#Orange flame brother

[bby-deerling]

cream (ace x reader nsfw)

ace helps you warm up :^) inspired by the prince song

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 1.8k masterlist

cw: afab!fem!reader, cowgirl, temperature play kinda, ace is a lil tease, semi-public-ish sex, creampie, spit as lube

tagging: @discodreaming @eelnoise

The unforgiving chill of the desert night was seeping into your bones, leaving you shaking and clenching your teeth so hard you couldn’t bear the pain any longer.  Nami had greedily yanked away your blanket in her sleep, and you didn’t want to bother or wake Vivi, leaving you no choice but to wander outside of your tent and see if the campfire was enough to warm your nearly numb body—if it was even still lit.

Peeking out of your tent, you see the flames are smaller than before, but still capable of giving you some heat and comfort.  Gingerly, you step towards the fire, keeping your steps light to avoid waking any of the boys up, who had fallen asleep in a pile on top of each other; before you reach your destination, a husky voice cuts through the air and makes you jump.

“Can’t sleep?”  Ace asks you, sitting on the ground leaning against the tent; as you turn to face him, you admire his tired and playful smirk, soaking in as much of him as you can without making your fascination with him too glaringly obvious.

You shake your head, returning his grin with a sleepy smile of your own.  “Too cold, ‘m trying to warm up.” you explain, motioning towards the slowly dying fire.  He nods, and eyes you up and down for a moment before opening his robe, exposing his deliciously sculpted chest and abs, and motioning for you to come closer.

“Are you serious?” you whisper, flustered and blushing at his invitation.  His smirk turns into a wolfish grin, and he nods.  The remnants of the fire’s warm orange light dance across his face, illuminating the wild and free-spirited nature radiating from his presence.

“C’mere, I’ll keep you warm.” he insists, gently tugging your wrist.  Yielding to his touch, you allow him to pull you down and into his arms; closing his robe around you, your back is flush against his chest.  A blush creeps into your cheeks as the abnormal heat of his skin leaves burning tingles through your fingers and toes, his embrace allowing you to finally relax your spine.

“That feel alright for you?” he asks softly, carefully warming his body with his devil fruit to make sure you were comfortable enough—he wanted you heated up and snug in his arms, but not sweating too much yet.

“Mhmmm…feels good.” you whisper contently, allowing yourself to nuzzle closer into his touch; the cozy, enticing feeling of drowning in Ace’s warmth makes any possible reservations about the embrace dissipate into the chilly desert wind.

“You like it hot, don’t ya’?” he teases, lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear.  Tresses of long, slick, black hair ghost over the sides of your neck, tickling the sensitive skin and sending your mind abuzz at the sensation of being so close to him.  “My kind of girl.”

His words leave you a flustered, blushing mess, unable to form a coherent response besides a content giggle—the way his charms are leaving you smitten is cute, and he makes sure you know it.

“It’s a shame I can’t stick around longer, I’d like to get to know ya’ better, you’re a real sweetheart.” he says, words hushed and rumbling through your ears, bringing a bright flush to your cheeks.  “My little brother is lucky to have you around to look after him and keep him out of trouble.”  His neck cranes around the side of your head and slightly chapped lips gently press against your temple, roughened and weathered from the harsh desert sun.

“Don’t let me fool you, we get into a bunch of trouble together too—we’re too silly for our own good.” you say softly, trying to control the way your body is reacting to his intimate gestures; you’re failing, breathing turning shaky as you feel the nearly phantom touch of his lips ghosting along the apple of your cheek.  Hesitant to read too deeply into a bit of cheeky flirting, you tell yourself that he’s just being sweet—nothing more; however, the way his head is nestled into the crook of your neck, gentle smile radiating into your skin, overwhelms your senses and makes your heart flutter.

“I like that about ya’ too.  You’re a fun little ball of sunshine.” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses into your collarbone as he squeezes you tighter.  Nuzzling into his touch, he chuckles quietly as his warm, heated fingers start to roam, tracing lines up and down your arms first, before moving to grip your waist.  “Plus, you’re filthy cute—but you know that, don’t you?” he whispers, teasingly; the husky timbre of his voice leaves you craving more.  His tattooed arm loops around your waist, while the other dips downward along your lower torso; his motions are slow but intentional as he squeezes a handful of your plush thigh and drags his fingers upward, grinning at the way you sigh in frustration when he pulls his hand away.

“Better move this to my tent before I can’t help myself and give it to you out here.” he whispers, hooking an arm around your legs, lifting you effortlessly, and pulling you into his small tent nearby, slightly further away from the others.  Two harsh pulls of a zipper cut through the crisp air—the first is the closure of the tent that wraps the two of you in a blanket of privacy; the second is him fiddling with the fly of his pants as he hastily tries to get them off with one hand.  The other is threaded through your hair, dying to feel as much of you as he could at once.  Tongues twirling together and breathy moans reverberating against each other’s mouths, you’re both starving—for touch, for intimacy, and for the heated, tantalizing way your lips slide against each other.

A lewd smack echoes on the canvas walls of the tent as your lips reluctantly pull apart, a string of saliva keeping you tethered together.  “Get on top for me, baby.” he murmurs, shimmying out of his long cargo shorts that were already halfway off and sitting down beside you.  Eyes glimmering with lust, you pounce at the opportunity and shed your own layers of clothing; Ace watches you, mesmerized, and spits in his hand as he strokes himself to your naked form. 

His free hand reaches out to gently grip your waist and pulls you towards him.  Breath hitching as you straddle him and drag the head of his cock along your folds, he resists the urge to succumb to his impatience and push himself into you all at once—imagining the sharp cry you’d let out as he fills you up makes his cock twitch against you.  Instead, he holds out as you sink onto him, pupils blown out as he watches your walls envelop him; you’re gorgeous as you take him in, back arching, head thrown back and eyes closed as you try to control your breathing as you adjust to his length.

Palms hot as they grip your hips, he grinds your hips against his, guiding you towards finding the right way to drag your clit against him as you ride.  Smoothly settling into a rhythm, you find the right set of movements that makes your head dizzy and leaves you breathless; Ace’s hands start to roam upward, splaying across your breasts and drowning you in tantalizing warmth as his thumbs softly circle your nipples.

“Right there…” he says, voice husky and dripping with lust as he watches you dip into a state of hazy pleasure and delirium, “Get yourself off for me.”  Sloppy, wet sounds intensify with each rock of your hips, swiftly building towards your climax.  Tingles and pins and needles spread through your body as you get close, flush rushing towards your cheeks as your hips snap desperately against him.  Face buried in his neck, you whimper and gasp, choking back more the intense and incriminating sounds that are clawing at your throat.  Locks of his hair find themselves sticking to the side of your face—slightly greasy, damp with sweat, and scented with ash and soot, you can’t help but inhale sharply to take more of him into your lungs.

“Ace, ‘m so close…” you sigh, heat pooling in your cheeks as your words trail off into a strangled gasp.  One of his hands trails down your side and rocks your hips closer into him, giving you the friction you need to make the tightly wound coil snap; mind buzzing and blank, your walls clamp around him as a chorus of lewd sounds fall off your lips.  Ace gives you no mercy, continuing to grind your hips against his through your orgasm, intent on stretching it out as long as possible.

“That’s right baby, cream all over my cock…” he whispers in your ear before biting down on your neck and sucking softly, earning him a moan from you in response. 

Relentless as he gives it to you, his grip on you is firm as he takes control, grasping your hips and bouncing you along his cock.  Still limp and twitching from your high, you’re like a ragdoll in his hands as he fills you up with a punishing pace, unable to do anything but whine and beg for him to give you even more.

“Such a good girl, you take me so well…” he growls, his previous smirks and grins replaced with unwavering and intense focus as he drags your soaked pussy along his length.  Tight and warmer than he could ever dream of, he hopes you’re feeling just a fraction of the flames coursing through his veins as he pounds you so hard that you start grabbing and scratching at his back, babbling nonsense into his collarbone.

And perhaps you feel it even more; your whole body is on fire as his thrusts grow even faster still, and you feel his thighs tense.  As he spills into you, his cum is hot, creamy, and leaves you sighing with pleasure as you feel it mix with the sticky pool of arousal that had completely coated both of your thighs.  Panting and out of breath, he stares at you, eyes half-lidded as he catches his breath; as he regains his senses and his beating heart begins to slow, he pulls you in for a deep kiss as he pulls out of you.

“That warm you up enough?” he asks cheekily as he reaches for a towel out of his bag to clean you up with.

“Might still need to be held a bit, ‘m not ready to brave the cold alone just yet.” you reply with a hopeful grin as you watch him slip into his sleeping bag and pull a blanket on top.

“Good—‘m not ready to let you go yet either.” he says with a smirk, pulling you close against him underneath the covers.

#one piece x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace x y/n #ace x y/n #one piece smut #one piece scenario #x reader #mdni #one piece fanfiction #i was so feral writing this you dont even understand

[mischiefmanagers]

Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️‍🔥

these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

here in your arms. 💞

like you wanna be loved 💞

by @acourtofmenandthirst

The Fox & The Hound 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥

In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

Great Rite 🔥

The Prince of Blood

by @profound-imagination

Finding Home 💞

Rose Gardens

by @munsons-hellfire

Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞

by @sweetcarolina-24

Scorched Shadows

by @azrielbrainrot

Fire on Fire

Mind Over Matter 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Rescue 💞🥀

Fake Sleeper 💞

Peace 💞

Seekers 💞🌼

Did You Just Say No?

Song of Death

Starfall Revelations 🥀💞

Guilt 🥀💞

Kisses 💞

by @redbleedingrose

Till the End of Time 💞🥀

Pretty? 🥀💞

by @b0xerdancer-writes

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞

by @thisblogisaboutabook

Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥

by @azsazz

Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞

Fire & Water 🥀🔥

by @honeybeefae

Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼

Forgotten Ties 🥀

Valentine's Mini Fic 💞

A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀

Past and Present 🥀💞

Coronation Day 💞

Potions 🔥🌼

by @we-were-beautiful

The Fox and the Hounds 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

My little flame 💞

Her 🌼

My tears ricochet 🥀

by @2thestars-andbeyond

The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥

by @simkaswriting

What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?

by @jeannineee

Daylight 🥀💞

Breeding 🔥

by @jdeclerc

a brother's intervention 🥀

by @azrielsdove

Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @fieldofdaisiies

Late Again 🥀

Brother 🥀💞 no pairing

Falling 💞🌼

by @azrielsoulmate

Covered in you 💞

by @cupidojenphrodite

Morning After 🔥

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Loose Lips 🥀🔥

by @thelov3lybookworm

Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader

Bloodshed 🥀💞

Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼

by @fineghkst

How Eris acts around his mate 💞

by @ladyescapism

fractured bonds 🥀

by @clairebear08

Woven 🥀

Use Me 🔥

by @historiaxvanserra

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼

I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem

by @shadowdaddies

Autumn's Eden 💞

Bramble 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Fake love. 🥀

by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine

Sweet Nothings 💞🌼

by @readychilledwine

Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼

Safe Haven 💞

Relief

Unconditional 💞

Leap 💞🌼

Kissed By Fire

Lapcat 🔥

Pack Mentality 💞

Tainted Love 🥀

by @throneofsmut

Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥

by @parkerslatte

Overlooked 🥀🌼

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

by @prythianpages

Like An Angel 💞

Cruel, Wicked Thing

by @saphirered

Frozen lake 🔥💞

by @thehighladywrites

Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥

by @thevanserrras

Breaking Point 🥀

Den of Foxes 🥀💞

Happy Equinox at Last 💞

Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

Petty 🥀💞

by @secret-third-thing

Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing

by @nocasdatsgay

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

by @lucienforhighking

Hounds of Love 💞

Dancing 💞🔥

by @callmeblaire

when fire and ice dance

by @moonlightazriel

Symphonies 💞

When no one hears your calls 🥀💞

by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic

Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @serpentandlily

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼

Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼

by @fever-fluff

Unconditional

by @yearning-for-autumn

Would That I

#eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fic #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x azriel #azris #eris x azriel #azriel x eris #azriel x reader #lucien vanserra #rhysand x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x oc #azriel x you #acotar #eris vanserra fic recs #eris angst #eris fic recs #eris vanserra smut #acotar fic recs #azriel #rhysand #vanserra brothers #eris vanserra angst #azriel x reader x eris #eris smut

[utterlyotterlyx]

Moth To A Flame

Summary - Azriel has a new friend in the form of a diary to talk to, and you are completely enchanted to find out exactly what they talk about.

Warnings - F L U F F F F F F F F F F, pining, wholesome all round

Word Count - 4.1k

Based on this ask

Winter Solstice was a magical time of year, one that had become even more meaningful with the additions of your ever-expanding family.

Before Feyre, it had just been you decorating the house and instructing Cassian to help you, scolding him when he would inevitably pop open a bottle of wine and find a nice couch to perch on whilst he barked unhelpful comments in your direction. The only good thing about Cassian's laziness was that Azriel would always show up to help you, whether that be resting his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you strung up the garlands, or getting on a ladder himself to reach the higher points that were beyond your reach, he was always there to assist.

Since Feyre, you were gifted with a band of women who wanted to help, Feyre reached the highest corners of the room, Elain made fresh garland rings from whatever she could find in the gardens of Velaris, and Nesta was meticulous in the placement of all of the decorations. Wine flowed and music played, and your heart had never felt so full and content.

That solstice had marked Nyx's fourth year within your special little family, and each year, the gifts had become more extravagant for the little one.

You had opted to stay in that morning and skip the annual snowball fight, choosing to watch it from the window with Elain as you both spent the morning preparing the meal you were going to feed to three huge Illyrian bats a few hours from then. Lucien had also opted to stay behind, his reason being to make sure that your wine glasses stayed full which earnt him a teasing glare from Azriel before his eyes flickered to you in silent conversation.

Snow floated down softly from the skies and you watched with a quiet giggle as you noticed Nyx reaching his little limbs upward to the sky in Feyre's arms, grasping at the flakes that were just in reach for him to capture. Then your watchful eye moved to Azriel, the male you were so irrevocably in love with who had no idea of your affections.

It was odd, for Azriel, a male who dreamed of a mate so badly, of real true love, to not see what had always been right in front of him. Though you had to give it to him, you weren't exactly forthcoming with your feelings in fear of being rejected.

Presents had been neatly arranged in piles, thanks to Lucien, and you had made sure to make everyone aware that each person had a certain coloured wrapping paper, you had told them it would make life easier since the family was too big now to spend time reading labels. Rhys had rolled his eyes at you, but pecked your cheek with a smirk at your usual perfectionist antics before agreeing and stalking off to make sure it was imperative to your plans that they do as told.

Life hadn't always been so perfect.

You had come from nothing, no family or title were bestowed to you, and you had unfortunately found yourself being sold to the Illyrian camps to entertain the males there before Rhys and his brothers had found you and taken you in. There was something about you that captivated them, and the more time they spent with you, getting to know you, the more they fell in love with everything that you were. Kind. Selfless. Loyal. Fierce. Their family wouldn't feel nearly as complete without you in it.

Azriel had smirked when they had re-entered the house, basking in the glow of another victory whilst you barked the exact place where they all needed to sit in front of their towering piles of presents. You had gone overboard again, you always did every year, showering them all in gifts which you never expected to be returned. That was the gift of you, all you wanted was for everyone else to be happy.

The house smelt divine. Baked chestnuts and cranberries, pine and candied oranges, and whatever honey you had put on the meat. All of their mouths were salivating at the thought of sitting down at that table and turning into feral beasts at the platter you had spent weeks planning and preparing.

A seamlessly planned gap had been created, a perfect moment for you all to sit down together and open your gifts before you bolted back into the kitchen and ordered Rhys to keep your wine topped up. It was the least he could do after all.

Your pile was nestled between Azriel and Mor's separate towers, the space on the deep seated sofa between them left free for you also. Azriel's eyes roamed your figure as you dipped into the kitchen and returned with a fresh glass of red wine, your bare feet padded along the floor and the short silver chrome dress that you had chosen to wear swayed with each step, grazing against your naked thighs.

Azriel thought that you were absolute perfection, to pure for their world, too pure for him to foolishly believe that he stood a chance with you.

Your scent drifted past him as you shimmied through the gap between his knees and the table, molten caramel apples and basil, a smell he could scent from any place he stood, no matter how far or near he was from you.

All of the piles were as you had ordered, in specific coloured papers, and the beaming smile on your face made all of the hassle of running about town worth it.

Everyone began opening their gifts in turn. Mor had flung her arms around you when she had opened a glittering red floor length dress that you had custom made for her. Feyre was beyond happy at the paintbrushes that you had inscribed her name into, Nesta was thrilled with her books, and Elain's bright eyes sifted through the cookbooks and ornate garden tools you had imported from Dawn. Another jewel for the firedrake and she was content, Cassian was audibly grateful for the armour you had gotten him which held a bit for flare than his current leathers, with golden sockets for his siphons which melted into the taut black leather of the skin.

Azriel shouldn't have been surprised when you went as far as to import delicacies from the Spring Court for Lucien, an assortment of baked goods and herbs that almost brought a tear to his eye. You knew how much Lucien missed being able to have a home, and you knew that Spring was the closest thing to a home he had ever had bar Elain.

Rhys howled in laughter when he unwrapped his matte black lint roller with a violet handle, promising to use it often before opening his real gift, a piece of art you had commissioned of himself, Feyre and Nyx at Starfall a year prior, covered in stardust and smiling brightly. Thoughtful as always.

Then you turned to Azriel, noticing he had opened most of his gifts apart from the ones that were clearly from you by the state of the perfectly wrapped edges and cobalt blue ribbons. He felt your eyes on him, pools of adoration he always found himself searching for, and he met your gaze as you handed him a small square box that rested in his palm.

Unwrapping it, navy velvet welcomed his eye and he looked at you with a small frown, listening to your silent urge to open it to find a thin onyx leather bracelet with a hot white glass pendent at its centre. The light swirled and danced like it was alive, growing more active as he inspected it. "What is it?"

Smiling, you took the bracelet from the box and secured it around his wrist, your touch alone sending electricity coursing through his veins, "I've been experimenting with my power," you told him softly as the room continued unphased in its own conversation like neither of you existed, "It's a piece of my soul," your fingers rested on his wrist and he felt his heart thump in his chest, "It's just so you know that you know I'm with you to light the way whenever you need it."

Azriel exhaled with disbelief, feeling unworthy of such a gift. A piece of your soul. So that you would always be with him.

"Y/N," he breathed, "This is- Thank you," he would give anything to be able to lean forward and capture your lips in his, but instead he restrained himself and reached for your own gift from him in your pile, wrapped in shiny silver paper with intricate embellishments of flower petals.

You hadn't opened a single gift yet, too entranced in everyone else to take a moment for yourself, but you obliged the man you adored so much and ripped open the paper that encased a long box.

Opening it, your eyes widened as you took in the blade in your fingers, an exact match to Truthteller but with a hilt of diamonds and beautifully forged embellishments, "I realised that you didn't have your own, I hope you never have to use it but just thought you'd like one," your stunned silence made him fidget with his fingers and he watched you carefully pick the blade up and turn it in your hands, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," it was beautifully lethal, just like you, "Thank you, Az. Really."

The afternoon continued and you couldn't stop glancing to the open lidded box on the table as you sat nestled under Azriel's wing, sipping from your wine as he opened his last gift, from Nesta, who was busy placing the new hairpins you had gotten her into her staple coronet. Azriel tore open the paper and tilted his head, looking up at the eldest Archeron sister who raised a brow and smirked, "It's a diary, Az. People use them to write down their thoughts and feelings, some people draw in them," you snorted at the condescension in her tone to which Azriel nudged your knee playfully before thanking her and thus wrapping up the present exchange.

It had shaped up to be the most perfect solstice any of you had ever seen.

In the weeks that followed solstice, the snow melted away to give new life to the earth below, and the sun peeked out from the mountains to cascade Velaris in its heavenly glow.

During those weeks, you noticed a subtle change to Azriel, how he would fly away at dusk with his diary secured to his side, to only return an hour or so later seeming lighter and more determined. The subtle changes and the increases of his affection only made you more intrigued to find out exactly what he was writing in that book.

He had caught you far too many times tiptoeing into his bedroom, curtly telling you with a smirk that the diary was nowhere to be seen before pecking your forehead and sending you on your way.

Azriel had been much more attentive since solstice, he rarely took off the bracelet that you gave him, and you liked to think that the glow of your soul coaxed him into sleep, a thing you knew he struggled with often. Even Rhys had told you that Azriel had left his door open one night, only slightly ajar, but enough to Rhys to see him reaching to the ceiling and looking longingly at the pendent which contained your essence atop his pulse.

It was frustrating for your family to see it, to see your mutual pining but watch the other be clueless to it. Azriel had brought you flowers, brought back trinkets from his travels, he would brush up behind you and allow his shadows to feather across your lower back, he'd even cooked for you, something no one had ever seen before. Then there was you, giving a literal piece of your soul to the male, and even that wasn't enough for Azriel to see how in love with him you were.

"I'm calling it," Cassian panted as he rested on the stone pillar of the training ring beside Nesta, watching Azriel jog to catch up with your retreating form and his shadows drawling over your shoulder, "They're mates. They have to be."

"You're too late to that bet," Nesta quipped, wrapping her mate's hands up tighter in the leather straps, "We've all put money in, we bet on how long it would take for them to realise and for the bond to snap."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

Nesta scowled playfully, "You'd cheat," she prodded his armoured chest with her finger, "It has to be natural. They deserve that much."

Weeks ticked by and the group were getting restless, even Nesta, who was stubborn to let the pining play out, was getting annoyed.

Nesta knew exactly what Azriel wrote about in his diary each day, he wrote of you, she had caught a glimpse of a passage when he had stupidly left his diary in the library one night and he had sworn her to secrecy since then, but also sought her out to speak about you, about what he should do.

And Nesta no longer saw a problem in nudging him in the right direction.

"Is she still sniffing around your diary?" Nesta had asked, they were splayed across the seating area in the River House whilst you and Mor had disappeared to Rita's for the evening.

Your essence glowed on his wrist, he heard the whispers of your voice emit from it and sighed with a faint smile on his lips, "Everyday," he told her, looking upward at the ceiling and wondering what you were doing in that moment, "She's too good for me, Nes."

Humming in disagreement, Nesta sat up and craned her neck to look at her friend who was clearly thinking of the woman dancing the night away in the centre of Velaris, "Azriel," she deadpanned, "Y/N gave you a piece of her soul so that she would always be with you. Show her what you wrote. I assure you it can only go in the way you want it to."

Hint? No. Spelling it out for the dumb Illyrian? Yes.

Realisation hit him and he bolted upright, he gathered his diary in his fingers and raced upstairs, stumbling past a confused Cassian who stared after his brother before turning to his mate, mouth full of one of the cupcakes you and Elain had baked that morning with wide eyes and a accusatory tone muffling his words, "You cheated!" Crumbs flew from his mouth and Nesta flipped him off.

"You know the money is ours right?"

Cassian flopped down beside her with a grin, "I knew there was a reason why I loved you."

Painful throbs growled at the balls of your feet as you walked up the path to the house with your heels stabbing at your thigh. Intoxication hadn't found you but you still had an amazing time dancing the hours away with Mor and Feyre, giggling and talking about men until you were all talked and danced out.

Golden firelight greeted you, and your dreary eyes scanned the room to find Azriel sat before the fire but turned toward the door where you stood in a floor length black dress, with two long slits that kissed your mid thigh and a plunging neckline held up by two thin ropes.

Azriel's hair was tousled, his hazel eyes were warm pools that beckoned you to dive in, his skin was golden and glowing in the light, and he sat there with a look of wonderment that you had never seen before.

"Az? Are you alright?" You closed the door behind you and made you way over to him, noticing his neck crane to keep his focus on your face as you approached him.

Azriel had pulled the table toward him and a familiar black leather bound book lay open on the table in front of him, "Come here," his voice was low but soft, pleading but not commanding, he patted the space beside him and you sank down into it, "I wanted to show you something. I know I've been hiding this from you, but I want you to see it now."

The book was soon in your hands, and closed, the thing you had been after for so long, "Are you sure?" The idea of his diary in your hands felt wrong, like a delicious invasion of privacy.

"More sure than I've ever been," he nodded downward, giving you the permission you needed to open it.

The pages were filled with words and charcoal sketched, and you took a moment to flick through the filling book before you focused on certain pages.

Bright eyes, unbound hair, and a toothy smile greeted you over a two page spread, your eyes followed the curves of black, and you gasped when you noticed what, or who, you were looking at. It was you. Azriel had drawn you on the pages of the diary Nesta had gifted him. In the time he had disappeared at dusk to be alone with his thoughts, he had chosen to let them wander to you.

You looked to him and noted how he had shuffled closer to you, the warmth of wing draping over your smaller form and his shadows dancing across your shoulders.

"I think in a way this diary is for you," he urged you to carry on, watching carefully as you flipped through to the beginning and scanning the words he had littered on the pages.

To anyone else, they were just a bunch of randomly littered words across the page, a waterfall of sayings and phrases that had come from your lips. Words and phrases that you said often enough for Azriel to take the time to write them down.

On the next page was two lists, one of the things you loved and another of the things you hated with small scribbled beside certain ones depicting when exactly Azriel had noticed.

Flicking through, it dawned on you that the entire diary was full of you, your jokes and mannerisms, the things that made you laugh, passages of your favourite poetry, drawings of you.

"Az, I-"

"Keep going."

So you did, you kept flipping the pages, allowing your fingers to graze against his written word as you read through his thoughts until you reached one page in particular.

Y/N,

I may never have the courage to tell you how I feel, and maybe writing it down will give me the courage to let you finally see what I have been hiding.

I tried to remember the day when everything in my life began to make sense. I went so long feeling lost and alone, of feeling destined to a life of solitude, and then you happened. You brought a joy to my life, to all of our lives, that we didn't know we were missing. I don't think you realise just how amazing you are.

I am in love with you, Y/N.

