those around them, attracting worshippers and diminishing the power of other local gods. The one remaining brother from this pair, is a deity known as Idia.

Idia created wondrous inventions, unintentionally forming a nation of inventors in the process. Withdrawn, dark, and silent, he is quite the unconventional god and yet he begrudgingly rules nonetheless. As reserved as he may be, he is feared among divinity. All lesser gods aiming for his spot are quickly wiped out by his inventions, without him so much as lifting a finger and using his own abilities. They're reduced to mere memories, as nothing is left of them. In times of old, it was once believed that he was a harbinger of death.

On decent days, the sun may shine on the coast, but most days there are heavy clouds and fog. The god of anemo, Idia, is an enigma. Most think him a ghost, for never appearing and for his abilities. The highest families, the most brilliant inventors, even other divine beings may request an audience, but he will never show. No one has ever seen him, all that's known is he is a figure shrouded in black robes like a grim reaper. There are others who believe there are double, because two figures have been spotted once.

You become the first to see his face purely by accident. It seemed he was just as startled of you, as you were of him. Thankfully, you were not going to be blown off the face of the planet by hurricane-level winds. No other god would help, in fact, they wished to keep you here. So you had to turn to him for assistance in finding a way home.

It was only by promising that he could pet Grim, a deal to which the feline disagreed to, did the god reluctantly hear you out. After your explanation, he scoffed as if looking at a simple equation like 2 + 2. Of course he knew the answer, but he wouldn't give out the assistance you needed. The deal was to hear you out, not help you out. He'd become quite bold in the private conversation, a sharp contrast to his previous anxious demeanor. There was no arguing against he who could slaughter gods with a snap of his fingers. Although you aren't as intolerable as other mortals, this he admits.

Departing from Ignihyde is highly unlikely, given how dense the fog is. You cannot even see the ground you're walking on. While, yes, the anemo deity hasn't assisted you, he will, eventually, probably, maybe... You're the first mortal Idia has ever asked to stay, so why would you turn your back to him?

DIASOMNIA

A wall of impenetrable thorns stands in the way, magically opening and creating a clear-cut path through dense forbidding forests lively with critters. The thorn walls close, effectively trapping you. There was something different. It was unlike all the previous nations, the very air itself felt off. With every step deeper into these whimsical woods, it felt as if you were not alone.

Once upon a time, there was a dragon. No one knows how long the dragon has been alive, only that even the oldest tales say he was already ancient way back when. Valleys were shaped by his claws, the rivers from his tail, rare ore came from his fallen scales buried in the earth, the tallest mountains were but small hills to him.

A god, an archon, the deity of dreams is by far the most powerful and most ancient of all divinity in the world.

Peace was his personal preference, as he enjoyed new company which he never truly received due to his fearsome reputation. However, when other divinity sought out his destruction and his home, the deity of electricity raged. Destruction was left in his wake across the entire globe, and everyone came to know the name Malleus.

Malleus commanded thorns to be raised like walls protecting his home, and constant violent storms to ward off anyone threatening to cause trouble. For hundreds of years, no foreigner was allowed to step foot within the nation's boundaries. Anyone that tried would quickly be reduced to ash, and just a number added to the untold amount he's slayed in order to protect himself and his territory. Kind he may be to his own, but to foes he is merciless. With his black horns and piercing eyes, some refer to him as a devil incarnate.

A land unseen by outlanders, it's peaceful and magical in it's beauty. However, it seems that while your presence may be surprising, it is not a shock. You're taken by knights in gray and black, escorted away. The god of electro, Malleus, has invited you to his castle. There is astonishment and disbelief in people's eyes, a foreigner alive and well. Most like you would have been reduced to particles before they could even step foot past the thorns.

Much to your horror, or relief, once you're brought to the god of dreams, he seems delighted to have you here. It seems your presence was expected, as all he said was, "So you've finally come to see me, hm? I was beginning to grow concerned that perhaps I would have been left out of your list of destinations."

This was the last option, the only one you could turn to in finding a way home. Surely, the most ancient and powerful deity would hold the answer and assist you, since he had been so kind as to allow you inside his nation. Although as welcoming as he may be, you must remember that despite his fang-toothed smile and the twinkle in his eyes, this man– no, god, was archaic and all-powerful. He must have killed more people than you will ever know, wiped out whole armies and flattened entire nations. Malleus tilts his head at you, requesting that you recount your tale, with every minute detail.

This will be the end, there will be no escaping Diasomnia. Of course, you shall not know until later. For now, the god of dreams delights in your stories. You were the first guest he's had in thousands of years, and one of the few who did not wish to slay the legendary dragon that was the electro deity. Malleus knows what you desire, he has seen it in your dreams. However, he will not be kind and grant you what you sought. If he did, then what he desired would then vanish: you.

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azsazz · 7 months

Text

Midnight Muse

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,804

Notes: This is going to be a good one you guys 💙 (yes I know I have a fic titled this already but it’s too good not to reuse, they’re not related btw)

_________________________________________

“I think that’s the last one,” you sigh, setting down a cardboard box labeled Living Room on the stack in the middle of the floor. It’s not heavy—filled with decorative pillows for the cheap futon couch shoved haphazardly against the wall—but the tower of boxes sways precariously and your roommate, Feyre, darts forward to reorganize them from before they all go tumbling down.

You and your roommate had been very organized at the start of your move, putting boxes into piles for which rooms they belonged to, but as the hot sun beamed down and the temperature outside rose, so did your tempers. The process ended with trying to get everything into your new fourth floor apartment as quickly as possible, which was a nearly impossible feat, due to the slow moving elevator.

Feyre sighs, hands on her hips as she surveys the mess of boxes. Neither of you packed lightly—a mistake you’d made the year previous too, and promised not to make again—the both of you refused to hire a moving service, intent on the fact that you could do all the heavy lifting yourselves.

That definitely had been a mistake.

Panting a little, Feyre shoves the strands of gold-brown hairs clinging to her forehead away, sticky with sweat. The hairs at her nape curl away from her neck, and you’re so glad that she grew out those awful bangs over the summer. Now you don’t have to listen to her complain about how they’d be plastered to her head with sweat. The loose collar of her cropped shirt is damp, and she uses the hem to wipe at the perspiration beading at her hairline. “Fucking finally,” she moans, “I need a drink.”

“Alcoholic or energy?” you tease, but it’s not funny. You’re drained, and all you want to do is collapse on the navy futon that barely fits two, no matter how uncomfortable it is. But you’re hot, clothes irritating your skin from where they’re glued with sweat and your arms and legs burn with effort. A cold shower, tall glass of something icy, and a few hours napping will do you well. A grimace works its way onto your red face, “Tell me there’s air conditioning in this place.”

“Already on,” Feyre sighs, stalking into the kitchen. You follow after her, dodging boxes, and watch as she rips open the refrigerator door and shoves her head inside. It’s completely empty and you wince, knowing that it’s going to be a long weekend while you go shopping and unpack everything before the fall semester starts in a week.

You want to stop by the local art supply too, to gather the last of the material you need for your classes this year. It’s probably why you and Feyre have so many boxes; half of the ones adorning your apartment are stuffed with art supplies: brushes and paints of all varieties from oils to acrylics, graphite pencils and kneaded erasers, canvases both blank and filled. You swear there’s even an entire box dedicated to sketchbooks filled with random doodles and scribbled ideas for assignments that never turned into anything great. Feyre hadn’t been happy when she’d seen you’d left that box for her to carry up.

When Feyre’s had her fill of the crisp air, she hands you a bottle of water from the freezer. It’s nowhere near as cold as you’d like it yet. You’d run into the gas station to get a few bottles and candy bars while she filled up the tank of the U-Haul for your last stretch or the drive. It hadn’t occurred to either of you to grab something with more sustenance until this very moment.

“Ugh,” you groan, choking down the room-temperature water. It helps a little to soothe your parched throat, but nowhere near enough. “Do you have any money left in your account? We should Door Dash something for dinner, and call it an early night.”

“An early night?” Feyre retorts, making a face as she takes a sip of her own water. “We have a lot of unpacking to do. And our beds aren’t even set up yet.”

“Fuck us,” you sigh, leaning against the marble. The stone is cool where it seeps through your thin shirt, and you ache to rip off your clothing and press your burning skin to it in an attempt to cool yourself off. “Let’s just find the boxes with the pillows and blankets and sleep in the living room, Fey. C’mon, it’ll be like when we were young again! Except now we’re old enough to buy alcohol.” You waggle your eyebrows at your roommate and she cracks a wry grin. “Well, almost old enough, but those fake ID’s Tarquin got us work like a charm anyway.”

“Fine,” Feyre relents, “Dibs on first shower, though.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

While Feyre uses all of the hot water, despite it being nearly ninety degrees outside—blasphemous for the end of August in the middle of Southern California—you take the chance to move the U-Haul from where you’d double-parked it outside of your new apartment building. Thankfully, you and Feyre had saved up enough money from working at an Art Camp for children this summer to have both of your cars shipped to school. It was cheaper to rent a truck and move all of your belongings yourselves than to drive down and let a moving company do it, plus, you and Feyre had wanted to road trip this summer but didn’t have the funds. You both had decided there was no better time for it—until you could properly afford one—than this.

You scroll aimlessly through your social media on the way down, the elevator so slow and creaky that you and Feyre opted to take the stairs for most of your journey. Bigger things like your beds, the futon, and the tv had been squashed into the tiny elevator and taken up with prayers it wouldn’t break down. You can’t help but glance up at the certificate that says the elevator is in running order until its next inspection in two years.

“Is that forged, George Brown?” you mutter, squinting at the paper displayed in the corner. It’s frayed at the edges and yellowing, so you’re not all that sure this elevator has been inspected when it says it has.

It comes to a jerky halt that makes you sway when it hits the lobby. It’s as nice a building as you can afford on your budget, but the both of you will have to find part-time jobs as soon as school starts up, so that you have money to buy alcohol and food and supplies. Feyre’s older sister, Nesta, had lived here with her friends Gwyn and Emerie during their undergrad years, but they’ve moved on from shitty apartment buildings riddled with horny college students to renting a quaint house in town while working on their masters degrees.

When the doors to the elevator slide open you slip out as fast as possible, a shudder working its way up your spine. You wonder how many times it’s broken down, and you’d hate to be in there alone if something like that happened. Maybe you’ll take the stairs from now on unless you’re with someone.

The lobby of the building is small. There’s a front desk in which no one ever sits, as if the building used to be sophisticated once upon a time and a doorman used to occupy the space. Mailboxes pinned to the wall line the area behind the counter, and there sits a garbage can stuffed full with envelopes and more likely than not empty bottles of alcohol and take-away, maybe even a used condom or two.

It’s muggy down here, more so than your apartment that the landlord hadn’t turned on the air conditioning when he knew you’d be showing up today. Whatever, you hadn’t had to see the greasy man, he’d left the keys on the counter for you and Feyre to find when you’d arrived, and you were more than thankful for that.

You brush away some of the hairs that have come loose from your ponytail as you cross the lobby. The hazards of the U-Haul are blinking at a steady rate, the skies turning darker with the looming night. It had taken you and Feyre all day to unpack the truck, and you’re returning it tomorrow when your cars come in, so you need to move it to a normal spot for the night.

Pushing open the door, your steps falter as someone brushes past you like a shadow, nearly hitting your shoulder with theirs. Your brows furrow and you turn to toss a comment about how rude they are but the words dry up in your throat.

He’s tugging off a motorcycle helmet and you can’t help but watch the way his biceps bulge against his skin tight black t-shirt. The muscles of his broad back glide like butter beneath the fabric as he moves and you can’t help but let your gaze travel down his spine to his tight waist, dipping into dark jeans.

His thick soled boots thump loudly as he stalks through the door, stopping at the mailboxes to check if he has any letters. The tiny door opens with a squeak that has you snapping back into your body, stunned by his musculature. This man is a god of his own league. A masterpiece of perfectly crafted body parts and tones. He has an angular nose and long, dark lashes matching his disheveled hair. He runs his fingers through it and shoves the helmet under his armpit as he digs through his mailbox. Your fingers twitch to dig out your sketchbook and pencils from the box upstairs.

You force your gaze outside again, cheeks red hot with embarrassment. You were straight up ogling the man, and thankfully you’re not drooling, as you take notice while you wet your suddenly dry lips.

You click the keys, unlocking the U-Haul, but stop short when you see that the truck is caged in, a big vintage Bronco parked behind, and a shiny motorcycle that looks like it moves faster than the speed of light wedged between the moving truck and the vehicle in front.

