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nanamimizz · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓

tags: diluc birthday fic - fem reader, size difference, accidental creampie, temperature play, possessiveness, established relationship, the first time being intimate, marking, knight of favonius and cryo vision wielder reader. 6.k

synopsis: 𝐖𝐇𝚬𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝚶 𝐌𝚬𝚬𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝚶, 𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓 𝚶𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒.

You regret taking upon this assignment - more like a favor. The next time you see the blonde alchemist, you will freeze over all his ink pots. A small revenge for the suffering he put you through to head to his camp on Dragonspine for research notes he left behind. You sigh, tucking away the wind glider that you had used to descend the mountain, and think back to why you were sent - Klee is currently sick and has monopolized Albedo’s efforts, and you have always been weak to help the needy so you had readily agreed to the errand despite the blistering cold of the haunted mountain.

It seems your time under the tutelage of the Acting Grand Master has done you more harm than good.

Misfortune smiles upon you as you walk down the path that veers off the snowy side of the mountain, to the small river that leads onto the familiar view of tall grass and proud trees that decorate the land of the Anemo Archon. You are still shivering, and there is still some powdery snow on your hair that melts in the presence of the sun but as soon as you blink the sky darkens. You feel a small drip on the top of your head, and your shoulders drop in defeat as the scent of wet earth fills your nose and the sky is bloated black by the clouds - rainfall.

Just your luck, huh?

Your breath still mists over your lips and you shudder - fresh off the mountain and now getting soaked through by the rain a fog settles over your vision and you curse at how it blurs the sights together. Sucking on your teeth you ponder your options, it would be dangerous to use your wind glider now - you can’t see well, the mist of the mountain and the rain clouding what you can perceive even with your goggles. All you do is sigh and tug on your bootstraps, you are going to have to climb down the mountain.

It was easier than you expected if you discount the chattering of your teeth and the loss of feeling in your fingers despite your gloves. As you jump, climb, and trudge down the woods of Mondstadt you fail to notice that you have gone too far to the left of your map, and as you can begin to see the telltale sign of small, modest houses and crystal flies among grape vines; there is a flush that blooms across your face that isn’t from the nipping cold.

You’ve taken a big veer to the left and found yourself at Dawn Winery, subconsciously and purely by coincidence of course. A certain redhead flashes in your mind’s eye and you groan, bringing a hand up to your face in embarrassment. Even during your duties as a knight, your heart still leads you to the man you’ve recently started to court after having a harmless crush on him since his time in the Knights at the tender age of 14.

Lightning flashes, thunder booms, and the wind picks up whipping the hood of your outerwear back, you are so caught off guard you take a misstep sliding down the rocky side of the natural f formations of the mountain until you land at the base of the evergreen trees that reside on the paths that lead to the front door of the manor. It’s almost as if the Anemo Archon was pushing you toward the front door of the man you have loved since childhood. Picking yourself up, you swipe at the mud that mars your sleeves and trudge your way up the first paths that have turned into a mush of mud and rainwater. Arriving at the door you use the knocker, beating on the dark wood once and twice. You don’t have to wait for long when you see the familiar face of the head maid Adelinde, her blonde hair shines in the light of the lamp she holds in her hand. You wave timidly when she gasps your name, worry painting her face as she pulls you inside.

She’s rather strong for a maid, you think amused.

“What in the name of Barbatos were you doing out there?” She asks, lighting the fireplace in the drawing room and taking your outerwear away from you. You wince at how it drips onto the expensive wood flooring and how mud stains her sleeves. Your hair drips down your neck and you shiver, she hands you a towel - kept in the cabinet near the fireplace for emergencies at the table that is first seen when you enter through the front doors of the winery. She drags you to one of the fine chairs in front of the fire.

Before you could answer, a deep masculine voice rings from upstairs, calling out for Adelinde. Steps can be heard on the polished wood and you nervously tuck a stray hair behind your as the all too familiar scent of smokey wood and lampgrass fills your senses.

“Master Diluc, it seems we are having a special guest stay with us for the night.” The head maid says eyes flickering between the two of you as you squawk from your place in the chair. Diluc turns the corner, red eyes wide when he sees you, soaked through and shivering like a stray left in the rain. With the speed you’ve seen him exhibit in battle, he is by your side, his hand outreached to touch you before he freezes and drops his hand, still gloved by his side. Touching you so early into your budding relationship wouldn’t be proper - and Diluc is nothing but a gentleman first and foremost.

“What happened?” He unknowingly parrots Adeline from before and you shudder before answering him, tentatively looking up at his eyes that flicker like the flames in the fireplace.

“Master Albedo asked me to retrieve research notes he left on the mountains.” You confess and wince at the scoff that leaves your lover and quickly fill him in as to why you went,

“Klee is ill so Albedo couldn’t go - I agreed to go.”Your stammer, feeling hot as the stern look on his handsome face fades to worry, you can still catch a subtle “The Knights are incompetent as ever.”

