#yes i'm still posting here i'm not going to be Not Obnoxious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

florencemtrash · 3 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Five

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Physical injury (i.e., Rhys and Cassian recovering post-Koschei), fluff, mating ceremonyyyyyyyyy (y'all I'm so excited I got so emotional writing this one)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was strange how the absence of things could be so obvious. How silence could be more obnoxious than a crowded room.

Three weeks had passed since Koschei’s death, and everyone was afraid to bring attention to the glaring absence of Cassian’s arm and Rhysand’s wings.

At every meal, Nesta carefully cut up the Lord of Bloodshed’s food, and every night, Rhysand winnowed up to his bedroom. He no longer needed a wheelchair to move around, but walking up the stairs was a battle he won only half the time.

Azriel’s shadows were still missing. Gone to the wind. But their whispers grew in strength each day and Azriel would strain his ear to hear them. It gave you both hope that they’d return in time.

“Daddy.”

Rhysand froze halfway up the stairs, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. He subtly hid his hand behind his back, concealing the cane he relied on to walk around his own home.

“Yes, Nyx.”

The boy stood with his mother, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her wings were on full display, as were Nyx’s, in preparation for their daily flying lessons. For the first time, Rhysand would be unable to join them.

“We’re going flying. Do you… do you want to watch?” Nyx smiled shyly, one arm wrapped around his mother’s leg as he stared at the ground. “I can finally summon my wings during free fall. Just like we practiced.”

Rhysand strained to smile. “Go ahead with your mother. I’ll join you on the balcony soon.”

“Ok,” the boy murmured and walked down the hall towards his parents’ bedroom.

Feyre moved to be with her husband, her wings disappearing in a melting of light. She gently cupped his face in her hands.

“It’s ok, my love,” Rhysand whispered, kissing her palms. Feyre smoothed back the swoop of hair that fell over his forehead. The strands were damp with sweat. “I don’t want you to keep Nyx waiting.”

“Nyx is a patient boy. More patient than his father.”

Rhys chuckled, blinking away tears. It was silly to hide these emotions from Feyre — she felt everything he did — but he wanted to at least try to be strong. To be her equal. Her High Lord.

“Take your time, Rhys.” Her lips brushed against his and a piece of that ache in his chest fizzled out. It was incredible how his mate and wife could ease his burden with such a small touch. “I’ll be waiting with our son.”

The moment Feyre disappeared into their bedroom and shut the door, Rhysand snapped his cane in half. Wood splinters flew out, embedding themselves in the wall and in the staircase, and he threw what remained down the stairs.

Feyre, with all her love and patience, gave him the space to be angry. To grieve. But it helped her to know that Cassian, Azriel, and Emerie were already on their way.

Rhysand made it to the third floor landing without his cane before the pain in his back became impossible to ignore. He sank to the floor.

“Rhys—” The trio crowded around him.

“Don’t say a fucking word, Cass.” They froze beside him, tucking their wings in tight. “I used to think the steps to the House of Wind were hard. Now I can’t even climb the stairs in my own fucking house.”

He hated this. He hated this with a burning passion. He was meant to be High Lord. He should have been at Feyre’s side, shaking out his wings and getting ready to taste the wind with his son. Instead here he was, sweat-soaked and shaking in front of his brothers and Emerie.

After his mother and Selene’s death, he’d promised himself he would never lose his wings. They were a physical reminder of his Illyrian heritage. A heritage which so often went unseen beneath the veneer of a High Lord. Decades spent Under the Mountain had only cemented that promise in blood and salt.

Amarantha may have stolen many things from him, but she’d never taken his wings. She’d never touched them. She’d never even seen them.

Poison-laced calls of Amarantha’s whore and half-breed had always paled in comparison to the freedom of flying. A freedom he no longer had.

“I’m not an Illyrian anymore,” Rhysand whispered grimly. The muscles in his back rolled, and even that small movement sent a thread of pain down his spine.

Cassian and Azriel were stunned into silence. But not Emerie. Her gaze was too piercing, her tone too frank and unrelenting as she said, “My mother died without her wings.”

Rhysand looked up at the female, slender and sharp as a blade.

“At thirty-seven years old her father took a butcher’s knife and hacked them off before burying them in the snow just outside Windhaven.” She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me, was she not an Illyrian then?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhysand said pathetically.

“It’s exactly what you meant. But you’re wrong. Your wings don’t make you an Illyrian, Rhys. If they did, myself and over half the females in those camps would have been banished from Illyria a long time ago.”

There was a silence that followed, tense and filled with guilt until Emerie spoke again.

“Do you know what they say about you in the camps? And I’m not talking about the males who whisper half-breed behind your back.”

Rhysand took his head.

“The young females whisper about the day you’ll find them worthy enough to steal away to Velaris — to your precious city you’d never let come to harm. They talk about the shops they’d get to see with the frosted cakes in the windows and the enchanted houses where they wouldn’t have to slave away over a stove or wring towels until their hands bled. That one day, you’ll recognize that they’re dreamers too who’ve only had their worst nightmares come true. The older ones are wiser than that. They don’t talk about escaping to a city they don’t know and don’t love, surrounded by strangers who might call them lesser-fae. They build their lives in the cold, and when the males come to burn it down, they either endure and build it up again, or they fight back however they can.”

Emerie regarded him carefully, eyes halting on his violet eyes and the sharpness of his ears.

“Wings don’t make you an Illyrian,” she repeated, “It’s in your blood. It’s what you're born into and the hands that raise you. Never say “I’m not an Illyrian” again, do you understand me?”

Rhysand swallowed the burning lump in his throat. Touched the short tips of his ears and wiped the tears gathering in his violet eyes.

“Azriel, could you—could you bring me my cane? Please?”

His brother walked down the steps without hesitation and retrieved the broken halves.

It was a thing of beauty and strength, carved from ironwood and stained so dark it may as well have been sliced from a night sky. Rhysand put the two pieces together and closed his eyes.

It was easy, miniscule magic to put the cane back together and far more difficult a feat to stand upright once again. He might have toppled backwards if not for Emerie. She gave him her shoulder to lean against.

“Still an Illyrian,” he murmured.

It was a promise to himself and to his family. To the three Illyrian warriors who had found him.

“Still an Illyrian.” Emerie patted his arm. “I understand you’ll still feel some self-pity for a while. It’s natural, but… try not to do it in a room I’m in.”

“I can do that.” Rhysand leaned against his cane, limping towards his bedroom where his mate and son were waiting. “Oh and Emerie.” She turned her head towards him. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to just cut it for you?”

“No, I like the way Nesta does it.”

“Since when did you get so picky?”

“Since I lost my fucking arm, Mor.”

You snorted into your glass of wine and Azriel smiled as the pair continued bickering. He kept one hand under the table, rubbing small circles into your thigh. It wasn’t until Nesta decided to grace the early morning with her presence that Cassian turned his attention away from Mor, drawing Nesta down for a kiss.

A fresh bruise painted his cheekbone purple, pink, and blue.

Nesta gripped Cassian’s chin, turning his face to the side for a better look. “Who did this?”

“Emerie,” he said cheerfully. His grin was brighter than the sun.

Today was the first time he’d sparred with anyone since he lost his arm and Emerie hadn’t gone easy on him. On the contrary, she’d taken every advantage her two arms afforded her until Cassian felt more tender than a steak on a butcher’s board. He hadn’t been thrown on his back so many times since the mating frenzy.

It was a dirty, cunning way of fighting and he’d never appreciated the Illyrian female more.

Nesta smirked at her friend with a glint in her eye that looked suspiciously like gratitude.

Emerie only shrugged. She hadn’t experienced the same kind of loss that Cassian and Rhysand had, but she’d learned a great deal after her wing clipping. Carrying limbs that no longer worked was not so different from losing them entirely. It was all about a shifting of control and weight — about finding a new center of gravity and using weakness to your advantage.

“Did you go easy on him?” Nesta asked.

Emerie snorted. “Obviously not.”

“She fractured three ribs, but they’re healed now.”

“Very nice.”

Nesta settled down at her rightful seat beside Cassian and wordlessly cut up his breakfast.

“Thanks, Nes.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

Cassian chuckled and pulled her close until she was nearly in his lap. “Don’t give me so much power, darling.”

She huffed. “What power?”

“The power to win any argument in the future.” He stuck what remained of his right arm into the air and gave it a shake. It was a gentle, teasing reminder of who had cut it off in the first place.

Nesta narrowed her eyes until they were two clips of ice. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.”

“That’s much better.”

Some people needed a gentle touch after horrible events, but there was nothing gentle about Cassian. He’d been born with the wild in his blood. He knew how to adapt and survive, and if surviving meant he would lose his arm and get more time with his mate, it was a trade he was more than happy to make.

Azriel seemed to be in agreement. He never took his eyes off you. More interested in seeing your reaction than hearing which comment had brought it to life.

Feyre nudged Rhys, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth from her mate to you and Azriel.

Now? Rhys asked.

Yes, now! They’ve been staring at each other for the last thirty minutes. It’s honestly unnerving... Do you think they’ve already accepted the bond?

There’s no way in hell. We would have known.

Azriel’s terribly good at keeping secrets.

The fact that they haven’t been missing the last few months is proof enough.

All the more reason to bring this up now so we can finally put them out of their misery.

Feyre shot to her feet at the head of the table and Rhysand scrambled to attention after her.

“It has come to our attention that we never did say congratulations to a special couple in this room.”

“Oh gods,” Azriel muttered.

Your face turned warm as everyone’s eyes and grins fell upon you and your mate.

“You didn’t think we forgot about your mating bond, did you?” Gwyn teased.

“We were kind of hoping you had,” you said. “Not that we aren’t happy or—” You glanced over at Azriel.

The first night you’d woken up in the Dawn Court you’d tried to crawl into his bones — an odd mixture of desperation and longing urging you to have your way with one other. Now, you were embarrassed to think that the first thing you’d tried to do after nearly dying, was sleep with your mate.

Azriel smiled, bending towards you like a flower seeking sunlight in silent encouragement. It was such a small, natural gesture, and one that everyone noticed. Which also meant they clocked the blush on your cheeks as you gripped Azriel’s hand under the table.

You cleared your throat. “We weren’t sure it was a good time with everything going on. We thought it might be wise to wait before—”

“No more waiting!” Cassian declared, slamming his fist against the table so hard the silverware bounced. “I swear to the fucking gods, if you’re not in the frenzy by the end of the week, Y/n, I’ll have you force feed Azriel myself.”

“We agreed we’d be gentle in our approach,” Elain reminded him.

“There was a plan in place for this?” Lucien sputtered. “And you were a part of it?”

She scoffed and lightly slapped his arm. Elain was a gentle, lovely creature when she wanted to be, and nothing melted her heart more than a good love story.

“I think we are in need of a celebration,” Vassa whispered. It was the first collection of words the firebird had spoken in months.

She’d sat for every meal at Lucien’s side completely silent. But this time, she reached a hand across the table and slid it into yours, squeezing tightly. Flashes of memory passed behind her eyes — memories of Jurian.

They weren’t fae. A mating bond was never in the cards for them. Which was why she felt strongly that you should be greedy with the time you had together. For there was no telling when it would end.

You sucked in a breath. You’d spoken at length about this with Azriel, tossing ideas back and forth during the night when the bond made your blood sing for more contact with the Shadowsinger. More touches.

But you’d agreed that it was inappropriate to have even a private mating ceremony when everyone was hurting. To abandon them and disappear into the frenzy.

Perhaps you’d both been wrong.

Given how quick everyone was to swarm you and Azriel, you were definitely wrong.

Rhysand hobbled over with his cane, kissing your cheek with a loud, obnoxious smack before aggressively disheveling Azriel’s hair.

“The cottage—” Azriel began.

“I’ll have it finished by tonight.” Rhysand promised.

Cassian threw his one good arm around Azriel’s shoulder, tugging him out of his chair and towards the door on a mission. Poor Lucien was also coerced into joining whatever debauchery Cassian had planned for their afternoon. He sulked after the pair with Rhysand.

Nesta, Feyre, and Mor crowded around you, already deliberating which of the many-frequented boutiques in Velaris they would need to visit for your mating ceremony attire.

You were positively overwhelmed by the attention and the realization that this was all happening.

By midnight, you would be mated to the love of your life.

Azriel slipped out from under Cassian’s arm, racing back across the room and falling to his knees. “I need a moment with you.” He breathed, thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes.

One nod was all it took before he was guiding you to the kitchen and slamming the door on everyone’s whistling.

Azriel pressed you against the kitchen door, chest heaving so hard you could feel every beat of his heart against your chest.

You’d both been holding back with each other ever since returning to the Night Court. Propriety and respect for his brothers had demanded you wait to express your love and wanting. You didn’t want to slap them in the face with joy.

But now that you had everyone’s overwhelming approval, well… Azriel was finding it nearly impossible to wait even a moment longer.

He pressed his lips to yours and didn’t let go of his soft grip on your waist until you were both gasping for breath. But then you kissed him back, swallowing his sighs and gentle groans like there was honey on his tongue. Sweet and addictive and—

Rhysand rudely knocked on the door, his sultry voice a purr. “In the kitchen, Azriel? Really? I would have expected more from a gentleman like you.”

“Fuck off, Rhys.”

The High Lord chuckled, but slipped away all the same.

Azriel grinned against your lips, your hands clasped together between your bodies. “I just wanted one last kiss before tonight.”

“Tonight.” You nodded frantically.

Tonight.

You were doing this. You were really doing this.

Then you realized what he’d said. “I won’t see you before then?”

“I don’t think the others will let us.”

Your laughs rang in the air, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets like wedding bells.

On the other side of your door you could feel everyone’s anticipation. And you couldn't keep them waiting much longer. They might just break down the door.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered before stealing one last kiss.

“Tonight.” Azriel agreed. His breath curled around your ear, lips brushing against the tip as he promised, “Until then.”

Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Elain, and Mor descended upon the Palace of Thread and Jewels, all too eager to heap your arms full of the most expensive lace money could buy.

You were about to marry into the Night Court and had a High Lord father who needed to make up for centuries of fatherly absence. There was more than enough gold to throw around.

“What do you think of this?” Feyre asked, draping the pale blue silk over your shoulder.

The clothier’s shop was bustling in the late morning, but no one dared step foot into the private room your family was set up in. The enchanted curtain blocked out all noise — tthe pinnacle of privacy.

You stood alone on a low platform, swishing the skirts of your dress and imagining what the finished product might look like.

Farron, the clothier, had been quick to stitch a muslin mock up of the design you’d chosen, knotted fingers shocking in their dexterity as needle and thread disappeared and reappeared in her hand like some trick of the eye. She hadn’t even taken your measurements. One spin with your arms outstretched and she’d set about cutting the exact length of material needed for your mating ceremony gown.

It was no wonder that she was Rhysand’s preferred clothier.

It still felt like a dream. Some wonderful, impossible dream as you took in the sight of the fabric over your chest.

It glistened like moonlight and flowed like river water.

“Feyre, it’s perfect,” You breathed, touching the silken threads beneath your fingertips.

“An excellent choice,” Farron said with a smile. She stood dutifully off to the side, tortoise-rimmed glasses growing her eyes to bug-like proportions.

You were a lovely thing in her eyes. A fine match for the Shadowsinger, indeed.

Now, no one had told her that that was the cause for celebration. But she’d been clothing the Night Court males for a long while and knew them like the back of her hand. And you? You were made for the Shadowsinger. That much was clear.

It was from centuries of experience that she classified the soft parting of your mouth and wide eyes. It was the look mates and brides alike adopted when they’d found the perfect dress. The one that would make them feel as perfect and precious as a pearl.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “My mating ceremony is tonight. Will it be ready by then?”

“Pfffft.” The clothier slapped her chest indignantly. “It will be ready in three hours time. You can return once after you’ve finished your shopping and we’ll have a final ceremony look ready for you, my dear.”

With a dress being sewn together at Farron’s, Mor hurried you along to what she believed was the most critical part of any mating ceremony dress — the lingerie. The ordeal left a permanent blush on your cheeks as you quickly moved on to the shoemaker and then the jeweler.

“Which one did you decide on?” Mor asked once again. She trailed at your heels, resting her chin on your shoulder as you kept your wares clutched to your chest.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?” She whined. Red fingernails grazed the tissue paper that peaked out from the edges of the lingerie box.

“Because that is for Azriel to know, and only Azriel,” you said, snatching the box out of her grasp.

Nesta laughed. “What does it matter which pair she’s picked? It’s not like it will survive the first night of the frenzy.”

Your cheeks burned with color.

Mor giggled at your shyness. “Don’t act coy now, Y//n. We all know what you four read in your free time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t benefit, love.” Emerie teased, squeezing Mor’s hip.

“I never suggested such a thing.”

Gwyn gagged when they kissed and everyone broke apart into fits of laughter in the streets, leaning against shoulders and stumbling on the cobblestones as they caught their breath.

You were pressed in on all sides by familiar bodies, a comforting mixture of perfumes, and the sounds of laughter.

It’s happening. It’s really happening.

Your grin could have put the sun to shame as you bounced on your heels in front of the mirror.

Pale blue silk dipped down to the center of your chest and fell off your shoulders like mist. Wide, airy sleeves hovered at your elbows, ending in curls of hand-woven lace. A pair of ribbon-tie shoes and ear-tip cuffs completed the ensemble.

They were both blue for Azriel — for your mate — who currently stood awestruck by the door.

You didn’t startle when you caught a sliver of his reflection in the mirror. In fact, you were rather pleased to see his slack jaw and glistening eyes.

“What do you think?” You asked as Azriel slipped out from the darkness and into your old bedroom.

You hardly stepped foot in here anymore. Azriel’s bedroom had solidly become yours. Your clothes were mixed in with his. Your perfume bottles and soaps lined his bathroom. Your scent was tied to his bed, or rather your bed.

“I think… I think you’re a dream, Y/n.” He spoke with a sigh.

He melted into the curve of your neck, hands ghosting over your shoulders with a feather-light touch.

He shook his head, as if disappointed.

“No,” he corrected himself, “You’re far better than a dream because you’re real, and I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered.

You leaned back against his chest and breathed deeply, feeling your heart soothe itself to the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of mountain air and cedar trees.

He was beautiful. Black velvet encased his broad shoulders, cutting out a silhouette of pitch black night and highlighting the glow of his hazel eyes — like two chips of amber aglow in a dark wood.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring and threading your fingers into his soft, black curls, eliciting a soft groan from his lips that had your blood stirring to life.

“I thought we were supposed to meet downstairs.”

Azriel smiled. “I selfishly wanted to be the first to see you.”

“That’s not selfish at all,” You hummed. You began tracing the gold cuffs that spanned the length of his ears and the subtle embroidery at the wrists and front of his shirt. They were distinctly Day Court fashions, and he wore them well. “These are new.”

“I may or may not have reached out to your father for advice when picking out my clothes.”

“I like them. Day Court colors suit you. They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.”

Azriel smiled, kissing the curve of your ears and playing with the sapphire necklace clasped around your neck. The drag of metal and fingertips over your chest had you shivering.

You gently tugged at his hair and he obeyed the unspoken command to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss. Soft sounds spilled from both of you as he walked you back towards the wall and gently pressed you against it, flatting his hands by the sides of your head.

Azriel got lost in the taste of you. Your hands in his hair. The feeling of your hips flush against his. Every movement was subtle, but eager, in its wanting and Azriel knew that when he finally had you beneath him, he’d be ruined… If he wasn’t ruined already.

There was another reason he’d wanted to see you first before relinquishing you to the formalities of a mating ceremony.

He’d been on edge all day, unused to being the unbridled center of attention among his brothers. Cassian was brash and loud, Rhysand flirtatious and passionate. Even Lucien radiated an undeniable charisma that made him popular within crowds.

But Azriel had always prized quiet and peace above all else. He wanted to feel that peace again.

The bond rose within him like high tide, spilling color and light into his chest as you pressed your forehead against his and cradled the curve of his neck.

He breathed deep and he breathed freely, feeling something in his soul mend itself with a roll of anticipation. A tendril of cold wrapped around his ear and whispered in a language only Azriel could understand.

Too long, master. It’s been too long.

Azriel’s eyes flew open. He’d nearly forgotten the shape of their words — the language that he’d been taught to speak after years spent in the dark. Months of soft spoken words he could barely make out became a chorus of congratulations as they sensed the connection that now bound you and Azriel together.

They’d known about it since the beginning, but now that you were also aware, they were ecstatic.

Black shadows spilled out from his skin, eagerly wrapping you up in a shell of twisting darkness. They embraced you, kissing your cheeks with cool, feathery touches.

Azriel swallowed your laughter, hands diving down and lifting up your dress so he could squeeze your thighs and wrap your legs around him.

It was a kiss made of teeth and longing and relief. With his shadows having returned and a mating bond ready to be accepted, Azriel felt invincible. Like he was cradling the world in his arms.

