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fangirl-dot-com · 16 days

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🧡❤️Dating Your Enemy's Sibling

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: How to get under your enemy/rival's skin? Charles answer was to start dating his younger sister. But now, he's glad he found love along the way. He only had to tell Max about the relationship when you won a race. That's won't be any time soon though . . . right?

*in honor of Lando's first win - here's this next installment of Reverse Tropes! I know that Max and Charles really aren't enemies. Maybe I should have done like a Pierre and Esteban thing, but I don't write for them. So here we go and please enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen.

Predestined rivals, written in the stars, invisible string, yada-yada-yada.

Putting it simply, Charles had an apt for pissing Max off and vice-versa. The world thought they would kill each other in karting, especially after the 2012 incident. The population sighed in relief when Max was taken from F3 and put in a Formula 1 car, while Charles took a bit longer.

And then Charles made it to Formula 1 in 2018. However, he was put in a HAAS, a car that was not really made to play with the other cars in the front of the pack. The earth was saved yet another year.

Well, until 2019 when Charles suddenly became the “It Boy” for the Prancing Horse. Meaning, that he could finally go back to terrorizing the grid and Max. But with terrorizing the grid came loads of trouble and hatred.

And more pissing off your rival.

Charles seethed on the podium as he listened to the Dutch national anthem and watched Max point to the stupid “H” on his race suit. He held in a scoff. At least the Ferrari logo was much better looking than that.

It wasn’t fair. He had the racing line and Max pushed him off. If his mind wandered, it would go back to a certain kart race back in 2012 where he pulled the same move. But that didn’t count because the race has already finished. Charles would have rather been disqualified instead of having to go through the torture of being up on the podium in second.

First loser as they call it.

The Monegasque driver held no happiness in his body as Max started spraying his winner’s champagne. Charles just picked up his bottle and drank it.

Still wasn’t as sweet as victory champagne would be.

He deliberately separated himself from Max as they stood for a picture. The visible gap made it much more hilarious for everyone around them.

When the festivities finished, he hightailed it out of there, just wanting to avoid the Dutchman presence. Charles sighed loudly as he walked back to the garage, definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone.

“Charlie!

The Monegasque stopped in his tracks, annoyance almost wracking his entire being. Can people just let him wallow in defeat? He straightened his shoulders and turned around, PR smile plastered on his face. However, the very fake smile turned into a real one when he noticed that you were almost jogging to catch up with him.

Y/n Verstappen.

You had always been a part of his childhood. Where Max was, you were one step behind him, following him in your small racing overalls. He remembered how little you always seemed compared to your brother. But size didn’t matter on the karting course.

Most of the time, the two boys found themselves trying to shake you off and others were behind your kart, picking up the dirt that you sent their way. And that’s why Charles put your name down as recommendations for his Prema seat after he won the championship in 2017. Because of him, you were able to graduate to Formula 2 and were on the track to make a debut in Formula 1 in the coming years.

“Hey Y/n,” Charles said softly, still not in the mood to really talk to anyone. But for you, he’d always make an exception. And he was supposed to fly back with you and Max, something he was still dreading.

You look at the Monegasque with sympathy. Charles wasn’t able to find any type of pity in your blue eyes (that matched Max’s).

Your brows furrowed as to talked to him. “What Max did wasn’t the right way to race. But Formula 1 is getting more and more competitive.”

The man, er boy, wanted to huff. He did not need this conversation from you. He almost turned around, but the next few sentences stopped him from making any motions.

“Charlie, you’ve always found ways to beat him. If he wants to play like this, then you just have to give him a taste of his medicine, get under his skin. Do what you always do and somehow get around him.”

He cocked his head, before his eyes lit up.

Get under his skin.

You watched as Charles’s eyes filled up with some light, making the green in them really shine. You could almost see ideas concocting in his head.

Charles went to say something, but was interrupted by his team principle. He swerved to respond before he turned back to you. There was a glint in his eyes that you really couldn’t put a finger on.

His took a deep breath before asking, “Do you want to maybe get dinner with me?”

Your eyes widened. Sure, the Monegasque was very attractive, but those were not the words that you were expecting to come out of his mouth.

Oh.

Now you got it.

Your facial expressions melted a bit, eyes pointed toward the ground as you kicked at it. Your arms crossed as you huffed.

“Using me for gain over my brother wasn’t what I was meaning Charles. I was thinking more like unfollow him on social media while we’re on the plane or something.”

The harsh “Ch” that began his name had him wincing. Like your brother, you had a small lisp which normally softened the two consonants to the point where his name sounded like it was supposed to be. And what was “Charles?” You rarely ever called him that, choosing to pick the more boyish nickname.

Although, your idea about Instagram wasn’t a bad one.

Charles looked a bit guilty as he scratched the back of his head. He honestly was endeared by you and your determination to never give up. He found you, well, cute. You were still 19, younger than him by a bit more than three years.

But if you were cute back in 2012 hanging on to Max’s wet overalls after the puddle, and you were cute now trying to console him instead of celebrating your brother’s victory, you would still be cute in the following years.

He sighed, knowing that he had to leave soon or he was going to get an earful from Sebastian for being late to yet another meeting. The Ferrari driver stepped forward a bit, getting closer to you. He looked down at his helmet before looking back to your eyes.

“When I win and when I beat your brother, then can I take you out to dinner?”

You mulled over the question in your head.

If he beat Max before you went out with him, then that meant that he was actually genuine and wasn’t using it to his gain. You also smirked, knowing that indeed it would piss Max off whenever he found out. Your position as an annoying younger sister would still be intact and possibly stronger.

You held out your hand, which Charles took in an instant.

“Deal Leclerc.”

“Deal Verstappen.”

When Charles took the top step in Spa, pride filled his chest when he noticed Max’s glare at him. He had beaten the Dutchman at his home race. Albeit, it was a DNF for Max, but a win either way. He swayed back and forth as his national anthem played and then sang quietly along with the Italian anthem. Deep in his heart, he knew the true weight of the win.

For Anthoine.

He knew somewhere he made his French friend proud. Just like Jules. And Just like Papa.

Charles watched down below as you looked like you could hardly keep a smirk off your face. And it was bad too as you stood next to Max, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there below Charles.

The Monegasque raised his eyebrows when you locked eyes. You just hoped that Max wouldn’t catch on that he was staring right at you. Thankfully, you were right next to a Ferrari manager, so Max could guess that Charles was looking at him.

When the winner finally got ready, you were waiting outside his garage.

“Hi,” you whispered, putting your phone away. Charles didn’t verbally respond, but he wrapped his arms around you. You melted in his arms, still smelling a bit of the champagne in his hair.

He looked down at you.

“Are you ready for dinner?”

Your eyes held a playful glint. “I hope you chose a good restaurant Leclerc.”

He scoffed, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you turned to leave. “Only the best Verstappen.”

The dinner went really well, but you weren’t expecting it to be a continual thing.

And then Charles won in Monza the next week, and he once again asked you to dinner. And once again, the Monegasque set expectations higher than you every imagined. You were saddened when Charles wasn’t able to win any more races while your brother seemed to get better and better each race.

You could only giggle while you watched them still avoid each other in Singapore.

But, the dinners turned into texting, and texting turned to other dates, and dates turned into dating, and dating turned into a relationship, and the relationship turned into an almost five year commitment that you or Charles weren’t planning to end soon.

The relationship saw your brother become a world champion in 2021, Charles becoming a world champion in 2022, and you joining the grid as a rookie for McLaren after a disastrous attempt for an Alpine seat.

Charles had been furious and Max had almost found out about the relationship. The two of you were still scared that Max might hold some coldness for the past. But when he called Charles “Charlie,” the special nickname that you had for him, you thought that it might be a good idea to tell him.

“But mon ange, he will run me off the track if he finds out,” Charles whined into your stomach as you played with his hair before the Miami Grand Prix.

You rolled your eyes and tugged at the strands. “No he won’t. You have to worry about your teammate doing that to you instead.”

Another whine left Charles making you giggle.

“At least you’re starting on the front row. I have to start P5! Oscar has been making fun of me all weekend.”

The Aussie had been such a God send for you during your rookie season. The elder by a few months had taken you under his wing. The two of you had been so close to a win last year, and with the upgrades this weekend, you were sure that you or him would start on the front row.

And then you had to be hit during the sprint, which didn’t help the mechanics in the hours before the race quali. That in turn made your car feel weird and P5 was the best you could do. Maybe Charles was secretly transferring his unluckiness into you.

The Monegasque turned his head to look you in the eyes. You smiled as you leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

“We’ll tell him when I win a race. How about that?”

Charles knew that you were just unlucky as he was when it came to winning a race. Last year, you had been close in Spa, but a rouge rainstorm saw you spinning out on the second to last lap. Austin you had pole, but Max fought you on into turn one, making you go wide. You never saw your brother after the first lap as you fell down the grid. Charles held you each night as you cried.

The red-clad-driver sat up and held your head in his hands. “You’ll win soon enough. Maybe not this weekend because I don’t have any time to prepare.”

You laughed and just brought him in to a kiss. There was literally no way you could win this weekend. Beating Max Verstappen with pole from P5 on a track that he had a 100% win rate at?

Impossible.

Charles thought he was going to cry as he crossed the line in P3. From you winning or having to tell your bother that he defiled his baby sister, he didn’t know.

What he did know was that he was going to get out of his car and congratulate you immediately. What were the odds that you won on the anniversary of the stupid inchident, the first time that Charles had ever seen you with Max.

(And yes, he did remember the anniversary but didn’t want to bring it up.)

You, however, were frozen in your car. You took some deep breaths as you took the steering wheel off, stood up a bit, bent to put it back on, and straightened, holding your pointer finger up. Your fists clenched as you raised them, automatically hearing the crowds roar when you waved.

A tug on your sleeve brought you down into Max’s arms. You were a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Charles, but that would be too obvious.

“YOU DID IT!” Max yelled in your ear, well, your helmet as you hadn’t taken the neon thing off yet.

You really didn’t want people to see the tear stains on your face. But right now, you’d just stay in the protection of your brother’s arms. When he let go of you, he lifted your visor, twin eyes meeting yours.

“You did such an amaz-”

“I’m dating Charles.”

Blink.

You took the moment of a frozen Max to turn to your team. You looked over your shoulder to see that the Dutchman was still stuck in his place as you got farther and farther away. You grimaced, knowing what was to come if Max and Charles met at any time when you weren’t there.

An arm around your shoulders brought you out of your head. The light blue caught your eyes, signaling that it was Charles. He patted your shoulders, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. You did feel a bit of pressure move your helmet, so he must have quickly smushed his face into the black swirls. A helmet kiss if you would guess.

You wanted to turn around to warn him of the imminent danger that was waiting for him in the form of Max Verstappen, but you were led away before you could.

Your fears immediately went away though when your eyes finally landed on your team. Helmet thrown to the ground, you made the decision to throw yourself at them as well. Your laughs could be heard as your mechanics lifted you higher as everyone seemed to want to congratulate you for their first win since Monza 2021, which you weren’t even on the team then.

When Charles stepped into the cooldown room, he could feel the awkwardness. It also didn’t help that Max was glaring at him from the corner. Charles was a bit worried. He thought that Max was fine with him now after they had both sort of mended their weird friendship during 2023.

He turned to you as you walked in, all sweaty.

Charles still thought you looked very pretty.

“Eyes off Leclerc.”

Charles froze in his place and looked between the siblings. He looked at you, then Max, then you, and then Max again. You winced, not looking him in the eyes. Realization flooded his body and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out.

“Mon Dieu.”

“We will be talking after this,” Max pointed, drinking from his water bottle, not taking his eyes off Charles.

When you were called to the little Jeeps, you quickly got into the bright pink Barbie-esque looking one, still buzzing from your win. Even if the two men behind you had put a damper on it.

Charles’s eyes only fixed on one of the cars, not even seeing the third one behind the second. He climbed right in, eyes closed as he sat down. However, his eyes shot open when the car tilted and a thigh was touching his. He gulped rather loudly, refusing to look to his right.

This was Vegas all over again.

Max kept his voice low. “When did it start?”

“2019. After Austria.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to get to know her more.”

“What was the reason Charles?”

The Monegasque sighed as he ran his hand over his face. “I was angry at you and wanted to get back at you somehow.”

He knew he was about to be punched on live television, but he continued hoping for redemption.

“But, I knew that was wrong. We didn’t even go out until Spa. And then again in Monza. And then it just happened.”

He turned to look directly at Max, knowing that he only had a few more moments before they had to go out onto the podium.

“Max I love your sister. I have the ring and everything. We’ve been happy for 5 years and have made it work. Please, she’s really all the good I have left. I would throw everything away for her. And-”

Max’s laughs stopped him from continuing. The Dutchman slapped a hand on Charles’s thigh, making him wince a bit.

The Red Bull driver’s eyes were crinkled with a smile as they pulled up to the parking spot.

“Just keep her happy, or I will run you off the track.”

“Y/n! I told you he’d threaten me!”

“Max!”