“You still shouldn’t have been sent alone.” Diluc murmurs, eyes flicking away to the flames in the fireplace. He sighs and goes to remove a red palmed glove, you watch the small action with wide eyes and swallow when you see his hands - pale and scarred, faint red hair glows in the low light of the fire and he says your name softly.

“May I touch you? I can use my vision to warm you.” You nod, wetting your lips as his hand comes to rest on the side of your face, warm and gentle in the way his palm molds to hold the weight of your cheek - red eyes glint pleased by how your shoulders drop and your eyes flutter shut by the comfort his body heat gives you. He smiles, cheeks tinged pink when he hears the small sigh that you puff out.

“I’ll have Adeline run you a bath and set some clothes for you. Have you eaten yet?” Your eyes, cloudy and relaxed, meet his eyes and he feels his heart might burst at how you look at him so trustingly - you shake your head to show that no, you haven’t eaten yet.

“Some supper will be served for you then.” You think it’s from your long exposure to the elements but you usually would stammer and sputter at such treatment - telling him that he’s spoiling you too much but now you relax like the cat in the sun into the palm of his hand and let him do as he pleases.

“Send her to my quarters after her bath. We’ll eat there.” He instructs, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb into your cheek. Diluc’s blush darkens at the soft sound you make when he releases his hold on your face, he steps closer and your mind clouds as he becomes your world. He settles before you, tucking a stray hair from your face as he takes in your tattered form,

“It appears I’ll have to exchange some words with the Chief Alchemist. I can’t have him sending my love away on such dangerous tasks.” You wince at his words but your heart softens at the worry in his voice and the pet name he regards you with. Clearing your throat you try to soothe him,

“It’s alright Master Diluc - I should have been wiser and not agreed given the circumstances, the mountain has always been dangerous,” Your rambling is cut off by another pleased sound you make. He had momentarily moved away to remove the other remaining glove and pressed his now free hand to your forehead. Warm and dry, you feel the callouses from wielding the claymore against your skin but you could sigh at the touch. The hair there is still wet and you can feel how he gently tucks away the damp strands as he slowly increases the temperature on his hands to keep warming you up.

“It’s only Diluc when you refer to me, dearest.” He rumbles from his position in front of you - something sweet in his smile as he recounts a fond childhood memory.

“My mother would refer to my father as Master Crepus when she was cross with him so,” Red eyes as warm as the embers in the fireplace before you dance so joyfully and you can’t say if it is the fire that warms you from the inside out or by how Diluc speaks to you as softly as the bat of a crystalfly’s wings. You find that you can’t bear the weight of his loving eyes so you duck, tucking your head into your chest and letting your wet hair block your view.

“O-of course, Diluc - I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles at you, the name he is so proud of sounds so sweet coming from your lips and he can’t but give into his lesser nature and hurries for you to say it again. Pushing and tucking away the hair you used to hide your flustered state, the skin where his hand had rested almost aches from his presence,

“Say it again, say my name one more time.” He asks, and you concede with a shy smile - stuttering over the proud syllables of his name. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze, eyes wide and face hot. You hide your face with the back of your hand, from behind the fire cracks. Anything that Diluc wishes to say, from asking you to say his name again or a comment on how you can’t bear his gaze Adeline calls from the staircase - “The bath is prepared, please head this way.” She says, smiling kindly to you as you rise but not without reaching out to squeeze his hand once then twice.

“I’ll be back, okay?” You manage to squeak out - still timid but ever eager to be at his side. He smiles in that soft way where you can’t help but think he really hasn’t changed since he was a boy that would smile so freely. Adeline leads you to a much more private and grander bathroom than the one you have been directed to use before during your previous stays at the winery. The bathtub is filled with steaming, bubbly water, and the scent of flowers is heavy. Adeline instructs you to strip, turning for privacy and you tentatively begin to under the belts that keep up your trousers and armor.

You soon are undressed, and you are careful to submerge yourself as quickly as possible - clearing your throat timidly to allow Adelanine to turn over. The foamy surface of the bath allows you some privacy and the head maid smiles at you as gently as she usually does, collecting your muddy and soaking clothes into a wicker basket.

“I will set these aside to be washed in the morning - there will be a change of clothes brought to you when you are ready. The supper will be in the Master’s room as well.” She parts with those words and you don’t know if the heat you feel in your body is that of the bath or of the prospect of being in Diluc’s bedroom, alone with him. All the times you have spent with him were under the eyes of the staff - shared dinners and chess games, you playing the lute for him as he rested his eyes and listened lovingly. You don’t think that Diluc allows the staff into his room anymore, he is no longer a young lord that needs help being dressed so as you wash the mud and snow from your hair you can’t help but think of the private affair of dinner. Even the lovely scent of flower soaps and perfumes can keep your mind off it, you tilt your head back until it meets the rim of the tub.