“Hey,” you call, ripping the door back open to the lobby. You have no doubt that the motorcycle is his, and the car behind had been there when you and Feyre had arrived this afternoon, so you don’t know whom it belongs to. “Is this your motorcycle?”

The man is already on his way to the elevator, phone stable in his leather riding gloves as he swipes, envelopes tucked into his helmet. The elevator door screeches open and he doesn’t even bother to turn around and meet your gaze as he punches the button to his floor. “Nope.”

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #art school au #acowar #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #azriel #midnight muse #acotar series

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mariasont · 25 days

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Office Sleepover 2 - A.H

a/n: had sm fun writing this one yall

im so down bad for him ugh

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part three here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader flashes hotch AGAIN, drinking on government property lmao, drunk reader, suggestive comments

wc: 3.2k

You were restless, to put it simply. Every conceivable activity within the BAU had been exhausted, and you had explored every nock and cranny of the office, leaving no corner untouched. At this point they should start paying you for tour guides because you'd be an expert.

You were bored, frankly, and lonely--the team had been on a case all week and you were stuck here. How Garcia managed was beyond you--the walls seemed to close in on you as stir craziness took hold. You kept busy with work, offering as much help as possible while staying put, but it really wasn't the same.

You missed the team, and a particular member's absence you felt just a tad more, though you wouldn't admit it. Thankfully, they were supposed to be back any second now. While Penelope had a special place in your heart, the thought of sitting through another round of her and Kevin's awkward flirting was almost too much to bear. Without Hotch to keep it in check, it was all the more excruciating.

"Bye, Kevin," you chimed in unison, your voices intertwining just as the door clicked shut behind him.

Once you were sure he wasn't coming back, you shot Pen a knowing glance, arching an eyebrow as you pointed one of her fuzzy pens at her.

"Ease up on the death stare, will ya?" Penelope chided, as she wheeled her chair back to her computers, her finger twirling towards you. "You get so broody when the boss man's gone."

You lobbed the pen in Penelope's direction. "No," you replied with a huff. "I get broody when the whole team leaves me behind."

"Gasp," Penelope declared, placing a hand over her heart. "Can you believe it? They're genuinely concerned for your well-being. The audacity!"

"Okay, but seriously, what's the bigger priority here--my life or my sanity? Because it's a fine line," you said with a shrug, pushing your chair back dramatically.

But, before the chair could gain any momentum, you found yourself abruptly against the wall, your head cushioned by an unexpected softness. Without a moment to comprehend, your chair was spun, your eyes growing impossibly wide as Hotch's belt appeared abruptly in your line of sight. You raised your eyes to meet his.

"Your life, I would wager," he said evenly, "but then again, I might be a little biased."

You sprang to your feet, too quickly, your foot catching, sending you lurching forward. Almost instantly, Hotch's hand was securing around your arm, preventing you from landing straight on your face.

"Oh, Hotch, sir, hi," you said, flustered and slightly disoriented. "I didn't realize you guys were back."

"We just got back," he said, his hand falling away from your arm, and you hated yourself for how you felt a subtle coolness that replaced the comforting heat of his touch. "Do you have those reports I asked for?"

"Oh, absolutely, they're ready at my desk," you assure. "I'll bring them to your office in a sec."

As he nods and exits, your scoop up your belongings from Penelope's desk, raising a finger. "Don't even say it, Pen."

You ignored the way she cackled as you left, moving to your desk to grab the needed papers. You attention was captured by Spencer and Emily standing by her desk. Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around them both, pressing them against you.

"Ugh, I missed you guys so much."

They both laugh, their hands taking you in quickly as you lean against them.

Emily grins, ruffling your hair as she nudges you. "A week away and you're this clingy? We'll have the start weaning you off us, huh?"

"Don't tease," Spencer starts, his hand resting on your shoulder, "But out of curiosity, how many times did you check our desks while we were gone?"

"Too many times to count," you admit begrudgingly, a sheepish grin on your face. As you glance up, your eyes catch Hotch's through the glass pane. "Oops, almost forgot why I came down here."

Approaching Hotch's office, you tap on the door frame and enter. "Here ya go, sir." you offer, extending the documents toward him.

Your fingers lightly touch as he takes the papers, and for a moment, you're rooted to the spot, the brief contact sparking a surge of disarray in your senses. God, it's almost beyond belief that one man could have this kind of effect on you.

Hotch nods his acknowledgement. "Thanks," he murmurs. As you pivot to leave, he adds, "Could you sit down for a moment?"

You cast a teasing look over your shoulder. "I hope I'm not in trouble," you say. His expression doesn't change. "Wait, am I? Because that would definitely be enough to push me over the edge, sir."

"No, you're not in trouble," Hotch assures you. "I've received updates concerning your case."

You lowered yourself into the chair, hands perched in your lap, your eyes wide as you met his gaze. "Please tell me it's good news because I'm starting to forget what my own bed feels like."

"You've been here just over a week," Hotch states, matter-of-fact.

You blow out a breath, arms crossed over your chest. "Hotch, it's scary at night."

He clears his throat, "Anyway, it's good news. We've got a lead on the hitman, though it's not the all-clear you're wanting."

"Well, that's something at least," you concede with a nod. "But I don't get why I can't be involved in this investigation."

As Hotch opens his mouth, you jump in, deepening your voice to copy his. "Because you're too close to it."

He regards you steadily, clearly not amused.

"Yup, okay, I'm done, sorry, I'm leaving now," you relent, getting to your feet quickly and striding towards the door, but a hand beats you to it, closing it abruptly and effectively barricading you in.

With a quick turn, you ended up flush against the door, Hotch's hand resting against the wood just above your ear. You felt like you were short-circuiting, your eyes growing wide as they met his. He says your name, but it doesn't quite register--too engrossed in the heady scent of his cologne, the pressing warmth of his body, the nearness of his chest, so close that an inch's movement could mean a soft kiss to his neck. Not like that would be totally inappropriate or anything.

"What?"

"I said, I'm worried about you."

You wanted to kiss him, man, you really wanted to kiss him. You bit the inside of your cheek to refrain from doing so.

"Why?"

It was barely audible, more air than sound, not daring to disturb the space too much, afraid of him suddenly becoming aware of just how close he was.

"You're very quick to make light of things, to make jokes, but I'm asking you to be real with me here. What are you feeling?"

His hand left the door, settling on your shoulder, his thumb hovering just shy of the hollow of your neck. Unconsciously, you found yourself leaning into the gentle pressure.

"That sounded sarcastic, Hotch," you noted, your tongue briefly sweeping across your lips, which seemed to dry out as you talked. "You're not implying my jokes need work, are you?"

His lack of response and narrowing eyes made you cave.

"Okay, fine, Hotch. You want the truth? I'm scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I have nightmares every night? That I can't sleep?"

Your breaths came faster, teeth meshing tightly as you stared up at your boss. His hand found your cheek, his thumb sketching a path across your skin that ignited a trail of goosebumps over your whole body, making you hyper-aware of your every pore.

"What can I do to help?"

Stay with you, kiss you, fuck you--numerous thoughts ran raced through your thoughts, but none of them seemed wholly appropriate.

"N-Nothing, Hotch, really, I'm okay. It's not something that can be fixed, which is why I didn't say anything. Plus, everyone on this team has been through worse. I can handle it. I'm tougher than I look."

"I know you are, but I—," his words were cut short, a sudden knock at the door silencing him mid-sentence.

His hands fell away from you, but the sensation lingered, the heat of his touch seeming to brand you, marking where he had been. You ran a hand through your hair in an attempt regain some form of composure, just as he opened the door to reveal JJ.

Her eyes darted between the two of you, finally focusing on Hotch. "Sorry, guys, I have that footage from the press conference--is that what you needed?"

"Yes, right." Hotch nodded, pulling the door open further for her, then returning his attention to you, observing your flushed cheeks and uneven breath. "We'll continue this later, okay?"

"Yeah," you exhaled sharply before ducking out of the room.

You need to get a grip, or maybe a Xanax, probably both.

Once the office had emptied, leaving you alone, you sat pitifully on your bed. It was Friday, but there was not much cause for celebration when you were stuck here, surrounded by stale office air. You sprawled out on the mattress, tracing the patterns of the popcorn ceiling overhead. If someone didn't figure out this hitman situation, you were going to take him out yourself.

Not really, that would definitely be a death wish. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of muffled shuffling outside your door. Sitting up, you slid into your slippers and stepped out into the hallway.

"There she is!"

You snickered as Penelope extended her arms with jazz hands, while JJ and Emily lifted their arms to show off their wine stash. Gratefully grabbing a glass from Emily, you pulled them all into a group hug. "I can't help but feel like we're about to be the subject of a very specific memo from HR after this."

Giggles from JJ accompanied the wine pouring as you stepped back. "Hotch is surprisingly on board we this—encouraged it even. Can you believe it?"

Warmth dusted over your cheeks at the thought. You wanted to kiss him even more, if that was even possible.

"Trust me," Penelope insisted, shaking her head as she paused for a drink. "I wouldn't dare cross HR again. Once was more than enough."

You wanted to say you were a classy gal, confident in your ability to drink responsibly--it was only wine, after all, not Everclear. But as the night went on, your voice rose a decibel too high, your balance a bit unreliable, and your displays of affection way too unrestrained.

You were already a touchy person, ask any of your team members, but with a few drinks, you're giving high school sweethearts a run for their money in the PDA department.

Your arms were flung around JJ's neck, peppering her cheek with kisses as you sang along to whatever music Pen was playing in between smooches. JJ was laughing, tilting backward on her heels, nearly knocking you both over.

"I love you guys. So so much." you said, each word stretched and muddled as you reached out to Penelope, who happily linked her fingers with yours.

"You are so drunk!" Emily accused, her palms squishing your face as she chuckled.

"'M not," you protested, words stifled by compressed cheeks.

She freed your face to grab more wine, Penelope not far behind, as you situated yourself on your desk chair.

"You know who I also love?" you questioned to no one in particular as you slid your phone out of your back pocket. "Morgan, Reid, Dave, and--,"

You paused, your nose crinkling as you bit down hard on your tongue.

"And?" Penelope pressed, brows raised as she looked at you expectedly.

"Hmm?" You hummed innocently, blowing a kiss her way as you shrugged off her question. "I'm gonna call Morgan."

Your eyes darted down to your phone, only to find the room swirling like a carousel. It took a heartbeat to register--someone's voice was already coming from the speaker.

"Hello? Morgan? How'd you know I was going to call you?"

"It's Hotch."

Your eyes grew comically large, a hand flying over your mouth, smothering the laughter that threatened to fall. "Hotch! It is so late! Why are you calling me?"

You shushed the group with a finger to your lips, the girls' curious eyes on you as JJ practically crawled towards you to eavesdrop.

"You called me." He paused. "Are you okay?"

"Hotch," his name was more of a whine than anything as you tossed your head back. "I'm fine, like, the definition of A-Okay. I'm with my friends and we're all kinds of okay."

You shot Emily a thumbs up.

"Good. Okay." Another pause. "Maybe drink some water, yeah? No more wine."

You gasped. "Agent Hotchner, I am a federal agent of the government. I know when I should be cut off."

"Oh, my god, get her off the phone."

You don't know who said it, but it sent you spiraling into another round of giggles, the phone slipping through your fingers while JJ pounced on it.

"Hey!"

She held up a hand, keeping the device just out of reach.

"Yeah, she's pretty drunk." JJ said, then frowned. "Hotch, listen she's more of a lightweight than we realized." You slumped against the chair. "Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."

JJ ended the call and placed it back into your hands. "I cannot wait until you remember this in the morning," she sang, before casting a glance to the others. "Also, a heads-up--Will's almost here."

"No!" It came out louder than intended, almost a shout, as you stood, sending Spencer's pens tumbling. "Whoopsie." You latched onto Penelope, murmuring, "Stay here, don't leave me."

Penelope's laughter rang out, her hands cradling your head. "Worry not, I've set the security guy straight--if you get even a scratch, I'll make him regret the day he was born."

"See, this is why you're my favorite," you whispered.

"Heard that."

Will eventually texted JJ, letting her know he had arrived. As the they waited by the elevator, the doors slid open to reveal Hotch standing there. A squeal escaped you, matched by his single raised eyebrow surveying your condition.

Your cheeks were painted a rosy tint, hair in a delightful tangle, and your shirt hanging askew off your shoulder--you were an adorable spectacle of disorder, and he found himself suppressing the small smile that threatened to reveal his amusement as the other girls filed into the elevator.

He had made them promise not to leave until he got there, not keen on the idea of you being left alone like this. It might have been an exaggeration, but when you butt dialed him and he heard the sound of your slurred speech it had him envisioning all sorts of worst-case scenarios. Sure, he had seen you drink during team nights out, but nothing like this.

