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bluebeary-jay · 11 months

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If I could hold you for a minute

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier wants nothing more than to go home to you. And thanks to his partner's generosity, he gets to.

Tags: just pure FLUFF, mayyybe a sprinkle of suggestive humor, established relationship, Steve teases Javi a bunch, Javier is a BIG SIMP (i'm serious)

Warnings: none ♡

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: something different for you guys 🙈 i'm sadly still on semi-hiatus because of my finals, but I managed to finish this little fic as a break from my angsty Joel pieces. i reaaaally hope you all will like it 😌💕 also, it's dedicated to my dumbass in crime @lily-inbloom 🫡😘 luv you babes

This was one of the worst days agent Peña had in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

First, two people from Escobar’s inner circle managed to escape the raid on the laboratory in which he and Murphy participated, leaving both of them exhausted and frustrated. Then Melissa gave Javier a bunch of shit because of some documents, and on the way to his desk some asshole bumped into him, making him drop and break his phone. And now they had to stay after hours to wait for Carrillo.

“It’s for you, Peña.”

So yeah. His day was shit so far.

His pity party was cut short when Steve sitting across from him hissed his name again. Javier shot him an irritated look and flipped him off, not in the mood to talk to any informants or their superiors.

“Not now, Murphy,” he grumbled, but his partner still handed him the stationary telephone from their desk, ignoring the hostility radiating from the man.

“Just take it, asshole. She’s worried you’re not answering her calls.”

At that, Javi sat up straight and in a split second took the handset from Steve, pressing it to his ear.

“¿Querida?” he asked quietly, paying no attention to Murphy rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Javi,” your voice came through the receiver. “You weren’t picking up.”

Almost instantly the tension was lifted from Javier’s shoulders and he exhaled deeply. You had a talent of putting him at ease, even when you weren’t by his side.

“Lo siento, cariño. Some idiot broke my… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask when you finish work? I can swing by and we can go grab some food on the way home.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his brows. He hated saying no to you and if he could, Javi would give you the world on a silver platter – but some things, he didn’t have any control over.

“No sé, cariño. We have a shitton of papers to read with Steve, and we’re waiting for Carrillo to fill us in on the latest action. I’ve got no idea how long it’s gonna take, sweetheart.”

Steve lifted his head and shot Javier a teasing look, but Peña ignored him, turning his chair to the side.

“Alright, so what do you say I’ll bring you some takeout? You can also ask Steve what he’d want, I’ll be at this place we went to a week ago–”

“No, querida, no,” he sighed, this time with affection. Your voice was a temptation enough to throw everything to hell and run home to you, but to hear the kindness and love in your words, without even seeing your expression… It was heart-clenching. “We don’t need anything, you just go back home safely. I’ll try to get away from here as soon as I can.”

You didn’t answer at first, but then hummed half-heartedly.

“If you say so. But please, eat something.”

Javi smiled absentmindedly, covering his eyes with his fingers. He imagined your concerned expression, the receiver nestled next to your ear, near the spot he so liked to nuzzle with his nose. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

He could hear a trace of a smirk in your voice.

“I know you, Peña.”

“Too well, I think.”

“You love it, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He heard you yawn and the smile disappeared from his face. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get to bed when you’re back.”

“I won’t be home for at least a couple more hours, sweetheart,” Javi told you softly. “You can go to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you repeated stubbornly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, cariño.” There was that sweet, teasing note in your tone, and a grin spread across Javier’s face again. “But that will just give you more reasons to come home quickly.”

“I’ll try,” he just offered in a whisper, resting his forehead on his fist. “Call Steve if anything happens, alright?”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Long since gone were the times you’d argue with him about that. You knew how terrified he was at the thought of losing you. “I love you, baby.”

“También te amo.”

He didn’t immediately hang up, waiting just in case you wanted to add something else. The line went dead, however, and with his lips pressed Javi put the phone back in the center of the desk.

“You have it bad, Peña.”

Of course. Javier should’ve known Steve will start to nag at him again.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and put it between his lips. He knew you’d complain about the smell on his hair and clothes when he got home, but he was already too stressed out and in a desperate need of a smoke.

“I’m not in the mood, Murphy,” he muttered, pulling out the lighter.

“I thought a conversation with your sweetheart would brighten up your day?”

Javier looked up and just as he suspected, Steve had that same stupid grin on his face, like every time the topic was brought up.

Ever since your and Javi’s relationship became more serious, Steve was taking every opportunity to tease his partner. If Javi was feeling generous, he could kind of understand where his friend is coming from – after all, he himself didn’t think he’d ever act like a dumb teenage boy in the presence of a woman. But something about you mesmerized him from the very beginning, and, miraculously, here you both were, in a steady and loving relationship Javier Peña was always afraid of hoping for.

But alas, it was not a day to be understanding. He glared at Steve when the fellow agent didn’t take a hint.

“Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a food delivery, you know,” Steve spoke up with a smirk under his mustache. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’ll sooner hire Escobar to make you sandwiches than let her do it.”

“You wound me, Javi. And to think I was about to take care of Carrillo and let you go home early.”

Javier looked up in surprise at his friend’s knowing smile. Then he blinked, slowly and tiredly, wondering if he didn’t misheard.

“Really?” he asked suspiciously, to which Steve shrugged.

“Why not? I’m in no rush since Connie and Olivia are in Miami, and as funny as it is to watch you yearn and pine, your brooding gets annoying after a while.” Javi didn’t move from his place, so Steve nodded in the direction of the exit. “Just go home to her, Peña. Before I change my mind.”

The face of the agent broke into a smile before he could collect himself. He stood up so quickly that he bumped his hip against the desk, but it didn’t phase him one bit. With a quick shove across the desktop, he swept all the documents to the folder and took his gun from the drawer, tucking it into his jeans.

Murphy was watching him with a smirk.

“You owe me, Javi.”

“Sure,” his partner replied over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get you a sandwich tomorrow.”

A quiet laugh followed him when Peña promptly ran out of their office.

*****

After the call with Javi you tried to find yourself an occupation, intending to stay up as long as you could. He was working like crazy lately, sometimes not even coming home for the night, so a chance to finally spend some time with him – even if it would only be for half an hour – was something you didn’t want to miss.

So you wandered around his apartment. You read a little, watched TV, tidied up the cutlery drawer, folded Javi’s shirts, and now you got onto washing the dishes left from your dinner two days ago.

You were humming quietly, that stupid song which seemed to play on every radio as of late, when you heard a small sound from the hall. You paused and turned off the tap, your heart pounding in your chest, and sure enough there was it again – but this time you clearly recognized it as a key turning in the lock.

Before you could think of what to do, the door opened and Javi came in, locking eyes with you immediately. You blinked slowly, rooted to the spot with your hands lifted, still covered in water and soapsuds.

“Javi?” you asked in surprise. “What are you doin–”

Without saying a word, Javier came up to you in two long strides and put his hands around your waist, dipping you back and kissing you deeply. You made a noise in your throat, moving your wet hands aside, but then sighed contentedly as his lips caressed yours.

“I missed you, cariño. So much,” Javier murmured, not moving further away from your lips than two millimeters apart. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“But what about– Steve, and…” you tried to ask during those brief moments when he gave you a second to take a breath, but was unable (and unwilling) to move away when he was holding you so tightly.

“They’ll be fine,” Javier murmured, moving his hands to your cheeks to cradle them tenderly. “Steve said he’ll handle it.”

He firmly pressed his lips to yours one more time, his eyebrows scrunched with affection. You didn’t ask anything else, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, still careful not to get his clothes wet. After almost a minute of tender kisses and whispered Spanish phrases, Javi rested his forehead against yours with a content sigh. His eyes were closed and he just hummed when you nudged his nose with yours.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for the next few hours,” you said quietly.

“It was a damn torture. I couldn’t wait, hermosa,” he murmured and exhaled heavily. “God, I needed this.”

A bright smile spread across your face at the thought of this man thinking about and longing to see you so much. He sounded so stressed out and tired over the phone, but now it was like all nerves left him for just a moment.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” you asked in a whisper, but Javi shook his head.

“No. Just stay here.”

“I have to rinse the dishwashing liquid off my hands, though. And you need to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“A little. But I mostly mean the cigarette smoke on your hair.”

Javi sighed, murmuring something under his breath. You gave him a peck on the lips. “Go on, cariño. I’ll get everything ready and then we can lay down.”

Javier grumbled, displeased, but didn’t argue any further. “You’ll have to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

“If you manage to keep your eyes open.” Your comment made him crack a smile and you mirrored it. “Go shower. And then come back to me.”

Javi sighed but obediently went towards the bathroom, putting down his aviators and the gun on the table on the way there. You watched him fondly, your heart still swelling with love at how relieved he looked to see you. He must’ve felt your attention on him, somehow, because he turned around in the doorway and sent you a smirk.

“If you like the view so much, you can hop into the shower with me,” he teased, and you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“I would, but then it wouldn’t be a ‘quick shower’.” He smiled knowingly, and you scrunched your nose at him. “Javi, the longer you stand here, the less time we’ll have for cuddles.”

“You raise a good point, hermosa.”

With one last look he disappeared in the bathroom and you shook your head at his antics. A few seconds later you heard the sound of rushing water, so you hurried to your shared bedroom to get everything ready.

You pulled down the blinds and flipped the pillows to the colder side, and then swiftly changed into one of Javier’s shirts you liked to sleep in. You also took his gun from the table, knowing he preferred to have it within reach when he was resting with you.

Earlier that day you started to clean the cupboards, so the room was pretty messy. You spent a couple of minutes putting the piles of clothes and various knick knacks in their places, trying to be as quick as possible. Then you heard the water in the bathroom stopping, and it only took Javi two more minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.

His hair was wet and chest bare, and exhaustion was marking his handsome features, painting shadows over his face. Without a second of hesitation Javi went up to you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You wanted to say that you’ll be done in a moment, but didn’t get a chance – he hid his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling tiredly, and started dragging you backwards to the bed. You swat at him with laughter, but those strong arms of his just held onto you tighter.

“Cariño, I still have to finish–”

“Leave it. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Javi…”

“Come lay with me, mi sol.” He softly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, making you shiver. You felt him smirking. “Come on. Please.”

You faltered at this word, so rarely used by him. He sighed into your shoulder and swayed you two gently from side to side.

Javi was right. Everything else could wait.

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles gently, feeling him relax behind your back.

“Alright,” you murmured. “Come here, baby.”

He hummed and kissed your neck again, then your shoulder, sneaking his hands under your – technically his – shirt.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my clothes?” he asked quietly.

“Every time I wear it.” You felt him take a breath, but you beat him to it. “And don’t say they’d look even better on the floor.”

Javi chuckled and hugged you tighter, still slowly moving backwards with you. “Not this time. Just wanna have you in my arms.”

“You mean in your bed?” You couldn’t help but tease him, and yelped when he bit your neck lightly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

When you two reached the bed, Javi stopped and slowly turned you around before sitting down. You took his face in your hands, staring down at him lovingly, while he gently ran his palms up and down your thighs. He did look tired, with the exhaustion and sadness swimming in his beautiful dark eyes. After a moment he exhaled shakily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your stomach.

“Wanna lie down?” you whispered softly, and he nodded without a word. “Okay. Come here.”

You gently released yourself from his hold and laid down, immediately reaching for Javier and tugging him to lay on top of you.

The moment his head touched your chest, Javi exhaled heavily with relief, closing his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands aside.

“Do you need anything?” you asked quietly, but he just muttered 'no' with a light shake of his head.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, querida.”

You grinned warmly, though he couldn’t see it. “You’re quite a romantic, Javier Peña.”

He chuckled under his breath, lifting himself slightly to meet your adoring gaze. “I thought you already knew all about it.”

“Did I?” you asked playfully, to which he lifted his head.

“What more can I tell you?” he murmured, leaning over you and smirking when your breath hitched in your throat. His brown irises danced across your face, drinking your features in. “Do you wanna hear how all I think about while working are your lips and the sound of your laugh? How the time spent together isn’t nearly enough for me to fully revel in you? Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said sheepishly, making Javi grin victoriously. “You’re probably spending that time in the office not thinking about me but of ways to mess with me.”

“Tal vez, mi sol.” He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and moved lower, whispering into your skin. “But I do wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know, cariño.” You brushed his hair to the back with your fingers, scratching his occiput. “But it’s not your fault.”

He hummed without conviction, still busy kissing every inch of your skin he could reach. One of his hands went to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles there, while the other climbed up to your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“Didn’t you want to get some rest?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your composure. Your face was hot, and Javi hummed smugly at the pitch of your voice. He lifted his head and brushed your cheek with his knuckles, his hand still holding yours.

“I wanted to spend time con mi hermoso sol.” He touched his forehead to yours lovingly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I was serious when I said you’re all I need.”

“I think you need some sleep, too.”

Javi grumbled, seemingly giving in, and kissed you sleepily one last time. His eyes were already closing and his mustache scratched your skin lightly.

“No, querida. Just you.”

*****

The next morning, Steve came to work to the sight of Javier trapping you with his arms against his desk. He was leaving soft pecks on your lips every once in a while – so unlike the Peña Murphy had known before – murmuring something to you with a smile, causing you to giggle, too. You tried to slip out of his grasp, but Javier just pulled you closer. The pair was obviously lost in the moment because neither of them noticed Steve, until he threw a pile of files onto his desk.

“Morning, guys,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing your bashful beam and Javi’s crooked smile with a smirk. He noted that his partner looked way better than yesterday. “D’you get any sleep?”

“Actually, I did.” Javier gazed over at you and squeezed your hand with this look of a lovesick puppy that Steve mocked so often. “Don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.”

“Happy to hear it, because we have a lot to do today.” He sat down and began organizing the notes from Carrillo’s report yesterday, wanting to fill his partner in as soon as possible. He heard Peña sigh.

“Of course.” He glanced up to see the other man stand up and kiss you lovingly – once, twice – before you lightly shoved him back onto the armchair. Steve rolled his eyes when Javi brought your hand to his lips, leaving one last lingering kiss, and then finally letting go of you.

“I’m gonna be late because of you,” you accused him, but he only smirked.

“Lo siento, cariño. Have a good day.”

You said your goodbyes to Steve and turned back to the exit. Murphy shook his head and met his partner’s dark eyes, sparkling with adoration.

“You really have it bad, Peña.”

He didn’t receive any answer, so he just smiled to himself and got back to arranging his desk.

He didn’t get a second of peace, however, because suddenly a paper bag was dropped on the documents he was just filing. Two – a bit squashed – sandwiches were peeking out from the brown paper.

Steve lifted his head, ready to throw another teasing comment, but Javier’s eyes – still full of that raw love – were focused solely on your figure leaving their office.

*****

querida - dear/darling

lo siento, cariño - I’m sorry, darling/honey

no sé - I don’t know

también te amo - I love you, too

hermosa - beautiful

mi sol - my sun/sunshine

tal vez - maybe

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x you #narcos #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #he's probably a little ooc but i read and reread it so many times that idk what words are anymore #javier pena x y/n

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lunarduty · 3 months

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𝙋𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘽𝙀𝘿

☾ sfw & nsfw headcanons for dating soap JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. oral (female receiving). female reader. WC | 2,063 x

SFW

☾ in his mind, he was already your boyfriend before even becoming official. soap is fiercely LOYAL and dedicated - just as soon as he realized the depths of his feelings, he was yours before you even knew it. stopped so much as looking at other people, much less thinking or fantasizing about them. for soap, you were it. he just had to convince you to go out with a guy like him, which is very soap. not always looking before he jumps.

☾ he loves calling himself your boyfriend, or calling you his girl. soap isn’t one to try and make it lowkey or anything. he wouldn’t be unprofessional - disrespecting or making you look bad is the last thing he wants. but soap will insert the fact into mundane little conversations whenever he can. the team quickly gets tired of it long before he does.

“soap, you joining us for drinks after the debrief?” “don’t know,” he says, sounding awfully CHIPPER for someone who might miss out on a night at the pub. “gotta check in with my girl, see if she wants to do anything tonight. missed out on lunch with her, y’know.” he was still beating himself up over that. you kept insisting it was fine - you both have crazy schedules sometimes. but soap didn’t want to make it a habit of blowing you off. gaz nodded like he agreed - soap didn’t think he really got what it meant to be your boyfriend.

☾ his favorite thing in the world is making you laugh, and he does it so easily. and a lot of the time, he doesn’t even mean to. soap can be blunt and cheeky sometimes, and his smart mouth has gotten him in hot water more often than not - but he’s always very happy to make you laugh, even accidentally. always acts kinda proud when his jokes land perfectly. or if he’s not in a great mood, but ends up saying something that makes you laugh, it always brightens his mood.

☾ while he usually finds one petname and sticks with it, soap is known to call you different ones - each worse and more SAPPY than the last. they’re never spoken seriously, he just enjoys seeing your nose wrinkle and look at him as if he just tracked dog shit into the house. it’s one of his favorite ways to tease you without feeling like he’s going too far, like he does with some of his mates.

with his nose buried against your neck, and the slowly thump of your heart vibrating on his chest, soap was damn near close to following you into unconsciousness. it had been a chaotic last few days - the mere chance to cuddle up with you in bed had him relaxed beyond the point of needing a quick fuck to tire him out. at least until you shifted your legs, and your icy toes pressed against his legs. “fuck, lass. toes are fuckin’ freezing,” he hisses against your shoulder. you just hum, not bothering to reply, more interested in finally falling asleep. he hums in return, and condemns himself to the icy torture. “lucky i love ya, my l’il popsicle.” “jesus, johnny.”

☾ generally enjoys going out on dates than staying home. of course, if you’re more of a homebody or he just doesn’t feel up to going out, a home date is perfectly fine with him. but soap likes going out and experiencing things - most of all, he wants to show you off. absolutely loves walking down the street with you on his arm, or you pulled against his side. tries to get some leave every few months so you two can travel somewhere, but usually, soap’s idea of a good date is simply going somewhere and having fun.

☾ gets super soft when you start getting comfortable around him. before the relationship began, you two were good friends - there was already a layer of comfort and familiarity before, but it’s different when you start dating. so one night, when you both are just chilling on the couch, and you start cackling at a joke on the TV or ugly-crying during a sad scene, soap just REVELS in it. he’s heard how far some people go not to show certain sides of themselves to their partners, and he’s super pleased that you don’t feel like you need to do that with him. on the flip side, soap immediately gets super goofy with you right off the bat, so it’s not like you’re alone in your silliness.