“Oh come on I did not!”

y/nverstappen4 has posted

y/nverstappen4 WE DID IT! P1 BABAYYYYYYY 🏆

nothing beats a podium with me on the top step surrounded by my boys 💙🧡❤️

liked by mclaren, team_quadrant, charles_leclerc, and 2,903,940 others

queeny/n LETS ACTUALLY GOOOOOOOOO

mclaren that's our girl 🧡 well deserved

lecstappenshipper this is basically a hard launch

y/nhaswins such a beautiful race y/n!!!!

charles_leclerc so so proud of you mon ange 🧡❤️ *liked by y/nverstappen4*

charles_leclerc celebrations tonight? 😈

y/nverstappen4 but of course

maxverstappen1 I know where you sleep leclerc 🙂

y/nverstappen4 DRINKS ON MAX TONIGHT

oscarpiastri YEAAHHHHHHH 🍾

maxverstappen1 what?

charles_leclerc thank you max ☺️

maxverstappen1 I NEVER AGREED TO THIS

oscarpiastri mega job mate 👊

y/nverstappen4 ossieeeeeee 👊 don't worry, you'll be up there soon! just gotta wrap your car in bubble wrap to protect it from evil ferrari 😠😤

charles_leclerc ☹️

y/nverstappen4 NOT YOU CHARLIE - THE OTHER ONE (LEWIS HURRY UP)

lewishamilton you don't think I'm trying 🤨

mcy/n she's so funny what the heck?? 😂

chefy/n we said - LET HER COOK

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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ellemj · 3 months

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Off-Limits: Ch. 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.

Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.

Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.

The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.

“You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.

“We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”

Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.

As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.

Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.

“It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.

Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.

“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”

Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?

Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.

“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.

“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.

“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.

“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.

“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”

It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?

When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.

When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.

“We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”

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#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mafia bucky x you #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes

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sincerelyneo · 2 months

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teeth | l.hc

“fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet”

💿now playing: teeth by 5 seconds of summer

❯ summary: Traditionally the caption of the cheer team and the captain of the soccer team are friends - some even date. But you and Donghyuck definitely aren’t friends - if anything you’re enemies. The two of you can’t go five minutes without an argument. So, why are you letting him fuck you in the locker room?

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: college!au, enemies with benefits, smut

❯ words: 2.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, bickering, swearing, unprotected sex (don't do this!), hate sex, degrading names, general name-calling, manhandling, haechan is an asshole, but reader is also lowkey mean, choking, use of nickname 'princess', reader uses she/her pronouns, hardly any plot, it's literally just them hate fucking idk what to tell ya.

cheeky author's note: i'm very brtish, so referring to this as soccer literally made me want to rip my hair out 😀

“You don’t have to be so rough you know, Hyuck!”

"Will you just shut up and let me fuck you!?" He snaps.

The red metal of Lee Donghyuck's locker is cold against the skin of your bare back. Honestly, you don’t even know how it happened. But somehow the captain of the soccer team (and the boy you swear you hate) has you pinned against the boy’s lockers, one leg wrapped around his waist and the top half of your cheer uniform hiked up just enough to give him a full display of your tits. His left-hand grips your hip so tightly that you’re certain he’s doing it on purpose just to piss you off.

Not only that, but he also has your skirt bunched up around your waist. Giving him just the right amount of easy access to pull your panties to the side and tease his cock between your folds.

"Will you just hurry up and stick it in!?" You try to yell at him but, from the way he’s teasing the head of his cock at your entrance, the attempt comes out like a feeble whine.

Exactly on command, the scowl on your face quickly morphs into a wince, and the annoyed quirk on your lips disappears to form a small 'o' as Hyuck’s grip on your hip hardens and he pushes his cock quickly into your cunt. You can’t complain though - you did just tell him to stick it in.

"Shit," you squirm, hand coming up to his chest, pressing hard against the badge of his soccer uniform that rests on his right peck.

"Now look who’s needy," He teases. "I vividly remember you saying I’d be the shittest fuck on the soccer team."

"That’s what this is about!? You’re still mad that– uhh," you’re cut off by your own moan and your nails sink into the fabric of his shirt when he starts to move his hips. His pace is surprisingly slow - deliberately teasing - in comparison to his rapid first thrust inside of you.

"Christ! Even when you fuck you talk too much," Hyuck curses, his hand wrapping around your arm to free himself from the grip you have on his shirt.

"You're one to talk," You hiss back. "Even when you fuck you’re still an annoying little asshol– "

You gasp as he pulls out of you completely and then thrusts into you once again.

"You could've at least warned me, you dick,” You exhale, your walls readjusting to his size for the second time - and what a big size he was.

“Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture princess.”

You can’t believe that even when he’s buried to the hilt inside of your pussy he’s still calling you that stupid fucking nickname. It’s not the word ‘princess’ itself that bothers you per se; it’s Lee Donghyuck’s intention behind the name that makes your blood blister with anger. He’s been calling you ‘princess’ since your freshman year in college but you’d only ever inquired about it recently.

You were at a party, and even though you hate the bones of Lee Donghyuck, you’d be lying if you said your social circles didn’t overlap. It was inevitable, he’s on the soccer team, you’re a cheerleader; honestly, the two of you should be friends. But you’re not. And because of your strained relationship, it was no surprise that the minute you walked through the door he’d picked a fight with you.

You can't even remember what the argument was about now, but you know the two of you had gone back and forth in a boxing match of insults that always ended with him throwing the word ‘princess’ at the end of his rebuttals. And you really couldn’t quite understand why. In your mind, being called a princess was a compliment, but to Donghyuck, princesses were “spoilt bitches who have no grip on reality.”

Safe to say you didn’t think the term was one of endearment after that.

And it was at that same party where you’d insisted Donghyuck would be the shittest fuck on the soccer team – something you’re currently finding out as being not true as he fucks you senseless six ways to Sunday. In all honesty, even when Yuta had asked you the question in a silly little game of truth or dare, you knew Hyuck was the cop-out answer. Truthfully, your real answer would have been Jisung or Chenle. They’re both a little younger and act more awkward with you. But still, you’d let hell freeze over before letting Lee Donghyuck think he was a better fuck than somebody else. However, you’re pretty sure you’ve broken that promise to yourself from the way you’re breathlessly panting and gasping from the vigorous drilling of his cock. That or hell genuinely has frozen over.

But still, what did he expect? The two of you couldn’t go half a second without a petty argument. Sometimes you find yourself just doing it because you were bored and he was there. After all, it’s just the norm between the two of you.

That’s why you can’t quite understand why he’s taking a stupid comment said in a passing game of truth or dare to heart. You’ve said worse to him, you're sure of it.

Hyuck pulls out of your pussy and the emptiness that lingers between your legs has you groaning – even if it’s just for a second. He doesn’t give you long to harp on the loss of friction because he wastes no time dropping your leg from his hip, gripping your waist and slamming the front of your body against his locker.

You want to make another snarky comment about his roughness, but you secretly love it. Well, it’s not so secret actually — Hyuck is well aware that you like his manhandling because he feels your wetness becoming more slick on his cock as he thrusts into you from behind.

His pace in the new position is still tortuous, slow and teasing, and so fucking annoyingly good. But you don’t know how much longer you can take the tormenting leisurely pace. You want more - you need more. If he didn't have your arms pinned behind you and you flush against the lockers, you’d claw at his back to make him go faster.

You feel a warmth on the nape of your neck as he nuzzles against your ear, placing a kiss so gently, that you’re shocked at the sudden contrast in his demeanour.

“This the shittest fuck you’ve had, huh?”

No.

“Yes,” you reply and he growls deeply. There’s a rough snap of his hips and it catches you off guard so much you have to bite down on your lip to suppress a whimper.

“Fucking liar,” he scoffs.

The insult makes your face screw up in a glare, but still, all you can manage is a breathy, “Am not.”

No matter how good the length of his cock is making you feel, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right – that he’s not the worst fuck on the soccer team. Not that you had much experience with the others.

But even though you refuse to use your words to tell him you’re loving it, your body betrays you by being so fucking responsive to his touches. And no matter how hard you fight against him, Hyuck never lets you gain an inch. In fact, every time you try to free your arms from his, he lets out a frustrated groan, and the sound only makes your pussy throb harder.

His hand slips up your body until it finds your throat, where his fingers dig into either side of your neck. He stops his thrusts.

“Well if you’re not lying, are you saying I’m a shitty fuck princess?” He asks innocently as if he’s about to be gentle with you, but you know better. After all, this is Donghyuck. “If you want to pretend like you don’t want this; if that helps you sleep at night, then fine, but your slutty cunt is so fucking wet, I can almost feel you soaking my balls.”

He ducks down to place a kiss on your jaw, and you feel his lips smile into it as you shudder from his words. Instinctively, you swing your head away from him, only to be yanked back by the hand around your throat. He chuckles against your skin, hips starting to move again, thrusting shallowly into your stretched cunt.

“If I’m such a shitty fuck, I supposed you want me to stop, huh?” He asks in a low voice, lips grazing your cheek.

Noises you’ve never heard yourself make before tumble from your mouth as you moan and sob shamelessly. You try to bite your tongue, try not to fuel his ego, but his rhythm is too good at tearing down your guard, which is why you find yourself crying out, “Please don’t stop!”

He laughs, fucking you harder and faster, the stings of pain from his cock hitting you so deep morphing into a hot ache of pleasure that coils tighter and tighter in your core.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls.

His fingers, still on your throat press into your skin, not hard enough to cut off your air supply but just enough pressure to force out strangled moans. Your shoulders rub against the coarse material of his soccer kit, grounding you against him as he fucks you in punishing thrusts.

You don’t want to admit it, but your body can’t resist it.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” you mumble, eyes squeezed tight together.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me like a good little slut?” he murmurs into your temples

The low rumble of his voice has the tension in your core ratcheting higher, pushing you closer to your release. Your head feels like it’s floating as the tight spring in your stomach coils until it finally snaps and has your knees buckling beneath you.

Hyuck keeps his speed steady, fucking you through your climax and savouring the way your walls clench around him in rigid spasms. Your orgasm triggers his and he clenches his jaw.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he ruts into you harder, and all you can do is moan for him.

“Please,” you whimper.

He chuckles at your submission - he’s never seen you like this before - so needy and desperate. He didn’t think it was possible to love anything about you; but this right here, you fucked out and pleading for his cum, yeah, he fucking loves it.

He ruts into you a last few times with thrusts that are wild and more frenzied, his thighs slapping against your ass. He contemplates cumming inside of you, but he figures he’d save that for another day since the two of you had forgotten about a condom and hadn’t really discussed it.

And…did he just think about having sex with you again?

With a loud groan that rattles against the metal in the empty locker room, Hyuck pulls out of your cunt and jerks his cock until he’s cumming onto the small of your back. Unable to stop yourself, you moan softly and a stupid smile spreads across your face when you hear him sigh.

After that it's silent, only your rapid breaths echoing in the room. He’s pressed against you, face buried in your neck, holding you and your weak legs in place. You stay like that for a beat, but then you remember who it is that’s just fucked you.

Without any more hesitation, you shake his grip and push him away from you. "Christ! Stop breathing down my neck. Fucking gross."

If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s your arch nemesis you would have stayed tangled up in him a little while longer, letting yourself get soaked up in the fact that that was the best sex you’ve ever had.

As you turn around to face him, he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen on his face.

“There’s a towel in my bag if you want to…”

You scoff, “How chivalrous of you.”

You pull the towel from the bag in his locker and start wiping at his cum on your back. Your body is turned away from him but you can still feel his eyes lingering on you as you wipe away.

You stop to look at him, “What are you still doing here? We have a game in like 10 minutes. Shouldn’t you be like…warming up or something?”

“I think I’m already warmed up,” he mumbles and you shake your head with a smile, going back to cleaning yourself off.

“Seriously, get on the pitch,” you demand when you see him still lingering.

There’s a hand in his hair, scratching his head and he looks a little flushed. You never see him like this, it’s weird. The Hyuck you know and loathe is cocky, smug, arrogant, all of those kinds of words; but the one in front of you looks so awkward, flushed. Is it weird you kinda like it?

“Are you waiting for me to tell you you aren’t a bad fuck or something? Seriously Hyuck, get lost,” you try and joke, pulling down your cheer uniform.

“No..I…” he stumbles.

You groan, “Oh no, don’t do this. Don’t make things weird.”

“I’m not—”

“Can’t you just be like a normal guy and…I don’t know, say it felt good to fuck me like you hate me or some shit?”

His eyes sweep over your face as if he were studying you. His face softens and he steps closer.

“I mean I could say that, because it felt fucking amazing actually,” he says and you swallow thickly. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

You pause, freezing as he comes towards you. You don’t even register how close he is until you feel his breath on your lips and his chest against yours.

“What?”

“I don’t actually hate you that much,” he admits, and your eyes widen.

“Yeah right, funny joke,” you roll your eyes and laugh sarcastically but he’s not laughing with you. In fact he’s just looking at you, deadpan, and it’s starting to freak you out.

When you realise that he is in fact serious, you cross your hands across your chest.

“You’re not gonna start doing all that cheesy shit they do in the movies, where you profess your undying love for me, and tell me you never really hated me and it was all just a miscommunication, are you?”

“Fuck no!” He almost gags at the mention of it. “Just because I said I don’t hate you that much doesn’t mean I like you? Are you crazy?”