When you're around I know everything is going to be alright, and when I'm away, all I think about is you. I look at that damn bracelet all of the time, hoping that it was just some thoughtful gift, but a sign of something more. You are fluent in me, you speak my language in ways that even I cannot, and I can't walk this earth without you by my side. I refuse.

I may not tell you everyday that you mean the world to me but you do. The day you entered my life, even when you were petrified, you changed my life into something so beautiful and meaningful, you make me feel seen. I may not be the first man in your life but I intend to be the last, I intend to be the only one who can make you feel loved to your core.

There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I will love you in your weakest moments and brightest of days, I will love you when you don't love yourself, I will love you even when you don't want me to, I will love you until the earth swallows me and even then I will follow you to the next life. There is nothing on this earth that can take me from you, not even death can force us apart.

Between universes, oceans and moons, I am so lucky that I got to step onto the same land and dream under the same stars as you; and I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of any reality, I would find you and I would choose you.

I love you, Y/N. I'll write it and say it as many times as you need me to, whether that be verbal or not, in whatever way you need me to say it, I will.

You have me, until the last star in the galaxy perishes, you have me.

You didn't realise that you were crying until you saw your tears splatter onto the page. In an instant, Azriel was cupping your face in the hands that only you found comfort in, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks as he felt your longing and love flow through him.

Felt your longing and love flow through him.

Azriel tensed, his eyes went wild and wide as he searched your soul for a sign for anything to confirm what he had just felt pang in his chest. The pressure was building and his actions confused you, he was panting, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.

You reached for him, resting your fingers over his heart and feeling the world flip on its axis at the singular contact, energy exploded around your forms, white oceanic waves rippling with intertwining shadow, shrouded in a golden shimmer.

The sight was beautiful, so beautiful that it stole your attention and you watched as your essences danced with one another, and his shadows rallied to join in the celebration. Azriel's breath was warm against your cheek and you tore your gaze away from the display above your heads to meet his tearful eyes.

"We're mates," his voice was soft, so gentle, and he ran his fingers down the side of your face, sighing with a smile when you nodded.

"Nesta is going to be thrilled that she won the bet."

Azriel threw his head back and laughed, tears of pure happiness spilling from the corners of his eyes as he fell back to your level, "Bet?"

"They all betted on how long it would take us to realise that we love each other. They thought I didn't know."

"Beautiful smart creature," Azriel purred to you and you felt a blush creep to your cheeks, a blush that was soothed by his shadows curling over it, he slowly closed the gap between you, his lips hovering just before your own. "How rude of us to keep them waiting."

Azriel noticed your line of sight flicker between his eyes and downward at his lips, "Extremely," you breathed and Azriel wasted no time in pulling your face toward him and connecting your lips in something that could only be described as universe shifting, like the entire galaxy was holding a collective breath and watching you fall into one another.

There was a hunger behind it as his tongue danced with your own, you felt those golden threads snap into place, you heard the string connecting your souls hum in appreciation and yearning for what was no doubt going to occur behind closed doors.

Just as Azriel was about to scoop you into his arms and take you somewhere more private, a shuffle of feet and a groan sounded by the stairs.

Pulling apart, you saw Cassian stood there with giddy eyes, "GUYS! NESTA WON!"

The house and its inhabitants collectively snarled, "FUCK!" Rhys cursed from somewhere upstairs followed by Nesta's victorious chuckle whilst Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you both, you buried your head into Azriel's chest to contain your red cheeks.

Azriel shrouded you with his wings, forcing you to look up at him, "Let's get out of here? I'd like a night alone with my mate."

"Say it again."

"Mate," he kissed you, "My perfect, incredible mate," he mumbled onto your lips with a smirk, cradling you to his chest and growling at Cassian for whatever crude remark he had made before soaring into the sky with you pressed to his chest with plans to make you his over and over again.

Authors Note

Got a little carried away but this has given me life x

I'm drafting the next parts to some of my series tonight for tomorrow, what do we want prioritised? New Pages? A Fate Inked In Starlight? Can't Keep My Hands To Myself? When I Kissed The Teacher?

Let me know x

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #azriel x reader #cassian #rhysand #mor acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #nesta x cassian #nesta #amren #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #rhys acotar #acotar oneshot #acotar fluff #azriel fluff #azriel fic

[klemen-tine]

White Whale Part 2

Platonic! Yandere Batfam x Deaf!Male Reader

A continuation of this one.

https://www.tumblr.com/klemen-tine/736839222321922048/white-whale

Thoughts

Sign/Morse Code

Speaking

Trigger Warnings: Disability Discrimination and a mention of suicidal thoughts. Its like on sentence.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/N sat near the window, his processors off and a book on his lap. His attention was drawn to the snow falling outside and covering the ground in white, watching Damian walk Titus around the yard to experience the frozen water. Not like the giant dog hasn’t walked in snow before. 

He pressed his forehead against the glass, feeling the freezing melted sand press against his skin and without a doubt making it red. His tan was slowly fading, which made him all the more depressed whenever he looked in the mirror, now resulting in him wearing long sleeves in the hopes that he wouldn’t have to see it fade faster. His finger running down the spine of his book over and over again, tracing over the embroidered words and his short fingernail picked at the strings. 

Y/N pulled away from the window, before Damian could see him, and he set To Kill a Mockingbird down on the lamp table beside the small nook near the window. It was his secret little stowaway, one Y/N knows that if they wanted to, his family could find it easily. There is nowhere in this manor that is unable to be discovered by them. He thinks Alfred is helping in keeping this spot a secret. Assuring the bat family that Y/N is safe and there is no need to tear apart the library to look for him. 

All the windows in the library are sealed besides three, and those have sensors on them. Even if they didn’t, Y/N wasn’t stupid. He knows that those trackers he had dug out from his body are back in him. There is one in his inner thigh, deep enough that if he were to take the same scalpel he used the first time, the chance of nicking his artery was a higher possibility than he felt was worth risking. 

Sometimes, when he presses down on the soft skin, he could feel the cold metal sear his muscles and capillaries, reminding him of his captivity without the chains. 

Y/N connected his external processors, and winced when the world began to make noise. There was the buzz of some lightbulbs the hummed in the air and the heater was making a thrumming noise. Before his ‘trip’ to the Dominican Republic, Y/N would have thought that this was quiet. He would have believed that this was almost silent and there was little chance of it becoming any more quiet. 

Now it was just loud. Obnoxiously so. 

Looking out the window once more, Y/N couldn’t help the turn of his eyebrows and the downturn in his lips. Even his safe place felt like a cage. 

Walking out of the room, he zigzagged through the bookshelves and into the main room, where the large couches, the fireplace, and coffee table are. The fire was crackling and popping, the bright oranges, reds, and yellows casting a warm glow on the sofas. 

“I was wondering when you’d come out.” Y/N didn’t even look at Tim, his gaze still on the flames and the burning embers of the fire. It matched  the heat that was beginning to burn in his chest whenever he was around any of them. It’s embarrassing, but it took Y/N a few days to realize what exactly it was he was feeling towards them. 

Anger. Y/N was so, undeniably, pissed at all of them. It got to the point that he wouldn’t even eat with them. Alfred, the kind man he is, would bring his meals to his room and Y/N would eat there. Dick once tried to drag Y/N out of his room, but he got a solid kick to his leg and Y/N’s enraged voice screeching at him to get the hell out of his room. 

Even Jason was receiving the cold shoulder. When he tried to read to Y/N, taking their usual spot and position, Y/N just scrunched his nose and moved. Ignoring his twin’s call and slamming his door hard and  loud enough that it made his processors ring. 

Tim sighed, watching his brother stew and brew like a shaken pepsi bottle, ready to erupt with words that will stick to the skin. Y/N didn’t acknowledge him, his jaw clenching and nose scrunching, before he turned away and left the library. Tim stood up and followed him, jamming his foot in between the door and the door frame to stop Y/N from shutting him out. 

“Go. Away.” Tim pushed into the door, and even though he and Y/N are about the same size, Tim is Red Robin. A vigilante used to put down villains twice his size and three times his weight. Y/N is just… Y/N. He muscled through, inviting himself within Y/N’s room which he took a scan of. 

The window was closed, the bed was made, the desk clean, and the laptop locked. When he had gotten back, his laptop had been installed with monitoring software, allowing everyone access from the Batcomputer to see what Y/N was doing. His phone had been given the same thing, only the child settings were enabled. His bags, duffle, suitcases, backpacks, all of them had been taken and if he ever needed them then he would need to go to Bruce. 

If Y/N had anything to say, he didn’t share it. When it was all explained to Y/N, he wasn’t even looking at them, or Bruce, and instead was staring out the window. Damian believed that the other didn't even listen to them, but the lack of questions proved he had heard them. 

“We really need to talk, Y/N.” 

“No, go away. I don’t want you in my room.” Tim sighed, watching Y/N seethe in front of him. He held firm, “I will leave, once we talk.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “About what? There is nothing to talk about.” Those raging E/C eyes followed Tim’s every move in his space, and if it were any other time, Tim would have been thrilled to have Y/N’s attention on him. Those eyes focused only on him. 

Tim sat on the chair in front of Y/N’s desk, ignoring Y/N’s scandalized expression and instead taking in the desk. All of Y/N’s writing tools, journals, pens, and markers have been confiscated. Instead, he only had the iPad to write down his thoughts and notes for when school starts. An iPad that is monitored. 

Y/N seemed to accept that Tim would not be leaving, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Scrunching his nose, he disconnected the processors, pulled them off of his head, and debated about chucking them at his brother. He tossed them on his bed. He saw Tim deflate from the corner of his vision, and when those E/C eyes filled with irritation and smugness met Tim’s blue eyes, Y/N couldn’t help the vindictive smirk that formed on his face. 

‘Bruce wants you to keep those on.’

“What do you want, Tim? If you have nothing good to say then get out, I want to nap.” Tim nodded, adjusting himself so he had space to sign. 

‘How long are you going to keep pouting?’ Y/N’s face scrunched and he stared at Tim in disbelief. Not in disbelief that he said that, but disbelief in that that was what he wanted to say at this point in time. He could feel a headache forming and the rage building in his chest to the back of his throat. The words scorching the sensitive skin and making him feel as if he was about to catch fire. 

“I tell you to have something ‘good’ to say, and that’s what comes out of your mouth? Get out, Tim.” His brother stayed in the chair, and Y/N marched over and grabbed the collar of Tim’s shirt. Which, if he had a clearer mind, Y/N would have not done that. It only allowed for Tim to grab his wrist and maneuver them so that it was Y/N who was pinned. 

Icy blue eyes stared into boiling E/C eyes. Tim sighed, releasing Y/N so he can sign, ‘It is getting out of control, Y/N. I can understand a month, but you are pushing three.’ 

“You can’t tell me how to feel or how long I can feel it.” Tim looked ready to throttle him, and Y/N hoped that Tim rolled his eyes enough that they got stuck like that. 

‘Y/N, just what was so important about that shack that is keeping you acting like this?’ Y/N pushed Tim, startling his younger brother and if he was calmer, Y/N would also be startled. He’s never been a violent person, choosing to look away when things got bloody in a movie or show. However, the spike of rage and aggravation he felt towards Tim and the situation had made his body move before he could really process it.  

He glared at Tim with a new rage, and now he had wished he had thrown those external processors as the so-called genius. He balled his fist, “It wasn’t the shack! It wasn’t the ocean, it wasn’t the country, for fucks sake Tim, it wasn’t even then whales!” Y/N reached across his desk and threw a copy of Alice in Wonderland at the other. 

He ignored the annoyance when Tim caught it. 

“It wasn’t any of that! It was what you all took away! It wasn’t the sun, it wasn’t the outside, it was the ability to make my own decisions!” Tears burned Y/N’s eyes and he wondered just how many nights he spent crying and wishing for a chance to escape. 

“Why… why am I the only one who doesn’t have any say in how I want to live me life?” Tim set the book down on Y/N’s bed, and walked closer. Y/N stepped away, “Why am I the one who is held here like some kind of… prisoner when everyone else can go and–and do what they want?” 

Tim’s heart broke, ‘No, no Y/N. You’re not a prisoner, we just want you safe and the safest place is here.’ Y/N gave him a look of exhaustion and disappointment, “What else is this then? Where else are people monitored to this extent?” Prison. Hell, Arkham doesn’t even have this level of monitoring and Gotham’ worst and craziest people were there. 

Y/N knows that all of this is done out of some sick and twisted form of love, but if this was love then Y/N wanted no part of it. 

“Y/N,” Tim winced. He didn’t feel bad about what they have done for Y/N, but he did feel bad that it was somewhat affecting Y/N like this. It wasn’t their intention for Y/N to feel trapped, but Y/N just doesn’t get it. The world is mean, cruel, and horrible to those who don’t fit in. Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Bruce, the entire Bat clan knows this because they are the ones out there and witnessing this. 

They all know just how awful this world can be, so why would they not want to protect Y/N from it? 

“Dinner is ready.” Tim’s attention snapped to the door, where Damian stood. Y/N’s attention also turned to Damian, and the boy softened under Y/N’s hurt gaze. 

‘Alfred made your favorite.’ Y/N wanted to bury his head in his hands. He didn’t want to read this conversation anymore. Pursing his lips, Y/N plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked out the barred window. 

“You say I am not a prisoner… then am I a pet?” He mumbled, his voice barely above a murmur. Damian moved further in the room, so Y/N can see his hands at least. 

‘Of course not. You are our most prized person.’ Damian didn’t see Y/N as a person. It is cruel to admit and he had almost been choked-out by Jason when he said it out loud. Y/N, in Damian’ eyes, was the Wayne’s family most prized possession. Next to the Batcave, the library, the Barmobile, and even Wayne Enterprises, Y/N stood next to and in front of it all. They could not function without him. 

Like every prized possession, like diamonds, sapphires, and jades, they wanted to protect him. They gave him the best care they could and the best security. The difference was that jewels don’t have opinions or a desire to roam the earth. Something Y/N did have, and Damian blames the books for that wanderlust. Specifically that Moby Dick book. 

When Jason took it from Y/N, Damian had to stop himself from throwing it in the fire. It was a first edition, the cover and binding still the same from when the book was first published, and if he looked closely he could see the faint line where Y/N has traced the spine of the book numerous times. Damian knows there is only one person in this world Y/N hates, which is the Joker, and Damian does not want to be added to the list should anything happen to that book. 

Still, it was tempting. 

Damian has read the book, and the lesson was as obvious as an East Gothamite amidst the upper echelon of Gotham. Damian knows what Y/N’s ‘white whale’ is, and he can’t help but to wonder why Y/N can’t draw the same conclusions like everyone else did. 

Just like the story, Y/N will drive himself crazy trying to obtain something that they will never allow. Diamonds, sapphires, and jades are always protected by glass cases and security systems. That is how Y/N should see this. 

‘Your safety is the most important thing.’ 

“More than my happiness?” Damian and Tim stared at Y/N with the answer clear in their eyes, but Y/N wanted to see them say it. He wanted to see them admit that they did not care for his happiness as long as he was trapped within these thick walls and gilded windows. 

‘You were happy before.’ Y/N sighed, “That is because it was an illusion.” E/C eyes, dull and lacking emotion, “Tell me Dami, how can I go back to that illusion when in the morning it is the sun’s reflections off the bars on the windows that wake me up? Or the feeling of those trackers in my body replacing the collar you all want to put around my neck?” 

++++

Bruce stared at the photo, taking in the smiles and the way those eyes used to shine. Y/N always had a great smile, full of his emotions and rarely ever fake. His eyes always the most expressive, and it is why Bruce found it easy to see when he was lying. 

Granted, in Y/N’s defense, he’s never had a real reason to lie before. He was open with everyone about his thoughts, opinions, and desires. Bruce made it that way. Bruce swaddled him in the comfort that only he and the family could provide in order to make it so Y/N would always rely on them for that. He made it so Y/N would never have to lie, or feel the need too. 

Then Y/N just had to get curious. Bruce doesn’t know who is to blame for this sudden defiance in Y/N, but he does put a lot of blame on those ocean documentaries. Even when he was young, Y/N always had a fascination for them. Watching them over and over again, reading the subtitles, memorizing them, so now he can just watch the documentaries while already knowing what is going on. 

His attention turned to the photo he had bought from that photographer in the Dominican Republic. Y/N was freediving and looking like he was in his element. 

Bruce didn’t feel bad for taking Y/N back, but he did feel bad about cutting a hobby short. There was denying that Y/N was a natural at this sport, and Bruce had always wanted to encourage each of his kids’ interest. 

But not this one. Not one that meant Y/N had to live far from them and was dangerous. At least with vigilantism, Batman was there in case anything turned south. There was no one in the water for Y/N in case something happened. Free diving is dangerous, and the ocean is unpredictable. Bruce can’t help Y/N if he goes free diving, especially if he goes alone. 

Sighing, Bruce rubbed his forehead and checked the surveillance cameras one more time. Y/N and Dick were in one of the study rooms. From what it looks like, Dick is trying to talk to Y/N who was standing next to the windows, looking away from the other. 

Perhaps, it’s about time Bruce steps in. Y/N hasn’t talked to him since the day Bruce grounded him, about two months ago and the other has done a great job in staying out of Bruce’s radar. The only time Bruce has seen Y/N in person is when he goes into Y/N's room at night after patrol to make sure that he is still there. A new fear unlocked that one night, when everyone is out and Alfred is asleep, Y/N will disappear once more. 

No one knows how Y/N got out that one night, and no matter how many questions were asked, Y/N never said anything. Damian had tried bargaining with him, telling him that if Y/N told them how he got out then some days of his grounding would be taken off. Y/N huffed, a bitter smile taking over his face. 

Bruce rose from his desk, shutting down his computer and leaving his own study. It is about time he and his son have a conversation. One sided or not. 

He walked over to the study room that Dick and Y/N were in. Halting before the door and listening to the voices coming from inside. 

“Y/N, I am telling you that no one is going to believe you after the stunt you pulled.” 

“But you will be with me. Dick, I just want to go to the beach. We did it all the time.”  

“Mmm, and look how that ended up.” 

“Me being happy for a few months.” 

“You’re still on that, Y/N?” Bruce opened the heavy doors, silencing the conversation and causing two sets of eyes to land on him. Dick was leaning against the desk, and Y/N had his back to the window. Both of their faces showed their surprise and confusion, until E/C eyes flickered to the ceiling and the corners of the room where he saw the cameras. Confusion became annoyance, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the window. 

Dick and Bruce made eye contact, and when Bruce nodded his head towards the door Dick didn’t fight it. He took the hint and walked out, sparing Y/N and Bruce one last look before shutting the large oak doors. 

Y/N refused to look at him. Bruce walked closer, behind the desk and next to Y/N, standing next to the window. 

“Y/N.” His son moved to pull out his external processors, but Bruce grabbed his wrists within his large hands, effectively stopping his son. Bruce set his jaw, “None of that, we need to talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Then listen.” Y/N scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, glaring at Bruce. The older man sighed, but held his grip on those thin wrists, noting that Y/N had stopped tugging his arms and was in fact waiting for Bruce to start talking, “I understand that you are upset, and that you are upset at us for meddling.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, his face slowly smoothening out and his lips no longer in a pout. 

Bruce sighed, releasing one of Y/N’s wrists to push aside his bangs. Gently brushing his son’s forehead and pushing the rest of the strand behind his ear, minding the processing unit resting behind Y/N’s ear. 

“And I know you’re aware that if you had asked, we would have said no.” Y/N’s lips pouted once more and his eyes became a little downcast. Sadness blanketing over him and Bruce felt a bit bad for revealing that, but Y/N knows it already. 

“Y/N, why are you insistent on wanting to be independent? There are millions of people in this world who still wish for their parent’s support, and thousands of people who would give up everything to have a life and opportunities that you have.” Y/N scrunched his nose, feeling guilt curl in his chest. 

He knows that he is lucky. Y/N is aware of how fortunate he is to have all that he has and then some. He knows that there are people in this world who would kill to have what he has. 

Yet, just like there are millions of people who want what he has, there are also millions of people who strive for their independence against their family. Millions of people who take pleasure in making choices that affect only them. Millions of people who don’t let their disabilities define their life, and learn to accept and live with them. 

“I am aware that I am fortunate, that my deafness has only been a part of my life instead of completely defining it,” Y/N acknowledged, turning his attention back to outside where it was beginning to snow. He ignored his reflection, not wanting to look at the weak person in front of him. 

“I am grateful for all you have done, along with Alfred and everyone else. No amount of ‘thank you’s’ will ever be enough. But Bruce–” Y/N turned his eyes once more to Bruce, E/C eyes meeting ocean blue, “– No amount of money or gadgets is going to deny the fact that I am deaf. 

“I am reliant on you all for a lot of things, and you raised me that way so that I can forever depend on you. Which… I know it wouldn't bother some people but it bothers me.” Y/N’s eyes shined with unshed tears, as if the very thought of having to rely on them was shameful. 

“I am not fragile, nor am I glass. I am from East Gotham, just like Jason.” Bruce is aware of that. Like every East Gothamite, the both of them had the stubbornness that made Bruce question if he had a lineage that tied him back to that part of town. Y/N is strong in his own ways, and stubborn in others. Bruce will agree on that. He will agree that Jason and Y/N are more like brothers than those Bruce has seen when blood related. 

However, Jason and Y/N are not the same. They were different pieces cut from the same cloth. Jason was shaped and molded to withstand the toughest and dangerous situations, to be durable and take a beating. 

Y/N was not molded like that. Y/N was refined and polished to be treated gently and kindly, to only know the kindest hands and gentlest of uses. 

“And I know that compared to the rest of you, I am weaker. I… I am not strong like you or Jason, I am not fast like Damian, nor am I as smart as Tim, or charismatic like Dick.” Bruce’s grip tightened on the one wrist he was still holding, wanting to deny everything Y/N had said because he hated hearing Y/N self-deprecating himself like that. Y/N is kinder than any of them, easier to talk to, and has almost the same amount of medical knowledge that Alfred has. 

Y/N is the normalcy they all crave for when they come back from a patrol or mission. He reminds them in the gentlest ways that they are human. They are not just vigilantes, not another person hiding behind a cowl, a cape, or a domino mask. He reminds them that they are brothers, friends, allies, a father (in Bruce’s case). 

“But just because of that, do you really have to control every part of my life? I wish you had more faith in me to let me go and learn to be strong on my own, just like you do with everyone else.” Y/N stared up at Bruce with a hurt expression, E/C eyes staring into Bruce’s blue eyes through those lashes that normally would be able to grant Y/N anything he wished. A simple bat of those lashes and eyes would have everyone running around trying to do as he wished. 

“Y/N–” 

“If you can’t trust me, at least trust yourself that you taught me well enough to be by myself.” But the thing is, is that Bruce doesn’t trust himself. He’s failed so many times and he fears that this one failure will be the one that breaks him. It’ll break the boys, the girls, Alfred, him. It’ll break everyone. 

Y/N doesn’t realize it, and Bruce wonders if it is because he doesn’t want to get it or he just doesn’t. He wonders if Y/N chooses not to see his importance in this family so the burden doesn’t feel as heavy. If anything should happen to Y/N, Bruce can’t guarantee the safety of Gotham anymore. He couldn’t guarantee the safety of his Robins, past and current. If Bruce couldn’t protect literally the easiest person to protect, then who was he to try and protect a city? 

Y/N, sensing Bruce’s hesitation and unease, tried to withdraw his hand from Bruce’s grip and shrug off the hand that was resting on his cheek. His hopes and wants crashing onto the carpeted floor, replacing his chest with anger and disappointment. He's been feeling those two emotions a lot lately. They are carving its way in his chest like it is their new home, and he wonders if it will be. Will he hold onto these feelings for the rest of his life as he stares out these large windows and reminisces what the sun felt like on his skin and the breeze through his hair. Does the biting cold still turn his nose and cheeks red, and does the heat and humid summers still make his freckles pop and skin gleam?

“...Forget it. I… it was stupid to ask that of you.” The raging inferno of anger died, filling his chest with the smoke of its fury and his stomach warm with the dying embers. A new emotion, one he is intimately familiar with, filled him instead. It is one he knows like the back of his hand, an emotion that is more of his identity than his deafness. 

Sadness. 

It is like a steady stream, filling the smoking cavity in his chest with cold water, putting out the embers and making that smoke turn to steam. Burning his muscles and organs with a painful sting, and filling his person with ice cold water instead of the burning fire. Y/N knows sadness. He knows the emotion well and sometimes it reminds him of a scar. Never truly gone, just sometimes forgotten. It sits at the back of the mind, hiding behind the good times, the happy emotions, until it is accidentally hit and it draws your attention. From there, it is no longer at the back of your mind, but all you can think about. 

Sadness, to Y/N, is like a scar that has marred its way across his face. Never forgotten and for the whole world to see, unless makeup and a smile is put on it. 

Y/N, in the basicness of emotions, is sad. He is hurt, upset, exhausted, and sad. 

“Leave me alone, Bruce.” Bruce’s grip tightened once more, and his jaw clenched. He’s finally got Y/N within his vicinity to talk, like hell he’s letting go. Y/N narrowed his eyes and pulled his arm, “Let go, Bruce.” 

He pulled again, “Bruce.” The man’s iron grip never waivered, and Y/N felt the air in his lungs begin to escape quicker than it could fill the organs. He brought his other hand up to try and peel those thick fingers off his wrist, but Bruce grabbed his other hand. 

“I still don’t understand why you would want to leave.” Y/N scrunched his nose, “If you can’t understand, even after I spelled it out for you, then maybe you should stop being a detective.” Bruce didn’t feel insulted or slighted at Y/N’s words, chalking it up to Y/N being upset still. 

“How can I make you want to stay here?” Y/N sighed, and Bruce could feel that fight leaving his son’s body. The tension in his arms disappeared. 

“How can I know that it is here that I am meant to be, when I haven’t been anywhere else?” Bruce opened his mouth, to which Y/N effectively cut him off, “East Gotham doesn’t count, and the Dominican Republic would have counted if you all hadn’t kidnapped me.” 