☾ don’t think you can outkiss this man. don’t even try to challenge him. soap mactavish is a man made for kissing and he will do it all day if you let him. your eyes in the morning to wake you up, on your cheek before he leaves, your hand after meeting up for lunch, your lips when he gets home at the end of the day, your neck while doing the dishes, your forehead after a good fuck before falling asleep. soap loves being able to kiss you whenever he wants and he takes full advantage of that privilege.

☾ arguments aren’t super common, but they do happen. soap can be stubborn and sometimes doesn’t see the wider picture. he forgets to take your feelings into account. arguments are usually resolved pretty painlessly, since soap knows he can be dumb sometimes and he doesn’t let his pride get in the way of apologizing. even still, he likes to go out of his way when it comes to make ups. he doesn’t like feeling guilty and can go a little overboard in comparison to the argument.

“so, you forgive me yet, bonnie?” “hmm,” you draw out the hum, even if the smile on your face negates the tension, “i haven’t decided yet.” suppressing his own grin, johnny throws his hands up in defeat. reclines back in his chair with a sigh and a shake of his head - always with the theatrics. “yeah, i figured ya say that. but i’ve learned to never enter a battle without a secret weapon.” “making up for a fight is a battle for you, is it?” your question, though a joke, made him pause. “well, no, i didn’t- fuck’s sake, lass. take it easy on me.” johnny stands, his hands clapping together. “i was listenin’, though. i know you feel all alone when i’m gone so much, and i’m sorry. wish i could change it.” of course, you knew he couldn’t just uproot his whole life. some of the things you said during the argument weren’t even exactly how you felt - just something said in the moment. “johnny, hold on, i didn’t mean-” “hey, hey, i’m not done.” he backs away from you toward the bedroom. “last thing i want is you to be here feelin’ all LONELY again. so i got something to fix all that.” he finally turns and makes for the bedroom door. when you stand and follow to watch, you notice how carefully he opened and slid right past. like he didn’t want you coming in. but you realized right away it was because he didn’t want something getting out. “a puppy? john, this is-” “great, right? can cuddle up to him when i’m not here!”

☾ definitely thinks about marriage super early on, but doesn’t really bring it up because he doesn’t wanna come off as weird or creepy. but honestly, soap knew you were the one right away. he’s not out looking at rings or wedding venues - he just kinda ACCEPTS that he’s gonna marry you. might make little jokes or comments here and there. jokingly calls you his wife or “the missus.” so when he eventually does pop the question, he’s a little taken aback when you’re caught off guard. and then he remembers that, oh yeah, he’s always been mentally married to you since basically forever.

NSFW

☾ it’s not hard at all to tell when soap is in the mood. he’s going to get very touchy if you let him - from soft grazes of his fingers along your skin to straight up groping your ass when you walk by. he is an absolute menace when he’s horny. loves coming up behind you when you’re doing something and just squeezing your hips and kissing your neck. grinds his cock against your ass, as if it isn’t painfully obvious how wound up he is.

☾ foreplay with soap is more fun than anything. there are rare moments when he’s silent and serious and focused, but mostly, he likes to keep it light. makes you laugh before sucking on your tits to take your breath away. says some dumb comment when you’re grinding against his thigh to distract you, only to suddenly change pace and laugh when you whimper. he sees sex with you as something to 100% ENJOY and making sure the both of you have fun with it…

☾ …that is until soap gets completely pussy-drunk off you and just shuts the fuck up and enters this kind of tunnel vision when he’s eating you out. it happens a good 60% of the time - he starts out his usual light and teasing self, kissing your thighs, asking you if you want to fuck his mouth. but just as soon as he gets his tongue on your clit and his fingers buried knuckle-deep, it’s so easy for him to just get lost in it. will make you cum twice before he realizes it, and is almost confused when you’re begging him to stop, or at least give you a break.

“fu- fuck, johnny! i can’t- shit, you need to stop.” those words seem to finally break him of his little trance. your little moans and whimpers of his name are always MELODIC in a way that makes him want to hear more and more. but hearing you ask him to stop makes soap blink and pull his face away - lips parted in his panting, chin glistening. “okay, bonnie?” he asks, a hand squeezing your hip. you’re breathing hard. skin flushed. chin tilted upward with your eyes closed and he wonders just how hard you came. or how many times. “i’m okay,” you answer quickly. “just…need a break. or just fuck me - that works too.” a wide grin spreads over his face, and when he pulls his fingers free, the soft squelching sound almost makes him shiver. “just said the fuckin’ magic words, beautiful.”

☾ not at all picky with positions, so he usually just tries a bunch of different ones or follows your lead. there’s something to enjoy with all of them, so how can he have a favorite? fucking you in missionary gets him on top, where he feels so big and strong and loves feeling you hold onto him like your life depends on it. when you ride him, he gets to watch your face the entire time, or play with your tits, or do anything he wants. getting you in doggy is great when soap is feeling especially FERAL and just wants to drive into you, grabbing your ass, tugging on your hair when he feels like he can’t hear you well enough. gun to his head, he can’t pick just one.

☾ soap does have a preference when he cums. as fucking fantastic as it feels to cum inside you, there’s something otherwordly about pulling out and painting your skin. he saves creampies for slow and sleepy sex (or when you beg for it), but every other time? soap is cumming on your back, your belly, your thighs, your face, your tits. anywhere and everywhere is fair game for him. he’s definitely taken a picture when the sight is too good to leave to memory. eventually deletes them because he doesn’t want them to somehow get out, but not before using it as wank material while he’s away.

☾ very gentle and attentive with aftercare. sex with soap isn’t especially rough or intense most of the time, but he still doesn’t slack on it. kissing you good and proper after you both cum, letting you know just how much he loves you. always gets something to clean you up and talking while he does so - soap is a chatterbox anyway, but more so after sex because he doesn’t want you to start feeling awkward. lots of cuddles and touches when he climbs into bed - but be warned, he does tend to nod off pretty soon.

#call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #call of duty smut #soap x reader #soap smut #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish fanfic

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arcanumofthestars · 2 months

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sorry if its weird- I just got out of a toxic relationship and have been absolutely LIVING! for the Hazbin and Helluva boss boys being sweet! Could you maybe do something like ideal dates they would do with a reader? Anything really- just in the genre of like 'cute little scenarios you'd make up before falling asleep'

ps loved your alastor headcannon <3

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss boys' ideal dates (part 1)

Sum: Where they would prefer to spend their time with you as a date.

Characters included: Alastor, Lucifer, Angel Dust, Blitzø, Stolas, Moxie

Warnings: none, it's just fluff, except for like, three curse words and Angel Dust's job (I've put a note on where that part starts). Reader is gender neutral, if I have missed a pronoun here or there please let me know.

Alastor

Alastor lived in the 1930s. That’s all that needs to be said. A really classy dinner in the most expensive restaurant there is, with low lights and candles. And live music. Oh, the live music. Hell might be a filthy place, but the songs are… well… heavenly. You chat and laugh and eat with the soft sound of the sax playing in the background, the Imp on the stage singing “Somewhere over the rainbow” in a sensual voice. Once you finish eating, Alastor gets up and goes over to the stage. He says something to the musicians and they start playing a quicker rhythm, which you quickly recognize to be one of the most popular dances in the 30’s, called the jive. And you’re not surprised when your date offers you his hand and guides you to the dancing floor.

After a long night, you two go for a walk outside, chatting mainly about the Hotel. You tell him that you believe in redemption, and he finds it foolish, yet adorable. After that, the conversation gets deeper. You talk about secret hopes and regrets, about your lives on earth, what you would have done differently. It’s the first time Alastor is being this open with someone, and you know it. Your date ends with him walking you back to your hotel room and kissing your hand gently, before he wishes goodnight and walks away with one of his few real smiles.

Lucifer

Lucifer gets easily bored- no, tired with all the “King of Hell” bullshit. After all, he’s just a father whose wife recently dumped him. And at first it was really hard for you two to get close, him being afraid you would leave him like everyone else did. You’re not that kind of person, and he knows that now. Still, going out can sometimes be too much for him. All the Sinners and Hellborn running the moment they see him, it makes him feel more lonely, even with you by his side.

So he prefers to stay at home. You two make something to eat, like pancakes (they’re his favorite, trust me). As you eat, you start talking about anything and everything- except ducks, that’s a sensitive subject. The conversation will most likely end with Lucifer showing you some old album with photos of him playing with Charlie when she was a child. After you finish eating, you cuddle on the couch, watching TV. He ends up falling asleep in your arms (you’re the big spoon and I’m not negotiating over that), your fingers caressing his blonde hair.

Angel Dust

Before you proceed, I would like to note that this work includes mentions of Angel Dust’s job. If this kind of content is triggering for you, I would suggest reading only the second paragraph.

Angel’s job is a great part of his life. He might hate it because of Valentino but it is what he does best. So of course he wants to show you his talent- pole dancing. The best place to do that is a famous club near the Hotel (one that Valentino doesn’t go to often.) The owner is more than happy to have the famous Angel Dust dancing exclusively in their business, even if it is only for one night. The show starts, and Angel dedicates the night to you, making all the sinners turn around to see the one that stole the pornstar’s heart. The Spider Demon doesn’t fail to make you blush repeatedly during the show, teasing you openly, in a way you haven’t seen before, not even in his movies.

After the performance ends, you’re too shy to even talk to him, a situation that ends with huge amounts of laughing from both of you. After that you go for a walk outside, and probably have some takeout, because, well, Charlie decided that four times a week the Hotel will be serving boiled vegetables for dinner, “so everyone can stay healthy”, and it isn’t exactly the ideal food for a day. You two end up dancing in the music of some other club in the city, hidden from all eyes. Angel is amazed with the fact that you can enjoy something as simple as that. When you finally head back to the hotel, he replays the sweet moments over and over again in his head and that’s maybe one of the first times he’s blushed from something like that.

Stolas

When I say Stolas has money, I mean you couldn't spend one milionth of it in this lifetime, even if you wanted. He's used to paying for everything, so he really doesn't mind you choosing where you want to go- even if it is the most expensive place in Hell. He has a small panick attack on what he should wear, poor thing hasn't been to a date since, well, forever. He is extremely nervous when he comes to pick you up, but quickly relaxes when you start a conversation. The place is absolutely adorable after all you chose it, and the food is really delicious. Well, I don't have to say much, it's your typical ideal date.

After you two finish eating, you go to the Owl Demon's house (or castle I don't think something that huge is a house). You stand at the balcony for a long time, gazing at the stars, occasionally making a comment on astronomy (after you found out about Stolas' obsession with celestial objects you made your own research). The moments are truly blissful, and when he takes your hand and guides you inside, it's the most sweet thing you have ever seen- he doesn't want anything but you close to him, to feel you scent as he wraps his hands around your waist, burying his face in your neck, trying to get as much of you as possible. Not in a naughty sort of way. Just you, him, and the stars.

Blitzø

Blitz simply doesn't have the time. Don't mistake me, he loves you, but his job is taking up most his days and even with Moxie and Millie's help, he barely manages. He always finds a way to be with you if not daily, three or four times a week. Sometimes you just visit the I.M.P. "facility" and tidy up a bit while he's away, maybe make lunch for everyone and hang out with Loona, who surprisingly thinks you're a very cool person. Sometimes you join him in his little "adventures" in the human world, after all it's a great workout and you have to keep fit.

If Blitz actually finds some time to spend with you exclusively, it will either be eating snacks, cuddling on the couch with him complaining about work. Or. The most extreme fucking thing you ever imagined, like, extreme sports or something. The Imp loves the adrenaline in his veins, and you do too, once you get used to it. After all you'd do anything to spend time with the man you fell in love with. You're a bit dazed afterwards but for some reason he loves seeing you tripping around.

Moxie

Moxie is what you'd call a lovebird. The stereotype one. He buys you flowers and escorts you to the car, putting a rose in your hair or something like that. His suit is literally perfect and you wonder how many times he must have ironed it before he came to your place. Moxie is nervous. Really really nervous. He wants everything to be perfect, but once you reassure him, telling him that everything will be perfect just because you two are together he finally gets to relax. As he drives you there, you constantly ask where you're going (he only told you to dress classy and he's not disappointed with the results), but he doesn't tell you anything. "It's a surprise, you'll like it, I promise". The place is absolutely gorgeous but you can't help but wonder how much it cost... But Moxie's got you covered.

It's the ideal date. And gosh you have so much to talk about. When it ends (the Imp implies every four seconds that there will be more), the moment finds you standing in front of your house door, starting into each others eyes. Because in Hell, you found a soulmate.

That's all for now! I'm sorry that it's too short, I didn't have more time with my upcoming exams. I promise there will be a lot more though! I'm already working on a part two.

The characters that will be included are: Husker, Vox, Valentino, Adam, Sir Pentious, Fizzarolli, Striker.

If you want me to add any more, feel free to ask.

My requests are closed at the moment, regarding anything else. I will open them again around mid or end of March, though it's not sure yet.

Thanks for reading!

-Selena

#selenapost #answered #request #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #angel dust x reader #stolas x reader #blitz x reader #moxie x reader #helluva boss

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beforeimdeceased · 5 months

Note

IM SO HOOKED ON CRYBABY I NEED MORE OMG

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT6

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: you’ve had enough at this point.

a/n: the next chapter is already in the works and guys…things get so… like there’s no going back i think this is the end point 😭

i don’t care if it hurts

masterlist.

no one can get a word in before jesse breaks up the fight. “we go on in two minutes. get it together. fucking get cleaned up.” he pulls at ellie.

you’re baffled, really. such a silly word but it’s the only one you can use. abby never really got into fights, that you’d known of. she was one of your best friends. and you never had the heart to tell her about what ellie had done, so how did she figure everything out? why are you spiraling? ellie probably said or did something to get herself punched. maybe this has nothing to do with you?

“and i’m very excited to introduce our next performers. watching them go from garages, to performing on stages, to signing record deals has been a beautiful journey. i’m happy to say i’ve been here since the beginning. now please make some noise for, seattle revival!”

you and abby are sat backstage as you dress her wounds. you wait to hear a familiar string of notes from jesse as he starts their first song, but you’re surprised by ellie’s voice on the mic.

“guys i just want to start the show off by apologizing to someone very near a dear to me. a very special person in my life who i’ve hurt—“

“we love you ellie!”

“aww i love you too. i want to say i’m sorry to her because i did some really fucked up shit in the past and i hope that she can forgive me and that we can move past it.”

the crowd cheers.

“and go back to being lovey dovey girlfriends. please forgive me babe. it’ll never happen again.”

abby’s mouth falls so far to the ground you could stick your fist in it. her face has never turned red faster. “what the fuck is she talking about? you guys were—are dating?”

you frantically shake your head. “no abby she’s lying. i don’t know what she’s gaining from it either. i think we should go now.”

“and this next song is dedicated to her—“ she points to you, an employee tugs at you to make you more visible, pulling you to the stage. a spotlight falls on you. everybody’s phone is up. everybody’s flash is on. here come the waterworks, fuck. didn’t you say you weren’t gonna cry today?

and then a familiar string of notes plays. jesse and dina catch on quickly, and your heart seeps. there was no way she was playing this song right now.

“when you were here before.”

you’re taken back to that first rehearsal. stuffed in jesse’s parents garage on a gloomy day. you were sitting on a scratched up couch, petting his cat. ellie looked over to you with a smile on her face. “you listen to a lot of music?”

you nod. “i love music. i was honestly so excited to hear you guys are starting a band. i’ll be your first groupie! handmade merch and everything.”

she laughs before whispering something to jesse and dina, then returning to the mic. “we’re gonna dedicate this one to our first groupie.”

“couldn’t look you in the eyes.”

dina and jesse slipped off after that practice and you knew they’d gone to go fuck somewhere, so you stayed with ellie. “they have no idea how to be discreet about it.” you laugh. she shrugs. “good on them, atleast i’m not alone dealing with it anymore.”

she’d convinced you to grab icecream with her. nestled in the booth of the old restaurant over an icecream sundae. soft music playing from its speakers. it was nearly empty, and it had started to rain outside.

“so how long have you known jesse and dina?” you ask, dipping a spoon in your side of the sweet treat. she grabs a cherry from the top, popping it into her mouth. “since we were kids in highschool. those are my best friends. i’m excited to be starting a band with them, and i’m glad i got to meet you.”

you blush.

you’re crying now. onstage, you’re crying. you can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks and underneath your chin. you wipe at them but they just won’t go away. she was so sweet to you a couple years ago. she was the sweetest person you’d ever met. how could you even compare the person singing to you now, and the person you’d met back then?

then you get a glimpse of her. it’s in her eyes. you’re flashing back between that memory and now. her hand in yours, running through the rain. catching the bus back to jesse’s. staying up and watching movies all night. waking up the next day to the lovebirds apologizing, while you and ellie laugh about it so hard your stomachs started to ache.

and you’re conflicted because this is the same ellie that got drunk at a party and threw up all over you. twice. then the next day said, “atleast it was better than what you’d been wearing.” jesus, she was addicting. she’d hooked you in and completely destroyed you. your self esteem. and now she was trying to play nice?

out of the corner of your eye, before you can catch it, abby is walking onstage. she takes a moment to look at you, tears streaming down your face, and decides to turn around. she walks away and it takes you a minute to follow behind. calling for her. begging her to come back.

“abby stop. where are you going?”

“no, just stop. you’re pathetic. why do you take the shit she does? don’t you have any respect for yourself?”

you’ve never heard her speaking to you this way. between your head rushing from the crying and the whiplash you’re getting from her harsh words, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “i don’t just take it abby. how do you even know about that stuff—“

“because jesse and dina told me! i’m supposed to be your best fucking friend but you can’t even communicate the simplest of things. the things i know are hurting you inside. i was gonna— never mind. fucking forget it.”

and then she walks away, disappearing into a hallway. fading away slowly like a ghost. body blurred from your tears. you feel your feet get weak first, then you drop to your knees and onto the ground. huddling within yourself. letting all your tears fall.

the “seattle revival’s last show after party” is one you refused to miss. with everything happening between abby and ellie, you were more than prepared to let it all go. to get drunk or high or whatever the fuck, and stop feeling. this very thought picked you up off that floor, and led you to the dressing rooms. you enjoyed the rest of the show from there, wiping at your face so hard you felt like it would bruise.

when the band found their way into the dressing room, dina and jesse rushed over to comfort you. “i swear i’d bash her head in if it didn’t interfere with the tour. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t be apologizing for her but it’s the only way you’ll get a real one. i’m sorry.”

you had sat with the pain for long enough. you’d cried enough. you didn’t know where abby was or why she said what she did but it was your breaking point. if you were a house, she had pulled a loose brick. making everything collapse within itself. and tumble over everyone else in its path. you felt like…ellie. the world had darkened. the small light, the tiny bits of happiness in you, had melted away. you didn’t care anymore.

you get up to face ellie, her smile fading when her eyes meet yours. everything had left them. all that purity. all that love, was gone.