“Well I’m just making sure,” you poke his chest.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “But I do wanna do this again…” he trails off so quietly that you wouldn’t have heard it if there was anybody else in the room with you.

“This?”

“Yes, this. Us. Fucking,” he explains. “I fucking hate you, but fuck, I think I love your pussy.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #haechan x reader #nct hard hours #kpop smut

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thecardiganunderthebed · 6 months

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Left handed

Sirius and Regulus were both left-handed. This was seen as low class in the Black family so they both were forced taught to write with their right hand. Sirius being Sirius never really cared and wrote with his left hand because "I shall write how it is comfortable mother, and my comfort lies in writing with my left hand so.......fuck you <3". But Regulus, oh poor Regulus tried to write so neatly with his right hand to make his mom proud that he would take double the time to write down notes.

That was until he learnt it didn't matter.

On a normal Tuesday morning in his 6th year at Hogwarts Sirius black was feeling an emotion he hadn't felt since the last time he saw Moony in a suit......dumbstruck. He had stopped in his tracks, successfully causing Peter, walking behind him, to fall down.

James frantically tried to look at the subject that had caused Sirius Black to finally and uncharacteristically shut up about how amazing eyeliner was.

"Padfoot you okay?"

"He's writing with his left hand."

"What?"

"I- James, he's writing with his left hand". Offering no more of an explanation the oldest Black brother walked to the Slytherin table as if in a trance. With the determination he was walking with it would take an act of god to stop him. He reached and very deliberately did not look at anyone but his younger brother, writing his potions homework, with his left hand.

"You aren't supposed to stir that 7 times clockwise, it's 3 times clockwise and 4 times anti-clockwise. It makes the midnight blue shade appear quicker."

Regulus looked up to judge whoever had dared try and correct him when he looked up and realised.....oh. Okay.

"Hello to you too dear brother", he said with a raised eyebrow and nothing more.

"You're writing with your left hand'

"So I am."

"It would piss her off if she knew"

"So it would."

A quick flash in Sirius' face reminded Regulus of the look he gave him when Regulus stole cookies for both of them with the help of Kreacher, pure unrestrained pride.

"Well mieux vaut tard que jamais" Sirius said and quickly walked away

And that one proverb told Regulus that he was forgiven, that Sirius understood and most importantly, that he had his brother back.

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syoounn · 22 days

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•Asking bsd men silly question and proving them wrong

•Characters: Chuuya, Fyodor, Sigma

(This is a silly rushed fanfic just dropping it, lol)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chuuya

Chuuya was peacefully snuggled up to you.. as you were bored, of course, and decided to start something silly again. You sit up on a bed, looking at him seriously.

"Chuu.. Would you give me your heart.. if i needed it?" You asked.

“I’d give you more than just my heart if you needed it, Doll.” Chuuya said as he placed his hands together, resting them on his stomach as he looked up at you with a soft smile. “Ya know that.”

"Wrong answer..!"

“What do you mean wrong answer?!” Chuuya was quite confused by the reply, finding it puzzling as his eyebrows furrowed. That was a clear answer right there… Was it because it was too straightforward, or did you really want to be difficult…? He thought to himself.

"You got it wrong, so, no kisses for now," you said, teasing him..

“Dammit” Chuuya mumbled, feeling upset about the wrong answers he was giving, but now a tad annoyed at the fact that he couldn't get kisses if he wanted one. “Dammit, you're being difficult on purpose, aren't you, Doll?”

"Fine, keep bein' difficult then." Chuuya groaned, now turning away from you and burying his face into the pillow so you couldn't see his pout. "I'm trying to kiss ya here, but I guess that ain't happening."

You giggled as you watched him sulking and hugging the pillow. Chuuya's pout deepend, hearing you giggle, knowing that you were deliberately trying to annoy him. He wasn't going to cave in that easily, and so he laid there, continuing to sulk with his face in the pillow. "Shut up, you're so damn cruel and for what...?"

Chuuya grumbled as he kept his head buried into the pillow, making sure his annoyance was apparent, but finding it all too amusing to turn back around.

He could just grab you whenever he wanted to, so why was he being so hesitant now? With a groan and a light huff, he rolled over to see you. Taking a deep breath in, he prepared to grab you, wanting this to be over.

Chuuya felt you go slightly limp when he pulled you onto him, seemingly getting comfortable. Oh damn, you were in his grasp now. He could hold you as long as he wanted to, keep you close to him. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sound of your breathing. With a light snicker he spoke,

“There, now I got ya.”

You're now locked on Chuuya’s arms, making it impossible to get out of it. He buried his face on your neck and mumbled about you being mean as you just chuckled and eventually gave up and cuddled him back.

You still can't help but adore his pissed expression and successfully got him played as two of you enjoyed the embrace of each other and-..

Fyodor

You've never seen much of emotion on Fyodor... so you decided to ask a question since he believes in himself that he's never wrong. He's a smart man, after all.. you just pray that your trick would work on him.

"Can i ask a question..?" you asked.

Then go ahead, dear. Fyodor leans back in his chair, and a small smirk appears on his lips. As he looked like he already knew what you were planning.

"Do i mean the world to you?"

"Of course, you do, beloved. You mean more to me than anything else in the world." Fyodor gives you a soft look, and as he speaks, his voice is gentle, though there's a hint of something else within the deep timbre - something that feels a little off. Your heart skips a beat as his dark eyes narrow, and he leans forward, crossing his legs.

Therefore, he didn't say the real answer as you were happily about to prove him wrong.

"That’s a wrong answer..!" You said.

He snorts. That's wrong? You're telling me that's wrong, dear? An unreadable look passes through his eyes.

"It should be, i mean the universe to you," you said proudly and finally had a chance to prove that he's wrong by your own words.

Fyodor stares at you, his eyes almost seeming to shine with a dangerous shine. Do you want me to ask you a question, my dear?

You looked at him confused as he spoke with the smile of his.. "Do you think I would make you my wife if you didn't mean the universe to me, darling?" Fyodor's voice is low, and there is no trace of his usual humour when he speaks.

You completely froze and got defeated there... he definitely got you.

He chuckles as he leans back slightly. His voice, although still cold, turns back to one full of amusement when he speaks once more. "Now, my dear, don't look so scared. I'm sure I can help you with your worries." Fyodor gives you a small wink before he gets up from his chair, his movements graceful and smooth as he walks over to you and wraps his hands around your waist... as he slowly-..

Sigma

Holding a soft smile as he looked at you with those shy loving grey eyes of his.. Sigma has always been soft and gentle with you. He's currently cuddling with you after a long day from managing the Sky Casino. You decided to confuse him, perhaps.. "mess" with him.

"Hm.. if you said the correct answer, I'll give you something.. "

“And what question is that, my love?” He asked while still holding your small frame close to him in his arms, his hands gently rubbing your shoulder and your back. His soft smile never faltered.

"If you were in a room with 100 women.. would you be able to tell my laugh?"

“Without a doubt.” Sigma replied instantly. He could easily recall your cute and bubbly laugh. It was one of his most favourite things about you, apart from his love for you, of course. He's so in love with you..

"Incorrect..!"

“But..?” He seemed confused by your reply. He truly believed he was able to tell your laugh easily apart from others. He then looked at you with some form of disappointment, waiting for you to tell him the right answer.

"Why would you be in a room.. full of women?" You asked suspiciously...

He went silent for a moment. His facial expression was still one of disbelief. He eventually spoke his answer to your question after processing it.

“I wouldn’t be in a room full of women, I’m only interested in one.” He then softly chuckled in that same shy, loving manner that he always did.

“The one that’s currently in my arms.” He added afterwards. He then brushed his thumb through your hair, keeping a soft, loving smile.

“I have no interest in being in a room full of women, or any other woman for that matter apart from you.” He reassured you, his soft loving smile never faltered. He was still brushing his thumb through your hair.

“That’s the real answer.”

And yes.. as you expected.. you can't really continue what you were planning as you can't help but melt on his touch and loving gaze. It's hard to try and mess with him on how adorable he looks.. you really got defeated without even trying.

Sigma chuckled as a result of your defeated expression. His soft, loving smile stayed in place.

“I knew you were trying to pull something. But I was able to answer it just fine.” He teased you, softly placing a kiss on your forehead. Since you would always pull the unexpected on him, he always managed to win using that loving gaze of him.. your weakness.

Ranpo

(Bro already knew the answer before you could even asked.)

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#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fluff #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #sigma x reader

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gremlingottoosilly · 4 months

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konig with a partner that deliberately pisses him off/acts bratty just to get punished with spanking/mean sex??? bro would take a hot minute to catch on lolololol

Embarrassing him in front of his troops because you know the sex is going to be soul-crushing after this. You won't be able to walk for days - just because Konig has a very simple of logic that you wouldn't be able to yap around and find out if you're tucked away safely in his arms - so, it's only natural he would fuck you as hard as he can. Imagine trying to make fun of him or his technique - if you want your hips crushed in his hold, you can just whisper to him that he become kinda too fast lately - god, this man would fuck you for hours after this, not stopping until you're an overstimulated mess and his dick is getting practically tortured. Poor, poor guy( it's hurting him more than you, he swears on god!! and other entities too, for a good measure. He would spank you after an important strategy meeting - you weren't present, of course, being a civilian, but you were annoying with your messages and naughty photos while he was trying to concentrate on the war efforts, and now he comes home frustrated and pent up...prepare your sorry ass to get spanked and bruised by his large hands, with his degradation and praise mixed up and adding to a good measure.

#cod #konig x reader #konig

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grandlinedreams · 3 months

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|| notes: first non-AS!reader thing for Azriel yeehaw

|| warnings: injury, mention of blood, pining, angst

Two fingertips prod at broken skin, elicting a burst of wildfire pain.

"Fuck," you hiss, teeth gritting as fresh blood leaks down your skin. It'd been poor judgement on your end that lead to the naga getting a lucky hit in before you could dispatch it, though you're almost grateful for the amount of the creature's blood that stains your gear ㅡ hiding the smell of your own beneath it.

Busy trying to scrub blood from your skin so you can clean it properly, you wish you could say that you don't notice your sudden company ㅡ but you do, eyes sweeping to meet hazel in the mirror of your bathroom.

"Ever heard of knocking?"

Azriel looks less than amused, eyes flicking over the mess of your clothing, then to the gash that stretches across your ribs. "You're injured."

You snort. "Nothing gets past you, spymaster." Azriel's eyes narrow, but he doesn't rise to the bait as he steps closer.

"You should've said something. Madjaㅡ"

"Is busy enough," you interrupt. "I can handle it myself." You eye him, then point at the doorway. "You can leave."

A muscle in Azriel's jaw jumps. You can tell you're getting on his nerves ㅡ and you wish you could stop, but it's the only way you know how to handle just how off-balance he makes you feel.

"Let me help."

Maybe you've lost more blood than you thought. Azriel stares at you, and you hide the urge to blush under a scowl. "Fine. Suit yourself."

The way you yank your ruined shirt up and over your head makes your side throb, but it's more than worth it for the deliberate way Azriel averts his gaze. You almost think he might be blushing ㅡ but there's no sign of pink on his cheeks when he turns his attention to gathering the supplies he needs from the mess you've set out.

You end up sitting on the basin with him standing between your legs ㅡ and the percieved intimacy of it makes your heartbeat stutter and ache in equal measure. You're not dumb enough to think that he'd be interested in you ㅡ not when his eyes have been on Mor for so long.

And you don't blame him ㅡ Mor is beautiful, quick on her feet and with her tongue. Dazzling and captivating ㅡ a rival for the sun in all her blinding intensity.

The brush of Azriel's fingers against your bare skin makes your breath hitch, and he freezes. "Am I hurting you?"

Yes. You can feel his eyes on you, assessing. You look away, fingers curling against the basin lip. "No."

Azriel reaches for the tin of salve. "You should be more careful."

"How very kind of you to tell me what I already know." Azriel stiffens at the edge to your tone. "I didn't do it on purpose, Azriel."

"Next time, take me with you." He begins winding soft bandage around your ribs. This close, he's hyperaware of the warmth of your body, your scent that makes him want to press his face to your neck.

You scoff. "Why? So you can tell me everything that I do wrong?"

Azriel's palms meet the mirror on either side of your head, caging you in. His eyes blaze, firebright with irritation. "Why," he hisses, "do you insist on being like this?"

Because the only time he pays attention to you is when he's scolding you. Because the only time you get emotion out of him is when you're intentionally trying to piss him off. Because youㅡ

Your expression goes unreadable. "Get out."

Azriel stares at you, looks like he wants to say more ㅡ but he pulls away, turning and leaving without another word. You wait until you're certain he's gone to sigh, leaning your head back against your mirror with a thump.

The wound is bandaged, but all you do is hurt.

#ㅡmine.#acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #az x reader

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millenari · 5 months

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The terrible bore bit of Cats 98 is amazing because Tugger spends the entirety of his song deliberately annoying people. It's like his whole thing. Either he annoys people who dislike him and pisses them off or he annoys people who like him and revels in how they put up with it. He loves annoying people. His whole thing in Pekes is annoying everyone too; it's his whole gimmick, being h‌orny and annoying. And even worse than that he's basically impossible to annoy in return, notably by the likes of Bomba and Etcetera-- he's so insanely comfortable in his own skin that he can say or do pretty much whatever he wants and is untouched by the reactions of the others around him.