“We didn’t kidnap you.” Y/N gawked at him, and the fight returned, “You did kidnap me! Do you need a dictionary definition of what kidnapping is?! It is the unlawful abduction, aspiration and confinement of a person against their will!” 

“You. Live. Here.” Bruce gritted out and Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Well I don’t WANT to be here!” He snarled and tried once more to loosen Bruce’s grip on his wrists. 

“What is it with all of you NOT comprehending that?! No matter how you look at it, no matter what angle you try to take this from, Bruce. I am a prisoner within this manor!” Y/N glared at Bruce, “Just what did I do that warranted the surveilance, the trackers, the stupid god for fucking sake imaginary collar you all want me to have on?!” 

Bruce growled out, “You left when you are only meant to stay here. It is the consequences of your actions.” 

“I am not your property!” Y/N snarled, “ Nor am I a pet that you can keep chained and trapped in the house!” Bruce felt something snap within him and he released Y/N’s wrist and watched the other stumble from the sudden loss of support. 

Y/N righted himself, still glaring at the man. Bruce took a deep breath, “Fine.” 

“Huh?” 

“You want to try your luck out there, then go. I will give you an hour's head start.” Y/N stared at Bruce in suspicion, “What are you getting at?” Bruce made a show of adjusting his watch, “I will give you an hour, only one. If you can outrun us, out maneuver us, or outsmart us until sunrise, you can choose how your future plays out.” 

“‘Us?’” Bruce smiled, “All of us.” Y/N wanted to bite out a ‘not fair’ comment, but found a more pressing matter, “What about the trackers?” Bruce fished out his phone, and made a dramatic show of pressing some buttons, he then showed Y/N what appeared to be a small map, like a GPS, on his phone. 

“Turned off.” Y/N ignored the feeling of disgust seeing that his location was literally on their phones. 

“Start running Y/N, your hour has already started.” Y/N bolted out the study room, not looking back. 

Bruce stayed in the room, looking out the window as the sun began to set and the snow turned dark. Light footsteps entered the room, and Bruce could basically hear the eyebrow raise, “Not now Alfred, save it for when Y/N comes back.” 

The old butler humphed, “He’s always gotten sick when playing in the snow.” Bruce hummed, “Then I guess we better make this quick.” 

“Are you sure an hour was a good idea? He did sneak out of the manor before.” Ocean blue eyes filled with mirth, and he tapped his ears, “If Y/N wants to know what it’s like to be deaf, then he’ll play this game deaf. It’ll teach him how lucky he is to have his hearing.” Alfred’s eyes widened, “They turn off without his knowledge.” 

“Once he reaches a certain distance, they do, and he can’t turn them back on. Only I have the power to do that.” 

In the hall, suited up and waiting in the shadows, were the rest of this crooked family. Waiting for his orders, “Give him an hour, then find him.”

++++

Y/N knows this is a losing game. He knows that this game is set for his failure, and he knows that once this game is over, he will most likely never be able to set foot outside again. Not without a babysitter. 

When he external processors cut out, he knows what angle Bruce is playing out and he knows that his chances of making it to sunrise have become nearly 0%. He may not be as smart as Tim or anyone else in his family, but if you live with geniuses you learn how to read between the lines. 

He somehow managed to flag down a taxi before telling them where to go. Not missing the slight judgment cross their face and Y/N wonders if they know he cannot hear them. Y/N wonders if they know he is being chased and he essentially is just digging a bigger and deeper hole for himself. The bars will get thicker and the chain will be heavier, but if that is the outcome of this, then Y/N believes that this will be worth it. 

He clutched the bag closer. 

When he arrives at the station, he knows his hour is up and he knows that Barbara is watching him through the cameras. She is watching him buy his ticket, and is retelling everything to his siblings. He knows this because in front of him is Nightwing, drawing a crowd and making everyone look around for the villain. 

‘Going somewhere?’ 

‘Only temporarily.’ 

‘Temporarily is too long Y/N, let's go back home. Alfred has a peach cobbler ready.’ Nightwing held his hand out as if Y/N would actually take it. Which is fine, because Y/N knows through the giant circular mirror hanging from the ceiling, that Spoiler and Red Robin are behind him. 

Y/N stared at the hand once more, and he wondered if this is what it feels like to know the path you should take and still choose the other one. Taking a deep breath, Y/N said the one word that would get everyone running. It would have people scrambling and trying to seek cover and get out of a place that made everyone have a close vicinity to each other. 

“Joker!” Like someone shouting fire, the world was set into motion and Y/N watched as his view got obstructed by the rush of people. He disappeared within the crowds, dodging idle hands and ducking into the crowd. He may not be able to hear, but he can feel the panic that everyone else was feeling. Y/N saw parents pick their kids up, lovers grabbing each other’s hands, and strangers pushing and shoving other strangers. 

He rushed down the escalator, towards the Amtrak that had his destination written all over it. Y/N didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Nightwing right behind him. He can feel the heavy and frantic gaze and if he could hear, without a doubt his name would be filling the air. 

His heart picked up at the sight of the doors closing, and through some luck, he squeezed in at the last minute. The metal shutting behind him, and large latex covered hands slammed into the glass. Dick’s frantic face stared at him, and Y/N couldn’t stop the smile from creeping on his face. 

How it must feel for the rabbit to slip through the Hunter’s fingers. 

When the train began moving, Y/N wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a goodbye. He now sees why Jason loves teasing Dick. Dick’s angry expression really does tickle a sore spot in Y/N. Choosing a spot near the windows, Y/N prepared himself for the 10 hours train ride. The sun will not be rising when he gets there, but he never expected to make it to sunrise. Peering into the duffle bag next to him, Y/N gave a bitter smile and turned his attention back to the passing sight of Gotham city. 

In the Batcave, everyone was pacing and figuring out the best way to do this. 

“Are you sure that is where he is going?” 

“For the last time, I saw his ticket, yes. He is going there!” Jason winced at Barbara’s raised voice and he grit his teeth in irritation. He massaged his temples, “Why North Carolina? What is even there?” 

“The beaches.” 

“No shit you little spawn, but which one.” Nightwing didn’t bother reproaching his brother, and instead tightened his fist. He was so close to grabbing his brother. So close. 

The very knowledge that his little brother had barely escaped him stoked two different emotions in him. Pride in knowing that his brother was fast, fast enough to get away from him, and irritation because he did slip through Nightwing’s fingers. Batman didn’t seem bothered. 

In fact he looked awfully relaxed for someone whose son had just hopped on a train to North Carolina. Nightwing glared at him, “You know where he’s going.” Batman shrugged, “An idea.” 

“Where?” 

“Y/N took his freediving gear, and there’s only one beach in North Carolina that is worth freediving.” 

++++

Y/N felt the water encompass him, hugging his limbs and freeing him of gravity. The light attached to his forehead illuminates the sea and sees marine life at night. The train ride had been long and restless, but he did manage to at least sleep for 4 hours, before his nerves woke him up once more. 

It was still dark, but at 4 am in the morning, it would be stupid to assume there would be any light. Navigating to the pier at Wrightsville Beach had been difficult, constantly looking over his shoulders to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Then there was the actual jumping off of the pier that if anyone saw would have the cops racing over. 

Finally though, he was here. Swimming in the water and just letting himself be. It was a poor replication of freedom, but if this will be all he is allowed he’ll take it. Who knows how long it'll be before he could do something like this. Y/N isn’t stupid. He knows that Bruce knows where he is at. 

He knows his siblings are on their way over. Probably letting him get off the Amtrak first before jumping in the Batplane, or maybe even the Batboat. Y/N surfaced, and took a deep breath before diving below the surface once more. 

God, this was all a terrible joke but here it was happening. Y/N could have never imagined his family doing this. When he was younger, he chalked up Bruce’s need to constantly check on him as anxiety because it was the first time the man had a completely normal person in the house. Jason had always been touchy, and then Dick came along who would ruffle their hair. Tim would hold his forearm and Damian would follow him where he went. 

It wasn’t weird at all. That was Y/N’s normal, until he went to college and started making friends. Friends who were mature enough to see past his lack of hearing and shared their own sibling experiences. 

Experiences that didn’t match Y/N’s. 

His little trip outside the country only proved it, and Y/N wondered if it was a bad thing he decided to do in person classes instead of online. If he did online, he would live in the fantasy that his family was normal and they loved him as a person. No red flags would be waving because Y/N wouldn’t even know they are flags. 

He felt the water around him begin to vibrate and from the way the fish started spazzing out, Y/N knew his time was limited. How funny it would be if he never rose to the surface again. 

Sinking a bit further, he looked towards the surface and watched as the water distorted and ripples began to form, each one acting as a timer. Closing his eyes, he held his breath as long as he could, until his lungs began to ache. Lightheadedness caused him to almost inhale water.  

Rising to the surface, he could see the ominous black shape and the people looking over the edge. Here he was swimming back to his captors’ arms. Like a mouse headed for the trap. A fish into a net. 

Y/N has never hated himself more then when he took that breath of air and met the sight of cowled Batman, and masked Robin and former Robins. 

‘Ready?’ 

“Even if I wasn’t you’d still take me.” 

‘You lost Y/N, get out of the water.’ He accepted the ladder thrown down to him, and as soon as he was within arm distance, Red Hood and Red Robin hoisted him over the edge of the boat and it was Robin handing him a towel. Taking off his snorkel and flippers, Y/N let himself be guided to the inside, where an unmasked Dick sat at one of the tables with two cups of coffee. Red Hood pushed Y/N into the seat, squishing his body against the window as he laid his giant self on him. Sighing in relief and going limp. 

Y/N didn’t mind. From his seat, he watched the sunrays begin to slowly peak over the horizon. The warm glow gently illuminating the darkness, the sun not in sight yet but it’s very beginnings making itself known. Y/N wonders if one day, he can fall into the illusion of once more having a choice in his decisions. That there will be multiple paths in front of him instead of just one. 

A large hand patted his head, and Y/N felt disgusted that he welcomed it. Back to normalcy. He has to go back to normalcy. If he didn’t, Y/N really does believe he will go crazy. His fate has been chosen from the start, and he knows that there is little chance of changing it. He knows that all of this comes from a sick and twisted form of love, and Y/N wonders if this is the type of love he has always been destined for. 

The worst part is if given the choice to start over, Y/N wouldn’t stop himself from meeting Jason. He wouldn’t stop Jason from stealing the Batmobile tires, and he wouldn’t stop Jason from being Robin. He would try and stop Jason from dying, but he wouldn’t stop Tim from being Robin, or anything really. Y/N loves Jason, he loves his family, he loves their flaws and vices, even if it means letting go of somethings. His desire to be on his own was temporary anyways, only a few years and he would come back. 

It was never good to have a ‘white whale.’ That is what Moby Dick taught everyone who read it. 

If freedom was his white whale, then his family are the whalers. Killing it and completely destroying anything that made him want to chase it. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Honestly.... I'm not to sure about the ending.

#batfam #dc universe #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere family #yandere imagines #batfam x reader #platonic #male reader #batfam x male reader #deaf!reader #platonic batfam #platonic batman #platonic Jason Todd #Platonice Dick Grayson #Platonic Tim Drake #Platonice Damian Ghul Wayne #batfam x deaf reader #yandere dc #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere Jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne

[florvaine]

lost comfort and found familiarity.

Escaping the prison was a mess, and Carl is devastated when he can only find his girlfriends red jacket, but not her. (afab! reader)

genre: heavy angst to fluff

warnings: death, blood, gore, panic/anxiety attack, !carls’ SA scene!, kissing.

-— DREAD BEGAN TO FILL THE PIT OF CARL’S STOMACH WHEN THE HEAVY REALISATION SET IN. That realisation was that the prison was overrun, the Governor and his goons having broken down the wired fencing with a tank and brought in dozens upon dozens of brain-deteriorated, famished walkers into the previously safe confines of the prison.

They had killed Hershel in cold blood using Michonne's katana, leaving his severed head to pool a red sheen on the grass. Somewhere in the time of his beheading bullets began to ring out around the borders of the prison.

Cars, trucks and military-grade vehicles began to fill the courtyard, Rick and the Governor are beating each other bloody with their bare hands by the overturned bus.

“Holy shit.” He hears you say, and once he looks to his left to find you, his heart hurts a little more.

You’re typically comforting smile has vanished like the peace had just a few hours ago, instead pulled in an open-mouthed look of pure shock and horror. Your eyes are blown wide, brimming with a small collection of tears. There’s dust and debris flying everywhere, staining your cheeks. A shotgun is tight in your grip, ammo stacked in your pockets and an army knife clinging on your belt.

He’s only ever seen you this devastated when the farm got set up in flames, and when you had been told that your brother had been bit.

Carl gulps, pulling you closer to him via the strong grip he has on your hand. Both of your palms are sweaty, but it was barely even registered as the tank that the Governor had hijacked shot another bomb into the crumbling, brick walls of the prison.

“We gotta go!” He says, running in the opposite direction of the explosion. You follow behind him, still holding his hand as an anchor to keep you aware of reality.

Your eyes drift around the series of events around you. The obliteration of your home, the snapping jaws of the decaying walkers that drooled and reached to take a chunk of flesh from either of your bodies. Bullets rain hell on everything that moves, sparks of orange and yellow shining from all directions, the scent of blood, gunpowder and dust is heavy as it clings to your clothes and hair.

You stumble, tugging on Carl's hand, "We have to get your Dad!" You point to where Michonne is helping him up, and the blue-eyed boy falters.

A loud bang followed by the sound of debris hitting the floor, a flash of heat passed over each of your skins. Between the flash, he sees his dad covered in splatters of blood, bruises and cuts stumbling towards a break in the metal fence.

Every sense in his body is muddled, an annoying, high-pitched ring in his ears makes his clammy hands raise upwards to press against them, sounds muffled as dust coats his tongue like thick, chalky medicine. His eyes flutter as the light passes, debris clinging to his lashes and dirtying his freckled face. Carl sniffs, his head turning around rapidly to see you again.

Except you were gone.

Just like the flash of orange light and thermal blast, you had seemingly dissipated into thin air. His first reaction is panic, in a form that roots his body into the concrete floor at the thought of you being hit by the bomb, therefore disintegrating instantly.

Carl feels sick to his stomach and he removes his hands from his ears, picking up his gun that clattered to the ground and spinning in circles to catch even a glimpse of you.

"Y/n?" He shouts even if his throat was aching from the particles in the muggy air.

There's no response, "Y/n!" He calls out with more urgency, his feet moving quick against the ground as another round of bullets pass beside him.

The shaggy, brown-haired teen dashes through a gap between the cell blocks, keeping as low as he could whilst running, pressing the sheriff's hat his father gave him just a few days prior against him skull.

Then everything stops. It's practically silent if you ignore the echoes of the snarling walkers that invaded the space. His eyes brim with salty tears, scrambling to pick up a too familiar red cloth discarded on the floor.

His heart is put on pause for a few seconds as he kneels down to claw at the jacket. Your favourite jacket. Bright red stained with black smudges and bloody hand smears, an open hole passes cleanly through both sides of the left sleeve, encircled in a deeper scarlet that dripped in a sickening curve of an open wound.

Time passes slowly, as if God himself was providing him time to grieve. You had slipped through the cracks of his callousing hands, the blood trapped under his fingernails suddenly more obvious as he scratched at the drying liquid on the jacket. His heart hurts. So does his head, a throbbing pulse that matched the pants and trembling breaths that exited his chapped lips. His body washes out any adrenaline or happy emotion an refills it with dread and mourning.

He feels like crying. Sobbing, screaming your name until his lungs collapsed and his throat was raw. Vocal cords torn, shattered like his heart that would no longer beat with the same life he had with you. His thoughts turned from joyous hope of a future with you and Judith outside the crackling prison to disbelieving hurt at the realisation you were not near him anymore.

With no body, their could be no funeral. Nobody in the limited black attire they collected throughout their time in the apocalypse. With no grave to bury you under, you could not rest.

But without a funeral or a tattered corpse of your being, Carl refused to believe you were dead.

The sound of bullets restart his heart again like a defibrillator, and he's back in the moment. There's shots in the courtyard, the boy scrambles up, clinging onto your jacket with harsh breathing.

There's two walkers further along the cell block. Carl ties the jacket around his waist. Rage slowly drips into the building acceptance in his mind, and the shotgun that he held previously was snagged up off the floor.

The gun is raised, aimed perfectly for the decaying heads of what used to be morally guided people. His breathing picks up slightly.

One shot rings out, bullet shells hitting the ground. Chunks of skin, bone and rotting organs spills over the floor and the walker hits the ground with a dull thud. He steps over the remains with what could only be described as a bitter mixture of anger and sadness on his face.

The second shot is fired, and the first victim is joined by the other. A mess of liquid ruby changes the grey hue of the floor, the sound of blood spilling like tossed water would usually sicken him.

His gaze drifts towards the bodies, and he is repulsed at the image of you, your hair splayed against the concrete and your eyes wide open yet unseeing, glossed over in grey as your plump lips turn blue, skin cold. Your chest does not rise. You are still, graceful and dead.

He blinks, and yet again you were gone. Carl looks up from the meaningless corpses.

His own dad looks back at him.

"Carl," It doesn't sound like him, there's a hint of liquid that gurgled in his throat as he spoke, and Rick gulps it down. He's breathing heavily. A collection of red patches adorn his beaten face, curls from his hair and stubbly beard pressed against the sweat gathered on his skin.

The two of them limp away from the remains of the prison, trauma and sorrow tossing and churning in their minds and stomachs. They had lost not only you, but Judith as well.

One of the only memories of his mother that he had. And the only hope that Rick had of raising one of his children without any fear even in the apocalypse.

That night the two of them exchanged no words.

-—-

1 month, 27 days and 17 hours.

That's how long it had been since Carl had last heard your voice. Him, Rick and now Michonne occupy a two story house in a leafy road surrounded by woods. They visit the neighbouring homes further down, once he even found a 112 ounces worth of chocolate pudding, and ate it in one sitting. Alone.

The words 'alone' has never been in the forefront of his mind this much before. He wonders if you would've enjoyed the pudding with him, or comforted him on his worst nights as his dad slept on the sofa barricading the front door. Maybe you would've stopped him shouting at his unconscious body.

He was terrified, that night. Because the sleeping body of his dad would sometimes look like you - except there's a bite on your shoulder and a bullet wound punctured between your closed eyes.

Now there was no resting body on the sofa as his dad was awake, alive and moving whilst Michonne helps the two of them work with their slightly tense familial relationship.

Sometimes he'd get bombarded with questions about you. He'd still answer with one phrase.

"She's alive."

The same tone, the same memory starting to form before his ocean eyes whenever he blinked. After a while it went from being a quivering statement of hope to an exclamation of law.

Every time you were brought up negativily, it ended in him storming out of the house and sleeping in a different one for the night, and coming back in the morning to his anxious dad who was very close to vomiting and a worried Michonne.

Carl knew you wouldn't just leave or give in that easily. It wasn't in your blood that stained the jacket he kept folded upstairs in one of the rooms.

He had washed it, any trace of what happened at the prison left in a stream of water; the hole from your bullet wound was sewn together as best as he could. No more smudges of soot and crumbling brick smeared down the hood and arms, no more scarlet hand prints that grabbed and tainted your clothing.

Carl had one mission that he would complete - he had to complete it before anything else.

And you were going to get your jacket back - alive.

-—-

Terminus was a horrible idea. It had been advertised as a safe haven for anyone in need of it, offering sickingly sweet luxuries that no other place had before.

Who knew it was run by cannibals that captured, disarmed and intended to eventually eat them? Not Carl, that's for sure.

They had barely escaped with their lives, and Carl could only wonder how many more times he could dodge death until it inevitably caught up with him.

But in the back of his mind, he knew he would avoid it for as long as he possibly could, because if he kicked the bucket then he wouldn’t see you again.

At least they found everyone else - including Judith. That was one miracle that Carl dreamed of, and it was accepted, so the last one was you.

Many nights and days he had spent wondering where you were, if you were thinking about him too, some other days passed with tears and muffled screams of your name; those days he’d be comforted by the tight arms of his dad or Michonne wrapped around him.

Carl would sometimes have nightmares of that grimey, old man that pinned him against the floor, Michonne and Rick having to see him at his most vulnerable in that moment. That was the one time he was grateful you weren’t there. Not because he didn’t want you to see him so shattered and broken, no.

He knew that whatever was going to happen to him, would happen to you too. And with the predator pinning him down, the company of his equally as vile creatures that held Michonne and Rick as captives. Nobody would be able to save you in time.

Part of his innocence was picked up and snapped that night. He fell asleep with your jacket over his torso, and he let his quivering frame curl into yours.

He wanted to see you again, in real life. Not a part of the fractured, twisted part of his imagination. He wished to hold you close against him, kiss you under the stars like you had done too many days ago. Everything Carl found that he thought you’d like was in a small pouch at the bottom on his bag.

A thin-chained necklace, a gossip magazine, a comic book. A small heart shaped rock that he had found. Most importantly, your jacket.

Carl was intelligent, observant. He could tell everyone had already grieved for you, mentioned your name in speeches of motivation saying ‘do it for her’. He hated it.

Another argument happened whilst they were all moving down the abandoned road, towards a new hope of life.

*

His father brought you up again when he saw Carl wearing your jacket. They had stopped for a break, sitting in the middle of the road whilst Daryl went hunting for anything they could eat.

“Carl,” He spoke, voice slow and gentle as if he was a ticking time bomb, “I think it’s time you let go of her jacket.”

Everyone’s eyes moved from his father to his son, eyes slightly widened and mouths clamped shut. The air becomes tense as the blue-eyed teen looks up at his father through the corner of his eyes.

Carl swipes his tongue over his lips, “Why’s that?” He spoke, Judith coo’s in his arms, pulling at the strings that tightened the hood.

Rick adjusts his stance, placing his hands on his hips and thinking of what to say to his son. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he speaks.

“I just think, well we just think that,” The curly-haired dad gestures to everyone with one hand, “It’s time to let go, son.”

Carl lifts his head fully, eyebrows knitted together in scrutising disbelief, “You all think she’s dead?” His tone is harsh, accusing and targeted to pierce their racing hearts.

Everyone knew that the mention of you being dead was something that the boy didn’t agree with. Stubborn as ever, Carl points his gaze towards his dad. His gaze as sharp as daggers and Rick knows hes in for the long run.

“She disappeared, Carl. We can only guess what happened to her.”

Carl hands Judith to Carol next to him and she takes her without looking at the boy, “You can guess, but I’m not guessing. I know she’s alive.”

“She’s got lost, nobody saw where she went. She’s alone.” Rick argued, his voice louder.

“She has a gun and a knife!” Carl replies, shouting over his father. Michonne stands up and removes her gun from her holster, as did Abraham and Tara when a branch snaps behind the wooded trees.

Daryl shows himself, empty handed. Everyone internally groans, but they give him a look to tell him to be quiet and point at the arguing boys.

Rick places his hands on his sons shoulder, looking down on him, “People have still died with a gun, kid.”

Carl pushes his dad away from him, face contorting into pure anger and vemon lacing his features, “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m just tellin’ you the truth, Carl.” Rick points at him, eyebrows raised and his voice returning to the soft, almost patronising tone from before.

“But it’s not the truth!” Carl argues, his anger put into lashing out against his own blood, “She’s alive, I know it! I see her, Dad!”

Michonne places a hand on Rick’s shoulder when she hears him sigh and prepare himself, “Don’t-”

“She’s dead! Trust me. She. Is. Dead. If you’re seeing her like I see your mother, then she is not alive anymore!”

It goes silent, a few birds fly overhead with calls of their scratchy language. Even in the open surrounded by trees it has never felt more claustrophobic than ever for the Grimes family.

Carl stiffens at the mention of his mother, the woman that birthed and nutured him through his pre-teen years. The woman he eventually ended up killing.

Rick takes his silence as an opportunity, “Let her go, Carl. That’s my only advice.”

Tears form in his lashline as he stares back at him dad, and the sheriff’s hat against his head has never felt more heavy than in this moment.

“But everyone saw Mum’s body.”

Rick has never turned around quicker than in that moment. The mention of his lovers lifeless body, deep cut in her lower stomach flashes under the glaze in his eyes and Rick swears he can see a white dress move through the treeline.

Carl continues, “We saw Mum’s body,” His voice trembles and he sniffs, “I knew she was dead more than anyone else here.”

It’s deathly silent. Everyone knows what he’s referring to, and everyone is scared shitless to say anything to either of them. Rick takes a deep breath, but doesn’t speak.

A droplet rolls down Carl’s pale cheek, and he looks down to ensure no one saw him wipe it away, “We haven’t seen hers. Until we see her body, I’m keeping her jacket. But when we find her, she’s gonna have it back.”

Rick only nods lightly, picking up the supplies he agreed to carry.

Nobody makes any objections to continuing to move further up the road - towards Alexandria.

-—-

You have never felt so close before. Yes, they were extremely suspicious and afraid of Aaron and his husband, Eric. Having been tricked into a cannibal house just a week ago does that to a group of people.

But walking up yet another road, littered with lifeless corpses of walkers with bullets making their brains paint the pavement. Carl knows only one thing.

He has never been this sure that he was going to find you.

Aaron is rattling on about what facilities they had. Running water, heating, electricity. Promises of necessaries they haven’t heard of for years now.

His dad is on edge, not particularly fond of the idea, but he knew that everyone was so tired and burnt out that they needed just the idea of a safe place to be just to bring more motivation to themselves.

So far, Aaron’s words of a 15 foot, metal wall that bordered Alexandria and protected the insiders was true, and Carl begins to feel more energetic and hopeful than before.

Carol notices this, and questions the boy, “What’s up, Carl?” She looks at him, and he looks back.

“She’s here, I know it.” He replies and then looks forward again, walking ahead of her.

Carol furrows her brows and decides to take harder and longer looks at the walkers on the floor.

The group arrive at the large, metal gate. The journey felt like hours for each of them, but extra long for Carl. He was antsy, and fully compliant to anything any of them told them to do. If Aaron or Eric told them to stop, he would. If they told him to go find a bird, kill it and bring it back, he would.