“honestly i’m over it. let’s go to the after party.”

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romanticintheory · 7 days

Note

Can you do something fluffy and domestic with Price. Like maybe him trying to ask civilian reader out on a date, and everything is just going against him. (He eventually does get to ask her whether or not it was how he planned it.)

john wants to ask his favorite waiter/waitress out on a date, but the universe seems to have other plans for him.

john price x gn!reader

part 2

fluff, john trying his best, domesticity

a/n: ty for the request!! you’re my first one so i hope you like it <3 also, let’s just pretend like the timeline of this fic makes sense :)

Oh, this poor man was hopeless from the start. He had been interested in you for a while and was finding the courage within himself to finally ask you out. He felt silly about the ache in his chest whenever he thought about what your response might be. He just wanted to do right by you was all. So, when he was finally out of his latest mission and allowed to take a break, he was determined to pop the question to you.

The plan was to stop by the flower shop and buy a simple bouquet for you, but when he found himself in front of the store it had been closed. “Family Emergency. Will be back next week.” He didn’t have a week.

Okay, so, no flowers. It was disappointing, to say the least, but he could make do.

You were nearing the end of your shift when your coworker, Missy, tapped you on the shoulder. As you turned away from the table you were cleaning, she leaned down and whispered in your ear, “There’s that hot man here, again. He’s asking for you, dear.”

She ended her news with a knowing wink. Looking past her shoulder, you could clearly see John sitting at a table with a menu in his hands. Your cheeks flushed at Missy’s insinuation.

“Thanks,” you managed to choke out, hoping she didn’t notice how flustered you were.

“Of course. That’s the second time, just so you know,” she reminded teasingly, nudging you with her elbow encouragingly before leaving to go attend to her own tables.

Out of the three times John had been to your restaurant (including this one), he spent the last two specifically requesting your presence. Though you tried not to think much of it, you couldn’t ignore the way it made your heart flutter.

Straightening your uniform, you made your way to his table with a genuine smile—a stark contrast to the fake one you give to other customers just for the sake of work. John pretended like he wasn’t secretly watching you in the periphery of his vision and looked up at you once you found your way to him.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you beamed.

“‘S nice to see you too,” he replied, unable to keep that lovestruck smile off his face. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

You laughed softly, “I’ve been alright. You know, just the same old. How about you, John?”

“I’m afraid it’s been the same for me. Just got off a mission.” Not once did his eyes leave yours. It was almost intimidating, the way he was so dedicated to giving you his full attention.

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” you said hopefully.

It was the perfect opportunity for him. All he had to say was, ”Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime,” and he almost pulled it off.

“Actually, I—”

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Internally cursing himself, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw the contact Laswell flashing on his screen. Usually, when she called, it was something worth hearing. He looked up at you apologetically, but you just smiled and waved your hand at him to let him know it was okay.

Standing up, he answered Kate’s call and pressed his phone between his ear and his shoulder. You couldn’t hear much of what the other person was saying. It was mostly just John nodding his head, saying a quick “yes” or “no,” or mentioning what you assumed were his colleagues' names.

Gathering his things, he turned to you and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave, right now. I apologize for wasting your time like this.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry! It’s nice to have seen you anyway, and I’m glad you’re doing well. I don’t mind, honestly,” you reassured him, secretly disappointed at the fact that his visit was so short-lived.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “If it's not too out of line, may I ask when you get off work?”

Throwing all caution to the wind, you quickly answered, “At about ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty, all right,” he said (more so to himself than you). “Have a good rest of your shift, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, I hope all is well at work,” you nodded, watching as his eyes lingered on your for a moment before he left for the door.

The entire time he was back at work the thought of you sat in the back of his mind. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember why he was there. Something about an important lead? Or maybe a new contact? Honestly, his head was in the clouds.

Even though you didn’t know he was going to ask you out, he still felt guilty for not being able to pop the question to you. As soon as he left the meeting, he was out the door. It was already ten, and it took about twenty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. He silently cursed himself for the second time that day, still determined to get in his car and see if, by some miracle, he could catch you.

He had imagined himself in the exact opposite situation he was currently in. He had wanted to be out of uniform in something more presentable and approachable, being able to spend his time with you without any interruptions. Now, he was having to rush his pace with his uniform on as he attempted to make up for his first failed attempt at asking you out. He didn’t want to be the captain with you, just John Price.

Peeking into the front door of the now-closed restaurant, he scanned the few workers left inside to see if any of them were you only to be met with disappointment. His frustrated grew ten-fold as he turned away from the door, making his way back to his car.

Just as he was about to hop in, you were exiting the side door with your uniform in hand.

“John?” you called out, stopping just a few feet away from him. You almost didn’t recognize him with the way he was dressed (not that you were complaining).

He whirled around instantly at the sound of your voice. “(Y/n),” he started. “I almost thought I missed you.” You smiled. “No, one of my coworkers needed help with something so I stayed behind just a little bit.” “How kind of you. Most would leave as soon as they were able,” he praised, shutting his car door behind him.

“She’s always been kind to me. I figured the least I could do is repay her.” You paused. “So, uh, what brings you back here so late?”

You.

“Well, I was just…” Why was he nervous? He had asked out plenty of people before (though none quite like you). For Christ’s sake, he was a disciplined soldier capable of incredible feats without breaking a single sweat. He’s faced dangerous criminals with a calm face and a stable mind, but with you, oh, it was like everything he ever learned went out the window.

You waited expectantly with bated breath.

“Well, I was actually wondering if you would want to go out with me sometime. Anywhere you like,” he finally managed. “‘Course, feel free to say no. I promise I won’t be hurt.”

He’s lying, of course, but you didn’t need to know that.

Your face lit up at his question, answering with an immediate, “Yes, I’d love to!”

Finally, finally, he could release the breath he was holding. His shoulders visibly relaxed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned at your response.

“How do you feel about movie and a dinner?”

Maybe it didn't go exactly as he'd planned, but at least you said yes, right?

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bby-bo · 1 year

Text

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on.

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school. You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again.

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building.

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??”

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here.

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him.

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again.

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it.

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business.

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now.

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise”

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now.

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in.

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage.

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.”

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”.

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling.

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!”

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question”

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you.

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.”

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this.

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair.

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all.

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist.

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless. There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note.

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.”

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa comfort #sakusa x y/n #msby sakusa #sakusa #kiyoomi #anime #sakusa fluff #sakusa smut #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa scenarios #bby bo sakusa #hq sakusa #sakusa fanart #sakusa fanfiction

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mytemporarycomfort · 1 year

Text

Dearly Devoted

A/N: Thank you all for being patient with me while I was away. I hope you all enjoy

Summary: The Champions reminisce their time with you and they know for sure you are their end game.

Warning:

Champion x Reader

Zelda

The cup of tea managed to refill itself once again.

Zelda was in her study for another long evening and you could tell how drained she was.

No matter how many times she apologized for not spending enough time with you or that you must be stressed from being around her in this state more than anyone else, you always stated "Its my pleasure to help you Zelda. I will be by your side, you are not a burden, you are doing your best. "

She cried when you said that. It felt like a mountain was lifted off her shoulders.

Seeing you asleep in the chaise in the study always left a blush on her face.

Another night of studying means less personal time with you, but she was always grateful to have you near.

After this was all over, she plans to travel with you. She makes that clear to you. Just the both of you, no knights, no books.

Link

Link was behind you on the horse. He held you tight like you might slip away if he loosened up a bit.

You let him rest his head on your chest and your heart beat slows his mind right down.

His duty to Zelda means he isn't always with you. So he gave you one of his shirts.

You wear it whenever you miss him deeply. He came home early one evening and found you cooking some dinner in his shirt.

BOOM bright red.

He snuck behind you and hugged you with a quirked eyebrow.

"I missed you Link, I happened to cook some extra dinner just in case. Want some?"

His heart bursted right out of his chest. Ugh, he is simping.

As you two ate dinner, he noticed, your left hand seems a little empty.

If you would accept, a ring on that hand would suit you nicely,

Urbosa

She saw you getting attacked by some Yiga members and who is she to not help, until she noticed...

You fought back with fire and fury in your eyes.

Despite that, she was not one to let any warrior fight alone if she can help it.

You thanked her. You spoke to her as a person who helped you, not as chief of Gerudo.

She saw you as another Zelda, but also different. You were strong, full of heart, but you were also innocent, naive.

She wanted to help you grow, and grow under her care you did.

Urbosa's softer side became clear to you when she was training with you and her hands guided you unlike the others.

You have grown to be seen as equals yo Urbosa. You can truely handle your own.

Even if it ment you would venture out for your own journey now, you was grateful that you were apart of her story and her yours.

"You have helped me Urbosa. You helped me grow and I hope to continue to be by your side."

She smiled one full of relief. Of course you can stay.

Mipha

You always protected her much like her brother. But you were not her brother so why did you fight so fiercely to protect her.

She always found it strange that you didn't mind all the fighting despite the wounds you got by the end.

She always healed you with no hesitation.

Mipha worried about you quite a bit, and it showed how often she was with you.

She found safety and comfort in your presence. A kind of feeling that made her want to be by your side for as long as fate would allow.

It was common to find you two together. A princess and her protector.

She didn't like not being by your side for long stretched of time. She's afraid of not being there to heal you fast enough if anything happened.

"I will be there for you, like I know you will be there for me. We got this."

You two held each other. This is what safety and comfort is. You two keep each other grounded.

Revali

He looks down at his hammock as you laid there reading your newest book.

Revali is a bit of a brat sometimes and yet here you are still here.

2 years.

You stood by him for two whole years and you're still here.

He was so dedicated to his bow, when you held his hands fot the first time, he stopped breathing.

He looked like he turned into a statue.

Then his feathers puffed up and he frowned.

Whenever you show him affection his feathers would puff up,

He would hide his face in his wings then hug you as tight as possible.

He's still learning to show his emotions in a less agressive way, but you know he means well.

Sometimes he thinks hes too much, he'll accidently push you away.

"I don't regret a thing 'Vali. I love you regardless of your little quirks, you know that right?." You told him after a long day of making you watch him in the target range.

He loves you so much. He puts his beak on the top of your head. This was the most gentle he's been with you.

Daruk

You are so soft, this man is crying

He remembers his first sleep over at your house, boy was nervous! Your house is so cozy!

He enjoyed his time at your place, hopefully like you enjoyed his.

He was so happy when he saw that you kept all the little gems he gave you, but why wouldn't you?

He wants to spend so much time at your place. He might as well move all the Gorons over to your little town. JK....but what if?

He just doesnt want to hurt you by being so big.

"I feel so safe around you" You told him after you two returned. to death mountain after his stay at your place.

He's keeping you safe then. He decided.

He doesn't know all the details yet but that is sure.

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cleo-fox · 3 months

Text

Wildest Dreams

Summary: It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

Pairing: James Conrad x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), friends to lovers, mutual pining.

A/N: Sometimes, you're having a conversation with @sarahscribbles and something she says triggers your latent James Conrad brainrot and words happen. Saz, this is dedicated to you. 😘 (Also, everyone go read her stuff).

It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

You didn’t even think he was in the country—last you’d heard, he was somewhere in Vietnam. Not that he was exactly keeping you apprised of his movements. The nature of his work means that he turns up or calls unexpectedly and sends letters inconsistently. It’s something that you’ve grown used to over the years—you’ve had no other choice, really.

The question, though, of whether or not you’ll be waiting for him is not really a question so much as it is an inevitability. Of course you will. You always will. Like it or not, the man is your weakness, your Achilles heel, the crack in your armor.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the latch and chain and open the door.

There’s a moment where you catch his first, unguarded expression—a flicker of relief, so quick you might miss it if you didn’t know him as well as you do. It strikes you as odd—you’d expect him to be glad to see you, perhaps, but relieved? Not necessarily. Especially not after the last time you’d seen him—that disastrous Christmas two years ago when wine and seasonal sadness had prompted you to say more than you intended about your feelings for him.

He’d said you were better off as friends.

It still stings, even thinking of it now. You haven’t spoken of it since. He hadn’t been back since then, either—that in and of itself wasn’t necessarily unusual for him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his absence this time around.

Before you can think about whether it’s a good idea, you’re stepping forward to embrace him. You always forget how tall he is, how he takes up space and towers over you, how that makes you feel small and safe. He still smells the same—Ivory soap with a hint of cloves and a little bit of musk—and your name still sounds too good in that deep purr of a baritone.

“It’s good to see you,” he says into your ear.

Is it just you or is he holding you awfully tight?

It’s probably just you. Isn’t that the sad theme of all of this? Just you with the feelings, just you with the broken heart. Just you, secretly pining for him since university and having it all come to nothing. Just you. Alone as always.

“You too,” you say, even though seeing him makes all the old bruises and scars on your heart ache with a renewed fervor. You release him and gesture to your door. “Come in.”

You notice a cut on his left cheek, a small, yellowing bruise blooming around the edges of it. It must be a few days old. He carries a duffle bag slung over his back—a huge, beat up leather thing he’s had since university. He sets it on the floor as you lock up behind him.

“What are you doing here?” spills out of your mouth before you can think about how it sounds, despite the fact that your eyes are drinking him in like he’s water in a desert. “I thought you were in Vietnam.”

“Pacific,” he says. There’s a slight shadow in his expression, like there’s something he doesn’t want to say. “Just got back this evening.”

“Do you want tea?” It’s the only thing you can think to do.

“Please,” he says.

You don’t need to ask him how he takes it because you know. English Breakfast, splash of cream, no sugar. You could make it in your sleep.

You busy yourself in the kitchen, fishing out a packet of shortbread biscuits from the back of your cupboard while the kettle boils. Out of habit, you take out the pair of chipped mugs you’ve had since university. You’d unintentionally taken one from the refectory during a particularly sleepless week in the middle of exams and been too embarrassed to return it. He’d teased you about it at first, but he had then stolen his own mug the following week in what he described as “solidarity with your crimes.” When you moved into your first apartment, he’d given you his as a housewarming gift.

“This could really hurt my career if they found out about it,” he’d said solemnly as his eyes danced with barely repressed laughter. “I thought it would be best to give it to you for safe keeping.”

You’d rolled your eyes and laughed at him then, but you always wrapped them extra carefully when you moved—as though by keeping those mugs whole, you could also keep Conrad safe.

The faint ghost of a smile that you catch when you bring the tea and biscuits out to the living room warms your heart and gives you a little spark of hope. Perhaps all isn’t lost. Maybe things can go back to the way they were before that disaster of a Christmas.

You set the mugs and shortbread down on the table and take your seat next to him on the couch.

Your tea is still too hot, but you pick it up anyway, just to give your hands something to do. Maybe the slight sting of the hot ceramic against your palms will help you keep you grounded.

“I presume you’re not telling me where in the Pacific for a reason,” you say.

He nods. “Correct.”

He looks tired, you think. There’s a tightness in his jaw that’s new, a distant look in his eyes that seems different than his usual brand of stoicism. You want to be annoyed by his lack of detail, but the weariness makes you pause.

“Are you all right?” you ask.

His laugh is short and humorless. “As I ever was.”

You tilt your head. “That’s not really an answer.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It was a difficult job.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze sliding to the wall across the room, to a landscape painting you’d found at a thrift shop. “I didn't know if I’d make it back, to be quite honest.”

You’ve never seen him like this before and it’s somewhere beyond disorienting. Conrad is ruthlessly capable and appropriately confident; the idea of something being beyond his skill set is baffling as it is unsettling.

“I’m glad you did,” you say softly.

You expect him to give you a slight half smile, perhaps nudge his shoulder against yours. But instead, his gaze remains fixed on the middle distance, an odd, melancholy sort of cast to his blue eyes.

“You don’t really seem like you’re all right,” you say gently.

There at last is that little half smile that you were expecting. Somehow, it’s less comforting than you thought it would be.

“There’s a certain amount of clarity that you get from an experience like that,” he says evenly. “You're forced to confront a lot of things. Choices you’ve made. People you’ve hurt.”

You think he’s referring to what happened two years ago and you try not to flinch. He can’t know that you still think about that, that you’re still hurting. That you haven’t stopped loving him, even though you’ve pretended that you have.

He pauses for another moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “In the moments when I thought I wasn’t coming back, the only thing I could think about was you.”

Air vanishes from your lungs. You’re afraid to even hope, as if even acknowledging the possibility would jinx it.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He finally looks at you and your heart creeps into your throat. “I was not entirely honest with you at Christmas.”

You realize that you’re holding your breath, but you can’t help it.

“I thought that by turning you away, I was keeping you safe,” he says. “I thought by hiding the truth, I was saving you from a lot of pain.”

Your heart is pounding. You lick your lips. If he means what you hope he means, you need to hear him say it—you can’t believe it otherwise.

“And what is the truth, James?” Your voice wobbles just a little bit.

His gaze is locked on you, infinite as the stars. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you for years,” he says softly. “And when I thought I wasn’t coming back, all I could think about was how much I regretted not telling you.”

In the moments leading up to this, it felt as though time was slowing. This is the moment, though, where everything stops. In this moment, it’s just the two of you—Conrad with those devastating blue eyes that peer right into your soul and you with your broken heart and wounded pride.

He wanted you all this time.

You raise a shaking hand to wipe away the tear that’s somehow escaped the corner of your eye.

All this time.

“You have every right to be angry with me.” His voice is low and soft, just for you to hear. “And I understand if you need time. But I came here tonight to tell you that if you still want me, I’m yours.”

You are feeling entirely too much. You want to kiss him. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him and never let go.

All this time.

“James, I—” Your voice catches in your throat and you take a deep breath, fighting back a sob that’s bubbling in your chest. You set your tea back down on the table. Your hands are shaking.

“I—I don’t even know where to start. I—” Your voice catches again on that sob in your chest. You pause again to collect yourself. You open your mouth to speak and a strangled sort of laugh tumbles from your lips instead.

“God.” You wipe another stray tear from your cheek. “You’re such a fucking idiot. I mean, not just for making all those assumptions about what was best for me, but also just—” Your voice catches again and you pause. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly and there’s a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

You take a shaky breath. “Yes and no.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “You should have asked me if safe was what I wanted, instead of just making that decision for me.”

He nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing is safe, James,” you continue. “It’s an illusion at best. You could live a perfectly dull life in the suburbs and be hit by a bus on your way to your perfectly dull job.” You pause, weighing the words that you want to say next. “I never wanted safe,” you say, your voice catching again in your throat. “I just wanted you.”

There’s a moment of quiet and Conrad looks well and truly chastened.

You take another deep breath and reach for his hand. The look that he gives you then—like he’s afraid to hope that youstill want him—is almost enough to make you abandon what you want to say next and kiss him on the spot.

“I know what I want,” you say quietly. “I understand the risks. You don’t need to throw yourself on the sword to protect me and you certainly don’t need to make those decisions for me. I need you to understand that if this is going to work.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Okay.” You exhale. “Will you shut up and kiss me now?”

The look of relief on his face is like sunshine.

“Come here,” he says softly, pulling you into his lap, your legs framing his hips. He cups your face in his hands, looking at you like you’re something wonderful, like he can’t believe you’re his.

Then he takes a deep breath and finally closes the gap between you.

You’ve waited years for this kiss. From the early days of your friendship coalescing around late nights and stale coffee and jokes that are only funny at two o’clock in the morning to the agony of watching him leave for basic training and then Vietnam and god knows where else. This kiss was never guaranteed—and in part, that’s why it’s so good. It could have been taken from you by any number of dangers or even just Conrad’s own foolish need to protect you.

But you finally have it and it’s everything you had thought it would be.

His mouth is slow and soft against yours, his tongue moving in a gentle caress that makes you feel every year of waiting and yearning and hoping. You mourn the years lost, but you can’t help but savor how perfect it feels as a result. Your hands map the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as your tongue traces the soft line of his lips. You want to remember every part of this moment—every part of him.

It’s a few minutes later when you part, both of you slightly breathless. You rest your forehead against his.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” he says softly. His eyes are still shut.

You press your lips against his forehead. “Make it up to me, then.”

He slides a hand up to the back of your neck and pulls you back into another kiss.

You can feel the press of his growing erection against your thigh, but for now, it’s enough to just kiss him, to let your body melt against his and feel his hands in your hair, on your hips, framing your face. He makes a low, soft noise in the back of his throat when you nip at his lower lip, somewhere between a moan and a sigh and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

But the longer you kiss him, the more you want, and it slowly begins to build a far more frantic need low in your hips. His hands become bolder, sliding along the curve of your waist and hips, stroking your thighs, squeezing your ass as he pulls you ever closer. You, in turn, press yourself more firmly against him, rolling your hips against his until he makes that low groaning sound that leaves you weak.

But it’s his hand wandering up to slip that first button on your blouse that makes you pull away from him, breathless.

“Bed?” You intend it as a question, but it sounds a little more like a plea.

His smile is devilish as he undoes the second button. “I thought you’d never ask.” His gaze slides back down to your open blouse and he quickly slips the third and fourth buttons.

“I thought we were going to bed,” you say with a smirk as the final two buttons come undone.

“We are,” he says as he pulls your blouse off your shoulders. You shiver under the weight of his gaze as he stares greedily at your breasts.

“You seem a little distracted,” you say.

“Well, I can’t very well leave a job undone,” he says, trailing a finger along the scalloped edge of your bra. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Yes, you seem deeply concerned with propriety,” you say, shooting a pointed glance at his finger.

“Very much so,” he murmurs, his fingertips caressing the curve of your breast and then skimming behind your back to unhook the clasp in one single, swift motion.

The straps slip down off your shoulders and he tugs the garment away from you.

He lets out a low groan as he looks at you, which sends a bolt of slick desire straight to your cunt. His hands cup your breasts.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his thumbs against the sensitive skin of your nipples. You squirm slightly in his lap and he gets a devilish look in his eyes.

His mouth quickly replaces his right hand on your breast.

He’s too good with his mouth. That’s the first thought you have as his lips and tongue cover your breast. But then he catches your nipple between his teeth and gently teases and pulls at the sensitive skin until it puckers and hardens in the heat of his mouth. Your hands rake through his hair, curling into a fist when he finds a particularly good spot. You are arching into his touch, your hips rolling mindlessly against his.

“James,” you gasp out. “Bed, please.”

He laughs quietly against your breast. You expect him to release you, but instead he moves his mouth to your right breast.

“Fuck,” you hiss as his tongue and teeth exert the same kind of blissful madness on your right breast while his hand kneads and teases the left.

You find yourself torn between begging him not to stop and begging him to take you to bed and you’re honestly not sure which one you want more. But a minute or so later, he releases you, lips curling into a smirk.

“I think you enjoyed that impropriety,” he says, eyes sparkling with a combination of desire and laughter that leaves you dizzy.

“You’re on thin ice, James Conrad,” you say, though you can’t hide your smile.

Desire overshadows the laughter in his expression, like the moon eclipsing the sun. “Let me take you to bed and earn my forgiveness, then,” he says.

You slide off his lap onto wobbly legs, but you don’t have to worry about it for very long because he immediately sweeps you into his arms and carries you down the hall to your bedroom.

In your room, he sets you down on your bed and divests you of your jeans with such speed and efficiency you find yourself wondering if it was part of his training.

You slide back on the unmade bed, looking up at him as he looms above you, handsome and a little dangerous in the moonlight that breaks through your curtains.

He allows himself a moment to just look at you, his gaze moving slowly up your body, drinking you in like he’ll never have enough.

Finally, he crawls onto the bed, his gaze intent and hungry, filled with purpose.

He stops at your hips, spreading your thighs wide, licking his lips as he looks you over before lowering himself to kiss the gusset of your underwear.

You can feel the hot rush of his breath against your cunt, the thin, damp fabric the only thing that separates you from the warmth of his mouth. He kisses the fabric again, his nose nudging against your clit.

“James,” you choke out.

This is all he needs tonight. His hands immediately go to your waistband and pull the fabric down and off your hips.

You both groan at the first brush of his mouth against your cunt, though the noise you make is admittedly much closer to a whimper. His tongue circles your clit slowly at first, teasing and tasting and testing until he finds the motion that makes you gasp his name.

You’d thought he was joking about earning your forgiveness, but the way he moves is as though he believes his absolution is truly on the line.

Or maybe he’s just really good at this, you think. It might not be that deep. You don’t need to overth—

Almost as though he can tell that too many of your brain cells are available for coherent thought, he slides one long index finger into you, curling and searching until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and dig your heels into the firm muscles of his back.

He’s building a warm, whirling tension in your hips, burning bright as a meteor about to strike. You grasp at the bed sheets as the rolling crescendo of sensation threatens to overwhelm you.

His free hand snakes up to find yours clasped in the sheets. His fingers twine with yours.

Something about this little gesture of affection after all those years of wanting and hoping strikes at something deep within you. You’ve never loved anyone like you’ve loved him. You don’t know that you ever will love anyone like you love him.

And maybe it’s that thought, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but this is the moment you come completely undone.

You cry out as your back arches, pleasure rushing through you. His grip on your hand feels like the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as your whole body succumbs to the feeling. He slows the pace of his tongue to match the rolling swells of the aftershocks as they roll through you.

“James.” It’s the first coherent word you say and he draws away from your cunt reluctantly, though not before placing a soft, lingering kiss against your clit.

Before you can make a joke about how he’s overdressed, he’s sitting up and peeling that ridiculously tight shirt over his head. Your lips part as you feast your eyes on that beautiful expanse of muscle, firm and perfectly sculpted—

—and painted with a massive bruise across his ribs, brilliant and purple as a sunset.

Your post-orgasmic stupor is momentarily forgotten as you roll to your knees, crawling over to him. “You’re hurt.”

He looks confused for a moment before following the path of your gaze. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Looks a lot worse than it is.”

“The same way your broken finger was nothing?” you say, fingertips trailing to just beneath the edges of the bruise. The broken finger had happened in your last year of university during an unsanctioned game of rugby. He had insisted it was just sprained, even though it was nearly black in color. You knew better and had dragged him to the hospital, where he was informed that not only was his finger broken, but that it was so badly broken that he’d need surgery to set it. Over the years, it had evolved into your go-to example of why he needed to listen to you, the damning piece of evidence that proved he could be too stoic and hardheaded for his own good.

Privately, though, it was also your way of saying that you cared about him, that you worried that his high tolerance for pain and admittedly impressive abilities might lead to him not asking for help when he needed it.

He rolls his eyes, but his gaze is fond. “You’re never going to drop that, are you?”

“Never. You should know that by now.” You put your hands on his shoulders. Should you tell him what you feel? You hesitate for just a moment, but it’s enough for him to notice.

“What is it?” he asks.

You suck in a deep breath. “I want you to be okay with me caring about you.” Your voice is softer than you intend.

He frowns slightly and places his hands on your hips. “How do you mean?”

“Stuff like this,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise. “I know you say it’s nothing but…” You swallow. “And maybe it is but…you’ve always acted a little like my caring about you—even as a friend—was this massive liability for me.” You place your hand over the bruise. “And it’s never felt that way to me at all.”

You can’t quite read his expression. “What does it feel like?” he asks.

You move your hand over his heart, feeling the steady, even beat under your fingers. “Like you’re someone that I love and I want you to be okay,” you say softly. “Is that really so horrible?”

He runs a thumb along your jaw, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not at all,” he says.

You pause for a moment, your hand on his heart. “I just—I don’t want safe, okay? Just you. Let’s start with that.”

“Okay.” His eyes trail down your face to your lips, but he waits for you to close the gap.

You do.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you said too much too soon, if you have instead succeeded in scaring him off, but he kisses you so deeply that it immediately mutes your anxiety, blunting the cacophony of your fears into a muffled background noise that’s easy to dismiss. When your hand starts to drift toward his belt buckle, he pulls away, the desire in his eyes setting your body aflame. “On your back, my lovely,” he says softly.

You lie back on the bed, staring greedily as he finishes undressing.

He cuts a striking figure, lit by the moonlight streaming in through the curtains. Even with that wicked bruise splashed across his ribs, he still looks like something divine and he’s staring at you like you’re equally remarkable. The thought makes you shiver.

The mattress dips as he crawls back onto the bed and positions himself over your body.

The tip of his cock nudges against your stomach. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around the hard length of him. He’s long and thick, big in a way that makes your toes curl in anticipation. A low, pleased groan rumbles in his chest.

He leans in to kiss you as you stroke him slowly, savoring every sound he makes, every sharp intake of breath. After a moment, he places his hand over yours, guiding your hand away. You angle your hips up toward him, wrapping one leg around his waist.

He presses the tip of his cock against your soaking cunt and you suck in a sharp breath. He looks at you and grins as he slowly drags his cock from your entrance to your clit and back, coating himself in your slickness.

“You’re a tease,” you say.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me,” he says, eyes glinting too much for that to be the whole truth.

“I can tell when you’re lying, you know.”

The tip of his cock slowly slips inside you and you gasp.

“Can you?” he says casually, like you’re just having a chat over drinks. He eases back out.

“What happened to the man who was going to earn his forgiveness?” you say.

He grins, pressing his cock back against your entrance. “Oh, I think you’re enjoying this.”

It’s a difficult assertion to deny, especially with the way he rocks into you slowly, each time going just a little deeper—but never quite deep enough—before drawing back. It’s not long before your hips are rocking with his, urging him deeper.

“More,” you breathe.

A smirk curls at his lips. “More?”

You don’t know that you have the words to describe the particular empty ache you feel, or the fact that you know it’s only going to be soothed by the steady, rocking thrust of his cock fully inside you. “Please,” you say instead. “Please.”

“I’ve waited too long not to savor you,” he says. He eases inside you another inch or so before pausing.

“James.” There’s desperation in your voice that you’ve never heard before, a slight whimper that makes you feel wild with need. “I need you.”

“You’ll have me, darling,” he says as he leans in to kiss you. He’s easing forward slowly, but this time, he keeps going until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You whimper, relishing the feeling of him inside you, close as you can be.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t help the way your body reacts to his praise or the soft moan that falls from your lips.

He notices. Of course he does. You feel him smirk as he kisses you and he pulls back slightly to look at you. “Do you like hearing me call you my good girl?”

You nod, but you don’t need to—your cunt flutters around him, tensing.

“Oh, I can feel how much you like that.” He lowers his voice. “My lovely, good girl.”

He slowly rocks his hips once and your breath hitches.

“So very, very good,” he purrs. “You’re taking me so well, darling. And every time I call you my good girl, you feel even better.”

You shudder again as he settles into a devastatingly slow rhythm. Maybe it’s his size or maybe he just knows his angles, but he’s hitting every sensitive place inside you in just the right way and god, you never want him to stop.

“Do you want to be very good for me?” he says in that same low voice.

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s hard to describe how much you want to please him, how much you want him to say your name in that low, deep purr of a voice and tell you that you feel incredible, that you’re doing so well for him. You want to give yourself over to him, let him claim you as his.

“If you want to be very good for me,” he continues, “you’ll come on my cock.”

“Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” He’s shifting his weight slightly, propping himself up on his left arm, bringing his right hand to your clit. His fingers slowly roll over the throbbing bundle of nerves and you moan.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he says. “I don’t think you’re going to last very long if I keep doing this.”

You whimper something that might have been words at one point, but disintegrated into an unintelligible mess of vowels and consonants somewhere between your brain and your mouth.

“In fact,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, “maybe you’re going to be a very, very good girl and come more than once on my cock.”

You whimper, your hips rolling with his. The combination of his fingers on your clit and his cock inside of you is driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” he rasps. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You can feel your orgasm building, that coil in your hips winding tighter and tighter. You nod.

“Look at me and tell me what you want,” he says.

“I—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I want to come.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“I want to come on your cock.”

“Still not quite right.”

Something like a combination of a laugh and a whine falls from your lips. “James—”

“I want to hear you say it, love. All of it.”

“Fuck—” You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge.

“Tell me.”

“I want—” You shudder against your impending release. “I want…I want to be a good girl—and come on your cock.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Now come for me.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that he made you say it out loud or because he told you to come or if it’s just a very well timed coincidence. Either way, your back is suddenly arching and your cunt is clamping down hard on his cock as you careen into an orgasm that makes your whole body tremble.

But as good as it feels, you can’t help but be captivated by Conrad—the way he slows his pace, the sound he makes. You can tell he’s struggling to stay in control and the fact that a man noted for his cool head and ruthless calm is struggling to keep his composure because of how you are making him feel is somewhere beyond incredible.

He pauses for a moment, seemingly to collect himself. He looks at you as you tremble through the aftershocks, drinking you in like he can’t quite believe the wonder of what he’s seeing.

“You’re heavenly,” he says softly.

You reach for him and he leans down to kiss you, his hips still moving at that agonizingly slow pace.

“I think it’s your turn, though,” you murmur against his lips.

He draws back and that intense, hungry look is back. “My turn?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not tell me you were going to be a good girl for me?”

“I just came on your cock,” you say. “Wasn’t that the agreement?”

“I believe I said that if you were very good, you would come more than once.” He accompanies this with a sharp thrust of his hips as he lowers his lips to your ear. “And I know you want to be very good.”

Your breath is already hitching, your back arching as your legs lock around his waist. “Fuck.”

His voice has dropped again to that low growl. “Do you know how utterly incredible you feel when you come?”

His fingers are back at your clit and you whine.

“It took every ounce of my strength not to spill myself inside you the moment your sweet cunt started trembling around me.” His breath is hot on your ear and you can’t help the way that your muscles clench around him.

He groans low in your ear. “Fuck. Yes. Like that.”

His pace is still so slow and steady and that almost makes the buildup more unbearable. You don’t understand how you’re already so close, but you can feel the tide of your orgasm rising once again.

“Oh god,” you moan.

“I can feel how close you are,” he growls. “And I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

“Come for me,” you say, your voice rough with desperation.

“You first,” he says. “Then I’ll make you mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” you choke out before your voice cuts off with a cry as your orgasm starts to crest. It’s just as intense as your last one—the edges of your vision go white and fuzzy and you let out a primal moan.

Conrad’s pace increases as he fucks you through it, his mouth open in a soundless gasp.

“James,” you whimper.

He lets out a low moan seconds before you feel the warmth of his release inside you.

He leans down to kiss you and it’s as though you’re both moving through molasses—every touch, every sound feels slow and sweet. He finally lets his head drop to your shoulder when his hips still. He exhales slowly, the heat of his breath warming your shoulder.

“We should have been doing this for years,” he says after a moment.

“I mean, there was a reason why I called you a fucking idiot earlier.”

He lifts his head to look at you and he’s failing to hide his smile. “I suppose that’s difficult to dispute.”

You press a kiss against his forehead. “You can keep earning my forgiveness. I certainly enjoyed this first attempt.”

“Mmm, I have several other ideas.” He kisses you softly and slowly before slowly pulling away. “But let’s get cleaned up.”

He makes you stay in bed while he fetches a wet washcloth from your bathroom and carefully cleans you up. It’s sweet and intimate in a way you don’t expect—no one’s ever done this for you before.

He returns to bed and you curl up together, your cheek resting on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder.

You’re quiet for a bit, mulling the question that sits on the tip of your tongue like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall and smash your easy peace to bits.

“What is it?” asks Conrad before you can summon the courage.

“Hmm?” you say, though you’re pretty sure he’s going to see through your lie.

“You’ve got something on your mind.”

You pause, wetting your lips. “How long are you in town?”

His grip on you tightens, like he understands. “For now, as long as you want me to be.”

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. He strokes your cheek.

“I’ll have another job eventually,” he says. “But not quite yet.”

“Okay,” you say.

He’s quiet for a moment. “This part of it…it’s not going to be easy.”

You hear the unspoken part of this—he’s giving you a chance to back out, to call this a one off, to keep yourself safe.

“Once again, I never said I wanted easy,” you say. “I just want you.”

He draws you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of you head. “You have me, my love,” he murmurs. “I’ve always been yours.”

#james conrad smut #james conrad x reader smut #james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad x female reader smut #james conrad x reader fanfic #james conrad x yn smut #james conrad x yn #james conrad x you smut

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alexdelray1 · 5 months

Note

could i get taigen or mizu dating headcannons ? if thats okay ofc :3

You wanted one, you get two.

Mizu dating headcannons and Taigen dating headcannons.

Mizu.

Our warrior was secretive at first and didn't want you to be so close to her. It's weird because at the same time she wanted to kiss you and never let you go.

Mizu only opened up after seeing your dedication and love for her. In two senses. Take it however you want.