"Hotch!" You shouted, moving to him with a rapidity that might be, well definitely, was ill-advised.

He stood motionless as you looped your arms around his neck. You smelled so nice--a sweet hint of vanilla instead of the anticipated alcohol. After a brief hesitation, his hands slowly found their way to your waist.

"What are you doing here, silly?" You ask, pulling back just enough to see his face. "Wait a second, please don't say we have a case."

A subtle smile played on his face, his hand not budging from your back. "No, there's no case."

"Oh, good," you murmured, your head bobbing lightly in approval. The light touch of your fingers at the base of his neck spread a warmth through him. "You want a drink? I think there's still some wine left."

"No, I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat and taking a step back. "I think you need to get to bed."

Your hands lingered at his neck, softly exploring his hair as you looked up with a smile that made his pulse race unexpectedly.

"Is that an order as my boss or a suggestion as my friend?"

He raised his brow. "Both?"

"Well, okay," you shrugged as you took a step back. "Wanna see my room? I don't think you've seen it yet. Everyone else has."

Without giving him a chance to object, you dashed down the hallway. He trailed behind with reluctance, knowing just how dangerous this could be for him. He was all too aware that he shouldn't be here, let alone in your room in your current, wine-fueled state.

You fumbled for the light, fingers slipping before finding the switch as you stumbled into the cramped room. It was pink. Very pink. The pullout couch was lost beneath a mountain of pillows, excessive by any standard. Your closet was bursting, and a collection of gadgets and gizmos had overtaken the room, but he liked it, a lot.

Your collapse onto the bed sent pillows scattering to the floor, his mind wandered about the unseen details of your bedroom at home, and even more so, the thought of what a shared space between you two might look like.

A sigh escaped him as he stood over you. "How about changing into your pajamas first, hm?"

"No thank you."

"You're going to hate yourself if you wake up in jeans tomorrow."

"Fine." You pouted, propping yourself up on your elbows. "Top right drawer please."

He shot you a look but obliged anyway. There was something about that puckered out bottom lip that made him think he'd do just about anything you asked, like he was putty in your hands. Pulling out the most conservative pair of pajamas from the sparse selection, he made a mental note to ask about that later.

"Thank you," you said with a smile. He really liked your smile. "You know, you're really such a nice person, Hotch. Or—Can I call you Aaron? Just tonight?"

He felt a sudden emptiness in his chest as the air was knocked out. "You can call me Aaron. Just tonight."

A high-pitched squeal escaped you as you began shedding your clothes. He offered a stifled cough, quickly averting his gaze and nudging the door closed with his free hand.

"Well, Aaron," you said plainly, "I really like you."

The effort it took for him not to pivot on his heel was immense, particularly when your voice sweetened like honey at the mention of his name.

"You're a great boss."

"I like you too, Agent."

"No, you don't, well, I mean—you can turn around now," you said. "You like me, but I really like you. It's not the same."

As he turned to face you, he could sense his cock twitching in his pants, a physical reaction to the sight of you fumbling with your shirt, your tits exposed in full view, as if begging to be touched.

"Christ," he hissed, gripping the ends of your shirt and yanking down. He was sure you were going to hate yourself in the morning. "You're not making sense, and I think you need to sleep it off."

"Yeah," you replied, your eyes warmly meeting his as you gave him a lopsided smile. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in such casual clothes, Aaron. You look very handsome."

He needed to get you to bed before he did something he'd regret. He softly nudged your shoulders backward, offering no verbal response. You surrendered to the motion with complaint, your remaining strength insufficient for anything else.

Softly, he settled to blankets around you, taking a moment to study you, with the intention of memorizing you completely (even the part of you that was far too drunk).

"Goodnight, Aaron."

He summoned all his restraint to keep from crashing his lips into yours. He smoothed back your hair, allowing himself that as he shot you a tired smile. "Goodnight."

He hadn't even touched the doorknob when your plea reached his ears. "Aaron, I—, will you stay with me?"

And who was he to deny you anything?

next part!

taglist: @chronicallybubbly

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #Spotify

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 2 months

Text

I'm falling so badly, I'm coming apart

Things you do that make them fall deeper in love with you ♡

feat. Ace and Deuce

I write the reader as female

Masterlist

Ace Trappola

When you not only indulge in his whims but actively and happily encourage him

He teases you by asking you to be his cheerleader during a basketball game and you take him on by appearing in the front row of the stand, carrying a huge banner with his name over your head and loudly yelling his name for the whole island to hear

You his heart race and face flush for reasons that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of the match as he jogs over to you and plants a kiss onto your lips, smiling as he hears your breathless gasp and feels your hands interlock around his neck, pulling you closer in front of the whole gymnasium

Or when he’s goofing around, fully expecting you to give him that endeared but exasperated look he adores only to find that you - the responsible, reliable and hard working prefect - are goofing around with him

And it fills him with such unimaginable euphoria, when he sees the childlike sparkle in your eyes as you beam at him and his antics, when you mirror his teasing grin and play off of him so perfectly it’s like your souls were intertwined

It just makes him feel so fluttery that you love him not despite his flaws but also with his flaws

Sure it does hurt a little, when he hears whispers about how tough it must be for you to be babysitting dating such a tactless troublemaker, at how horrible it must be to settle for someone who could only bring you down when you have so many other admirers that are much better suited for you, but when you look so beautiful wearing his clothes, laugh at his jokes, smile so genuinely that your face glows so ethereally, all his worries get pushed to the side

When others would roll their eyes and mutter about him being his usual obnoxious self, you smile at him all soft and gentle, like you can see past his cocky exterior and right into his heart which has your name engraved inside it

And when you bless him with that loving gaze, eyes brimming with pride as you throw your arms around him in an embrace, saying his name so sweetly he fully understands why sailors would willingly drown themselves whenever sirens would whisper a syllable, when you proudly stand next to him as you call him your boyfriend or refer to yourself as his girlfriend, he knows

He knows that your heart has his name on it as well

Deuce Spade

When you love both sides of him

He can’t help the rosiness that blooms over his nose and cheeks when you coddle his soft side; making him adorable bento boxes and omurice meals, when you smile so dearly when he prattles on about his day, when you gift him bouquets of flowers and plush chicks despite his pouty insistence on that being his job, when you take time out of your already overloaded schedule to study with him and not getting the slightest bit annoyed at his slow uptake (instead choosing to praise him for every correct answer), when you drown him in affection for every good grade, every track and field win, every time he feels like his dream of being an honour student isn’t as impossible as he initially thought

When you show just how proud you are of his change for the better, just how much you believe in him

And also when you’re not only unperturbed by his shameful delinquent side that he still fights to keep at bay, but you also dote on it, lovingly bandaging his bruised knuckles, your gentle eyes staring right into his as you press soft kisses against plasters and bandages that he swore he would never wear again (though the baby chicks decorating the plasters you carry around in your bag aren’t exactly as unappealing as the old bandages his younger self would proudly parade)

When you don’t even hesitate to press your lips against his cheeks or mouth when he inevitably slips up and spits out gruff curses, lowers his voice with a growl lets a threatening snarl pull at his lips as he clenches his fist, hackles raised and ready to strike, only stopping himself when he feels your hand make its home in his - and, well, your pecks don’t exactly stop his subsequent self hatred and guilt but it certainly does

Though he does feel some shame for it, he feels absolutely enamored in you wearing his old leather jacket. He swore that useless old thing could bring back nothing but horrid memories of fights and tears but seeing you so happily cuddle into it, all he could feel was fondness and longing. And, he realises that, yeah, maybe there are some things about his past that don’t leave such a bad taste in his mouth as you smile at him when his gloved hands click his helmet straps into place under your chin, or as he feels your body pressed flush against him as he takes you for a late afternoon spin on his magical wheel, drinking in your excited whoops as he akira slides down a deserted road

And when you give him that look, that piercing look that tells him that you know about the inner contents of his head, that makes him feel like a butterfly pinned to a wall, his thoughts being laid bare, inspected and examined, yet still let yourself melt against him and kiss him with just as much love and desperation that consumes him

It makes him feel almost worthy to call you his

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #fem reader

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joyoushyuck · 3 months

Text

06:23

Donghyuck is still sleeping when you wake up.

He looks peaceful, you think. Not a common sight, you'd even call his sleeping form the eighth wonder because a conscious Donghyuck is never calm. His cheeks are puffy, lips set in a cute pout, hair a royal mess. You thread your fingers through his unruly strands in an attempt to tame them.

Donghyuck's hand is loosely thrown around your waist but you know you couldn't wiggle out of it even if you tried. Not that you want to; it's cozier this way with his legs thrown over yours and body moulded perfectly to fit against your curves.

A few stray rays of light escape through your curtains, forming a magical halo around Donghyuck's face, giving it the softest of glows. Your finger traces his many moles. He looks ethereal like this. You feel an overwhelming amount of love for this man.

You want to protect him, even though the love bites painting his bare torso, the medusa tattoo just above his waist band and his toned biceps don't call for any protection. If anything, your frangible heart is the only thing that requires a lee from the whirlwind that is your boyfriend.

"You're staring babe," and you jump, heart thudding loud and so-not-proud against your chest. The room seems hotter than it was a moment ago, the peaceful ambience destroyed by his usual playfulness. He cracks an eye open and shoots a complacent smirk in your general direction.

"You don't have to scare me like that, you creep!" You huff, embarassed to face him. You try to get out of his hold; an impossible feat because he works out and you don't. So you take refuge among the fulffiness of the many pillows thrown over your bed.

"Says the one who was staring at me," is his smug reply, which earns a slap on his toned chest. Again, he's hardly affected by it. Atleast he has the decency to pretend it hurts.

Your breathing is still audibly heavy from the shock. He runs a placating hand on your back as a quiet apology. "Good morning," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Too late for that, don't you think," you spit in lieu of a reply, no real bite in your words. He chuckles, the sound arising from what you can only imagine to be the deepest parts of him, so low, so attractive, so domestic.

He kisses your hair with an obnoxiously loud smack and then giggles like a teenage girl because he's silly like that. Silly and annoying and so, so cute, his existence stimulates your most primal urges; you love him so much your chest hurts.

And you aren't scared to let him know what he does to you. "I love you." It's out of blue, and most definitely not a regular happening. You feel him stiffen, breath catching in his throat and heart beating infinitely faster. The playfulness drains out of him, leaving a sincere man who loves you with his entire being.

His hand on your waist pulls you closer. He kisses you properly this time, lips moving against yours slowly, like he wants to savour this moment as much as you do. When you break the kiss, he rests his forehead on yours, a hand holding your cheek carefully like you are delicate china. Precious. His.

"Me too," he says breathily. Donghyuck is looking at you - your eyes, nose, lips - searching your face. And when he finds what he's looking for, "I love you too, my pretty baby. So, so, so much."

Note

inspired by this post (@hugs2doie has some great works, make sure to check out the blog!)

My inbox is open. You can send in your thoughts/requests!

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murdrdocs · 5 months

Text

ENJOY THE SILENCE. sejanus plinth

description. being tasked with placating sejanus plinth by doctor gaul seems like an impossible feat. turns out all it takes to be successful was revealing your true feelings.

includes. SMUT 18+, dialogue heavy, slightly manipulative!reader, capitol!reader, oral (m receiving), snowballing, sejanus typical angst. title from enjoy the silence by depeche mode

wc: 6.4k+

By the time your fist meets the thick wood of Sejanus Plinth’s bedroom door, you’ve started to lose your way.

Somewhere along the line of you walking from the Academy to the Plinth residence, entering the home by invitation of Ma Plinth, eating her sweets while listening to the woman speak about how worried she was about her son, and finally walking down the hall to his bedroom, you’ve almost forgotten why you’re here in the first place.

But forgetting would be too good to be true. How could you forget about how you were summoned into an empty classroom by Doctor Gaul, staring into her unnerving eyes as she praised you for what you could be, and barely what you are now?

At the time, you instantly wanted to protest the task of going to the Plinth residence to seek out a certain outspoken boy who didn’t realize his privilege. But one glare from over her nose put you in your place, and you begrudgingly left the Academy to come here.

It’s not that you disliked Sejanus. You felt the opposite, mostly. You were definitely not one of the other Academy students who preferred to make his life hell since you all were eight. But there wasn’t much you had in common with the boy, no mutual connections that pulled you in each other’s orbit save for a few shared classes and a handful of projects.

It was natural for you to question Gaul on why you had to be the one to do it. And as if it was natural, too, she shrugged, examined the walls of the Academy, and told you, “You have the potential to do something great. Prove yourself to me and surely I can find a guaranteed spot for you at the University.”