The gates finally screech open, Carl feels as if his heart is going to burst open. An alarm sounds in the back of his head but not one of worry, but one of intuition that told him she was here.

He looked into the gated community as the gate opened fully, and felt alienated as soon as he entered with his group. They were dirty, hair knotty and unclean against the pristine and organised residents of Alexandria.

People poke their heads out of houses and stare, smiling or looking upon them with apathy. Every face Carl doesn’t recognise.

They get told to hand over their weapons. Their refusal is argued, and eventually they give in. It’s hesitated and unsettling seeing all their guns and knifes piled onto a trolley.

Carl is the second to last person to place anything on the trolley, his handgun is held in his hands tightly as he walks over to the collection, placing it down and reaching for his knife-

“Carl?”

It’s a voice further along the pathway into Alexandria, and he looks up in slight confusion.

His blue eyes meet hers, they’re as recognisable as ever. Finally.

His body is practically overflowing with emotion - relief, joy, sadness and the most overpowering feeling of love.

The knife clatters to the floor, there are hands reaching for him, tugging on his clothes to hold him back and the leaders that he didn’t care to remember the names of tell him to stay put.

Instead he runs. It’s a run of desperation. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t run fast enough, you’ll disappear again in the aftermath of an explosion. You’re running too, a hand against your mouth to cover sobs.

The two of you meet halfway, arms wrapping around eachother as a form of physical touch to ensure that the other that this is real.

“You’re alive,” Carl whispers, breathing heavily and clutching the back of your head that was pressed against his chest, “I knew it.”

You’re both crying, holding eachother in a tight, cathartic embrace that released any inkling of doubt that the others heart wasn’t beating.

Carl’s hands clamber to hold you face in his hands again. You let him, raising your head to look into his eyes. He runs his thumbs against your soft skin, scanning your face.

His head lowers, yours lifts, and your lips meet in a greeting that was way past it’s due date. Eyes closed, experiencing something that has only been a dream for so long. You didn’t care that his lips were chapped, he didn’t care that yours were slightly cut up from you biting at the dead skin there.

It’s messy, teeth clashing and your noses bump one or two times, but all that you care about is that he’s here, and that he finally found you.

You pull apart, and your eyes fly open to witness his still closed like he was still in shock. His lashes flutter, and you make eye contact once again.

There’s a sense of melancholy realisation that slowly ebbs through him. The fact he hadn’t been there to witness you grow up alongside him during the time you were apart. He admires the change in your facial structure, features from before stronger and more prominent to show that you had grown up.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remembered,” His thumb wipes away a few of your tears and rolls over a small scar that streches up from your jawline to your cheekbone and his eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, “What happened?”

You press yourself further against his palms, relishing in the feeling of him again, “I survived, Carl.”

His name has never sounded so good before. His brain feels funny, his heart floating as he pulls you in for another kiss. It’s less messy this time, not that either of you care.

Carl pulls away again as he’s reminded of his mission, his forehead against yours, “Your jacket,” He gives you peck, and departs again, “I have your jacket.”

His hands leave your face to pull the rucksack of his back, and in panting breaths you gasp softly as he pulls the red fabric out of the bottom of the brown bag, holding it out to you.

“I cleaned it, sewed up the bullet hole,” He holds it up, showing the messy threading, “It’s not the best-”

He’s cut off by you taking it from him with a sniffle, pressing it against your heart and clutching it.

“I love you, Carl.” Your voice trembles, and he smiles, pressing a kiss against your forehead, brushing a few loose strands of your hair from your face.

“I love you too.”

You unzipped the red jacket, struggling to get it on; Carl moves forwards to help you slide it on over your arms again.

Where it rightfully belongs.

-—-

#*{ ‘. florawrites<3 #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #carl grimes #twd #angst #the walking dead x reader #fluff #twd fluff #twd angst

[userlando]

got drunk on you — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x verstappen!reader [6.5k] summary: max comes for a visit before the race in monza and he fails to mention that he'd invited daniel along. warnings: 18+ explicit smut, verstappen!reader, explicit language. a/n: not me writing this during my 12hr shift lmfao i hope it's somewhat enjoyable to read. as always, feedback is v much appreciated. love you all 🤍

The first time you saw Daniel, was when he’d been clad in orange at the paddock in Bahrain. It wasn’t so much as your eyes being drawn to him automatically, but more so his laughter. You still remembered where you stood with Max and his girlfriend, offering words of support to your brother before qualifiers. Your eyes had solely been on him, but they’d immediately glanced around at sound of the big belly laugh from across the paddock, drawn like a moth to a flame.

It wasn’t hard to match the laughter to the smiling face, watching with mild interest as he messed around with Lando; slapping him between the legs and dodging the punches the British boy dished out in retaliation. He looked fun, carefree, bearing absolutely no tension or nerves that half the grid did for the upcoming race.

Daniel was beautiful. There was no other word to describe him. The sheer charm radiating off of him had your interest piqued immediately, and pairing that with the forbidden fruit feeling, you were hooked. There had never been any real desire to break the unspoken rule of you dating your brother’s friends and colleagues, but it was easy to imagine stepping over that line when you’d watched the tall Australian.

No words were exchanged, but you did get glances and friendly smiles whenever you passed each other. Your best friend received the brunt of your inner thoughts, texting her like a madman of the tall glass of water on the grid.

When Max won, you’d gone back to the hotel and had a few drinks while you got ready for the after party, keeping Sofia - your friend - on the line. She’d somehow convinced you to follow him on Instagram, which you did, and you’d tried not to overthink it when he’d sent you a follow request back a few minutes later.

If liking pictures was flirting, then you were well on the right track.

You’d only ever gotten glimpses of him whenever you did end up tagging along to races, but the first time you actually met him was when Max showed up on your doorstep with Kelly, claiming that he missed his little sister and wanted to spend a few days with you before he was off to Monza. You didn't point out that you'd be right there with him in Italy, accepting his intrusion easily because despite it all, you missed him a whole lot.

What he’d failed to mention was that Daniel would be dropping by too, having invited him without checking with you. It usually wasn’t a problem, sometimes guys from the grid would show up with your brother and it was always a good time.

You really, really wished he’d mentioned it before you opened the door the morning after your brother’s arrival though, still in your very embarrassing pajamas and a toothbrush used and abandoned in your bathroom, fully expecting to see the delivery man on the other end. What you didn’t expect was the tall man who you’d silently been yearning for, looking way too good for someone who'd stepped off a plane.

“Hey.” He greeted you, shooting you a smile that made you blink owlishly. “Good morning.”

You frowned, opening your mouth to greet him but was pushed to the side by your idiot brother. There was a loud and silly exchange between the two men, like you weren’t standing right there with a big question mark on your face, and you watched in silence before Daniel’s gaze on you made Max turn around; like he’d forgotten you were there. In your own home.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you but I invited Daniel.” Max said and you refrained from glaring at him, giving the other man a kind smile instead. “It’s no problem, yeah?”

Killing your brother would have to wait.

“Hi, sorry, of course not.” You thrust your hand out for him to shake, which he did. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You invited him in, closing the door and shooting your brother a glare when his friend wasn’t looking. He responded with a clueless frown of his own, eyes dropping to what you were wearing.

“What are you wearing?” He asked, yelping when you elbowed him a little too hard in the ribs. “And what do you have on your face?”

He reached a hand out to swipe at your cheek, rubbing off toothpaste and you watched in horror, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Thankfully, Max lead the way without another word, chatting with the Australian as he showed him to the room he’d presumably be staying in. You watched them round a corner before fleeing to the kitchen, finding Kelly by the stove, looking ten times more put together than you did. The whole place smelled like pancakes, and you almost lost your track of thoughts just by the sheer smell of them. But you were too wound up, a little upset and a whole lot embarrassed.

“What is he doing here?” You asked, careful to keep your voice hushed because you knew how well sound traveled through your house. “Why didn’t Max say anything!”

Kelly looked a little lost, like she wasn’t sure why you were as upset as you were. Which, fair, she didn’t know the absolute turmoil you’d experience whenever you caught sight of Daniel. It was embarrassing, how nervous the man made you. Like a teenaged girl with a crush on her brother's best friend.

“I thought he did.” She looked over her shoulder at you before plating a pancake with practiced ease. “He’s coming with us to the vineyard.”

You leaned against the counter, feeling a little miffed and she must’ve seen the look on your face because she smiled in amusement.

“You’re the one who complained about third wheeling when I booked the tour for us.”

She had a point, but you didn’t say it out loud. Instead, you plucked a cut up strawberry from a plate and turned around to go get ready before the boys came back. The giraffe pajamas had caused you enough embarrassment for a day. It was time for them to retire deep, deep in the back of the closet.

Breakfast was surprisingly pleasant, conversation flowing freely as you dug into your food. You’d forgotten how incredibly well your brother and Daniel fit together, bickering like siblings and taking friendly jabs at each other. Kelly shifted the conversation to the vineyard you’d be touring, talking about the kinds of wines they made and would have in the menu.

It was a beautiful day to spend outside, the Spanish sun shining brightly as you found your little group huddled around the entrance. It was a small group consisting of maybe fifteen people, and you looked around as Kelly and Max walked ahead of you.

“D’ya reckon we’ll get drunk off our asses?” Daniel asked and you gave the man an amused smile.

“I don’t think the samples are that big.” You frowned. “Right?”

“No clue.” He looked ahead as the two of you fell into step, presumably glancing at Max. “Do you like wine?”

You considered lying, but then you figured that it wouldn’t do much harm to just be honest so you shook your head in the negative.

“Absolutely hate it.” You let out a small giggle when Daniel laughed, bumping his arm against yours. “I’m sorry but it smells and tastes so bad!”

“It does the job, though, no?”

You smiled, opening your mouth to reply but Max cut in, yelling at you to hurry up and join them. The tour guide had appeared like magic, out of thin air, and he was standing to the side patiently. You eyed him suspiciously, turning to Kelly to ask her whether it was an English or Spanish tour, but then the man started speaking and your suspicion turned into sheer amusement.

“Why’s he speaking Spanish?” Max murmured quietly enough for only the three of you to hear.

“Because we’re in Spain, Max.” You answered him sarcastically, earning a snort from Daniel and an exasperated eye roll from your brother.

Kelly made a sound in her throat, sounding a lot like a warning to shut up like she did so many times whenever the two of you started bickering in public.

“I think I might’ve booked the wrong guide.” Kelly admitted sheepishly, quietly and you muffled a laugh behind your hand.

It was a funny thought, that she’d managed to choose a tour with a Spanish guide when only one out of the four of you could speak the language. The one being you. You knew it was only a matter of time before your brother would disassociate out of boredom, and you couldn’t wait to witness it.

“He’s telling us to follow him.” You murmured helpfully, referring to the guide and the group moved in tandem as everyone entered the vineyard.

The tour went as well as expected, watching with mild interest and confusion as you walked the fields, descending stairs to basements and getting to sip on samples of expensive wine in the dampness of old cellars.

You tried not to grimace too hard when you brought the glass to your lips, stomach roiling dangerously as you sipped. And it was only when you’d shuddered that you noticed Daniel watching and grinning across from you, catching you in the act.

At some point, you lost sight of Max and Kelly. You suspected that they’d broken out of the group and gone to the restaurant to sample more wines; like their lips weren’t already stained and Kelly wasn’t starting to get into that giggly mood she always got into when she’d had a little much to drink.

You and Daniel stuck together though, eventually wandering off and getting lost in the field of grapes and greens.

It was fun. More fun than you’d had in a while. You took silly pictures, talked and you forgot the time completely.

“I think Max is a little drunk.” You pointed out, holding your phone in your hand with the screen lit up by a text from the man himself.

You held out your phone so Daniel could read the text, watching how he threw his head back to laugh at the jumble of words he found there. Much like the texts he’d sometimes receive after bar crawls and night clubs.

where arew yoh?? This wind is amazing

??? Wind not wind

WINE

are yyu lost? do I nee f to call for help

“He’s trashed.” Daniel agreed.

You sent back a quick assurance that you were fine, pocketing your phone and looking up to find the man already looking at you. It sent a zip of awareness down your back and you looked away bashfully.

The sun had done a lot of good for him, his cheeks were gaining colour and had already started to freckle. It was pretty, and so, so endearing.

“So, are you excited for Monza?” You asked lightly, turning a corner in the hopes of finding the way back to the restaurant but it was another dead end.

The both of you kept walking though, figuring that you’d find your way back eventually. You just hoped it would be before it got dark outside. Max was drunk, but he’d send a search party out and you had no doubt about that.

“Oh yeah, I got it in the bag.” He said, playful, easy. So very attractive. “Max doesn’t stand a chance.”

You laughed, shoving him in the side and he stumbled with a cackle; regaining his footing easily.

"The most skillful driver out there." It wasn't a complete lie, Daniel was one of the good ones. He just needed a team that could keep up with his speed.

“I’m in the category of the more good looking drivers, actually.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he puffs up his chest, lips getting sucked between his teeth in a poor effort to keep the massive smile off his face. “That’s what my mom said anyway.”

You let out a laugh, thinking of how utterly charming he was. It seemed to come naturally to him, and usually it’d intimidate you when that charm is paired with wildly good looks but he somehow managed to put you at ease.

It wasn’t difficult to see why Daniel was so popular and loved in and out of the grid. He made everyone feel like they were old childhood friends and that was a rare quality to possess.

“I’m starting to think that she lied, though.” He continued, like he hadn’t been staring at your smiling face for a beat too long.

You’d been staring too, though. He was too mesmerising.

“Why’s that?” You grinned, knowing that he’d say something that would reel you in completely, judging by the playful little shake of his head.

“Because you didn’t agree.” He laughed at your eyebrows jumping on your forehead. “You laughed too hard.”

“How do you know I wasn’t laughing out of agreement?” You narrowed your eyes a little playfully.

Daniel smiled, delighted that you were playing along and falling right into his little flirty traps. He couldn’t even remember why he was so nervous to talk to you in the first place.

But then you smiled at him, eyes glistening a little too prettily and it was like someone had knocked the breath out of him. So, he looked away and tried not to show how he’d suddenly felt like someone had pulled the rug right from underneath him.

Never mind that you were Max’s sister, knowing that there was some silent bro-code that he had to consider. It was hard when you had all the qualities he usually looked for in women. And not to mention how fucking attracted he was to you.

“So you do agree that I’m good looking.” He nodded, looking a little smug and you shook your head in amusement.

“Who doesn’t?” You asked, before you had any time to rethink the words coming out of your mouth.

He looked at you and you struggled to not break eye contact, even though your face was feeling a few degrees hotter. If he noticed your nerves, he didn’t say anything and you were eternally grateful for that.

“Well,” he sucked his teeth and tried not to look like his ego hadn’t tripled by that one comment. “ditto, sweetheart.”

The way he said it so casually almost made you stop in your tracks, heat creeping up your neck at the way the word sweetheart sounded on his tongue. You briefly wondered how it’d sound in other contexts.

The thought made your heart race and you quickly banished that thought, because what the fuck?

Daniel made a little sound and stopped walking, and you automatically looked up to notice that you’d finally found your way back. You laughed because somehow you’d accidentally circled around and ended up back where you started.

“Ready for some more wine?” Daniel asked jokingly, brushing his hand against yours and you resisted the urge to grab it.

It was easier to nod, words stuck in your throat as you made your way up the stairs to the restaurant.

It was night by the time you came stumbling back through the threshold of your house, Kelly and Max a little tipsy with Daniel not too far behind; judging by the slight flush on his cheeks that definitely hadn’t been caused by the Spanish sun.

Your cheeks were aching from smiling and laughing too much during the evening, heart feeling light as you navigated your way through the house. Your brother grabbed you with an arm around the shoulders, pulling you into his embrace so suddenly that it made you stumble.

“Easy, Max.” You let out a yelp when he smacked a kiss on your head, slapping at him with your hands until he eased his hold on you.

“Goodnight, bunny.” He was slurring a little, but the words sounded fond coming from his mouth.

You got a similar kiss from Kelly - but less sloppy - and you watched them walk away before disappearing out of sight. The sound of a half-snorted laugh made you turn around, finding Daniel hiding his smile behind his hand. Not that it did much hiding, eyes scrunched up in amusement.

“Bunny?” He referred to your brother’s nickname for you and you frowned in embarrassment. He easily recognised the sheer disdain colouring your face and was quick to plead. “No, no. I need to hear that story.”

“No, you really don’t.” You shook your head with a laugh and began walking to the kitchen. “It’s horrifying enough that you saw me in my pajamas this morning.”

Daniel let out a laugh this time, the sound echoing in the kitchen and you couldn’t even hide your smile even if you tried.

“Hey, giraffes are cute, alright?” He plucked a clean glass out a cabinet and accepted the water bottle you’d gotten out of the refrigerator. “I thought you looked good.”

“Oh, you’re a bad driver and a liar.” You hauled yourself up to sit on the counter.

“I’m not ly— you think I’m a bad driver?” He looked offended, voice going up an octave in sheer disbelief. “You really do have your brother’s sense of humour.”

You stretched a leg out to poke his waist and he easily caught your leg when you tried to pull back. A startled yelp left your lips at his quick reflexes, and you tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was trailing the grip up your leg as he inched closer to you.

“Tell me why he calls you bunny.” He said seriously, and you blinked in disbelief because how did he break the tension so fast?

“You’re not allowed to laugh.” You warned him and he nodded, the smile telling you that he was going to do exactly that. “I used to pretend to be a bunny when I was little. I’d demand carrots for dinner and it has just stuck through all these years.”

He threw his head back and cackled so loudly that you were almost worried that Max would come back out and see what the commotion was all about. But it was hard to deny that his laughter was contagious, so loud and carefree that you couldn’t find it in yourself to even pretend to be mad.

“That’s adorable!” He placed both hands on your thighs as he stepped between them, giving you a bright smile. “Did you hop around as well? Oh you did, didn’t you?”

Your embarrassed smile was enough of an answer, and it sent him into fits of laughter again until you groaned and hid your burning face behind your hands. Daniel’s peals of laughter slowly died down and he made a noise of protest, hands coming up to pry yours off your face.

“Don’t be embarrassed, bunny.” He said and you glared.

“Don’t call me that.” You pointed a finger at him. “Only Max is allowed because he rarely does anymore. I don’t want that nickname to stick.”

He held up his hands in surrender, sucking in his lips to stop himself from smiling and you held your own smile back while staring straight at him.

You hadn’t realised how close the two of you had gotten, your thighs on either side of his waist and him leaning oh, so close to you. There was a shift in the air then, where you both seemed to realize the position you found yourselves in. He didn’t make any moves to pull away though, and you weren’t about to be the one to push him away.

You were aware that you were playing a dangerous game, toeing the fine line that Max had drawn in the imaginary sand. There was no telling how your brother would react if he walked into the kitchen right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as your hands found life of their own; trailing up the meaty expanse of Daniel’s arms until you reached his broad shoulders.

He wasn’t a massive guy, by any means, but he was defined and had muscle. It wasn’t so hard to see that he’d put in work to look the way he did, it came with his job after all.

“Can I…” His words died on his tongue when you glanced up at him, getting a little lost in your eyes and the way you were practically eating him up with your gaze. It was intoxicating. “Can I kiss you?”

A rush of heat flooded your stomach, and you responded by running your fingers through his hair and bringing his head closer to yours. He went easily, eagerly settling his mouth over yours in a kiss that had you gripping his hair and shoulder.

The need took over so fast, you barely had time to take a breath. Your heart sped up when he took that last step forward, bringing his knees flush to the counter as his mouth opened under yours.

You didn’t know what to focus on, getting lost in the feeling of his hands gripping at your ass cheeks and pulling you into him until your crotch was slotted right against his lower belly; allowing you to rub off on him if you so pleased. And fuck, you really wanted to.

He must’ve sensed it, or even read your thoughts because he helped you thrust forward with the help of his hands on your ass, groaning deeply into your mouth when you started grinding against his torso. Daniel didn’t know if he was imagining the heat against his stomach, but you felt warm and so ready for him to take you apart however he pleased.

“Tell me what you want.” He demanded quietly against your lips, and you let out a needy little whimper when he squeezed the meat of your ass in his palms. “You gotta tell me what you want.”

“You.” You managed, leaning forward to kiss him and Daniel allowed it before pulling back slightly.

You almost huffed in frustration, but refrained from doing so. Instead, you grabbed one of his hands and guided them up the apex of your thighs, under your dress and settled his hands right where you needed him most. Daniel’s breath stuttered, the heat of it hitting your face and you blinked at him with pleading eyes.

“Touch me, please, Daniel.” You arched your back a little until his hand moved of its own accord, stroking softly over the dampness of your underwear.

He couldn’t believe how wet you already were, fingers eagerly searching for your hole through the cotton and pressing down until you were whining. It was like music to his ears, and he needed to hear more.

Daniel yanked your panties to the side, cursing loudly at the wetness of your pussy against the pads of his fingers. He touched your swollen clit in circles, never taking his eyes off of your face. You were so animated, pleasure written in large bold letters on your face as your eyelids fluttered; eyes rolling a little when he stroked you particularly nicely, mouth dropping opening in breathy moans.

He couldn’t resist leaning forward to steal a kiss, the filthiness of it making his cock ache.

“Does that feel good?” He asked when you broke from the kiss, tipping your head backwards so his mouth met your chin instead. He kissed down the column of your throat and sucked against the skin there, mindful to not leave any visible marks.

“Feels perfect.” You slurred, your accent melding into your English and it was so horribly endearing and hot at the same time that Daniel couldn’t resist sinking a finger into you.

The response from you was beautiful, your back arching and hips thrusting into his hand as your hole swallowed his digit without any trouble. Daniel wasn’t sure if you were even aware of the noises you were making, high pitched little uh’s that rose in octaves and he was quick to silence them by kissing you.

He took the opportunity to slide another finger alongside his middle one, meeting a little resistance before you relaxed in his hold. The wetness and warmth of you was so intoxicating that he had to take a deep breath to not blow too soon in his pants.

“Want you—“ your words trailed off as your hands came up to search for the button of his pants.

You were panting, feeling impatient and Daniel watched in silence as the sound of the zipper echoed in the quiet kitchen. There was a brief sense of relief when you dragged down the hem of his underwear, just enough for you to fish him out and get your hands on him.

“Fuck.” You cursed in a whisper, voice laced in enough wonder for Daniel to laugh breathlessly. It was unbelievable how that one word could breathe so much confidence into his body.

Daniel was heavy and hard in your hand, and you took a moment to stroke him to get him fully hard, marvelling at the sheer weight and size of him. Of course, he couldn’t possess the personality and looks, he had to have the full package as well.

“You sure you want this?” He asked and you glanced up at him.

“I want this.” You almost said need, but bit your tongue.

You looked for any sign that maybe he didn’t want this, but you could find none and that made the urgency flare up in your chest as you brought him closer to you. He went easily, hands gripping your thighs to spread them.

“Spread your legs wider.” He instructed you and you did as you were told, ignoring the slight ache in your thighs at being stretched so wide.

Maybe you should’ve felt embarrassed by the position you were in, on display on your kitchen counter with your dress flipped up to reveal your bottom half. But Daniel was roving his eyes over you like he hadn’t seen anything like it before, and that was enough for the last smidge of self-consciousness to dissipate into thin air.

He took himself in his hand and stroked a couple of times, and you were so mesmerised by the sight of it that you almost missed the way he suddenly halted and looked around.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, frowning and he glanced at you.

“Do you have… anything?”

It took a second for you to gather your thoughts and understand what he meant, and dread suddenly sank in your stomach when you realised that no, you really didn’t have protection.

“Shit.” You swore, frowning as you sat up a bit. You looked at him, eyes searching his face as the most stupid idea crept into your mind. “I don’t— I don’t mind?”

His eyebrows jumped, and you couldn’t blame his surprise because it was a reckless move. But you were on the pill and you hadn’t been sexually active for a while. And maybe you shouldn’t, but you trusted Daniel enough.

“I mean, I’m clean and I’m on the pill.” You quickly added when he still hadn’t said anything.

You briefly contemplated sneaking into the sleeping couple’s room and stealing from Kelly, but the sheer horror you felt at the thought of being caught by your brother was enough for you to dismiss that thought. No way.

“I’m clean too.” Daniel said, placing a hand on your cheek and tilting your head up to look at him. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have to do it.”

“I’m sure.” You said and you meant it.

Daniel smiled with a nod, leaning forward to press a tentative kiss to your lips and it didn’t take long to fall back into that previous urgency you’d felt. You loved on his lower lip as he stepped forward, slipping two fingers into you and stretching you out for good measure before he gripped himself in his hand and guided you forward on the counter.

It felt like the breath was stolen from you as he breached you, keeping his eyes on your face to watch for any change and your eyelids fluttered shut as he pushed inside.

“Fuuuuck me.” He dragged out the words, struggling to find his breath at the sheer warmth enveloping him. “Look at me. Keep your eyes on me.”

You blinked them open, mouth falling into an O that looked too inviting for Daniel. He kept his eyes on yours as he bottomed out, waiting for a nod from you before he pulled back and thrusted forward, jolting you and making you moan out.

“Fuck, baby.” He set up a good rhythm, leaning his forehead against yours as he started fucking you. “Sound so pretty for me but you need to keep it down. Wouldn’t want your brother to find us like this, do you?”

He groaned when you tightened around him, giving you a particularly hard thrust in retaliation that made you whimper.

“That got you tight.” He turned his head to nudge his nose against your cheek, and you could feel him smile slowly against your skin. You could only imagine how downright filthy it looked. “Does that turn you on? The fact that someone could walk in and see you like this?”

It was a horrifying thought, but you couldn’t deny the heat spreading through your entire body as you imagined it. And Daniel could feel it affecting you, feeling you squeeze around his cock so deliciously tight that he almost faltered in his rhythm.

Your stomach was starting to tighten up, a telltale sign that you were so close but you still needed that incentive; that last push over the edge of wild oblivion. Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck to keep you upright while the other one found a home between your legs, fingers a little too slippery to cause any real friction. You let out a frustrated huff and wiped your hands on your dress before returning to touching yourself.