She told you about how (SPOILER!) she once had a husband from an arranged marriage and it didn't work out the best for them.

Her 'mother' or he turned her in and she killed the two of them. Because of this, he now has trust issues. She was afraid that you would cheat on her too, but you never gave her a reason to think so.

Ringo was surprised at first by your relationship. Why, a boor like Mizu and you? Strange, but he had nothing to do with it. The more companions, the merrier!

Taigen even tried to convince you to break up with her and offered to help you because he thought Mizu was blackmailing you into going out with her.

After a few months, you started joking that in some village she would pretend to be a man, as usual, and you would get married.

The only thing you didn't know was that Mizu was actually thinking about it.

"You'll be my girl."

Taigen.

He was clowning as always. After you became his girlfriend (dk. I got used to the fact that only girls read my one shots) he tried to impress you even more so that you would never think about another man.

He took you with him to assist him in his mission to kill Mizu and regain his honor because not only were you useful, but also a cure for loneliness. And a boner.

During the trip, you had a lot of time for each other and became even closer. His ugly face didn't bother you as much anymore since Mizu gave him a new hairstyle. ( ;

Mizu advised you to break up with him because he's average at fighting and he was 100% cheating on you with hookers before the fight with Mizu.

You talked about this and, to be honest, Taigen was reprimanded for it in the shape of a lump on his head.

Somehow and many near death experiences he won your heart again with a 10000000 year old whore ban.

"I screwed up, but can I have a second chance? FUCK YOU MIZU!"

#x reader #fem reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #taigen #blue eye samurai #mizu

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sotwk · 11 months

Text

Taken (Eomer x femReader )

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 / Part 3

Love Confession feat. Eomer Eadig

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: The lone shield-maiden in Eomer's Éored has been secretly in love with him for years, but has long accepted that that he can never share those feelings. At the feast of King Elessar's coronation, she is surprised to learn that there may yet be hope.

Prompt: "It's like you never really see me. I'm standing right in front of you and you don't see me!"

Requested by and Dedicated to: @writefortherain-blog Thank you for making this request and giving me the opportunity to write for Eomer!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: Romance, angst, mutual pining, oblivious to love, jealousy, forbidden relationship, class division, shield-maiden, King Eomer, post-RotK

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Some sensuality

To Read on AO3: Link

Taken

Third Age 3019 May 1

Minas Tirith

PART ONE

Downing that fourth cup of wine had been a mistake. Or was it the fifth? Sixth? The ridiculous dress with its rib-crushing bodice and neckline positioned nowhere near your neck, had also been a mistake, even though the local clother had insisted to you that it was in the "proper" Gondorian fashion. The entire evening and its inconveniences had all been for a failed end.

You finally jostled your way out of the packed feasting hall and stumbled outside to the courtyard, your compressed lungs and flushed skin rejoicing at their contact with the cool night air. One hand rose to massage your throbbing temple, and the other clawed irritatedly at the boning that caged in your unacceptably unfeminine frame.

"Never again," you seethed under your breath, as you crossed the white-stone pavement to move even farther away from the chaos you escaped.

It had been a painful decision to ride out to Minas Tirith with the rest of your Éored and attend the coronation of the returned King of Gondor. You despised grand affairs, knowing well enough the requirements rules of court would impose on you, unwieldy formal attire being just one of them. These were at least tolerable within Rohan, where you could find some comfort amongst familiar faces and settings. But as the lone female who rode in the company of the Third Marshal, you refused to be excluded from any undertaking by your Éored, however dangerous or unpleasant. Whether it broke your arm or shattered your heart.

"I can just go," you thought, casting a quick glance back at the great hall, alive and alight with the merry cacophony of a thousand revelers that would surely last until dawn. The two hours you already spent mingling to the best of your limited ability had to suffice, and it was doubtful your presence would even be missed.

But the call of a deep voice stalled your retreat, loud and commanding and instantly recognizable even across a distance as it shouted your name. The soldier in you succumbed to the instinct to obey your Marshal, to honor the oath you had sworn on your knees years ago.

The flickering flames of nearby torchlights reflected against the carved silver panels of the breastplate he donned over his lavishly embroidered tunic. Famously handsome even when caked in blood and grime, Eomer was breathtakingly resplendent bearing the regalia that befitted his station. King Eomer now, you reminded yourself, as you dipped your head in a bow.

“My lord.”

“Is something amiss? Why did you leave?” His narrowed eyes upon you were penetrating, his tone demanding rather than concerned. Lying to someone you had spent practically every single day of your adult life with was difficult, and even more so with an addled brain, so you knew you had to mince words carefully.

Fortunately, you had years of practice doing exactly that.

“I underestimated the potency of their vintage, and downed one cup too many.” You scrunched up your features in a grimace that just slightly exaggerated your pain. “I thought it best to excuse myself and retire for the night.”

“Perhaps if you rested a while and ate some food…” He rested a hand lightly on your shoulder. “It is much too early and the quarters would still be empty. I know you detest fraternizing, but just sit at the table with the rest of our men.”

You released a graceless guffaw and a puff of wine-tinged breath. “Half of them are already deeper in their cups than I, and getting sloppier by the second. I finally had to remind Héothain of his manners the second time he tried to sneak a hand down the front of my dress.”

“He did what?” Eomer’s sudden growl awakened you to your own carelessness and slip of the tongue. Smooth-cheeked Héothain was the youngest and newest addition to the Éored, and remained sorely lacking in experience with women. He should not be held accountable for his awkwardness amplified by insobriety.

“It was a silly mistake that caused no harm,” you insisted, pulling back as Eomer attempted to lead you off by the elbow. “Two sprained fingers taught him a lesson he shall not soon forget.”

Eomer glowered at you but remained silent for a pause, as he did whenever running through courses of action in his mind. “Then you can come sit by me at the King’s table.”

Your laugh in response to that suggestion was shrill and nervous, as he looked so serious making it. “I most certainly cannot… my lord.” You stated your defiance firmly, baring a toothless pertinacity against your leader, and underneath it a silent plea that the friend in him would understand. “There is no place for me amongst such esteemed company and truly, there is nothing in the world I would enjoy less at this moment.”

You sighed and braced one hand below your rib area, massaging a spot where the corset dug into a still-tender battle injury.

“Please. Let me go back to my room where I can be rid of these dreadful garments.”

“No.” The immediacy and sharpness of his refusal made you blink in surprise. “Not until you explain yourself to my satisfaction.”

“Pardon, my lord?”

“Hah, there! That is what I am speaking of.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand--”

“When did you cease to call me by my name in private conversation? Or last bother to converse with me at all?!” You took too long to answer, and he barreled on, hazel eyes flashing with the sudden rise of agitation. “Let me enlighten you, since I recall it well. It began after Theodred’s death, accompanied by a host of other changes in your behavior towards me that you think I have not noticed!”

You scrambled to concoct a rebuttal, another feint to keep him from uncovering your secrets. Alas, your dulled mind had frozen completely in the face of the horse-lord’s fury, which had never been directed at you in such a manner.

“You are misreading things, my lord, or else imagining them. I cannot say that I--”

“You cannot even look me in the eye these days of late!” Eomer snapped. “Nor can you stand to be in any room I am in for long.” He threw out his arm in the direction of the great hall. “Even now you rebuff any attempt I make to spend time with you.”

“I…I…” You stammered, rendered helpless before his unexpected wrath, cursing yourself for the poor timing of your inebriation. How could you put up your shields when your mind was struggling to pick out your own lies from the truth?

“If you are angry with me, I would have you admit to it now. I will no longer be played for a fool.”

Indignation pooled in your gut, crawling upward until it deepened the coloring of your already flushed face. “I confess to nothing! For what cause do I have to be angry?”

“Because you loved him!” Eomer erupted. As you gaped at his outburst, he gripped a fistful of his hair, and took in one sharp breath, steeling himself. “You loved Theodred,” he finally said, in a voice gone cold and quiet. “And you place blame on me for his death.”

The fire in your belly flared at the terrible accusation. “Theodred was murdered by Saruman, and only a traitor would fault you for that vile cur’s deed.” You shook a finger at him emphatically. “I am no traitor.”

“Did you love my cousin?”

“Of course I did,” you said stoutly. The prince’s demise plagued you still, for you had been the one to spot Theodred’s body amongst the corpses that littered the fords. And after he’d been borne away to Meduseld, you never saw him alive again, and all you could do was weep in the privacy of your quarters, which you did for weeks, mourning the loss of so much more than a dear friend and mentor.

“No one has ever shown me greater kindness than Theodred.” You held a hand over your heart as a different ache rose in you. “He believed in me at a time when no one else would, not even you."

Eomer had fallen silent, but you saw his cloaked shoulders rise and fall, broad chest heaving in the manner so familiar to you. It was the way he looked on the battlefield, where his blood ran hottest, and he was fighting to balance out the genteel lord and savage killer that both resided within him. He was so thoroughly upset with you.

“If I have made you feel like your cousin’s fate was in any way your fault, I am truly sorry,” you said. "But what sort of questions are these, and why are you asking them now?"

His gaze flicked back in your direction, leaden with anguish. "You should know why."

“I am telling you I do not, my lord, and I must beg you to explain why you are speaking so cryptically."

“You wish for me to explain in words something I have been trying to show you for years now?!” He gave a strangled laugh and raised his eyes and hands to the night sky. "Bema…"

“It is as though you never really see me,” he muttered, almost as though speaking to himself. “Here I am, standing right in front of you, and you do not see me!"

But you did hear his mumbled complaints, and suddenly it was all too much. Your sickening weariness, your aches both physical and emotional, your befuddlement caused by the six drinks and this man's unhinged raging as he launched yet another ludicrous accusation at you.

"Not see you?" you repeated, and something about just saying it rammed open the gate behind which you had caged up every real thing you ever wanted to say to Eomer, Son of Eomund.

"If such a thing were possible, I would wish it upon myself immediately!" you exclaimed. "But you are all I ever see, even when I do not wish to! Even when I flee from your presence, I can never escape a face that refuses to leave my thoughts!"

Oh Valar, no. STOP. Panicked, you bit down on your lip to imprison the words fleeing your mouth, so hard you tasted blood. But Eomer suddenly moved forward, encroaching on the space you desperately fought to maintain for your own protection, and his hazel eyes locked into yours to wrench away the last of your defenses.

"It hurts too much, can you not understand?!" you cried, managing one step back. "To remain in the presence of the one thing you most desire but will never have, to be taunted by a dream that will never be fulfilled, to watch as it falls into the possession of another while you can do absolutely nothing!"

He spoke your name, his voice oddly hoarse, and shame finally came crashing down inside you. Your hands flew up to hide your face and suddenly he grabbed your wrists, tugging your arms away only to replace your hands with his own, warming your cheeks with his calloused palms.

“Then see me now,” he ordered. “And know I have always understood how that feels. What great fools we have both been all along to deny ourselves our true desires.”

“Eomer, what--” The stroke of his thumb over the corner of your mouth drove the rest of the words away, and the parting of your lips and flutter of your eyes gave him the approval he sought.

His kiss tasted more glorious than they did in a thousand daydreams combined. It did not surprise you that he was completely unlike the other men you had kissed before. Whereas lesser men were greedy and sloppy in their hunger, the caress of Eomer’s mouth was deep and languid, almost worshipful in its exploration of your lips, as though he aimed to savor every small sensation and intended to carry on doing this with you forever.

His one arm looped around your waist to hold you covetously against him; his broad left hand traveled from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, his long fingers burying themselves into your hair, tips grazing your scalp. It fired up a new heat in you that you had never felt before, not with such raw intensity, and a tremulous whimper escaped your throat.

But the sound of your own pleasure was your undoing, for it triggered an alarm in your head, one that caused you to break away from Eomer’s passion. You mumbled against his lips the words you had conditioned yourself for years to think around him.

“My lord, I cannot…”

He paused, his eyes still dazed and unfocused, caught in a state of bliss--one that you caused, you realized with a shiver. “You cannot… what?” he said thickly. Without waiting for an answer, he dipped back in eagerly to trail his mouth up your jawline, his tongue skimming the tender pulse underneath your ear.

You gave a small cry and pushed against his chest with more force, immediately waking his attention. His arm around your waist remained stubbornly secure however, and it took you physically prying the powerful limb off for you to slip free. Either due to shock or lingering delirium, Eomer did not resist.

“I cannot…” Your voice broke even as you clung to your resolve. “I cannot have you.”

His heavy brows furrowed. “What?” Within seconds the confusion lifted to uncover his dismay, layered with anger. “You would speak lies and nonsense again, after everything I told you?”

“It is the truth, Eomer!” You started backing away already, stepping faster and faster as he began to move and reach out for you. “You can never be anything more than a dream to someone like me. I cannot have what is already taken.”

“Taken? What--wait! No!” He started to run, but you had already turned heel and were sprinting full-speed towards the Citadel Gate. You had always been faster on your feet; there was no hope of him catching up if you refused to heed his orders. “Stop!”

His shouts of your name faded quickly, drowned out by the noise of the milling crowd you plunged into and the thunder of your own frantic heartbeat. You slowed to a walk but kept a quick pace, weaving haphazardly through the throng and on and on until you’d descended at least two levels. Only then did you duck into a side street and survey your surroundings.

Your escape succeeded. Neither Eomer nor any Rohirrim were anywhere to be found, at least for the moment.

You collapsed upon the nearest doorstep, exhaustion and aches finally overcoming you. As the chaotic whirlwind within you settled, so too did the reality of what just occurred sink in.

Eomer desired you, perhaps even loved you as you did him. But the King of Rohan’s love was not for you, a common soldier, to take. You had known that all along, and he did too. It was unkind of him to give you such false hope.

Raising your fingers to your swollen lips, you felt the ghost of his perfect kisses on them, and finally burst into tears over yet another memory that will grieve you until your trampled heart could bear no more.

To be continued...

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#sotwk fanfiction #eomer #eomer x reader #eomer fanfiction #rohan #lotr #eomer x you #valentine event 2023 #follower request

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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

Text

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.”

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something.

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.”

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face.

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second.

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips.

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat.

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?”

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside.

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.”

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?”

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.”

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.”

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?”

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth.

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.”

“Why? Because you already are?”

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose.

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor.

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs.

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother.

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why.

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance.

“Who died and made you king?”

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.”

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.”

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved.

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.”

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out.

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.”

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas.

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.”

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend.

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth.

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.”

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely.

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?”

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass.

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite.

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.”

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.”

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood.

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back.

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.”

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.”

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.”

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten.

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump.

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another.

At least this one’s easy on the eyes.

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Remember You

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’ve thought about it a little and I don’t think this adds anything to the story—it really just feels like a trashy filler episode.

word count: 4,173

-Part 14-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to open a book near dusk then pull out of your mental wandering after dark, frequently falling so deep into immersion, so consistently dragged under by lonely curiosity that time itself seems to slip through your soft, tender fingers. A shadow twirls a lock of hair about, a gentle approach so you know he’s there.

Even when his steps don’t subconsciously take on that soundless whisper, it was too often you’d startle at the sound of his voice, almost strangely so, spun around looking slightly flustered. Azriel had always assumed it a side effect of being stolen from your home all that time ago, being thrown about in the ocean of your life, only now beginning to settle back into relative calm.

You turn now, meeting his soft hazel eyes, shadowed by lovely lashes and defined by a strong brow. A mouth that appears so soft your heart aches at the faintly curved edges, appearing so warm and inviting. The steady certainty about the way he moves, so calmly assured of each step, unrushed but quietly determined, driven forward relentlessly by his unfaltering loyalty, the dedication to helping those under his brother’s rule.

A smile pulls your mouth apart, surely gleaming in your eyes, warming your cheeks as you meet his gaze. “What a surprise to see you here,” you say, closing the book silently, balancing the thick and heavy edge on your hip, the leather of its wrapping weighing comfortably into your waist. “Looking for something?”

He smiles, pushing off from the bookcase he’d been leaning against, dark hair flopping over his brow, as soft as silk and looking as warm as fur. How lovely it would be to run your fingers through, gently playing with it like how you would do when you were younger, sat before an open fire in a wobbly line, crafting intricate patterns with your sisters.

“I’ve found it now,” he replies, amusement written clearly across his features, more open than usual, your pulse increasing. His eyes drop away from yours, landing on the book at your hip, nodding to it with a faint smile. “What have you gotten your hands on this time?”

You reciprocate the expression with a little more enthusiasm, almost beaming as you shift the volume to present the cover to him. “It was tucked near the back here,” you explain, eyes darting to the shelf you’d been stood before. “It looked a little forgotten so I had to move some of the others around to get to it. It’s a book on botany, and the different plants that can be found throughout the courts. It’s amazing how such a range can be contained to such a small land mass given the shift in climates.”

His eyes twinkle, and your heart flutters in response, smile broadening a little. “Were there many books in your first home, or did your curiosity come from seeing your father’s study?” He asks, watching you calmly, gaze skating over the beautifully crafted cover of the book appreciatively. “There weren’t as many as there are here, but there were a few I could get my hands on,” you answer honestly. “Elain and I used to flip through the pages to look at the illustrations when we were younger, though they were mostly done in ink so only black and white. Sometimes when we found ones with colour in—there were some wonderful ones. I mean, really so full of colour and shimmery paints they really looked from another world—but we would fold the corners over at the top to show to Feyre later. Then sometimes they’d have diagrams with names underneath that we didn’t yet know how to pronounce, so would fold the corners over at the bottom to ask Nesta later since our mother wouldn’t want to be disturbed. Then later because she wasn’t there.” You come to a stop, lips drawing themselves into a thin line.

“Do you miss her?” He asks quietly, those shadows of his rolling like mist from his back, weighing to the floor to cover the boards in an inky black fog. “I…it’s complicated,” you answer, head dipping as you pull the volume back to your torso, as if it will act as a shield against the complex emotions you have no idea how to articulate. “You have plenty of time to figure it out—should you wish to,” he says gently, and you peer up at him, heart fluttering at the warmth in his eyes. The faint softening at the edges of his wonderful mouth.

You remember to respond, dipping your head in a subdued nod. Tongue swiping over your lips. “Is your…I mean, your mother…?” He blinks those lovely hazel eyes, so filled with swirling colour, and you inwardly cringe, seeing how he shifts to stand more upright, posture more rigid. That sweet curve of his mouth replaced by a polite smile, one he probably knows he should give to keep anyone from feeling bad. “Alive, yes,” he answers, his tone not inviting anymore questions, without being clipped.