MOSTLY! BC WHEN MISTO skitters up to the front of the stage for the terrible bore line he barely even says Tugger's name before Tugger makes this face

Misto hadn't even insulted him yet! That's just his reaction to Misto contributing, he already knows the little bastard doesn't have anything good to say.

& it's just so hilarious that Tugger, this professional annoying asshole who makes a game out of pissing people off and being entirely unruffled in return, just immediately goes through the seven stages of grief the second Misto inserts himself into the song, with the thousand yard stare and everything. Doesn't even try to stop him. Doesn't try to retaliate or anything either-- some Tuggers ruffle Misto's hair condescendingly or smack his arm or whatever after that line, but 98!Tugger just stands there and waits for Misto to be done. & all the while he's mentally transcending the mortal plane Misto just looks blisteringly proud of himself. It's just so fucking funny.

#cats fan on main #cats the musical #tuggoffelees

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abrahamvanhelsings · 2 years

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dracula, arrogantly pointing at a wolf that's going completely rabid in his presence, knowing full well why it's doing that: keeper, these wolves seem upset at something

thomas bilder, deliberately trying to piss him off: maybe it's you. bony cunt.

#KING. LMFAO #dracula daily

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autumnshighlady · 4 months

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Run For Your Life (pt. 2)

Dark!Azriel x dark!reader

summary: you've been with Azriel for 6 months now, and you began to embrace your twisted side. Azriel finds out what happens with you're pissed off, and you decide to punish him.

special dedication to @febbrile for giving me this idea for part 2

warnings: DARK FIC! both Az and reader are unhinged psychos, sub!azriel, dom!reader, flirting, possessiveness, knife play, orgasm denial, masturbation, face sitting, gore and violence, terrible communication, there's one thing that's deliberately left unclear (send me an ask with what you think it is / what actually happened)

word count: 8.7k

see the playlist for this fic

read part 1 here

A/N: As you may know, i've had a very rough few days. I was going to take a break from writing but decided to finish this fic up first, so the last 500 ish words are rushed and i apologize for that but i hope you enjoy anyway

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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“I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He purred before his shadows encompassed him and he vanished, leaving you alone wondering what just happened.

SIX MONTHS LATER

You tapped your nails on the wooden bartop, scowling. The whiskey burned your throat, but you barely felt it. You were pretty sure a male from a few seats down from you was trying to get your attention, but his yappy voice faded into the background. The skin tight black dress you donned was constricting, making your skin sticky and sweaty. But you paid it no mind, for your attention was elsewhere.

Azriel was chatting with a pretty female over by the counter where you order food. She was tall and leggy, curly black hair swept into an elegant updo that showed off the open back of her dress. Her hand was brushing against Azriel’s arm, her head thrown back in a high pitched laugh at a joke that surely can’t have been that funny. Anger shot through your veins as Azriel’s white canines flashed in a charming smile, not even glancing your direction.

You couldn’t decide whose throat you wanted to slit more.

For the past six months, Azriel’s visits had become an everyday routine. At first, you had resisted, attempting to fight him off as you began to realise one night wasn’t enough to satisfy his obsession with you. He always emerged victorious, always getting what he wanted in the end, your traitorous body urging you to let him take care of you. It had taken you a few weeks to come to your senses, but you were glad. Azriel knew exactly how to take care of you, not just in the bedroom, but in everyday life. He chose your outfits for you, your meals, your nights out, everything. At first, you hated it. But now, it was freeing. You no longer had to worry about anything, knowing Azriel would take care of it.

Azriel took excellent care of things that belonged to him.

Every cell in your body needed him now. He was like oxygen, a constant requirement to keep your body going. Every second the shadowsinger spent away from you was pure torture, leaving you a whiny mess when he returned from work. To anyone else, it would seem pathetic, like you were a helpless wreck of a female. But they couldn’t be more wrong. It was the opposite – it made you powerful. Not only did you belong to Azriel, but Azriel belonged to you. You had the spymaster of the Night Court all to yourself, wrapped around your finger and ready to bend the world to your whim.

Except it didn’t feel that way right now, as the male you were now completely obsessed with was eyeing up the cleavage on another female. You scowled harder as he did nothing to deter the female as she stepped even closer to him, practically crawling into his lap. The bartender handed you another shot, and you angrily downed it, not even feeling the burn.

A male slid into the seat next to you, so close you could smell his cheap cologne. He was on the shorter side, blonde shaggy hair framing his boyish face. Large eyes drank in your figure hungrily, and he slid a hand up your back with the confidence of a much more attractive male. “Another drink for the lady over here.” He said to the bartender, flashing you what he must have thought was a charming smile. “So, what’s a pretty female like you doing–”

“Fuck off.” You grumbled, interrupting him. You reached behind and slapped his arm off your back, his skin like a wad of slime on your own.

“Oh, come on, baby,” The male persisted. “I just bought you a drink. The least you could do is entertain me.”

You groaned inwardly, sneaking a glance at Azriel. He had finally looked up at you, hazel eyes simmering with rage. The female leaning against him was too busy giggling to notice that his attention was no longer on her. His scarred hand was limp on her waist, his body frozen as he glared at you. It made you snort, how hypocritical he was being to only look at you when another male had your attention, despite him being the one with a female draping herself all over him.

So you ignored the shadowsinger. Let him have a hissy fit, as far as you were concerned he was going to fuck the pretty female anyway. If he can branch out, why can’t you. You quickly downed the drink the bartender sat in front of you, then turned toward the blonde male next to you, giving him your best sultry look. “I have a better idea,” You purred. “Why don’t I entertain you somewhere else?”

His eyes widened, a look of surprise and glee crossing his face as he fumbled to toss some money to the bartender for the drinks. You gathered your purse, turning around to meet Azriel’s stare once again. Rage came off him in waves, causing the few fae around him to scatter themselves elsewhere. Even the female that had been all over him had taken a step back in uncertainty, her eyes flickering between him and where his gaze was fixed – you. The spymaster’s body was frozen, a muscle in his neck twitching in anger. You half expected him to storm over and fling the male aside, grab you by the waist and drag you home to punish you. But he did no such thing. He only glared at you as you grabbed the male by the arm, leading him towards the exit.

You didn’t glance back at Azriel as the male followed you out of the bar and down the road towards the nearby motel.

**********************

Sunlight crept in through the small window next to the bed. The motel’s breakfast was dry and tasteless on your tongue, but you downed it anyway. The bed sheets were half on the floor, your dress from last night draped across the chair in the corner. You were wearing the male’s button-up shirt, the itchy fabric pungent with his scent mixed with yours, the bottom barely long enough to cover your ass. It was uncomfortable, but your dress got ruined last night anyway. You’d have to find somewhere to dispose of it properly.

You had a pounding headache, but the memories from last night couldn’t have been more clear. The images of Azriel’s angry glare, the male’s hands on your body, the pathetic noises he made for you after you left the bar, they were all crystal clear in your mind. You were still furious with Azriel, but satisfied that you got him back.

However, a part of you knew he was angrier than ever before. There had not been a trace of his presence all night, not even his shadows that seemed to always be around you, reporting your every movement back to him. Evidently, he hadn’t even tried to find out where you had gone last night. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous – either Azriel had abandoned you completely, or he was sitting at home, just waiting for you to return.

You shuddered, wondering what he was going to do to you. Maybe he truly would leave you for the other female, maybe that’s how mad he was.

No. You weren’t going to let him do that.

You downed the rest of the breakfast, gathering your things to get ready to check out. You sighed when you realised you had no pants, as the only thing the male had left behind was his undershirt. You stuffed your ruined dress in a paper bag, shut off the lights and left the motel room, not caring that your ass was nearly on display for the world to see.

First stop was to find some pants, and then you had business to take care of.

**********************

Luckily, it didn’t take you long to find a store to obtain some pants. Everyone had stared at your bare legs as you wandered in, but you didn’t care. In fact, it made you chuckle. If Azriel was here, he would have gone ballistic. He was the only one allowed to see you like this. If he knew that over a dozen people had seen your ass cheeks in the last hour, you couldn’t even imagine what he’d have done.

With a set of pants, you had returned to the bar, posing as a friend of the female Azriel was with last night and trying to find out more about her. The mother seemed to be on your side that day, as one of the bartenders was a close friend of hers. He blabbed easily, and within minutes you were able to find out her name, where she usually went on Saturday mornings like this one, and where she lived. Her name was Beatrice, and she always went to the farmer’s market every weekend to pick up fresh vegetables for the week. She lived in a house near the theatre, right in the heart of the city.

So you wandered towards the farmer’s market, hair down and hanging loosely around your face to hide it. The air was crisp and fresh, chatter from the market filling the air as you hovered in the corner, pretending to sift through a barrel of apples.

It wasn’t hard to spot Beatrice. Her curly black hair was trailing down her back, her cheeks flushed with evidence of a hangover. She wore a simple pair of black leggings and a yellow sweater, a cheerful smile on her face as she chatted with one of the vendors. It was almost annoying how she looked just as elegant as she had last night. You made sure to trail her from a distance, staying out of her sight. You wondered if Azriel would be proud, but shook off the thought as soon as it came.

Once you were sure Beatrice only had a few more things to pick up at the market, you slunk down one of the alleys and headed towards her house. You knew it was the fastest way, allowing you to get to her house before she did.

It was a modest home, sunflowers lining the windowsill and a small swing on the porch. The trim was a deep brown, the wooden accents giving it a charming feel. You crept towards one of the windows along the side of the house, sneaking a glance behind you to ensure nobody was watching. You knew breaking into a house in one of the busiest parts of the city was risky. But that was also the beauty of it – there was so much going on that nobody paid attention to you.

It wasn’t hard to take a small knife and pop open the window then crawl through. You gently closed it behind you, then scanned the interior. You were in the living room, and you couldn’t deny that it impressed you. An elegant piano was in the corner, a large couch next to it with a soft-looking blanket with butterflies on it draped over the top. Various trinkets were scattered across the room, ranging from ancient-looking candle holders to a small music box designed to look like a bird cage.

You couldn’t scent Azriel in the room, much to your surprise. But that surprise was replaced by anger – if he hadn’t taken her here, then he could have taken her to his home. The thought made you see red, but you took deep breaths and settled yourself on the sofa. Beatrice would be home any minute.

About ten minutes later, the sound of keys turning the lock at the door snapped your attention back to the present. The door opened, and Beatrice entered with a large bag of vegetables. She didn’t notice you at first, closing the door behind her and turning the lock shut.

“You know, you should really lock your windows too.” You spoke casually, and the female whirled around in fright, dropping her groceries. Her brown eyes widened in fear as they met yours, and you smirked.

“What… who the hell are you and why are you in my living room?” Beatrice stammered, backing herself up against the door.

You snorted, fiddling with the necklace you had picked up off the coffee table. It was the one she was wearing last night, you remembered – a gold chain with a small emerald. “Oh, come on,” You snorted. ‘You clearly didn’t have that much to drink last night, seeing as you were able to grocery shop this morning. Think harder.”

She frowned, and then her face went slack as the realisation appeared to hit. “You were at the bar last night. I saw you leave with that blonde male. Azriel was furious about it.”

Bingo. “Ah, so you know Azriel then.”

“Not really. We met last night and flirted. It was going well until he saw you with that male, then things got tense.”

Your voice was cold as ice as you spoke. “So Azriel flirted back, then?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Yes? I see no issue with that considering you left with another male, I assumed you weren’t together. Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on so you can leave?”

“Come, sit.” You patted the space next to you. Beatrice stayed still for a moment, then carefully walked over to the couch. Her body was tense as she sat down, her breathing shallow.

“Look,” She said slowly. “I don’t know what the deal between you two is. I thought he was available, because he flirted back with me. He did not mention you, and I am sorry about that. But then he went quiet when he saw you with the male, and he was furious when you left with him. He tried to keep flirting with me after, tried to convince me to let him come home with me, but I turned him down. I wasn’t about to be caught up between some weird power struggle between what seems to be a fighting couple. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him use me as revenge. So I rejected his advances and went home alone. That’s all, I promise.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat. Azriel had started this by flirting with Beatrice, you had every reason to retaliate. You knew Azriel probably wanted to take her home, but hearing it out loud made it even worse.

Your face must have given it away, because Beatrice’s expression softened a bit. “I’m sorry, I really am. This must be hard to hear.” She said quietly. “But in his defence, you went home with another male–”

“Shut up!” You yelled, slamming a fist into the table in front of you and making it shake. “Don’t defend him, I wouldn’t have gone home with that male if Azriel hadn’t been flirting with you first.”

Beatrice flinched away from you, fear beginning to creep back into her expression once again as she stood up. “I’m sorry,” She said. “I’m not here to judge you. I don’t want any part of this. But I’ve explained my side to you, so I think it’s best you leave.”

Beatrice walked over to where her groceries lay all over the floor and began picking them up. You bit your lip so hard you nearly drew blood, fist trembling with anger. You knew you should feel relieved that Azriel hadn’t fucked Beatrice, but that wasn’t enough.

So you took deep breaths, relaxing your body and leaning back into the soft cushion. “I’m better, you know.” You said, voice dropping huskily.