Daniel had his eyes fastened on you the entire time, feeling dangerously close to climaxing but he refused to be the one to come first, staving off for as long as he could.

It was difficult, it was so hard to keep up pace when you were clenching around him like you were subconsciously trying to keep him deep inside. He glanced up at your face and got exactly a two second warning before your mouth fell open and your legs got tight around him.

“Dan—“ The rest of your moan got choked off against the dampness of his shirt as he placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed your face to his shoulder; a poor attempt at muffling your sounds.

He couldn’t hold it off any longer, burying his face against the side of your head. “Where do you want me?” He should’ve pulled out, and he would if you told him so, but you felt heavenly around him and he momentarily wished that he could bury himself deep in your being and never get up for air.

“In.” Your words were trembling, breathless. “In me, please.”

And who was he to deny that, when you were begging so prettily?

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He gave a thrust, two and let out a guttural moan that he struggled to keep inside. Your breathy little noises as he shot off inside you was the only thing he could hear alongside the rush of blood in his ears. “This cunt.”

Your whole world tilted on its axis and you found yourself on your back, the hard and cool plane of the counter a nice contrast against your sweaty back. A giggle left your lips when you glanced down where Daniel had somehow managed to lose his balance, folding himself on top of you.

Daniel glanced up at the sound of your laughter, a dazed smile creeping onto his face and you couldn’t help but run your fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing the locks away from his forehead so you could get a look at his eyes.

He looked a lot like he did after a gruelling race. Sweaty and flushed, the apples of his cheeks tinted pink. But there was a bliss to him that definitely didn’t come from racing, and you flushed all over when you realized that it was your doing, you’d done that.

It was a powerful feeling to bring a man like that to his knees.

“Sorry.” He apologised as he placed both hands on either side of you, pushing himself up on unsteady feet. He held his hand out and helped you sit up. The stickiness between your legs was starting to cool, feeling uncomfortable and very much like you were in dire need of a shower. “You alright?”

You glanced up at him and smiled. “Perfect.”

He reciprocated the smile, looking like he was a little unsure of how to proceed. You didn’t blame him, because what did you do after that whole ordeal, in a kitchen, nonetheless. You wrapped one leg around his thigh and urged him forward, hands grabbing at his arms when he was close enough.

“You look beautiful.” He said, voice sincere and quiet, just for your ears. It made you feel a little sheepish, but you thought that you’d never get tired of hearing it if it came from his mouth.

“So do you.” You said, words spoken against his lips before he slotted his mouth over yours in a kiss.

The skin around your mouth was feeling a little chafed from his beard, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you let yourself be kissed; lost in the taste and smell of him. It was unbelievable how intoxicating he was.

“I’m gonna need a shower after that.” You said, laughing when he gave you a look and burying your face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, wrapping yourself around him - much like a koala bear. Daniel must’ve mirrored your delirious thoughts, because he spoke up a moment later.

“Alright, you little koala bear.” He laughed, sounding five shades of amused as he wrapped his arms around you.

You slapped at his back, “Do not make that a nickname.”

The counter disappeared beneath you as he lifted you, the feeling of being weightless so sudden and jarring that you let out a yelp; arms clutching at him to not fall. He had no intention of dropping you though, hauling you up in his arms until he was holding you steadily.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, half-hushed and it was kind of ridiculous that you were being mindful of your voice after all the noise you’d surely created a few minutes prior.

The possibility of Max walking in felt a lot more dangerous now that you weren’t blind with lust, and you still didn’t know how Daniel felt about screwing his friend’s sister behind his back. It was a lot of feelings to unpack, but you put it in an imaginary box and locked it away in your mind for another day.

“You said you needed a shower.” His smile was blinding as always when you pulled back to look at him. “I’m here to assist.”

“That’s what they’re calling it nowadays? Assisting?” You joked and Daniel raised his brows in amusement as he began navigating the way to the bathroom.

It was an old house, depriving you of an en suite that you desperately wished you had now. You’d never felt a need for it, seeing as you were living alone, but it would’ve lowered the chances of the other two occupants hearing the shower running so late.

Your concerns went up in smoke when Daniel finally found the bathroom, kicking the door shut gently behind him. It was a failed attempt, the door screeching like something out of a scary movie and it made you muffle your laugh behind your hand.

“Gonna need to oil that, love.” He said, putting you down on your feet.

That’s what you’d told yourself a hundred times since moving in, but it had a weird charm to it so you never did. That, and you just never got around to fixing the door.

There was a bizarre thought that was so fleeting that you dismissed it almost immediately, imagining Daniel dropping by in Spain and coming to visit you between GP's. Him in your kitchen with his guard down, doing maintenance work on your house that so desperately needed it. It warmed your heart to the core, thinking of him squeezing you into his busy schedule but then you thought of Max and your thoughts halted.

Max. He'd done nothing throughout your childhood but protect you, being there for you whenever you needed it and you'd been leaning on each other into adulthood. He was the closest person to you in your life, and the thought of going behind his back made something sour bloom in your mouth.

"Hey."

You looked up at the hushed word, blinking in slight confusion when you saw the concern marring Daniel's face. He must've seen you zone out completely and you realized that you'd been deep in your thoughts for a while because the shower was running already.

Daniel reached a hand out to touch your shoulder, just a quick stroke of his fingers against your skin and you felt your body light up at the slightest touch from him.

"Lost you there for a minute." He said, tilting his head to the side to catch your eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

You looked at him, considered lying, but again, what good would it do?

"Max." You said, the name heavy on your tongue.

His face morphed into something unreadable and he regarded you silently. Like he was trying to reach into your brain and dissect your thoughts.

"Look," He sat down on the edge of the bathtub and peered up at you with his beautifully brown eyes. "I want to explore this with you, see where it takes us. Do you?"

You nodded before he'd finished his sentence, relief seeping into your tense body because he understood your sudden fear, he knew what you'd meant.

"Alright." He gave you a smile, radiant and reassuring. "We don't have to involve Max until we're absolutely sure where we stand."

He made it sound so easy, and maybe it was. Maybe you could do this without involving the outside world, exist in your own little bubble and see where it takes you without the added pressure from the public or either families.

Daniel helped you out of your dress, pressing small and fleeting kisses to your shoulder and arms. It was like he was trying to encourage you to take the plunge.

And in some way you did, as you stepped under the spray of the shower with him.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 fics #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo smut

[call-me-maggie13]

My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.

#gen z post #generation z #gen z experience #tw 9/11 #9/11 mention #9/11 #tw active shooter #active shooter tw #tw gun mention #gun tw #tw abortion mention #tw gun violence #tw bombing #shooting at uvalde #uvalde #uvalde school massacre #uvalde school shooting #the war on Ukraine #ukraine war #fuck russia #george floyd #george floyd protests #Ariana grande concert bombing #notre dame cathedral #notre dame cathedral fire #fire in Notre dame #notre dame fire #sandy hook #sandy hook school shooting #sandy hook shooting

[lady-ashfade]

Percy Jackson Masterlist

Request for this fandom:

Rules.

Angst: blue

Fluff: Pink

Both: Orange

Comfort: purple

A little bit of everything or nothing: green

Yandere: Red & green

*going to finish the first book and the show when it comes out*

Series

A love watered by blood masterlist

Blood and Pressure - yandere pjo

Percy Jackson

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood × Comfort!Goddess!Reader. This is part two

Surprise

Percy Jackson x Apollo's child reader.

Following the tone.

New blood - Male!reader

Percy Jackson hcs?

Surprise- Birthday blurb

Matching flames- Soulmate au

Pretty girl- Fem!reader

A love filled by blood series

Medieval Percy Jackson

Second chance- soulmate au

Yeah, she’s my mom.

He’s growing up (kinda a part too “yeah, she’s my mom)

Brother imagine- Platonic

“Older brother” imagine - platonic

Through my window /// this is part two

I wouldn’t be my family

Pictures on the wall- sister!reader

Teddy bear- Yandere! Platonic!Luke Castellan Vs Yandere!Brother!Percy Jackson × fem!reader

Favorite Jackson- male reader

My Oath- platonic

Sunglasses

The Trio - Platonic

Cold & Chill

Percy Jackson imagine

Ours valentine- Poly!percabath

Naive sister- platonic yandere

On Your Nerves

“Percy…” Imagine

Luke Castellan

Always in the meadow

My girl

Teddy bear- Yandere! Platonic!Luke Castellan Vs Yandere!Brother!Percy Jackson × fem!reader

Naïve sister- Platonic yandere

All For us

Death flower- platonic

Clarisse La Rue

Divine mother- Yan!ares cabin

Yandere!Romantic! Clarisse La Rue x Demeter's daughter!reader

Sunglasses

Annabeth Chase

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood × Comfort!Goddess!Reader. This is part two.

The trio- Platonic

Our valentine- Poly!percabeth

Naive sister- Platonic yandere

Grover Underwood

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood × Comfort!Goddess!Reader. This is part two.

Potatoes and White amaryllis

The trio- platonic

Camp half-blood

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood × Comfort!Goddess!Reader. This is part two.

Divine Mother- Ares cabin x mother goddess

Sunglasses

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson x reader #Disney plus Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase #Annabeth Chase x reader #Grover Underwood x reader #Grover Underwood #yandere percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #yandere luke castellan

[cherryslyce]

Unearthed | Regulus Black

Synopsis: You felt your world turn upside down at the revelation that your husband was a wizard, and you get a sense of deja vu when three teenagers appear on your doorstep seeking him out about a locket.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Muggle!Reader

Notes: Not canon-compliant! Word Count: 3.3k

The warbling of sparrows stir from the swaying trees and into your open window, bristles of morning wind brushing against your night clothes. You stare intently at the stove to your side, back pressed against your kitchen island as you mentally count. The glistening finish of your sage-colored tea kettle shone at you as you pace forward to remove the instrument off the flame.

Regulus was still asleep and the last thing you needed was to interrupt his rest because you wanted a cup of tea. As you steadily pour the water into your mug, your mind spirals into a wave of nostalgia. 

It had been nearly two decades now since the man stumbled into your life with proper-fitted clothes and a closet of skeletons. You hadn’t met Regulus by any conventional means, having found him stumbling around blindly in front of your house, clutching at his head. You remember that it took a few days for the boy to wake after that night, his lithe figure draped across your couch as the sun rose and set. Those days of waiting felt like centuries now that you thought about it. You had been springing back and forth, debating on running over to the closest town for a doctor, but luckily, the boy woke just as your resolve hardened. 

The first thing you had done when Regulus managed to sit up in your living space was offer him a cup of tea, trying to give yourself time to formulate questions as he steadied himself with reality again. He had informed you that night that he had been mugged, and had escaped into the fields within an inch of his consciousness. You had known that he was lying, recognizing that no one was even within a mile radius to do such a thing to him, but you somehow grew to care for him despite your suspicions. After many months of coexisting in your home, with Regulus taking on a good heft of the house chores, he had opened up to you about his family and home life. 

You both sat staring into the streaks of flames stirring in your fireplace, the room gradually becoming enveloped in a blanket of grey as the sun sank further along the horizon. 

“My parents were not good people.” Regulus murmured into the darkness, eyes trained on the pillars of heaty orange lapping at the blocks of wood and bark. 

You gulp and nod along, “Dead like mine, too?” 

“Dead to me,” Regulus supplied, hand reaching up to push his curls back as he continued, “I was not pulling your leg when I told you I had been mugged that night. My parents… they stripped me of my freedom and choices. There wasn’t a day that passed by where I could pinpoint my true aspirations or future. Not a day where I could lift the veil that disillusioned me since birth.” 

Your lips slant down at the abrupt confession, and you could feel your fingers itching to rest on his hand for comfort. Heaving in a tense breath, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your curiosity bleed through, “And the rest of your family?” 

“The same, but my Uncle Alphie, he was different,” Regulus hesitates for a few moments, and you see his face darken, “so was my older brother.” 

Another year after that, he finally cleared up a majority of your suspicions by demonstrating his magic. You went to bed in denial for a week, unable to maintain eye contact with him the whole while as you felt your world flip inside out. Once the reality sank in, you had demanded answers about the secret society that he fled from, trying to wrap your head around the influx of information. 

“So… magic.” You breathe out, eyes flying around the perimeter of your kitchen as you lean back against the faded wooden counter. 

Regulus allows himself a small small before he drops his gaze down towards his dinner plate, “Yes, magic.” 

“Tell me more.” Your tone splintered into brusqueness, leaving no room for Regulus to dodge away.   

Regulus, to his credit, seems hardly perturbed by your request. Nodding jerkily, he takes a sip of water before motioning for you to sit across from him, “What would you like to know?” 

“Everything. Start from the beginning.” Your words are coated in anticipation, eyes glittering brightly as your mouth sets into a firm line. 

Laughter bubbles in Regulus’ throat and he shoots you an indecipherable grin, “As you wish.”

It was a slow process of acceptance, one convoluted with your developing feelings for the boy, eyes no longer seeing a stumbling, comatose boy, but a dependable and bright partner—a life partner. 

You both stewed in silent pining and agony for a few more months before the tension boiled and tipped over the precipice one night with a silent kiss by the fireside. As your relationship continued to bloom, you both decided to move toward the city with the last of your savings. 

“Are you certain?” Regulus whispers against your lips, eyes trailing across the plane of your face. 

You nod and bring a hand to thread through his hair, “I have the money. Besides, a change of scenery would be nice.” 

Regulus hums and catches your lips in a swift kiss, bringing his arms to wrap around your figure. 

Once you both edge back to breath, he gives you a boyish grin before musing, “Thank you.” 

“Good morning, love.” A groggy voice cuts through the air as you squeeze your tea bag against the side of your cup with a spoon. 

Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your mouth tugs upwards as you take in Regulus’ disheveled appearance, “Hello, dear. You’re up early today.” 

Regulus draws his arms around your waist before kissing your temple as he hums, “Couldn’t sleep without you.” 

You huff out a laugh before dropping a hand down to pat his arm, “You don’t have work today, right?” Your eyes drop down to your mug as your head flits through several thoughts about Regulus’ work duties, pleased that the company was flexible, yet you still vied for more. 

“Yeah, got the day off,” he murmurs, burying his face into your shoulder, “how should we spend it?” 

“The new bookstore around the corner?” You hum as you sip on your tea, noting that the brew of jasmine was much more potent than usual. 

Regulus shifts from behind you and maneuvers his chin over your shoulder, “Sounds like a plan. Which reminds me, I should get our bookcase built today, too.” 

“Lots to do.” You murmur absentmindedly, not bothered by the fact that Regulus was now inching to take a sip of your tea. 

He takes a small mouthful of the cooling beverage before brushing his lips against your cheek, “We have all the time in the world, love.” 

“That we do.”

The day seems to speed by in a blur, shrouded with an atmosphere of serenity and bright clouds. Your walk with Regulus through the idyllic streets is bundled with small lingering touches and peaceful silence. As you drift through the bookstore with your husband, you find yourself suppressing a smile as Regulus opts to carry the growing collection between you both, not a peep of complaint slipping past his lips as the sea of pages lengthen in height. 

He had always been good to you in that way, and at first you had chalked it up to him repaying you for providing sanctuary, but you soon learned that such manners were practically instilled in his bones. 

As you both trail towards the check-out line, an idea strikes you and causes you to hum audibly. Regulus peers over at you with an inquisitive gaze, curiosity barred by the need to shuffle forward in line. 

“Dear, we should invite Severus over for dinner.” You mutter in hopefulness, feeling a familiar mawkish pang bud in your chest. Regulus maintained few ties to his life before you, but Severus had been a near constant presence in your life ever since you encouraged him to invite someone to your wedding. You had initially been nonplussed by the doleful man, aware of the turmoil and despair that practically radiated off of him, but you grew to care for him nonetheless. 

“We have to build our bookshelf, no?” Regulus hums with consideration, eyes steeling as he notices a fussing customer holding up the line. 

You wave him off and lift a finger to run along the spines of books in his arms, “Severus can help us if anything. It’s good to get things done without certain abilities every once in a while.” 

Regulus’ lips flicker into a minute grin as he nods, “I’ll send for him when we return home, but he did say he would be rather occupied for a while last time we corresponded.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought, a tidal wave of unease washing over you, “I hope everything is alright.” 

“Severus is quite capable, he’ll be okay.” 

The lingering traces of worry that pervade your mind fail to dissipate as you walk hand-in-hand with Regulus, the both of you intent on heading home as quickly as possible as streaks of grey clouds roll across the sky. 

A sense of foreboding coils around your nerves as you tread closer towards your destination, head thrumming as the sound of your shoes clicking against the concrete permeate into the air. Regulus seems to share your feelings of inexplicable unease as you feel his grip tighten on your hand. 

As you both round the corner of the street and near your front door, you feel yourself stop in your tracks as three figures come into view. 

“Reg?” Your words are barely above a whisper as confusion ousts your previous apprehension. 

Regulus mirrors your feelings, and his perplexity is palpable as he slowly inches forward, “Just some kids, I think.” 

You both mutely compose yourselves as your pacing resumes. As your footsteps echo into earshot for the trio, they all spin around with wide eyes. Your eyes drop down towards the redheaded boy’s hand, gaze narrowing as you discern the outlines of a wand. 

Regulus seems to draw the same conclusions and he steps in front of you as his eyebrows furrowed together, “Hello, can we help you?” 

The three kids, probably no older than 18, share silent looks before the curly-haired girl steps forwards and nods, “Yes, hello. We’re looking for Regulus Black, do you happen to know where we can find him?” 

Your thoughts sputter and whirl as your gaze burns into Regulus’ head, trying to correctly assess the situation at hand. It was entirely possible that these newcomers were enemies seeking to drain Regulus of his life, but it was also plausible that they were completely harmless and you were overestimating the danger and animosity of wizards in general. 

Regulus seems to stew over the same dilemma, and you catch the calculative look that flashes across the girl’s face as she considers your husband’s hesitance. You decide to interject into the tense silence, not wanting to see the situation escalate, “Hello, I’m Y/N. Sorry, we don’t get many visitors in the neighborhood. Are you all a part of a youth group? A church? Unfortunately, if this has to do with fundraising, I don’t think the Black’s are interested, neither will most residents on this street. Perhaps, you can try with the Miller’s down over at that blue house.” 

You plaster on an assuring smile as you point over to yonder, feeling Regulus inch towards you until he was practically pressed against your back. The girl hesitates and looks over her shoulder at her companions as they silently begin to communicate again with wide eyes and emphatic eyebrow raises. 

Finally, one of the boys steps out and into direct view. Your eyes run across his face, catching against his round glasses and black fringe. Regulus tenses against you as the boy peers towards him with striking green eyes, and you’re almost too entranced by their vividness to stay on guard. 

“My name is Harry Potter.” 

The announcement does absolutely nothing for you, but you feel Regulus’ breathing hitch before he relaxes. Your husband brings his hand to rest atop your shoulder as he adjusts the paper bag in his grip, “I see the resemblance now, Harry Potter. Why don’t we all head inside?” 

You mask your bewilderment at the invitation, turning to send a questioning glance at Regulus. The man merely shoots you a look of conflict before he guides you towards the front door. 

As the trio awkwardly shuffle into your house, lingering in your entryway, you shoot them a small smile before beckoning them inside. You still had your reservations, but it seemed that Regulus recognized them — or Harry, to some extent. 

The girl slowly walks further into your home, stopping in front of your living room as she glances at the large box propped up against the wall. 

“Ah, we were planning on building a bookshelf.” You supply, bringing a hand to run across the nape of your neck. 

The girl nods and sends you a shy smile, “I’m Hermione Granger.” 

“Y/N Black.”

Your name seems to drop some intangible bombshell on the three young wizards as they all peer at you with wide eyes. Clearing your throat you turn towards the ginger as you gesture towards the couch, “You can all sit. And I don’t believe I got your name earlier.” 

They all trudge towards your couch and the boy nods towards you, disbelief still painting his face, “Ron Weasley.” 

“A Weasley and a Potter. Interesting.” Regulus’ voice emits from behind you, evidently finished with putting your newly purchased books away. He approaches the living room and stops to stand beside you, eyes assessing the three as they shuffle uncomfortably under your husband’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You turn to look at him, nudging your hip against his, “Care to explain?” 

“After we get answers,” Regulus murmurs, eyes trailing towards the loveseat, “Come, love.” 

As you both settle on the cushions, Regulus immediately bypasses formalities, still uncertain about your guests’ presence, “So, there must be a reason that we’re meeting this way, Mr.Potter.” 

Harry visibly gulps at the intense look in Regulus’ eyes, clearing his throat as he leans forward, “Yes, we’ve come because of this,” you tilt your head to the side as the boy fishes out a pendant from his pocket before he holds it up to you both. 

Regulus’ hand drops to your thigh as he hums, “I see.” His tone indicated a lack of surprise, yet an unwillingness to indulge. You knew Regulus’ ways of dancing around conversations well. 

“You have the real one.” Harry’s words are firm, eyes stormy as he seems to drift into thought. 

“So you have come to find me, and pray tell, how did you find me?” Regulus’ flinty words have Harry retreating back imperceptibly, eyes flickering away to consider his answer. 

“Well, you used quite a bit of magic to make this.” Harry clears his throat, slowly retracting the dangling locket from the air. 

Regulus quietly huffs through his nose, leaning back as he hums, “Tracking spells. Of course. I assume you’re here for the real deal then?”

Your mind was spinning in circles as you tried to keep up with the conversation, having half the mind to be disconcerted by how you both were effectively tracked down by three kids. Hermione licks her lips before leaning forward to address Regulus, eyes scanning him with confusion, “How did you survive that night, sir? If what Harry told us was true, that cave…” 

“You lot aren’t the sort to dawdle, are you?” Regulus muses, fingers brushing down to your knee, “To answer your question, Ms.Granger, I received some help that night.” 

“Help?” Ron interjected, eyebrows raised in perplexion as he glanced at Harry for an answer. 

At Regulus’ admission, you redirect your attention to him, lips furling into a faint frown as you question all the hidden facets of his life. Of course, you knew the foundational details about the magical world, and perhaps tidbits of his past, but the avenue of conversation unfolding before you was completely foreign. 

Regulus peers at you for a brief moment before he nods, “Yes. Severus helped me. He gave me the antidote for the potion inside of the basin.” 

Ron sputters at this. “Severus? As in Snape?” He spins to look at Hermione who looks equally dumbstruck, yet she steadily caps away her shock with a hum of acknowledgment. 

Harry nods slowly as he runs his thumb over the pendant in his palm, “He’s a traitor.” 

You gape at the uninhibited jab, wanting to insert yourself into the exchange to defend your friend. Regulus pats your knee before steadily riposting, “Self-servitude finds companionship in loneliness.”

“Is that the life motto for all you snakes?” Ron mutters, hands clasped together as he leans his elbows on his knees. 

Regulus seems hardly fazed by the boy’s acrid tone, eyes slowly rising to gaze away, “You know us Slytherins. Self-preservation and then some.” 

“To see the right and not to do it is cowardice.” Hermione blanches, mouth set into a thin line as she examines the wall opposite of her. 

“Confucius.” You muse, hand trailing down to cover Regulus’.

Regulus nods and gives Hermione a look of consideration, “Gryffindor, then.” The girl nods in confirmation before tilting her head, causing Regulus to continue his train of thought, “I was a bit partial to betting on Ravenclaw. I suppose you hear that often. That being said, I implore you to examine the nuances to Severus’ situation. I can assure you, he is not your enemy.” 

The three teenagers seem to sink into their thoughts and Regulus takes this as his cue to slowly push himself up, giving your knee a parting squeeze as he huffs, “I do hope you all know how to destroy it, and I hope you’re able to accomplish your endeavors, Harry Potter.” 

Without waiting for a response, Regulus cascades out of the room and up the stairs, only the sound of his muffled footsteps occupying the hushed atmosphere. You slap your palms against your knees as you begin to get up too, mouth slanting into a small smile, “Would any of you like some tea?” 

The shock from the impromptu visit from the three teens stew in the air long after they departed from your home, eyes glistening with determination as Regulus relinquished the mysterious locket to them. A lingering itch of curiosity occasionally swept through your head, but you figured that there would come a time when answers would be granted to you.   

You just hadn’t figured such a time would arise so soon after. Not even a week after meeting Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, another novel face was taking residence by your front door. 

“Hello, may I help you?” You asked pleasantly, propping your hip against your door frame as you balanced a stack of towels by your side. 

The man surveys you with poorly concealed anxiety before he clears his throat and nods, “Hi, I’m looking for a Regulus Black. I was told he lives here.” 

You tilt your head and look over your shoulder at the clock, “Yes. He won’t be home for another hour or two. May I ask how you know him?” 

“My name is Sirius. Sirius Black. I’m, uh, his older brother.” 

Shock flashes across the forefront of your mind at the man’s words, and you barely thread together any semblance of composure as you nod, “Please come in, I think a much needed chat is in order.” 

“Thank you.” He breathes out, straightening his coat with a gulp. 

“My pleasure, Sirius. I’m Y/N Black, by the way. Which, I suppose, makes you my brother-in-law.” 

“Wait—I'm sorry, what?” 

masterlist

#regulus black #regulus black imagine #regulus x reader #regulus black x reader #regulus black angst #regulus black scenario #the noble house of black #harry potter imagine #harry potter series #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #regulus black fluff #regulus black x you

[mrskokushibo]

A Prayer for the Damned

Yoriichi x Fem!Reader one shot

NSFW I 18+ I MDNI I

Synopsis: Yoriichi is your best friend, but will your friendship survive the night? This is a story about transformations: of seasons, life and feelings. And Yoriichi is about to show you a side of him you never knew before.... Are you ready to worship the sun?

Warnings: Smut. Anal. Oral. Vaginal sex. Analingus. Fingering. Cockwarming. Slight size kink. MANGA SPOILER

Word count: 3908

Masterlist

Image source: wallpaperflare.com

This story was written as per the following request from the wonderful and talented ❤❤❤ @muzanswaifu:

Can I get a yorrichi smut bestie with a fem! reader?