Lips pursing into an awkward line, your gaze drops down to the book, to your feet, nodding in confirmation. “I…I’m happy for you,” you say quietly, hoping it’s the right thing and she isn’t a terrible woman. Female. That would be quite awful, if she turned out to be.

Azriel hums lowly, and your throat rolls, toes curling a bit in your shoes. You inhale, managing to look in his vague direction, “how was your day?” It comes out much more muted than you had intended, heat spreading throughout your features as you again dip your head, felled with embarrassment. A moment of silence passes, and you feel like you might crumble into a heap of sand, simply disintegrate right then and there.

But, “good,” he answers, chuckling lowly.

Peeking up nervously, you can make out the slight twinkle in his eyes, the relaxed softness to his mouth, and relief washes through you, crushing and sweeping in its intensity. “Training’s going well,” he continues unprompted, and you perk up more, shifting on your feet, attempting to straighten out your shoulders. “It’s becoming a nice, well-rounded group. Nesta seems to be doing well, too. They all are.”

You manage a smile, drinking in every word, basking in the richness of his voice, imbued with a tinge of royal blue emotion. “Sounds like you’re having fun,” you say, trying to match the mirth of his intonation, how genuine it sounds. You don’t really succeed. “Between the strain of practice and learning, I think they do,” he answers, still smiling faintly, and you pause to take a moment to try and capture what’s different about his features when he’s smiling. The curve beneath his eyes, how his cheeks round a little, the way his lips stretch out and curve. Something about his ears raising a little higher, too.

“Have you ever considered joining?” He asks tentatively, and you freeze up.

“Training?” You manage, forcing down the splutter, cowering at the thought. His features level out, but his eyes remain amused as he nods. “No. I don’t think… It’s not for me,” you stumble through the answer, looking away. Then heat warms your cheeks, embarrassment heating across your chest, meeting his gaze. “Should I be?” You ask, quieter than before, stomach tensing as you pull the book closer to your front.

He shrugs, “only if you’d like to. You might find it enjoyable.”

You manage a tight smile, not knowing what to say without sounding rude, so choosing silence.

“Nesta…she has friends there,” Azriel says hesitantly, and you can feel his gaze on you. “They enjoy reading, too. Maybe it would be good for you to go. Exciting.”

“Really?” You ask, managing to meet his gaze, shifting on your feet as you grip the book tighter. “What sort of things—do you know?”

“I could find out,” he offers, the edges of his irises softer.

But you shake your head, “it’s fine. I’m— I’m happy. Where I am, I mean. As I am.” You dip your head slightly at the awkwardness. Should you be saying something like that with pride? There isn’t much to be proud of. Hardly anything you can say for yourself.

It’s a bit worthless, if you’re honest, to only have that to cling to.

“You are?” He asks, gently.

Your stomach drops through your toes, heart plummeting deeper than the depths of the ocean’s floor. Shifting on your feet. Even he can tell… But you nod, head dipping further as you peer at the ground, heart straining for some reason. “Besides, I love getting to read the things in here,” you manage, clutching the volume a little tighter. “And, I’m not sure Nesta…her friends would be interested in reading encyclopaedias.”

“You don’t know until you try,” he says quietly, matching your level of volume. “Wouldn’t it be nice having more people to talk to about the things you like?”

You shift again on your feet, readjusting your grip on the bound book. “Maybe? I guess…”

“So why not try?” He asks, able to hear the slight smile in his voice, and you want so desperately to look at him. “Just one lesson, or even a few minutes to see what it’s like. The first step is usually the hardest.”

“I don’t know…” you hedge, discomfort lodging itself in your throat; between your ribs. “What are you unsure about?” He asks, leaning up against the bookshelves. You shrug, not meeting his gaze. “I guess…I don’t see the point in it,” you answer reluctantly, quietly. Knowing he won’t like that response.

Sure enough, you can hear the frown in his voice, disapproval sharpening into something bladed, disappointment in your lack of enthusiasm. “You should still try,” he says gently, wings shifting at his back, refolding themselves. But you shake your head, more firmly this time, “I don’t want to intrude. That’s her space that she’s made. I don’t want to contaminate it.”

“You wouldn’t be contaminating it,” he sighs, arms folding casually over his broad chest, and you feel like he’s telling you off for something.

Slightly desperately, you aim to switch topic to something he’ll be willing to move on to. You don’t doubt he could keep you here if he wanted, simply returning to the original topic of conversation, so you have to be careful with your new selection.

“Have you asked Elain if she would join?” You ask, not meeting his gaze.

You feel his pause, heart beating a little harder in the hopes he’ll go along with it. The irony of you being the one to bring her up isn’t lost on you—after you’ve wanted a conversation free of her for some time now. So it’s just the two of you, even for one discussion.

“Elain?” He asks, bemusedly, and you nod. “Do you think she’d be interested?”

“You thought I might be. Why not her?” You reply, wincing at your tone. Shifting again on your feet. But instead of tense silence, he chuckles faintly. “I understand the two of you are sisters, but you’re very different from one another.”

Your eyes close briefly, allowing no more than a moment for the condemnation to sink through you.

You’re nothing like Elain, and he can see that clear as day.

So you smile faintly, trying to bring some life into it. “Just a thought.”

———

It had felt like being tossed to the grimy, half-rotten wooden boards of the old hut in there.

They hadn’t bothered with chains—you were human, what could you do against them?

Strange, magic, powerful creatures, hewn from nature herself. Like gazing upon perfect marble sculptures and wishing for their cold grace, sacrificing flesh and blood for stone-cold immortality.

It’s strange how distorting panic can be. How acutely aware of the smallest hairs rising on mostly bare legs, yet forgetting the faces of the fae who’d thrown you into the deep dark of the cell. Warm bodies pressing tight to one another in the dim light of the stone cell, trembling hands gripping one another, grown out nails inadvertently scraping. Shaky breaths misting in the damp, winter deep air.

Few words had been traded in the perpetual night, a cold, spindly hand passing meals into the room through some method of magic. It had been good. Cold and plain yet disgustingly pleasant.

The first time Feyre had returned from Prythian and eaten human food she had gagged, it was unforgettable seeing how she’d changed. Such a small moment with such vast implications. Having then sampled the food, likely the worst of the worst of their own pallet, you could understand the insufficiency.

It doesn’t matter now though. Not now you’re trapped, locked away from the light.

Unknown time passes, and you never hear them coming. Like the night you’d been removed, they come on silent feet, utterly predatory and entirely invincible.

He’d appeared then, sat on a throne constructed of what you think vaguely reminds you human remains—long, stretching bones bound together to be sat upon, forced to serve long after death, condemned to relentless work, never to be lain to rest. The King you’ve been warned about.

At your side Nesta stiffens, observing something you can’t, struggling to remain alert after the numbing darkness of the cell. The strange isolation that had been enforced upon you despite company.

Even to human senses, the smell of blood is apparent, stark and piercing in the barren throne room. Though everything is secondary to the dooming thrum of pressure coming from the dais. Even the lives around you fade into something lesser when confronted with the concentration of Everything before you—a culmination of everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will across the four-dimensional planes, universes stretching and thinned, brought together before the Cauldron that sits, hunched on the stone floor. Watching. Observing. Waiting.

Words jumble from the king’s mouth, but you doubt even Nesta is entirely listening, not with the white-knuckled grip she has on you and Elain, pulled taut together, bound tighter than you’ve ever been before, a refusal to release one another. Even as numbing pain sets in, you don’t try to escape, each of you understanding the aches of the grip are small safeties, reminders you still exist with one another.

Grey-blue eyes catch yours across the hall, wide and fearful as they gaze upon the three of you. The youngest, yet the strongest. The strongest of your sisters, yet maybe the weakest in the room beyond yourselves. The power imbalance so stark the world tilts a little, as if nodding its head sadly in agreement.

Awareness is dunked over you like taking an icy bath, coming to in time to hear the damning words that have your heart jittering in your chest. Lurching and fumbling with fear.

“Who is the youngest, over there?”

And like a moth drawn to flame, your terrified eyes lock with his, singled out as a knowing smile tilts the King’s lips. “You.”

It’s a new terror, you understand. Being noticed by a being so incomprehensibly greater. How to rationalise and understand the fear in the fleeting seconds that tick faster and faster with each blink of your eyes. How time falls flat, and eventually pulls apart as a guard’s hand rips you clean from your sisters, a snarl of rage only adding to the ringing buzz that glistens though your ears, feet fumbling numbly over the cobbles, cracked and jagged in places.

The world fades in and out of focus as ice prickles from beneath your skin, at once hot and at once freezing the skin from your flesh, so cold it will start peeling back at any second, shedding until you disintegrate onto the floor. You’re helpless as you’re pushed onto the dais, far too close to the prowling beast of the Cauldron to ever come away. Even if they released you, the understanding is clear to you it would not allow the escape.

Noises break through the lilting haze of your world, vision clearing enough to pick out the wide, hellish eyes of your oldest sister, the conflict of terror and undeniable rage that blazes away in full view, and you wonder how she can sustain it. How she can muster up an emotion so overpowering your attention is pulled away from the Cauldron. From the King, and Queens.

Her teeth gleam in a snarl directed to the male atop the throne, and you wish for even an ember to take root in your soul. The inadequacies of your own self rising to the surface like bodies buried in muddy land.

“Put her in.”

Every muscle strings taut in your body, jaw nearly breaking itself from pressure, nearly vomiting the food you’d been given from squeezing your stomach in, every part of your being inherently recoiling from the eerily calm pool of black water before you, so still it looks like glass, contained in metal that reeks of something that should not be touched. Even borne witness to.

You’re lofted into the air, unable to so much as kick, terror taking control of your body, feeling as though you’re freshly dead, held stiff by catatonic shock while breath still whispers from your lips. Screams are choked back by the tightness in your throat, lungs burning with cries that would surely curdle blood, piercing shrieks that might at least serve to deafen their keen hearing.

But their large, spindly hands release you, and you slide into the yawning mouth. Gaping, and grinning.

Ice-cold water shocks your system, and you sink like a stone into the liquid. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

Dropping through the barriers of the realm. Falling off the edge of the world.

You drop further than possible, and nightmares resurface. Of rivers that swell and break their banks, flooding wetlands and tearing livestock from their home in the torrents of the winter melt. Rain lashing down day after day, heart pounding in your chest, hoping the rising water will never reach the already shaky beams of your rotting hut. In those night terrors there’s no escaping the rising tides, the currents gripping your ankles as you’re snatched from your feet, dragged away and under, swallowed whole and torn from your family in the blink of an eye.

Liquid like mercury surrounds you whole, submerged in the quicksilver of the Cauldron’s contents, dredging up long forgotten memories as though your life is passing before your eyes. Laying on the floor of your father’s study, flipping through books on food, plants, fauna and flora. There had been one nightmarish creature that had always stuck with you, lurking in the depths of your mind no matter what comforts Elain had provided, nor the goofy drawings Feyre had done in attempts to reduce the terror, nor the reasoning that such a small creature whose home was the deepest, murkiest parts of the sea would ever be able to find you.

And yet the Cauldron seems to seek it out specifically, conjuring the memory of the slimy pale blue paint that had been used, the ink that sharpened razor like teeth, the small spot of white on the page that illuminated the fish’s grotesque features.

Like an angler fish, you can’t help but feel now, sunken so far below, sucked in a whirlpool to the bottom of the Cauldron, that its icy surface had been the light, the power rolling from its dark metal the warm glow, and you’d been thrown toward it.

Now past the shredding ring of teeth, cast into its stomach.

The inky water pushes at your lips, squirming at your squeezed-shut eyes, wriggling like icy maggots trying to crawl beneath your skin, to worm their way inside and infest. It seems impossible to hold them out—everything had come from the Cauldron, how were you supposed to barricade yourself against that which you’d been born of?

You pull as tight as you can, wrapping in on yourself as blood recoils from your extremities, all you can salvage of yourself pulling taut and compact, stitched closer than rock, squeezed denser than ice that’s had centuries to compress. Air has long since lost its value among your turned around preservation instincts. Air is a pathway in, and you fear its intrusion with a conviction that spears deeper than any fear of death.

But the Cauldron is a prime creator, second you suppose only to the Mother, and has no concern for time.

No matter how long you keep it out for, minutes, hours, days, years, time is endless and stretching, a new metric confined to the swirling depths of horror contained within its malice-imbued metal. No matter how long you keep yourself walled off, hibernating deep within the parts of yourself you hadn’t even known existed, it waits just outside, prowling, circling, slowly squeezing and constricting. Until like even ice, or rock, you’ll split open. Pressure so steep it could cleave universes.

Even after the walls you’ve hidden behind, the only things keeping out the idle swirl of pure, liquid power, it’s not enough. Everything will fall to time, eroded and grated down to dust beneath the relentless drip of ticking seconds.

Your mind feels too numb to register as it creeps in, cold and deadening as it spreads calmly throughout your blood, filling you up from the inside out, infusing into your skin—numbed from slumber. Creeping and contaminating with cold, needle slim fingers, rearranging and knitting pieces together than should not be joined within a mortal.

It holds you with a familiarity that’s at once startling and reassuring, a puppet returned to the puppeteer, a dress returned to the seamstress, a splintered leg returned to the carpenter. All of them at once, without the care of a mother for her child. Cold and analytical, examining its past creation, exploring its functions with harsh fingers. Peeling back your skin, then your flesh, then your skull, retrieving the centre of your thoughts to discover your foundations.

Wishes and desires, tucked away secrets even you’ve forgotten, passing thoughts unworthy of being voiced, wants that deserved to be spoken but tied down by your tongue. Its ladle scoops you out, hollowing your mind and stomach, dipping a spoon into soup to retrieve a mouthful, except this space will be replaced with something else. Something to push the bounds of humanity and transform you into the sharp-featured creatures who had taken what scraps of your world had remained.

Something with the tremendous strike of lightening but worse fills the empty pockets it’s made. Capable of burning like the blazing rage contained within quicksilver eyes. Something slower. More insidious. You aren’t made for brute force, so a more subtle route will have to be afforded.

Like it had selected the nightmarish memories, so does it haul up the secret wishes. The wants so desperate they have heat kicking back against the icy touch of the Cauldron’s waters. To blaze like Nesta, to protect like Feyre, to soothe like Elain. But more.

A use.

If not a warrior, then a blade to be harnessed.

The Cauldron plucks the desire from your bones, and your body slumps. Skin without its stuffing, a heart without its thump. You could swear you feel it smile as it finds what it’s looking for, now conjuring up its match. The piece to fill the void it’s created by removing the wish, replaced with something sturdier, to lift your body to immortality.

With each possibility the prices rise steeper, and yet you no longer recoil.

The craving to have something—something entirely new, something entirely your own taking control of your mind and soul, driving you forward. How deeply you yearn to be someone with possessions that are your own. Not passed down, nor borrowed or shared, but your own. Something only you can have.

The desire is so acute you feel salty wetness push out from beneath closed eyelids.

To be sought after. Craved. Pursued.

Valued, treasured, fought for.

To have something that made you become both desired and capable of protection.

The cost would always be irrelevant for an offer like that.

Down to your roots, clipped at the foundations, an entirely human desire to be wanted. At whatever price, the yearning so innate and so acute your heart aches within the cage of your ribs. It runs deeper than a want, or a wish, or a need. So inherent to your ideal that now you’ve discovered its existence, returning without it would be a new death with every second, every breath drawn taking you further apart from the moment your could’ve had it.

The Cauldron smiles, dangling it before you, quietly hiding away what it’s already taken, not giving you a chance to consider what you will lose.

And with a still human heart, your soft, trembling fingers pluck the glowing green star from the inky darkness. Fooled by inexperience.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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enkas-illusion · 4 months

Text

(Not) Just Another Crush - Part 2/2

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff (for starters), smut (main course), piv sex, protected sex, oral (f.receiving), various positions, overstimulation, squirting, dom!Eren, sub!reader, porn with a lot of plot basically, language.

Chapter Summary: First date with Eren and everything that unfolds after ;)

Author’s Note: Hello, this could’ve been divided into two chapters but I was way too eager to publish it all together lol. Also, I try using y/n as little as I possibly can since I’m aware it often pulls a lot of readers out of the experience slightly, but in some sentences it just can’t be helped so bear with me! :P

Song Dedication: House Of Cards by Radiohead / Erode by TENDER

Part 1 | Part 2

You stand in the exact same spot you'd kissed Eren last night, as you wait for him to park his bike to the far end of the lot.

Looking down at the cute bouquet of Hydrangea, a blush creeps up on your cheeks as you look up to see Eren walking towards you.