But it was ended all too soon by a shadow in his ear that warned, They’re almost at the door.

Gods he missed having them around.

You gasped, picking up on the sound of Lucien and Helion’s strong footsteps coming towards the door. They were supposed to walk you downstairs before handing you off to your mate, and although Azriel had made leaps and bounds in earning their blessing you didn’t think they’d take kindly to seeing the Shadowsinger flush between your legs just before your mating ceremony.

“Shit.” You hissed, untangling yourself from Azriel as he fixed your dress and struggled to hide his laughter.

You pushed him backwards, masking both your scents and shoving him inside the wardrobe.

“My Y/n, what are you doing?” Azriel asked. He needed to bend just to fit inside the empty wardrobe. His eyes glittered with amusement, shadows pooling around his wings.

“I-I was going to try and hide you before my father and brother come inside but” — a handful of shadows curled around your wrists and ankles, intent on becoming permanent fixtures for as long as you were separated from your mate — “I see that’s not necessary anymore.”

Azriel grinned and pulled you in for one last kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he whispered just as Lucien’s polite knock came at the door.

“I’ll see you downstairs.”

His shadows swirled around him and he melted into the darkness.

Mating ceremonies were fluid, adaptable affairs. They could be as extravagant and public or as humble and private as one desired. It made no difference. You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever.

You would have accepted the bond with Azriel in your father’s palace or in a desert wasteland. Still, you had to agree that home was best.

The largest room in the River House — the dining room — had been cleared out for the purpose of your mating ceremony. Candlelight flickered atop the fireplace mantle where you, Azriel, and the priestess stood, and within sconces dripping with wisteria and baby’s breath along the wall. The light of a thousand lanterns, gauzy and warm, lit up the gardens outside the House.

“All kneel,” the priestess said, holding out two crowns of lavender and lilies of the valley.

Everyone kneeled in a loose half-circle.

Her dusty blue robes brushed against the floor as she placed the crown atop Azriel’s head and then yours. At her instruction, you shifted on the floor, facing each other with smiles that couldn’t be contained.

Azriel’s eyes burned bright, as if all the gold in the world had been distilled and dropped into them.

You took the candles the priestess held out, holding them in your left hand and clasping together your right.

Azriel snuck a quick kiss to your palm before the priestess could wrap your wrists and hands together with ribbons of blue and gold. She drifted her fingers over the candles and lit them with a flourish.

Before the Mother, the priestess, and your family, you exchanged your vows.

Secret glances passed between you and the Shadowsinger. Brief smiles tugged at the corners of your lips. Squeezing hands soothed your soul and grounded you in the present as you spoke the words together:

I give to you the hands of a warrior, lover, friend, and mate, till the darkness comes and our endings wake.

I give to you my name, to hold on your lips and to pass on your years in hope and longing, in joy and tears.

Blood of blood. Bone of bone. I shall be yours, and you shall be mine.

Until we return to the earth and hear the Mother’s song. Until the end of our days—

“Until death and beyond,” Azriel whispered the final vows.

“Until death and beyond,” you replied.

“Who the hell spilled the champagne!”

The floor was already sticky with it, grabbing onto Rhysand’s shoes as he stepped out of the puddle. A guilty Feyre chugged the last dregs in the bottle, magicking away the spill with a snap of her fingers and a sultry wink towards her mate. She shrieked with laughter when Rhys limped over to her, collapsing around her shoulders and blowing kisses against her neck.

Nyx sat at Amren’s feet on the floor, struggling to hold his violet eyes open as she scratched his head with her silver-tipped nails. Amren was not one for parties and regarded the room with bored eyes.

Mor sat in the seat of honor — Emerie’s lap — whispering gossip in the Illyrian’s ear as you and Azriel tried to make yourselves sparse in the corner.

You were half-hidden behind Azriel’s wings as he leaned his head against your shoulder. Leave it to you two to hide at your own mating ceremony.

Lucien and Elain drank wine by the kitchen. She left her hand comfortably on his upper arm and smiled when he tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. They were a handsome couple — all pale colors and golden gazes, like sunshine spilling over a new day.

Helion, entertaining as always, dazzled the group that had assembled around him composed of Gwyn, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta. Every so often his bright eyes would land on you and he’d wink before pointing threateningly in Azriel’s direction.

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he dipped his lips to your ears and asked, “Do you think he’ll ever approve of me?”

“He already approves of you, he just doesn’t want you to know.”

“He’s a smart male for keeping such a secret. My ego may grow too big for you to handle if he compliments me outright.”

“Didn’t he once invite you to his bed?”

“That’s not very special coming from Helion.”

You burst out laughing, attracting everyone’s attention as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest to stifle the noise. He laughed aloud as well. Head thrown back, chest and shoulders shaking. It was a full-bodied laugh that harmonized with yours as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back.

Azriel’s laughter had once been a rare sound, but you drew it out of him so easily, like a musician with their instrument.

Feyre grinned and clapped her hands together. All at once the dining room rearranged itself. The candle flames grew brighter. A table laden with food and chairs popped into existence.

For such a special occasion, you and Azriel sat at the head of the table, subtly leaning against one another with your legs tangled beneath the tablecloth as you ate.

There was a cake still waiting to be cut in the kitchen — a cake that you’d baked with Azriel’s name written all over it in invisible ink.

Nyx twisted around in his chair, eyes utterly fixated on the seemingly endless rows of lanterns glowing in the garden.

“Mom.” Nyx tugged on Feyre’s wrist as she cleaned his cheek. “When will I get to float the lanterns?”

Feyre looked to you and Azriel.

The lanterns were an old Day Court tradition. On the longest night of the year, Day Court citizens dared to step outside into the dark and light up the sky with their own sun-painted lanterns. It was a way to keep the darkness at bay for a little while longer. A time to add your own light to the night sky.

“Now,” you smiled. “Let’s do it now.”

You all spilled out into the gardens, cheering Nyx on as he raced ahead of everyone else with short, energetic strides. His wings flared out behind him, catching the name of the wind as it whispered against the velvety membrane.

“Not yet!” Rhys reminded him. “You need to let your aunt and uncle go first.”

You and Azriel picked up the largest lantern of them all, delicate rice paper crinkling as you held it up. The starburst-shaped lantern glowed faintly. A burning sun. A fallen star.

Everyone bent over in the flowers and grasses, hunting to find the second-best lantern for themselves.

“This one’s for Velaria,” Nyx said, holding up a small, round orb. “This one’s for you, Daddy.” A pale lavender lantern was placed carefully in his father’s hand. “And this one’s for Mommy.”

“Why thank you, honey.” Feyre bent low, kissing her son’s velvety black hair as she held Velaria in her arms.

“Is everyone ready?” You called out.

Cheers sounded from all around. Particularly energetic whoops came from Cassian and Mor, who tipped back their heads and howled like wolves, ready to throw their lanterns to the sky.

Azriel tucked you beneath the curve of his wings and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple before you both let your magic seep into the lantern and sent it skywards.

There was chatter from all sides. Soft gasps leaving open-mouth stares as a dozen lanterns started drifting upwards like miniature suns.

“It’s all you, Nyx!” Azriel shouted.

The boy leapt into action, finding the tallest patch of ground in the garden to make his directorial debut. He fixed the tilt of his bowtie and bent his knees. Slowly and dramatically he curled his fingers, raising his hands upwards like he meant to pull water out of the ground.

He looked like an orchestra conductor leading his players in a great crescendo as the remaining one-thousand lanterns took off into the night sky.

You gasped and flung your hands up to your lips. Three hundred and forty-three years you’d been alive, and this was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen.

You turned to Azriel only to find that he was already staring at you — at the light of a thousand suns reflected in your eyes.

You found yourself proven wrong, and not for the first time. The lanterns were only the second most beautiful sight… and you wanted to see more.

Azriel read the idea forming in your mind and nodded.

Without hesitation, you took his hand, slinking through the now darkening garden as everyone else’s attention was directed towards the sky.

Lanterns arced through the darkness, staining the sky warm orange as if a painter had swept her brush over the black canvas.

Shadows nipped at your heels and covered your tracks, urging you onward as you slipped back into the House and then the kitchen.

You didn’t even bother cutting the cake. After rummaging around in the kitchen drawers for a spoon, you carved out a spoonful of chocolate cake with strawberries and a healthy dollop of whipped cream frosting — Azriel’s favorite.

The Shadowsinger froze, eyes darting back and forth between the cake and your flushed face. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, marked by a quiet, otherworldly beauty Azriel had never been able to resist.

“Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this now?” You breathed, moving the spoon closer to his lips.

“I just… I just want to make sure I remember everything about tonight,” he whispered.

He adjusted the crown of lavender and lilies on your head, picking up a loose flower petal that had drifted onto your bare shoulders. His touch was soft. Gentle. Reverent as he trailed his fingers up your neck and brushed his thumb along your jaw.

His lips closed around the spoon, dragging off every crumb and lick of frosting while never taking his eyes off of you.

It was probably a delicious cake, but all Azriel would remember was the taste of your lips that followed as he drew you to his body.

When the bond had first snapped for him, he thought the world had cracked in two. Like the sharp clap of lightning across the sky.

What followed after the sugar and chocolate melted on his tongue was the thunder — a resounding tremor as the bond glowed hot as iron before cooling into something permanent and unbreakable.

Azriel let out a breathless noise. Something between a sigh and a shudder. He clutched your back, nails dragging lightly along your exposed skin in a way that had you melting.

“I want to go. Now.” You rasped.

You wanted him desperately. More than words could describe.

Azriel scooped you up into his arms, and together you vanished into the shadows before anyone even realized you were missing.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all, I just love Y/n and Azriel so much...

THEY FUCKING DESERVE A PROPER MATING CEREMONY LIKE DAMNIT THEY BOTH NEARLY DIED LIKE 3X AND YES I'M GOING TO WRITE A SEX SCENE NEXT CHAPTER, I DON'T CARE, THEY DESERVE THIS, Y'ALL DESERVE THIS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND OVER 100K WORDS LIKE YOU ARE THE TRUE MVPs AND I APPRECIATE YOU IMMENSELY!!! (*but also, if you're not into reading smut scenes, I'll write the next chapter in such a way that you can just skip over it and not miss anything continuity-wise)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

We're almost at the end I've got like two chapters left, one of which is already mostly written, and maybe the epilogue will be it's own thing or part of the last chapter i don't know and just UGH it's almost over... ok i'm going to end this author's note here because I'm getting sad just thinking about this fic ending

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #acotar #azriel x reader angst #ok but also now that Rhys lost his wings maybe he'll actually do more to stop wing clippings and female mutilation in Illyria 👀#I said what I said

414 notes · View notes

niningtori · 6 months

Text

supermodel | part one

part two

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after beomgyu ghosts you after three (what you thought were) really successful dates, your close friend asks you if she can date him instead. you, being the pushover you are, say yes. but beomgyu's not done bothering you.

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI!!!)

warnings: MDNI!!! cheating (not on you [and it's lowkey justified if you ask me]), unprotected sex (no!), oral (f. receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, manipulative!beomgyu if you squint (lmk if you catch it lmao), if i missed anything lmk

word count: 6k (ouuu... definitely not 13k i'm sorry anon my love)

notes: ...hi. so, as most of my followers know, i primarily write angst. this is my first time ever posting smut on here and i genuinely don't know if it's any good. if it's bad,,,, i'm sorry in advance!! see ending for more notes :)

you do not like beomgyu. you don't like the way he keeps his hair so long, or the way he tucks it behind his ears when he's focused. you don't like that he has the same music taste as you and how much of a snob he is about it. you don't like the way he laughs obnoxiously loud and you especially don't like the way his cheeks dimple like little whiskers when he does it. no, you don't like beomgyu one bit.

it hasn't always been like this. there was a time, albeit brief and fleeting, that you really liked the aforementioned grievances you've grown to hate so much. in fact, you liked them so much, you even liked the boy himself. that ship has sailed, though. and it sails further and further as you watch him cuddle up even closer to one of your closest friends, hana. you aren't a bitter person, really. you're usually pretty laidback, all things considered, so when hana asked you if she could date the boy who ghosted you after three (what you thought were) really successful dates, you said yes.

do you regret agreeing? well, how can you regret it when hana looks so happy? in fact, she looks happier than ever as beomgyu discreetly places his hand on her inner thigh. oh man. you think you're gonna be sick.

meeting beomgyu was like a meet cute in a romcom. you were alone in a cafe (cliché, but true) when he pulled up a seat and sat next to you. he was cute, he was charming, and, most surprisingly, he was actually really funny. he made you giggle more than once and you almost couldn't believe someone so seemingly perfect wanted anything to do with you, but he did. he was extremely eager, if anything, because as soon as you gave him your number, he texted you asking if you wanted to go out sometime. you, with your innocent heart, could only agree.

your first date was at that same cafe. he had memorized your order, even though he had only met you once, and you felt so flattered your heart skipped a beat. you're a little on the shyer side, but he was able to pull you out of your shell with ease. you'd later find out he has the ability to do that with everyone, but back then, you were amazed by how naturally he pulled it off.

after your first date, you'd texted all your friends about it. they asked for pictures and details, but you said it was too early and you didn't want to jinx it. you're the type to try not to get too caught up in the moment in favor of being more realistic, so it had been a pleasant surprise for most of your friends to hear how excited you were. this could really be something special, you thought.

and special, it was. your second date had been at a nice restaurant you'd never heard of. beomgyu was pulling out all the stops for you and spared nothing when it came to giving you the royal treatment. he was courteous and kind, but still mischievously flirty. you were enamored with everything about him. you were used to being treated kindly on dates, of course, but you had never seen anything quite like beomgyu. it seemed like he couldn't get enough of you, which was a novel feeling, though totally welcomed.

you finally felt confident enough to tell your friends all about him. when asked, you had no problem divulging all the finer details of your dates. you had nothing but praises for him, and even sent one of his instagram pictures to show off his good looks. most of them were taken aback at how handsome he was. hana, however, was not at all surprised. it shocked you to find out that she knew beomgyu, and knew him well. she had floated in the same circle of friends with him in college and you were pleased to find out that he had always been a really nice guy, if a little flighty at times, but he had never been that way with you. plus, it seemed to you that he had matured quite a bit. for once in your life, you got your hopes up. but, like most things, you would come to regret it.

your third and final date had been simple enough. he had asked you to come hang out at his place, but said his friends would likely be coming and going. it was nice. it was intimate. his apartment was small and a little messy, but filled with personality. you smiled when you saw polaroids he had taken of (and with) his friends adorning his bedroom walls. he seemed really sentimental, actually, but you liked that about him. you liked everything about him, really.

so when he leaned in for a kiss while watching some dumb old slasher flick, you closed your eyes and prepared to meet his warm lips. this was real. you would have a boyfriend, a near perfect one. and he liked you. he really, really liked you. what more could you ask for? but you never expected that a phone call would pull you out of your daze. you checked the caller id and immediately became worried. hana very rarely called you, but she said she was having an emergency and you, being the good friend you are, had to bail on beomgyu. the emergency in question was her having a meltdown over some guy she had never even mentioned, but had apparently really liked. you had no choice but to go to her place, bringing a tub of ice cream and all of her favorite snacks in tow. beomgyu said he understood, because of course he did, and said he would text you with other plans.

when he, in fact, did not text you first with plans, you had opted to text him yourself. you figured he had just forgotten or something, so you simply greeted him and apologized again for having to leave. it seems so fucking stupid to you now — the way you waited so anxiously by the phone for a reply that would never come. you remember staying up all night and jolting every time your phone buzzed. you were anxiously awaiting a text, a call, fucking anything, really. but it was pointless. after a few days of radio silence on beomgyu's end, you had pretty much resigned yourself to the fact that he would never respond. what did you do to scare him away? you thought you had done everything right, but you must’ve come on too strong or something. you felt utterly humiliated.

you were in your head again. it wouldn't surprise you if you had imagined the whole fucking thing, actually. but a few weeks later, hana had texted you asking if you were okay with her dating the boy you'd been waiting for. she seemed so hopeful and so happy, how could you say no? just because it didn't work out between you two didn't mean that it couldn't work out between them. maybe, deep down, the ugliest parts of you kind of hoped it wouldn't, but when she texted you with all the filthy details of the first time they hooked up, you knew you were thinking too highly of yourself.

beomgyu doesn't like you, and even if his refusal to text you back wasn't enough of an indication that that's the case, his attitude towards you while dating hana tells you everything you need to know. the way he manages to antagonize you over what would normally be completely menial things should be studied. when you trip over your words, he makes a point to call it out and laugh, which results in you, of course, tripping over your words even more. when you look like shit, he makes sarcastic comments along the lines of "oh i see you've decided to really doll yourself up this evening". what's worse is you're so non-confrontational, you just let him chirp.

what you don't know is that the more unbothered you look, the more eager he is to elicit a reaction out of you. it drives him crazy how nothing seems to drive you crazy, so he pushes and pushes, but it's like a fist landing on cotton. he's on the brink of madness trying to get you to say something, anything. but you never do. you just smile or shake your head and it's all he can do not to snap.

you’re at your favorite bar when you meet him. you’re not alone, or at least you shouldn’t be, but hana has gone outside to make a call. usually, you’d be the first one to accompany her, but you’re honestly not in the mood to hear her flirt with beomgyu (or beomie bear, as she calls him) over the phone. you never are, really, but especially not now as you down another shot of whatever the bartender has deemed as “the strongest shit they’ve got.” you don’t think you look particularly attractive at the moment, but when jay sees you, he’s flocking towards you.

“hey,” he says with a smile as he slides onto the stool next to yours.

“hey,” you reply shyly. are you imagining things or did he seriously just blush at your answer?

“i-i’m jay.” you can’t help but giggle at how nervous he seems. cute.

you take the time to introduce yourself and jay seems relieved that you’re actually receptive to his awkwardness. you like the way it feels to be in control for once. you like the way it feels to be wanted so much. so when he asks you if you want to go out in the near future, you say yes.

in the midst of your conversation, hana comes sauntering back in with a dopey grin on her face. she has, no doubt, just gotten off the phone with beomgyu if her satisfied expression is any indication. her satisfaction turns into surprise when she registers who’s sitting next to you.

“jay?!” she exclaims, taken aback by the familiar boy next to you.

“hana? oh my god, how are you?” he asks, standing up and pulling her into a hug. “we went to college together,” he explains when they part. your previous happiness crumbles in an instant. the nasty part of you wonders if she knows fucking everybody you’re interested in, but you shut it down mercilessly. it's not hana’s fault she's so likable. it's your fault for not being more so, actually.

“i’m good,” she says with a light giggle. they catch up for a moment before she drops an atomic bomb. “you know, i’m actually with beomgyu now.”

“damn, really? i thought that would never actually happen,” he replies, genuine shock falling across his sculpted features. your interest can’t help but be piqued at this.

“what makes you say that?” she asks rather defensively. jay can tell he messed up from her tone and he backtracks immediately.

“o-oh nothing. i just never pegged you two as compatible, but congratulations! i know you’ve liked him for a long time.” ?... ??...???? what the hell?

“what is he talking about?” you can’t help but ask confusedly. hana looks thoroughly reddened as she fumbles for an explanation.

“i-i liked beomie back in college. n-nothing major!” she stammers. you can do nothing but stare. she liked beomgyu and she never told you? well, you were half in love with the boy after three dates and you’re still half in love with him, actually, so it’s not particularly surprising that she fell for him, but the fact that she never mentioned it feels iffy at best. jay can sense the tension, and he cleverly excuses himself with:

“shit, my friends are here. i’ll text you soon?” he says, looking to you for confirmation. you manage to muster up a smile and a nod, but you’re still disturbed by this revelation.

“... are you mad?” hana asks tentatively.

“n-no. of course not!” you say with conviction, but deep down, you know you’re uncomfortable. she probably knows it, too, but she doesn’t pry much further.

“i’m glad you’re not mad,” she sighs. “anyway, it’s not like you’re dating him now.” she pokes at the sore spot on your heart with ease. maybe if she were more sober, she’d see the hurt on your face, but as it is, she doesn’t register a thing.

so hana liked beomgyu back in college? why hadn’t she told you? well, you guess it doesn’t make a difference now. she’s with him. you’re not. what else is there to say, really? but in the back of your mind, gears start turning. you just don’t know it yet.

hana has been a lot nicer to you than usual after that night at the bar. she’s always nice, but she seems hellbent on making sure your prospective date with jay goes well. you suppose it’s her way of making it up to you for withholding her secret crush on beomgyu from you. to be honest, there’s no real reason for her to do so, but you accept her kindness graciously. now, the night before your big date, she’s practically hounding you with questions.

“what are you gonna wear?” she asks over the phone.