And i really liked the tension from your last fic where koku was mad at reader so for this fic can you flip it and make reader mad at yorrichi for doing something negligent to her and hurting her feelings?

It doesnt have to be that prompt tho, any yorrichi smut will satisfy me ❤️❤️❤️ love u

As he was walking toward his friend’s house on the outskirts of town, Yoriichi could not help but contemplate the change in the air that his favourite season was slowly bringing about. There was always something special about autumn, something that resonated with his calm and thoughtful personality. Vegetation burst into fiery reds and warm oranges and yellows, all the shades of flame, as if to mark its inevitable transition into death and winter. An affirmation that there was no life without death, no rebirth into spring without going through the natural process. Just like the human soul. And tonight, the air was finally cool enough to absorb both the smell of withering nature as well as the fires carried from human dwellings, all blending into an intoxicating scent.

Normally all this would make him at ease, but tonight he was unable to enjoy any of it. His thoughts were occupied by something he never thought possible, a tragedy so unimaginable that one would think could only happen in tales told to children on dark winter nights. His beloved brother turned into a demon.  His heart was full of sorrow and regret, he was on the verge of hating himself. There were ways of preventing what happened, so many choices- his choices, that led to this. He could have been firmer, but also more understanding with Michikatsu, not be foolish to trust that somehow, he didn't really harbour such jealousy toward Yoriichi after all. But how can you defy sibling love; because he loved his brother and he chose to believe that Michikatsu, somewhere deep under the layers of bitterness and spite, loved him too. Twins share a special bond after all.

He finally reached his destination, but before entering the house, he stopped and looked up at the sky. The moon was a bright crescent, with thin veils of smoke and clouds obscuring parts of it and giving it a reddish hue. The sky was shifting purple, the same purple that adorned Michikatsu’s clothes and that also was the colour of his eyes. Staring at the moon, Yoriichi could not help but think of the ancient legend of Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu, the gods of Sun and Moon, that were tied up in an endless battle.

'Is this what is going to become of us, brother?’

*****

Only a few candles illuminated the otherwise dark room, incense smoke, and cooking vapour swirled intertwined through the air as if performing an intricate dance. A small figure knelt in front of a shrine at the far end of the room.

You held your face in your hands, dried-up tears stinging your eyes and skin.

‘Ancestors, I pray to you, wherever he is, please look after him, look after his soul.’

You knew that he was now bound for hell…. if anyone ever managed to kill him. Michikatsu has always been the one you were attracted to, in contrast to his stoic brother, he was more open and livelier, his eyes always lit by a spark, a subtle disclosure of a fire hiding beneath the tamed and friendly surface. He smiled more than Yoriichi too. But the two of you were not friends, neither did you want friendship only…When he left his wife and children to join the corps, you explained his behaviour by him being forced into a loveless, arranged marriage. By the way, the family he left behind was well looked after, with the entire estate being written over to them, thus securing their and even their prospective descendants’ future. All these excuses for his misdeeds were now coming back at you with full force.

There was one other you blamed even more than yourself: Yoriichi. His lack of resolve and action, his indolence, was what led to this. You were convincing yourself of it. Your feelings were connected by a pendulum swinging between anger and grief. And how do you even grieve someone who is not dead, who is … undead…

Your thoughts were interrupted by shoji door sliding softly. It was Yoriichi. He slid the door closed just as gently as he opened it and walked towards you with floorboards creaking under the weight of his tall body. He stopped a few steps away from you so as not to disturb you in your prayers. It was Wednesday, the day of your weekly dinner together. You were close friends since childhood and he was one of the most reliable people you have ever met. Always patient and with a soft manner. But now, your fury was blinding you, almost undoing the bond the two of you shared. You slowly stood up and turned around to face him, using all your willpower to restrain yourself from lashing out at him.

‘Are you all right (y/n)?’ he asked in his deep hushed voice.

‘I do not know, I really don’t know, Yori. Are you?’

He looked away without answering. The flickering of candlelight reflected in his nearly expressionless maroon eyes. You walked around him toward the firepit to check on the food that was simmering gently over the comforting heat.

‘I am sorry, but dinner will be very simple tonight. I just did not have the energy to make anything elaborate.’

‘That is perfectly fine (y/n). You know I am not fussy, and besides, you were very busy recently.’

*Very busy recently* what the hell *why is he dancing around the topic like this? * you thought, your aggression going up a notch.

In silence, you started plating the food. You passed him the plates and cutlery and he placed them on the table.

‘Would you like something stronger to drink? I know I do’ you asked.

He nodded in approval and sat down on the tatami in front of his plate. You grabbed the bottle of rice wine, and two cups and followed suit. You both ate in silence while you kept on filling up your cups with the strong drink. Due to his sheer size and muscle mass, the alcohol had very little effect on him, but you were getting drunk. Well, not the type of losing all control drunk, but drunk enough to no longer care to have restraint.

After dinner, he insisted to clean up while you sat with the drink in your hand. The alcohol was making your brain fog up. You even caught yourself watching him in a way you normally would not watch a friend. He was a man after all, and a gorgeous one at that, with the same perfectly symmetrical facial features and the tall and muscular body as Michi. And yet so different. Despite his stoic behaviour and calm eyes, his aura was like fire, the red mark on his face, maroon eyes and black hair with flame-red highlights, and his clothes to match. A warmth started to spread down your belly. You had to suppress this, it was so wrong to lust for a friend, and for someone that you now were so cross with. The mixture of embarrassment and anger was explosive enough to make you leap up to him suddenly.

‘How can you be so unmoved by it all? Are you not human? It is your fault he turned into a demon. You could have prevented this from happening, but of course, you did not. It would disturb your sacred peace, Gods forbid’. You were now beyond caring and were ready to say anything that came to your mind. 

  ‘(Y/n), please stop. Not tonight. I am just as moved by this as you are. Believe me, but I think we should sleep on it and talk tomorrow when you are more, well, reasonable.’

He was now just about to walk away, presenting you with the silent treatment that you by now were familiar with being his irritating way of handling or rather avoiding conflict and confrontation.

  This was the last drop you needed to push you over the edge. You lunged forward to slap him in the face, but you did not even manage to swing halfway when his reflexes kicked in and he caught your hand, firmly but gently. You lost your balance and fell forward, the stopping point being Yoriichi. You literally fell into his chest and instead of pulling away, you stayed there, as if paralysed. This was the first time you ever had such close physical contact with him. Due to his reserved manner you never even exchanged so much as a hug. Being this close now made you realise the enormous size difference between you two. His stature was imposing, solid with broad shoulders and strong hips. You could not help but imagine what it would feel like to have him doing things to you…

  The intoxication was making you weak, you really could not move away now, or maybe subconsciously, you simply didn’t want to. Being so close to him, his warmth and smell started to bring memories of Michi and you just wanted to stay like this a while longer imagining it was him instead. Yoriichi’s hips were on the level of your belly, the bulge in his hakama growing from the close contact. And that is where you snapped. Why be so decent and proper when you were pent up with anger, an unfulfilled desire for Michi, and whatever else that was driving you crazy? All these emotions went straight to your sex. You started rubbing his hardening cock through the fabric of his hakama and went down on your knees to start taking it off him, yanking unkindly on the belts holding it up.

  All that time Yoriichi was completely still, shocked at your willingness to change things so recklessly between you, what he thought was a beautiful friendship. When you went down on your knees, he could not help himself anymore. He grabbed your head between his hands and tilted it so that he could look you in the eye.

  ‘Stop! This is not the way I want to fu…´He whispered embarrassed with what he was just about to say.

  Yes, he desired you for a while now, but he respected you too much to ever entertain the idea. Tonight though, your anger, the alcohol, and the oppressive atmosphere of this autumn night created a chain reaction impossible to stop. He helped you up and took your hand, the look in his eyes changed.

  ‘Come’ he said quietly, his deep soft voice sounding with a promise of something you never imagined would happen. You followed him to the bedroom.  

  Well in the bedroom he stopped just next to the futon and leaned down to you and slowly started kissing you. He was gentle, the kisses like a flutter of butterfly wings, continuing down your neck and chest, he was now on his knees opening your kimono and continuing to kiss down your breasts and then your belly. He did not even touch your erect nipples or aching groin yet, but you were already overflowing with need. Your clothes fell to the ground while he resorted to sitting down to get comfortable access between your legs. He kissed your folds while caressing your back and buttocks. And that is when he suddenly parted the soft flesh of your labia and started licking you between them. Simultaneously, he reached up to your breasts and started to slowly roll one of your nipples between his fingers. A loud moan left your lips, your pussy leaking onto his tongue. 

You started tugging at his kimono, desperate to see his naked torso. He complied and soon you were able to finally admire him in the privacy of your own home. And it was a sight for sore eyes… You were sliding your hands across his torso, feeling the broad neck and the hard triangle of his shoulders, his bulky biceps, toned pecs and abs, and the perfect triangle running down to his groin. Your insatiable hunger for his magnificent body was growing by the minute and you craved to see what was hiding in his hakama. You had an idea from when you stumbled into him, but still. You needed to see it, touch it, feel it inside you.

  Sitting in front of you like this was not the most comfortable of positions, so he directed you slowly to the futon until you were laying down with his head between your legs. He was rubbing you up and down your inner thighs and pushing your legs toward your torso to grant himself better access to you, until he was comfortably positioned to focus on diving into your sex. Tongue tracing up and down, lapping up our slick. He alternated licking with sucking on your clit, just lightly at first to get you used to it, but eventually harder and harder as your arousal intensified. It was as if he could read your body, and most likely he could, possessing extraordinary senses and access to the transparent world. Your moans pointed him in the direction of the most efficient moves. You could feel his warm breath on your cunt and you were slowly losing yourself.

You started bucking your hips to rub yourself on his mouth, but strong hands stopped you and pushed your hips down, instead, he started copying your movement by using his tongue. He was licking in circles around your clit, faster and faster and faster, with increasing pressure on the swollen nerve bundle. His fingers were deep in your pussy, rubbing firmly on your g-spot. And then you felt the indescribable pleasure of a finger tracing around your asshole. A throaty moan left your mouth, this was so dirty. He rubbed harder around your rear entrance while thrusting his fingers into your sopping pussy and running circles with his tongue around your clit. All through this he was basically completely silent, only releasing a heavy sigh now and then. Occasionally, he would lift his gaze to meet yours.

With every lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud, the knot in your belly was being wound up tighter and tighter. All of a sudden, he inserted a finger into your asshole, adding to your already intense pleasure. You were now losing all control of yourself. The knot finally burst and you squirted your juices all over his face in the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced. Your legs were shaking from the overstimulation as he kept on tracing circles around your clit. Eventually, he took mercy on you and stopped, wiping your cum from his face with his forearm. His narrowed eyes looked up at you and in the faint light of the candle, the red pupils had almost an intensity of a demonic gaze.

  Without losing eye contact, he started removing his hakama. You swallowed when his cock sprang out freely. It was huge, long, and thick, with a slight curve, pale on the shaft with a bright red tip, and it looked like it had some weight to it, not surprisingly since he was so tall and solid. In the hazy state, you were in, the words that left your mouth came out almost automatically.

‘Yori, fuck my ass...’

You knew this would hurt, but right now, physical pain was all you wanted, all you needed to numb the inner fury that was ravaging you. He did not say anything in response. His eyes narrowed a little, but he knew you well enough to see when you meant business, and he was about to respect your wish.

So just like that, he got up and said ‘I will only be a second.’ And quickly left the room.

You could hear him rummage through the pantry and a few moments later he was back with a bottle of oil. Your pelvic muscles contracted in renewed arousal. So, he was up for it… You turned around and lay down on your stomach. He climbed on the bed and placed himself between your legs. His hands massaging your ass and spreading your buttocks, you could hear him open the bottle and soon oil was running down your lower back and onto your soft cheeks. With determined movement, he was spreading the oil all over your ass, fingers circling closer and closer to your asshole, his mouth kissing and tongue licking around the sensitive opening. Oiled finger started to claim entry to your puckering hole, first one, then two, then three, and finally you could feel the tip of his cock starting to push against the opening. He was going slowly, with excessive amounts of oil as a lubricant, sliding in his cock into you, for what it felt like a very long time. You were squirming in pleasure at the new sensation.

When he finally bottomed out, he stopped.

‘Are you ready?’

You nodded in reply. He then began to pump his cock inside you. The pace was extremely slow at the start, but once he felt you relaxed, he started to pump harder and faster. His movements were steady and precise.

‘Come inside me’ your voice almost commanding.

You wanted to be sore, you wanted the rush of this. He shifted to hover straight over the top of you, his whole body in plank position, supported on his powerful arms, hammering his cock from straight above you. You could hear his breath speed up and sweat drops now falling on your back. His hips hitting your soft butt cheeks emitted a quiet slapping sound. A strong thrust later and he emptied the content of his balls into your ass. His after spasm made his whole body shake and he pulled out gently out of you.

‘Wait here, I need to clean myself up, I will bring some towels for you too.’ When he was ready, he came back with a damp hot towel and cleaned your still pulsing hole.

He then slumped on his back next to you. You turned around to your side to face him. You could not stop feasting your eyes on the sight that was in front of you. The smooth skin stretched so perfectly over his strong muscles, now all covered with small droplets of sweat, his long mane spread out around him. You were getting addicted to this, you understood now why women behaved so awkwardly around him, giving him hungry looks that he never reciprocated. Were you blind all that time? Well, I guess back then you foolishly convinced yourself that Michi was the one for you, and well, they were so alike, being twins. But now, you were realising that appearance alone was not all that made Yoriichi so intoxicating to you. His inner fire, so well hidden away, was hotter than anything that Michi ever possessed.

You were growing wild, cautiously you crept closer to him and cuddled up to his side, slowly embracing his chest with your arm. You then started to massage his chest, your hand slowly sliding down toward his groin. You were now massaging his large hips, avoiding his cock for now, teasing, mostly yourself as all you wanted was to grab hold of his delicious cock. He closed his eyes, enjoying the treatment you were gifting him. You ran out of patience with yourself and started stroking his cock. You grabbed it, pumping up and down the entire thick length. You then got up on all four and started to lick his veiny shaft. You could finally taste him and the salty precum was making you delirious, heat spreading in your stomach, increasing the ache you felt deep in your cunt.

As your arousal was getting stronger again, you were faced with a dilemma. On one hand, you really wanted him to come in your mouth, but at the same time, you were desperate for your own release. You sensed that one more orgasm could make him drained, as emotionally exhausted as he must have been after the week’s events. What if his rebound time got too long or he was not even willing to go again? No, you decided to fulfill your own needs, the first orgasm coming from your clit only, you needed a deeper sensation, you needed to be shaken out of the haze, and clear your thoughts.

You sucked his cock for a little while longer, swallowing it all the way to the hilt, your tongue drawing small circles on the sensitive tip. Yoriichi was moaning quietly, with his deep voice turning hoarse every time you sunk your head on his length. With a last lewd lick to the veiny underside, you shifted yourself and straddled him. Hovering your ass over his groin, you grabbed hold of his erect cock and started slowly lowering yourself on him, savouring the sensation of his generous member stretching every crevice and fold of your insides, making you feel fuller than you could ever imagine possible. He was now all the way to the balls in your throbbing pussy.

The look in his eyes was pure lust, the maroon now so dark under half-closed lids, that it almost made his pupils look black. You started riding him, your breasts bouncing, making him fixate his intense gaze on your soft mounds. His hands were now resting on your waist and soon he started to slide them all over you, feeling your back, and ass, and finally grabbed both of your breasts, squeezing them roughly, so they formed perfect circles with a delightful cleavage in between. You started to slowly reach the peaks of your ecstasy, you were slamming yourself harder and harder on his groin. As your movements intensified, he began pinching your nipples and that turned you into overdrive. Your walls clamping on him, his hands pinching both nipples, the relentless pace of your own hips, faster, harder, you were so close now.

Your climax came from deep inside your spasming cunt and you screamed. The sensation lasted long enough to make you almost pass out, trembling with aftershocks of the extreme pleasure you just experienced. The sheets under you were now soaked, you must have squirted all over him. While you were slumped on top of Yoriichi, he started working toward his own release. His strong hips were now bucking up into you, thrusting his cock deep into your slick-filled insides. Obscene, wet, and sloppy sounds of flesh pounding flesh, your moans and his heavy breathing were filling the room. You felt his cock swell inside you and you were soon filled with the warmth of his semen coating your clenching walls. Exhausted, covered with sweat and cum, his cock still inside you, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

*****

The first rays of the morning sun peeking through the window shine on the two lovers still sleeping in the same embrace they slumped into from the peaks of their climax. As the day wipes away the dark of night and the Sun outshines the Moon, so does love conquer fear and grief. This was heaven, him, the man you knew for so long and yet never knew well enough until last night. All thoughts of Michikatsu washed away now, it was only Yoriichi that mattered. If the two of you were forced to leave this place, then so be it. You were his if he wanted you to be. You understood that bathing in the rays of his warm aura and worshipping his body in return for the light, was something you could do for the rest of your days. You knew he was to become your everything. He was…

…. your Sun.

----------------------------------------------------------

As always, a big thank you to my peeps for providing daily inspiration:

@muzanswaifu @doumadono @muzansfangs @koku-shibou @kokusfluffyhair @dudeandduchess @ask-the-upper-moons @paintoreos @yoriichiitsugikuni @koyuki-the-flower @fuckkyourlife @nakimex @dahliamalfoy97 @chibi-koku @sunsblaze @angelltheninth @xxsabitoxx @ask-yoriichi @doumaslotus

Reblogs and feedback are welcome!!

#demon slayer #demon slayer smut #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba smut #yoriichi tsugikuni #yoriichi smut #kny yoriichi #yoriichi x reader #demon slayer yoriichi #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny x you #yoriichi x you #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x female reader #michikatsu tsugikuni #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba x you #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny fanfic #kny #smut #yoriichi #yoriichi x y/n #yoriichi x female reader #yoriichi tsugikuni smut

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

#ghost mw2 #price mw2 #cod modern warfare #gaz mw2 #soap mw2 #call of duty #angel/devil au #141 x reader #141 x male reader #poly!141 x reader #let me cook! #LET ME COOK!

[zorosbeau33]

Courting Gifts~ One Piece Omegaverse Headcanon Part 1!

Starring: Ace and Luffy! x gender neutral reader Genre: Fluff, sfw AU: Omegaverse, Omega Reader Wc: 1180 TW: Mentions of battle Masterlist~ Part 2~ Is ready! Thank you everyone for all your support! All characters involved in this fic are legal age or older in my au hope you enjoy!

This Goofy goofball knows exactly how to court. He gives me soft alpha/strong beta vibes. And he learned from Makino the ways to court long ago.

HOWEVER that being said, he also likes making you laugh. Courting gifts when it was just a crush were often goofy and maybe small inside jokes, or even mini pranks. 

Like a cupcake with sour flavored icing, still good but not at all what you were expecting. Boy did he giggle and laugh when your face puckered up with confusion.

Once he realizes these feelings are here to stay, or if you take initiative and heavily hint or gift him something. Then he gets sincere and downright smitten and soft

I hope you like the color orange, because he thinks you look so cute in the fuzzy luxury fur blanket with orange silk lining. Yes the fur has been dyed orange to match as well and you stick out like a sore thumb on this winter island but you're warm!

He is much more of a simple gift kinda guy, first sign is him not just sharing his food with you but getting a plate and filling it for you before looking after himself. 

He long ago memorized your favorite food 

He uses his devil fruit as a gift for you as well…yes in his mind warm hugs or warm handed deep tissue massages count as courting gifts. They're a promise from him to you he will take care of you forever if you allow him.

He has never understood collecting shiny rocks, seashells, and the like…until now. Something about courting makes every exceptional seashell and rock extra special now and if he thinks theyre pretty he will pocket them to give to you later.

“The way it shined reminded me of your eyes/smile”

He's much more of a physical show rather than buying gifts. So his presents may not be noticed immediately.

Giving you rides in his flame boat (he has to carry you so his flames dont set you on fire and boy does he love carrying you now)

Insisting on being the one to be paired up with you for anything and everything. From crew game night, to exploration parties, to mission assignments, even to his previously hated cleaning duties. 

Soft touches, on your waist, your hand. To help you get across a large gap (if he doesn't just pick you up). To reassure you if you’re expressing a moment of doubt/trouble. When he thinks your smile is especially bright and he just needs to touch your cheek to ensure you’re real.

 Or to push you behind him in times of danger or conflict, yes you can take care of yourself BUT he wants to be your support and fighter. He is first to cheer you on in a fight, but if he can prevent a needless dangerous encounter he will put himself in front so any animosity is directed at him not you.

When he realizes you might want clothes, or scented items he goes to Marco.

He understands the process, he gets how to scent something. However he wants his brother figure and the very honest bestie to help him judge which ones are best. He doesn’t want to over scent something and have it be oppressive. And he knows he’s rough on clothes so he’s making sure the things he’s giving you are good quality still so they’ll last as long as you want to keep them.

He also gives you a nickname, you’ve always had one but it was more of a teasing best friend kind of thing. Suddenly you have a much more dignified and polite nickname…its also a very classic 50’s romance sort of nickname like Doll, or Pumpkin, or Kitten…or Angel

Okay he’s alpha, if that wasn’t evident from his emperors haki and being captain etc 

Unlike his brother he is dumb…very dumb. Has never cared about courting a day before in his life. Used to say “EW” and stick out his tongue (even at 16)

He doesn’t even realize at first that the things he is doing is courting when he first starts. Probably because he doesn’t realize at first that he has feelings for you.

Robin did from day one, Zoro did maybe the first week, Sanji had suspicions too after a month or so, and the others later feel like they should have seen it coming since he constantly talked about how mouth-watering you smelled and loved to cling around you and just burrow in your neck to snuffle you. He learned not to nip when Nami yelled at him for it the first day he met you. Like I said the others feel they should have seen this sooner.

Giving you bits of his food, scenting you, constantly asking to hold your hand, and giving you every single cool thing he sees for you to “keep safe” but if you try to give them back he’d “no thanks you keep them!” then laugh and bounce off

Unlike what anyone would have expected Luffy figures out his emotions for you very quickly. It didn’t take Robins hints to him, he knew after you all finally got in a large altercation together against the world government or some pirates. He was always protective of his nakama, but before the enemy could land the devastating blow to your back in the battle. Luffy was screaming in rage. Bounding across the battlefield to you to protect HIS friend. His…ohhh…

He talked to Robin and Nami, they advised him on courting and how to make you his. He only grasped 30% but he’s trying

He would make the ship go broke in order to buy you every cool thing, or every soft nesting thing, or all the food you could eat. 

The king of bringing you random plucked wildflowers (several have been confiscated by Chopper as they were poisonous plants, Luffys eye for weird things haven gotten the best of him)

They're messy but he learns to make flower crowns for you both to wear. Talks about making them for your future kids

He didn’t used to own much clothing, but now he is expanding his wardrobe just so he can have more things that smell like him to wrap you up in.

You have exclusive hat permission, don’t abuse it but if you ever ask him, he does not mind putting it on your head for a while

He thinks you look so good in it too, makes him puff up his chest and yell to the world how awesome you are.

He has bought you one very nice present, one he had to work his butt off to get. Literally, Nami made him get a job on an island to pay for it and he was actually sincere while working there (sorry Baratie). 

It's a unisex gold bangle bracelet with a red ruby with your and his initials engraved in the gold along with the date you joined his crew (because yes he remembers the date perfectly)

#omegaverse headcanons #alpha luffy x reader #alpha luffy #one piece omegaverse headcanon #luffy x reader #luffy x gender neutral reader #alpha luffy x Omega reader #alpha ace #beta ace #alpha ace x reader #beta ace x reader #one piece headcanons #luffy x reader headcanons #ace x reader headcanons #luffy headcanons #ace headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanons #omegaverse one piece x reader #omegaverse one piece x reader headcanon #omegaverse luffy #omegaverse ace #omega reader

[throneofsmut]

BOUND IN FLAMES - Part 9

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister- Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

A / N: I’m back !! sorry for being so inconsistent and inactive but i hope you guys like this part.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep, but it couldn’t have been for long because from the window in Eris’s cabin — our cabin — I could still see the night sky and lit bonfires in the distance. We were still in the same position we were in when we had finished fucking.

Me on top of him with him still inside of me.

Eris still had a hand on my hip while the other rubbed lazily across my back.

I slowly push up, my hands braced against his muscular chest, “How long was I asleep ?” I whispered, my voice still thick with sleep.

He didn’t respond, he only gave me a small smile and continued to rub his hands along my thighs.

“How long was I asleep ?” I asked again, and noticed a hint of red in his cheeks. “You were asleep too ?”

Eris let out a small laugh, “Until you started squirming trying to get more comfortable.”

I let out a small laugh of my own, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll wake you up before I go back.” Something like anger and pain seemed to flash across his face, his eyes, at the last four words he spoke.

“Before you go back… Under the Mountain ?”

He nods. Once. Tightly.

My hands cupped his face, making him meet my gaze, “I don’t want to sleep then. Let’s spend our last night together.”

Those amber eyes, his eyes, searched my face, for what I don’t know, but then he was kissing me. Wordlessly he pulled away and then he was carrying me to the bathroom and sat me atop the counter.

I watched him as he filled the tub with water, added soaps and oils to it. Grabbed bottles of hair products and towels before setting them on the chair near the tub then carrying me to the tub and placing me in it. He followed in right after and silently washed my hair and my skin. Placing soft kisses as he went and I did the same for him. When we were done he dried us off and then we dressed.

I was waiting for him to finish lacing up his boots and he caught me yawning, “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep, little flame ?”

“I’m sure,” I nod. “Do you have any food here ? I’m starving.”

“No, but, there is an orange grove and grape vineyard a mile back.”

I arch a brow, “What kind of grapes ?”

“Green.”

“Autumn or Spring ?”

“Autumn,” he smirks, “why ?”

“I haven’t had Autumn grapes in years and they��re my favorite.”

He laughs softly, “So, no, oranges ?”