It barely made any sense to you—how getting Sejanus Plinth to stop speaking his mind could prove your potential to be a great student at the University. But you were desperate, your future so close and within reach. You didn’t want to jeopardize it before it began.

So as soon as classes ended, you grabbed your things, called off the driver, and walked to the Plinth residence where you hoped to prevent Sejanus Plinth from becoming a problem.

Your three knocks against the door taper off to silence, which makes the shuffling on the other side even more prominent. Sejanus doesn’t ask who it is, likely assuming the visitor to be his mother or father, and not one of his classmates who was only an acquaintance. He yells out an invitation to enter and you push the handle down, allowing the door to swing open before taking a step inside.

You don’t get much of a look at Sejanus’ bedroom. Only enough to notice that it’s a typical Capitol room with minimal personalizations. Deep gray walls, white crown molding around the ceilings, light brown hardwood flooring. A picture of the mountains not far from the Capitol sits above a large desk across the room, and a window on each side of the wood lets in the natural light from outside. On the left wall sits a large four poster bed with a cushioned back.

And resting atop it is Sejanus. He stares off at the wall across from him, looking at nothing as it’s bare. But when you don’t speak, his eyes look over at the door. At you.

Your lips pull into a tight smile, you fold your hands behind your back.

“Oh.” Sejanus sits up a little straighter. “I didn’t know you were here.” You know he means no harm by it, but his words come out a little detached. A little rude. He seems to sense it immediately as he licks his lips and invites you in.

You aren’t sure whether you should leave the door open or shut it behind you. Ultimately, you decide to return it to the state it was in before you arrived, not letting up until you hear and feel the latch click into place.

Sejanus uncrosses his feet at the ankles as you approach him. He’s still wearing his uniform just as you are, but the blazer and the outer skirt are removed. You notice them sitting at the foot of his bed. His relaxed nature makes you feel better about peeling your blazer off.

You fold it in half and set it beside his which is thrown on the duvet without any precision, red material hanging off of the edge with one side showing the outside and the other showing the interior.

“What’re you doing here?” This time, his tone is of pure curiosity, lacking any possible negative connotations. It makes you feel better and you sit at the edge of his bed not far from him. The size of the furniture makes you feel further than you are.

“Um…” You take a second. Why are you here? Because Doctor Gaul sent you? Telling him that would do nothing but align yourself with the others. It would make your visit seem hostile. Like you’re here to threaten him, and not to warn him.

You clear your throat. “I’m here to check on you.” You hadn’t noticed the suspicion in Sejanus’ eyes until it’s gone and replaced with neutrality.

“Oh.”

You nod once.

“You seemed really upset in class earlier today. When Gaul came to visit.” Sejanus tenses up at the mention of the head gamemaker. His eyes shift to the otherside of the room, his jaw tightens, and you’re really thankful that you hadn’t directly associated yourself with the woman.

“And I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Sejanus doesn’t look at you again for a second. Then, he shrugs, wringing his hands together in his lap as his brown eyes find you once more.

“I’m okay. As okay as I could be.” With the way he says it, it makes you scoot a little closer to him. Enough for a friendly distance, but Sejanus still glances down at your thighs briefly.

“Your tribute. You knew him, right? Back in District Two?” It takes you a second, but you add: “Back home.”

That seems to soften Sejanus a little more. He flattens his hands onto the rogue of his trousers.

(His thighs look exceptional in the material. You don’t think anyone else quite fills the pants out like he does. Except maybe Festus Creed but his sour attitude squashes any possible attraction you could have towards him. Attraction … are you attracted to Sejanus?)

Sejanus speaking pulls you from your muddled inner dialogue.

“Yeah. We were classmates before we moved here.”

You’re not faking it when you tell him. “That’s awful, Sejanus.”

Your sincerity has a better effect than something planned could have. Sejanus’ shoulders lose their tension. He knocks his head back against the cushioned material of his headboard, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t speak and neither do you. But eventually, you can’t sit in the silence for much longer.

“You can tell me about it … if you want.”

Sejanus peels one eye open and he stares at you for a second, maybe trying to decide if you’re serious. And you’re doing the same. Are you telling him this because you want him to feel safe with you? Even then, are your intentions pure?

There’s no point in dwelling on it more because Sejanus scoots over in a wordless invitation, a gesture that is more of a formality than anything else since you could have easily fit beside him without movement. Either way, you slide up to Sejanus’ side and when you do, you sit a little too close to him. But you decide it would have been rude to scoot further away so you stay put.

That’s the only reason.

Not because sitting this close to Sejanus makes you feel giddy inside and you like how he smells (clean is the best way to put it, with the gentle aroma of baked goods wafting off of his clothes and it’s no wonder where that aspect comes from).

Sejanus begins with telling you of his time back in District Two. He tells you about the Plinth family status, above the baseline of citizens in Two, but he was still well liked throughout his home. He tells you about moving, how alone he felt when he was younger. How alone he still feels, and you lay it on thick when you tell him he isn’t alone. Not when he has you.

Sejanus has reasons to dispute you. It’s not like you’ve gone out of your way to defend him against your cruel classmates. You barely do anything, occasionally slipping in a comment against one of them that was truly for your own benefit if anything. Up until now, the only thing you’ve done to show Sejanus Plinth that he isn’t completely hated in the Capitol has been treating him with the same kindness you gave to others.

But he doesn’t say anything. Anything at all.

You start to consider that you’ve fucked everything up. You’ve failed Doctor Gaul and she would condemn you and kick you out of the mentorship program before you’ve even had a real shot at proving yourself.

The thing that stops your spiraling thoughts is Sejanus’ hand atop of yours. You still, unsure on what to do. But then you turn your hand over, letting your palms kiss before they intertwine, and you feel the warmth of his hand. It’s comforting.

You turn your head to look directly at Sejanus instead of out into his room, surprised to see him already looking at you.

“Thank you.” You watch his lips as he speaks, completely missing the sincerity swimming in his eyes until you flick your gaze up to them.

You can’t help but think about how soft his lips looked as you lick your own, completely forgetting about the previously meticulously applied lipgloss.

“For what?”

Sejanus begins dragging his thumb across the skin of your hand. It’s incredibly distracting.

“For everything.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

He smiles, soft and teasing and gentle and you’re starting to admit that Sejanus Plinth is really cute.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

You think about all of those times you could’ve done something. When you could have joined in on poking fun at the Plinth family. When you could’ve condemned their efforts to fit in, and also their efforts to keep their district practices alive, all in one breath.

Had you not joined in because you were better than that? Better than them. Or had you kept to yourself because you felt sorry for him?

The boy, born district and forced to move to the Capitol. Now unwanted by both groups. Trying his best to blend in and stick to himself, even though his moral beliefs obviously prevented him from completely assimilating.

Maybe you didn’t feel sorry for him. Not when he had a life like this. A lavish home full of luxury goods. A father with power that could rival the oldest standing families in the Capitol, yours included. And slightly less important, a mother who kept even the rarest of guests satisfied with her goods.

Your standings on your feelings for Sejanus Plinth become more confusing whenever you find yourself gravitating forward towards his lips. You don’t notice you’re doing it until you can feel his breath against yours. Your lips are so close, just one hair of a movement and they would be touching, but you stop.

“Is this …” The question hangs unfinished in the air. You have intentions to finish it. At least you think you do, but Sejanus’ free hand cups your cheek and he closes the gap.

Kissing Sejanus Plinth is gentle, to put it simply. His lips move tentatively against yours as if he doesn’t have much experience doing this and you’re not surprised. Personal endeavors spread across the Academy faster than rabies spread throughout the Capitol during the Dark Days, and if Sejanus Plinth was hooking up with someone you would have known by the next morning.

His perceived lack of experience makes you more confident. It makes you press your lips harder against Sejanus, taking the lead as you start to encouragingly move your lips against his. Your lipgloss rubs off, you can feel it as Sejanus’ lips gain more slip to them with each movement. It aids in the kiss becoming messier, that and your combined enthusiasm.

You scoot even closer to him, your legs blindly bumping into each other. Yet, you’re not close enough. You quickly want more of him. You need more of him.

He tastes like his mothers treats, the sweet tang of pie on his tongue melding with the same taste on yours. You savored the pastry from Mrs. Plinth earlier in the day, taking your time to enjoy every single bite and taste the flavors in all of their glory. With Sejanus, you take and take without consideration of savoring. He tastes so good, having your body pressed up against his like this feels so good, and you can’t get enough.

You must gorge yourself until you’ve had your fill. But you fear that your limit may never come, that you’ll be thoroughly addicted to Sejanus Plinth and nothing will ever fill the void.

This worries you for a second, but then Sejanus is un-intertwining his hand away from yours and instead using his palm to press into your lower back.

Just this one touch is enough to dizzy you and once more, you forget why you’re here. Why you’re in the Plinth residence, sitting in Sejanus’ bed, still wearing your Academy uniform.

It’s not until Sejanus pulls away for a full breath of air that you remember. Staring into deep brown pits that you could easily lose yourself in, you’re reminded of the singular brown eye belonging to Doctor Gaul. They don’t have any similarities besides the base color. Sejanus’ eyes are uniform, for starters, and full of warmth.

Still, you remember, and concern strikes through your body for a second. When you move away from Sejanus, you can see the sadness in his eyes.

You ignore how it upsets you.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Sejanus still has his hands on you, and you’re not sure if you’re thankful for that or not.

“Why not? Do you regret it?” He speaks as if he’s afraid of the answer. So you bless him with the truth.

“No. I don’t.” You stare down at your nails, everything swirling inside of you confusing you. You have no direction of where to go from here. This part wasn’t planned. So you stick with the part that was.

“It’s just … I don’t want you to think that’s why I came here.” The hand he has on your cheek leaves but the one at your back stays.

“I thought you came here to check on me.”

You look up at Sejanus and he seems a little standoffish. His eyes are a little bit harsh, maybe concealing hurt. But his hand is still at your lower back and you take that as a good sign.

“I did! But I also came here to warn you.” His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything so you continue. “The Capitol is dangerous, Sejanus. They’ll do anything to protect themselves.” Why’re you telling him this? Despite its true nature, your words made you seem like you don’t support your government. The one created to protect you. And why’re you speaking to him as if you’re not Capitol. You’re proud of your heritage, but something about sitting in Sejanus’ room, your body this close to his, makes you want to briefly leave it all behind.

Maybe it’s because you want Sejanus to believe you. Yes, you need to speak like someone from the districts so the district-born boy will believe you. That’s all.

“And I know you’re just speaking your mind, which is great. But Sejanus … if you continue and you say something particularly harmful to the government, they could hurt you.”

There’s a beat. A moment of silence where Sejanus considers your words. His eyes search your face, they drop to his lap, and then they find you again. “I appreciate the concern,” he says your name, letting it hang out in the air for a moment before continuing. “But I’ll be fine.”

He might be fine, but if he goes back to mentoring tomorrow and says something treasonous, you won’t be. Easily, Gaul could determine you unfit, unable to do as simple of a task such as pacifying your classmate.

It’s a risk you can’t take.

You sigh, shuffling closer to Sejanus and cupping his face in both of your hands. You sit on your heels at this point, knees digging into the mattress right beside Sejanus’ thigh, creating a hole in the soft bedding.

Sejanus’ head is tilted up, allowing the light to meet his cheeks and eyes. He looks innocent like this, just a young boy who doesn’t realize what he’s saying. You hope if he were to continue challenging the ideals of the Capitol, then others would see him as you do now. Maybe without the lust starting to cloud your mind.

“Just please, Sejanus, please make an effort.” Then, exaggerating the situation a little more, you bat your eyelashes and pout a little as you beg, “for me?”

That does it. Sejanus’ eyes glaze over a little, as if tears are gathering in them. But he blinks and they clear up.

He nods, turning his head to the side so he can press a kiss into the palm of your hand. His hands wrap around your wrists, he slides them up your arms and around your back where he encloses your waist with his arms.

“Okay.”

And this time, you’re aware of yourself surging forward to press your lips against Sejanus’.

At first, you tell yourself you’re doing it to complete your empty confession. Nothing but tying a pretty and large bow on top of your hard work. But then, when Sejanus pulls you closer into a hug, and you trail your hands to the back of his head as he starts kissing you with an open mouth, you realize that you’re kissing Sejanus because you want to.

Because he’s attractive and sweet and unlike anyone else around you. He’s a breath of fresh air, despite his troubles that sometimes constrict your airflow with the stress his actions cause you and others.

It all seems worth it when Sejanus pulls up the back of your button up shirt and presses his hand flat against your back. His palm is warm, and just the single touch of skin on skin ignites something deep in you.