“mmm, i dunno yet,” you hum into the speaker. you really don’t know. jay invited you to a house party, which is not the most romantic place in the world, but hana convinced you that he’s just awkward and a group setting (with drinks, no less) would loosen him up. you realize that you want to impress him. you want him to think you’re the most beautiful girl in the room, but nothing you have in your closet quite fits the bill.

“ooh, i know! you can just borrow one of my dresses. what about the black one? the one you complimented last time we went out! i won’t be home tomorrow night, but i’ll leave the key under the mat, okay? so just come grab it when you’re free!” she sounds proud of herself for coming up with that. you don’t have the heart to tell her it’s a little too scandalous for you, so you grit your teeth and accept her peace offering.

“mmm, yeah. that sounds good. thank you, hana,” you reply.

“pay attention to meeee,” you hear a deep voice cut in from over the phone. beomgyu. you try not to think about the way your heart aches when you hear him (very loudly) plant a kiss on… some part of her body. you’re not exactly sure where it is, but you falter when you hear her reaction.

“beomie, ah, not there,” hana moans and you feel a pang in your chest. “hey, i’ve gotta go, okay?” you don’t have to imagine what they’re about to do and it hurts.

“okay,” you say with a bitter smile, but the call drops before you can even reply.

it’s finally the night of the date and you’re anxious, to put it mildly. you don’t know how long you spent trying to get your hair and makeup right, but an ungodly amount of time has passed. you’re almost tempted to skip getting the dress from hana’s apartment, but you really don’t have anything else that suits the occasion, so you begrudgingly hail a cab over to her place.

you enter her apartment and head toward her bedroom, where the pretty black dress is waiting for you. with a sigh, you strip out of your sweats and shimmy into the dress. you look in hana's bedroom mirror and you have to admit that you look pretty good. you feel a lot more confident going out with a guy as handsome as jay now. as you’re fixing up your hair one last time, you’re stunned to hear the apartment door opening. she’s home? weird, but welcome. you need a second pair of eyes on you.

“hey! how do i look?” you say with a smile as you exit her bedroom, but you’re not greeted with hana’s smiling face. instead, you’re met with beomgyu’s frown.

“w-what are you doing here?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

“this is my girlfriend’s apartment. what are you doing here?” you thought he had heard over the phone that you’d be here to pick up the dress tonight. but then, you supposed that he may have been a little preoccupied sucking the skin off of hana to really pay attention to much else. you’re so busy over analyzing this, you don’t even notice how intently beomgyu is staring at you now. even if you did, you’d probably misread it as ridicule rather than what it truly is.

“nothing, i-i’m on my way out,” you reply simply. with that, you start trying to walk past him. before you can, though, he’s asking you questions.

"you're seriously going out with him? in that, too?” he asks, disgust apparent. at least, that’s what it sounds like to you. your eyes survey your own attire and you feel extremely small in this moment, all things considered. normally, you'd shut down and second guess yourself. maybe you do look a little ridiculous in this tiny dress and maybe going out with jay is a bad in idea. maybe he's just fucking with your head and maybe he'll toss you away just like beomgyu did. maybe, maybe, maybe. but then? maybe not. and even if he does, you don't want to hear any of that shit from beomgyu of all people.

"oh, fuck you, beomgyu."

he looks perfectly scandalized by your comment. you’ve never talked back to him before, and certainly not like this. his eyebrows raise and his jaw drops before he can finally choke out the words "e-excuse me?"

"i said fuck you. i really don't give a shit about what you have to say anymore."

you're again trying to barrel past him but he steps in front of the door, scowl etched into his pretty features.

"what? are you mad at me now?" you say mockingly. "well, you don't get to be mad at me. move."

it is genuinely amazing to see beomgyu as he is now. he looks like a child who's floundering for a comeback.

"w-why are you mad? i'm just looking out for you!" oh, you can't help but laugh in his face at that one. he winces when you do.

"my god, that's rich coming from you. what's the worst that could happen? we go on a couple of dates and then he ghosts me? can't say it hasn't happened before."

"th-that's different!" he sputters, face flushing beet red.

"different how?!" you counter. he’s such a fucking hypocrite. you're not the type to get so riled up, but his words have you seeing red. his next words, even more so.

"you... you don't even like me!"

"and why exactly would i like the man who ghosted me, again? you can kick rocks for all i care!" you try to steady your breathing. blowing up like this right before your first date with jay can't be good for your head. luckily, it seems like beomgyu is still fishing for words when you regain your composure. "whatever. i'm done. goodbye, beomgyu." you reach around him for the door handle, but he slams it shut.

"what the fuck?!" you exclaim exasperatedly.

"you don't understand," beomgyu says, voice trembling and eyes scarlet. "hana said you didn't like me."

"hana? what does hana have to do with — oh." oh.

"she said you didn't like me and thought i was obnoxious. she told me she called and interrupted our date because you wanted her to.”

“why didn’t you just ask, beomgyu? i liked you!” you exclaim. he ruined everything all because of a few words from someone else?

“why would i ask when hana told me that you didn’t want anything to do with me?”

"so you believed hana instead of just opening your fucking mouth? what, does she wipe your ass and spoon feed you, too?

“watch your mouth,” beomgyu says lowly.

“or what?” you taunt with a smirk. “you’ll be mad? is beomie bear gonna lose his temper?” you’re on your tiptoes now, face mere inches away from his. where you got the confidence to provoke the man who towers over you even on the worst of days, you have no idea, but the idea of seeing beomgyu squirm is lighting a fire in you you didn’t know existed. is he gonna hit you? scream in your face? you’re excited to see how he reacts. when his gaze flickers from your smiling eyes to your lips, you don’t even get half a second to question his odd look when his lips come crashing down onto yours.

his big hands grip the back of your head, holding you in place as he punishes your lips with a force you’ve only ever dreamt about. his lips are chapped and you can taste a hint of his favorite lip balm, which he had smeared on just before his arrival. you’re too shocked to move, you’re too shocked to do anything besides gasp when he bites your bottom lip. he takes your open mouth as permission to shove his warm tongue into it. you want to say the kiss is full of fire, and it is, but there’s an overwhelming sense of gentleness, too. it’s hard to put into words, so instead of trying to, you let yourself melt into the feeling. he takes your acquiescence as a sign to go even further. at this point, he’s practically dragging you over to the couch. you’re surprised at how you don’t even attempt to resist when he pushes you down. you’re seated now and he licks his lips hungrily as he lifts your pathetic excuse for a dress off of your body and tosses it somewhere behind the couch. his eyes alight with something akin to raw anger when he takes note of the fact that you are, in fact, not wearing a bra.

“you were seriously gonna go out like that? what a whore,” he says menacingly. you’re now clad in nothing but your favorite pair of underwear. you would usually feel insecure in front of such an intense gaze, but beomgyu looks at you like he wants to devour every part of you. and he will, with time.

“i thought jay would like it,” you shrug. his eyes burn even brighter and he looks like he’s on the brink of snapping. god, fucking with him is so exhilarating. is this how he feels when he’s trying to get under your skin? maybe you do understand why he antagonizes you, actually. this shit feels amazing.

he kneels down before you and possessively kisses your neck until it's numb — pouring out hot kisses and sucking on the skin there like he’s staking his claim. it’s almost like he’s daring another man to touch you, and he doesn’t have to say anything because it’s like you already understand his intentions, and you revel in it.

his lips travel down to your breasts and they almost ache in anticipation. cruelly, he avoids your pert nipples and opts to circle his tongue around them, sucking on the soft skin and leaving marks in his wake. one of his hands move down to your underwear and he stops his teasing when he feels how wet you are.

“j-jesus, is all this for me?” you’re too embarrassed to respond. he’s trying to keep his cool, but he’s taken aback by how soaked you are. he was already hard just from the kiss alone, but now he aches. he slides your underwear to the side and actually groans when he sees your slickness for himself. slowly, teasingly, he finds his way to your clit and you let out a soft gasp when he finally touches it. you’re unable to stifle a moan when he gingerly takes one of his long, calloused fingers and begins to push it into your cunt.

“t-tight!” he hisses. “how am i gonna fit?” you’d roll your eyes in annoyance at his self-aggrandizing words if you could muster up anything other than the feeling of pure bliss as he slides another finger in. he’s kneeling between your legs, and you feel some sort of sick satisfaction as you watch the boy lick his lips before trailing opened-mouth kisses on your thighs as he inches closer and closer to your cunt.

you feel his cool breath against your core and you’re seconds away from begging him to continue, but he seems even more eager than you are as he quickly buries his face into your heat. his first lick is long and slow, but you can feel the vibrations from his moan and it reverberates through your legs all the way to your toes. as if he’s a man starved, he messily licks and sucks on your pussy while pumping his fingers in and out mercilessly. you have to hold onto his long hair, not because you want to hurt him, but because it’s the only thing keeping you sane. when he hooks his fingers, you can’t help but call out his name.

“b-beomgyu!” his darkened eyes snap up to meet yours while his pace becomes even more punishing and, before you know it, you’re spasming around his fingers. he should stop there, but he continues with little kitten licks until you’re begging him to show you mercy.

he reluctantly parts from your cunt and you can see evidence of your release dripping down his chin. his messy hair, his soaked face, his fucking everything looks like it’s been branded by you and you can’t help but gulp, heat pooling in your stomach again, far too soon after your intense orgasm. usually, a man would wipe his face and clean himself up, but he does nothing of the sort as he leans towards you and practically pleads with you to kiss him.

“so good, want you to taste it,” he says simply as he pulls you in for another filthy kiss. he looks possessed, almost, by your taste. by your scent. by you.

your cum mixed with the taste of beomgyu himself is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. he wraps his tongue around yours, as if he’s selflessly just trying to share this new discovery.

he unbuckles his own pants like a madman, hastily yanking them down. so hypnotized, he doesn’t even think to take them off all the way, nevermind his shirt. his cock springs up and it’s thick and long, the angry veins juxtaposing from his perfect, doll-like face. he was right. you don’t know how he’ll fit in your tight pussy.

still, he ruts his bare cock against your throbbing cunt and you both moan when it accidentally catches against your entrance.

“c-condom?” you ask breathily.

“p-please, please just let me feel you. i can pull out,” he whines. who are you to say no to a man begging?

“...o-okay,” you begin to choke out, and almost before you can even finish, he’s pushing himself in. you both groan at the feeling. he meets resistance before he’s even halfway in and his eyes redden with a lust so strong it almost scares you.

“s-so tight, so perfect for me,” he says before pulling out and harshly ramming himself back in, sheathing himself completely in you. your eyes begin to sting with pure pleasure. he sits for a moment, just enjoying the way your pussy sucks him in. nothing in your life has ever made you feel this heavenly. not that you’re going to heaven, especially after this, and certainly not if hana has anything to say about it. oh my god, hana.

“w-wait,” you interrupt before he can pull out again. “we can’t! hana—”

“don’t give a fuck about hana. j-jus’ want you,” he slurs with that lisp that you love so much. and that’s when he really starts. ruthlessly, he sets his pace. ramming into you as the filthy sounds of skin against skin and slick against slick permeate the room. his head lulls back in sheer ecstasy and you’re crying out his name over and over, like a mantra. it’s the only thing chaining you to reality. that, and his viselike grip on your thighs.

“so g-good, so warm. never h-had a pussy this good before,” he praises as he continues drilling into you. one of his hands snakes its way to your clit and you’re seeing stars. hot tears spring in your eyes and you’re literally crying as his cock pushes you further and further off the deep end.

“so fucking good for me. you wouldn't even care if i came inside, would you, slut? walking around in that tiny dress, just begging to be fucked.”

“n-no! i’m not begging f-for anything,” you manage to choke out.

“really? but you look pretty fucking desperate right now. should i stop?” he asks with a mean smile, slowing down the speed of his hips snapping into yours.

“please don’t! i-i’m sorry. please don’t stop!” you whimper. he wasn’t gonna stop, anyway, but watching tears pour out of your eyes at the mere thought of his cock not being inside of you brings him to another level of smugness.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i won’t stop. i’ll give you exactly what you need.”

“b-beomie!” you cry. “not gonna last much longer!”

“me neither, pretty girl. fuck, come with me, okay?” he hisses.

“come inside?” you plead. he almost stills at this, but his brutal pace never stops despite it all.

“fuck! i knew that good girl act was a sham. you want me to get you pregnant so everyone knows who you belong to?”

“yes! d-don’t care. just want you,” you whine, mirroring his words from earlier. that’s enough to make him lose himself. his resolve snaps and he’s painting the inside of your walls while you helplessly clench around him. it takes a minute to catch your breath and you can’t help but lock eyes with beomgyu as he stays buried in your warmth. his gaze is still lustful, that much you know, but there’s an unknown feeling teeming in his eyes, too.

gingerly, he pulls out and you both watch as his cum trickles out of you. his eyes are alight with fascination and you don’t doubt for a second that he wants to lap it all up and feed it right back to you, but he doesn’t. he simply grabs your cheeks and pulls you in for another heavy kiss.

“wanted to do this for so long,” he says after you part.

“how long?” you can’t help but ask.

“since i saw you sitting alone at the café,” he shrugs and smiles shyly. he’s wanted you since he first saw you, which is enough to make you grin, but the blissful smile is wiped off of your face when you remember beomgyu isn’t just some random guy who’s attracted to you. he’s hana’s boyfriend.

you know now that she orchestrated the downfall of your relationship with beomgyu, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty as hell for fucking her boyfriend on her couch. oh my god, what have you done? you fucked your friend’s boyfriend in her own home. not only that, but you fucked raw and even let him come inside. you shiver when you recount his nasty words about getting you pregnant, and he really might’ve. you’re not on the pill or anything. oh god.

“i-i need to get out of here,” you say frantically. you hurriedly push him off of you and wince when you feel his cum leaking out of your cunt. you stumble to the bedroom, legs still weak from what just transpired, and grab your sweats and snake them back on.

“what are you doing?” beomgyu asks, confused and somewhat annoyed that you’ve effectively ruined the mood.

“i’m getting the fuck out of here. this… this whole thing was a mistake,” you say, on the verge of tears. you don't even deserve to cry, honestly, but you want to, anyway.

“a-a mistake? why? wait, don’t go!” he says, stepping in front of you again.

“beomgyu, are you fucking with me? you’re with hana! why wouldn’t this be a mistake? oh my god, and i-i’m not — i don’t take birth control. we really might’ve… fuck just move, please!” you plead. you think you might be on the verge of a panic attack, tears and snot streaming down your face. you just wish he would fucking move so you could get out of here and start fixing everything because the guilt you feel just by seeing his face is all-consuming. there’s no way you can face hana again after this. you’ll cut her out of your life, and when you’re courageous enough, you’ll tell her what you did to her. you’ll lose hana and all the rest of your friends once they hear about what kind of person you really are. and as for beomgyu, well, knowing hana, she’ll stay with him and you’ll be the homewrecker in this story.

“hey, shh, it’s okay,” beomgyu coos softly, taking your tear-streaked face in his big, warm hands. “talk to me. what are you thinking?” “i… i ruined everything,” you begin with a sob. “i hurt hana. you hurt hana. a-and everybody’s going to be so fucking mad at me. god, she’s never going to forgive me.”

“listen,” he says softly while rubbing the pads of his thumbs against the tears falling down your cheeks. “she lied to you, and she lied to me, too.”

“because she loves you, beomgyu. she only did it because she loves you so much,” you argue, tearing your face from his grasp, but he only locks his arms around your waist instead.

“and what about me? what about how i feel?”

“what are you trying to say?” you sniffle.

“i’m saying i meant it when i said i don’t give a fuck about hana. i’m sorry, but i don’t. i never did,” he says as if he’s coaxing a child. you want to believe his words so fucking badly, but you’ve seen the way they’ve been attached at the hip these past few months and you can’t help but feel like he’s just a) full of shit and/or b) pussydrunk on you. he can sense your apprehension and wants to tear his own hair out in frustration.

“can i be honest with you?” he asks.

you nod in response.

“i… i only started hanging out with her because i knew she was close to you. i don’t know if it’s because i wanted to get back at you or if i just wanted to see you more. maybe a bit of both, honestly. i-i know that’s wrong, but it’s true.” you’re at a loss for words. all you can ask is:

“why?” he chuckles at this.

“because i like you, dummy,” he says sweetly while releasing one of the hands that grips your waist, using it to fix up your hair. he likes you? the same beomgyu who has effectively harassed you for the past few months… likes you?

“you have a fucking hilarious way of showing it. i thought you hated me,” you retort.

“i was just teasing,” he says softly. “i just wanted you to notice me and nothing i did ever seemed to bother you.”

“well, it did,” you scoff.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly. “i just like you a lot, okay? i’m sorry for being an asshole. and i’ll make it up to you, i promise.” you want to say okay, but the fact remains that he’s still very much hana’s boyfriend. regardless of his feelings, you still betrayed her and your friends aren’t going to be very understanding of your situation with him. the only chance you have of retaining your friendships now is to cut beomgyu off and beg on your knees for forgiveness. but you like him. you really, really like him. and the temptation to relent is even stronger as he begins to plant kisses on your face along with promises to dump her and, in his words, to “be good from now on”. when his innocent kisses turn lustful and begin to trail down your neck, what else can you do besides agree?

notes pt. 2: so...? i hope this was okay i really do LMFAOO. i have no idea how this will be received. if it's bad, i might delete it because i truly don't know what i'm doing. anyway, feedback is always appreciated! it gives me the confidence to branch out like this so i'd love to hear from y'all :)

permanent taglist*: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

*minors and ageless blogs on my permanent taglist were not added for obvious reasons. i made the taglist before i decided to make supermodel smut, so if you would like to be removed from this or any future smut works, please message me!

937 notes · View notes

thecapricunt1616 · 4 months

Text

Pink Pony Club (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan "I'm up, and jaws are on the floor. Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door. Blacklights, and a mirrored disco ball Every night's another reason why I left it all" ♡ Summary: You're an Exotic Dancer / part time house mom at The Pink Pony, and end up falling for a man that is probably old enough to be your father. ♡ W/C: 2.9k ♡ Poste Date: 06/10/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello all! again, for the asks that are atp starting to mold in my inbox - imma get to you. This specific dirty old man in a suit has been making me feel things lately, so naturally I had to write some porn about it. Asks are still open even though I cant promise it'll be done snappy. Hope everyones week is off to a great start so far!! Tagged those who commented on the post saying this would be a good idea just so you could see how it came out, hope you like :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: Age gap relationships (R is in her mid-to-late 20's, mentions of sex work, Club environments, swearing, smut, rough sex (Richie likes to be slapped around sometimes, kay?) lowkey simp!Richie, no use of Y/N - pet names only, readers stage name is Pixie Polestar , unprotected sex, not edited, we die like men!

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had met Richie just about 2 months ago. It was safe to say, life had chewed him up and spit him out lately.

If he was being honest with himself, the dating pool wasn’t exactly rich at 46 years old. He could count on almost two hands how long it had been since he got his dick up for more than just the binightly pornhub browser.

That led him into the Pink Pony Club one fateful August night. You were working your usual shift, Pixie Polestar. You - unlike some of the other girls - really enjoyed your job. At least, the aspect of having fun on stage, doing cute, sexy little acrobat-like tricks on the pole while horny men paid you to take more of your clothes off?

Yes please.

You weren’t a back room kind of girl, usually. That was because the amount of money you made from tricks on the pole was more than a lot of the girls you worked with made in a whole shift while you just worked the 45 minute trick-filled stage set then would give a few $400 lap dances depending on your mood, before skipping on home, taking a hot shower, and slipping in your silk sheets with your air conditioner turning your bedroom something akin to an ice box.

That was how that night was supposed to go.

How the night really went, was some loud borderline obnoxious man at least 15 years your senior, had found his way into the Pink Pony. He was wearing a pressed navy blue suit, that complimented his pretty blue eyes. That was the second thing you noticed about him while he loudly whistled for Krystal who was currently doing her set.

You weren’t really supposed to be here anymore - well- you didn’t have to be here. You had found yourself a solution, a real career path if you will. But you enjoyed your time on the pole because it was art, and dancing was a confidence booster for you. In any regard, you were going to get older, you were going to pass your prime as the house mom was always telling you girls, so you needed another stream of income.

Of course, being a … *eh-hem* - exotic dancer was the word you preferred, stripper just sounded trashy to you, did come with its negative stereotypes, one of which being no where will rent to you - because you had terrible credit. So, naturally, being the resourceful woman you are - you walked your happy ass to the open house of a for sale by owner showing, and told the nice realtor you’d take it.

Boom. Done, you had a place to live in 3 weeks, when you closed on it. Then, it dawned on you. The other girls you worked with had the same issue you did. So, you found another house, saved another 25k for the amount to put down, and rented it to your coworkers.