You begin to observe the room around, all dark wood and gold - you see the engravings of grape veins and owls and it’s hard to not let your mind wander to your redhead lover. You blink once, then twice, and sigh from your heart as you think of his vermillion eyes and delicate touches. Your hand, silky from the soaps and still toppled with foam rests upon your chest where the heart lies and you feel its steady beat rising as you sink further and further into your thoughts of the only man you’ve loved your whole life. The sea of your thoughts and the satin water of the bath have become one - you don’t realize you are in a trance until there is a knock on the door. You call out to let the person in, thinking it to be the ever-so-helpful blonde maid, who holds you in high esteem for making her lord smile so sweetly and boyishly.

Instead, the one who peers through the door is the object of your affection - broad and towering from your position in the bath, holding onto delicate fresh clothes in his arms. Nothing is said as he finally catches wind of your position, dewy and slick with soap studs barely giving you any sort of decency of your more personal affairs. Wide eyes framed by dark lashes from the water gaze at him and if Diluc was a lesser man his resolve would have collapsed to bone and dust. He most certainly found you beautiful but here, served in the luxuries of his home Diluc can’t help but find you divine.

“I have brought you clothes, a nightgown, and something for extra warmth,” He said, eyes to the side as he could hear the splashing of the water - you were raising your arms to cover yourself. DIluc swallows around nothing and lowers his gaze to the corner of the bathroom.

“I apologize, I should have knocked.” He utters his voice uncharacteristically soft and he hopes his ears don’t match his hair. You tuck wet strands of hair behind your ear and shake your head even if he can’t see it.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” You say, and it is true. He is your lover. These types of things are bound to happen if your relationship is to continue. You eye the clothes in his hands and bite your lip as you confront the reality of the situation.

“Diluc,” You say his name, and something hot runs up his spine. You say his name so softly it is almost like prayer and he can not deny the pleasure of hearing it be sung too sweetly. “Could you help me out of the bath?”

He wonders if this is his last day on this earth. Diluc lets his eyes flicker to you - eyes bright and hopeful as you look up at him with all the adoration in the world. Clearing his throat he can’t help but think he will never be able to deny you anything if you look at him like that.

“Yes, if that is permissible by you.” He agrees and you smile from behind the water, directing him to where you had seen the towel that the maid who most likely planned this happening had set them. The towel was fluffy and white, encompassing his form as you slowly rose from the now tepid bath water - you saw how Diluc scrunched his eyes shut and tilted away his face until you were wrapped in the white fabric. Clearing your throat was the sign to let Diluc lift his head and you were so close you could see the soft pink flush on the tips of his ears. Nothing was said for a moment - the moment was too precious to spoil, Diluc thinks you must be something divinely made and you can’t seem to wrap your head around how safe he makes you feel.

Is this how the jovial city of Mondstat feels knowing such a gentleman guards her walls with the ferocity of The Four Winds?

“Get dressed when you are ready - the nightgown should fit you comfortably. I’ll wait outside to take you to my quarters.” Diluc explains, eyes on the floor to avoid staring at the exposed skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Your knuckles were wrapped in the fluff fabric of the towel - you brought one up to wipe at your lips as you nodded at him.

“I’ll be quick, promise.” The words are earnestly said, you mean them wholeheartedly and Diluc fights the urge to clutch at his chest when you speak to him in that way. In a manner that is too stiff but it’s all he can do he nods and departs from you only to bring his hand to his face and groan softly into the gloved palm. How cruel is it that you are so unfairly endearing - how is he supposed to be the gentleman he was raised to be when every action you take seems to erode his resolve?

You are quick to change - giving yourself only a moment to gaze at the ornate nightgown you have done. It was made of a nicer quality fabric than you owned, silken and white it shined in the candlelight and was tied in the front. It was a bit loose around the shoulders and dragged behind you a tat and you can only assume that this was meant for a taller and more mature woman than yourself. After hearing a knock at the door you hurry to dry your hair some more - only for it to still be wet, sticking to your neck. You go to the door and smile when you see Diluc, a flush to his cheeks and an uncharacteristic wide-eyed look on his face when he sees you like this - dressed in a pretty little fabric that does not hide any of the curves of your body the way your uniform armor does.

“Ah, do I look odd in this? I don’t really own anything of this sort of style - ah that’s not to say I’m not thankful! This is really pretty and it’s so soft on my skin-”

“You look wonderful in it.” Your rambling is cut off by his comment, there is something devoted in his voice that makes you timid. Face flushed from either the heat of the bath or from his praise you chose not to think of it, keeping your eyes on the dark wooden flooring and letting your hair fall into your face. Diluc can’t help but study you, a dangerous game and maybe it suits a man like him who has always invited danger into his life but right now you turn him into half of a beast and have a stumbling kitten. Lust is not a foreign concept to the Master of the House but it is one he had often thought he could without.