The female froze, turning around to face you once again. “What?”

“I’m better than Azriel.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Your voice purred like a cat as you stood up, walking over to Beatrice. She didn’t move as you closed in on her space, your body less than a foot from hers. You could smell her sweet scent, honey and lavender, you noted. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and you leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Azriel is good in bed, but not as good as I am. Sure, he would have given you an enjoyable night, a great one even. And since Azriel is mine, and he failed to give you what you sought after, I feel I am obligated to fulfil your needs in his stead.”

Beatrice inhaled sharply, and you chuckled. You had always enjoyed bedding both males and females, and it had been so long with you submitting to Azriel that you had almost forgotten what it was like to seduce a beautiful female.

“I don’t want to get caught up in whatever this is between you two…” Beatrice’s voice was weak, the scent of her growing arousal betraying her lie.

“Oh, but this is just between you and me.” You said coolly, brushing a curly lock from her face. “Our little secret.”

When you cupped her cheek, she leaned into your touch. Satisfied, you smiled and stepped closer, pressing your body against hers. Your lips brushed hers as you spoke. “I need to hear you say it,” You murmured, caressing her waist with your free hand. “That you want me. Not him.”

“I…” Beatrice’s voice was barely above a whisper. She leaned forward in an attempt to connect her lips with your own, but you drew back.

“Be a good girl and say it.”

“I want you, not him.” She moaned as you squeezed her waist gently. “Please.”

You smiled, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door at the back where you knew her bedroom was.

**********************

The sun was setting as you made your way back home, a small bag of vegetables in hand. The orange rays from the sunset reflected off the emerald necklace, the chain cold as ice around your neck. You knew Azriel would be waiting for you, and you were ready. You ignored the chill of the wind, still in the male’s shirt whose name you never bothered to learn. It offered you little protection against the cold, and you looked forward to the warmth of your home.

Stepping up to your door, the house looked empty. It was an illusion to anyone who walked by. You could sense Azriel’s presence in there, like an icy frost on the wood just waiting to bite you. But you didn’t care what Azriel’s wrath would bring. You had your own plan.

You swung open the door, locking it behind you and placing the bag of vegetables on your counter.

“Would you mind telling me where the fuck you’ve been?”

Having expected him to make a dramatic out-of-the-dark entrance, you didn’t flinch like you used to when he’d sneak up on you. You sighed in annoyance, knowing it’d infuriate him more. “Farmer’s market.” You said dryly.

Azriel’s towering form appeared from the shadows, coming across to face you on the other side of the counter. You knew he was glaring at you, but you didn’t spare him a glance. “From sunup to sundown?” He demanded.

You shrugged, laying out the vegetables. “It was a busy farmer’s market.”

A shadow found its way to your chin, yanking it up and forcing you to look at him. The sight of Azriel made you gulp. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, the anger coming off of him in waves. If you were anyone else, you’d have cowered in fear. But you only raised an eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me.” He said icily. “You were with that male last night, were you with him today, too?”

“Why the fuck does it matter to you?” You spat. “You were too busy burying your dick inside that female to notice me. Not my fault someone else finished what you couldn’t.” The words were completely untrue, but you didn’t care. You just needed them to land their mark.

Azriel laughed heartlessly, but the anger in his eyes grew stronger. “Are you really that fucking pathetic that I’m not allowed to take my attention off of you for five minutes? Is that all it takes for you to go crawling to the nearest male ready to get fucked?”

“She was flirting with you, you absolute prick!” You screamed at him, ripping away from the shadow’s grip and storming towards the bedroom. “And you flirted back! Don’t act like you’re the victim here. You wanted to make me jealous, but what? You didn’t think I was capable of doing the same?”

Azriel followed you. “Don’t walk away from me.”

You tried to slam the door in his face, but his muscular arm caught it, easily prying it open. Azriel roughly grabbed you and slammed you into the wall. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he didn’t budge. “You’re the one who fucked someone else, not me.” He growled.

You chuckled manically. “Is that what you think happened, Az?”

His grip tightened, bruising your arms. “Don’t play dumb, you stupid whore. I saw you leave with him.”

You kept chuckling, body singing with adrenaline. You saw Azriel’s gaze go down to your body, where an unmistakably male shirt clung to you. The look in his eyes was positively murderous. Wordlessly, he let go of you and you fell to the ground, continuing to laugh at him as he went towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You asked through giggles.

Azriel grabbed truth-teller from his waist, turning to face you. “You have one chance to tell me where that male is, or I will find him myself.”

You pushed yourself up, sighing and letting out another sick laugh. Excitement bubbled in you as you spoke. “I’m not sure there will be much left of him to find.”

For the first time since you’d met him, Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. He went utterly still, hand frozen on the door handle. Nothing moved, except for you. You were practically buzzing, a new kind of high taking over you.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel’s voice was low.

**********************

The male’s hands were all over you as you walked towards the motel. You resisted the urge to squirm away at his teenager-like giddiness. You didn’t feel the cold night air, your body was hot with adrenaline.

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby.” The male said breathlessly, squeezing your ass with one hand.

You let out a fake laugh, but lead him off the cobblestone road. The motel was a few feet away, but that wasn’t where you wanted to take him. Your heels sunk into the mud, dirtying your feet as you headed towards the dark trees in the distance. You felt the male slow behind you.

“Aren’t we going to the motel?” He asked with uncertainty.

“What fun would that be?” You grabbed his hand and pulled him harder. “Come on, trust me.”

The moron just shrugged and continued to follow you. It was another ten minutes before you found a clearing, having nearly tripped over giant roots to get there. This place would do nicely, you decided.

You turned around to face the male, but his shirt was already off and he was in the process of unbuttoning his pants. “Adventurous!” He said excitedly. “I am so fucking hard baby, if you don’t get on your knees and do something about it now I think I might die.”

“Yes,” You said, sliding the knife out of the holster on your thigh. “You will.”

The male barely had a chance to speak before you brought the dagger up and slashed it across his face. Blood spurted from the nasty gash as he fell down, sobbing and clutching his face. His pants were down at his knees, a truly pathetic sight.

“There’s only one male allowed to touch me,” You said calmly. “And if he found out you laid your hands on me, he would do much worse to you than what I’m going to do. So be grateful.”

The male sobbed, pleading and begging pathetically for you to spare his life. But you weren’t phased. After all, your words were true. Nothing you did to him could compare to what Azriel would have done. You were proud of yourself for granting him this mercy. You didn’t know this male at all, know if he’d done anything to deserve a more painful death. But truthfully, you didn’t care.

You leaned down over him, pressing your body into his. It made you want to vomit, but you needed as much of his scent on you as possible. “I want you to thank me.” You said sternly. “Thank me for being merciful. Without me, your death would be stretched over the span of months, if not years. So thank me.”

“Thank you!” The male shouted. “Please, let me go!” It seemed he would do anything you asked if he thought there was a chance at sparing his life. But there wasn’t.

You slashed the dagger across his throat, and hot blood spurted all over you, coating your dress. The male choked on his own blood, sick gurgling sounds echoing throughout the eerie quietness of the clearing. It didn’t take long for the light to fade from his eyes, and death finally claimed him.

Satisfied, you stood up and headed over to the creek to wash the blood off your skin and wipe down the dagger. The water was refreshing, soothing your warm cheeks. You grabbed the male’s discarded shirt and pulled your ruined dress off, rolling the fabric into a ball and stuffing it into your purse. Pulling the shirt over your head, you strode back in the direction of the motel, knowing the wolves will have gotten rid of the body for you by sunhigh.

**********************

You smirked as Azriel stared you down after you told him the story, dumbfounded. His lack of ability to comprehend that you killed the male was almost insulting, but you mostly found it funny. He looked adorable with his eyes wide and his jaw slack, shock written all over his pretty face. It made your blood sing.

“You killed him.” It was more of a statement than a question. No judgement laced Azriel’s deep voice, just awe. Almost as if he was impressed.

“I did.” You said proudly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You would have been proud of me, Az, if you were there. If you had actually paid attention to me instead of trying to fuck Beatrice.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and you instantly realised your mistake. He took a step towards you, cocking his head. “I never told you her name.”

You cursed inwardly at your slip up. You had gotten so caught up in sticking it to Azriel that you mentioned Beatrice by name, something you weren’t supposed to do. Oh well, you’d just have to improvise. “No, you didn’t.” You purred, pointedly bringing your hand up to toy with the emerald necklace.

Azriel’s hazel eyes zoned in on the necklace, and his face went slack once again. “Did you kill her too?”

You giggled, the ice cold necklace a contrast against your warm fingers. “That doesn’t matter to you. Because you won’t get to fuck her, so it shouldn’t matter if she’s dead or alive.”

“She was innocent in this.” Azriel growled. “She didn’t know you were with me.”

“Innocent is hardly the word I’d use.” You snorted. “Besides, you don’t get to be a fucking hypocrite. So you can kill males who put their hands on me but I can’t do the same?”

“You shouldn’t have to!” Azriel hissed, towering over you with his wings flaring. “You are mine. It is my job to protect you, to keep your hands clean. You should not be involved in this shit”

You glared up at him. “I guess I’m just as twisted as you now.”

Something inside the spymaster shifted at your words, and his shoulders slumped. He reached his arms out and wrapped them around you, pulling you into his strong chest. You felt his chin rest against the top of your head, and he inhaled your scent. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” He murmured. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have ignored you, this is all my fault. Please forgive me, I cannot lose you. You are all I think about every breathing moment of my existence. There’s not a line in the world I wouldn’t cross for you. Please tell me how I can make it up to you.”

Part of you wanted to melt into Azriel’s arms, to let him shield you from the rest of the world. To lay you down and worship your body like a priest at the altar, making you feel good and see stars. He was so good at taking care of you, even when he was an ass about it he always knew exactly what you needed at that moment.

But for the first time, you didn’t give in, wanting to show that side of you that you had kept hidden from him. Until now. “You want to make it up to me, Az?” You cooed.

He nodded against your hair, squeezing tighter.

“Kneel.” You said firmly.

Azriel paused, pulling away but keeping his hands on your waist as he stared down at you in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, kneel.” Your voice was edged like steel, a husky but harsh tone to it, one you hadn’t used in a while. At first, you weren’t sure if it would work. Azriel was a dominant male and loved control, seeing if he would be willing to give it up for you was a huge gamble.

But while Azriel had never uttered the words ‘I love you’, he had always promised you that you were his world, that he would do anything for you. And this was his chance to prove it.

“You think you’re in charge?” Azriel’s tone was light, testing the waters to see if you were serious or not. “Come on, sweetheart. You know how good I can make you feel. Let me take over, so you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

You stood with your chin high, unflinching as you repeated yourself. “Kneel.”

Azriel swallowed, and for a moment you thought he was going to laugh and walk out. But the male simply bowed his head, dropping to his knees and placing his scarred hands in his lap. You stepped back, satisfied as you admired the view. The silver moonlight through the windows cast beautiful highlights across the Illyrian. His glorious wings were flared out slightly, the bottom part lightly trailing on the ground. Azriel’s dark hair cast shadows across his face, the only light coming from it being his curious hazel eyes looking up at you. He looked like a fallen angel, a once mighty god begging at your feet.

Satisfaction flooded through your body. The roles would be reversed tonight, you decided. Azriel would be the one begging you this time. You began unbuttoning your shirt, and the male’s hands instinctively reached up to help, so you slapped them away. “Did I say you could move?” You demanded.

“No.” Azriel said sullenly, moving his hands back into his lap obediently. His eyes were dark, a turmoil of emotions behind them. You could tell he was fighting his instincts to assume his usual role, grabbing you and pinning you to the bed to do with as he pleased. But he was fighting to obey you, to give you satisfaction in a different form.

“Then stay there,” You commanded sternly. “And watch.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, seemingly swallowing his protests as he nodded. You shed your shirt and pants, striding confidently over to your bedside drawer, letting your hips sway as you went. You could feel Azriel’s intense gaze burning into you with curiosity, making you chuckle inwardly. He was about to get a taste of his own medicine.

For months, Azriel had controlled your pleasure. He decided when you could touch yourself, when you were allowed to cum, how many times you could be pushed over the edge. And you gladly gave yourself to him, willingly subjecting yourself to his torturous teasing whenever he was mad at you. Once, the spymaster had edged you for an entire night until you passed out. Tears had streamed down your face for hours, body aching the next day from being so tense. Azriel was a generous lover, but a cruel one as well. And now it was your time to turn the tables on him.

You opened the drawer, grabbing the blue vibrator he had gifted you all those months ago. It hadn’t been used much since – there were only a few times when Azriel’s shadows would hold the vibrator to your clit as he pounded into you, as he preferred to use his own hands. As good as the vibrator was, it couldn’t compare to the spymaster’s touch. Which is why you knew he was about to be driven to madness.

Sexual weapon in hand, you walked back over to the kneeling Illyrian. You stopped centimetres from his face, which was level with your thigh. He was breathing heavy, eyes dark as he inhaled your scent. But he had learned from his previous mistake it seemed, as he kept his hands to his sides.

“Take off my panties.” You said coldly. “And do not use your hands.”