It was the perfect system, because you knew you’d get your rent. You knew exactly how much money each girl made because you watched them make it, you knew where they lived, and they had to look you in the eye every night. So it’s easy to say no one ever tried you. The only real reason you hung around The Pink Pony anymore was because you wanted to keep an eye on your girls and dancing was fun too.

When he first laid eyes on you, it was something akin to a cartoon character when their pupils turn into hearts. It wasn’t too abnormal, you were one of the more bombshell-esc dancers at the club, and that isn’t to say that you outdid anyone it was all based on preference. Some men loved plain Jane’s, and the plain Jane’s were just as beautiful as any of the other girls, but the reaction of men basically tripping over their feet to try and come talk to you was more likely going to happen to you then anyone else.

But he…didn’t come over, that was interesting to you. So, you being the master of customer service you were, took your drink and kept your eyes locked on his as you made your way across the room, and plopped right in his lap. “Never seen you here before sweetheart” your manicured hand found the back of his neck, gently caressing over his skin.

He tried to play it cool, but your tits we’re basically in his face, he could smell your perfume perfectly, fuck he genuinely can’t believe that a girl so beautiful just sauntered over and sat in his fucking lap. Was he dreaming? He found his mind racing, and for once in his 46 years he was dumbfounded and couldn’t find anything to say.

“Cat got your tongue honey?” You smirked a bit, gently cupping his stubbly cheek and rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it snap back into place. He swallowed thickly, his hand resting on your bare thigh, just below the white glittery mesh coverup you were wearing.

“I’m Richie.” He blurted out, his cheeks felt like they were on fucking fire, any blood that wasn’t rushing there was rushing to his cock and he found himself wondering when the last time he’d gotten hard so easy was.

“Well hello Richie. I’m Pixie, what brings a handsome man like you in on a Friday night mm, no big plans?” You absentmindedly played with his chain, pretending to pay no mind to the long length that was hardening in the curve of your ass. All you would have to do is shuffle just a tiny bit and his cock would be nestled between your cheeks and the itty bitty powder pink g string that you wore beneath the tiny mesh piece of fabric that was basically for show and no use to cover anything.

“I guess I was lookin’ f’some entertainment. Think I found it” he spread his legs more, causing you to sink further into his lap and his hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb rubbing little up and down strokes over the smooth skin. He never believed that the sheer triple x rated porn movie he was creating in his mind would become a reality that night but man did it.

It was also his first night taking the dreaded viagra prescription his doctor had given him when he got real about his … shortcomings as of late. The man isn’t what he used to be stamina wise, okay? Nonetheless - he still rocked your shit - well, more like you rocked his.

Who knew this foul mouthed, old school, borderline toxic masculinity-entrenched motherfucker would get so much pleasure from your palm coming across his cheek just hard enough it left a yummy sting and telling him “My eyes are up here you old pervert” as you bounced on his cock with a rhythm he couldn’t bring to the table himself anymore, and that in turn causing your tits to bounce like a fucking hentai film less then a foot from his face.

Something about a younger girl calling him old and smacking him around all while using his cock to get herself off, babbling about how good he makes her feel made him more confident then he had been in years.

He often would find himself feeling a little pang of sadness after you started seeing eachother, in moments where you two were laughing a way he only ever did with Mikey before you came around, and making him feel like he was in fuckin’ High school again with how giddy he was to see you after every shift. All of it would just remind him how bad he wishes you could have met Mikey, and how bad he wishes he could tell Mikey.

Richie knows, he would be so jealous, but in a brotherly way - that such a young hot piece of ass, a young smart, hot, funny, piece of ass was calling him daddy, told him he was ‘her mans’ whatever the fuck that meant. He assumed girls today call their boyfriends that, there were a lot of little phrases and lingo you had to explain to him and would always make fun of him for being old after doing so.

He would tease you too, having some late 80s early 90’s radio station on (because the old head didn’t understand what streaming was) while he drove you around of course since he had learned from you that you were his ‘passenger princess’ and saying something like ‘oh babygirl this is before your time, this is from my day” before cranking up the radio and serenading you with Bad Girl by Madonna, belting it in such a silly, dramatic way between drags of his cigarette you couldn’t help but burst into giggles and kiss him at the next red.

You had told him that when you used to do private dances that Like a Virgin was one of your favorite to dance to for the ‘older’ gentleman, he spanked you playfully when you said his crowd was older as he usually did, and of course later that night he had you perform for him and you ended up getting your back blown out to material girl since you had been streaming the song from your phone and didn’t care to find it and turn it off.

When Tina had played it jokingly at family dinner one night, he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips at the memory. Funnily enough, she was the first person to find out about you. Of course, he didn’t divulge anything other than he was finally seeing someone consistently, nothing about your age or profession. Based on the way Tina had reacted with clapping and kissing his cheeks, gushing “I’m so proud of you papa! That’s so good, this is so good for you! You need to get out there more” he was reevaluating his social life or lack there of and telling himself he needed to get out more, which lucky for him you were young and bubbly so you could get him out of the house.

The next person he told, he really told, was Carmy. Well- technically Syd too, but she just happened to overhear.

“W-wait wait” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose how he did when he was baffled and confused, brows knitting together as he shook his head. “Lemme- lemme just get this straight - y’datin a…..”

“Ex-o-tic dancer, cousin. It’s 2024, fuckin hell. Women dance and get paid for it - no big deal.” He repeated, emphasizing each sound as if what he was explaining was the most casual thing in the world, which - you had explained to him it should be so he took that and ran with it.

“You’re fucking…a stripper- a stripper that’s what they’re called when they dance naked - and how old did you say she was?” Syd questions.

“Hey- she leaves her panties on she’s only naked top up, and plus she doesn’t even have to anymore she does it for the art.” He points the spoon he was wiping down at Carmy “this new NOMA bullshit we’re doin’ here isn’t the only art, Cousin. Shes an artist” he dropped the spoon in the bucket with the rest of the pristine ones he’d worked on.

“Sure- and she’s fuckin younger then me” Carmy replied. “She could be y’fuckin-“

“Yeah, yeah - whatever she could be my fuckin daughter where’s your girlfriend huh? I don’t see anyone linin’ up to fuck you. She’s nice, and into me - and - and she’s funny and smart. So see already 2 qualities named that I don’t see much of around here so excuse fuckin me f’wantin to be happy when I’m not in this shithole” he teased

“So- this not even 30 year old, she is gonna be y’date to the thanksgiving friends and family night - the one your daughter and ex wife are attending - and you think that will be a good idea considering tiff’s track record with girls you bring around” Syd questioned.

“Yup” was all he said before taking the now finished bin of spoons to be put away, glad for the conversation to have finally been over.

He rehashed the whole conversation with you later that night as you slowly rolled your hips into his, your skin sticking to his, both of you covered with a thin layer of sweat. You had his hands pinned next to his head, fingers interlaced with yours, practically speaking into your mouth as you kissed him sloppy and open mouthed, obsessed with eachothers taste. You always tasted of bubblegum, a habit you’d carried with you since childhood, he always tasted of cigarettes, a habit he had carried since high school.

“Baby with my job I’m used to people not understanding me - I didn’t expect your friends to like me. My job - it can make people uncomfortable. But fuck them. You know how we feel huh?” You picked up the speed of your hips, using the curly deep brown patch of hair at the base of his cock to cause the most delicious friction with each thrust on his cock as you chased your orgasm.

“Ye’ fuck em baby- shit- so fuckin tight- all mine right?” He breathed, mouthing over the bruises he’d left on your breasts a few nights ago. That was one thing about your job he had a bit of difficulty getting past, but you assured him you had no feelings for any clients and that you weren’t doing lap dances anymore only your stage set and otherwise you were just there to be more of a second house mom. But still, he was a man after all. He was possessive, a little jealous sometimes. So he loved to hear that you were only his during moments like this.

“Yes daddy- all yours. You own this- you own me” you kissed his hand before bringing it to your breast and then using his shoulders as leverage to bounce further up and down, the action causing his head to fall back and jaw to fall slack.

“Just like that - god- fuck - holy shit baby- shit-shit- y’fuckin close? How fuckin long has it been?” He pinched your nipple lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him and a pornstar like whine to leave your lips

“It’s been 15 minutes- Christ you’re like a teenager. Can’t even last 30 minutes?” You teased, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting and nibbling the skin as you circle your hips, essentially jutting the tip of his cock into your g spot and that floaty feeling sneaking up on you as you feel him shoot rope after rope of arousal, painting your pretty, gummy walls a milky white and his stomach muscles clenching at the overstimulation.

The grunts and moans that left his lips when you got him here were some of the hottest noises you’d ever heard a man make before, you were always sure to file them away in a special little folder in your brain for a rainy day he wasn’t able to get you off himself. “Feel good daddy?” You asked sweetly, sitting up and resting your hands on his hips so you could look down and watch as your mixed arousals gush out of you and around him, thick strings breaking with each slow, purposeful roll of your hips

“So fuckin good baby- Jesus gonna finish soon? Dunno how much more I can do” he said, voice breathy, blissed out, nearly whiny.

“Mmhmm few more minutes daddy- god we’re so pretty, I bet we taste so good mm?” You swipe the pad your forefinger over your clit, gathering the sweet and bitter white, making a show of rubbing it over the hardened bud of your nipple “feels good, too, wanna tell me how it tastes?” You leaned in and he nearly groaned as he took your breast in his mouth, crystal like eyes seeding into your own gaze as he flicked his tongue gratefully around the sensitive nub.

You whined hotly, the sight of your tit in his mouth mixed with the feeling of his pants huffing through his nose and fanning over the swollen flesh as his tongue swirled and licked and flicked and drove you over the edge. You cried out, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. His hand found your heat, rubbing with scissored fingers over your clit and meeting around his cock before dragging his fingers back up to repeat the assault.

The action had you gushing around him, the contractions of your heat getting stronger causing him to groan into your skin and that vibration just added more stimulation. “Fuck yes- god daddy- always make me feel so good, no one understands how good we make eachother feel hm? Nothing else matters, baby, as long as you feel good, right?”

You pulled him in for a sloppy, hot, passionate kiss. A kiss that made his heart do flips, and his stomach flutter, and made him feel way lighter.

Richie thought to himself in that moment he may be falling in love again, and he was equal parts fucking terrified, and excited to see where things with you went.

He just had to get over ripping off the very last bandaid, and then you could really be together -

And that bandaid was Tiff.

@aestheticaltcow - @myszie - @wtfsteveharrington

#CapriCarmy Oneshot #the bear fic #the bear #borders & banners by saradika #the bear 🐻#the bear fandom #Richie The Bear #richie jerimovich x fem reader #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich smut #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #Richie Jerimovich x fem!reader #richie jerimovich imagine #Richie Jerimovich blurb #Richie Jerimovich drabble #Richie Jerimovich fanfiction #Richie Jerimovich the bear fanfiction

243 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Dirty Work 42

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I've had a headache every day this week. I swear I want one good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sit on the sofa, the bird still firmly perched on your shoulder. Bragi shows you the twelve-string, strumming lightly between stories about his travel abroad. Laufeyson glowers as he sits in the high-backed chair recently cleared of its clutter. The stout blond is quite talkative, it makes you wonder why your boss even brought you here.

"I'll be playing at Walpurgisnacht, so you will see me tomorrow," Bragi stands and places the guitar in a stand among several other stringed instruments, "perhaps Fossegrim will come too... he likes to sneak into my bag."

The bird squawks and tilts up and down.

"Likes you too," Bragi remarks. "Not as fond as your companion, I'm afraid."

Laufeyson shifts with a huff, "shall we continue to ramble? I did come for a reason."

"I nearly forgot," Bragi declares, "you requested it so long ago I nearly forgot."

"Yes, well, I left in a hurry my last visit and could not drop by, my apologies," Laufeyson rises and dusts off his trousers.

"Right, up in my office."

They leave you without much regard. You set aside your empty cup as Fossegrim rests his beak against your hair. He is rather big, your shoulder is sore from his weight, and yet he is comforting. You sit straight and hold out your fingers shyly. He bends to touch them and dips his head. You pet his feathers, uncertain what to do with yourself.

You hear a thump from above and a grunt. You look up as the bird hops down to the cushion. You rub your hands together and stay as you are. You don't want to intrude, besides, the place is so crowded, there isn't much space to move.

At last, you hear the stairs creak and the men's voices precede their reappearance. Laufeyson holds a wrapped parcel under his arm as a shank of hair hangs past his ear, dangling along his cheek before he sweeps it back. You wonder what happened.

"Sorry about the rug," Bragi chuckles as he scratches his neck.

"Yes, not to worry," Laufeyson dismisses, "as it were," he looks at his watch, "my mother will be less impressed with our delay."

"You will send my regards," Bragi smirks crookedly.

"I will let her know we saw you," he retorts, "let us be off."

He waves you over. You say goodbye to Bragi as you cross the room and the parrot wings over your head, rustling your hair as he lands on the banister post once more. He lets out a chitter and receives a hush from his owner.

"Best go before he grows more obnoxious."

You offer a tight smile as Mr. Laufeyson opens the door and you step outside. It's dark and the moon beams down brightly. You silently descend the steps and near the car. He doesn't say a word as he unlocks the door and you climb in opposite him.

He starts the car and steers onto the street without a word. You feel as if you've done something terribly wrong. You look at your lap and drag your sweat palms over your skirt.

"We need to be very clear about things, pet," he begins as the leather squeaks beneath his grip, "tomorrow, you must stay close to me. No more breaking the rules."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. I'm sorry--"

"Do you remember the rules? That I asked you to be honest with me," he hisses, "yes? I know you recall, you are brighter than you look, aren't you?" He slaps the wheel, "if you need... time, or anything, you can tell me. You must tell me otherwise... otherwise how can our arrangement work? If I am ignorant of what you require, how can I provide it? You cannot be upset that I do not know."

"I... I'm not upset," you murmur.

"Yes, but if you were upset," he exhales heavily, "then I would like to know the reason for it. I--" He stops himself and shakes his head at the road, "I am only saying, if there is some issue between us, you cannot merely run away and hide."

"I didn't--"

"Yes, yes, you were reading," he cuts in, "I do hope you enjoyed your little story."

"It won't happen again, Mr. Laufeyson," you avow.

He takes a deep breath, "that's all?"

"I... I'm not upset, I said, I only..." you mull the words on your tongue, wondering if they'll even matter. "I've never been far from home."

He nods as he slows, idling at a sign, "very well."

You accept his response as he accepts yours. Tension lingers but neither of you wants to add to the boiling stew. So you look out the window and he glares out the windshield, driving on in repressed agitation.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson leaves you alone that night, bidding you to keep the door locked and nothing else. You know for certain he's unhappy with you. You've already put a damper Walpurgisnacht and it's not even begun.

You sit in the small cone of light cast by the lamp and try to read but find the task impossible. So you tuck away Jane and her troubles and lay down to sink into your own. You don't see the next day going well at all. No better than any that have come before.

Perhaps it might be better if you found a reason not to be there. You could keep the white dress on the hanger and just stay inside where you can't do anything wrong. No one would miss you very much.

It's Frigga's celebration and you aren't an Odinson, no one would know any better. Mr. Laufeyson would be free to enjoy himself and not worry about you irritating him. That's all you seem to do.

Your eyes close heavily and you tumble down into a turbulent sleep. Dread colours your dreams and wakes you several times in the grim hues of the moonlight. The fitful night drags on into a dull morning, shining over you until it sears through your eyelids.

Walpurgisnacht. April 30th. A day that feels like a page turning.

You sit up and sift slowly through the early hours as if wading through sand. You wash and ready in the bathroom, ignoring the memories of two nights ago, the echoes of your whines, and the coiling of his touch. Now, he won't even use you. This could be it. When you leave this place, you may also be departing this life. It might just be for the better.

The event doesn't begin until the afternoon. Frigga said as much before. So you pull on a pair of tan pants and a peachy shirt. You near the door but don't flip back the lock. You should wait for a cue. For permission.

You stand at the window and watch the day bloom. The dew gleams on the leaves and petals and the air is fragrant with spring. Oddly, it does feel refreshing.

There's a soft tap, one you're not certain you heard. You turn and lean on the window ledge and hug yourself. It comes again followed by your name. Mr. Laufeyson's voice is just as even-keeled as the night before. Empty of any expression. That's worse to you than anger.

You emerge, head down, and bid him a good morning. You're met by a curt 'morning' and he ushers you down the hall. You smell bacon as you descend and the crackle of grease hisses in a pan. You walk side-by-side with Laufeyson out onto the veranda.

Odin sits, stirring a cup of coffee with a silver spoon.

"Ah, good morning," he chimes, "Joyous Walpurgisnacht!"

"Yes, happy day," Laufeyson intones and sits. You take the seat at his shoulder.

Your attention is drawn by men in work clothes out in the yard. They must be setting up for the celebration. You wonder how you should ask to excuse yourself from the event. You might pretend to be unwell. You don't entirely feel great.

"Happy Walpurgisnacht!" A thunderous boom makes you jump and grab Laufeyson's arm. He merely groans as Thor approaches and drags out a chair, dropping down with a sigh, "father, brother... lady, isn't it a wonderful morning?"

"Son," Odin squints at his son's open shirt, his chest shamelessly bare to the sunlight.

"Mmm, coffee," Thor pours from the carafe then adds a handful of sugar cubs to his cup. Laufeyson helps himself to tea before offering you some with a twitch of the spout. You accept with a nod and a please.

"Coffeeeeee," an echo drawls in the air as Hela strides in, chewing a strip of bacon absconded from the kitchen.

"Ghostly as ever, sister," Thor guffaws.

"Ugh, must you?" She snarls as she slumps into a chair, "ew, do those buttons not work?"

Thor smiles as he looks down at his torso, "it's warm."

"Or maybe it's the hot air stuck in your head," she retorts.

"Children," Odin rebuffs, "please, it is a holiday. Let's try to get along."

Laufeyson says nothing as he sips from his tea. You peek at him, finding his eyes narrowly set on his father. Another twinge pinches in your chest. You hope you haven't made things worse between them.

"Oh, we are all here already," Frigga flutters in, canary fabric swishing around her, "wonderful."

"Wife," Odin outstretches an arm and she goes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Mother," the siblings murmur in unison as you eke out her name.

"We will begin breakfast soon, I just checked with the staff, it is almost ready, but first," she pokes her elegant nail in the air, "there is one matter I need attend to. It won't take very long at all."

She smiles at Odin as he returns the sweet expression, then her eyes meet yours. Her cheeks pinken just a little. She sweeps away and disappears through the open doors. You hear her trill as she speaks to the staff.

"She is up to something," Hela slithers.

Laufeyson hums in agreement.

"Father," Thor peers over at Odin as he brushes his fingertips over his beard.

Odin shrugs, "I haven't any idea."

"Liar," Hela accuses, "you are not so sly as you think."

"I swear--"

"He definitely knows," Thor insists, "Loki, doesn't he? You see it, can't you?"

"I suppose..." Laufeyson squints and lets his voice dissolve into nothing.

"Here we go..." you hear Frigga chime before she appears again, "happy birthday to you..."

The song begins as two maids carry between them a double-tiered cake decorated with perfect white dollops of icing topped with raspberries. Your stomach gurgles and your chest racks as you sit up, caught in headlights as Thor and Odin join in on the melody but Hela and Laufeyson merely lean forward curiously. You gulp and look down at your lap.

As Frigga leads the chorus into your name, your shoulders slope and you turn your face away, tears stinging your eyes. How could she know? As nice as it all is, it's too much. You don't deserve any of this.

"Birthday..." you hear Laufeyson whisper quizzically.

You brace the armrests and push yourself to your feet as the song ends and the cakes placed before you. Your lips tremble as you look around the table. You can barely squeak out your apology before you flee, Frigga's hand glancing off yours as she tries to stop you.

You hurry away from the veranda, hurtling up the path blindly. You plunge into the brush and around the curving trails, retracing the same route Odin led you the day before. You clamour up to the gazebo and hide within, collapsing onto a bench as you fold over and shield your head.

Why would she do it? You don't matter! It's all too much. You don't want to pretend anymore. You don't want to act like you belong. You want them to let you go. You want Laufeyson to just do it already and throw you away.

You sit, bent over, weak and shaking, just breathing, paralysed. You hunch amid the songs of birds and the rippling of water. You can't move. You just want to stay and never come out.

A scuff makes you flinch. You lift your head to look over as a shadow steps into the archway. You raise yourself up straight and face Mr. Laufeyson.

"I didn't know it's your birthday," he says.

You don't say anything. Why would you tell him? Why would he care?

He lowers his chin, sliding his hands into his pockets as he steps into the stone structure, "if I'd known--"

"It doesn't matter," you say, "it's just another day."

"Mm, well..." he begins in a fragile tone, "I wouldn't agree. Birthdays are special..."

"Not mine," you pout.

His cheek ticks and bows his head, nodding as he thinks, "but... my mother did try to make it special..." he chews on his lip as he looks at you, "she's worried."