How foolish is the young Master? How foolish is Diluc, who ravaged the lands of Snezhnaya because the want in his chest told him to? Lust is passion, hatred is passion - Diluc though stoic and hard of face is still at the mercy of his passion. The heat of his vision pulses in time with the heat at his core; the one that makes his eyes linger on the swell of your chest for too long and it’s the same heat that makes him think of what your form would be like under his hard hands.

You, who is kind and loving, who loved Diluc when he was a boy barely capable of picking up the claymore at the shy age of 10, and that you love him now who is dressed in pristine whites and smell of cecilias - how could his passion try to keep itself away from you? As you walk next to him, your elbow crossed with his after Diluc had offered you his arm. You are in his private quarters sooner than you had believed and chills break onto your skin as the scent that always clings to his skin is doubled in the presence of the room. Lampgrass and smoke, grapes on the vine and pine - the smog of the scents are pleasurable as the hand he places on the small of your back to press you forward. The door shuts behind you and it does nothing to break you from your spell until you feel the breath of the one behind you, voice deep enough to be commanding; “Go sit down, the table is set.”

It makes you smile when you see the spread - Goulash, Northern Apple Stew, and Moon Pie are the main dishes. You tilt your head as you near the small table and you can see the smaller dishes that you have mentioned to him that you like. Mondstadt Hashbrowns, Satisfying Salad, and even Mint Jelly. Diluc comes up from behind and blushes when he catches your eye instead of focusing on pulling out a chair for you. He gestures to sit and you do, smiling in that all too delicate way you do when you feel spoiled.

It’s his favorite smile of yours - he hopes he can keep it on your face for as long as he lives.

“Here let me serve you,” He offers and you nod, watching how he passes you a dish of Goulash, a soup known for warming up those who have recently left the mountain of Dragonspine. It would make your tail wag if you had one as he cares for you and fills your plate as soon as it is empty. Dinner is filled with small moments that keep a smile on your face - wiping the sauce on your cheek and even taking your seat in one hand, tugging it closer to his side so your thighs brushed and pressed against one another. It’s almost romantic, here in the safety of the winery dining with him as you both discuss the simplest and most casual of topics that one only shares with their most loved ones.

You mentioned how the cecilia blooms seem to have doubled this season from the heavy rain and Diluc mentions being interested in a board game similar to chess from Inazuma named shogi. You take note to ask the traveler how to purchase a set and Diluc thinks of bringing you a bouquet of cecilias - the flower you love so much.

Dinner is over sooner than you’d like but your eyes are half-lidded, the exhaustion of your trip to the mountains and the warmth of the meal making you weary. He notices, laughing softly when he takes note of how you sway side to side in your seat. Faster than you can blink you find yourself whisked away until your back is against the plush mattress and a wine-red comforter is tucked to your chin. With lidded eyes, you realize that he isn’t joining you to bed and you say his name in a voice that is just a tad whiney though you will never admit it.

“Where are you going?” You say with something needy in your heart and Diluc who leans over you, red hair cascading like the waterfalls that litter the landscape of Liyue in the few times you’ve crossed through Stone Gate comes to mind. His face hovers over you, you can see the faintest blotches of freckles over the noble bridge of his nose and you see how the cupid’s bow of his top lip is the slightest bit uneven. He doesn’t quite smile, lips only twitching in a soft way that conveys his affection and his hand - he abandoned the gloves for the meal, comes to rest at your brow and his gaze turns soft like a cloud when he brushes your hair away.

“I’ll sleep in a guest room, you can take my bed.” He speaks softly as if his voice grows in volume in any way you would break in his hold. Your own hand goes to his fingers and palm molding into the grooves of his knuckles with your thumb rubbing at the bare skin. Your hands aren’t as soft but they dry and even at the tips of your fingers Diluc can feel their strength. The fire is dying but something is coming to life inside of you - it makes your heart ache as a new type of heat blooms in your stomach that does not come from any soup or hearty meal. The same heat that pours in Diluc’s vision, the same that fuels his passion, and the same that brings you to your knees.

“I’m still cold.” You say but your eyes say what your heart wants - “Don’t go, stay with me, don’t leave alone, I want you.”

“Oh?” Diluc speaks after a beat of silence, vermillion gaze ablaze with so many questions and you read them all. Your gentleman in red is installed to care for and protect the weak, the vulnerable, and the needy. You know what he wants to say - “Are you sure? When I start I won’t be able to stop.”

You’ve tilted your head, bringing his hand to your lips to press a kiss to the scared, rough palm. Strength pulses through each digit, much like your own and your eyes are like snowfall. All pure and gentle, he finds it hard to refute you; hard to leave you in bed all alone when you look at him with sweet eyes begging him to stay. How could he say no to you? How could he deny you what it is you desire when all this night he has been attending to your every whim?