You feel your heart thumping louder than usual, maybe it was the post-date jitters of anticipation or maybe it's the wine you downed as you chatted the night away with the handsome man in front of you — if there's one thing you're certain of, it's that this has been the best first date you'd ever been on.

~~~

When Eren texted you in the morning, wishing you a good morning with a “looking forward to the date princess?”, you damn near went into panic mode about the tiniest stupid details like which outfit to wear or how to style your hair to look good for him.

Eren had been vague about the location and had only told you to get ready by 7PM. Since you loved the thrill of surprises, you didn’t press further albeit dying to know where he was taking you.

With facetime suggestions from Annie picking her favourites and ultimately telling you ‘you look pretty in whatever you wear babe’, she was of little help. So, you decided to settle on wearing a mini dress that was just the right amount of sexy without being too slutty.

Once you’re done with makeup and putting on your heels, you check the time to see that it’s quarter to 7, meaning Eren might arrive anytime soon. You pick the helmet he’d given you along with your purse as you walk to your flatmate’s room and knock on her door.

“Yea?” you hear her voice from inside.

“Outfit check,” you reply as you open the door and twirl for her.

“Ooo, sexy mama… poor guy’s gonna have blue balls throughout dinner,” she snorts.

“Sasha! Be serious!” you scold her. She’s about to say something but instead her eyebrows furrow when she looks at your hand.

“What’s that?” Sasha points at the helmet in your hand. Your eyes widen at the realisation.

“Bike! Eren has a bike! I can’t wear this! fuck!” you panic but Sasha clicks her tongue as she jumps out of her bed to rush to her closet. She pulls out a long overcoat and walks towards you.

You keep your things on her side table before wearing the coat and checking yourself out in the mirror. The coat isn’t much longer than the dress but it might just do a good job at covering your legs on the bike.

“Works?” you ask, looking at her through the reflection.

She nods and grins at you, “Still sexy,” before smacking your ass lightly.

You’re about to complain but are distracted by your phone vibrating on the table and smile at seeing Eren’s name flash on the screen. You greet her with a hurried bye bye as you pick your things up in haste and answer the call. Your pace quickens as you walk out the door informing Eren that you’re on your way when he tells you he’s arrived in the parking lot.

When you walk towards his bike, you see him leaning against it with the bouquet in hand. You eye him up and down to check out his outfit. He’s wearing all black with his hair slicked back, loose strands kissing his forehead. The light blue/purple flowers make for a stark contrast with his outfit. You feel giddy just thinking about how the man you’ve had the biggest crush on is waiting to take you out on a date.

“Hi beautiful,” he greets you, holding out the bouquet for you. However, you lean in to give him a hug first instead.

“Hello, my babygurl,” you giggle, wrapping your hands around his torso. He lets out a laugh as you feel him hug you back tightly.

“‘Ren… I need to be alive in order to eat.” you squirm in his arms, feeling him squeeze you in tighter.

“K… I’ll delay the killing for now,” he releases you but not before placing a light peck on your cheek.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you giggle as you take the bouquet, observing the flowers, “.. so pretty.”

“They don’t even come close to you, bub,” he blurts out and you look up to meet his soft gaze.

“Jeez, you weren’t kidding about being a hopeless romantic,” you say as you try not to grin even further at his comment.

“You haven’t seen the best of it yet… ready to leave?” he asks as he takes the helmet from your hand to gently place it on your head. He catches you by surprise when he kisses the tip of your nose suddenly before turning around to wear his helmet as he gets on the bike.

He tilts his bike slightly for your ease and you hold your purse and the bouquet in one hand, gripping his shoulder for support as you climb up and sit close to him to avoid any sorts of wardrobe malfunction. You fix the coat before hugging him from behind when you hear the engine roar.

“All good?”

“Mhm.” you nod as your grip tightens around his waist.

Eren's a seasoned biker – he's the type to be deemed ‘reckless’ by the general observer but if you're riding behind him, you know you can trust his skills with your life.

So that's what you do – you close your eyes to feel the wind blowing over your skin gently, relaxing against his back. If it weren't for the excitement of the date, you probably would've fallen asleep due to how peaceful the ride felt.

When the bike comes to a halt, you open your eyes to observe your surroundings. The restaurant gives off an earthy and very one-with-nature vibe.

“Eren, could you hold this for a sec?” You shake the bouquet and he holds it along with your purse instantly.

You rest both your hands firmly on his shoulders as you get off the bike in one swift motion. You quickly smoothen out any creases that might’ve formed on your dress during the ride.

As you slightly tug at the hem of your dress to straighten it, Eren chuckles softly, “Don't worry… it looks good.”

“Hmm, okay… don't need this anymore then,” you smile at him as you take off your coat and hold it in your arms.

It's just now that Eren is seeing your dress fully for the first time, the way the fabric hugs your body in the right places, accentuating your curves gracefully. And if you weren’t too occupied with trying to take your helmet off as you looked around to take in the scenery, you would've noticed his eyes confirming what Sasha had said about him – he almost contemplated cancelling dinner to take you home right away, imagining all the things he’d do to you.

“... don't you think?” You turn to look at him as if waiting for him to speak.

“Sorry… what?” Eren mumbles, pulled out of his trance abruptly.

“I said the place has a very naturesque aesthetic to it, don’t you agree?” You repeat your question.

“Oh… Yea– right– umm, yes, my friend owns this actually,” Eren clears his throat, collecting his thoughts.

“Really? That's so cool!” Your eyes gleam in excitement. Eren gets off, securing both the helmets to the bike before taking the coat from your hand so that he’s carrying the flowers, your coat and your purse in one hand while placing his other hand on your lower back.

“Rennie, I can carry it by myself,” you laugh as you try to grab your stuff from his hand. This only causes him to lift his hand up and out of your reach. Instead, he takes this opportunity to lean down to give a soft peck on your lips.

“Not on my watch. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be sore from yesterday?” he narrows his eyes at you.

“Yes, but not so much that I can’t even hold a bouquet… or are you implying that I’m weak?” you touch your heart to feign offence.

“Not at all… my baby’s strong, she can do seven pull ups,” he teases you even further. You simply slap his stomach playfully in response, failing to quickly come up with something witty.

When you enter the restaurant, you’re greeted by Eren’s friend, Niccolo.

“Hey man, you’ve arrived right on time. Armin just got here too,” Niccolo greets Eren, giving him a bro hug.

Niccolo turns to look at you, “So you're the pretty lady he won't shut up about,” he extends his arm out and you shake it, blushing hard.

“You've got a gorgeous place here,” you reply with a wide smile.

“Thank you,” Niccolo grins before him and Eren exchange a secretive look. He simply motions you both to follow him to the back, across the room.

“Armin?” You ask, curiosity peaking. You recall Eren mentioning the name a few times before.

“All shall be revealed in its own time,” he smirks and you playfully roll your eyes at how smug he sounds.

When Niccolo opens the backyard door, you almost gasp at how pretty the setup is. The garden area has a table for two at the centre with pretty fairy lights lighting up the entire place.

Your eyes scan over to see an elevated wooden stage space in a corner. You spot a blonde guy with a guitar, busy fixing his chair and adjusting the mic.

“Armin!” Eren yells to get the blonde's attention. Armin looks up and smiles brightly at Eren, giving him a wink and shouting back, “You owe me one now.”

“Thanks man,” Eren chuckles, bowing at the guy.

“The musician who plays here every weekend wasn't available tonight so I pulled in a favour,” Eren tells you as he pulls out the chair for you to sit.

“Thought you’d play the guitar by yourself too,” you joke.

“Won't that make me Mr. Perfect then?”

“Well… that you already are… Mr. Perfect, my babygurl… the list is endless,” you compliment him and it almost comes out as a mumble. You knew his cocky smile would only widen the more you put him on a pedestal.

But you don’t mind holding him in such high regard since he really is one of the kindest, nicest men you’d ever met. None of your exes had ever gone so overboard to make you feel special. Forget about first dates – they hadn’t done anything close to this for even important milestones and anniversaries. It had always been you taking the initiative before, so tonight already feels like an alien experience.

“Is it just us here?” You ask as he sits in front of you.

But before Eren has a chance to speak, Niccolo chuckles, “Yup, Eren was very specific about it when he very rudely disrupted my sleep at 5 in the morning to close the reservations for this area for tonight.”

“Oh stop whining, you and Armin could be the best men at our wedding,” Eren laughs, winking at you and you look down, biting the inside of your cheeks to keep your composure. It’s a harmless joke – of course you know it too! You’re not that delusional – but with the way he’s been treating you so far, you might as well come up with baby names by tomorrow morning.

You feel bad for not getting him anything since you'd assumed he wasn't all that serious about you. Yet here he was, proving you wrong with everything he did!

By the time you’re done with dinner, your heart feels just as full as your belly. The food and Armin’s sweet serenades (which lasted for about 30 minutes before he politely excused himself to go to the kitchen to have dinner with Niccolo) was everything you could've asked for and more.

Eren mentioned that he’d actually helped Niccolo with some of the recipes on the menu in its initial test runs. So when he asked you what you wanted to have, you told him you’d love to try the recipes he’d worked on. You’re impressed by just how good everything looks when the server assembles a variety of pasta, ravioli, risotto, roasted veggies on your table along with a bottle of rosé.

By the time you’re done with the last bite, you’re convinced this might as well be as good as it gets. You’d downed more than half the bottle by yourself since Eren barely drank a glass as he had to get you back home safely. Feeling a little less nervous, you hold your hand out in front to place it on top of his, “Eren, I don’t think I have enough words to express just how happy my heart is right now… and it’s all because of you.”

He smiles as he moves his hand from under yours to intertwine your fingers together instead. “Then don’t speak, just show me,” he says as he leans forward, pouting dramatically. You laugh as you move the wine glass away before closing the distance and kissing him gently. It’s short and has you longing for more when he pulls away.

Just as Eren gets up, excusing himself to get to the washroom, Armin walks out into the area. You smile at him as he sits back in his chair.

“Any special requests?” he asks and you get up to walk to him.

“Actually… Do you mind if I borrow your guitar for one song?” you ask him hesitantly, “I will handle it with care I promise.”

“Yeah, it’s alright. Here you go,” he chuckles as he holds the instrument out for you. Armin gets off the chair and you take his place instead, getting a feel of the guitar quickly before Eren returns.

You let out a sigh as you turn the mic away, convinced you’d freak out less without it. When Eren notices you, he walks towards the stage with an amused look on his face.

“I will murder you if you make fun of me… it’s a work in progress,” you warn him before he even tries to tease you about it. Eren brings his hand up to his face and slides it over as if to seal his lips.

“God, you’re making me nervous…” you mumble as you clear your throat. You turn to look at your fingers on the fretboard, holding them in position as you begin strumming the chords to House Of Cards by Radiohead, the melody sounding slightly off tune whenever your fingers miss landing on the right spot.

You look up briefly to see Eren’s face light up with a bright smile as he instantly recognizes the song before you even begin singing the words. He’d mentioned a few days ago that he’d been obsessed with it lately.

“I don't want to be your friend,

I just want to be your lover

No matter how it ends

No matter how it starts

Forget about your house of cards

And I'll do mine…” you almost stutter when you look up again to see the way he’s looking at you with an intense adoration that has you feeling giddy. Your concentration breaks as you hold his gaze, missing the next chord in the worst way possible.

You crinkle your nose as your voice breaks into a chuckle when you sing the next line, “... Fall off – and I forgot the next lineee.”

Eren's laughter booms from his chest, music to your ears and although you’ve failed at serenading your lover, you’re more than happy to be the reason he’s laughing so hard.

He walks towards you, taking the guitar away from you to hand it to Armin, who’d been giggling and clapping at your attempt nonetheless. Eren holds your hands in his as he pulls you to him, making you stand up. He hugs you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and you squirm slightly at the sudden contact when you feel his breath on your skin.

“Thank you,” you hear his muffled voice.

“No, thank you,” you hook your arms around his shoulders tightly. When you hear Armin clear his throat, you move away from Eren’s embrace slowly as you see the blonde hold the guitar in position, pulling the chair towards him.

“Did you know, Eren has another favourite song?” Armin smirks at Eren as he sits back on the chair comfortably. Eren shoots him a look of warning.

“Arlert… I didn’t call you here to embarrass me in front of my girl,” Eren says, his ears turning red from embarrassment. You shush him with a finger on his lips as you encourage Armin some more.

“So dear y/n… how would you like to hear the song that baby Eren used to dance with his mom to?”

~~~

You hadn’t realised how quickly time passed when you’d gotten comfortable talking to Armin as he spilled all the secret lore of Eren’s childhood, ignoring all of his protests. Eren had eventually given up since he was enjoying the way you’d laugh and squeeze his hand from time to time at some stupid yet endearing thing Armin would reveal about his best friend.

So now with Eren standing in front of you in the parking lot of your apartment well into the night, it still feels like you haven’t had enough time with him. He grins as he pockets his key and you take a step towards him to wrap your arms around his neck, holding the bouquet firmly behind him.

You don’t need to stand on your toes, thanks to the tall heels you’re wearing. Eren only needs to tilt his head down slightly to close the gap between your lips. He hums contently into the kiss and you can feel his lips break into a big smile as his arms snake around your waist from under the coat.

Your stomach does a somersault at the thought of inviting him up to your house. You break the kiss to suggest going up to your place but are interrupted by your phone ringing in your purse. Pulling away your hands from him, you reach into the bag to dig out your phone.

You check the caller ID and it’s Sasha. “Roommate,” you tell Eren before picking up the call. He simply nods, hands still firmly around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Hey, what’s up?” you answer.

“Hey, I know I said I’d take care of the drinks so sorry to put this on you last minute but could you pleaseeeee get like 2 bottles of vodka, 1 of gin, 1 rum and whatever soda you can find with it on your way back home?” you hear Sasha pleading on the other end.

“Ummm… Are you okay?” You laugh, confused at the weird request.

“Yes? For the party?”

Holy shit! You almost want to cuss your poor memory right about now. While thinking about all things Eren, it had completely slipped your mind that your roommate was throwing a rager tonight.

She’d mentioned it vaguely over the week but you didn’t think much of it since you figured you’d be home anyway.

“Shit, I totally forgot about that,” you hiss.

“No worries, but hurry up before everyone gets mad at Connie and I for forgetting to stock up… you can bring your hottie from the gym with you too if the date's going well.”

You see Eren’s ears perk up at Sasha’s words, lips threatening to break into another one of his smug smiles.

“Righttt… let me call you back in a minute, okay?” You quickly cut her off before she has a chance to say something stupid and hang up the call.

Eren’s biting his lip to hold back his laughter as he asks you, clearly amused, “Hottie from the gym?”

“Shut up.”

“Have I been on your mind the entire time, bub?” he coos, nudging your cheek with his nose.

“No…” you lie before quickly changing the topic, “Anywayyy, so the house is packed with people. Would you like to come up?”

“Baby, I am not going to share you any longer tonight,” he lifts your chin up with his index finger. “Especially not when I’ve been dying to rip that dress off you all night,” you feel the heat rise up to your cheeks at his words as he leans down to kiss you. He bites and pulls at your bottom lip, causing you to moan into the kiss.

Eren opens his eyes, pulling back to stare at your lips, your lipstick slightly smudged. He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, and it feels like he smudges it more instead of fixing it, before his eyes meet yours.

“Fuck this… we’re going to my place,” he groans. You bite your lip as you nod but your eyebrows furrow quickly at the realisation.

“What about that guy… Jean? Your friend?”

“I couldn’t care less about that horseface. Not gonna let him cockblock me two nights in a row.” Eren declares as he lets go of your waist to grab your wrist. He pulls you with him, taking fast strides to where he’d parked his bike.

“You might want to call your roommate to tell her you won’t be coming home tonight,” he speaks as he puts the helmet on your head.

“I can just text her,” you mutter as you send her a quick text: can’t make it tonight. Going to Eren’s!!!!!! Dnd

You quickly shut your phone, not waiting for her reply, shoving it in your purse before climbing up on the bike behind Eren. The ride to his place is much shorter as Eren takes every shortcut he can possibly find to get home soon.

When Eren hastily opens the door to his apartment, you step into the dark living room behind him, trying to make as little noise as you can. He locks the door and you take off your footwear, placing all your things on the coffee table of the living room haphazardly.

Eren glances briefly in the direction of Reiner’s room to see the door has been shut, meaning Jean’s probably fast asleep. Not wanting to waste another second, Eren pulls you closer, sliding the coat off your body as goosebumps rise all over your skin at his touch.

You close your eyes as soon as your lips meet, relishing the way his lips feel against you. Eren dips his tongue into your mouth, dominating the kiss as he towers over you, holding you by the waist. You hook your arms around his neck for support as his hands glide down to play with the hem of your dress.

You let out an involuntary whimper when his lips move to your neck at the same time his fingers slide under your dress to dig into the flesh of your ass.

“Fuck, Ere–” you bite your tongue in an attempt to stifle your moans as Eren pulls the strap of the dress down your shoulder with his teeth.

“Are you not one of the quiet ones, baby?” he teases as he bites the skin over your shoulder while his fingers hook around the band of your underwear before releasing it with a soft smack.

Your nails dig at his shoulders as you shake your head before breathing out a low ‘no.’ Eren’s enjoying this a little too much, his fingers moving dangerously close to your core. When his fingers swipe over your clothed pussy excruciatingly slowly, it feels like his brain might short circuit at how wet you already are.

“‘Ren– please,” you beg as your fingers move down to his bicep in an attempt to get him to move faster. But instead he pulls his hands away and you’re about to complain but it turns into a yelp instead when he catches you by surprise as he lifts you up bridal style.

“Poor Jean’s gonna have a noise complaint,” Eren snickers in a low voice as he carries you to his room. He kicks the door shut behind him with his foot as he moves to the bed, dropping you onto the mattress before climbing up on top of you. He leans to the side to switch on the bedside lamp and it softly illuminates his features.

You lift up to kiss him. He pulls you onto him till you’re straddling his lap, your pussy fluttering when you feel his hard cock pressing against you. You grind your hips, eyes closing shut with your head lolling back, moaning his name at how good the friction feels.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Eren groans when your fingers in his hair lightly pull at his strands. You knit your eyebrows in pleasure when you feel his hands squeeze your breasts from over your dress.

“You’re– mmh– one to talk,” you retort, moving your hips in a steady motion. Eren grabs your wrists to hold them up before pulling your dress over your head in one swift motion, discarding it to the floor.

“Did you wear this for me, pretty?” he says as he observes the lingerie you’re wearing – a blood red lace set. His mouth latches onto one of your boobs, wetting the fabric as he teeths your hardened bud.

“Ahh– jus– wanted to look good for you,” you mewl as you rest your head on his shoulder, grinding faster, feeling yourself getting wetter by the minute.

“Thank you baby. But– hmm– I can’t take my eyes off you even in your oversized gym tees.” he breathes out as he stills your movements by gripping your hips firmly.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg as you lift your head up to look at him, trying to move despite him holding you in place.

“No. I want you to cum on my face,” he says sternly, looking you in the eyes and you know it’s not a request. You nod desperately and his lips curve into one of those smug smiles as he lies back down on the bed, pulling at your hips till you’re on your knees, your core hovering over his face.

“Sit.”

You obey as you slowly lower yourself over his lips, holding most of your weight onto your hands as you lean forward to rest them on the mattress near his head. You hear a tsk as Eren yanks the thin fabric of your thong to a side before digging his fingers into your hips to pull you down closer.

You let out a desperate whimper, feeling as if you’re almost about to lose your fucking mind when he licks a strip up your wet folds. You breathe out a series of cusses, getting louder each time his tongue caresses your clit.

“Fuc- Eren, don’t stop!” you cry out loud. His tongue dips into your hole, swirling to lap at your juices as the tip of his nose brushes against your clit. You squirm as you grip the sheets tightly to steady yourself. He groans as he sucks and licks your pussy, the sound of his voice along with the wet noises of his mouth go straight to your head and you feel yourself getting closer.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper as you try to pull away from his face. You feel him claw at your ass cheeks before pulling you back into place, increasing the brutal pace of his tongue.

“Pleas– fuck– Eren!” you cry as your hips twitch violently as your orgasm washes over you. Your legs shake, almost giving in as you grab Eren’s hair with shaky hands.

“‘Ts too much,” tears well up in your eyes as your body jerks involuntarily, reacting to each of his licks. Eren knows he’s overstimulating you, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the way your body’s reacting to him and your sweet cries encouraging him to keep pushing you over the edge once more.