"She shouldn't care so much. She isn't my mother."

"But she is a good mother," he argues, "and she only wanted to include you."

"And I'm just as ungrateful as my father said," you sniff, "I'm sure you'd agree."

"I don't."

"Sure. It's why you left me alone all night. It's why you were so mad that I dare read a book. I know, Mr. Laufeyson, I know."

"Know what?"

You huff and cross your arms.

"I know better," you stand and jut your chin out. "I broke the rules again, I'm sorry."

"The rules... that isn't-- why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" You challenge.

"Please, I didn't come to lecture me--"

"I know the rules. I remember. I will be good," you drop your arms and force your spine straight, "I will apologise to Frigga and thank her. You're right. You're always right. I was wrong."

You go to step past him and he catches your arm, pulling you to face him, "stop."

"Mr. Laufeyson, is that not what you want? For me to be good? I'm sorry I made you look bad. I only... was surprised," you carefully measure your voice and force a smile, "tell me what to do, Mr. Laufeyson and I will obey."

His brows slant and he swallows tightly. He squeezes your wrist then releases you, "apologise," he breathes, "say thank you."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you reply and march through the door, "whatever you wish."

You keep your gait steady and set. He follows behind you and catches up. You return to the veranda in curdling silence. As the rest look up at you, you gather what's left of your strength.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I was only surprised and I... panicked."

"Dear, it's okay, I should've warned you," Frigga coos.

"I really appreciate it," you sit as Laufeyson pulls out your chair, "really..." you look at the pink cake, "I never had a birthday cake before."

As the words escape, you clamp your lips shut. It's only the silence that makes you realise how pathetic that must sound. You put your chin down and try to hide your embarrassment.

"Of course, dear," Frigga fills the dead air, "would you like to cut the first piece?”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #maid au #series #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

216 notes · View notes

sad-ghost-of-garbage · 3 months

Text

Nicknames with the Lost Boys

Affectionate and Goofy nicknames for and from the boys

Author: SadGhostofGarbage Warnings: this is a crackfic! It’s only semi serious. There is some NSFW headcannons so MDNI!

David:

David’s nicknames for reader: Kitten, Kitty, Kit Cat, Doll face, Beloved, and My Queen (Yes even as a male reader, David believes himself the King so naturally his partner is his other half despite gender. He regards his partner as the chess Queen to his King; here is a lil blurb of how I see the conversation going, the first time it happens.

Male reader x David: “Um David, why did you call me your Queen? I am a whole grown ass man?” “Beloved, you are the most important piece on my chess board, since I'm clearly the King, you are my other half.” The bastard has the audacity to say condescendingly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You do realize that means I should be protecting you right?” That wipes the smirk right off his face, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Absolutely not happening”. He says with teeth grit in a firm line. “You are not putting yourself in any danger ever.” “Then by chess standards that makes you the Queen”. It was your turn for the shit eating grin, the expression on his face was priceless. It is definitely one of your favorite ways to tease him from that moment on. If however it causes you discomfort he will refrain from using it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still tease him with it. You will be punished accordingly after every instance you jokingly call him “my Queen”, but teasing him is half the fun. Side note, Paul tries to help by suggesting you combine the two, “One of you can be, Quee-ing, and the other can be Ki-een. BOOM! Problem solved, you’re welcome!” Spoiler… It does not solve the problem.

Things that David secretly loves being called, its a “secret” because he “doesn’t do nicknames”: Handsome, Cowboy, My King, My one, My love, basically anything that has a possessive edge implying that David is readers everything (Daddy loves to be needed)

Things reader (and the boys) call him that he “hates”: Daviey (Paul’s go to mostly), Marko calls him Daddy as if he were confessing to a Catholic priest during confession; “Daddy I’ve been naughty” instead of “forgive me father for I have sinned”. Chaos ensues and you will catch David chasing Marko around the cave on multiple occasions for this very reason. David won’t admit out loud that he’s okay with his partner calling him Daddy but he does prefer Sir, but if it revs your engines then he will graciously allow you to call him Daddy. Moral of the story… David is a butthead.

Names David actually hates being called: Baby, And any nickname that is overly obnoxious like : Stud muffin, or Pookie.

Dwayne:

Dwayne’s nicknames for reader; Darling, Sweetheart, Baby/Babygirl/Babyboy (if it is Babyboy, just know Paul is jealous), Mama or Nobi for a non gendered version (of a parental name that both he and Laddie call a parental figure reader), Prince/Princess/Princex

Dwayne’s nicknames from the reader and the boys, they are all fair game for D-man: Papa, Big man, D, Snuggle bear, Big Cat, Baby Daddy

Nicknames that are affectionate when it comes from reader, and jokingly when coming from the boys: Gigantus, Tall Dark and Dracula, Skater boy, Dork

Paul:

Paul’s nicknames for Reader: Sugar, babe, bug, Beautiful/Handsome/Gorgeous, Hot Stuff, My cute lil capri sun! If you're still human. Bit will continue to call you that after you become a vamp as well, he just likes biting. (fun fact I looked up when capri-sun came out, the answer? 1969! its cannon!)

Paul’s nicknames from reader and the boys: Paulie, Puppy, Pretty boy, jellybelly~ Paul got high af and cried because his blood wasn’t jelly bean flavored after he ate 12 bags of them. “I wanna be a jellybean damn it” 😭 NSFW: I saw a post going around about sucking Paul’s dick and my brain went… ah a Paulie pop… and now it lives rent free in my head so have that too

Marko:

Marko’s nicknames for reader: Angel, Dove, Love, precious one, Sunshine, Tesoro / my treasure (if you headcannon him as an Italian, as many do 😉) the Juliet to his Romeo if you're a fem reader (until you point out that Juliet was like 13 and Romeo was 16. And comparing your love to that of children was not as romantic as he assumed it was. Those names quickly get abandoned)

Nicknames for Marko: Cassanova, Italian Stallion, Stud, Angel (the first time reader calls him angel you both argue over who gets to call the other angel, and it ends with an intervention from David. “You are both little devils, you brats!” you both continue to call each other angel, and David continues to call you both little devils.)

Nicknames that will get get you (or the boys) in trouble and not the good kind: Cherub, bird boy.

side note, I'd love to hear what nicknames you guys think the boys like being called and call their partners

Taglist: @ria-coolgirl, @britany1997, @henhouse-horrors. If you want added to my Lost Boys taglist lemme know!

#the lost boys #sgog #sgog writes #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #tlb david x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb marko x reader

118 notes · View notes

eegasleega-will-change-this-l8r · 6 months

Text

WELL I WAS PLANNING ON PLAYING CELESTE THIS EVENING BUT INSTEAD I WILL NOW DEVOTE IT ENTIRELY TO INDULGING MY HYPERFIXATION

IT'S FINALLY TIME FOR A PORKY POST

Are Ness and Porky Friends...?

Let's talk about that 😏

First things first, I think this single moment from the beginning of the game is by FAR the most important thing to consider when thinking about how Ness and Porky's relationship is presented to us

Right at the start, when you make your way up to the meteorite, you will encounter the cops and their blockade This also serves as our first introduction to our wonderful neighbor, Porky Minch, who is currently making a nuisance of himself trying to get up to the meteorite, much to the cops' chagrin

One of the cops asks if we could help deal with Porky, and asks this vital question:

What's Ness's answer? Yes!

...or no.

I cannot understate how obsessed with this I am. Ness can't say whether or not Porky is really his friend. This is something he's unable to answer on his own. I really think this is a fantastic way to introduce Porky to the player. If he is Ness's friend... it doesn't seem like he's a very good one.

Now shortly after this, Porky begs for Ness's help in finding Picky. We get a pretty good look at Porky's character here. He's obnoxious, rude, doesn't take responsibility for his actions, and above all is pretty meek and cowardly. Now, I think some people go a little far in interpreting him as "bad" here. Porky's undeniably a jerk even now, but he's still just a kid, and a pretty pathetic one at that. If you look on the Earthbound wiki, you'll see that his age is listed as 14. As far as I'm aware, this only has one source, being Saori Kumi's Earthbound novelization. If you know even the slightest thing about this book, you will understand how ludicrous it is to use this as a source. Porky's age is never specified ingame, but I think his overall presentation implies that he should be the same age as Ness. It's fairly well-known that Ness's age is given as 13 in the American guide, but 12 in Japanese. 12 is also the age given in, again, Saori Kumi's novelization, unfortunately I don't know if this is stated elsewhere. It can also be noted that Shigesato Itoi has actually said he never thought of a specific age for Ness, just that he had his daughter in mind who at this time was in grade 4 or 5. So this gives us a range that could be as old as 13 or as young as 9. Personally, I skew toward 11-12 for how I envision the characters. In any case, Porky's clearly very young, so you really have to keep that in mind when considering... kinda everything about him, actually. But in this instance, it really contextualizes the stuff he says. For example, if you say no to him when he asks for your help, he threatens to "say something that'll cut you like a knife." I think it's silly to take this seriously (i've even heard someone describe it as Porky blackmailing Ness). He's clearly just gonna call Ness some mean name or something. ...Except he doesn't. Say no to him again, and he'll immediately deflate.

Porky is in no way a bully. He's annoying, but he's pretty lousy at being intimidating. Instead, his favorite way of getting what he wants is to appeal to others' sympathy. He's relying on Ness to help him by virtue of being "his bestest friend." Or think of his actions in battle: smiling insincerely, apologizing profusely, pretending to cry. He plays up being a sweet innocent kid whenever he's in trouble.

So, I think the picture we've painted is of a kid who's sort of a jerk, and tricks others to get what he wants. It becomes pretty clear why Ness isn't sure if he can really call Porky his friend.

...But what about Porky's side? Is he really only pretending to like Ness for his own gain, or are his own feelings much more complicated?

First off, just some minor things. While Porky leaves a pretty bad, if not altogether inaccurate first impression, there's a few things in his dialogue that speak to him thinking of Ness as more than just 'that loser who thinks we're friends.'

He promises that he'll tell Ness all about the meteorite in the morning. Probably this'd be in his typically boastful Porky-fashion, but even so, this shows that he wants to share things with Ness.

It's easy to miss because most people playing Earthbound have played A Video Game's before, and also tend not to ignore directions the game is clearly telegraphing, but Porky will actually give you advice if you're not properly prepared.

If you don't grab the Cracked Bat:

You're not taking anything on our big adventure? Why don't you look around for your Cracked bat or something?

Taking the bat but not equipping it:

Sorry about giving you this game-type advice, but you should equip your weapon! Do you know what "equip" means?

Yes:

Okay, that's good. Be sure to pay attention to details like that.

No:

It means "use" or "wear." You must equip items in order to use or wear them. "Equip" is used a lot in games like this, but you already knew that...

Finally, not answering your dad:

The phone is ringing! Answer it! At my house, my dad gets bent if I don't get the phone... within the first three rings!

These aren't anything groundbreaking, but they do show how Porky acts with Ness in casual contexts, plus how the game presents Porky surprisingly neutrally in the beginning, rather than just immediately telegraphing him as the villain. Also, nobody's seen these so hey, some obscure trivia for you.

Finally, Porky's reaction to hearing the prophecy is pretty telling of the kind of character Porky is pre-Giygas. He just talks about how much trouble Ness is in now, how he hopes he doesn't have to come, and how freaked out he is. I think this sums him up pretty well. He's the meek comic-relief friend character. Sniff from Moomin, for example. Or go watch Monster House, because Chowder is literally exactly Porky.

But none of that is super juicy. Let's dive into something juicy. This little bit murdered my brother when we got to it in our playthrough.

A quick detour to Magicant...

Ness... I envy you. You have all the luck. I have no luck. Ness... well, okay... Let's be friends forever, alright?

still hurts

Yeah so first off, I think this totally clears up Ness's feelings towards Porky. He can't say if they're really friends... But he WANTS them to be.

This is Ness's vision of Porky, the Porky he used to know before Giygas corrupted him, and the one he wishes was still around.

But even if this is just a manifestation of Ness's consciousness, I think it also gives us a look into Porky's inner self. This is what Ness sees in Porky, the confession that Porky is too insecure to say out loud. He hides it behind all his boasting and rudeness, but he really, really wants to keep his friendship with Ness.

Well.

If only.

Let's get to MOTHER 3.

This game gives us SO much more of Porky's character, and it's all sooooo deep. I cannot understate how much I hate seeing Porky reduced to 'that Eric Cartman kid who is an absolutely irredeemable suchnsuch.' King P is the culmination of a lot of aspects of Porky's character arc (you think this post is long, it's only the first of many more...), but one of the most prominent aspects is his unbelievably, painful, PATHETIC loneliness. This kid... man... is so desperate for a friend after he left the only person who ever wanted to connect with him that he literally brainwashes a whole city's worth of people into loving him.

And of course that's not enough, because all he wants is his next-door neighbor, his good buddy, his bestest friend Ness.

In closing, are Ness and Porky friends? It's complicated. Both clearly, desperately want to be. They have a history, they know each other intimately, by Itoi's own words they literally grew up playing together. But, for a number of reasons (that I've thought all too much about...), Porky just can't help but make it difficult. I'd sum it up by listening to the song that plays during Earthbound's cast credits. In the end, there are good friends, and...

#earthbound #mother 3 #mother series #porky minch #pokey minch #ness earthbound #emilyramblings #and holy fudge do i ramble #i just cannot shut up when it comes to porky minch #and there's so much i still need to talk about...

164 notes · View notes

akoyaxs · 1 year

Text

Dangerous Games - III ✮ Pairing: Aonung x Tayrangi/Omotikaya fem reader (possible Neteyam x reader as well) ✮ Tags: Reader POV, friends with benefits, p in v, aftercare, fluffy fluff fluff, Aonung x Reader, slight Neteyam x reader, reader has intimacy issues (childhood traumaᵕ̈), jealous Aonung, jealous Neteyam <3 ✮ Word Count: 5.4 k PART 1 HERE | PART 2 HERE Note: this (backstory and character dynamic) is heavily based of my wattpad fanfiction "Dangerous Game", it's just a little more mature than I would post on my WP so I'm doing a Aonung x reader part now instead of the Aonung x OC in the fanfiction ˙ᵕ˙

You didn't exactly make a mistake, you know that, yet it's not the best position to be in. On one hand, there's a massive, obnoxiously hot skxawng that is obsessed with you, happy to do anything you like, but on the other, the principal for not giving in to his endless and amused attempts at seduction has dismally failed.

Yet every few days different encounter isn't exactly making you regret your acceptance of his "friends with benefits" offer.

You might get hot from training, or Aonung might be frustrated with his unsuccessful attempts at ikran taming, and suddenly you're finding his head buried hungrily between your legs, or bent over as he's balls deep and roughly thrusting, all the while smoothing your hair and whispering his moaned praise.

You're always careful to not get attached, to never pay too much attention to the sincerity of his words and his surprising gentleness with you when you aren't in the middle of one of your "benefits", but you can never miss it.

It's starting to worry you, the way you're now starting to like the tender touches, the way he brushes your hair out of your face and tells you how well you're doing.

No one has ever been this careful with you, bothered to try at look after you like this. You know it's your fault that you push everyone away, but Aonung is the first to refuse to be pushed away.

He cares, for some inexplicable reason that makes no sense to you. He's infuriatingly stubborn, just like you are.

So weeks after the arrangement began, you begin to notice the other things, things that only mean one thing.

"He really likes you, you know."

"What?" you say, snapping out of your daze and looking up at Kiri, who smiles, her eyes darting to where yours had just been watching Aonung with Rotxo in the river.

You, the three metkayina and the Sullys had taken the day to go to the river so Rotxo, Tsireya and Aonung could swim.

Neteyam looks up from besides you as you frown at Kiri.

"What are you talking about?" you clarify.

"Aonung is obviously down fucking bad for you," Kiri grins. "I mean, he can't ever pull his eyes away from you, and when you aren't around him, he's always looking around to see where you are."

"No he's not," you scoff. "He-"

"Loves you," Neteyam finishes, his face blank and bored, as though he's pointing out the fucking obvious.

"No," you shake your head. "He just had a little thing for me at the start that-"

"Has grown into an unbearable love?" Kiri suggests. "The only question is if that love is unrequited or reciprocated."

"No!" you exclaim, covering your face. "We're just... friends. ish. Friendish."

"Right..." Neteyam says, raising his brows at you. "So you don't fuck."

"That's - that's- no- well, yeah but- I mean NO-"

"Oh Eywa," Kiri says, her incredulous laugh interrupting your awkward, desperate stammers. "You totally do!"

"That's not a big deal," you snap. "He's attractive and it doesn't mean anything, we're just... helping each other out, I guess."

Kiri mouths the words helping each other out, before turning and shooting her brother a disbelieving look. Neteyam's gaze is still and expressionless, flicking between your flushed face and Aonung in the river.

You follow his gaze to see Aonung staring at you, and you quickly turn away, grabbing Neteyam to do the same.

"It's just sex, nothing else," you say strictly.

"Yes," Kiri sighs. "But you're old enough to have more. You could find a mate. Besides, you deserve to be happy-"

"You don't have a mate," you say defensively.

"She has Rotxo," Neteyam points out. "Lo'ak and Tsireya have each other. You're the only one who-"

"You don't have a mate either," you protest.

"Well that's different," Neteyam sighs. "I'm the next Olo'eyktan, remember? I can't just pick anyone for my mate, and besides, who I want-"

"WHO?" you say excitedly. "Is there someone else?!"

Neteyam doesn't answer, and you tackle him to the floor excitedly, shaking his shoulders and demanding he tells you who. Neteyam reluctantly opens his mouth to speak, but then he looks over your shoulder and quickly closes it.

Aonung is standing there, so massive that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. You have to admit that it's hard to not stare too hard- his paler smooth teal skin is glittering with little gleaming droplets of river water, and when you're this low besides him, you're kneeling for a very different task.

You don't need him to speak to understand what he's thinking about, but it's a question of why. However you just slide off of Neteyam who was still pinned underneath you and stand up.

Neteyam's face hardens as he watches you face Aonung, brows raised and waiting for him to speak.

"Can I speak to you?" Aonung asks dully.

Kiri is gaping, Rotxo and Lo'ak are laughing to themselves whilst Tsireya is adorably oblivious, and Neteyam is watching silently and emotionlessly as you nod and follow Aonung through the trees. You can feel his cold golden gaze burning into your back until you slip between the trees, and even when you know he couldn't see you any longer, you can feel the ghost of his inexplicable gaze between your shoulder-blades.

"Yes?" you ask, once you pause a little while away.

"Is there something between you and Neteyam?" Aonung asks, frowning down at you.

You blink confusedly back. You weren't expecting him to speak- expecting more of the usual quick fuck so you could both release some tension then head back to the others.

"What do you mean, something between me and Tey?"

"You call him Tey, for one thing," Aonung points out. "And you're with him a lot-"

"Funny," you say, folding your arms. "Because he says the exact same thing about you."

"But we're actually fucking," Aonung says, without any pretence of a smile in his blunt, deep voice.

"What are you trying to say," you ask with narrowed eyes.

"Do you- uh -have any other friends," he asks, arms folded and blue eyes fixed challengingly in your golden-amber ones.

"What does that matter?"

"Because I want to know what I have to share," Aonung growls.

There's a strange, almost possessive glint in those ocean eyes now. Share. He thinks that he needs to share you.

"Why would it matter," you whisper. "We're not anything, this is just an arrangement. You're free to do whatever you like too."

You think for a moment that you broke Aonung. He is completely still, glaring so irately down at you with those blazing, large blue eyes as you try to guess what he's going to do next. But he still manages to surprise you when he leans forward and crashes his lips onto yours.

Everything has always been tentative, frightened to cross the barrier that would be too much for the other, but Aonung just doesn't seem to give a damn right now.

His mouth is warm and hungry, fangs lightly nipping your soft lips, hands roaming and grabbing and caressing with careless oblivion in a way that makes your skin ache afterwards in a welcome sting and bruise.

Then suddenly you're lifted up and you're on your knees right there on the forest floor. You can feel Aonung's breath hot and heavy as he nips at your neck, folded over your much smaller, arched body and sliding your tewngs away with quick hands.

"Is this-"

"Yes it's fine," you say, gasping a little as you feel yourself being stretched open, small stings of pain shooting through you as you drop your forehead to the ground and grunt. This is different to before, bent completely over with your face pillowed against the ground.

When he starts to move, it completely knocks your breath out, so you're left gasping for air you never manage to catch as he thrusts again. His grip on your waist is bordering on strangling, yet you find yourself unconsciously following him, pulling yourself back to meet each one of your thrusts with a choked moan.

His sudden roughness and hunger and desire is startling yet undoubtedly welcome. So this is what it's like when he's unrestrained, hot and animalistic, rutting fast and hard, pushing you into a further arch while his sharp teeth nip at the back of your neck and shoulders.