Azriel stared up at you, the hazel in his eyes barely visible. He leaned forward, his teeth finding the edge of your blue lace panties. They grasped it, his lips brushing your skin as sharp canines tugged at the fabric. He visibly shuddered, his lips so close to where he wanted them to be, yet not allowed to touch. The scent of your arousal was thick in the air, forcing Azriel to ignore it. You sucked in a breath as his eyes met yours as he managed to slowly pull them down your thighs, not breaking eye contact as they fell to your feet.

You stepped out of the fabric, kicking them to the side and turning around to settle yourself on the bed. You sat on the end, facing Azriel and slowly spreading open your legs. The male’s eyes zeroed in on your glistening cunt, and you noticed his hands trembling with effort to keep them at his sides. You turned on the vibrator, placing the suctioning tip against your clit. The sensation made your legs twitch at the sudden contact, and you let out a loud moan, letting your free hand cup your breast.

Admittedly, the moan was a bit of an exaggeration to piss off Azriel. Evidently, it worked. The shadowsinger was glaring at you. “Oh please,” He scoffed. “We both know that won’t be enough to satisfy you.”

You let out another sigh, kicking the vibrator’s intensity up a notch. “It’s more than you gave me last night. I wore one of your favourite dresses, and you didn’t even try to touch me. I’ve had to go and find satisfaction elsewhere, since you wouldn’t give me any.”

The room was stifling, the scent of Azriel’s arousal mixed with your own, and the faintest traces of Beatrice’s honey and lavender perfume clinging to your skin. You rocked your hips against the toy, your cunt weeping mere feet from Azriel’s desperate face.

“Stop.” He growled sternly. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart. Come on, you know I can do better than that toy.”

You ignored him, your other hand trailing from your breast across your collarbones, caressing all over your skin as you felt that familiar pressure build up in your stomach. It was a slightly foreign sensation, a different feeling than how the buildup to your orgasm when Azriel ate you out felt, or the way your body neared climax with his cock buried inside you. You imagined it was Azriel’s fingers on your clit, expertly working you as you came closer to your orgasm.

“Ok, this little act is over.” Azriel tried to sound firm, but there was a weakness in his voice that dimmed his threat. “Let me touch you. You know the rule – you’re not allowed to cum without my permission. And I don’t give you permission.”

You chuckled at the falter in his tone. “No. You are going to sit there and watch me do what you failed to do the other night. Your rules don’t apply tonight, Az, so suck it up. If you want to touch me, you’ll have to beg.”

Your voice went high pitched as your legs began to shake. Azriel’s protests faded into background noise as you came, your lower body heated and electrified as your orgasm went through you. It wasn’t as intense as some you’d had before, but the unceasing buzzing against your clit as you writhed through your high made you oversensitive.

Once you had come down from your climax, you set the vibrator aside, staring at Azriel. The veins in his arms were prominent with his effort to keep himself from pouncing on you. Disbelief was written all over his face, as if he couldn’t believe you had actually obeyed him. And that he had let you.

“I told you, your rules don’t apply tonight.” You panted heavily. “Now remove your clothes and lay down on the bed.”

Azriel scrambled to his feet, glaring at you but obliging anyways. He smirked confidently as he peeled his shirt off, revealing those rock hard abs that you loved riding so much. You could never get enough of his body, no matter how many times he stripped in front of you. He was truly a work of art from head to toe.

The spymaster unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down to reveal his rock hard erection. Your mouth watered at the sight of his naked form, but you did not budge. You only stared at him coldly, rather than dropping to your knees and giving in like he had clearly expected. Letting out a huff of frustration, Azriel crawled onto his bed, flipping onto his back and settling in.

Shadows curled around his wrists, bringing his arms above his head and holding them prisoner there. Azriel’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and you giggled. It seems his shadows were on your side tonight.

You crawled over top of him, straddling his waist. His hard cock poked into your backside, making your core pulse against his muscled lower abs. You leaned over top of him, placing one hand beside his head and placing your face inches from his own. The spymaster was breathing heavily, staring up at you with awe.

“You weren’t good to me last night, Azriel.” Your voice dropped, a dangerous tone gleaming on the edge of it. “You flirted with another female when I had gotten all dressed up for you. Instead of even just looking at me, you tried to take her home and fuck her instead of me.”

“I didn’t f–” Azriel’s protest was cut off by a gasp, as you lifted your hips off of him and your free hand reached down and firmly gripped the base of his cock, just how he liked it. He choked on his words, eyes widening as you slowly moved your hand up and down.

“You think she’d be enough to satisfy you?” You teased, mocking his words to you earlier. “She satisfied me well enough. But she wouldn’t be able to give you what I can. She wouldn’t know how you like your cock stroked, but I do.”

To emphasise your point, you squeezed him tighter and twisted your wrist, letting your thumb graze the slit. Azriel let out a breathy moan, shutting his eyes.

“Look at me.” You snapped, forcing the male to open his eyes. He obliged, letting out little gasps as you continued to stroke him.

You leaned forward and let your lips graze his neck, your teeth skimming the skin ever so slightly as you picked up the pace of your strokes. Azriel whimpered underneath you – whimpered. The sound was pathetic and needy, and filled you with so much joy. His pretty face was scrunched up with effort, his hands writhing in his unrelenting shadows. You lightly sucked and bit all across his neck and collarbones, knowing that the feather light touches would drive him wild and send him towards his orgasm faster. You knew Azriel always lasted a long time, his god-like stamina making your body tremble as he relentlessly pounded you through orgasm after orgasm.

But you knew by the way his cock twitched in your hand that he wouldn’t last long like this. You let the tip of his cock graze your slit as you pumped, and the shadowsinger moaned loudly, his muscles flexing.

“You like that, pretty boy?” You cooed against his neck.

Azriel whimpered, bucking his hips into your hand.

“None of that now,” You chastised. “I asked you a question.”

He exhaled. “Yes.” Was all he could manage through his moans.

“I can feel how close you are, it’s pathetic. Normally you last longer. Is this something you’ve dreamed of, baby? Hm? Tell me, do you want to cum?”

Azriel’s eyelids fluttered as he fought to keep still underneath you, a thin sheen of sweat coating his tanned body. “Yes! Gods, yes. Please.”

You sank your teeth into his neck, biting down harshly and making him cry out. Your hand next to his arm shifted, letting your fingertips graze the edge of his wing. “Beg for it then.”

“Please,” The spymaster whimpered. “I’ll do anything you want. Please, just let me cum. Please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. Just as his abs tensed signifying his nearing release, you sat up and released his cock. Azriel let out a frustrated yet pathetic groan. “What the fuck?” He protested.

“Not so fun being on the receiving end of that one, is it?” You asked, sitting down on his abs and lazily grinding yourself into them. “I know you’d rather die than admit that you secretly fucking loved it. How pathetic is that? The mighty spymaster of the Night Court, crying underneath me because I wouldn’t let him finish.”

Azriel’s face was deep red, his jaw clenched. A few strands of black hair clung to his forehead. “Please,” He begged with droopy eyes. “I fucked up. Let me make it up to you. Please, let me touch you. Let me make you feel good. Please, I need to touch you. I need you. All I want is to make you feel good.”

You scraped your nail down his chest, eliciting a shiver from the body beneath you. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

A wave of arousal had rushed through your veins at not just the title, but the ease at which he said it. It rolled off his tongue so naturally. Sure, you had been called many names in the bedroom before in both submissive and dominant roles, but this was new. And you fucking loved it.

You gripped his chin firmly, letting your nails dig into the skin as you brought your face closer to his. “Say that again.”

He gulped. “Yes ma’am. Please, let me make you feel good.”

You chuckled darkly, sitting up. The shadows repositioned his arms slightly, giving more room on either side of Azriel’s head for what you were about to do, as if they knew already. “I’m going to sit on your face and use you like my own personal toy. You are going to choke on my cunt just as I have choked on your cock, and you are going to be grateful for it and thank me after. You do not get to touch me with your hands, and you will take what I give you. Am I clear?”

Azriel nodded vigorously, eyes gleaming. Truthfully, you knew this was a reward for him. There was nothing in this world he loved more than eating you out. He had often even encouraged you to ride his face. But never before had he not been able to grab your hips and touch you.

You climbed up his body, seating one knee on either side of his head where the shadows had now cleared space for you. As you slowly lowered your cunt towards his face, the Illyrian strained his neck to lift his head as high as he could in a pathetic attempt to get closer to your core.

Briefly, you recalled all the times Azriel had lectured you about how you refused to fully sit on his face, afraid you’d suffocate him. He’d always end up growling in frustration and grabbing your hips, firmly pulling you down so you were seated on his face.

It was time you showed him you learned your lesson.

With no warning, you lowered your cunt onto his face, fully seating yourself on it and grabbing onto his hair with both hands. Azriel groaned in delight underneath you, the sound sending vibrations right into your core. You moaned in relief, rocking your hips against his face. Lewd noises filled the room as Azriel ate you out like a man who hadn’t had a meal in days, eagerly slurping up all your juices. You shamelessly ground into his face, wanting more.

You cried out as his tongue shoved its way inside you, your clit scraping his nose in a way that made your legs twitch. For a second you wondered how Azriel was managing to breathe, but his relentlessness reassured you that he was perfectly fine somehow.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” You moaned. “It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Eating my pussy? Pretty boy is just a desperate little whore, isn’t that right?”

The noise Azriel made was muffled, but akin to a pathetic whimper. Something you knew would ring in your ears like a new favourite song.

It only took a few more minutes before your orgasm built up, barrelling towards you at rapid speed. Your thighs tensed up, clenching around his face as you came, yanking harshly on his silky hair. Azriel groaned as you did so, your juices coating his face. Part of you had been tempted to not let him make you finish, but you couldn’t help it. His mouth felt too good on you, something you had missed over the last few days.

Finally, you lifted yourself off Azriel’s face, hearing him take in a gasping breath as you did so. His hazel eyes were closed in bliss, face shiny from your juices as he panted for air. “Thank you, ma’am.” He murmured. You crawled down his body, seating yourself back on his abs while you collected your composure.

“You did so good, Az.” You purred, reaching behind you and gently brushing your fingers against his hard cock. “You’re so good to me. Now, have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Azriel said breathlessly.

“What lesson would that be?”

“Don’t flirt with other females.”

“Exactly.” You pulled out Truth-Teller from its sheath and pressed the sharp blade against his throat, the shadows having discreetly brought it to you from the spymaster’s discarded belt. “You are mine, and mine only. Nobody else gets to have you but me. Nobody gets to touch you but me. If they do, I will remove their hands and feed their body to the beasts in the woods. And if you try to touch another female in a manner I would not deem fit, it will be your body that gets fed to the creatures. Understood?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of awe, horror, and lust. It made you chuckle inwardly, how he seemed surprised that this is who you had become. You weren’t sure why he would be – he had become your new life, every fibre of your being tied to his and his alone. Azriel was unhinged and possessive to begin with, even more so now that he had you.

He was bad, but you were worse.

“Yes ma’am.” Azriel croaked out, swallowing against the cold metal of the blade.

“Good. Now you’ve made me cum, I think it’s only fair if I let you do the same, right?”

“You may do as you see fit, ma’am.”

A smile bloomed across your face. You could tell it was hard for him to say – his cock was hard as a diamond, his body begging for a release. But he chose the right answer. “Correct. You may fuck me now, any position you see fit. But you are not to cum without my permission.”

The second the shadows binding Azriel’s wrists together slipped away, his scarred hands grabbed your waist and flipped you over, pinning you underneath him. His eyes were frantic as if he worried you’d change your mind. He roughly spread your legs and you let him, relishing in the feeling of him over top of you. He lined up his cock with your entrance and slammed in.

You gasped, the air leaving your body. Azriel’s size was something you would never quite get used to. It had taken you a long time to be able to take him with no preparation, and even then it still hurt like hell for the first bit. But you learned to relish in the pain, especially when he praised you for taking him so well.

But there was no praise coming from his lips this time. Azriel fucked you relentlessly, chasing the pleasure that you had denied him earlier. His movements were frantic, a change from his usual deliberate pace. The room was filled with slapping sounds and moans. Azriel was hitting so deep inside of you that you began to feel dizzy, your eyes rolling back in your head.

Azriel had fucked you harder than anyone ever had before, but this was completely different. It took less than five minutes for Azriel to tense up, signifying he was approaching his orgasm quickly.

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you?” You teased, voice shaky with the force of his thrusts.

Azriel leaned over you, his head next to yours with one arm cradled around your head. “Yes! Please, I need it! Please let me cum.” His voice was utterly broken and fragmented.

You were silent for ten seconds, just long enough to feel the panic coming from him, making him think you were going to say no. But you brought a hand up and stroked his wing in that one spot you knew drove him crazy. “Yes. Good boy. Cum for me, Azriel.”

The spymaster erupted into a powerful orgasm the second his name finished leaving your lips. Hot seed filled your insides, making you cry out. His hips jutted against you as he came, his head tilted back exposing his throat as he moaned loudly, a single tear running down his cheek.

Azriel’s thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, pumping his cum back into you as it spilled out of your hole. He panted, wings twitching as he pulled out and slumped down into the spot beside you on the bed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

You hummed, satisfied with your work. If you had told yourself months ago that you would be the one to break Azriel one night, you’d have laughed at yourself. It filled you with pride, seeing the stone cold, dominating shadowsinger become a whimpering mess all because of you.