“I mean, I love oranges too but, I don’t want to peel them. I hate how my hands feel after. And Autumn grapes are always crispy.”

He walks up to me, placing his hands on my hips, “I’ll peel them for you.”

But before I get a chance to respond he leads me out of the cabin and the crisp autumn night breeze hits my face. Eris puts his arm over my shoulders, tucking me into him and my hand fists the back of his tunic as if he’ll vanish. As he leads us down a trail, towards the vineyard and grove.

“So your favorite color is blue and autumn green grapes are your favorite, you love oranges. . . What else ?” Eris asks.

“What do you want to know ?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“I don’t know anything about you. So how about a question for a question ?” I offer.

“All right, fair enough.”

“What’s your favorite color ?” I ask.

“Red.”

I snort, “That’s not surprising.”

“Family ?” He asks.

“My mother died when I was young and my father doesn’t know about me… at least he acts like he doesn’t.”

My mate leans down and places another kiss atop my head, “I’m sorry, little flame.”

“Me too,” I whisper. “Anyways, what about you ?”

“My mother and father are both still alive. No sisters. Six younger brothers, but two died years ago.”

“Lucien told me about that. Where you. . . one of the ones—“

“One of the ones holding him down while his lover was executed ? No.” He looks over his shoulder, “Who do you think got word to Tamlin and slowed down my other brothers ?”

“Does Lucien know ?” I ask.

“If he does, he doesn’t show it.” He answers. “What about you, any siblings ?”

“No,” I breathe. “But, after my mother died, another family took me in and they already had three daughters. They became my family or the closest thing I had to one. The three of them were like my sisters — they are my sisters.”

“Older or younger ?”

“All older.”

“Are you close with them ?”

“Uh, no, not really. Just with the youngest one out of the three. The two oldest ones were closer to each other and the third one and I were closer.” I confess and some part of me wishes I had tried more to get along with Nesta and Elain. To get closer. Since I might not have the chance to later. “What about you and your brothers ? Are you close with them ?”

Eris lets out a bitter laugh, “Gods, no. When we were younger I tried to protect them from our father, before he could turn them into cruel, sick bastards—“

“Like him ?”

“Like him,” he nods. “Then when we got older, I had to keep them in check,” another bitter laugh, “while playing the cold, cruel and calculating heir of autumn.” He stops. Then moves to stand in front of me and struggles to meet my eyes. “You’re going to hear things about me, if you haven’t already and—“

“I’ve done things too,” I tell him. “And I’m going to do more.”

I’ve already made my peace with doing whatever I have to do to kill Amarantha and those who get in my way. For my mother, for the summer court faerie, for Lucien and anyone else she’s hurt. And for me.

“What are you talking about. . . what have you done ?” His large hands cup my face, tilting my head up, making me look at him. “Talk to me. . . please,” he says. Softly. Gently.

“We become monsters, to survive monsters.” I say deathly soft and Eris’s brows furrow as he searches my face for more answers, but it’s too late. I’ve already put on the cold mask I’ve worn for years.

“What happened ? What have you d— What are you going to do ?”

I shook my head, “I won’t ask you what you’ve done or what you’ll do and neither should you.” I hardly recognize my own voice. Except for the coldness of it. The sharpness of it.

Eris let go of my face and took one, two, three steps back. Away from me. Then he runs his right hand through his hair before covering his mouth with the back of it. He lets out a shaky breath, “Do you not trust me — did I do something ?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, I look at him. Really look at him and realize that his hands are shaking, his heart is racing and his breathing is uneven.

He’s nervous. Scared.

Scared of what I’ll say and the fact that I haven’t said anything is only making it worse. I blink once and I can see myself through his eyes. My head is cocked in a way that is more animalistic than anything. Like a predator sizing up its prey. I blinked again and I was looking at him through my own eyes again.

I shook my head, “No, Eris, you haven’t done anything.” I tell him, hoping to soothe his nerves.

He let out a sharp breath. His hands have stopped shaking and his heart isn’t racing anymore. “So you don’t trust me.” He’s says it more to himself than to me.

“I never said that.”

“Then what is it ?” He says feigning nonchalance, but I can still hear the doubt lacing in his words.

“There’s no point in me telling you, when you’ll see it,” I admit.

He prowled closer to me until we were chest to chest, needing to crane my neck back to look him in the eyes because of our height difference. I forgot how tall he was — how powerfully built he was.

A muscle in his jaw feathered before he spoke, “If you’re not going to tell me what you’re talking about, then tell me something real.” Not a request, a command.

“I’m scared,” I whisper. His brows furrowed and his eyes widened, that wasn’t at all what he had expected me to say. “I’m scared of how you’ll feel when you find out about the real me. . . When you see the real me. Who I am.”

It’s no secret that none of the seven courts are really friends, but my mother used to tell me about how feared she and her brother were. Her twin. He is the most powerful High Lord in history and she is — was — the most powerful female in history. And how feared their inner circle was.

My mother was second in command to her brother. His third in command is more powerful than them but her power is different. Otherworldly. Their cousin is his fourth and she has the power of truth. The general of his armies and his spymaster are the most powerful Illyrian’s in history. Each needing seven siphons to hold the raw killing power they possess. And his spymasters is a shadowsinger.

I inherited my mother and her brother’s magic and then some from my father, but I had also been born with fire. I used to ask her why I had fire and she didn’t, if she was from Night and my father wasn’t from Autumn or the Day Court. And she would simply kiss the palms of my hands and say, “Is the sun not a star ?”

She always told me I was blessed by the Mother and the Cauldron for having so much power. But, as I got older I realized it was because I’d been born with a target on my back. Which was why she trained me the way she did.

I let out a few sharp breaths, trying to will away the tears pooling in my eyes, to no avail. “When you find out what I did and. . . what I’m going to do. What I can do. What I will do.” My throat working as I spoke my last fear, eyes squeezing shut, “I’m scared that you’ll die because of me. Just for being my mate. . . and I won’t be able to do anything about. ”

My eyes are still squeezed shut as I felt Eris gently, so gently, tuck my hair behind my now rounded ears. His fingers tracing the rounded curve of them so softly. And it’s all I can do to not flinch beneath his touch.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until he whispered, “The real you. . . the real you, that has pointed ears.”

Not exactly a question, but I nodded my head anyways.

“Can you show me ?” His voice was gentle like his touch had been moments ago.

I shook my head, “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

“Can you tell me, why ?”

“It’s a blood spell.” My voice was barely audible, I only knew he heard me because of how close we were. “My mother made it so that only someone on her side of the family could undo it. I can’t do it.” I left out the part that there’s only one person alive in the entire world that could do and I don’t even know if he would do it. “I can show you my true form for a couple seconds, but the p—“ My voice trailed off as I remembered how much pain I’d felt when I showed myself to Raihn. How it intensified until it was all I knew. Until it nearly killed me.

“But, what ?”

Eris’s voice brought me back to the present and I shook my head, “But, the pain I’d feel, would be all consuming. Searing. So hot that it felt impossibly cold, until it killed me. . . I’ve only done it once before and was surprised I survived. I doubt I would survive it a second time.”

The only reason I survived then was because Raihn had channeled some of his power into me. And continued throughout the next couple days. Since the blood spell suppresses my powers. I can only feel that I still have my magic, but I can’t access it. Except for one, but it’s not much. It feels like a drop instead of a vast ocean like it used to.

“Why are you scared of how I’ll feel when I see you ? Did the blood spell affect your physical appearance ?” Eris asked.

I nodded my head, “I still look the same, but my coloring is different. This isn’t my true hair or eye color.”

“Do your sisters know ?”

“No,” I breathed, “and they’d probably hate me. For lying and being fae.”

“Look at me.”

I shook my head.

“Little flame, look at me.” His voice a plea and prayer.

So I did.

“Because you told me something real, I’ll tell you something real,” his throat bobbing, “You're capable of hurting me in ways I'm not sure you've even begun to fathom. I might be skilled enough to land a death blow, but you alone have the power to fucking destroy me. And I would let you because you are everything to me. Do you understand that ?” His voice raw with emotion.

“Yes,” I said softly.

I didn’t even realize I had started crying again until Eris was wiping them away. “I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done, you’re my mate. Mine.”

I had no more words for him — my eyes saying what I couldn’t put into words. A new sort of vulnerability as I laid myself bare for him. Eris. My mate. Mine. A challenge thrown down. Waiting to see how he would react.

Eris Pov:

How many others had run from this part of her, not being able to handle all that she is ? I hated them all merely for putting the question in her eyes.

I love her as she is. All that she is.

I wouldn’t run from her. No, I only met her stare as I let her see all of me too. Her throat bobbed before her lips curved up into a smirk. My eyes falling to her lips, tracking the movement and then back up to her eyes. Without even thinking my hands settled on her hips, her cheeks flushing from my touch, her pupils flaring.

I see you, I silently conveyed to her. And I like all of it.

Likewise, her smirk seemed to say.

Dragging my eyes from the smirk that made the floor a little uneven. I gripped her hips a little tighter with hands that were surprisingly shaky. Then my mouth was on hers. Claiming her.

I begrudgingly pulled away from her when my stomach growled, quietly cursing myself while she laughed at me. “Come on, let’s get the grapes and oranges.”

****

Eris winnowed us back to the cabin, his arms full of grapes and oranges along two plates piled with meat and sauce and bread, and a bottle of red sparkling wine — he said he would hold it all.

Eris was hesitant to take it, but Bayne — the owner of the vineyard and orange grove — insisted. I was the one that had knocked on his door. The last time I saw him I was eight years old, yet something like recognition flared in his eyes when he took me in. It took him a moment to respond when I asked if I could pick some grapes and oranges, but he said yes and went back into his home. So Eris and I went about picking them when he came out with two plates in hand. Startling when he saw I was with Eris.

It didn’t help that, Eris immediately stood between us. I walked around him, to hand Bayne a few gold coins — more than what was needed — but he had always been kind to me and my mother. He politely declined and insisted we take the plates. I inclined my head in thanks and took them, Eris’s voice cut between our silent interaction. “Why ?” he asked.

Bayne never took his eyes off me as he said sadly, “She reminds me of someone. . . of an old friend who passed a few years ago.” An old friend — my mother.

Eris didn’t say anything else as I handed him the two plates I was holding and placed the gold coins in his hand and thanked him again. Then Eris winnowed us back to the cabin. And we ate our plates in comfortable silence. I sat atop the kitchen counter and he remained standing, next to me.

He finished his plate before I did and kept true to his word. He silently went about rinsing the grapes and peeling oranges before plating them between us. And once I finished my plate, he took it and washed, before pushing the plate of fruit closer to me. I moaned at the taste of them and he laughed softly. “Good ?”

“So fucking good.” I said around a mouthful of orange, which earned me another mirthy laugh from him.

****

We had moved back to the bedroom, my head settled on his chest, his hand playing with my hair as the other rested on the small of my back.

I huffed as I looked out the window.

“What’s wrong, little flame,” he asked.

“It’s almost dawn,” I grumbled. Which meant it was almost time for him to go back Under the Mountain.

He kissed the top of my head, “We’ll see each other again. Soon.” He promised.

And he had no idea how true that was.

But, right now, I wanted him. No, needed him. I needed him. To feel him, incase I wouldn’t have the chance to again.

He didn’t stop me as I moved to straddle him. Not as I pulled at his tunic — a silent request for him to take it off, and he did. He didn’t say anything as I leaned down, kissing his lips, his neck, his chest. The only thing I heard was his heart pounding, when my fingers lightly skimmed where his skin and his pants met. I wasn’t sure he was breathing and just to see what he’d do, I palmed him through his pants.

Eris barked a curse.

I laughed quietly, kissing his chest again, and then swirled my tongue around his nipple, teasingly, letting him know what was to come.

And when I laid my palm flat on him again, “You’re mine,” I breathed.

Eris’s breathing started again, jagged and savage. Feral. I flicked open the top button of his pants. “I’m yours,” he ground out.

Another button popped free. Then the third, but then I felt him before I heard him.

Raihn.

“It’s nearly dawn,” his deep gruff voice sounded in my head. He was pissed and now so was I.

I growled and Eris just stared at me confused. I shook my head him and before I could tell Raihn to go back to the Manor, his growl shook the entire cabin and seconds later he had broke down the door and was in the bedroom. Snarling and baring his teeth.

It was all Eris could do to put me between him and the wall. His body a solid wall between me and the white wolf. Raihn’s eyes fell to the dagger Eris was clutching, his knuckles white from the grip. Then the wolf’s eyes tracked the hand Eris had placed on me protectively. Raihn cocked his head, his snout twitching once, twice, scenting us. Scenting Eris and he growled, baring his teeth in a snarl.

Eris readied himself for the massive wolf’s attack, but before he could do anything I snarled at Raihn, “I’m gonna kill you !” Raihn only growled in response.

Trying to make my way to him, but Eris was holding me back, Raihn noticed and took a step forward. He snapped at Eris in warning and Eris to his credit didn’t falter, he only readjusted his grip on his dagger. I rolled my eyes, pushing past Eris, standing right in front of Raihn, “I’m gonna kill you.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, “I told you to stay in my room, you know it’s not safe out here for you. They’re hunting you !”

He let out an annoyed huff.

“And you can’t just barge in like that, where are your manners ?” I scolded him like a mother would a child — my hands now on my hips — and he whined. I turned back at Eris, shaking my head at Raihn, and he was just gaping at me.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 10 part 11

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @cat-or-kitten @yeeyeebabe @khaleesihavilliard @impossibelle @sleepylunarwolf @cutie232 @meepmeep-318 @belledawnidk @fandomrejects @wasntpriscilla @brandywineeeee @consultinghuntresshasthetardis @thescooby-gang @annblvd @poetryinshadows @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @esposadomd @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @glaciuswduo @laceandsuch @hnyclover @spookyboogyuniverse @kennedy-brooke @minaethrym @lili-flower03

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #bound in flames

[jasonsmirrorball]

would like to think that you would stick around [917]

established relationship, batfam cameo, family gathering, slight bruce + jason angst

you're curled up in the armchair by the fire, listening quietly to the conversation between barbara and dick. he has no doubt, from the shit-eating grins they both share, that they have begun to divulge the plethora of stories they have. your smile is sleepy and a little drunken, though he doesn't think you've had anything at all.

jason stands a few paces away, attention divided between you and the chess game between duke and bruce, the former determined to best his mentor. from the glint in duke's eye, he can tell a reprisal of the monopoly affair is in the works, and he moves away before he's hit in the head by one of bruce's marble pieces.

tim and steph lounge near you, legs thrown over each other. every few moments one of them will shift and grouse about the other's weight. this will spark another bout of bickering, followed by grumbles – though they won't ever actually move from the couch. one of them will show the other something on their phone, and the duo will dissolve into quiet giggles. and the cycle continues.

damian, having wandered in after retreating to his room, stands behind your armchair. he watches the kid listen intently to barbara recount the days when it had only been the three of them and bruce. there's a pang in his chest that he tries to tamp down. those days are long gone, and best not thought about. things have been...nice, tonight. he doesn't want to colour it grey with the grief of ghosts that should have remained buried.

he takes a seat at the foot of your chair, leaning back into the upholstery and letting your hand settle into his hair by way of hello. your fingers brush over the waves, and he's content to sit as your nails graze his scalp. he pays little attention to the conversation at hand, watching the flames in the grate as they burn. orange and yellow and read whip and coil in his eyes, spots of light bleeding into the edges of his vision when he looks away to catch the tail end of your sentence.

"...no way. our place is going to have two bathrooms."

"our place?" he asks, tipping his head back to meet your eyes. your face appears above him, lips pulling into a soft smile, as though embarrassed.

the both of you go between your respective apartments regularly nowadays. his things have made a home in your bedroom, and he can barely get in the bathroom without catching sight of one of your socks. jason wonders if you know he's been carrying around a copy of his key for a week now, trying to find the right time – trying to find the courage to ask you.

if he could, he'd tell you not to be embarrassed, but you're already continuing with a bashful shrug.

"grayson asked if you were going to live in the city forever," damian supplies helpfully, but he gets the distinct feeling the kid is judging his inattention.

"you've thought about what our place is going to look like?" he asks you, feeling his face grow hot as he hears his voice soften, a little shy and only a fraction of how lovesick he feels, heart racing in his chest. he catches the grin on dick's face and ignores it.

"a little," you admit.

dick opens his mouth, presumably to say something that will force jason to restrain himself from strangling him, but is cut off by a hail of marble clattering everywhere. a knight rolls by jason's feet, the black stone heavy in his hand as he picks it up. it glints in the firelight, and he looks to you, a pawn having fallen into your lap. you grin sheepishly.

the gathering continues on well into the late hours of the night, to no one's surprise. you begin to nod off a few minutes after the clock chimes one, and jason decides it's time to go. you sleepily bid everyone goodbye, kissing damian's head affectionately when he mumbles out a farewell and to jason's surprise, his snot nosed little brother only blushes a little, brown skin colouring when you ask him to send you a photo of the pets you hadn't got to meet.

jason's old room remains unlived in upstairs, and bruce mentions it but he looks to you, and thinks of the bed in the home he means to call yours and he declines.

"i'll call you tomorrow," he says instead, and if it surprises bruce, he doesn't let it show. the older man nods, and looks to where you're getting your coat.

"you seem happy."

he stares at the man for a moment, before tipping his head. it feels embarrassing, it feels like he's a kid again, telling him,

"i am."

"good." bruce offers little else, and the approval breaks his heart and stitches it up at the same time.

he leaves the manor with you in his passenger seat. your hands remain in your lap until he takes one of them, lips pressing to the back of your hand.

"what was that for?" you ask sleepily, and he shrugs. he's quiet for a moment, the lights on the road flickering over him as they pass.

"you think about our place," he says, and you let out a breath.

"i do. is that...okay?"

he looks over, heart on his sleeve.

"i want a stained glass window," he tells you, and you beam.

just. i had the thought of saying something in front of him that gives you away, that you're in it with him, that you're committed, and even though actions speak more than words and you've already been committed for a while, it's still giddy to know that you've spoken on it now.

#jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #jason todd x reader

[secondhand-snow]

a body of impulses

lukas matsson x f!roy!reader (succession)

★chapter 2★

wc: 7.5k+

warnings: toxic family dynamics, drinking, very mild violence, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (if you squint), oral sex (f! recieving), fingering (f!recieving), handjobs, cum eating, spit, clothed sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), biting, so much making out, praise, size difference, no use of y/n

summary: The youngest Roy meets Lukas Matsson at her brother's birthday party. Limerence strikes like lightening. Self-control snaps. Attachment blooms.

author's note: I'm considering making this a short series? Let me know what you think! please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

It made you feel strangely childish, running through the darkened rooms of the event space, carefully stepping with bent knees to reduce your risk of falling from the extra few inches your heels provided you. Looking over your shoulder at the dwindling silhouettes of your siblings, you checked to be sure they didn’t think your disappearance was too suspicious. Of course, they were too transfixed with themselves. They were staring at the large, falsified, magazine covers of themselves hung on the walls of the open space. 

Connor was still making a fuss, comforted by Willa.  You noticed a few attendants coming over to begin the process of removing his personalized poster from public view. Meanwhile, Shiv and Roman had their heads together, no doubt constructing some plan to turn Kendall’s birthday into a business opportunity. You rolled your eyes lightly, turning back around to peer through the small crowd at your older brother’s bomber jacket.

“Ken… Hey Kendall! Wait up!” You called out to him, your voice only a little louder than your normal speaking tone to carry over the techno music. He heard you, apparently, turning to lock eyes with you. You trotted up to him, grateful that the room you were in was mostly empty of partygoers. The walls were big screens flashing with fire, the orange light lighting up Kendall's face as he looked at you. Flames flickered in the pupils of his eyes and you almost laughed at the ironic symbolism of the moment.

“So, I know Rome gave you something earlier, I don’t know what, but uh,  I got you a card too.” You opened your small clutch and pulled out a white envelope, Kendall’s name written on it in your neat cursive handwriting. 

“You did?” His eyebrows raised, accentuating the few rows of wrinkles in his forehead. Taking the envelope from your hand, he turned it around in his fingers, almost like he couldn’t believe it was real. You bit your lower lip and nodded, hands moving to clasp behind your back.

“Yeah, I um… didn’t want to give it to you around them,” you nodded your head in the general direction of the rest of your siblings. “I know things have been, like, weird… lately. But, It’s your birthday and I love you and so I got you something.” Smiling on the last word, your tone raised the slightest bit. Kendall’s brows were still furrowed, but he nodded and ripped the envelope open to produce the card.

It was a cliche store bought birthday card, the front of it adorned in a goofy catchphrase and the picture of a dachshund. You saw his lips twitch the slightest bit as he read the front, a full smile forming as he opened the card. The stereotypical joke’s punchline was delivered and sandwiched inside the folded paper was an old photo of the two of you as children. He picked it up between his thumb and pointer finger, turning it over to find the date it was taken and both of your names written on the back. 

A small laugh escaped his mouth, his pointed grin blooming over his face as he turned the photo to face you. Pictured were the two of you, outside at the Hamptons house on a sunny day. You were young, maybe a few years old and Kendall was an older teenager. The younger version of yourself sat on his shoulders, your hands coming down to cradle his face while his hands held onto your ankles. Your tongue was sticking out at the photographer, he had noticed your face and was in the midst of an open-mouthed laugh when the photo was captured. 

It was a nod to your younger years, when Kendall filled more of a fatherly role than a brotherly one. You had written on the inside of the card, the message reading: “Happy birthday Ken. I love you always, no matter what,” with a heart and your signature ending the note. 

“What do you think?” 

“Are you kidding, I love it. God, I- I haven’t seen that picture in years.” He tucked the photo back away and held the card in one hand while he embraced you. 

“Right?! I found it the other day when I was looking through some old diaries. That was such a good summer.” You beamed at him as you spoke. He hadn’t been this happy around you in weeks, maybe even months. 

“It was. At least, by our standards.” Kendall chuckled a bit with the memory. “This is- it’s just great. Thank you.” You pulled him into another hug, he tucked his nose into your hair and planted a soft kiss on your head.

“I’m glad you like it. I really love you Ken, don’t forget that.” You looked into his eyes as you said it, a sad smile on your face at the intensity behind your words. He just nodded, squeezing you tight one last time before releasing your frame.

“Here, come on. I’m gonna show you something.” He took your hand then, leading you through the throng of people enjoying his birthday party, nobody sparing him a second glance as he walked by.

That was how you ended up with a rainbow bracelet around your wrist and a too-strong drink in your hand, standing behind the rope blocking off Kendall’s private treehouse from the rest of the party. Your clutch fell around your wrist loosely, your fingers prodding at the straw in your cocktail as your siblings bickered in front of you. 

“You’re getting worked up about a treehouse? Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Kendall shut the rope divider in front of Roman, turning his attention to a newcomer entering the space. “Hey, come in. Wristband him.” He nodded to the security guards.

“Yeah, wristband this guy. Uh, what’s his name?” 

“No idea.” 

“Good, so good. So random, unknown man and our baby sister can come in, but not us?” Roman talked with his arms, navy blue suit jacket riding up to show the skin of his wrists.     Shiv crossed hers as he spoke, rippling the green fabric at the front of her chest, eyes staring daggers into you.

“Yeah so the thing is, and- I already said this, she’s cool. You’re not.” Kendall gestured to you and you gave a weak smile to your excluded siblings.

“Fucking bullshit.” Roman ran a hand through his hair.

“See these two? Don’t let these two in okay. She’s good, they’re not.” Kendall pointed to the three of you as he talked to the guard, a tall blonde man in a black tshirt. “This is my treehouse. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here.” 

Shiv and Rome were in disbelief, still trying to reason with your eldest brother as he turned away from them and towards you. He put an arm on your back, guiding you to walk away from the scene and into the exclusive treehouse. You couldn’t help turning to look over your shoulder, glancing at your two neglected siblings with wide eyes. Roman had begun walking away, but Siobhan was still standing there, arms folded. As she caught your gaze, she rolled her eyes and shook her head in shock before finally moving to follow her brother deeper into the party, beginning to speak to him as she walked.

Kendall cursed under his breath as he led you into his treehouse. It was honestly eerie to see the structure again. You had too much of an age gap with Kendall to have played with him in it as a child, but on more than one occasion you had wandered up into it on your own, looking for a place to escape the aggressive family dynamic that arose wherever your siblings were in close proximity. There was even a time when you were a young teenager you had accidently busted Kendall for smoking weed in the treehouse during a family get together. He ended up paying you handsomely to keep quiet, which you did, never uttering a word about it to this day. You were nothing if not loyal.

The inside of this reconstructed treehouse was much different than the structure of your childhood. For one, it was massive. The treehouse you remembered could barely fit all four of you kids in it, definitely not the few dozen that stood milling about in the new space. The interior was dark. Black walls, wooden dividers and glass windows made up most of the area, with some modern light fixtures and lanterns set around to provide a warm glow. The outermost walls were made to look like the outdoors, a forest of sorts with shadows and cool tones to outline the trees. A wooden fence sat in front of the forest walls, making the entire space feel strangely like an outdoor balcony or patio. The music was lighter in this area, though still a techno party beat playing just loud enough that conversations were had in louder tones than normal. There were more earthy toned chairs, couches and tall tables filling the space than other areas in the event, and more partygoers milling about and chatting rather than dancing. 

“Oh here, come on.” Kendal had been talking, mostly to himself for a few seconds, just rambling about your shitty siblings. You tuned back into his words as he spoke in your ear and turned you in a specific direction with the hand on your lower back. Your eyes searched around the room, not recognizing what was drawing Kendall until he spoke again.

“There he is, Lukas Mattson. The Odin’ of codin’.” Finally you noticed the blonde man sitting just a few feet in front of you. His tall frame was dwarfed by the way he sat on the bench, lanky with one leg hitched up and a beer in his hand, but as he sat up you immediately recognized his face. “My man, my myth, my fucking monolith. What’s up bro? You havin’ a good time?”

“Do I look like I’m having a good time?” Lukas’s gaze darted from Kendall to yourself, your eye contact lingering for just a second long enough to provoke you to turn your stare to the ground in reservation.