His lips are on yours and his hand heads south, cradling your jaw in his vast palm he tastes of apple cider and you taste of mint jelly - his mouth turns ravenous as if it didn’t have its fill at the dinner table. Diluc is still not satiated, his tongue warm and silken in your mouth traces the grooves of your teeth and you sigh into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, blunt fingers curling into red tresses and you can’t help but tug the slightest bit. He groans softly at the slight sting and he finds himself tugging back the comforter until you are bare to him, your skin breaks into goosebumps at being exposed to the open air again.

Diluc pulls away for air and spit strings connect you two until they break, the drops dripping from your chin to your neck. The milk light of the moon breaks through the curtains and Dilu can’t help but give into his lesser nature to drink you greedily with his scarlet eyes. Your face is warm, your breath condensing into steam from the difference of temperatures and he can’t help but find it lewd.

“I suppose I will have to stay with you tonight, won’t I? I can’t have you going cold under my care.” His voice is deeper, ravaged by the lust in his veins and you nod letting your fingers curl into his fur-lined jacket. You nod, head spinning from a simple kiss and you return the gesture to his thumb that rests on your swollen lip.

“Take it off - take it all off and join me.” You mutter, voice sluggish and the flame of your lust turns your mind to mush. Diluc can’t help but laugh - utterly breathless and enchanted by you, his hands leave you to push away his jacket and as it falls to the floor you bring your own hands to his face to keep kissing him. You press your lips to him, to his chin and cheeks panting and mewling into the brief space shared between you both as he can’t help but tease you.

“Haven’t I spoiled you enough? Do you still want more?” You whine and shake your head, eyes hazy by your own inability to be suave and smooth when faced with the enormity of your wanting.

“More - please, please give me more M-mast-”

“Diluc. Say my name and my name alone, you’re my lover only.” He cuts off your begging with a tone that leaves no room for argument. You nod to him hastily, whining as he grabs your wrists in his own hands. You are lovely like this, panting and chest heaving. If he had better lighting he wonders if he could see the hearts in your eyes as he lets his hands go back to unbuttoning, unbuckling, and pushing away the clothes on his form. His vest, shirt, and tie have all been removed and his chest is bare to you - the sight of a thick, burly chest covered in a thin layer of red chest hair makes you moan. When morning comes you are sure to be embarrassed, ashamed of your wanton and lewd behavior but that can come in the light of dawn.

You’re fine with acting like a cheap whore rather than the refined knight everyone knows you as if it’s for Diluc and for Diluc alone.

Everything happens so fast it’s hard to keep up with - his hands are under the skirts of your nightgown, broad fingers meeting the sticky lips of your cunt and mewling under him when they run down the seam of the folds. Your slick sticks to his knuckles and he laughs breathlessly and without mirth when he tilts his head to get a good look at how you whine - bringing the back of your hand to cover your face that grows hot with your own desire. It feels like you are melting, the heat of his hands is nothing compared to the heat of his fingers that sneak their way into you. Index and middle fingers curl inside of you as his other hand curls around the one that lays helplessly amidst the plush pillows and blankets of his bed.

“So demure, so lovely - my sweet knight, how pretty you cling to me.” His face does not leave from above you, lips only a breath away as his words like candle wax, hot and cling to your ears. You brush your lips to his panting and hungry as you nod almost mindlessly only to jolt with a moan when you feel his thumb that was not idle begin to swipe at your flushed clit at the rhythm of your heart. Diluc can’t help himself, tilting his head as he ponders the matter of his mind letting his fingers search for what it is he seeks; hounds sniffing for the rabbit in the meadow. You squeal suddenly, your thighs threatening to shut when the blunt tip of his fingers meets the softer, tender spot of nerves on your upper walls. A flame dances in his eyes as he smiles - a cold and victorious as you moan his name again and again as you melt under him.

“I found something, didn’t I?” Diluc is not one to tease but he can’t help but to as your pleasure folds over his hands like syrup. The release of your cunt clings to his fingers like it too, tastes just as sweet. You are open now, wet and darling with the pretty nightgown he gave you rucked up to your stomach and he can see how you twitch for more. The hand that held yours goes to his belt and you mewl from his departure making something smug in him grow three times over. The ever-kind and independent knight you reduced to a spoiled soiled pet, you really are an endearing darling to have his own.

His own, the thought makes him sweeten, pressing a kiss to your pliant and drooling mouth as he frees his cock from the prison that is his trousers. His mouth hovers over your lips and he asks you with his cock pressed between your bodies. It drools onto your thigh as you look down at it, your head swimming as you think about how it will be inside you if you permit.

“Are you warm enough now?” Diluc asks - still playing the game from before and you shake your head reaching down with a blind hand to take the shaft of his cock in your grip.

“No - no I’m still cold, warm me up some more please.” You say and he groans as you squeeze your hand around him with your thumb coming to swipe at its ruddy head. He whispers to you a rugged and breathless “okay” and he slips inside you like you were made for him. Birds have wings, lions have claws and he has you; Diluc not once believed he would ever find completion in his life but now he feels inside of you when you squeeze around the thickness of his length.