It made everything you had done worth it.

You reached for Truth-Teller, propping yourself up beside him and putting the cold blade onto his skin, causing him to flinch and look at you in surprise. You trailed the knife down his body, circling it around where his heart was. You angled the blade, pressing the tip of it into his skin, right above the beating muscle. A thin trail of blood ran down from the cut. “This heart is mine. And if you try to give it to anyone else, I will carve it out of you myself.”

The shadowsinger was holding his breath, unmoving against your touch. You knew that he would easily be able to disarm you if he needed to, but there was still a hint of fear in his eyes.

No, he was not scared of you cutting his heart from his chest. He was scared of you running away from him.

You smirked, satisfied at his reaction. You weren’t going anywhere. You were right here with Azriel, where you belonged.

#azriel #azriel x reader #sub!azriel #sub!azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #dark!azriel x reader #dark!azriel #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #dark fic #smut #dom!reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

Note

What do you think about some headcannons of a curious Astarion intrigued by Tav’s skincare routine ? :3

This is a funny request, to be honest, but who I am not to explore the topic of body image issues and curses that can fuck up the person's skin in a fantasy setting?

TW: Scars left by physical abuse

Astarion x Tav Who Has to Cover Her Face

Masterlist

Headcanons

Many years ago, you were unlucky to piss off a man who studied necromancy.

He was arrogant and cruel and didn't understand that "no" is a "no".

For your resistance, he mutilated you.

Attacking you with a spell causing necrotic damage.

The half of your face and the right side of your neck look burnt.

You also lost the right eye.

"Once you realize no one will ever want you to feel free to crawl to my bed" he wished you.

Well, you can't punish a necromancer, who was born into a noble family.

You ran away from home.

As far as possible.

You were many things. A beggar, a thief - you did many things to survive.

With time, you learn how to hide your face.

First of all, healing ointments can at least repair some damage.

It's still awful but more bearable.

And blessed be the circus people and spies to invent disguise kits!

It takes ages to apply the make-up, but in the end, you look as if nothing happened.

Life in the camp boosts your anxiety.

What if someone sees you?

And you have to get up really early to make your face look at least decent.

Astarion doesn't pay much thought to it. You like wearing make-up. So what?

One day, he shows up at your tent unannounced (finally feeling comfortable enough around you)

While you are unprepared.

You immediately cover your face, demanding him to leave.

Astarion is taken aback by your reaction, but something tells him something is wrong.

"My sweet, can I take a look?"

You shake your head. No. No one is supposed to see you like that.

But he grabs your hands and pulls them away.

You expect disgust but instead, his eyes glow with anger.

"Who the fuck did this to you?!"

"Who". He knows it was done deliberately.

You tell him everything. About harassment. Lewd words. Pain.

He caresses your mutilated cheek and kisses you.

You spend the rest of the morning crying in his hands.

Astarion doesn't pretend that your face looks "normal".

But he isn't averted by it.

He helps you to apply make-up in the morning and wash your face in the evening.

Sometimes people get rude around you, and Astarion beats the shit out of them (usually demanding apologies).

Astarion also takes care of your prosthetic eye. His rogue hands can deal with the mechanisms much better than you.

When having sex, you notice he always looks directly at you, never trying to close his eyes.

You feel loved. You feel desired. You feel beautiful.

And you feel safe.

If at any time in the future that abuser decides he can't wait anymore and tries to take you by force, he will have to fight someone immune to any form of necrotic damage.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

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wholoveseggs · 9 days

Note

Hello. Was wondering if you’d be willing to write about a dom Elijah with a reader who’s just being an absolute brat and he’s over it please?

Cat and Mouse

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

It's your anniversary party, but you are terribly bored, and the one person you actually want to be around isn't playing fair.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) This was a blast to write, dom Elijah makes me feral too ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutttt, Elijah being playful, dom!Elijah, rough sex, anal sex, choking, hair pulling, Elijah using his tie as a leash, oral sex, and a game of hide & seek....

Elijah was a gentleman in the most basic sense of the word; his smile was disarming, his words were polite, and his eyes were soft and caring. And, for the most part, that was true.

And to the untrained eye, it looked as though Elijah was simply guiding you to a quiet corner, hand placed lightly on the small of your back, a gentle smile on his face, and a sparkle in his eyes.

But once you were alone, it was very clear Elijah was not going to be as kind as he was making himself out to be. You had been misbehaving, and he was about to give you a reminder of exactly what happened when you did.

You were going to pay dearly for what you had been doing. And it was all because you were bored.

You had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get Elijah to notice you, and you had been failing at it miserably.

The party was his idea, and you didn't care much for them. But, like everything else, Elijah was very convincing and got you to agree. You were now regretting that.

It was your anniversary, and while you were happy to be with Elijah, you hated parties, especially ones where you were the guest of honor.

Elijah had made sure every last detail was taken care of, and he was determined that everyone had a great time, and that included you. So when he caught you rolling your eyes, or looking bored, he was quick to correct you.

You only wanted one thing out of this special day, and it wasn't something you could do in the middle of the crowded ballroom.

So, after yet another failed attempt at getting him to pay attention to you, you decided to do the only thing you could think of.

You would start annoying him.

So far, the only person you'd managed to annoy was yourself. You hadn't even made Elijah blink.

So you decided to start small. You started with little things.

You would pretend to affectionately adjust his tie, but leave it in a way that you knew would irritate him. He didn't even acknowledge it.

When he pulled you on to the dancefloor, you would purposefully step on his toes, scuffing up his perfectly polished shoes. He just chuckled softly and held you tighter, but still didn't say anything.

After that, you got a little more desperate.

You were standing beside him, trying to talk to one of the other guests, but you had no idea what they were talking about, and you didn't really care. Your hand wandered from his side, down to his hip, then further down to his ass. You gave it a little squeeze.

Elijah didn't even flinch.

He kept talking like nothing had happened, and you had no idea if you had managed to piss him off, or not.

That was until he excused the two of you and guided you away from the ballroom, his hand firm on your back, his smile gone, and his eyes dark and serious.

"Do you think you're funny?" Elijah asked, his voice low.

"Yes," you replied.

His hand was still light on the small of your back, but his fingers were pressing into your spine, forcing you to stand straight. His smile was still pleasant, but his lips were tight and his jaw was set.

You were in a quiet corridor, out of earshot of the other guests. He backed you up against the wall, his hands on your hips, holding you firmly in place.

"You have been acting out." His voice was still calm, but his tone was sharper, and you winced at his words. "You've been defiant, and rude, and you disobeyed me, and I'm beginning to suspect it's a deliberate choice."

He was right, it was deliberate, you wanted to piss him off, make him react. You liked pushing his buttons, but he was always so controlled, it was getting harder and harder to get a reaction from him.

You had this secret fantasy, to get Elijah so riled up that he would lose his cool and fuck you like an animal. To fight, and struggle, and have him pin you down, and take what was his. You had always felt safe with Elijah, he is your loving husband, he would never hurt you, but sometimes, when you were in the mood, you wanted to play rough.

And when you saw him in his perfectly tailored tux, you couldn't get the image out of your head. You needed it, so badly. You couldn't wait anymore, you were sick of him being so polite, composed, and controlled.

You wanted him to be rough, aggressive, and dominant. You wanted him to hold you down and have his way with you. You had discussed this fantasy with him before, and he'd been... not dismissive, per se, but not willing to fulfill it. He'd explained why, he was afraid he would hurt you. But you were no delicate flower; you were a vampire like him, and you could take a rough fucking.

"Yes, and?" You replied defiantly.

His eyebrows arched slightly and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Since you want to act like a child and play games, let's play one," His voice was steady and smooth, but the fire was in his eyes, and a thrill ran through your body. "You will run and hide, and I will come and find you, and when I catch you..." he leaned in, his mouth next to your ear, his breath hot on your skin, "I will have my way with you."

Your mouth went dry, and you could feel your heart pounding. You licked your lips.

"What do I get when I win?" You asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"You won't," Elijah said matter-of-factly.

You stared at him for a moment, waiting for the inevitable 'but,' but it never came. You didn't have a chance of winning. He was faster and stronger than you, and you both knew it.

"3...2...1." His voice was soft and playful, and then you heard the sound of his feet as he rushed off.

You spun around and tried to catch him, but he was gone, and all you could see was a blur. You began to run, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you hurried through the compound.

You sped all the way back to the party, stopping suddenly when you entered the ballroom, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You quickly fixed your dress and looked around. There was no sign of Elijah, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn't following you, maybe he was giving you a chance.

As you looked around the room, searching for a place that you could use to your advantage, you felt his warm hand on the small of your back. He pulled you against him, his hand sliding up and caressing the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair.

"Behind you," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, his other hand sliding around your waist. He pulled you flush against him, his hands roaming over your curves.

You pulled away from him and spun around but he had vanished. He was faster than you, his movements quicker, and you struggled to track him.

It was equally infuriating and arousing how he teased you, playing a cat and mouse game. He was having fun, and it made you want him even more.

The crowd of guests parted and you saw him, leaning against the far wall, a glass of champagne in his hand, his gaze fixed on you. You stared at him, daring him to approach you, but he didn't move. He was just grinning, his eyes sparkling as the music changed, and Elijah moved.

You watched him walk toward you, his steps confident, his shoulders squared, and a wicked smirk on his face. Then he was suddenly gone, and you gasped.

You searched the crowd frantically, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared again, and you knew it was futile to search for him. You knew he was watching, enjoying the chase.

"Just admit defeat and I'll go easy on you," his voice was a seductive whisper in your ear. You didn't know how he did that, and it sent a chill down your spine.

You swallowed hard, and looked around. He wasn't there, but you could still hear his voice, feel his breath on your skin.

"Or perhaps you want me to chase you, to hunt you down, and fuck you in front of all these people," he chuckled, and your face flushed, and your pulse quickened. "Maybe that's what you've been trying to accomplish."

"You think too highly of yourself," you retorted, hoping your voice sounded calmer than you felt.

"You look like you're talking to yourself in the middle of the ballroom," Elijah's voice was smooth, and he sounded like he was right behind you. You spun around, but he wasn't there. "You should be careful, or someone might think you're crazy."

You were growing tired of the chase; of Elijah's smugness. You were frustrated, and horny, and you were starting to hate him a little. You headed towards the stairs, deciding that you were going to lure him to a more private setting.

Just then you heard the sound of tapping against champagne flutes. Elijah was making his way to the stage, a microphone in his hand. He looked perfect, standing tall and proud, his smile wide and dazzling. You felt your heart race. You stood there, frozen, as Elijah addressed the guests.

"It's time for my wife and I to make a toast," he said, his voice deep and resonating. He looked at you, gesturing you to come to the stage. You felt everyone's eyes on you and you had no choice but to follow. He wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip.

"When I first met my wife," he said, his eyes focused on you, "I knew right away that she was the one." He smiled down at you, and you smiled back, a blush spreading across your cheeks. He pulled you closer, his fingers digging into your flesh. "She is the most beautiful, intelligent, and strong woman I have ever met. And now, after all this time, I'm more in love with her than I ever thought possible." He was looking deep into your eyes, and you felt your knees go weak. He pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, and you melted into him. "Happy anniversary my love,"

The crowd cheered and clapped, and the band started playing again. Elijah kissed your cheek, then whispered in your ear, "We're not done playing yet. Go and hide, and don't let me find you." His voice was a growl and his lips were hot on your ear. You pulled away and stared at him, your heart racing, and you saw a glint in his eye. He was still playing with you, and you were ready for him. You rushed off, and Elijah was once again chasing you.

You managed to make it to the top of the stairs, looking around frantically, trying to decide which way to go. You could feel his eyes on you, and it was making it difficult for you to focus.

You decided to turn left, and headed down the hall. As you turned the corner, you saw Elijah standing at the end of the hall, by the window, looking out. He turned and looked at you and you bolted in the other direction.

You heard him chuckle softly as you ran, and he followed close behind. You almost made it to the landing, but his strong arm snaked around your waist and hauled you backwards, you let out a squeak as he threw you over his shoulder and carried you down the hall.

"Let go of me," you demanded, trying to struggle out of his grasp.

He kicked open the door to the nearest bedroom, and stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Behave," he ordered, throwing you on the bed.

You glared at him, and sat up, you were not going to give in, not yet. He pushed you back down with one hand, the other undoing his tie and sliding it off.

The vision of him, his hair messy and his eyes wild, his jaw clenched, his hands working at the buttons of his shirt, was one that would be burned into your memory forever. It was the most erotic thing you had ever seen, and you couldn't take your eyes off him.

He smiled, and slid his shirt off, and then undid his belt, pulling it free. He tossed it aside, and his hands went to the button and zipper of his pants.

"Take off your dress," he ordered.

"No."

He smirked, and grabbed the fabric in the center of the dress, and yanked. It ripped apart easily, and he tossed the ruined garment aside.

"It wasn't a request," he growled, pushing his pants down, and stepping out of them.

He grabbed your thighs, and yanked them apart, and crawled up on the bed between them. His hands moved up to your waist, and he pulled you closer, his lips crashing against yours.