“No, you do not.”

“I am not.” 

“Still haven’t figured out the socials, huh? Dude, you should get your algo guy to fix your code.” Your eyes lifted at that, and you smiled at the tone of your brother’s voice. Your hands came to raise the glass you had held at your side to your mouth. You drank through the thin black straw, the artificially colored liquid stinging your throat a bit as you swallowed heavily. Mattson didn’t respond to that, cocking his head at Kendall’s comment, pointedly looking at you, and shifting back to stare at him again.

“Oh uh yeah, this is my sister,” Kendall introduced you with your name, and you gave a small smile to Lukas in greeting. “Listen, heads up, my siblings are looking for you now.”

“And you led one of them straight to me?” He didn’t acknowledge your greeting, but his gaze continued to linger on you, a new softness behind his eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s cool. She won’t try to get to sell your soul like the other two. Shiv and Roman, they’re like emissaries from the Grand Duke of Old. Dad wants to buy you, so he sent his winged dildos to schmooze.” 

“I shouldn’t say anything, even the look on my face is commercially sensitive.”

“But it makes, like, no sense, correct? Amtrak buys Tesla? If anything, you should buy him.” Your eyebrows furrowed the smallest bit at Kendall’s suggestion, turned your head to look up at him. He was too engrossed in his conversation to notice your confusion, but the way Mattson cocked an eyebrow showed that he did.

“You think?” You turned your attention back to Lukas, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, I really appreciate your impartial read.” He leaned his head towards Kendall, speaking lowly, like his words were a secret.

“ Kendall? Uh, Rava wants to say hi.” Comfrey had appeared behind you, moving quickly and quietly in a way you’d come to appreciate. You didn’t even notice her presence until she spoke, fidgeting with the phone in her hand.

“Sure, uh not right now. When I’m ready.” Kendall dismissed her and Comfrey slinked back into the shadows of the party, waiting for him to finish his conversation. “Listen, you should stay up here, okay? So you don’t get networked to fuck. Uh, here,” He spoke your name, addressing you for the first time since he’d begun talking to Lukas, “Keep the cronies away from him. And the sibs.”

“Um… okay.” It felt like more of a command than a request, but you agreed despite your annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy, man.” With a wave, Kendall left, following Comfrey into a new area of the night’s festivities.

You stood for a moment, awkward and self conscious, twirling your drink’s straw between your thumb and index finger. Biting your lower lip, you made eye contact with Mattson, realizing he had been staring at you this whole time.

“Hi, sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.” You finally spoke, offering a small smile to the man in front of you. 

“No, we haven’t. I know you though. The youngest Roy? The virtuous daughter?” He motioned as he joked with you, the beer in his hand sloshing around in its brown glass bottle.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed, moving to sit by him on the wooden bench he occupied. “You can’t believe everything you see in the media, I thought you would know that better than anyone.” 

“Maybe. Your lack of involvement with your family’s scandals speaks for itself, though. You’re a saint compared to your father and brothers.” His Swedish accent peeked through his words, making his sentences flow together like music.

“Well, I’ve had less time to fuck things up. I joined the company much later than them, I only finished college a few years ago.” Shrugging while you spoke, you tried your best to dismiss his implications. Your momentary status as a neutral bridge between your feuding family was something you couldn’t bear to lose.

Mattson hummed before answering, nodding his head slowly as he looked you up and down. “And you aren’t going to use this time to try and convince me to sell?” 

You shook your head, a shy smile coming to your face. “Honestly? I don’t really want to. I think you’ve already decided what you want to do, and no amount of my bargaining will change that.”

“You’re smart.”

“I try.”

Lukas grinned at you, “Do you always do what your brother tells you to?”

“No, I just want to make him happy.” You shook your head slightly, feeling a little embarrassed at your obvious obedience to your family. It’s not like you don’t think for yourself, it’s just that sometimes complying is easier than the alternative. “You’re not enjoying the party?”

“No. Are you?”

“Not really. Crowds aren’t my favorite thing. And these drinks are way too strong.” You set down your drink on the floor near the bench, the liquor was beginning to give you a headache.

“But you came to support Kendall?” You nodded. He raised his eyebrows. “And you still say you aren’t obedient to him?”

“I…” You bit your lip lightly, not sure of how much information you should really reveal to this man. He was an adversary, but something about Lukas made you want to be honest with him. Maybe it was his eyes, or his casual posture, but you felt like leaning into his warmth, however strange it may be. “Well, you did call me virtuous. Maybe I just need to rebel a little, give into impulses for once.”

It was a joke, you both knew it, but the smirk on Mattson’s face felt a bit serious. “That’s an idea.” 

You smiled at him, a little blush coming to your cheeks at the suggestion in his sentence. He had moved a bit closer to you through your conversation, and now his knee brushed gently against your. His hand comes down to innocently brush out a wrinkle in the skirt of your dress, resting gently on your thigh for a moment too long before moving away.

“Hey! There you are, fucking hiding from me. Like a human VPN.” The sound of Roman’s voice snapped the two of you from the silence of the shared moment. You quickly adjusted your posture so your leg was crossed away from Lukas, adding a bit of distance between your bodies. “I see someone already found you. How are you doing?”

“I’m all right, just enjoying the company. It’s just, uh, you can fill in the blanks.” You subtly glared at your brother as Mattson spoke, immediately aware of his attempt to cut you from the conversation.

“How’d you get up here Rome? I thought Kendall had you banned from the premises.” Roman perched on a chair across from the pair of you, rolling up his sleeves as he sat.

“I paid a girl to give the security a blowjob, what do you think?” Sarcasm was thick in his voice as he spoke to you. “Hey Mattson, uh, question. My old man- our old man,” He made a motion between you and himself, “got a bit grumpy this morning, but you weren’t trying to humiliate him, right? I mean, fucking everyone says, last big legacy content library, last big fucking super app streaming platform. We obviously fit right?” 

“People say we fit.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Roman runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick you’ve come to know. You can tell he's worried at the frankness of Lukas’s responses.

 “Stargo is really, really shitty, though. Your genius would really help us out, if you end up selling to Waystar” You raised your eyebrows as you addressed Lukas. The anxiety radiating off of Roman made you want to pitch in, help him, although you still thought your haggling wouldn’t affect Mattson’s final decision.

 “I do have one question before we start these.. negotiations. Like, I don’t wanna be rude but.. What kind of shape is your father in? How long will he be around, we’re talking one year… five years..?”  Roman is shocked quiet at Mattson’s forwardness, his hands running down the sides of his face as he tried to formulate a response that won’t fuck the deal he’s working to build.

“Well, you mean, you just don’t want him hanging over you, right? Looking over your shoulder all the time, especially while you work” You ask in his stead. Lukas nods. “Well what if you don’t have to talk to him? Like, ever?” Looking over to Roman, you try to throw him a lead to jump back into the conversation.

“Yeah, you work out of, uh, Austin, London, Stockholm, Geneva, whatever. It’s just totally separate companies and we burn Stargo.” Rome catches up, making a contribution to your schmoozing. “And on the occasion that you need to send up a fսcking smoke signal from Geneva, then that goes through me.”

“We can do that together.”

“So, I know GoJo is your baby, and we don’t want to interfere with that at all. So, bearing that in mind, would you consider meeting with my dad?” Roman clasps his palms together and points them towards Lukas.

“Yeah, well, if all this is true, then... yeah.”

“How's Monday?” 

“Monday is great.”

“And if I were to shake your hand right now, could I go tell my dad that I basically just bought GoJo for him?” 

“No.” Lukas chuckles, pauses to take a sip from his beer. “But you can tell him I'm in the conversation.”

“I’ll fucking take it.” Roman smiles and takes a deep breath before standing from his seat. “I will see you then, I have a call to make” He pulls his phone out as he walks away, already starting to dial in the numbers.

You take a moment to be silent, watching his frame fade into the crowd until you turn to Lukas. He’s looking at you too, head tilted and grin plastered across his face.

“I thought Kendall told you not to let him speak to me.”

“I thought I told you, I’m trying to be more rebellious.” You smile back at him, switching the way you cross your legs to let your bare knee touch the fabric of his pants. 

You stay that way, speaking to Mattson and letting him subtly touch your arm, back, leg, for the better part of an hour. It hadn’t been your plan to stay so long, just make a quick appearance for Kendall’s sake and head home before midnight, but you found yourself not wanting to end your dialog with Lukas, causing you to push back your exit further and further. He grabs you a new drink from one of the servers walking through the party, a cocktail that luckily tastes much better than your previous refreshment. Well, maybe not so luckily, since you end up drinking enough to get yourself buzzed and bolder than normal. 

You’re self aware enough to draw back when you notice your siblings entering the room again, Roman giving a small wave before heading to a different seating area. You don’t pay him much mind until Shiv enters the area as well, hair frizzy and makeup smudged. She seems pissed, he seems drunk, it all looks like a recipe for failure. Roman perches on a chair, glass of wine in his hand, Shiv turns to leave but gets drawn by some comment he makes.

“I’m sorry- maybe I should…” You look back at Mattson, your conversation had lulled for a few seconds as your attention had turned to your siblings.

“Have to go babysit?” He smiles at you, a bit condescending, but not enough to make you upset. You don’t respond for a second, biting your lip and looking between your current company and the scene between your family. 

“I just…” The words come at as a sigh, your head lulling back in exhaustion as you notice Kendall and Naomi breaking through the crowd to engage in Shiv and Roman’s antics. “Things always get out of hand when I’m not there to mediate. But I’m so fucking tired of having to be the good one all the time” 

“You don’t have to be, just take a step back, watch shit unfold. Rebel, remember?” Mattson’s blue eyes are dark in the lighting and his eyebrows are raised, daring you. You smile, nod, take a sip of your drink. “It’s actually good entertainment when you aren’t involved.” 

Deciding to take a break from your role as peacemaker, you turn to face your siblings in your seat, the same direction Lukas is sitting. You feel his bent knee brush against your back and lean into a bit, something not visible from your sibling’s position. You allow yourself to stay that way until you notice Roman moving to get up. That sparks you to rise, set your drink down, murmur an apology to Lukas, and quickly run over to the circle of your siblings.

“You know you want to, just fucking hit me, do it. ‘I’m not a real person’ fuck you.” Rome’s words are charged, he’s too close to Kendall for your comfort and you see his next action coming a mile away, without any way to stop it. “All right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Happy birthday fuckface.” 

Two hands hand on Kendall’s back as he turns to walk away, a push from them sending him falling onto his face in the middle of the party. You know Roman didn’t mean to push him so hard, he wasn’t thinking clearly, but the result was the same regardless of his intent.

“What the fuck Rome? Why would you do that?” You move to help Kendall up with Naomi, turning your head to yell at your other brother, who was laughing at his actions.

“Everybody just take it easy, okay?” You didn’t even notice Connor’s presence until he spoke.

“Oh shit, are you okay? Happy birthday.” Roman laughed through his words. Kendall pushed you away from him in embarrassment when he stood, Naomi giving you a look telling you that she had it covered.

“Take your coat off. Take your fucking coat off.” He didn’t look back at Roman, didn’t address his comments, just spat anger at Connor as he was ushered away. Just a few hours ago he was fine, you didn’t know what could’ve caused him to crash so hard since you’d last seen him.

“Like a fucking eight year old. You're an asshole.” Shiv speaks briefly before marching away, Roman still giggling at his own antics.

“It’s funny. It’s funny! You’re gonna laugh at it later.”

You moved to face your brother, pushing his shoulder back against the chair he had moved to sit in. “Clean your fucking act up. You do one thing right and think you can get away with anything. I love you, but don’t be so fucking stupid, Roman.” Your words seem to break through, he stops laughing for a minute to shoot you a dirty look. Not waiting to see his response, you turn and quickly walk towards the nearest exit of the area, pulling your phone out of your clutch to message your driver.

“Leaving?” Lukas’s voice next to you startles you, and you shoot him a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I need to get out of here. I just can’t be near them right now.” He walks with you, humming in understanding as you speak.

“Why don’t you leave with me? Get your mind off them.” You stop walking then, now only a few yards from the exit of the venue. Crossing your arms, you lightly rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

“If someone found out…”

“Think for yourself. Be impulsive for once.”

His words give you pause. Normally you would deny him, deny the aching between your thighs that his presence gave you. You’d head home and masturbate until you passed out, report to your Dad in the morning, never speak to the man again. But you were so, so tired of being good.

“Okay. Let’s do it. My driver’s here, we can pull around and pick you up in a few minutes.” Thinking quickly, you come up with a simple plan to stop the public from seeing you leave together. He nods, smiles, and reaches for your phone. You let him take it, let him put his number in and hand it back to you, fingers lingering on yours.

“Text me when you’re here.”

The ride to Lukas’s hotel room is intense. You have enough discretion to raise the divider between the front and back seats of the car, blocking the view of yourself from your driver. But once that black panel separated you, Mattson was merciless. He wasted no time in pulling you into his lap, kissing you roughly and palming your chest with his large hands. You barely came up for breath the entire ride to his hotel, and when you did your neck was immediately attacked. He marked your skin with hickeys and bites, leaving you gasping for air. Trying your best to quiet your moans and whimpers, you covered your mouth with your hand whenever you could, but you doubted your driver couldn’t hear the noises Lukas pulled from you. You tipped them an extra thousand dollars just in case.

He gave you a break while you hurried through the hotel, standing close to you but not touching you, even in the elevator. It gave you plausible deniability. Though if your reflection was any judge, the already darkening marks on your neck spoke for themselves. Mattson is so stoic in public it has you questioning if he even wants this. If he wants you the way that he did in the car. But, as he holds the door open for you to enter his hotel suite, your question is answered.

The hotel suite is modern, with several separate rooms adorned in black, white, and gray decorations. The farthest wall of the living room, the space you’ve walked into, consists of glass windows which offer a gorgeous view of the city’s nighttime lights. You take a moment to look around, throwing your clutch over to an entryway table and walking towards the windows. Your reflection is just barely visible in the glass, your silhouette a sliver of light against the darkness of the New York skyline. Your head tilts to the side a bit, and you reach a hand forward to press against the glass. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your bloodstream, or the lust making your heart beat faster than normal, but you don’t even notice Lukas approach until his reflection joins yours in the window. You look up and slightly behind you, catching his eyes with yours. His pupils are wide and dark, his lids heavy and narrowed with intent. 

He places a hand on your chin, tilting you up as he bends down to reach your lips. It starts soft, lips barely parted and eyes closed. Your body follows the tilt of your head, moving to face him and place your hands around his neck. His hands travel to your butt, using his leverage to press you against him. His tongue slips inside your mouth, his movements speed up. Hands begin to grope at your ass, squeezing and pawing you through your gown. It’s rough, but there’s no anger or malice behind his moments, only eagerness.

A hand moves up to the small of your back, lightly rubbing the fabric on your skin in an almost soothing motion. When you finally break the kiss for air, Lukas moves, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to place sloppy kisses there. You’re breathless, but craving his mouth so badly you direct his head back up to yours with a hand in his hair. He groans into your mouth when you press your chest against his, your boobs straining against your dress. The kisses become dirty and wet. He bites at your lower dip and pulls it a bit. You trace the roof of his mouth with your tongue. Your thighs are squeezing together now, softly grinding into each other to provide some kind of sensation to your throbbing clit. 

You finally say something when his hands move to pull up the skirt of your dress, breaking the kiss with an inhale for breath before quickly speaking.

“Wait, wait.” He does. Pauses his movements but keeps his fingers in the fabric of the dress. “I’m -I uh, haven’t had sex before. And I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I’m not dating. Or like, in a relationship with.” 

“Okay. Can I still make you cum?”

“Oh, um, sure. Yes.” He’s unfazed by your words, gives you a little smile and another messy kiss before dipping to kneel in front of you. He presses soft kisses to your lower stomach, just barely lifting your dress to expose the very bottom of your panties. When he moves to kiss the front of your mound though, you freeze.

“What are you doing?”

“I was planning on eating your pussy. Is that okay?”

“You want to do that?”

“I would like to, yes.”

“Uh, yeah, okay. I just haven't done this before.” He looks up at you with his piercing blue eyes, waiting until you give him a firm answer. “Can you maybe just tell me what you’re doing? Like, before you do it?”

“I can do that.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You smile down at him, blushing a bit in embarrassment from your lack of knowledge. He returns a small grin, before moving to kiss the front of your pubic bone again. This time, you let him.

He muzzles his nose into the fabric there briefly, before moving his fingers to rub against your panties. They’re soaked, drenched from your time in the car and the heavy making out you had just finished. He chuckles lowly to himself as he feels this, his touch featherlight.

“You’re so wet. Are you that turned on already?” You bite your lower lip and nod, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker.

“I’m going to touch you underneath your panties, is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He nods at you then, using his thumb to hook your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold night air. Two long fingers move on either side of your slit, giving pressure just outside of where you need it so badly. You whimper at his motions, muffling the sound by pressing your lips together. His index finger moves then, gently grazing over your clit as it travels the length of your vulva, collecting wetness as it does. A few gentle circles around your entrance before returning to your clit, finally pressing there and beginning to trace patterns into the bundle of nerves.

It feels divine. You’d gotten good at pleasing yourself with your twenty plus years of abstinence, but it felt so delicious to have someone else touch the most sensitive parts of your body. Especially someone who knew what they were doing. And from the way Lukas was moving, he knew exactly what he was doing. His index finger drew circles with your clit, joined shortly after by his middle finger to fully pressure the bud. Your head tips back then, brushing the window behind you as a moan escapes your mouth. 

“Don’t fight your noises, I want to hear how good you feel.” The only response you have to his command is to let another whine pass your lips, an action which you hear him groan at. Your fingers move down to grab at your dress, pulling it higher up to expose your bottom half fully, balling your hands into fists in the fabric.

“Fuck, I’m taking these off.” The pressure on your clit stops for a moment, and you lean your head down to look at him. His fingers loop in the sides of your panties to pull them down your thighs. As they reach your calves, you move a hand to his shoulder and stabilize yourself so you can raise your feet out of the garment. You step your last foot out of your panties, and instead of discarding them to the floor, Lukas balls the fabric up, stuffing it in his back pants pocket. He just smiles up at your confused expression, not bothering to explain.

“I’m going to taste you now, okay?”

You nod, and Lukas moves close to you, so close you end up with your back pressed against the window. He lightly holds one of your legs, moving it up and over his shoulder, allowing him better access to your now naked cunt. He leans forward, and with the flat of his tongue, licks a long stripe across your pussy. The feeling is new and exciting, hot and wet and just the right amount of strength. You move a hand to thread through his hair, your other one pressing against the glass behind you to hold you in place. 

His tongue fucks you like you’re his favorite taste, diving in and out of your already soaked folds. When he sucks your clit into his mouth, you choke back more of a scream than a moan. The leg on his shoulder begins to shake, and your brows knit together in ecstasy. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, you don’t ever want it to stop. Your climax begins building at a rapid pace, and you feel yourself grinding against Lukas’s tongue, chasing your pleasure with impulsive motions. He lets out a low moan against you, a buzzing hum that vibrates through your body. 

“Fuck Lukas, please don’t stop.” The words come out breathless, followed by a whimper and preceded by a groan. He hums against you again and doubles his efforts, moving his tongue to fuck into your enterance while two fingers come up to rub quickly against your clit. It’s only a few seconds before the tension building in your stomach finally snaps, and with a languid moan you fall apart under Lukas Matsson’s tongue. 

You aren’t even sure what noises escape your lips, too lost in bliss to focus on anything but absolute pleasure. He keeps eating you out until you’re over sensitive and almost pushing his face away, and even then he continues lightly stroking your folds with a few fingers. When you look down at him, his chin is covered in your juices and his pants are tented with an obvious erection.

“Oh my god.”

“That good?” 

“Kiss me again?”

He does, of course. Raises from his knees to grab your chin and pull you into his body, not bothering to wipe his mouth before capturing your lips with his. You can taste yourself on him, tangy and rich and intoxicating. The flavor only spurs you on, pressing your lips to his roughy. He’s hard against your stomach, a feeling that both arouses you and causes some anxiety. Lukas seems content to kiss you forever, tasting your lips like a man starved. When he pulls away to kiss down your neck, you take a moment to speak.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I… want you to feel good too.” 

“You want to get me off?” You nod in response.

“Will you show me what to do? What you like?” 

“Sure. Here, come with me.” He smiles at you, grabs your hand with his, and gently leads you over to the couch in the room. It’s a big, white sectional facing a massive TV. Lukas moves to sit back against it, gently pulling you to sit close to him, nearly sitting in his lap. His erection is even more obvious in this position, his length looking painfully hard against his thigh.

“Can I touch you?” You look up at him with wide eyes, your hand moving to his thigh while you wait for a response. He leans back and nods at you, a slightly cocky grin on his face. Gently, so gently, your hand moves to palm over his cock. He hums as you make contact, quietly encouraging your timid rubbing. 

Fingers explore the imprint of his length in his pants, finger tracing the outline of his cock cautiously. You looked up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his face twitched and changed with your increases in pressure. Pressing a bit harder, you touch him with long strokes, beginning a pattern with your movements. Lukas’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. Something in his stare feels animalistic, like a predator watching its prey. Maybe that should scare you, but if anything it stirs you on, makes you want to please him even more.

“Will you take these off?” Your hands move to his waistband, finger slipping underneath the fabric there, pulling it teasingly from his skin. 

“Of course.” He smirks, uses the back of the couch to prop his hips up, and slowly pulls his pants down his thighs. He doesn’t bother with leaving his briefs, pulling his underwear off with the same motion, leaving only exposed skin in his wake. 

His cock springs up, brushing against his shirt slightly, leaving a small wet spot from the precum on his tip. He’s long, not that you have much to compare it to, and thin, with a red-pink head already leaking. You take a moment to touch him again, slowly sliding your hand across the skin of his thigh until your fingers graze the short blonde hairs at the base of his shaft. Your hand wraps around him, fingers barely touching. His dick is double the length of your hand, standing tall with a slight curve upwards. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t intimidated. Slowly, eyes flickering from Lukas’s face to your hand and back again, you began to stroke him. Your hand gently raised from his base to tip, your thumb grazing over his slit. This elicits a soft gasp from Lukas, a sound that makes you give him a shy smile. The hand on his cock moves back down, your other moving to rest gently on his thigh as you slightly adjust to face him better. Your motions are stuttering and unpracticed, hindered by the dryness of both your skin. Lukas doesn’t seem to mind, his breath coming faster and his hips slightly moving to guide the travel of your hand. 

“I think…” You bite your lower lip in thought, your eyebrows coming together as your sentence trails off. Bending over Lukas’s lap slightly, you look up at him through your dark eyelashes, and let a string of spit fall from your tongue onto his cock. 

The effect on him is immediate, a deep curse falling from his lips as his dick twitches in your grip. His head falls back against the couch, his eyes shut softly. You don’t know if it’s the sensation of the spit on his sensitive tip, or the fact that you were doing something so dirty, but he seems to love your impulsive choice. Your hand gets into a better rhythm, moving much easier as you spread the wetness across the skin of his cock.

“Fuck, how did you know about that?” Lukas is breathless, but still chuckling through his words. 

“I didn't, it just seemed like you needed something wet…” 

He curses again, hums in agreement. You just blush in response, moving your attention back to his length in front of you. Your grip tightens, your motions speed up a bit. The sound of skin fills the room, joined by low hums and moans from Lukas’s throat. The heat between your thighs begins to return, a dull throb causing you to grind your thighs together.

“Does that feel good?” Your voice is quiet and laced with desire when you speak.

“Mhm.” A lazy grin is on Lukas’s face, his arms are spread wide across the back of the couch. “You’re doing so good.”

The compliment goes straight to your cunt, sparks traveling down your thighs at the praise. You move faster, leaning into him more as your hand speeds up, giving him a view of your cleavage. You don’t even notice the desperate whimper that escapes you, but he does.

“Just like that, fuck. Good. Good girl.” Lukas sits up more, a hand moving rest on your thigh as his body begins to tense up. His eyebrows pull together as you continue stroking. Your motions have gotten rough and fast, a physical exhibition of the desperation running through your veins. A string of curses heavily veiled in a Swedish accent leaves Lukas’s mouth, his hips buck roughly into your fist, and with a groan, Lukas Mattson comes in your hand.

Strings of white coats your skin, the fabric of your skirt, the bottom of Lukas’s shirt. He continues thrusting into your hand, chasing his release until he falls against the couch, panting and smiling and spent. Your eyes travel from his face to the ribbons of come on your hand. Instinctually, you bring it to your mouth, licking up the liquid before your thoughts get in the way. 

“You are insane.” Lukas’s voice brings you back to the world. He reaches over and guides you to move into his lap. You straddle him, his softening cock sandwiched between your torsos. He’s all smiles, face blissed out and eyes soft. He brings a hand to your chin, looking into your eyes before placing a surprisingly light kiss to your lips. 

Things are quiet for a moment, your head tucked into Lukas’s neck and his hands around the small of your back. It feels delicate, almost loving, almost corny. It partially scares you, being so intimate with someone you’ve just met, with someone so powerful. But the captivation outweighs the fear. He feels like the Earth; strong, devoted, all-consuming. You could try to leave but he would be everywhere, and you would come back to him.

You stay at Lukas’s that night, wrapped in white sheets with his arm thrown languidly across your waist. In the morning, he tells you that’s the best he’s slept in weeks. You let him see you with smeared makeup and messy hair, listen to him talk about Stockholm and pasta and the sun. He texts you to make sure you get home safe, then texts you a photo of him working on his laptop. You can’t help the smile that comes to your face when you talk to him, one so obvious you have to hide it in public. He calls you every night. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to a relationship, even if it’s something you need to hide from the world. He’s funny and weird and bold and drastic. You feel his hands on your skin in your dreams, like your body is a memory of his touch. He makes you happy, makes you perverted. Things move fast and slow at the same time. It’s confusing and clear all at once.

You’d choose it all over again if you could go back

© secondhand-snow 2024

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