It's starting to get too much, the coil in your stomach growing too close too soon, and your moans are starting to border on lewd whines and whimpers as you sink your teeth into the flesh of your arms.

You're clutching the ground for dear damn life, arms attempting to pillow your face as your whole body rocks forward with each rough, almost ruthless thrust.

"I'm going to-" You gasp, your thighs trembling as you sob against the floor. "Oh, god, oh fuck, oh shit, I'm going to-"

You can feel him twitch inside of you, and you moan at a particularly hard thrust. Each rock of his hips knocks every breath, every thought out of you until your heart is pounding in rhythm with each increasingly rough, deep, animalistic thrust of his cock rutting between your legs.

"Wa- wait," you gasp, as another thought occurs to you. "Aonung, the others."

"What about them," he grunts, not slowing down for a second, hand absent-mindedly moving to your shoulder-blades to push you into an even deeper arch.

Between choked whines, you manage to say, "They're right over there. They're going to hear!"

"Guess you're just going to have to be more quiet," he says carelessly, no doubt knowing that there wasn't a fucking chance of that happening.

You just bury your face deeper into your arms, hoping that they'll be enough to hide the moans knocked out of you with each of his deep thrusts.

He has you pinned firmly beneath him, yet it feels snug and comforting despite the pain of his grip. It feels like he's fucking everything into you, even his scent, so each thrust is enveloping you in his warm, tropical scent.

Then finally with a loud cry that you tried so��hard to stifle and kill, your entire body pulses as your orgasm blazes through you like fire as Aonung continues to fuck you through the quivers of your release.

You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his strained restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you.

You just give out, going slightly limp so he's holding you up as he comes, hair spilling over you as you just rest against the floor, breathing heavily in an attempt to steady yourself as you choke at the sensation of impossible fullness.

Then when he finally stops, he seems to return to himself, realising that you're just lax on the floor, only held up by his rough grip on your slightly bruised hips, flushed and slightly tear-streaked face hidden shamefully in your arms and curtained away by your long dark hair.

"Shit, are you okay?" Aonung asks, pulling out and lightly tilts your chin so he can see your face.

You just groan weakly and attempt to swat his hand away, a mortified little smile on your face as he sighs in relief and flops to the ground beside you.

"Feeling better?" you croak, wrinkling your nose at him.

Aonung exhales shakily with a small laugh. He turns to look at you, and there's a note of something in his eyes that you just don't understand- like he's trying to see if he would be able to get away with something.

Then he tentatively reaches out and tucks your hair away. When you don't protest or pull away, he lightly pulls you closer, so your head is resting between his shoulder and his neck, your arm draped tiredly across his chest and your body nestled cozily against his larger one.

You're tense. You've never done this, never cuddled, never allowed someone to be this fucking close. But then again, you've never fucked the same guy twice, and you've been in this arrangement with Aonung for weeks.

But this time was different, aggressive and desperate and hot and messy and overwhelming, and you're completely fucked out.

"Are you alright?" you ask Aonung quietly.

That's weird too, that you're asking Aonung about how he is. That you care how he is.

"What do you mean?" he asks gently, nuzzling closer into your neck. You try to ignore how comfortable it is having his lips resting warmly against your collarbone.

"Well," you say, with a bitter, shaky laugh, "it looked like you were a little... pent up."

Aonung groans and buries his face deeper into your hair.

"Aonung," you say gently, turning so you can see him.

You are inches apart, nearly nose to nose as you rake your eyes over his face. He looks torn between mortified and as though he's trying to hide from you. You wonder if it's this frustrating for him when you hide like this.

"I just forgot about the arrangement," Aonung mumbles, not meeting your eyes. "I just- I..." Surprising yourself, you tentatively reach up to brush your fingertips against the soft teal skin of his flushed face. His eyes instantly flick to yours, and his lips part just enough for you to lightly touch them too. "I just... I didn't like seeing you with Neteyam."

"Oh," you says softly. You have no idea what to say to that- especially when its something that you always kind of knew, but never expected to be told. Especially when it never processes in your mind that you could be loved. "Neteyam's just a friend," you laugh lightly.

There's a slight crackle behind you like twigs snapping, but when you look up, there's nothing and no one there. You frown, but Aonung lightly guides your face back to his before you can think more about it.

You sit like that in silence for a little bit, but it surprises you how it's not awkward at all. It's comfortable and warm and quiet, pillowed against his muscular body with his head tucked gently beside yours, hands absentmindedly playing with your hair.

Usually you would never allow this, but you're frankly fucked out, and you doubt you'd be able to push him away even if you wanted to. So you just close your eyes and rest for a moment, until he speaks.

"So when do I get an ikran?" Aonung asks, shifting slightly so you're facing each other now, yet you're still close enough for him to hold you.

"Soon," you shrug. "You can ask Neteyam to-"

"What if I don't want Neteyam to take me," Aonung asks.

"Lo'ak or Kiri might be free," you shrug. "If you manage to pull them away from Tsireya or Rotxo."

"What if I don't want the Sullys?" he asks, eyes glittering with amusement and slight incredulous annoyance as though you were being stupid.

"Then who-" you start to say, a confused look on your face before Aonung cuts you off, rolling his eyes with a fond little grin, his hand gently snaking to tilt your face as he kisses you.

You have half a mind to snap at him, to remind him that kissing was a little too personal, too intimate for the agreement when you weren't actually fucking, to shout at him for cutting you off, before you realise you don't actually mind the intimacy of the kiss when you're nestled in his arms, his hands gently caressing your cheeks and holding you close, his heart beating warmly and comfortably against you.

In fact, the thought of him pulling away seems worse than the actual closeness, tenderness and suggestiveness of the kiss, then suddenly he is, and you're frowning at the sudden, tiny, yet extremely unwelcome distance between his lips and yours.

"Can I kiss you," he asks, just a little late.

"Yes fine," you grumble impatiently, yet by his little, delighted smile, you know he took it for what it secretly meant, yeah you'd better kiss me skxawng.

"So you'll allow this?" he grins, inching closer. "It doesn't break the agreement?"

You have a strong temptation to smack that smug, delighted expression off his face, but you are just fucking exhausted, and his kisses are like coffee. But before he can lean back in and satiate you, there's stupidly familiar voices though the trees and you're panickingly staggering up to not get caught.

"Bro," Lo'ak says, looking you up and down before raising his weird hairy human eyebrows at Aonung. "Are you trying to mark her now?"

You flush deeply, only now noticing the little purple bruises his grip had roughly left, as well as the little nips and hickeys that now adorned your body. You feel even more aware of Aonung's marks when you look back up and meet Neteyam's gaze, his rich-golden eyes blazing bright as they trail over the bruises, hickeys and love bites before turning coldy on Aonung.

Aonung returns Neteyam's golden gaze with his own icy blue one, and an unspoken challenge seems to be passed between the two boys. You expected Neteyam to react like the others, amused like Lo'ak or scandalised like Tsireya, but he remains cold and expressionless, not looking at you or returning your nervous smile. Instead of laughing off or denying Lo'ak's question, Aonung just smirks slightly and looks away, and Neteyam swallows hotly.

The walk back to the village is a strange one. There's some weird confusing tension between Neteyam and Aonung that you probably couldn't decipher in the best of times, let alone when you're so completely fucked dumb that you're putting all your best efforts into walking normally enough so the others don't know that you're whole body is turned to jelly.

Tsireya is laughing with Lo'ak at the front of the group, but Kiri and Rotxo seemed to have noticed your clumsy tiredness because Kiri links her arm with yours and gently leads you along and Rotxo distracts you with quiet, sweet conversation.

But you're hardly listening, because you can feel two gazes blazing straight into you from behind. Although no words are spoken between them, the weirdness between Aonung and Neteyam seems to radiate straight into you.

Whatever, you'll figure it all out when you're back to normal, when you aren't so weak that you're susceptible to Aonung's tenderness and intimacy, when you aren't so fucked so dumb and stupid and reckless that you aren't wanting to kiss him again.

But there's no mistaking the intensity of the gazes on your back as you reenter the village. One blazing gold, the other icy blue.

In the next few days after that trip to the river, you're terrified. Terrified of what happened between you and Aonung.

Not of the sex, no that was doubtlessly the best you've ever had, but of what happened after. Of the cuddling and the kiss and the tenderness with which he cared for you and the fact that you let him be so tender and intimate.

So okay, maybe seeing your whole clan get murdered and destroyed by sky people at a young age could be traumatising, maybe even give you a few silly little intimacy issues, but your total aversion for intimate affection had always been uncomplicated.

No one could betray or hurt you if you never let anyone get close enough for you to care about them. No one could ever get hurt by you if they never cared for you in the first place. But Aonung has. Yes he's pussy-whipped, but he's liked you from the start and you knew that. No matter how hard you tried to discourage him or push him away, he's just as stubborn in liking you as you are in not liking him.

And now you don't know what you like. You think you know what it means that you trusted him to take care of you, that you let him get close in a way that wasn't just meaningless activity and was genuine care and intimacy. So you have to stay away from him.

Which is why for the past few days, you've only been in your kelku. You refuse to go out, knowing full well that no matter where you go, to the forest or around the village, Aonung will track you down and ask why you've been avoiding him, be all concerned and sweet and ARGH.

You groan and flop back down onto your woven bed. You're running out of things to do- stuck in your kelku. You've woven an obscene, unnecessary amount of jewellery, carved two new knives, beaded several new tops that you can only wear if you one day summon the courage to go outside and face the prospect to running into Aonung.

You're snarling with annoyance of being self-isolated in your kelku, hissing to yourself under your breath as you string together the beads of a new top when someone ducks into your kelku. Your body stiffens, but you quickly relax when you realise who it is.

"Hey Tey," you grin, as he smiles slightly back at you. "What are you doing here?"

"I haven't seen you in days," Neteyam says, frowning slightly at you. "I was getting worried- you seemed... off, that day by the river."

"I was tired," you say, brows furrowing at your friend. Usually Neteyam would be sitting with you talking about a guy, torn between slight protectiveness over you and slight amusement at your scornful attitude to intimacy. But now he's frowning, worried about you. "Aonung tired me out."

You expect him to grin, to joke, to maybe even make fun of you, but Neteyam isn't Lo'ak. Your close friendship with each of the Sullys is different, but you always considered yourself closest to the eldest, training with Neteyam, bonding over the struggles you both went to to prove yourselves.

Since you sought refuge with the Omotikaya at a young age, you and Neteyam had been the closest of friends. As you got older, he was busier with his various duties as not only a warrior, but the future Olo'eyktan of the clan. The two of you never really discussed it, but in the last few years, when you both started having 'experiences' with others, you grew apart slightly.

It's not like your relationship had ever been romantic, but there were certain elements of intimacy and jealousy you had always just assumed to be the closeness of your friendship. But now Aonung pointed it out, was even jealous of Neteyam himself, you have to wonder if there ever was more between you and the prince of the Omotikaya.

Then the Sully's had left for a bit to the reef, and when Neteyam came back, you had both grown. Even without any spoken elements of romance between the two of you, the obvious fact that both of you had had several if not many sexual and romantic experiences with others just seemed strange for a friendship forged in childhood.

You lower your beading and look up at him to find those golden eyes are fixed straight in your own, bright in the afternoon light filtering into your kelku from the gap in the weaving he left slightly ajar, his lips slightly parted as he tries to decide what to say. Fuck. No. Okay so maybe Aonung is getting in your head. Maybe Aonung is opening your eyes, because now Neteyam just looks... different.

Since the reef, Neteyam has gotten more muscular, more than the typical Omotikaya yet without the broad physique of Aonung. It's probably all the swimming or the diet of tropical fruits and fish or something, you suppose, but why did you never notice how he's just so... attractive, with his blazing golden eyes and smooth handsome features.

Sure, all you'd heard from other girls for years was how Neteyam was so handsome and hot and strong and a good lover, but that had all just been silliness because Neteyam was your friend nothing more, to either of you.

"Can I help you with something?" you ask, swallowing heavily, horribly aware that you had just spaced out and stared blankly at him for way too long.

"Are you okay?" he asks, frowning and moving closer to you, setting down a pile of stuff so he can get a better look at you. "You're acting weird."

"Am I?" you ask nervously, swallowing hard and blinking way too much.

"Yes," Neteyam says slowly, crouching beside you and frowning deeper. "You've been in your kelku for days, you haven't seen anyone, talked to anyone, and everyone was starting to get worried. I was getting worried about you Rey."

His nickname for you, shortened from Reypaytun and meaning blood red, was one of the first things you ever shared with him as your first friend among the Omotikaya. It was a fond name he chose given the blood red war paint favoured by the Tayrangi that you never got the chance to wear, and ever since he called you Rey, the little warrior, the last Tayrangi.

He seems to notice the way you pause at the nickname Rey as a flood of memories from your childhood washes over you, and he places a comforting hand on your leg, saying, "It's me. You can tell me if something's going on. Is it Aonung?"

The sound of Aonung's name snaps you back. The one you've been having all these strange feelings for, the one that mentioned Neteyam having feelings for you. You swallow hotly again, and Neteyam frowns. Again.

"Yes," you say quietly. Instantly, he coldens, scowling and hissing protectively.

"Did he hurt you? You looked a little bruised but I didn't say anything because I thought maybe you-"

"No there's nothing wrong like that," you say quickly. "Aonung didn't hurt me, not at all. He's been... well I've been... um..."

Neteyam sighs, his ears drooping slightly as understanding dawns on his face, his hand sliding off your leg and dropping towards the ground. The absense of his touch feels like a sign, like your friend is slipping away just as his hand had. That the two of you are growing even further apart than ever.

"I know Rey," he says gently. "I mean, it was pretty fucking obvious from the start that he liked you. I tried to tell him that it wouldn't end well, that you never let anyone get close, but you proved me wrong like usual."

"What do you mean?" you ask quietly, your tail sweeping behind you. You miss your friend.

"For years I thought we were the only ones you'd let love you," he says, now looking slightly wistful. "I never thought it would be Aonung of all people that managed to get your heart, not when literally every guy ever is head over heels for you."

"You aren't," you point out, though even to yourself, your voice sounds unsure. "Right?"

Neteyam doesn't reply, just smiling wistfully and sighing, his strong jaw clenching. You try to think of something to say, when the rest of his words clink into place in your brain, and you sit up quickly.

"What do you mean get my heart?" you ask sharply. "He hasn't- not-"

"Rey please," Neteyam says, not looking at you. "You literally let him cuddle you, take care of you, play with your hair. It goes beyond banter and pointless sex and you know it. You know it means more to him, and you know that it means more to you too."

You make to shake your head, but then you realise your body isn't moving, as though it refuses to say that Aonung means nothing. Fuck.

"Fuck."

Neteyam laughs humourlessly as you sit up, face twisted in distress as the stupid damn truth of your friend's words sink in and you frown at him. Neteyam isn't looking at you, hiding his face from you, and your harboured suspicion that he's secretly laughing at you is immediately stomped out when you notice.

His ears are drooped all the way down, and his hands are lightly fiddling with his necklace. It's a small habit he only fell into when he was agitated or upset- you often found him fiddling with the beading of the traditional warrior necklace when he found expectations too much, when he got in trouble with his father, when he felt he wasn't enough.

"What's wrong Tey," you ask, lightly reaching out to touch your friend's head in a friendly pat. But it feels different now that you're both all grown up and grown apart- he feels too big, not like when you were inseparable children.

Neteyam looks up, his face suddenly so large in your hand- no longer the adorably delighted childish face it once had been, now all chiselled and handsome and suddenly twisted with almost concealed, melancholy bitterness as he sighs and pulls away from you. It means something, that he pulled away.

"It's just weird," Neteyam says, with a poor attempt at a smile. "I always felt proud knowing that you let me close to you. That I could help you and protect you, that we would be so close forever. Then shit happened and I had to leave and we just grew apart slightly I guess. I just never thought that when we came back, Aonung would be the one to get you."

He swallows and looks away, obviously having said more than he meant to. You are about to reach out to your friend before remembering him pull away, his hand slipping away, his gaze somehow refusing to reach your own. But you're closer to understanding now more than ever, and being the ridiculously stubborn person you are, you can't just let it go now.

"What are you trying to say Tey?" you ask, frowning at him. "Aonung said... he said..."

"What?" Neteyam asks, now completely abandoning the pretence that he isn't annoyed and letting the confusing, uncalled for bitterness seep into his words. "What did your Aonung say about me?"

"That you..." you start to say, throat feeling dry under his suddenly blazing golden gaze. "He thought there was something going on between us."

With that, the last remaining light in Neteyam's face just snuffs itself out, and you feel your heart sink desperately. His tail stops flicking agitatedly behind him, thudding listless and dead on the floor behind him, his gaze dropping away somewhat as the fire in those blazing eyes dies, as though you put it out.

"I mean," you hastily say, trying to get him back to normal. It makes your heart ache in a terrible, painful sort of way to see Neteyam look so doleful and betrayed, makes your whole body shiver at the thought that you made the prince of the clan look so broken. "He thought you maybe liked me. But I told him- you only see me as a friend and I-"

"It's fine Rey," he says quietly, not meeting your gaze. "I get it."

"No!" you practically cry. "I don't even know what I'm trying to say- please stop! You don't need to get anything, Aonung was just being stupid and I don't even know what's going on."

"He wasn't stupid," Neteyam says quietly.

"What?"

"He wasn't stupid," Neteyam snaps, standing to leave. "He was right."

"About what?" you breathe, heart hammering uncomfortably in your chest. You know exactly what Neteyam is going to say next- but it just can't be true.

"That I liked you. Like you," he says angrily, taking a deep breath before rushing his next words. "But I know that you see me as a friend, and that you have your whole fucked up thing with Aonung going on."

You exhale shakily, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment and trying to think of what to say. When you open them again, Neteyam's blazing eyes are filled with fiery possessiveness again. It's everything you've always marked as friendship that is so clear in his gaze now, and you swallow heavily when he steps closer.

"But I know you Rey," he whispers, suddenly towering over you as he steps closer. "And I could be better than Aonung."

At that, you freeze. This is Neteyam, your friend Neteyam, the most desired man in the clan, the prince of the Omotikaya standing over you, blinking down at you with his large golden eyes and telling you he's better than the other boy you fuck, who's also his friend. What. The. Fuck.

"What are you saying?" you whisper, hating how squeaky your voice sounds.

"Let me prove myself," Neteyam shrugs, now just a foot away.

You mouth wordlessly. On one hand, all you've heard for years is Neteyam's incredible talent with women, his amazing looks and bravery and size working wonders for every girl in the clan, but then again, Aonung was also completely and utterly satisfying and hot and muscular in himself. You aren't tied down though. Just because you had been having a good time with Aonung didn't mean you couldn't with anyone else.

But your friendship might not last with Neteyam if you took this step. Yet then again, it's already changed, even more so now he's told you he likes you, absolutely now he's offering what he's offering.

It seems a little as though he's stepping on Aonung's toes- along the same lines of impressing you, proving himself yadayadayada, but as you meet Neteyam's gaze, you can't seem to find a problem with anything.

He's staring down at you, inches away from your lips yet still a foot taller, blazing golden eyes staring straight into your own.

fuck.

#aonung x reader #aonung x female reader #aonung fic #avatar smut #aonung fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar #avatar fandom #avatar the way of water #aonung #neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader x aonung #threesome?

284 notes · View notes

factual-fantasy · 1 month

Note

Greetings Factual! Sorry it's been a bit since I last got to say hi, it's been a crazy week for me- but I still managed to check in every once in a while, and as is always the case, really enjoyed your recent posts- both the fun and the angsty! In particular, I really liked the Fnaf anniversary image you did, it was really cool seeing the classic crew in your style- and thanks for remembering Golden Freddy!

That actually brought up an Ask I had, too, which is: is Golden Freddy cannon to your main Fnaf AU? You made the Fredbear and Spring Bonnie side au, but did a version ever exist before the core crew in the original timeline? If so, he probably wouldn't be haunted, like the others arent, but, as an older model would he even be sentient? Maybe it's too spoilery, but I figured it couldn't hurt to ask!

As a sidenote, I also come bearing a gift today! Last time, you'll recall, I asked if you wanted to see some of the old Mario OC's I came up with, and you said yes! So here's what I got now that I've redrawn and refurbished them- forgive my poor art and camerawork- i had to work with what limited time and supplies I had- anyway, without further adu, here's the dynamic desert dwelling duo, Rick and Rusty!

My idea for their story is that, as you can see, Rusty is an old, outdated model of Sherm, like the ones from Odyssey, and his partner is an almost equally as old, rough and tough Monty Mole named Rick who's lost most of his vision with age. I'm still figuring out the way they met- but at some point they both got stranded in the deserts of the Sand Kingdom , and ended up deciding to team up, becoming a wandering duo of tradesmen, transporting goods from one settlement to another- after all, Ricks gotta eat, and Rusty's always in need of spare parts due to his advanced age.