You spread your legs more from where you’re straddling him until you’re sitting on his lap instead of holding yourself up on your knees. There’s many layers between you both, your pleated overskirt a notable one that causes trouble, but you can still feel Sejanus through it all. His thighs thick and comfortable, a slight tent in his trousers that’s surely just his dick existing in a flaccid state. You grind against him once, one firm and fluid push and pull motion of your hips, and Sejanus cants his hips up into yours. You’re sure it won’t take much to get him hard.

To put your theory to test, you grind down onto Sejanus again, and he’s quickly groaning, pulling away from your lips to knock his forehead against yours as his hand digs into your hip. You don’t bother hiding your smile, Sejanus’ eyes are closed anyway.

You use the time to run your hands along the sides of his head, fingers tickling along the short hairs at the sides. Sejanus is silent, taking steady breaths, and it’s then that the weight of the situation dawns on you.

Surely Doctor Gaul didn’t have this in mind when she sent you to the Plinth house. Yet, her words ring throughout your otherwise empty head.

“Your classmate, Mr. Plinth. He’s going to be a problem. Stop him while he’s ahead.”

And when you dared to question her on why you had to be the one to do it, and not another student like Coriolanus Snow for example, she glared at you. Her back seemingly got straighter, the chip on her shoulder grew to double its original size.

“Don’t you want a spot at the University? Prove yourself to me here, and surely your application can be boosted to the right people, a few good words whispered in their ears. That is if you succeed. Placate him. Put a pink pacifier in his mouth and a bonnet on his head for all I care just shut him up.”

Her words were stern, absolutely no room for argument, which is why you packed your things up and accepted your fate. But here, like this, is this how you’re going to placate Sejanus Plinth?

Is this a means to get him to trust you? To keep his mouth shut on matters of the Capitol? Or do you really want this?

Sejanus’ hands slide down your sides and settle right above your ass. You can’t help but wish they would go just a little further down.

His touch is sturdy and strong. You feel comfortable in his hands.

“We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to,” you tell him, your words soft spoken and almost vulnerable. You curse yourself for them, but Sejanus doesn’t seem to latch onto the tone. He doesn’t use your moment of vulnerability to his advantage, like predator to prey.

Instead, he opens his eyes and looks up at you.

“I would like to continue. If you feel the same.”

You use your hands at the side of his head to push his visage back, latching your lips onto his gratefully.

From there, things move fairly fast.

You make quick work of your button up, pushing the buttons out of the slits so you can peel the shirt off all together. It’s thrown behind you, likely to end at the foot of the bed along with your outwear.

You don’t want to stop kissing Sejanus, but you let him pull away when you realize he wants to look at you. You're wearing a shirt, just a thin fitted camisole, but Sejanus still drinks in the sight anyway.

His eyes, a little lidded yet no less interested in your presence, graze over your décolletage. When you realize he’s content with just staring, you latch your hands onto the hem of the camisole and peel it over your head, exposing your plain black bra, the final layer of your top half.

Sejanus takes a deep breath, you both hear it and see it, and only when he has returned to his normal breathing pattern does he speak.

“May I?”

You nod, sitting up a little straighter as Sejanus’ hands trail up from your ass to the back of your bra. You expect him to struggle for a second, maybe fumble around and pull the back in the wrong direction once or twice.

But in one motion Sejanus has your bra unclasped and he’s pulling it off of your shoulders.

He palaces the garment gently beside you both, far enough away to not disturb you in the meantime.

You briefly step off of Sejanus to pull your trousers off, and Sejanus does the same once his shirt is off. Yet he removes his pants with slight difficulty. He’s too eager, he forgets to undo the button at first, and then the pants get caught at his feet. But eventually, there is a matching set of Academy rogue uniforms at the foot of Sejanus’ bed, and you’re sitting atop of him once more, playing with his hair while he blatantly stares at your tits.

“You can look and touch, Sejanus,” you tell him, voice light and a little giggly. Sejanus laughs a little at himself, raising a hand and resting it on your breast. He’s stiff at first, and you’re about to open your mouth and tell him what to do, but then he’s rubbing his thumb over your nipple before rolling it in between his fingers and you’re stunned. You sigh gratefully, hands resting on his shoulders as your eyes flutter shut.

You let him continue fondling your breast, already desperately desiring more, and that feeling only multiplies whenever Sejanus latches his lips onto your pert nipple. He could do anything to you right now and you would melt. You would have never guessed that Sejanus Plinth of all people could have this effect on you.

He has you frantically grinding your cunt against his boxers. He has you whining at basically no stimulation, both satisfied with what you’re being given and also calling for more. He has you eagerly pushing your panties to the side to allow your cunt to catch the cotton fabric without anything in the way.

Sejanus unlatches from your nipple at this, staring down at you with weathered breaths. You think you can hear him swear, but you can’t really hear anything through the thick haze already settling in your mind. The one that drives you to get what you want, no matter what’s required of you to get it.

When he licks around your nipple one more time, you see it, Sejanus’ eyes big and full of wonder, no hatred or sadness in them. Maybe he is being placated.

You want Sejanus. It’s something you admit to yourself briefly, not letting the thought sit in your brain long enough for you to feel any emotion attached to it. At least, not any real emotions as the only thing you can feel is a desire to bond with Sejanus in a way you’ll never be able to take back.

As you’re guiding his hand down to your center, you consider it, how things would be after this occurrence with Sejanus. Did it mean more to him than it did to you? Did it mean anything to you?

Sejanus’ pointer and ring finger glide along your panties and any other thoughts you have rushing through your brain leaves, replacing with a chant of more, more, more.

You stare down at him with what you’re sure is hunger in your eyes. Your forehead knocks against Sejanus’ as he circles your clit, and you can’t help but wonder how he’d found it so easily, only fumbling once before he made contact.

Maybe Sejanus is more experienced than you thought.

He’s preparing you, circling your clit long enough for your cunt to start leaking, creating a steadily growing patch in your panties. But, you’re impatient.

Your fingers roll down the waistband of Sejanus’ boxers enough to free his cock, unable to hold back the embarrassingly comical face you make. You can feel it in the way your features contort, and you can see it with the way Sejanus looks up at you, amusement in his brown eyes and a big grin taking over his usually stoic face.

All he says is “yeah”, his free hand cupping your cheek while his other hand starts to pump two fingers in and out of you. He’s a little cocky about it, at least that’s how you read it. You’re missing the slight insecurity that lays across his face.

You would tell Sejanus that you’re unsure about taking all of him, but your refusal to admit defeat prevents you from uttering the confession. Instead, you shuffle down his body without breaking eye contact, momentarily mourning the loss of his thick fingers inside of you before you focus on your new task.

“Can I suck you off?”

He stares at you, hesitating, blinking a few times, and you figure it’s just taking a second for him to process. You spend the time gliding your nails down his abdomen, scraping the perfected ends in the hair under his navel that leads to his cock. You go further down, raking the red manicure through the (thankfully) trimmed hair at the base of his cock.

It’s when your hand hesitates right above Sejanus’ cock that he responds.

His answer is quick, curt, and simple, even though he stutters through it the first time.

You smile and settle yourself between his thighs completely, circling your hand around the end of him. You try not to let his girth intimidate you, instead you spend a few moments shamelessly ogling at his—admittedly pretty—cock before getting in the position you’ve become fairly accustomed to in your final semester at the Academy.

He’s big, bigger than anyone else you’ve been with thus far, and uncut. Impressive in a nice combination of length and girth, although he’s slightly wider than he is long. You don’t know if the width making up for the length will have any difference when he will inevitably stretch out your mouth.

You relax your jaw and stick your tongue out a little to prepare to rest his weight along the muscle. Just the first touch of his tip against your tongue makes Sejanus gasp a little. It’s small, and if the room wasn’t as silent as it is maybe you wouldn’t have heard.

But you did.

You let your eyes flicker up towards him as you lick around his tip, laying your tongue flat and gliding it over his slit.

Sejanus’ hands grip the sheets beside his hips, which flex a little as if he’s about to fully sheath all of him inside of you at once. You don’t bother hiding the smirk that spreads across your lips when he notices he doesn’t.

“So obedient,” you murmur, perhaps for him to hear, too. Either way, Sejanus hums and nods.

His eyes flutter shut, dark lashes somehow prominent even against his tan skin and in the steadily lowering light in the bedroom. With his chest rising and falling, and his curls falling over his forehead, he looks pretty.

Sejanus Plinth has always been pretty. You find no shame in admitting it.

You briefly tear your eyes away from one pretty sight to another. There’s a trail of almost clear fluid running form from Sejanus’ tip, glistening along the side of him. You follow it with your eyes for one second, and then let your tongue follow the same path.

You don’t focus much on the flavor, it’s not your main focus at all currently. Instead, you focus on the pleasure that takes over Sejanus’ being.

This time, he lets his hands find your head, a large palm cupping the side with the tips of his fingers digging into your hair. You expect him to push you further down like men in the past have, but he doesn’t. His hand doesn’t do anything at all.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, being treated this fragile. You don’t know if you like it or not but you also decide not to focus on it at all.

There’s nothing to focus on other than Sejanus.

Having cleaned him up a little, you wrap your lips around his tip with intentions to make more of a mess. You sink down on him slowly, trying to pace yourself, but it’s hard whenever Sejanus is making such pretty noises above you.

Small whines that get trapped in his throat, transforming into something that sounds more similar to a groan. When you look at him, you see his eyes heavy lidded, almost closed, as he stares down at you. His heavy eyebrows create a shadow that makes his gaze look intimidating. Briefly, you see Sejanus for what he could be perhaps with time, a man who’s tough and takes what he wants. It’s wishful thinking that Sejanus Plinth could become like this, but you can easily see yourself with a man like that, completely comfortable with the familiar go-getter attitude of the Capitol.

Really, Sejanus Plinth is the opposite, a man who works towards what he wants out of desire to do good.

His hand strokes your cheek and he nods.

“You’re so good at this. Please, keep going.”

You didn’t even know you needed it, but the encouragement from Sejanus makes you breathe through your nose a little more pointedly as you take the final bit of him that you can fit.

It’s not all—you don’t know if you could fit all of Sejanus without training—but for your first time it’s enough.

You let your mouth hang open to allow any remnants of saliva to drizzle down the rest of Sejanus, gathering it in your fist and using the lubrication to comfortably stroke the rest of Sejanus’ length.

It takes you a little while to get in a rhythm. You forcibly control your gag reflex and breathe through your nose but even then, with each movement down and up, you feel like you’re choking on Sejanus’ cock.

You pull off of him after only a few moments, taking the time to swallow and breathe without controlling it. He lets you take your time, not a single complaint leaving his lips as he patiently waits for your lips to find him once more.

You continue to suck Sejanus off, now needing some attention yourself. You fix the way you’re sitting to spread your legs enough to position the heel of your foot against your cunt. It’s slightly uncomfortable, your foot a little too hard for your delicate center, but it thoroughly gets the job done as your eyes flutter shut when you feel the friction.

You hollow your cheeks, swirling your tongue around the tip of Sejanus before sinking back down on him. He groans, low and deep in his chest. His head falls back and thuds against the padded headboard. His legs lift at the knee for a second, before they meet the mattress once more. And finally, the hand on your head gains pressure. He pushes you down a little, not nearly enough weight for you to have to fight against, more like a calm encouragement.

One you take confidently, sinking yourself all the way down and removing your hand from the base of Sejanus’ cock. You can’t stay like this for long, your throat is already threatening to seize up, but you slink your hand down to Sejanus’ balls, fondle and massage them in your hand for long enough, and then he’s digging his hand into your scalp and gripping for dear life.

He grunts through gritted teeth, his hands get tighter in your hair, and you realize that he’s trying to pull you off of him.

“I’m close,” he says your name urgently, “you gotta get off. ‘M gonna…”

His hips twitch up towards you, you swear you feel his cock twitch, too, and then Sejanus spurts warm cum straight down your throat.

You slide off of Sejanus, letting his cum trickle down along the way, freeing most of it from your mouth. Sejanus watches. He licks his lips just before you do the same to yours, and you’re quick to lean up before you swallow the rest of him.

His hand still hasn’t left your hair, so he just slides it down to the side of your neck as your lips meet in the middle.

The kiss is hot, to put it simply. Sejanus’ other hand is on your lower back, then your breast, then your ass, before finding a home between your thighs. He presses his tongue against yours, not caring about the remnants of his cum on your muscle. In fact, he licks around your mouth, running his tongue at the back of your teeth for good measure.

By the time you pull away, you figure that after he’s shot a load right onto your tongue and then licked it off, Sejanus would be done. You expected him to kiss your cheeks and maybe offer a glass of water like the gentleman he is.