He grips at your sides to flip your body so that you’re lying flat on your back. Before you have a chance to close your legs shut, he yanks off your underwear and tosses it to the side. He flashes you a sinister grin, his chin coated with your slick, before diving back down between your legs and spreading them open roughly with his hands.

He spits near your entrance, spreading it around with two fingers before sliding them into you. You try to steady your breathing as you close your eyes, feeling the sweat trickle down your forehead. As he curls his fingers inside you, your back arches as your legs shake.

“Fuck–”

You roughly tug at his hair as you try to close your legs. He suddenly pulls away completely before grabbing your thighs to shove your legs up till they’re pressing into your chest. As his left hand holds you in place, his mouth’s back at it again, now focusing solely on your clit while his right hand moves down to finger you again.

As you get closer, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you sense the familiar feeling build up. You claw at his arm as you try to warn him, “Ren, I– ahh– I might squir– ngh.”

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel him make a humming sound as he keeps on licking you fervently, curling two fingers up to hit the right spot inside you over and over again. You let out a loud cry when you feel the release hit you hard, your brain too foggy to feel any sort of shame at the way you wet the bed and the top of his shirt. Your body twitches as he loosens his grip and your legs fall back down limply. You hear him mumble a soft ‘fuck baby’, his eyes fixated on your hole twitching and the damp mess under you. He pulls out his wet fingers and holds them up in front of him before sucking them clean.

Your chest heaves as you look down at him with a fucked out expression on your face. You gulp as you stare into his eyes. It’s a sight you might never get over – it’s the first time a man has succeeded at making you squirt. He’s smiling lazily at you, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his sweaty torso underneath and you think you might as well say goodbye to your vibrator if this is who you’re getting instead.

Good lord, he’s literally perfect.

You break eye contact when his gaze feels too intimidating, as you sit back up and tug a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the wet patch where you’d squirted.

“Taste so good, baby,” he compliments you and you look up to see him closing the distance between you, his shirt already tossed on the floor. He moves a hand back to unclasp your bra, taking it off as he whispers softly in your ear, “You’re so pretty you know that?” you blush at his compliment as you trace your fingers down his abs.

“Eren, I can’t wait any longer,” you plead as your hand moves over his bulge and you unbutton his pants before sliding your hand in to pull out his dick. You gulp as you look down, his cock is painfully hard with precum coating the tip. You glide your thumb over, pulling his foreskin down and he lets out a low groan. Feeling encouraged, your other hand presses against his chest to signal him to lie down. You move with him, lowering yourself till your face is inches away from his tip. You look up to meet his gaze as you pull his pants down along with his boxers to free him completely. You start with tiny kitten licks as you move down his shaft, fingers tracing over gently to tease him.

“Fuck, baby wait,” he breathes out, “I can’t– I need to fuck you first.”

Eren sits up abruptly, pulling your hands away from his cock and giving you a quick peck before jumping out the bed. You observe him as he rummages through his bedside drawer with furrowed eyebrows. He turns to open the tall mirror cabinet next to the door.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Do you not have any condoms?” you speak with a slightly dejected tone. His face turns to look at you, the gears in his head working at rapid speed.

“We are fucking tonight or I might just combust into flames,” he declares with a determined look on his face. And you wonder if pulling out has crossed his mind as a considerable option.

Before you can contemplate on it some more, he puts his boxers on and rushes out of his room, leaving the door ajar. You don’t have to wait for long as you see Eren return within a minute. He locks the door behind him, waving a sealed box of condoms in hand with a victorious grin.

“Did you really ask Jean for those?” your jaw drops as you watch him take off his boxers, giving his dick a few pumps to get it fully erect again. He rips a pack with his teeth as he looks up at you.

“What? No! These are Levi’s,” he spits out the piece of wrapper, his eyes fixed on your naked form, “He absolutely hates others going into his room without permission, but he’ll understand… It's an emergency.” Eren winks at you as he slides the rubber along his length before climbing back up on the bed.

“Now… where were we?” He smiles as he pulls you by your leg, guiding it around his waist and you lift your other leg up as well, hooking them over his lower back.

“You were about to fuck me,” you reply to his rhetoric, rubbing circles on his shoulders and batting your eyelashes at him.

“Righttt… better keep my word,” he quips and your giggle turns into a moan when he presses two fingers to your core, parting your folds to slide them up and down at a steady pace. He grabs your right leg to place it over his shoulder, opening you wider than before as he starts pumping his fingers inside you.

“Please– fuck me already,” you wail, growing more desperate than ever.

“Patience bub, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” he speaks coolly, yet his voice feels strained and you can tell he’s just as desperate as you are. You pull his face to yours, kissing him with your tongue dominating this time. He curls his finger to hit the spot inside you, causing you to moan into the kiss as you lose control and he shoves his tongue into your mouth once again.

“Rennie, pleaseee, I want to feel your dick fill me up,” you purr, hoping he’d break at your lewd words. Eren simply hums as he leans his head down to focus his attention on your tits instead, peppering them with sloppy wet kisses and tugging at them with his teeth, earning a moan from you each time.

“Eren!” your intention is to scold him, but it comes out way softer and whinier than intended. Instead Eren repeats your name in the same tone to mock you as he pulls his fingers out and they’re glistening with your slick.

“Spit,” he brings the hand up to your lips. You oblige even when you know it's for the added theatrics – you’re impossibly wet, you don’t need the extra lubricant, yet you gather some saliva on the tip of your tongue, spitting it onto his fingers, eyes still locked with his. He smirks as he brings his hand down again to tap his fingers over your pussy and you close your eyes, head falling back as you hum in anticipation.

You feel him line up the tip of his cock against your core, rubbing his length over your folds a few times. You let out tiny whimpers of approval as he pushes the head in. Your walls adjust to his girth as he slowly shoves in till he’s filled you up to the hilt.

Your nails dig into his skin when your walls flutter around him. You let out an involuntary whimper when you look down to see the way your bodies are connected.

Eren’s eyes follow yours as he tilts his head down, slowly pulling out till only his tip is inside you. He looks back up at you, a devilish grin plastered on his face as you stare at him with knitted brows. He doesn’t have to keep you guessing for long as he slams back into you, bottoming out and you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your scream.

He lets out a breathy grunt of disapproval at your action as he grabs both your wrists, pinning them over your head. You slur out a series of ‘yesyesyes’ as Eren starts thrusting into you.

You’re trying your best to not be too loud, aware that there’s a person asleep on the other side of the wall but the way Eren’s dick rams into you has you losing your sanity. You try to hook your left leg to his lower back but his movements are too erratic to hold your leg in place.

Sensing your struggle, he holds both of your wrists together with one hand, bringing the other down to guide your left leg over his shoulder as well.

“God– fuck, Eren, faster,” you cry, shutting your eyes as your back arches off the mattress. Eren obeys as he releases his grip over your hands to hold your waist firmly as his back straightens. Your lower body lifts up with him as his grip tightens to support your balance and this new angle hits better, turning you into a blubbering mess as you chant his name, praising him with broken stutters and moans.

Eren’s movements get sloppier, the slapping against your skin getting weaker as he slows down a bit. You tug his arms in protest, urging him to keep going.

“Baby– fuck– I’ll come if I don’t slow down,” he moans as he shuts his eyes. You extend your arms out to pull at his biceps with some force but he barely moves. “Wanna make you feel good… come for me ‘Ren,” you encourage him.

Eren lets out a low ‘fuck’ as he picks up his pace again simultaneously while pressing his chest into yours to fold you in half. His hips snap with an ungodly force, moving your body slightly up each time he thrusts into you. He holds you in place by slightly pressing his body weight on top of yours, dipping his head down to suck the skin over your neck.

“Shit– I’m–” Eren’s voice breaks as you feel his dick twitch inside you as he comes, slowing down before stopping completely. He rests his sweaty forehead against yours as you slide your legs down his shoulders, letting them fall limply to the sides.

“Sorry baby, I don’t usually come so fast. I don’t know what happened,” he sighs, hot breath fanning your face.

“Shh… it's okay,” you smile at him as you play with his hair lazily. He wraps his arms around your torso before rolling over to lie on his back with you on top of him.

“Seriously, what are you doing to me?” he mumbles, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“Hmm?” you look at him in confusion. He lets out a breathy chuckle as he tucks the stray strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your face to squish your cheeks.

“I can’t control myself when I’m with you,” he lifts his head up to kiss you, “blessed be the day I decided to change my gym schedule.”

You giggle at his confession before tilting your head to the side in thought. The question pops up in your head, “Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

“Because I was worried you’d shoot me down instantly, thinking I’m a creep or something,” he explains and you look at him expectantly so he continues, “You know how you were always alone, not bothering anyone – I figured you hated interacting with people unnecessarily.”

“Well, that’s partially true… but I would’ve accepted your advances with open arms,” you spread your arms out to collapse your entire weight onto his body, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Damn… we missed about 3 months of fuckin–” you cover his mouth with your hand and feel his torso vibrate under you as he laughs before biting your hand lightly. You instantly pull your hand away and he continues, “All I’m saying is that we need to catch up.”

“We’ve fucked enough for one night,” you laugh as you pull your body away to lie down next to him. He turns to lie on his side to look at you, fingers tracing along the expanse of your chest before dipping down to the valley of your stomach.

“No, we haven’t. I haven’t made you come yet,” he argues as his fingers move further down. You blink at him, dumbfounded.

“But I did?”

“But you didn’t… not with my dick inside you. It doesn’t count,” he explains matter-of-factly and you let out a snort. He lazily plays with your folds, rubbing feather-light circles over the area.

“Rennie, I’m tired,” you protest but your body moves at its own accord as you grab his forearm to push it closer to your core.

“I’d warned you I was a ruthless workout partner,” Eren lets out a humourless chuckle, pressing his entire palm over your mound. Your voice strains as you snicker at his joke before you look at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. You cup his cheek, and despite feeling the weight of your whole body sinking into the mattress due to how sore everything feels, you lean towards him to kiss him as a new wave of desire stirs inside you.

Eren breaks away to get off the bed as he discards the used condom into the bin and grabs a fresh one off the table. You sit up, hand moving to your shoulder to massage as far as you can reach, feeling the stiffness in your entire back.

“All good?” he asks when he notices you.

“Hmm… could you please get me some water?” you reply and he nods his head, walking out to the kitchen, not bothering to cover himself up this time.

You make your way to the washroom before he returns, feeling the fatigue really settle in with every step you take. You just know you’re gonna have the most peaceful sleep after. When you’re done peeing, you stare at your reflection in his bathroom mirror. There’s a faint black trail around your eyes and your lipstick’s almost non-existent, except for the light stain in patches.

Knowing you’d be too tired after round two, you decide to wash your face with the cleanser you find on the shelf. When your face looks less of a mess, you walk out into the bedroom and find Eren sitting on the edge of the bed, drinking from the water bottle.

He stands up and walks to you, handing the bottle to you. Feeling your throat dry up, you gulp the water down hurriedly.

“Here,” he hands you a towel and you swap the two items, dabbing your face with the towel. Eren tosses the empty bottle over the clothes bundled up on the floor before pulling you by your wrist to him, kissing your nose and grinning at you as he wraps his arms around your waist. You notice his lips also have the faint patchy stains of your lipstick and let out a chuckle as you bring the towel to wipe it off his mouth.

“Thank you, m’lady,” he snorts, pressing his lips to yours and you smile into the kiss. You feel the butterflies in your stomach once again and it’s as if he’s kissing you for the first time all over again.

“So stiff…” He frowns as he pulls away and turns you around so that your back is facing him. He puts his magical fingers to work as he massages all the kinks out of your back. You feel your body slump, lolling your neck to the front as you relax into his touch. It’s short lived however, when you feel a spank on your right buttcheek.

“Hey!” you complain as you move forward and away from him on instinct.

“Come here,” he laughs as he pulls you back in, pressing your back to his front. It’s when you feel his already erect dick against your tailbone that you realise he’d already put on another condom while you were in the bathroom.

How foolish of you to almost think he was massaging your back as aftercare!

His left arm is wrapped around your tiny waist, palm pressing you firmly into him as he takes a step back to sit on the bed, pulling you onto his lap. He readjusts his position so that you’re directly in front of the tall mirror.

Eren spreads your legs open with his own, grabbing your thighs as his knees buckle forward to restrict your movement, keeping you from closing them. He pulls your hands behind your back, pressing them there between your bodies. Your eyes meet in the reflection as his hands come up to brush your hair away from your face and twisting it at the back. His left hand toys with one of your hardened nipples while his other hand glides down your belly, fingers leaving ghost touches over your folds.

You knit your eyebrows together as it gets harder to hold his gaze – partly due to how intense his stare feels and partly due to how naked you feel in that moment, baring it all for him. He smirks as he lowers his head to your neck, eyes not wavering even for a second.

He licks a strip up your neck at the same time his fingers start playing with your cunt vigorously. You let out a guttural whine, closing your eyes shut as your head falls back against his shoulder.

“Eyes open pet… watch the way I fuck you,” he orders, slapping your folds lightly. Desperate to find a surface to grab, you free your right hand to claw at his bicep while your other hand bunches up the fabric of the bedsheet near his thigh.

Eren lets out a low chuckle as he starts pumping two fingers inside you, and you scream his name shamelessly between broken moans. He pulls his fingers out to grab his painfully erect cock, lining it up at your entrance. You squirm against him as he brings his other hand up to your jaw, fingers digging in your cheeks as he whispers against your ear, “I told you to look, I won’t repeat again.”

Your chest heaves rapidly as you open your eyes to meet his gaze in the reflection once again. “Eren… fuck– pleaseee,” you plead, and in that moment you’re not sure whether it’s for him to go easy on you or to shove his dick into you without further delay. So, he decides for himself, opting for the latter.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to keep them open when he slams his hips up, rutting his entire length into you. He digs at your waist with both hands, bouncing you on his dick at the same time he thrusts up, skin slapping loudly against each other. Your body twitches as you sob at the sensation.

“Stop– fuck– squeezing me so tightly,” he grunts as he increases the pace. You twist your torso to look back at him, hands moving up to tug at his hair roughly as you pull him closer for a kiss. As he continues grinding his cock, you moan into his mouth each time his tip kisses your g-spot, rubbing oh-so-deliciously against your walls.

“Eren– oh god–yesyes,” you cry and he brings his hand down to your clit. Your brain goes into overdrive as your body shivers into his arms. Eren relentlessly fucking into you and stimulating your sensitive nub simultaneously is too much for you to handle. You bite your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure it’s gonna bruise later as your toes curl in, your orgasm washing over you.

Eren presses your convulsing body close to his in an attempt to still your movements, his thrusts getting sloppy as he tries to steady his legs on the floor.

“‘Is too much–” you cry as your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs.

“Almost there– shit–fuck,” his breathing gets ragged as you feel his dick twitch inside your walls, the muscles of his legs tensing under you before relaxing completely as he finally slows down before stopping completely.

He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as his grip on you loosens. He kisses your skin lightly but your back jerks away from his touch. You get up off his lap before collapsing on the bed.

“Too sensitive,” you mumble as you look up at the ceiling, resting a hand on your forehead. Your breathing settles a bit and you look back down to see him discarding the condom into the bin. He puts his boxers back on before rummaging through his closet. He finds one of his oversized anime t-shirts, but instead of wearing it himself, he brings it to you.

As he leans over you on the bed, he brings his knuckles up to wipe the tears off your face. You sit up slowly, lifting your hands up so that he can put his t-shirt on you. You smile at him with tired eyes and he smiles back, cupping your face.

“Was that too much?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as his eyes search yours for any signs of discomfort.

You shake your head no, “It was perfect.”

“Told you I only brag when I know I'm good,” he smiles softly, kissing your forehead as he lies you back down, pulling the blanket to cover your bodies. You hum as he pulls you into his chest, patting your head gently.

“You did so good, baby. Get some sleep,” he whispers and you feel your body melting into his as you wrap your arm around his waist.

“‘Ren… I have the biggest crush on you,” you mumble as you close your eyes.

“I have an even bigger one on you,” he speaks softly, still caressing your skin with his fingertips.

“Oh yeah… definitely the biggest,” you whisper as your lips curl up, feeling proud of your stupid joke. He lets out a soft chuckle and by the lazy motion of his fingers, you can tell he’s pretty tired too.

“Good night, bub.”

You want to talk to him and tell him just how crazy you are for him and how tonight has been the best night of your life but your tongue feels heavy as sleep takes over your thoughts, shutting them off completely.

You decide you’ll tell him about how much you adore him when you wake up, “Good night, baby.”

You move your heavy hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat. As you drift deeper into your slumber, the last thing you note is the way your heart beats against your chest, in sync with his beating under your touch.

~~~

“No, that’s not what I– Eren! Stop it!” you break out into a fit of laughter as you grab his wrists to stop him from tickling you. He’s caged you between his body and the kitchen counter, your breakfast sizzling on the pan next to you.

“Okayyy fineeee,” he rolls his eyes at you dramatically before leaning in to kiss you for what seems like the hundredth time since you woke up.

“Baby, aren’t my pants too loose for you? Let me fix it,” he teases, tugging at the drawstrings of his joggers that you're wearing.

“No… I’m not falling for the same trick again.” You giggle into the kiss as you ruffle his hair to mess it up.

“Jeez, are you guys still at it?” you hear a voice from the doorway of the kitchen and pull away to look at the man. Jean walks in, looking grumpy and sleep-deprived, yawning as he walks to the refrigerator. “How thin are your walls? It almost felt like I was the one getting fucked.”

“Cry about it to Reiner,” Eren lets out a dry chuckle before wrapping his arms around you once again. He bites your earlobe, causing you to giggle softly as you slap his chest lightly.

Jean simply rolls his eyes at this, rushing out of the kitchen with the entire box of cereal, milk carton and bowl in hand.

“He forgot to take a spoon,” you observe when Jean’s out of your sight completely. Eren chuckles before lifting you up till you’re seated on the counter. You press your palm to his chest, creasing the fabric of his t-shirt as he leans forward, kissing down your neck and tugging at the hem of your t-shirt.

“Gonna make him wish he’d shoved the cereal down his throat with his hands instead,” Eren laughs but it doesn’t exactly sound like a joke.

Evidently so, Eren’s hands move under your t-shirt to play with your tits as he shuts you up with a kiss before you have a chance to talk some sense into him.

~ fin ~

#erensbirdie #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren yeager #eren jaeger #aot x you #aot smut #aot #attack on titan

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