Sometimes times are tough for the two of them, but they soldier on though even the toughest sandstorms- and have formed a very important symbiotic bond, as Rusty gives Rick some much appreciated protection(he is a tank after all) as well as verbal direction when necessary, and in turn, Rick uses his impressive skills as a mechanic to repair and replace Rusty's parts, both on the outside and inside! I also imagine that Rusty would double as a living, mobile home for Rick, with some of those good ol' bigger in the inside shenanigans going on! I also had an idea for two additional characters who would eventually join the traveling band- those being Dott the Flopter and Brock the Bandit!

Still working on their stories too, but I envisioned Dott as a happy go lucky explorer who came up from the Sprixie kingdom to explore the surface world- only to surface in the sand kingdom and get caught in a sandstorm! Thankfully Rick and Rusty were passing by and provided shelter, after which she volunteered to join them on their adventures for the foreseeable future- Rick finds her outgoing personality a bit obnoxious at times- but Rusty's taken a real liking to her- plus, it never hurts to have eyes in the sky!

As for Brock, I imagined his arc would be similar to Diego's from Ice Age, funnily enough- he started as a double agent who sought to lure the crew into a trap so his gang mates could rob them, but he ended up liking them so much he switched sides, beat his old team at their own game, and joined the traveling Merchants officially as their muscle! His mask lets him weather even the most severe sandstorms, and he can use his hockey stick to wack projectiles at foes even faster than Rusty can fire a- uh- whatever those things Sherms shoot are called!

Anyway that's all I got for now, sorry as always for the wall of text- I was just eager to see what you think! With you being a professional AU and OC crafter, (especially compared to me) I would greatly appreciate any thoughts or criticisms you can offer! Thank you so much as always- and I hope this day is treating you well!

Hi! Its good to see you in my ask box again! :D I'm sorry to hear about your week though, I hope this next one treats you better <:(

As for the FNAF 10th anniversary post, I'm really glad you liked it! :D And how could I forget Golden Freddy?? He's been one of my top favorite animatronics for a very long time XD Speaking of him, he does exist in my main FNAF AU technically :0 although "Golden Freddy" in my AU is actually just the old Fredbear suit after it was decommissioned- though obviously I cant talk much about if it was haunted or sentient at all <XD spoiler stuff-

And lastly, your OCS! AND MY GOODNESS DO I LOVE THEM!!! :DD And as a ✨professional AU/OC crafter✨(XDD thank you!! :}} ) I tried to give you some criticism like you asked. But I'm having a hard time coming up with anything solid! <:0 I love their stories and I think their designs are great!

Originally some criticism I thought of was that Rusty looked a liiittle overly detailed.. there was an awful lot of bolts on the guy. But upon googling Sherms, they look like that in the game! Absolutely flooded with bolts! :0 So your design is actually accurate and very well done! Same thing with his color, thought maybe he could use a little more color but nope! In game the Sherms are just a block of green XD You actually gave him MORE color with the two different shades of brown! A very good choice in my opinion! :))

The only lasting criticism I could think of was more of a question; how can Rick repair Rusty if he's lost most of his eye sight..? Sure Rusty might be able to verbally guide him from the outside somewhat.. but what about internal repair? Thinking about it though, he could just be near sighted- or maybe his eye sight isn't as bad as I'm imaging it is? Either way- loved the critters! Loved the stories, the art is fantastic and I hope the rest of our day/night is a good one! :))

#my response #fnaf security breach #long post

73 notes · View notes

rafyki · 2 months

Text

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 9!

I'm back!! I hope you missed me as much as I missed posting lmao This chapter wasn't planned honestly, I wanted to write directly their beach 'date', but then this happened and I decided it's gonna be one more chapter before the date - sorry xD I bet y'all are tired of this slow burn, but i promise they're gonna get together soon!

(I hope the texting format is easy to read here on tumblr, but otherwise you can read it on AO3)

Enjoy~

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~

Percy: Ehi, Nico! You have the afternoon shift tomorrow, right? Let’s hang out at the beach again after it?

Me: Percy, hi!

Me: So you really do know all my shift hours, huh?

Percy: What can i say, Im a great obsever

Me: Huh, are you?

Percy: For important things at least

Percy: so is that a yes?

Me: of course

Me: No need to tell you what time I finish, I guess

Percy: nope

Percy: 20ish right?

Me: yeah

Me: see you tomorrow?

Percy: yep

Percy: see you tmorrow!

Nico had been rereading the conversation for the best part of the previous night, and the first thing he had done after waking up had been checking his phone once again to make sure he hadn’t just made it up in his dreams. He knew the short exchange by heart now, yet he kept staring at it, reading it over and over again. Part of himself was afraid it would disappear if he so much as locked his phone and looked away for a second too long.

Their chance meeting at the beach three days prior still felt like a waking dream, like he had hoped so much for something like that to happen that he had started hallucinating. He wondered if hallucinations always felt so real, if they would let you to feel the water splashing against your legs, the warmth of the setting sun on your skin, or the pressure of a hand holding yours, the touch soft and warm, everything and more Nico had let himself dreaming about for the past months. The way Percy had smiled at him had been so beautiful that Nico’s mind probably wouldn’t have been able to conjure something like it if it hadn’t been real.

Still, it didn’t feel real.

Leo and Jason would have probably blamed the feeling on Nico’s self sabotaging tendencies. You’re allowed to have nice things, Nico, they would tell him.

Was he? Could he let himself hope that he could really have this? His heart was going berserk in his chest at the sole thought.

Percy had stopped to talk to him at the beach, Percy had taken his hand and held it while walking in the water, Percy had memorized his schedule and asked for his phone number; Percy had texted him first and asked him to hang out again.

For important things at least.

Percy had said that. Important. Nico wanted to scream.

His phone's sudden ringing almost made him jump out of his skin. It was Jason’s number, but it was Leoìs voice that greeted him from the other end of the line.

“Hi there, goth boy, so how ya feeling for your date today?”

“Not a date, Leo, shut up- and why are you calling me with Jason’s phone?”

Of course, Nico’s traitor heart stumbled on the word date. It wasn’t, and he couldn’t simply assume otherwise, it would make things awkward, wouldn’t it? And so far nothing had ever been too awkward with Percy - Nico surely wouldn’t be the one to make everything between them crumbling down for expecting too much.

“Not important-”

“He lost his phone”, came Jason’s voice. “Again. By the way, hi Nico”.

Nico rolled his eyes at their antics. “Hi Jason”.

“Anyway!”, Leo jumped in. “How are you feeling for your ‘not date’ then?”

“I hate you, Valdez”, Nico groaned, letting himself fall backward on his bed. His heart didn’t seem willing to stop running like crazy anytime soon, his hands were sweating from anticipation and tension.

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

He put his phone on speaker just so he could set it aside, take a pillow, and scream into it.

Apparently, his suffering was extremely funny to Leo, because his obnoxious laugh came as a reply. “I’ll take it as a yes”, he said.

“Nico, I’m sure everything’s gonna be great”, Jason said. “You’ll have fun, get to know him better, and then-”

“Then you’ll finally date, hopefully”, Leo finished.

Once again, Nico’s heart skipped a beat and did a little dance in his chest. He threw the pillow aside. “What if I make a fool of myself though?”

“Well, your boy has made a fool of himself plenty of times already, hasn’t he? I mean, he knows your schedule by heart”, Leo replied. “So I’m sure you’ll be fine”.