You melted under him, and his tongue parted your lips, seeking yours. You moaned as he kissed you, and you could feel his hard cock pressed against you.

"You have been so naughty," he murmured, pulling away, and looking down at you. "And I have been patient, I've given you plenty of chances to stop, and now you've reached your last warning."

He pulled back, and his hand came up to cup your face.

"Be a good girl and apologize," he purred.

"Fuck off." You replied defiantly.

He growled and pulled you up, flipping you over and yanking your hips up, his fangs sunk into your ass, making you cry out.

"Say you're sorry," he growled, licking the bite.

"Never," you hissed, pushing back against him.

"You are such a brat," he chuckled, grabbing your hair and pulling it, making you arch your back.

He grabbed his tie, wrapping it around your neck and using it as a leash, pulling you back against him, his hand reaching down to your panties. His fingers gently rubbing over the wet fabric, a stark contrast to his rough grip on your neck.

"These are a little wet, my love," he teased, sliding a finger underneath the material, and running it along your slit.

"Shut up." You hissed, your legs shaking, and your pussy aching.

"What was that?" He growled, pulling the tie tighter, forcing your head back so it was resting on his chest. He looked down at your desperate expression, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen, and licked his lips.

He pushed you back down onto the bed, pressing your face into the mattress, and slid the panties off, tossing them aside. He let out a low, satisfied moan, as he got a view of your perfect, dripping cunt.

"Looks like I've found the perfect punishment," he purred, sliding his hands over your ass, squeezing the flesh.

He reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube. Then he flipped you over onto your back, and pulled you to the edge of the bed, and spread your legs, exposing your glistening pussy.

"You can beg all you want," he said, spreading the lube over his fingers. "But until I think you're sincere, I won't fuck your pretty little pussy."

"I hate you," you spat, as his fingers slid over your ass, coating it with lube.

"I love you, too," he replied, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

He pushed one finger into your tight asshole, making you gasp.

"Hmm, when was the last time I fucked this hole?" He asked, slowly pumping his finger in and out. "Must have been a few months ago, it's very tight."

"Please," you whimpered, as his fingers stretched your hole.

"You'll have to do better than that, darling," he purred, adding another finger, stretching your hole further. His hand came down hard and smacked your thigh, leaving a red handprint behind.

"Fuck you," you growled.

He chuckled, and pulled his fingers out, and lubed up his cock, stroking it.

"Oh, I plan on it."

He leaned down, and pushed the head of his cock into your ass, and then stopped, a smug smile on his face.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He said, his voice low and dangerous. "You wanted me to lose control, to fuck you like an animal."

You tried to wriggle free, but he had you pinned. He was stronger than you, and he knew it. He grabbed your throat and squeezed, cutting off your air.

"Well, here we are." He growled, pushing his cock deeper into your ass, until his balls were pressed against your skin.

He wound the tie around his fist, pulling it towards him, and used it as a leash, dragging your neck upwards, forcing you to look at where you were connected. His other hand reached down, and rubbed your clit, his thumb swirling around it.

"Please," you moaned, and his hand came down again, and smacked your pussy.

"What was that, darling?" He teased, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit, as his cock twitched in your ass.

"Please fuck me, I need you," you whimpered, your pussy throbbing.

He began to move his hips, the muscles in his stomach tensing as he pounded your ass.

"Such a good girl," he moaned, his hand coming up and smacking your face. "You're being such a good little whore, taking my cock in your ass."

You opened your mouth to say something, but his fingers slid into your mouth, causing you to gag and choke.

"Don't worry, I'm going to fuck that pretty little pussy soon," he moaned, his pace quickening, as his hips slapped against yours. "I could never deny my wife such pleasure."

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, and slid his hand down your body, his fingers dancing over your skin, and then slipping inside your cunt.

"Such a beautiful pussy." His voice was thick, and he licked his lips. "And it's all mine."

He was completely in control, and he was enjoying every second of it. The look on his face made you ache. He was so beautiful, and powerful and you loved it. Your whole world narrowed to the sensations his skilled fingers and his thick cock were drawing out of you.

He pulled on the tie, restricting your breathing, and the feeling sent a surge of arousal straight to your core. He pushed his fingers deep inside you and rubbed his palm against your clit, and you writhed beneath him, moaning and gasping. Elijah watched your every expression, pushing you right up to the edge of release and then he pulled away, leaving you glaring up at him in frustration.

"If you behaved tonight, I would let you cum," He cooed, before releasing the tie and sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching you with amusement.

"Now you will have to wait for my permission," He smirked. "Come and ride your husband's cock."

You glared at him, but obediently did what you were told, you were too pent up to not accept the compromise. You crawled up the bed, and straddled him. Elijah looked up at you with a smile, his dark eyes sparkling, the lines around his eyes deepening. His arms came around you and slid up your back as he kissed you, teasing your mouth with his tongue. You relaxed into him, and returned his passion, but he caught your hands before you could put them to good use.

"Turn around, my love. I want you to sit on my cock with that pretty ass of yours." He commanded.

You swallowed and nodded. You rotated yourself, placing your knees either side of his thighs, and rose up onto your knees. His large hands went to your ass, kneading the plump flesh, and spreading it wide. You lowered yourself carefully, moaning as his cock eased into your pussy. You sank all the way down, until your thighs were touching his, your soft rear pressed against his body.

Elijah groaned and his fingers dug in. You placed your hands on his thighs and began to rock your hips, sliding up and down his length, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. His cock filled you up perfectly, and you were soon riding him fast, desperately chasing the orgasm that he had denied you.

He watched the way you bounced, the way your ass cheeks jiggled, the way your wetness coated his cock, the way your body reacted to him. He was hypnotized, his eyes glued to your every movement. It was in these moments he couldn't believe you were actually his wife, that this wasn't a dream. He saw how much you wanted and needed him and it thrilled him beyond words.

It wasn't just the sex. It was the way you'd react to little things. How you would blush at even the smallest gestures, the way you gasped when his fingertips would graze the small of your back as he leaned in close, or the soft little moans you would make when he kissed and touched you, it made his heart ache with love and desire.

You were his drug and he was hopelessly addicted, the chase, the hunt, the thrill was not just pleasurable, it was sustenance. Every time he took you it made him a stronger, more confident, more capable man. And when you would moan his name? He was lost. Utterly lost.

His tie was still hanging off your neck, the fabric moving back and forth against your back with each movement. His fingers danced up your spine and he wrapped the tie around his fist and used it to pull you against his chest.

"Aren't you forgetting something," He grinned, licking the shell of your ear, making you shiver. "Don't I deserve an apology for your behavior from earlier?"

"Not a fucking chance," you hissed, and tried pull away but he pulled tighter and pushed deeper.

"Wrong answer." He chuckled darkly, letting go of the tie and pushing you forward with such force your hands came off his thighs and pressed into the bed, stopping yourself from falling face-first into the sheets. You looked back at him with a glare, but he just laughed and shook his head. His strong hands dug into your hips, and he began to thrust his hips hard, the smacks of his skin against yours echoing in the large bedroom. You reached back, needing to touch him, to get some purchase but he wasn't having it.

He could see that you were panting, trying desperately to stay afloat in the ocean of ecstasy he was drowning you in. But the real reward was listening to the desperate sounds escaping your mouth. You loved this, you wanted him to be rough with you and he decided to take it a step further.

Elijah let go of your hips and you immediately got off his lap and started to climb up the bed to escape but his reflexes were far better than yours. He yanked you back by your thighs and you kicked your legs to get free but that only served to egg him on.

"I've told you to behave." He warned in a low, seductive voice.

You felt the pull of his tie again, and he yanked you backwards, positioning you so that you were on all fours. You gasped as he pushed your knees together, then he slammed his cock inside you, the angle hitting a spot that made you see stars, his other hand wrapping the tie around his fist. He used the leverage to pound into you, the bed slamming against the wall, and the sounds of his groans making you clench around him.

"Elijah," you moaned his name, your hands fisting the sheets, you were almost there, you were so close to sweet release.

You knew this game very well and you played along perfectly, whimpering and mewling as his cock stroked every inch of you. Your sweet sounds fueling him as he continued to ravage your soft cunt.

"Such an insufferable tease." He groaned. He let go of the tie and tangled his fingers in your hair, pushing your head down into the mattress.

He was completely lost in the moment, his control completely shattered. Your words, and actions, had snapped the reins, and he was letting himself go, to his deepest, most primal, instincts. He gave your hair a hard tug, the way you liked, and your back arched involuntarily, causing him to pound into you even harder.

"That's right, beautiful wife," he cooed. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?"

You nodded, unable to form any words, your brain overwhelmed by the sensations. You could hardly breathe, your mind a clouded mess. He pulled you up, holding you by the jaw and pressing his fingers into your mouth, making you gag.

"Beg me," he snarled. "Beg me to let you cum."

You tried to form the words, but he was holding you so tightly, his cock thrusting into you so roughly, that all you could do was moan. Your eyes rolled back in your head, drool dribbling out of your mouth, the sounds of your garbled speech muffled by his fingers.

"That's it," he whispered, his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

His voice broke through the fog, and the moment his permission was given, you felt your body convulse, the intense pleasure coursing through your veins, sending you into an orgasm that was so powerful it made your limbs go numb. You collapsed forward, but Elijah held you upright. Your muscles had given out, the pleasure was so overwhelming that you couldn't even muster the energy to keep yourself propped up. All you could do was moan softly and let him continue to fuck you senseless.

He pulled his hand away from your mouth and grabbed your hips, pulling them back into his thrusts, using your spent body for his own pleasure. He was close, his movements becoming erratic, his hips snapping, his nails digging into your skin.

He let out a long, low, groan as his cock throbbed, filling you with his warm cum. He thrust a few more times, emptying himself inside you, and then slowly pulled out, letting you fall on to the bed.

He leaned over you, gently removing the tie and kissing along your spine, his hands softly rubbing the marks he had left on your body.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his tone soft.

"I'm ok" you sighed. "But my ass is not happy with you."

Elijah chucked and propped your hips up a little, licking a stripe from the cleft of your ass, all the way up to the back of your neck. You shivered, goosebumps erupting on your skin, you felt his hands on your hips and he quickly turned you over, making you squeak in surprise.

He kissed his way down your body, stopping to worship each of your breasts, and then moving down to your pussy. He spread your legs and ran his tongue over your slit, collecting his own cum that had begun to trickle out of you.

"Eli," you whined.

He hummed in response, and his tongue pushed deeper, lapping at your cunt, swirling around your sensitive clit. He was being gentle, his tongue teasing, his fingers rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hips.

You were perfect, his angel, his darling, his beautiful wife, and he had been so rough with you, he couldn't help but try and make up for it. He knew that you could take him, that you loved the rough sex as much as he did, but still, he always felt bad afterwards.

He could never stay rough for too long and tended to give into your soft whining, caresses and sweet kisses. It was why you were his wife, no one had the sort of power over him the way you did, and you both knew it. And there was truly nowhere else he would rather be, then between your legs.

He loved the feeling of your hands tugging on his hair, the way your thighs shook around his head, the way you clenched around his tongue, the sounds of your soft moans and whimpers. It was music to his ears, and he couldn't get enough of it.

"We taste like a dream," he murmured, licking his lips.

You chuckled, and then gasped when his tongue flicked over your clit, making your legs spasm.

"So sensitive," he purred, and then sucked the little bud between his lips, his fingers digging into your skin.

He could feel the pull of your hand, and he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, the pupils blown wide. He crawled over your body, and lowered his lips to yours, kissing you deeply.

You moaned softly, tasting the two of you together, and he groaned in response, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling at the strands.

"That's what we taste like, baby," he growled, his tongue plunging into your mouth. His lips wet and messy, his hands roaming over your body, his hips grinding against yours.

"It's so good, isn't it?"

"Yes," you gasped.

"I love it when you're covered in my cum," he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. "When your pretty little pussy is full of me, when I can smell myself all over you."

You bit your bottom lip, and let your eyes slide closed, taking in the scent of his skin, the feel of his lips, the way he was rocking against you. He was teasing you, and you wanted it, you wanted his cock to stretch and fill you again and again until you were delirious with pleasure. You'd never known someone who could turn you into this wreck so completely and efficiently, but here you were again.

"Stop talking," you whimpered, grabbing hold of his hair.

"Sorry baby." He mumbled against your throat, leaving open mouth kisses along your skin. "Are you ready for me to fuck you again, my gorgeous wife."

"Yes, fuck yes.." You moaned as you lifted your hips and wrapped your legs around him. He slowly pushed his cock back into your pussy, watching as you arched and moaned under him.

"Do you think I can fuck you till dawn?" He purred, pressing soft kisses against your neck. "You'd like that, wouldn't you baby, to be filled up all night?"

You hummed in response and he slowed down a bit, giving you deep, long slow strokes, taking his time, and enjoying the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him. He loved watching you come undone, to hear the moans and whimpers of delight fall from your lips, to know that it was because of him and only him.

This time he would make love to his wife, for however long she wanted, until morning if necessary. Because how could he not? When every look, every breath and every sound was the manifestation of a desperate plea, how was a husband to deny such a desire from a woman as beautiful, as delicate and yet as stubborn and as irresistible as you.

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