Breath-like steam brushes past your face as his hand goes to grip the headboard with a fierceness you’ve only seen from him twice. You are panting, almost going cross-eyed at the stretch, the heat, and the fullness you are feeling. Beads of sweat fall down your back and wads of tears make their way to your eyes and down your cheeks as you begin to hiccup at the first, second, and third thrust he gives you. You moan his name, say it like it's the only word you know - the first one to grace your lips and shape with your tongue. It is what makes lust dance along his spine like lightning, how you squeeze and drip and moan; Diluc is helpless to you, growing more enraptured by your hedonistic beauty with each thrust he gives you.

His grip on the headboard tightens and he feels the wood splinter and smoke, steam rises from his back as he moves faster and faster. It’s almost like you are the metal in his workshop and Diluc the blacksmith; forging you into something new, something whole with the weight of his cock and the blistering heat of his lust. You come without warning - a surprised shout of half his name as you squeeze tight around his cock. The tightness is unexplained and it stops him from thrusting with a sudden washing tide of his own completion. A mix of your own slick and his spent spills from around the walls of your cunt that flutter around his flushed cock as you tremble in the aftershocks of your pleasure.

Dilcu only watches, mouth agape and wide eyes as he takes you in - soaking and sopping, moaning, and whining beneath him. Your cunt leaks, dripping down his balls with the milky white combined release of the two of you and he finds that it isn’t enough. No, he wants more, vermillion eyes drink in the patheticness of your state; the drool that makes your lips shine in the low light and the tremors in your chest. His mind is set in stone, cum still hot inside of you with his cock twitching that the idea of filling you again and again his hips roll back and then forward into you. Gasping, your hands that had hung limp and useless at your side come to clutch at his biceps leaving lines as red as his noble hair - you are helpless in his grasp just like the headboard that smokes from above you.

“Diluc - Diluc wait, too much, too much!” You want to gasp, you want to warn but all you can hear is the wet skin of your ass smacking against his pelvis and his grunts that echo in his room.

“I’m not warm enough, not yet.” You wither and collapse on your back letting go as he pleases moaning when you release in the back of your mind that the ache in your gut each time he fucks both his and your cum back into you. Your head tilts back, empty and so far gone all you can do is hang onto him as you take note of the small specks of melting ice that hangs above the headboard that he grips with all his might.

#lamb.writes #diluc smut #diluc x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader

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sunsetkerr · 6 months

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THE TRADE | s.kerr

summary: as your afl season ends, your contract is up- leaving you, the hottest player in the aflw, up for grabs.

pairing: aflw!reader x sam kerr

notes: part one here!

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samanthakerr20 the only time I will accept you not wearing a west coast guernsey is now ❤️❤️ so proud, go the crows!! ↳ yourinstagram screenshotting this and sending it to west coast right now

crowsaflw we love you #1 ↳ yourinstagram ❤️

user no because im so happy

user they need to resign her ↳ user shes a free agent, meaning whoever bids the most is most likely where she will go ↳ user she can't leave the crows 💔

alannakennedy casually winning flags ↳ yourinstagram its a constant tbh

alexchidiac10 loving the hat in the second pic ↳ yourinstagram its sam's dads 💪 ↳ samanthakerr20 roger was robbed

aflwupdates

liked by user, caitlinfoord and 7,281 others aflwupdates BREAKING NEWS: Adelaide Crows star, Y/N L/N, is officially a free agent. After winning her 3rd flag with the southern club, L/N's contract has not been renewed and she is rumoured to be looking for a new club. It is unknown whether Adelaide is negotiating a new contract with their star forward.

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user im losing it, she can't leave ↳ user I wouldn't be surprised, she doesn't live in Adelaide so it might be easier to go to a club closer to home ↳ user where does she live? ↳ user y/n has a home in perth with her wife sam and their daughter, but flies between perth, adelaide and london (where sam and y/n also have a house) for sam's football

caitlinfoord sick pic though @yourinstagram ↳ yourinstagram ffs caitlin ↳ user caitlin can't resist putting her foot in it 😭 ↳ yourinstagram literally this is my life, come get your dog please @mackenziearnold @alannakennedy

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, maryfowlerrr and 26,387 others yourinstagram in the off season we party (tillies style)

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mackenziearnold matildas 🤝 the crows ↳ yourinstagram party animals

user SAM AND Y/N HAVE MATCHING TATTOOS??? ↳ samanthakerr20 disgusting really

user seeing the girls let their hair down is so refreshing

user y/n looks in no condition to have caitlin foord on her shoulders, that is one expensive woman y/n- don't drop her please ↳ yourinstagram if I did it wouldn't be an accident

matildas see you at training tomorrow morning ladies!! ↳ maryfowlerrr I can't go out.. I'm sick

samanthakerr20 you little rager, you look so good in that shirt ↳ yourinstagram its 100% off (a sam kerr exclusive discount) ↳ samanthakerr20 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

user we are all freaking out about her trade and she's out here getting off her face with her wife's team mates 😭😭

crowsaflw

liked by yourinstagram, samanthakerr20 and 9,290 others crowsaflw it is with great sorrow we announce the departure of our superstar y/n l/n. five long years with the best, she will be missed on and off the field. truly a force to be reckoned with ❤️ we will miss you, forever our #1.

samanthakerr20

liked by yourinstagram, amysayer_ and 739,298 others samanthakerr20 she's off to continue to do great things ❤️ proud.