But instead, Sejanus stares up at you with wide eyes, lacking any sign of exhaustion. “Can I…” he starts then stops, glancing down at where you’re still straddling his softening cock. His fingers start to run up and down your cunt.

He starts again. “Can I make you feel good, too?”

His questions shocks you a little. Yeah, you didn’t cum, but you didn’t expect Sejanus to focus on that. Besides, that’s not why you’re here. Or, it’s not why you’ve done what you did. You gave Sejanus head because you expected him to be in a sex haze after that, maybe believing he was linked to you in a way that would demand he abided by your pleas.

(At least, that’s what you reason with yourself)

At this point, if you let him get you off, it would be just a bit of fun. You’re tempted to say yes, your lips forming the simple word, but just then you tell him:

“You don’t have to.”

Sejanus’ eyebrows furrow. “But I want to.”

God, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to say no.

“Not today, Sej,” you hope the nickname (that you’ve never said before nor have you ever heard anyone call him that) would make him give in. “It’s getting late and I have to get home and … your parents, they should be home soon, too, right?”

His face deflates and once more, you briefly feel bad. Guilt weighs on your shoulders. Fear that you’d just missed out on something that will never come your way again settles behind your eyes. He removes his hand.

He nods, rubbing his lips together before nodding again. “Yes. Yeah. Okay. I understand.”

It’s not long after that you’re standing at the Plinth front door, one hand on the knob and the other holding your bag.

Sejanus stands in front of you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Despite your previous rejections, his face still has a different glow to it now, taking over the previous shadow that resided on his features whenever you arrived earlier.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The way he says it is full of expectancy, like you’re a thing now. It’s odd that your smile is genuine.

“Yeah.”

You take a step closer to him. “And think about what we talked about okay?” Before I sucked your dick, you resist adding. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Sejanus smiles softly, takes a step forward, staring down at you with something like amusement in his eyes. As if he’s pleased by you caring about him.

“Okay. I will.” As he reassures you, he leans in until your lips are pressed together a final time. You don’t want to leave the kiss, letting your hands rest on his shoulders as his rest on your lower back.

He pulls back, his features all around a little softer.

“Promise?” you ask.

“Promise,” he confirms.

For some reason, you don’t believe him.

#sejsworld!#sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth smut #sejanus plinth #celeste writes thg

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ervotica · 3 months

Note

Hi! Can you do one with Eris x rhysand daughter reader where they're mates, but in a secret relationship?? Maybe they're getting kinda hot on Eris's throne, but then Rhys & Feyre enter the room and they're discovered?

𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐦𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧

pairing; high lord!eris vanserra x fem!reader

summary; being the high lord of the night court's daughter is feat unto itself. when combined with being the mate of the high lord of autumn, it becomes almost impossible to navigate. you've been keeping your mateship with eris under wraps for a year. on a visit to the autumn court, rhysand unwittingly walks in on the two of you, and all hell breaks loose.

warnings; smut themes (18+ only, as always), ANGST, rhys is very mean in this i'm sorry i made him the bad guy, family issues, eris is sexy and also the love of my life

word count; 2.2k

a/n; wow the daddy issues rly popped off w this one ngl. just to clarify, i really do love rhys with my whole entire heart but i had to villianise someone for the sake of the plot. so enjoy this mess.

The intensity with which Eris surveys you is searing.

Not a new development - of course - but no matter how many times those amber eyes rake the length of your body, the molten honey of them burning into a deep russet as his pupils engulf his irises, it sets your insides ablaze with need.

You're perched atop his throne, clad in a gown of deep red with slits that slip down to reveal your bare thighs as you cross one leg atop the other. You certainly look the part of the Autumn Court.

He wants to devour you whole.

Your thighs part just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the scant fabric that barely covers your dripping pussy, and you watch the way that his eyelids drop, gaze darkening to something primal as the scent of your arousal encases his senses.

"Sit back for me, fawn," he murmurs as he stalks up the steps that land at your feet. Your muscles seize in waiting as you suck your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress a coy smile. His palms slip beneath the silk of your dress, hiking the fabric further to reveal miles of bare skin that only he's privy to. You go soft like prey when thick fingers peel themselves from your skin to curl around your throat, a thumb pressing into the dip beneath your chin.

"Eris," you murmur. He coos, nipping at your earlobe.

"I know, my love. Needy little thing, aren't you."

Gods, you love it when he gets like this. The lust drives him mad–it's like he can't stop the dirty things that fall from his lips. Each word makes you wetter, has you squirming in your seat, begging for the sweet release you know he's bound to grant you– after he's had his way with you, of course.

His nose grazes at your cheekbone, breath hot against your prickling skin.

"Please," you whisper.

His grin is positively feline as his pointed canines protrude to scrape at the curve of your jaw. "All you had to do was ask."

And then his lips are slanting hungrily over your own, a palm curving around your waist to anchor your body to his own as he kisses the breath from your lungs. Your thighs part, granting him access to step between them and press himself flush to your chest; his fingers loop loosely around your wrist to guide your hand between his own legs. You gasp into his mouth and his tongue scrapes against the back of your teeth as you squeeze the hot, hard length of him, revelling in the way he ruts into your open palm. Your chest heaves as he growls lowly against your lips.

"This is what you do to me, fawn. I've wanted to rip this dress from your body and devour you since you stepped through the front doors."

You keen, head tipping back to bare your throat for him. Surrendering completely. Pleasure thrums through your veins when his lips trail down to latch against the soft skin you've exposed for him.

This male is your undoing.

His hand resumes creeping its way up your dress, the tip of his thumb pressing to your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. You moan softly, a sound that he swallows with his open mouth against yours and then chases, rubbing tight circles into the bundle of nerves until you're arching into his touch, lifting off of the throne to crush every inch of your body against his own.

His touch is dizzying, and you're so consumed by the feel of him against you that you almost don't hear the double doors to the throne room creak open. There's a bang as they fall shut behind the visitor, and it's loud enough to have you startling where you sit.

"I'm busy," Eris growls, his forehead still pressed to yours.

"This can't wait, I'm afraid," Rhys drawls. Your blood turns to ice in your veins, any and all arousal effectively dying as soon as your father's voice echoes against the stone walls.

"Oh, shit," you mumble. "We're going to actually die."

Eris pinches your chin between a thumb and forefinger affectionally, flooding the bond with as much warmth and encouragement as he can muster before his head turns, and you bury your face into the juncture of his neck in an effort to hide.

"If you'd be so kind as to escort the lady out, Eris." Rhys picks at the cuffs of his black jacket, brow quirking when neither of you make any effort to move.

"She's fine right here," he replies, clipped.

Your father's nose wrinkles in disdain as he strides for the steps, and your breath catches in your throat when he reaches the edge of the marble floor.

"What is this?" he asks, folding arms over his chest. "You really want your latest escapade present for this meeting?"

Eris' soft eyes harden, ablaze with a fury you've often seen but never been in the direct line of.

"You leave her out of this."

Rhys scoffs. "Don't tell me you've gone soft, High Lord." His tone is scathing, dripping with sarcastic venom.

Eris rises to the insult, shoulders squaring as he straightens to his full height. And it's then, and only then, that your father catches a glimpse of your stricken face, lips parted into a gasp as Eris stares him down.

You go still behind the High Lord of Autumn, pushing your body upright against the throne and willing yourself to simply sink into the chair and cease to exist. Of course, fate has never been in your favour.

"My daughter?" Rhys bellows. "You're fucking my daughter?" His voice bounces off of the stone that encases every inch of the room, and you wince as his violet eyes meet your own.

"It's not like that," you murmur; Eris is torn between focusing his attention on you or Rhys, even as you desperately try to soothe him through the bond as he did for you just minutes ago.

"What is it like then, baby?" Rhys condescends to you. "Don't tell me you love him, now." He spits the words with such hate that you're positive a slap would hurt less. "You are nothing to him, do you not understand that? He will use you and discard you and not think twice about it and I will be left to pick up the pieces because you are too fucking stupid to see that!"

You're sure that your heart ceases to beat when your father finishes speaking, becoming this cold, unmoving thing that weighs down your chest until you struggle for breath. Your father's chest heaves with a simmering rage that has always terrified you, and it makes your body coil tight with a silent sob; you continue to stare him down, eyes narrowed in an attempt to push the tears stinging your waterline back. Eris turns his back on Rhys then, surging forward to kiss the droplets away, smoothing the hair at the crown of your skull down.

"You are so cruel." is all you say.

"I'm telling you the truth," he spits. Your body snaps up at his words and you stand on shaking legs to plant yourself in front of Eris like a shield. The redhead settles his hands on your shoulders, his touch grounding as he directs his next words at Rhys, his voice like death incarnate.

"Apologise to my mate."

Your father blanches at the words, staggering back a step.

"Your what?"

"My mate," he repeats, voice quiet with the anger that coils tightly inside of him. The outrage at the way your own father deigns appropriate to speak to you. "Apologise to her. Now."

Rhys exhales, shuddering when he turns his gaze back to you.

"I expected better from you."

White-hot fire licks at your insides as you survey the disgust that curls your father's lip, the way his eyes flicker down to where Eris holds your emotions steady with his touch alone. You're overcome with the need to protect your mate, even if it means tearing your own flesh and blood apart with claws and teeth and poisoned words.

"You don't know the first fucking thing about him," you spit, willing your voice to stay steady. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

"So tell me, sweetheart." Rhys doubles down.

"Why do you do this?" you sigh, some of the tension in your muscles loosing when Eris steps forward another inch to press his chest to your back, no doubt delivering a deathly stare over your head. "Every time I find something that makes me happy, you ruin it. He makes me happy. Why can't you see that?"

"I never thought you'd be this naive. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter."

You stumble backwards, willing yourself to stay upright even as Eris' hand grasps you by the waist and anchors you to him. You breathe, in and out, forcing the acrid air into your lungs even as you want nothing more than to lay on the floor beneath you and sob. He might as well have hit you.

"You've always been ashamed to call me your daughter," you hiss through gritted teeth. "I've never been enough for you, no matter how hard I trained or how much work I threw myself into, I was always the disappointment. And now I find someone that loves me, that supports me and wants me to be happy, and you want to rip that away, too? It's not fair!"

"That's not true," he says, though his stance falters. The mask slips and it bares the fear that lies underneath the cold exterior.

"That's enough." Eris' voice cuts through the stark silence like a blade. "You will apologise or you will leave, Rhysand."

He murmurs crooning apologies against your ear when you turn to tuck yourself into him, tears hot and fast against your cheeks that flare with heat in the wake of your admission. You feel as though you've been stripped bare before him, every vulnerability dragged to the surface against your best efforts to bury them. Your head tips back, glossy eyes meeting his and finding nothing but unbridled adoration in his gaze. He accepts you, scars and all.

"It's okay, fawn," he whispers. "It's okay. I love you."

You nod fervently, lashes drooping with the weight of your tears when he cradles your cheek and presses a kiss between your brows. His face rises to your father once more.

"If you'd like to keep your alliance with this court, you'd do well to apologise." His voice is rough and rasping with your pain but still leaves no room for argument. "(Y/N) is my mate, and soon she will be my wife and High Lady of Autumn. And I will not tolerate you speaking to her in this manner."

You steel yourself to turn and wobble down the steps to stand face-to-face with your father. You gaze up at him through tear-soaked lashes and the sight pulls at something uncomfortable inside of him. It's how you've looked at him for two hundred years– the longing in your eyes for him to accept you, the unyielding need for him to be proud. He never bothered to decipher what it meant. It's all too clear now.

"I will be leaving Velaris," you tell him, scrunching your nose in the same way your mother does when she's upset. It nearly sends him reeling. "If you never want to see me again, that is your decision to make. But my loyalty lies with my mate."

His lips part and then close as though he wants to say something. You internally plead for it. Say something, you think. Anything.

"I'm sorry that I disappointed you," you continue on despite his silence. "Everything I ever did was to make you proud and it wasn't enough. But I'm done ripping myself apart for your approval."

He watches your lips downturn into a frown, the crease that works its way into your brow the one he's been pressing kisses to and smoothing over for your entire life.

It's as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as you pass the burden you've been carrying to him before you're striding back up those steps, more confident than he's ever seen you.

You walk into Eris' open arms and smile, your face resting comfortably in the hollow of his neck as you breathe him in.

You don't look back when Rhys walks out of the throne room, the heavy wooden doors thudding closed in his wake.

"I'm sorry, my love," Eris murmurs.

"I'm not." You tilt your head to watch him, bringing up a hand to trace the contours of his features. You drag lazy knuckles over the edge of his cheekbones. "I have you."

A smirk cracks your stoic features and he stifles an amused grin at the question he knows is coming.