Jason laughed at that, and after a moment Nico joined him.

~~~

Nico expected his shift at the kiosk to last an eternity, stretching on and on to keep him apart from finally seeing Percy in the evening. And, truth be told, the first couple of hours were just like that, long and boring and way too slow.

It changed when his phone notified him of a new text.

Percy: i got work today so im coming to teh beach latr

Percy: ill meet you at the kiosk!

Nico’s heart was starting to become extremely good at doing somersaults in his chest. There were no customers at that moment, so he had time to reply, his fingers shaking just slightly as he wrote back.

Me: alright, I’ll meet you here then

Me: What time do you finish at work?

Percy: What, you wana learn my scdheule too?

Me: It's only fair, isn’t it?

And so, they ended up texting back and forth for a while and, after that, the time seemed to move faster, the day shining brighter, and Nico’s customers’ smile felt just that tiny bit more honest.

Nico’s internal list of the things he knew about Percy kept growing longer by the minute; he liked to text and wasn’t afraid to double text, his spelling mistakes were so atrocious they left Nico smiling and feeling so endeared it was almost ridiculous.

Nico’s nerves eased with every new text, his heart now beating out of excitement and anticipation more than fear and anxiety. The evening couldn’t come fast enough.

Me: Why are you spending so much time texting me instead of working

Percy: Why, arent you enjoying it :(

Me: not what I said!

Me: i wouldn’t be replying if i weren’t enjoying it

Percy: :D

Percy: im on break anyay

Percy: what abot you, youre also on your phone instead of workin

Me: there aren’t many customers today

Me: no one to buy the same old blue drink

Nico put the phone aside for a moment, hiding his smile behind his hand and hoping that no one would think he was a creepy psycho smiling for no reason. He had every reason to smile. Flirting was easier through text, even if he kept spending minutes on end before forcing himself to press send. The downside of it was that it was way more difficult to avoid it when Percy flirted back.

Percy: aww you miss me?

He wrote and then deleted a reply a few times. He was lucky Jason and Leo weren’t there today to see him being like this or they would have made fun of him for the rest of their lives.

It was strange. Nico was feeling embarrassed, but in an easy lighthearted way, and that made him feel just that little bit braver. Maybe it was because Percy was willingly spending his break texting him instead of whatever else he usually did; maybe it was the fact that he had the feeling Percy was feeling just like him.

He wrote a reply, looked at it for a few seconds and pressed send before he could overthink it too much.

Me: Maybe

Just then, before having the time to send a second text for damage control, a customer came and Nico had to put his phone down to serve them. His heart kept hammering in his chest the whole time, and his eyes kept stealing glances at the phone, hoping to see it ring. It was taking a little longer than usual for Percy to reply, and Nico didn’t know if it was because he had scared him away or flustered him too much.

When it did notify him of a new series of texts, he was still busy with new customers, and it took him all of his willpower not to make them wait while he checked his phone.

Finally, he thanked and said goodbye to the last customer of the queue, he moved so fast he almost stumbled on his own feet; and when he read what Percy had written, his heart was ready to jump out of his chest and start dancing on the counter.

Percy: me too

Percy: maybe

Percy: goot thign were seeing each other in a couple huors

Percy: cant wait

He read the words, reread it again and then again, once again feeling like they were nothing but a pipe dream. He blinked, and they were still there when he opened his eyes again.

Maybe he really could let himself hope this time.

Me: me too

Time definitely couldn’t pass fast enough.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #nico di angelo #percico #nicercy #pernico #heroes of olympus #percy x nico #goth/surfer percico #my fics

57 notes · View notes

brisquad-unit-4402 · 7 months

Note

hihi may i request number 37 for kyo for the 100 followers thing!! congrats btw :3

Maybe kyo said something sweet to the reader but feels embarrassed afterwards,?

damn. i rlly didn’t write this until the very last day of his life huh. my condolences on our oshi. but still! send him off strong and happy and be sure to celebrate both the times you've had and the ones he's about to invite after he graduates!

tags: pre-relationship, fluff, gender neutral reader, teasing

#100 followers for 4402 - 37. embarrassed

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Something in Kyo’s gene pool made his height spring up nearly overnight. You’d even be happy for him—

“How’s the weather down there?”

—If he didn’t rub it in your face any chance he got.

It’s karma. You were taller than him just a few weeks ago and watching him react to you poking fun at his height is what kept you going. Now he towers over you (nothing to be ashamed of) and leans down while he speaks (everything to be ashamed of).

You scoff and roll with the punches. “Nice and shady while your beanstalk ass stares directly into the sun.”

“Nah, I’m having the time of my life up here,” Kyo says. You walk side by side with him, and now that today's classes at the Institute are over, it's at your own pace, without any of the rush of the school day. “Is this what it’s like to be the tall one?”

“Something like that. If I knew you would be this obnoxious about growth spurts, I would’ve told the moon to pick someone else.” You poke him. “Should’ve made me even taller than you.”

“You wish, being shorter suits you. It's cute.”

“You saying I’m cute?”

Kyo is quick to retort whenever any of your friends insinuate anything around him, but as his mouth opens, no sound comes out. His lips are slightly parted.

"You are!" You bump up against his arm to bring his guard down. "Aww, I had no idea you thought of me like that. You're not an asshole like you insist, are you?"

"Fuck off. I'm talking about your height, not you."

"Same thing! Besides, didn't you hate being called cute when you were smaller than me?"

"Woah, this isn't about me."

"Exactly." You smirk. "You want me to call you cute too?"

He doesn't say anything to that either, so between your footfalls, you look right up at him and his stupid height, ready to banter right back at whatever he says next.

What isn't expected is how he stares straight ahead, too focused on something that doesn't exist to watch you. The dyed streaks in his hair, usually tucked behind his ear, hang in front of his face instead, as if the pink would suggest the color over his face as a trick of a light.

When was the last time Kyo was speechless like this? You can't recall any of your other friends winning over no matter how they tried pushing his buttons. Perhaps he's the type that can dish it out but can't take it—after all, you're the only one in the Institute that can go toe-to-toe with him and his biting wit.

Curious to test the hypothesis, you bump up to him again. "You aren't denying it."

He tilts his head away, but now there's no mistaking the blush as anything else, just as bright as his hair along his cheek and over the corners of his ears, and a grumble under his breath you can't understand.

"Sorry, can't hear you, speak up please?" You tease, feigning innocence.

Kyo's brows scrunch together as he snaps his head to you, but despite the height and the many conversations you've had with him, he looks smaller than ever. "I said fine. You're cute. Happy now?"

Now it's your turn to forget how to speak, but luckily, you recover faster than he ever did. "Yes, actually."

"Great."

The pathway goes from pavement to dirt, and the crunching gravel under your shoes takes up the space your words can't fill. A tiny feeling of victory spreads through you.

"Are you embarrassed?" You ask.

"No," he says.

Neither of you buy it.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ event post ✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#kyo kaneko #kyo kaneko x reader #iluna x reader #iluna #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #kyo kaneko fluff #4402 writes #100 followers for 4402 #damn. i should've written him more when i had the chance

101 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 2 years

Text

How to Mend What’s Broken

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Prompt

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you."

Warnings: Angst; Breakup, Jealous Nat.

This is the first of many ghost posts, I’m queuing up my requested blurbs/fics as I finish them, but I won’t really be here.

She'd thought you were bluffing, that this year long mission would be like any of the others, and that when she came home with flowers and chocolates that you'd just happily embrace her. That wasn't the case though, she came back to find you'd not only moved out of your shared apartment, but that you apparently moved on. Hearing it through her family, the one you now shared after half a decade together was hard, but actually seeing it was truly devastating.

—————-

"Nat, if you go on the mission, then I'm gone.," the words replay in her fractured mind, on a continuous loop as she's forced to watch you dancing with another at Tony's New Year's party—it wasn't right, she felt nauseous seeing the way her hands sat on your hips, pulling you in for a kiss, and the worst part being the way you beamed back at her, pushing her fallen hair behind her ear, the same way you did hers.

Natasha could feel the bile rising up her throat, she couldn't stomach the sight of you two so happy together. Shifting on her feet she faced the bar again, chasing the obnoxious burning in her throat down with a different kind. She could hear you giggle from across the room, and in turn the next shot was thrown back. Every time she saw her hands on you flash in her mind another shot was taken, her high tolerance aside, the woman smelled like a distillery, and truly needed to be stopped.

"Sestra, slow down.," Yelena hissed, yanking the shot glass from her sister's hand, sending her a warning glare as she tried to grab it back., "Natasha, you made your choice, live with it.," The redheads shoulders deflated instantly at her words, because they were the ugly truth.

Months—you gave her so many of them to get it together, to finally put you first for once, but she continuously failed to do so, leaving you behind for those fleeting rushes of adrenaline, but that high she so desperately craved wasn't the same when she didn't have your arms to crash into after she finally returned home.

No, instead of welcome home cuddles, and whispers of 'I love you' between steamy kisses she's met with cold sheets, and nightmares. The kind that shows her how bleak her future is going to be without the love you two had fostered, she shakes her head as the aforementioned images began to flood her inebriated mind again., "It wasn't worth it."

Yelena clapped her sister on the shoulder, a smile riddled with pity sent her way., "Da, tupitsa, nakonets ty ponyal, teper' ispravlyay.," the redhead glared at her unbothered sister., "Good luck Natasha, you better succeed. I want my future sister in law back like yesterday."

(Yes dumbass, finally you understand, now fix it.)

Natasha didn't know how, or when, but she knew she'd get you back, because in the grand scheme of it all, you're definitely her soulmate. Part of her wondered if tonight might be the time, since she could feel your intense stare from a mile away, her heart even fluttered a bit at the premature hope it was filling up with.

It wasn't fair to your girlfriend, Clara, but you couldn't remove your gaze from your first love. The clueless girl was clinging to you, her head laying over your chest, and you hoped she didn't hear the skip in your heartbeat every time you got to see the other woman's face.

Natasha looked stunning in the black dress that clung to her every curve, the swell of her breasts visible to the naked eye due to the surprisingly low cut of the fabric. Part of you wondered if she did it on purpose, she had to have known you'd RSVP'd to the party, and as exciting as it is to know it might've been for you, you know she's no longer yours to gawk at.

Still, your eyes managed to linger on her all throughout the night, wandering her body in its entirety. Eventually catching the necklace that you got her for your second anniversary. Your fingers ghosted over the imprint of yours through your dress, causing your heart to ache, and for you to run off the dance floor as if you were Cinderella herself and the dreaded clock was about to strike midnight—which it was.

Natasha watched you run off the floor and onto the balcony, your hand clutching at your chest, and the other covering your mouth. To most you looked like you were going to be sick, but she knew you were trying to hold back the tears to keep your tough front up. She wasted no time running after you either, the door had barely shut before she was bursting through it, and catching the way your body shook with sobs, an ache consumed her as she watched all the pain she'd caused you come flooding right on out of you. It was painfully humbling...

"Natasha...," you went to tell her to leave, even if that's the opposite of what you wanted, you knew you needed her to go, because just one smile would be enough for you to crumble, and you didn't want that again. To be putty in her deceitful little hands, the ones that loved you so well on the sparingly good days, and left you craving so much more on the bulk of the rest., "I need you to...," the redhead however had other plans, ignoring you, and desperately blurting out a truth of her very own.

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you.," her voice was not but a whisper as she moved to cage your trembling body in between hers, and the balconies metal rail., "I love you so much Y/N—my precious little dove."

"Natasha, please.," your hands gripped the rail even tighter as you pleaded for her to stop, to walk away like she always does; to let you go., "Tell me to stop, to go," she pressed her lips to the nape of your neck., "I- I can't.," a tear left your eye as you shamefully crumbled at the simplest of affections. How could you not? Natasha's touch had the power to set your body alight with need, no one else could compare, and deep down you were content with that.

Without giving you room to slip away she was able to turn you to face her, a soft smile on her face., "But God, Nat, I desperately want to.," you shakily admitted, causing her face to fall., "because I deserve so much better.," though your voice cracked, the conviction in your eyes was strong, and a ghost of a smirk befell her face as she filled with pride at seeing you fight for yourself so very well., "I'll do better!"

She could see you already registered her words as empty., "Fuck, detka please, I'll do anything you want or need if it means you'll just be mine again.," your brows furrowed at the sight of her being so vulnerable, it wasn't foreign for her to be like this with you, but this public display of it by her surely was. It honestly made you more willing to listen, and maybe take her seriously.

"I-I can't sleep another night without you Y/N, that damn apartment could never be a home without your laughter filling it, and my heart.," she paused, frantically grabbing at your hand so that you could feel the organ's steady thumping beneath your fingertips., "It will never be whole again without yours beating beside it, do you feel that? How hard it's beating against my ribcage? That's all you. Without you it's forever been out of sync."

Silence followed up the Russian's monologue. It consumed the air around the both of you, but it wasn't suffocating, the party was thankfully silenced by the compound's thick panes of glass, and the streets below were just quiet. The world continued to fade away as you stared into her gorgeous, viridescent eyes, and felt her heart beating in sync with your very own. If not for Natasha leaning in you're certain you could've been lost in her gaze for an eternity.

Natasha bit back a sob as the hand on her chest lightly pushed her back, fear of your incoming rejection rising steadily, but then she watched you smile as your hand slid over to the charm. A golden chain with her trademark spider dangling from it, your initials engraved in the bottom of the piece, and the color of your eyes matched the color of the jewel adorning it., "You kept it?," she frowned immediately., "I'd never dream of taking it off, it's a part of me as much as you are Y/N; a testament to our love."

To prove her point she gently tugged on your own chain, pulling the nearly identical charm from where it was hidden beneath your clothes. She smirked at your nervous fiddling while also admiring the piece that mirrored hers, the gem was an emerald, and her thumb ran over the markings that were her own on the bottom., “You kept it?,” she teasingly threw your words back at you causing you to pout., “Well yeah, it was really expensive.,” you groaned playfully, but she saw the way you clutched onto it as she dropped it, safely returning it to beneath your clothing., “Plus, it was all I had left of you.”

“Y/N, you have all of me.,” her thumb lovingly stroked over the apple of your cheek, you melted into the affection with so much ease that the former assassin nearly broke down. You’ve always put your unwavering faith in her, and that’s one of the many reasons she fell for you—hard and fast. The Avengers title, and culmination of her past meant nothing to you. To you she was Natty, with the strong arms, hot smirk, with horrible cooking abilities, and to her you were the definition of everything. Your soft voice pulled her out of her reverie., “Are your sure Nat? Because I can’t go back to being your second choice, I won’t do it.”

“You never were Y/N/N.,” she quietly admits, and before she could try to kiss you again you moved to whisper in her ear., “I’m no cheat Natalia, give me a few minutes, maybe let the Winter chill calm the ants in your pants, hm?,” she rolled her eyes, then smirked as you stared back at her skeptically., “Ants aren’t all I have in these pants by the way.,” she winked, then cackled as you subtly flipped her off before venturing off to find your unfortunate date.

Natasha watched over the city of New York, every second you were gone a spike of panic shot through her. What if the woman isn’t all that understanding? What if she hurts you? Before her mind could make her travel to rescue you the door slid open, she turned on instinct, but also she was feeling a bit hopeful., “Catch me!,” you squealed, running full force at the slightly sobered redhead, she mirrors your excitement as she spins you around though, then she tries to kiss you again in the thrill of the moment, but your finger slips in between your lips and she groans., “What is it now?”

“The countdown.,” you huffed, and she listened closely to hear all the shouting from indoors., “10,9,8…,” she tapped your dangling legs, and you got the message to wrap them around her., “3,2,1… Happy New Year!!!,” your cheers were abruptly brought to a close as Natasha’s lips met yours in a needy way, but you certainly weren’t going to complain, especially not when your ability to have done so was sullied by the tongue that was pretty much down your throat.

The kiss was messy, it’d been 387 days since she’d last been able to kiss you like this, and if you were aware at all you’d better be preparing for a long night, her roaming hands a sign that she isn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. Not that you’d want her to, your body was a squirming mess beneath hers as she’d laid you on a lounging chair, then quickly mounted you. Her lungs burned, but it wasn’t until you had tapped at her shoulder that she retracted with a displeased growl, reluctantly allowing you to breathe while she admired the dishevelment.

“To new beginnings.,” she whispered against your lips with a smirk as you panted wildly. Your eyes squinted as her bright phone screen was brought up to your face, the words slowly coming together as your cognition returned with each gasp of oxygen you inhaled., “Nat?,” your lip wobbled as you read it, and she leaned down to kiss you again, but far more tenderly like your quivering voice told her you needed., “Effective immediately detka; I’m all yours.,”

“No more missions?,” you sought out clarity with a bright smile and nervous stomach, and your beautiful woman beamed down to you, nodding her head while cupping your cheeks. The soft look she gave you warmed your heart, but you were a bit more focused on the way your entire body warmed at her great news., “Please, take me home Natasha.,” her eyes widened when your breathy plea came out, surveying your eyes she could see the lust at the forefront, so she scooped you up, and ran., “Whatever my detka wants, she fucking gets.”

——————————

2,264 Words.

❤️🤖

(Image source)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff pov #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasharomanoffpov #gxg #black widow #black widow angst #black widow fluff

621 notes · View notes

sutaro-min · 1 year

Text

[10:15 pm]

game over. game over. game over.

Matsukawa Issei stares, dead eyed, at the screen in front of him as a deep and guttural wave of despair sinks into his gut.

"idiot!" issei winces and pulls his headphones slightly away from his head as makki's voice blares out at full volume. "we could have won that round if you just listened to me!"

issei leans back and crosses his arms over his face. "that loss was all you man. I was the one actually being good at the game."

"no way you're delusional like that..." Issei stretches with a yawn, tuning out makki's usual post-game rant, when a pair of arms slide over his shoulders and gently wraps around his neck. he looks up to meet your eyes that peek out from behind his obnoxiously pink gaming chair.

"hey," you say and lean forward to rest your chin on his shoulder. "lost the game?"

"yeeaah, but maybe if I get a kiss I'll win the next round?" smirking, issei reaches up to draw his fingers through your hair. he settles his hand down on the back of your neck, and you roll your eyes as he gently pulls you closer to him. your lips are mere centimeters apart, and a gleeful issei closes his eyes to get his well deserved incentive.

"issei, is that a girl?!!?"

issei jerks his hand in surprise and accidentally knocks your heads together. "ow." you mutter. your hand goes up to feel the now tender red spot growing in the center of your forehead. in a huff you untangle issei's hand from your hair before moving toward his bed where all your study books have been strewn about.

an indignant issei, also rubbing his head, pulls his headphones back on.

"yes, makki, that was a girl." he rolls his eyes.

"no way. Matsukawa Issei actually has a REAL girl in his room?" Makki laughs. "the boys are gonna go crazy."

issei rolles his eyes. again.

"so who is it?" issei could just imagine makki leaning forward in his chair, eagerly waiting for the chance to embarrass issei in their "seijoh boys" group chat. issei refuses give makki that satisfaction.

he grins. "your sister."

makki goes dead silent.

"hello? you there makki?"

through his headphones, issei hears makki breathing in and letting a steady breath out. "yeah right issei. be serious--who is it?"

"mm, i'm pretty serious about this." issei glances over toward where you are by his bed, putting your textbooks back into your backpack. he furrows his brows and frowns when you stand up to swing your backpack over your shoulder.

"just because you go to the same university as my baby sister does NOT give you the authority to be making jokes like this--"

"hold on man, I gotta deafen for a sec."

"wait what? come on, just give me some serious answe--."

issei clicks the deafen button on his chatting client, effectively shutting up his best friend, and swivels his chair around to fully face you.

"what did makki say?" you ask. issei stands up and walks toward you.

"he didn't believe me when I told him his sister was here." he shrugs.

you hit him gently on his shoulder. "don't tease my brother like that. he was always more weakhearted between the two of us."

Issei spreads his hands out in front of him. "hey, I was only telling him the truth." you shake your head, laughing.

issei tilts his head to one side, then pulls you into his chest. "you leaving?"

you sigh and push your face closer into his shirt. "yeah I should head out before it gets even later. I have an early class tomorrow so..."

issei sighs, resting his chin on your head, when he suddenly pushes back and looks down at you--mischief twinkling in his eyes. He quickly slides his hands into yours, and pulls you back toward his desk. Issei sits down in his chair and nestles your legs in-between his own. due his sheer abundance of height, even sitting the two of you are still almost eye level. "how about this:"

you raise a brow.

"if I win this next game," he continues, "we have a sleepover."

you let out a full laugh this time. "oh man, you are funny huh?"

"hey," issei wines "I'm serious!"

you smile, and your eyes catch on a stray hair that rests against issei's forehead. you reach to brush it back, but issei grabs your hand before you can and intertwines his fingers with yours. "hm? whaddya say?"

you look at him. his eyes give the barest hints of "puppy dog" while still maintaining that cool "I don't care what you decide" smirk. but what melts your reserve is the slight tinge of pink that not-so-subtly creeps up his ears.

"fine," you give an exaggerated sigh, "i'll stay, but only if you win the next round."

issei grins and swivels around toward his setup. He un-deafens in the chatting client and pulls his headphones on again. "hey man you there? I'm back."

"Finally! where have you been?" makki exclaims in neglect. "I've been waiting for the past, like, 15 minutes now."

"sorry man, had to talk to my girl for a sec." issei quickly clicks around the screen to get his character ready, "down for one more round?"

"you know I am, but hold up for sec because 'your girl'?? c'mon man don't bs and just tell me who you have over. i am your best friend you can trust me!”

issei wordlessly turns his mic up to you in response, his eyes never leaving his screen. you lean forward closer to the mic. "issei wasn't lying," you say.

makki falls silent again.

"ready to start the game?" issei's mouse hovers over the Start Game button.

"_____???? WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?" Makki shouts. "I'M BOOKING A TICKET TO TOKYO RIGHT NOW AND YOU BETTER BE--"

"okaay, starting!" issei gleams as he once again effectively shuts up his best friend, or (also more accurately) shuts up your brother, and clicks Start Game.

[ an: oop that was longer than i thought it would be so i did not read this through again. just brain rot]

384 notes · View notes

booksandabeer · 1 year

Text

Stucky Recs: Road Trips!

Well, well, well. Look at that! After only three months of constant whining about having no time to do it, I've finally managed to put together a new rec list! Yay.

The theme of this list was requested by multiple people and really, who doesn't love a good road trip story, right? And let me tell you, there are so many good ones, this post could've been twice as long. I'm actually already hoarding fics in my little folder to do a part two later this year.

But for now, please enjoy my effusive ramblings about the following 10 Road Trip fics + 1 Rail Trip fic:

🚗 you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all by biblionerd07 | T, 15K

Author's summary: Steve and Bucky aren't really much of a Steve and Bucky anymore these days. Steve's sure it's because Bucky doesn't see himself as the same guy who used to love Steve. In a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, Steve begs Bucky to go on a road trip together, the way they used to dream about, and does his best to remind Bucky of who he is.

A post-CW canon divergent fic that's in a lot of ways very soft, but with just enough of an edge to keep things interesting and the reader uncertain as to how everything will play out in it. This starts with a somewhat disaffected Bucky who has not (yet) regained all of his memories and a Steve who, in his desperation to reconnect with him, tries so hard but ends up saying and doing all the wrong things. As they travel around the country, they both find ways to let go and to unlearn and relearn each other. Features moments of heart melting yet tongue-in-cheek sappiness (so the absolute best kind of sappiness) and a fun background Sam/T'Challa pairing.

🚗 a black sky prickled with small lights by emilywithoutY | M, 26K

Author's summary: There's this: The July heat. A wide open road. An obnoxious country song on the radio. Bucky in the driver’s seat.

Or: Two hundred-year-old men and their Great American Road Trip

The ultimate, unashamed Steve-and-Bucky-visit-the-Grand-Canyon wish-fulfillment fantasy—and I mean that in the best possible way. The summer road trip vibes are impeccable. This is technically the third part in the Litanies series, but it absolutely works as a standalone. However, if you ask me whether you should read the entire series, the answer is obviously a resounding yes. It's not only one of the best EG-Fix-Its I've read but also comes with an additional fun and sexy twist on how to get these two to finally get their heads out of their asses. Anyway, in this installment, they have already done that and now they get to enjoy the road, their freedom, and most of all, each other. Includes: healing along the way, long overdue conversations, and the attempt to reconcile the joy of finally having all that time with the bittersweet reality of having all that time.

🚗 Blue Moon by what_alchemy | E, 15K

Author's summary: "Now are you gonna run away with me or not, Rogers?”

God, this story (this author, really)! I’ve read this fic so many times I’ve lost count. It features one of my favorite post-WS characterizations of Bucky. One where he's still—somehow after everything—a romantic at heart, but also clear-eyed and unsentimental enough about certain things to not shy away from laying out some uncomfortable truths for Steve and the reader alike (there’s one line in particular that is seared into my brain and every time I read it I personally feel so called out). Steve may be a bit more cautious and softer about it, but oh, he gives back just as good. Nobody is handling anyone with kid gloves here. A story about learning how to be together (again), defining one's very own version of 'Happy Ever After', and about being very much in love, and also very horny for each other.

🚗 Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) by dorian_burberrycanary | E, 20K

Author's summary: Steve has never felt right running away from a fight, even if the fight is with unanswered questions. But it’s not running if it’s a road trip and the oldest, thorniest unanswered question is along for the ride.

If you follow my blog you will probably already know that I am head over heels in love with this entire EG-Fix-It Series. This third story is finished, but Steve & Bucky's road trip continues in part 4, which is currently being posted (updates weekly). I believe this fic can be read as a standalone but, really, why would you deprive yourself of even a single word of this absolutely magnificent series? Every word, every detail, every narrative choice feels deliberate and well thought out. It's a masterclass in subtle storytelling and yet so rich in its themes, characterizations and descriptions of people, places, and food. This fic will make you hungry in so many different ways. A lot happens between the lines which may require some patience at times, but when the emotional payoff hits—it really, really hits. I cannot recommend this enough. Spectacular all around.

🚗 where the days are longer by endofadream | E, 13K

Author's summary: And maybe that’s what they’re running from. Those ghosts. That minefield. The suffocating pressure to live up to who they used to be when who they used to be has now become stale, recycled words in textbooks and museums and clickbait online articles.

They fuck off to the coast, trying to put as many miles between them and D.C. as possible. New York is loud and claustrophobic at the best of times, but California has the open skies and roads that make Steve ease a little more into his skin.

I have such an immense fondness for this story. There are some very minor problems with shifting POV in the first chapter, but please don't let this deter you from giving this story a chance—it's got so much heart. This is a slow and meandering piece that can be best summed up as: Steve and Bucky being so very much in love. Set in some undefined period post-CATWS, in a world where the events of Civil War never happened, Steve and Bucky decide they’re tired of fighting and conforming to what everyone else wants them to be and just get in a car and drive all the way to California. There, they start figuring out how to live in the future while also accepting that they can never quite leave the past behind, and that time, indifferent to the tragedies of (not quite) mortal men, will inevitably keep marching on—whether they want it to or not. To quote directly from the story itself: They’re both men out of time, so they make their own.

🚗 Lightning in a Bottle by odetteandodile | E, 63K

Author's summary: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking.The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction…

Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride. It gets more complicated from there.

This AU offers an intriguing twist on the The Road Trip as a genre, Shrunkyclunks as a trope, and modern!Bucky as a character—it's an electric ride from start to finish—in more ways than one… *wiggles eyebrows* ...yeah ok, I’ll see myself out. It was either this or something about 'chasing all kinds of storms together' and I just couldn’t resist. Anyway, this story is a clever and unique take on canon events (not just limited to the CA movies!) and I don’t really want to give too much away and spoil all the fun, so I’ll just say this: If you are in the mood for a thrilling sci-fi/adventure/romance hybrid-story with beautiful evocative writing, characters that actually act like the smart, competent grown-ups they supposedly are, sex scenes that are both hot and emotional, and a touch of spy/mission fic to go along with a free crash course in weather phenomena—this is the fic for you!

🚗 The Only Familiar Thing by brideofquiet | E, 39K

Author's summary: Steve takes a breath, steels himself, and asks, “Where are we going, Buck?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one driving, Steve.”

And before Steve can protest, Bucky gives him that broad, toothy grin again. The worry pitted in his stomach ebbs, and he decides—what the hell? Why not? Steve pulls his helmet on and swings a leg over the bike. Bucky settles in behind him, and he cranks the engine to life.

A Post-CATWS fic, in which Bucky has returned to Steve after being on the run for a while. They are together, share an apartment in Brooklyn, and Bucky has regained most of his memories—so yay! All good, right? Well, things are going…uh...let's say they're going. See, Steve and Bucky are still very much in love—the thing is, they're pretty good at the being in love part but pretty awful at the talking about it (and everything else that matters) part. So much so that they accidentally on purpose non-communicate and out-stubborn each other into going on a road trip, where things will eventually—inevitably—come to a head. Throughout the trip, the tension between them builds and builds until finally they have to admit that sometimes being partners, lovers, best friends, and knowing someone better than anybody else in the world, still doesn't mean that you can *actually* read their mind. Sometimes you gotta use your words. The author skillfully manages to create a story that treats its characters and their conflict seriously, while also infusing it with a healthy dose of humor and romance to always keep the readers on the right side of 'frustrated' (i. e. invested, not irritated).

🚗 old college try by kafkian | E, 19K

Author's summary: Bucky wonders if it’ll ever stop feeling like stealing: Steve Rogers, Captain America, the hope of a nation tucked into Bucky’s right hand. It’s the heist of the century.

In which Bucky Barnes remembers himself, Steve, and what it means to be selfish – not necessarily in that order.

Another old favorite of mine. Set post-CACW, this fic starts with a recently defrosted Bucky and a somewhat unmoored Steve in Wakanda, as they try to figure out what to do next: Keep fighting the never-ending wars of other people or run away, see the world, and retire to a quiet life? Well, since this is a road trip fic, I think you can guess which option they go for. It's a beautifully written story about Steve and Bucky's journey across continents and decades, and their ultimate arrival in a life that they never dared to hope they could have one day. This was written in 2016, so right between the fanfic avalanche caused by TWS and the frenzy of EG-Fix-Its. Re-reading this for the first time in quite a while made me realize that—aside from being a fantastic story in its own right—it's also an interesting commentary on popular Stucky fics that came before it (you can see clear influences but also some gentle rebuttals to popular fanon of the time) as well as very much a product of its time. And I don't mean that in a negative or disrespectful way at all, but simply, that it also serves as a fandom artifact; a text that reveals and reacts to certain trends, shifting attitudes, and developments in Stucky fanfiction over the years. Either way it's definitely well worth a read.

🚗 The Long Way: A Stucky Fancomic by BeaArthurPendragon, LittleWolf82 | T

Authors' summary: After Thanos is defeated, Steve doesn't stay in the past. This is the story of where he and Bucky go next.

A little something different here: a road trip fancomic! And oh, it's only one of my favorite fic writers teaming up with one of my favorite artists—what's not to love? This is an EG-Fix-It that simply ignores the last five minutes that Ruined It All and instead tells the story of what could've or should've happened to Steve and Bucky after EG. A story that is infinitely kinder and truer to these characters. Sweetly told and beautifully drawn—an absolutely wonderful collaboration.

🚗 i need a forest fire by tomorrowsrain | T, 65K

Author's summary: In which Tony Stark makes a reckless decision, becomes a wanted fugitive, goes on the run with the former Winter Soldier, and learns how to forgive. For his part, Bucky Barnes is just trying to hold himself together. AU, post-Civil War.

This is the only fic on this rec list that does not have Bucky and Steve going on a journey but instead it's Bucky and...Tony. WAIT! Hey, come back! I know that for a lot of Steve and/or Bucky fans the idea of reading a 65K fic that heavily features Tony Stark does not really sound like an enticing prospect. BUT! Hear me out. This is a fic that runs with one of the core concepts of fix-it fanfiction, which is: What if these characters actually talked to each other for a change? And yes, it gets messy and complicated and often painful—nothing is glossed over and no one is let off the hook easy. What you get here is a fantastically written story that is simultaneously an intimate & slow character study of both Bucky and Tony, a grand sweeping road trip fic with a thrilling plot that will have you on the edge of your seat (there is a moment in this where I really thought it was all over), AND a decade spanning tale of epic love. If you're worried that there is too little Stucky or Steve in this, don't be. Even before he shows up around the halfway mark of the fic, Steve is very much present the entire time. It's incredible what the author pulls off here. This is one of my all-time favorite fics. I love it a totally not normal amount.

🚂 Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven? by phoenixflight | E, 56K

Author's summary: It's summer of 1934, a quarter of all Americans are unemployed, and record numbers of migrant workers are hopping freight trains to seek their fortune out west. What are two boys from Brooklyn to do?

Or, Steve and Bucky ride the rails, become socialists, and fall in love, in no particular order.

This story is a bit of an outlier on this list because not only is it the only fic that's set in the pre-war period, it's also not strictly a road trip fic, but a rail trip fic. Usually the road trips in these stories are either (1) a last ditch effort at saving a friendship/relationship, (2) a way of finding oneself and/or making peace with one's past, or (3) the 'we survived all this and here we are together in the future, so let's go and actually see some of that world we fought so hard to save' victory lap. The impetus for travel in this fic, however, is born out of sheer necessity. It's the height of the Great Depression and Steve and Bucky are really poor and really desperate—so desperate even that they're willing to leave behind Brooklyn, their families, and their lives as they know it to go look for work in the West. This is not a fic that's always easy to read, circumstances are dire, attitudes are, ahem, authentic to the period, and the nostalgia-tinted glasses about the good old days before the war will get firmly knocked off your face. It's also a story that will show you time and time again that sometimes you will find kindness, love and almost overwhelming humanity in the places you least expect it. And listen, if period accuracy and a very political Steve Rogers do not convince you, let me tell you that there's also a lot of pining in this. So. Much. Pining.

Ok. This was fun.

Next up: Short fics under 10K

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stucky rec list #steve x bucky #steve x bucky fic rec #stevebucky fic rec #stevebucky #my recs

177 notes · View notes