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user its so weird seeing them all lovey and not all I hate you ↳ yourinstagram dont worry its weird for me too

crowsaflw our girl! ↳ user but like.. not anymore... ↳ user too soon

kyracooneyx my lord and saviour ↳ charlotte_grant all hail mrs l/n-kerr

samanthakerr20 realising this photo kinda makes it look like you're dead xx ↳ yourinstagram sometimes when im with you I wish I was xxxxxx

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, aflw and 18,388 others yourinstagram the new diggs

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user STOP ITS OPTUS, SHE'S GONE TO WA

user omg shes going to west coast or freo

optusstadium so happy to have you!

samanthakerr20 who says diggs? ↳ yourinstagram literally shut the fuck up

mackenziearnold physically cannot sit still right now ↳ yourinstagram right now or ever?

user y/n literally tell us, tell us right now

westcoastaflw

liked by samanathakerr20, yourinstagram and 11,938 others westcoastaflw welcoming our new #1!! @yourinstagram blue and gold looks very good on you, don't you agree @samanthakerr20?

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samanthakerr20 DAMNNNNNN 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

samanthakerr20 can finally watch one of your games without wanting to vomit looking at your guernsey 🤤🤤🤤🤤 ↳ yourinstagram 💙💛

user I cannot breathe

user sam got what she wanted 😭😭 ↳ yourinstagram she always does unfortunately

roxykerr20 thank goodness we didn't invest in any crows merchandise 😂 ↳ yourinstagram you never would roxy 😌 I did this solely for you and roger ↳ samanthakerr20 I'll just jump off a cliff then x love you babe

#one shots . * • .#sam kerr one shot #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagine #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader

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kpopfanfictrash · 9 months

Text

Elemental (Teaser)

(NEW) Posting Date: September 28th, 11:00 AM (CST)

Genre: Second Chance / Magic!AU / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Length: One Shot

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by knowing you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed. Something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The one person making you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And just maybe, you find the constraints you place on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Author’s Note: Loosely inspired by the Seven MV. Songs to listen to: Dark Skies, A R I Z O N A; Fallingwater, Maggie Rogers; Cold Water, Justin Bieber; Hold Back the River, James Bay; Through Me (The Flood), Hozier

Estimated WC: 23K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,015

[ A/N: this is not the start of the story! There is a scene before this, but the teaser is starting here. ]

“Tell me again.” Seokjin sits at the table, spooning yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open an eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped beside him. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble, lifting your head. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be,” he counters, pointing his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away any time something bad happens.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” He lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you lower your head to rest on your arm. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, Seokjin’s spoon scrapes the bowl. Pushing back his chair, he heads towards the sink and turns on the faucet. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble and close your eyes.

Two days have passed since your decision to end your relationship, and it hasn’t gone great, to put things lightly. On Monday, you barely left your room as rain poured from the sky. When you did manage to turn on the TV, the weatherperson on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin came home from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped to stop the storm. You sagged in relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embrace their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he recently took over their magical consulting business. It pays well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and well, here you are. One of the few people in the city who don’t care if their roommate is an Elemental, so long as your rent is controlled.

Not that you’re in it for the discount. You truly don’t care, being an Elemental yourself. Seokjin’s laissez-faire attitude towards magic can be unnerving at times, though. You’ve lived your entire life under the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need to do is Google for examples and here Seokjin is, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your magic a month into being your roommate. Coming home early from a trip, he opened the door and stared, slack-jawed, while the dishes washed themselves in the sink. You looked up and swore, accidentally sending two dishes over the side.

Seokjin stared at the broken shards, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he called, heading into his room. After a minute, he poked his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… that’s a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand why you don’t use your magic but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until things like this happen and he’s once more at a loss.

“Listen.” Seokjin turns, shutting the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grip your coffee. “What now?”

He holds both hands in the air. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant learned life experience. Through mistakes.”

You grimace. “What there a question in all that rambling?”

“No question.” Seokjin gestures at the kitchen. “Just letting you know you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure things out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insisted. I really, really don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Hey.” Seokjin’s grin takes on a dark quality. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

Fighting a smile, you lean back in your chair. “Fair enough. But seriously, thank you,” you add, smile fading. “This will give me time to come up with a plan.”

Nodding again, Seokjin leans on his counter. Tracing the rim of his coffee, he glances down the hall, towards his third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you respond, automatic.