"So, High Lady, huh?"

He rocks you in his arms, nuzzling his cheek against yours and marvelling at the way you so naturally fit together. His true mirror, his equal in every way. You preen happily at the contact.

"Anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Within reason, fawn," he chides. You roll your eyes playfully.

"I was merely going to suggest we should pick up where we left off, my dear." Your hand glides the length of his body, circling teasingly around his hardening cock before veering away. He grunts, head tipping forward to rest against your shoulder.

"How could I ever say no to that?"

581 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 4 months

Text

aftershocks

barça x reader

r tries to recover from the accident. it isn't as easy as she anticipates.

cw: panic attack, nightmares.

-----

Alexia was hovering. You'd been home for barely 2 hours, and she was sitting next to you, staring at you as you watched your allowed hour of TV, as if she was going to have to pick you up and take you back to the hospital at a moments notice. Her shoes were still on, her keys in her pocket. You knew was nervous and worried, but you wanted to not feel like a patient. Not when you were finally home. Well, at Alexia's home. Which had been yours before, and would, evidently be it again.

You shifted slightly, and your arm gave a twinge of pain at the movement. You winced unconsciously, barely noticing. Everything hurt, pretty much all the time; this was not anything special.

"What is it?" Alexia asked, sitting forward. She looked panicked, almost, and you had to remind yourself that she had seen you right after the accident. She was traumatized, and she was just looking out for you.

"I'm okay, Ale." You assured her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

She somewhat relaxed back into the couch, though she still looked ready to leap to her feet at a moments notice. You glanced down at your phone, checking the time, feeling only relief when you noticed that it was an appropriate time to go to bed. You were exhausted from the short car ride home from the hospital, and you were also exhausted of being in the presence of people. You loved your teammates, and the nurses and doctors had been incredibly, but you hadn't had a single second to yourself since the accident, and you were dying to just sit. In silence. By yourself.

You stood up, slowly, almost amused by the way Alexia got to her feet right away as well.

"I'm gonna go to bed, Ale, I'm exhausted."

"Good, you need rest. Cariño, do you need help with anything?" You appreciated that she'd asked, instead of just trying to help you.

"Maybe up the stairs, but I'm good from there." You said quietly. You were not, nor had you ever been, good at asking for help. You had to learn, and fast, because you were pretty sure getting up the stairs by yourself was an almost impossible feat.

Alexia smiled encouragingly at you, proud that you'd asked for what you needed, and hadn't just shook off her request for help like she'd expected.

You made your way to the stairs, and Alexia wrapped a careful arm around your back, making sure to avoid your ribs, and your bad arm, and also the bruises that littered most of your abdomen. There were very few places you could be touched right now without feeling pain, and even then, you just had to grit your teeth and get through it if you wanted to be able to move anywhere.

By the time you got to your bed, clinging onto Alexia when she moved to let you go at the top of the stairs, you were sweating a bit, and breathing deeply through the waves of throbbing aches washing over you.

You sat on the edge of the bed, waiting until the waves had subsided somewhat before looking up again. Alexia stood in front of you, and if you didn't know better, you would have thought that she was the only with broken bones by the look on her face, like she was feeling everything you were feeling.

"I'm alright, Ale."

"You should have slept on the couch, the stairs are too much for you. Or maybe you should have stayed with Lucy, or Ingrid and Mapi, they're all on one floor. Maybe tomorrow we can-" Alexia's word flew out of her mouth fast, and you could barely understand what she was saying.

"No. I want to be here. Please." You said, feeling embarrassment grip you tightly at how pathetic you sounded.

"Okay, pequeña." Alexia said easily, although the worry lines on her forehead didn't relent.

She got out your pajamas for you handing them over, before hovering anxiously at your side.

"I've got it Alexia, I promise."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. I'll be back in a couple to bring you some ice." With that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her. You managed to change by yourself, for the most part. You your athletic shorts off, and the pajama shorts on fine, giving the large bandage covering almost the entirety of the outside of your left leg a wide birth. You got the shirt off too, carefully removing your arm from it's sling, and doing your best to jostle your abdomen as little as possible as you pulled the shirt up and over your head.

It hurt. A lot. Something so simple, and you were biting your lip to keep from crying out. You wanted to lay down, or lean over, or do anything to relax your body a little, but you couldn't do any of those things without help, or else your ribs protested heavily. You gritted your teeth, getting the shirt over your head. You couldn't get it on the rest of the way, though. You would have to wait for Alexia. You were wearing a sports bra, though, so you wouldn't be completely humiliated.

You would be slightly humiliated though. There were tears welling in your eyes, and your shirt hung pathetically around your neck. You sniffled every time you inhaled, and you felt so useless. You couldn't even get your shirt on by yourself. You were frustrated beyond belief, and you couldn't do anything about it because doing anything hurt.

Alexia returned, knocking softly on the door.

"Come in," you said, voice cracking on the last word, much to your dismay.

Alexia walked in cautiously, hearing the motion in your voice.

"I need help." You said, sounding rather dejected.

"That's okay," Alexia said, moving to your side. She tugged the shirt over your arms, carefully. "Anything else?"

"I just want to go to sleep." You admitted. Alexia nodded earnestly, helping you to recline back onto the pillows. She sat on the edge of the bed, next to you. Once you were settled, she placed an ice pack on your ribs, made you drink some water and take some pills, before brushing the hair off your forehead.

"Thanks, Ale." You mumbled.

"Of course. It's going to get easier, pequeña, I promise."

"Yeah." You didn't sound convinced.

Alexia's face lit up after a second.

"I know what will make you feel better!" She got up, rifling through the bags of your stuff on the ground. She found what she was looking for, standing and holding it up with a ridiculous grin. It was your stuffed blue dinosaur, the one you'd slept with since you were a baby. The team always made fun of you because you brought him with you on away trips, until you'd gotten so tired of the teasing, you started leaving him at home.

You slept better with him, though, as ridiculous as it sounded, and you made a mental note to thank Ingrid for stuffing him in the suitcase, and presumably hiding him from Mapi, because if she had seen, you would have heard about it.

"What is his name? Chester?" Alexia said, handing him to you. You tucked him under your good arm, rolling your eyes. Alexia knew his name.

"You know it's Cosmo."

"Right, Christopher."

You rolled your eyes again, but your lips turned up into a smile. Alexia beamed at the sight, happy her idiotic bit had made you smile, even if it was just a bit. "Goodnight, Ale."

"Buenas noches, pequeña. I'll leave my door open, shout if you need me, okay?"

You nodded in the affirmative, and Alexia left you to sleep.

You passed out almost instantly, body and mind drained from your somehow exhausting day. While you'd been in the hospital, you hadn't had any issues sleeping, likely do to the pain medication they'd given you. You didn't dream, and sleeping proved to be a completely peaceful respite, mind wonderfully blank. Now, though, you were just taking over the counter stuff, which did nothing to help you sleep.

They had had a psychologist come talk to you about the accident, but you'd waved her away, saying that you were fine. You thought you were. The car ride home had been slightly terrifying, but you'd really barely thought back to what had happened.

-----

It was more of a memory than a nightmare that hit you, and at first, it felt like you were just remembering the event, than dreaming it. It was as if you were watching the accident from above, yet feeling everything as it was happening to you. It was in slow motion, the car approaching the intersection, you going when the light turned green. You saw the car braking late, tires screeching on the pavement even as the it barreled towards you. You watched yourself turn your head, seeing the car through the visor on your helmet, the way the front wheel of your bike turned just slightly. This was probably what saved your leg, you think.

Then the car is making contact with the bike, and you're flying off towards the ground, rolling for a while, as the bike crashed and slid away, too. Just as you stopped rolling, you snapped back into your body, feeling all of the pain you remembered. Your breath caught in your throat as you writhed around in agony. You were stuck in that moment, the few seconds after the crash you'd been awake, an endless loop of the most you'd ever hurt, and the most scared you'd ever been. The sky was going dark, and you couldn't remember if this was a dream or not, all you could think was that you were sure you were going to die.

-----

Alexia had been in and out of sleep, jerking awake at the smallest noise. She'd checked on you every time she woke up, and each time, found you peacefully asleep. She wasn't sure why she was so worried; you'd been sleeping fine, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to be awake for you.

It was around 3 in the morning when she woke again, hearing what she thought was you crying out. She was frustrated, the last few days having been exhausting for her too, and she had rolled over to go back to sleep, convinced that it was just her imagination again.

She sat straight up in bed a second later though, hearing another sound from the direction of your room. She flew out of bed, down the hall, and into your room, freezing when she saw you thrashing around under the covers. Your face was twisted up in pain, likely from the movements your body was making in your sleep. It was obvious to her what you must be dreaming about.

Alexia moved closer to the bed, heart physically hurting in her chest at the sight of you, tears leaking from behind your shut eyelids. She said your name once, twice, then a third time when you didn't wake. She scanned your body for where she could possibly shake you awake without hurting you, and settled on your uninjured right arm. She grabbed it, squeezing gently.

"Pequeña, wake up," she said gently, watching as your eyes flew open. They scanned the room, wide and wet with tears, and when you realized that you were not laying in the middle of the street, instead in your warm bed in Alexia's house, you lurched towards her.

You didn't get very far, crying out loudly when you moved even a fraction of an inch. You became aware that every part of you still ached, and though you weren't sure why, allowed Alexia to ease you back down onto the bed, until you were no longer aggravating your ribs. You reached your good arm towards Alexia, and she grabbed it easily.

"You're okay, pequeña, it was just a dream," she said. You nodded, but your chest still rose and fell rapidly, and you looked to be confused as well as in pain. "You are here with me, at my house."

"Hurts," you choked out, still not really sure why every one of your injuries was aching so badly.

"I know, you were moving a lot in your sleep. Just relax, I'll go get you some more ice," she said, moving to get off the bed. You let out a little squeak in response, and Alexia gave in, sitting back on the bed.

"It was green," you mumbled after a minute, somewhat calmer, but still shaking lightly.

"What was green?" Alexia asked.

"The light. It was green. I didn't do anything wrong, and I still got hit."

Alexia's face grew stormy, and you misunderstood.

"I promise, Capi, the light was green, and I even waited a second before going, like you're supposed to." You implored, and Alexia shook her head, shushing you quietly.

"I know, I'm not angry with you. It wasn't your fault. It was the other drivers fault, and he will pay for what he did."You didn't spend too long thinking about that, mind drifting off to other things.

"I thought I was going to die," you said, looking up at Alexia. You looked scared, terrified really, and it was clear that the full weight of what had happened was only just now hitting you.

I did too, Alexia thought. I thought I was watching you die on the ground in front of me.

"You didn't die, you were never going to die. You are fine, you are here with me, and you are completely fine." Alexia said conclusively.

"I'm fine." You echoed.

"You're fine." Alexia promised again. You had settled back into the bed, clearly exhausted from the whole ordeal. As soon as your eyes closed, though, they would snap right back open, flashing to Alexia, as if to make sure she was still there.

"I am not going anywhere, pequeña. I will stay right here until you fall asleep."

You visibly relaxed, eyes shutting almost immediately, and this time, they didn't jerk back open. Alexia stayed, as promised, until she heard your breathing even out, and your grip slackened on her hand.

She made her way back to her room, contending with the odd feeling that this was not the only time you were going to struggle with nightmares.

-----

As usual, Alexia was right. Every night, it seemed, you had the same dream, and every night, Alexia heard you, came into your room and woke you up. You were both exhausted, completely and to your core. Your fourth night home, you woke up with your fourth reoccurring nightmare. It felt like every time, you laid on the ground, in pain, longer. You'd woken by yourself, and you knew you hadn't been very quiet. Alexia didn't come, though, so you forced yourself to calm down, before getting up to make sure she was okay.

Your anxiety levels in general had spiked since the accident, and you found yourself worried every time anyone went... anywhere. You crept down the hall, good arm wrapped around your abdomen. Alexia's door was open, as she'd been leaving it, and she was tucked under the covers, still out cold.

You turned away, realizing the toll this must be taking on her. Dealing with you and your injuries during the day, your nightmares at night, and the team and training dominated everything else. You were old enough to deal with nightmares on your own, you decided. Alexia needed rest.

Your version of dealing with the nightmares was slowly making your way downstairs, before cozying up on the couch and turning on the TV quietly. You eventually drifted back off, and that is where Alexia found you the next morning.

She was sitting on the other end of the couch, feet tucked under her, as she sipped at a mug of coffee. You'd woken, you realized, because she'd turned the TV to a football match, and the change in volume had registered somewhere deep in your subconscious.

"What time is it?" You asked groggily.

"Almost 10," Alexia replied, looking away from the TV when she heard you speak. "What are you doing down here?"

"I... I was hot in my room, and it was cooler down here." Alexia raised a single eyebrow at you, but you held strong, maintaining eye contact.

"You were hot, so you came downstairs to sleep on the couch under 3 blankets?" Alexia asked after a minute.

"Once I got down here, I was cold, but I didn't want to go all the way back upstairs, so I used more blankets." You said weakly.

"What happened?" She asked, as if you hadn't spoken at all.

"Nothing."

"Pequeña," she said, sighing.

"Nightmare." you replied. Alexia's face changed, realization washing over it. She seemed to have just figured out that you hadn't woken her with a nightmare last night.

"I didn't hear you, did I? I slept through it?"

You nodded your head.

"I'm so sorry." She said, voice filled with guilt.

"Don't be. You don't need to wake up every time I have a nightmare. I was fine, I am fine." You dismissed.

"These nightmares... they've been happening a lot," Alexia stated, watching as your body physically recoiled away from the conversation. You stood from the couch, prepared to leave the room.

"Hey, don't run away from me. You can't just pretend the nightmares aren't happening, pequeña, they won't get better if you ignore them."

"I don't want to talk about it." You replied firmly, continuing on your way towards the stairs.

"Did you remember I'm leaving this afternoon? I'll be gone for a night, we have that away match in Sweden."

You hadn't remembered, honestly. You'd been pretty preoccupied with everything else going on, and when Alexia had asked if you would be okay with her going to the game a few days ago, you'd agreed easily. You thought you'd be doing better, mentally and physically, by the time she had to go.

You'd already moved into her house, were disrupting her entire life, not to mention waking her up every night. You wouldn't be the reason she missed a match, even if being by yourself was miserable.

"I know," you lied. "It's fine." You didn't turn around, instead keeping your back to Alexia.

"I can stay if you need me. Or you can go to Lucy's, she's out injured. The blonde offers gently, tone completely sincere.

"No, really. It's fine. I'll be fine."

Honestly, Alexia didn't believe you for a minute, but she knew you'd never admit that you needed her. She hoped you'd realize that it was okay for you to need her, to need help, and maybe the only way to do that would be to go.

She stood, walking towards where you stood, facing away from her. She turned you around carefully, leaving her hands on your shoulders. "Promise me you'll call if something happens? Or Lucy?"

"I'll be fine." You insisted, shrugging out from her grasp, and going to hide away in your room.

"That's not a promise, pequeña," Alexia shouted after you.

-----

Alexia left later that day, rather hesitantly, but left nonetheless. You had settled on the couch, still pretty much not allowed to do anything more than walk short distances. You were expecting a knock on the door any minute now, because there was simply no way Alexia wouldn't have instructed everyone that she knew in the city of Barcelona to check on you.

Instead of the predicted knock on the door, your phone rang. Leah's contact popped up and you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the phone call ahead. Aside from talking to Leah, briefly, over the phone in the hospital, you hadn't spoken to her since. Your screen time had been severely limited because of the concussion, but you knew Lucy and Keira had been keeping your national team captain up to date.

"Hello." Leah said, somewhat coldly. She was a worrier, and she was big on honesty, so the situation was obviously really hard for her. She was concerned, yes, but she was also angrier than almost anyone else. That was how Leah was, though. Her worry manifested as anger- she didn't like to be vulnerable and admit she was scared for you, so she covered it up with being angry.

"How long are you going to be mad at me for?" You complained.

"How long until you'll be back on the field after your stupid and avoidable accident?" Leah fired back.

You flinched slightly. It was avoidable. That was something that you couldn't get out of your head, that it was your fault. If you'd just listened none of this would have happened. It was your fault that everyone was worried, that Alexia had to see you so hurt, that she had to take care of you, that your teammates across the continent had to worry about you from afar. It was all your fault.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Leah's voice jolted you from your spiral, and you forced a smile on your face.

"Yep! All good. What's up with you?" You asked, changing the subject. Leah looked at you, searchingly, not understanding what had just happened. You'd spaced out completely after she'd spoken, getting this fareway look on your face, growing incredibly pale. She worried something was going south with your concussion.

"Where is Putellas? I want to talk to her."

"Why?" You wondered suspiciously.

"Is she there?" Leah asked impatiently.

"No, she's gone for the night. Away game for the Champions League. She'll be back tomorrow night."

Leah's worry grew. "She left you there by yourself?"

"Leah, seriously I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine, kid. You just spaced out in the middle of my sentence, looked like you were going to throw up, and then snapped out of it. Is it your head? Are you dizzy? You should call for an ambulance just to be safe." Leah was rambling, feeling rather helpless.

"Jesus, Leah. No. It's not my head, I'm not dizzy, I. Am. Fine. Everyone needs to stop worrying."

The blonde wasn't dropping this easily. "Why did you freak out then?"

You paused. You could lie, Leah would be able to tell, and she'd probably call the Spanish military in to check on you. Or you could try to be truthful.

"You're right, it was stupid and it was avoidable. I shouldn't have been so reckless." You answer quietly. You watch as Leah's face loses all of it's frustration, melting into a completely soft, concerned one. She had the reputation for being harsh and strict, but really, she was the easiest to make fold. Her heart was too big to stick to any of the things she said when she was mad.

"I shouldn't have said that. I was worried, yes. You're an adult, though, and you can make your own decisions. And from what I've heard, the accident was completely not your fault."

You shrug indifferently. Leah tries to take a different approach. All the time she's known you, she's known you to be stubborn. She had to see how deep this guilt really went, and she knew how.

"Are you going to get a new bike?" She asked.

You scoffed. "No."

"Why? Because you don't want to, or because everyone else doesn't want you to?"

"Both I guess. Scaring everyone like that again wouldn't be fair, and all anyone would think about when I rode off on it would be the time I almost died." You pause, lowering your voice before aditting the next part. "And I don't really think I could ever get on one again anyway." Your cheeks flush red, and you avoid Leah's eyes on the screen. Admitting that you're scared is not something you're comfortable with.

"It's okay if you're scared, y/n. What happened was terrifying. There isn't anything wrong with having a hard time with it. Lucy mentioned you'd been having nightmares..."

"My god, has Alexia told everyone?!" You groan. "I'm not scared, they aren't nightmares, they are just dreams. I am fine. Tell everyone to stop worrying."

It's quiet for a minute after your outburst.

"I don't think you are okay. But I know better than to try to convince you to change your mind and be honest. Just... don't push everyone away okay? It's not fair to you. You need a support system right now. Let yourself lean on the people that love you."

"I'm fine, Leah."

She sighed deeply. "Well, if you decide to stop being stubborn, I'm always here for you, yeah?

"Bye, Lee."

With that, you hung up the phone, throwing down onto the couch, incredibly frustrated. You weren't being stubborn. You didn't need help.

You were worried about sleeping that night; even though you had been trying not to wake Alexia up, it was still comforting to know that she was there, just a room over. Now, you would be all alone in the house. You hadn't had any issues when you napped, though, so you decided to get ahead of what you expected to be a night of little sleep.

The couch was comfortable enough, and you left the TV on, the soft hum of voices, combined with the general exhaustion that plagued your healing body, quickly lulling you to sleep. It was afternoon when you dozed off, and afternoon still when you jolted awake.

It was the same nightmare, but it seemed that each time you had it, it felt more and more real. At the beginning, you could remind yourself it was a dream; now, though, you didn't realize that until you had woken up. Sometimes it even took a few minutes for you to get a handle on your surroundings, the pain in your abdomen from your rapid breathing not helping you.

This was one of the worse ones. The dream had lasted longer than ever, and this time, you could hear different people around you, telling you that it was your fault for being so reckless. People you loved.

You were sweating, laying on Alexia's couch, gripping onto the blanket wrapped around you like it was the only protection between you, and the death you had just experienced in your nightmare.

It took you a while to calm your breathing down, and by the time you did that, your ribs felt like they were on fire inside of you, burning from the movement. You realized you were crying, and that it wasn't because of the pain.

You'd almost died.

You were alive, you reminded yourself.

But you came so close to not being alive.

The voices from your dreams echoed around your head, and you could only cry harder, turning to push your face into the pillow underneath you. Nothing you did made the tears, or the body shaking sobs, stop.

After another 10 minutes, when you were seriously worried you were going to damage your ribs, you pulled your phone out. You should have called Lucy, really, but Alexia was the only one that had ever seen you even close to as upset as you were now, and you were sure she was the only one who could help you calm down.

Alexia's phone rang right to voicemail. She was on media today, you remembered, and she'd told you to call someone else on the team if she didn't answer, and if it was an emergency. You scrolled through your recent calls, clicking on the first teammate that you saw; Ingrid.

She answered after only two rings, and you could hear the sounds of the team hanging out and joking around in the background.

"Hi elskling!," Ingrid said, sounding happy to get a call from you. She'd been checking in a lot, which you appreciated, but you knew you'd been pretty distant with her, as you'd been with most of the team. Guilt was a funny thing, and bothering everyone more than you already had felt necessary. You hadn't called to catch up with Ingrid, though.

"Ingrid, can you get Alexia please," you choked out, swallowing a sob that threatened to escape you.

"Yes, of course." Ingrid's tone turned serious, and you heard her mumbling to Mapi, before she came back on. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, I just need Alexia."

"Okay, Mapi's just gone to get her. She'll be right here, I promise."

"Thank you," you say, voice nothing but a broken whisper.

"It's going to be okay, y/n, I promise." Ingrid said, and you tried to internalize her words. You heard voices moving closer, one of Mapi, and one, unmistakably, of Alexia, but the panicked version of her voice. One you'd been hearing a lot of recently.

"Hey, pequeña, I'm here," Alexia murmured over the phone. "Talk to me, what's going on?"

"Nightmare. Worse than normal." You get out. You're still crying, and Alexia can barely understand you.

"Are you having a hard time breathing?" She asks.

"No, no I just can't stop crying. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Okay, that's okay. Everything is okay pequeña. You're allowed to cry." Alexia assured you.

"It hurts, Ale."

Alexia felt her heart shatter at the hopeless tone of your voice. She couldn't fix this, not from so far away. She turned to Mapi and Ingrid, who were hovering nearby.

"Call Lucy, tell her to go to my house." She mouthed at them. Mapi whipped out her phone, walking away as she talked quickly into it.

"Sit up for me, cariño, can you do that?"

"Okay," you mumble.

"Do you have any water near you?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to take a couple slow sips, okay?"

You do as Alexia says, following her instructions for the next few minutes. You haven't really calmed down at all, though, and Alexia is relieved when she hears a knock on the door through the phone.

"Cariño, that's Lucy. Can you open the door for her?"

"I-I think so." You struggle to your feet, wobbling towards the door, and unlocking it with a shaky hand. Lucy is stood on the other side, and she moves forward as soon as the door opens, steadying you. You only feel relieved when you see her, all thoughts of being embarrassed pushed from your head, just desperate to stop crying.

"Luce is here," you tell Alexia.

"Okay, good. Do what she says, okay? And call me when you feel a little better?" You agree, hanging up the phone, and allowing Lucy to guide you over to the couch. She sat down next to you, rubbing your back softly.

"You're okay, kiddo."

"I can't calm down, Luce," you stutter out.

"You can, I promise. Have I told you about what Narla did the other day?"

You're slightly confused at the abrupt change of subject, but Lucy launches into a ridiculous story about Narla at the dog park. You don't really notice that the tears stop, that your body has stopped trembling so hard, until Lucy finishes her story, and miraculously, you feel significantly better.

"Okay?" Lucy asks, handing you your water, which you gulp down gratefully.

"Yeah. Sorry. Don't know what happened."

Lucy's expression is unreadable as she stares at you for a minute. She leaves you with the idea that there is a conversation to be had, but she doesn't begin it. You get the distinct feeling that she's waiting for Alexia to be there.

"I'll get you some ice." She says instead. She goes to the kitchen, and you recline back onto the couch, wincing at the pain. Lucy returns quickly, her brow furrowed in worry as she tugs your shirt up a little, and looks at the dark blue bruises of your ribs.

"Do they look worse?" She asks you, placing the ice pack on them.

"No, the same."

"You should call Alexia back, she'll be losing her mind." You shrug. "Y/n, come on. Call her." Lucy's voice is uncharacteristically stern.

"I hate worrying everyone." You admit weakly, but reach for your phone, clicking Alexia's contact.

Lucy watches as you talk to her, assuring her over and over again that you're fine, really. She can tell by Alexia's doubtful voice that the captain is thinking the same thing Lucy is; you needed help. Neither of them were quite sure how to get you to agree to it, though.

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didnt' mean for there to be another part but this got long so :)

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader

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