Seokjin pouts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time to work on my art.”

He shrugs. “Okay, maybe you did know. But seriously, why not?”

“Because, Seokjin.” Wearily, you exhale. “Every time I try and paint, I just feel this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I could freely express my magic but lately… everything feels wrong. Nothing works like it should.”

Seokjin looks thoughtful. “How long has this been happening?”

“I don’t know, a few months?”

He sips his coffee. “Around the time you started dating Jungkook.”

Blinking, you realize he’s right. That’s almost exactly when you began dating Jungkook. The block started soon after, right when you suppressed other parts of yourself. Those early days hurt too much to think about though, and so you block them out.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare. “Right now, what I need is to find a job. And earn money. Preferably, in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order reverses. I know a guy.”

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

#WOOHOO #BTS CONTINUES TO MAKE ME A FOOL #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts fic #bts au #Elemental

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homielander · 10 months

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my biggest pet peeve about the boys fandom discourse is everyone is very quick to point out how vought is an amalgamation of amazon and disney and every megacorp in one, but whenever it comes to this show's resolution (specifically regarding homelander), that awareness flies out the window and i'm forced to endure one take after another celebrating homelander's inevitable death because it will be a happy ending and fix every problem. discounting that this is a very emotionally motivated and punitive view of justice (would depowering him not be sufficient to keep him from harming others?) i feel like the show has gone to great lengths to spell out that homelander is a product of his environment... just another victim of vought's exploitation and callous disregard for human life.

this applies to other supes as well. annie's mom says outright that annie was injected with compound v in exchange for their hospital bills being covered, a-train didn't have a stable home life based on his account from s1 and it's likely a similar arrangement was worked out there, and iirc some vought promotional snippet mentioned that supersonic signed on to a supe team after vought paid for his rehab. after preying on vulnerable kids and families, vought flings them headfirst into missions even though they're not properly equipped to exercise their abilities and someone is accidentally killed (we've seen this happen with homelander, a-train, and crimson countess, to name a few). new supes realize the heroes they've idolized their whole lives are completely uncaring in the face of this violence. and even though substance use is widespread among supes, there don't seem to be any constructive efforts made to curb it because it succeeds in dulling any moral qualms they might have about vought's culture of casual violence (a-train is the only exception but that's because his substance use begins to impede his speed, thereby impacting the bottom line). and at the end of the day, all their transgressions are covered up by vought, which opens the door to all sorts of legal and psychological debts.

and anyone can preach about strength of character, but we know maeve suffered from this slow moral deterioration, and we were seeing it take place in real time with annie in season 1 (only maeve and hughie's interference stopped it). their best intentions did not matter! homelander is no different, except that his conditioning was far more severe (and admittedly he was less hesitant to abandon any notions of doing good when his status was threatened, but that's not at all surprising when you consider his upbringing).

the point is that vought enables and encourages supes to abuse regular people. that problem has never been exclusive to homelander. homelander is trying to subsume vought but it is an institution that existed before him and will persist after him. i guess it's not a surprise that so many people peddle homelander as the "real villain" considering we mostly experience events in the boys' pov but it does make most conversations about this show's endgame insufferable. god bless

#like the posts i saw while s3 was airing... some of u have lost the plot sorry #and tbf the show has gotten a lot shallower in its depiction of supes as it's gone on #anyway im rewatching s1 and having a lot of fun #homelander #the seven #the boys

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novasintheroom · 3 months

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038. Temperature

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.7k

♡ Warnings - none

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

“Do you think we would have been friends when we were younger?”

You glance down at your stomach where Vash is resting his head. He’s looking at you, sweet and gentle and just curious. Going back to the book in your hands, you say, “Probably not.”

Vash lets out a sputter. “What? Why not?”

“Because you were a kid for five years before you became a full-fledged adult, you freak.”

Now he laughs, reaching up to jostle your elbow. You whack his head with the book. “Knock it off!” You’re just getting to the good part!

He says ‘ow’ and rubs his head. “I mean if we were regular. You weren’t a normal kid either!”

“More normal than you. I had fifteen good years as a kid.”

He turns on his side, cheek pressing into your tummy now. It’s a blue day; clear and bright. Waiting for the worst of the heat to pass under this outcropping of rock must be driving him stir crazy. “C’mon, ______, do you think we’d be friends?”

You sigh loudly, placing a finger in your book and closing it. You give him a good look over. “Hm. If you were anything like you are now…maybe.” His brows rise, waiting for further enlightenment. “I was a quiet kid. Kept to myself most days, especially once we moved from Octovern to that Podunk town to help with their Plant.” You crack open your book again. “If you were as annoying as you are now, I’d probably be forced to be your friend.”

“’Cause I wouldn’t leave you alone!” He proclaims, and snatches the book from your hands. You yell out, sitting up and swiping for it. Vash is already scooting away on his butt. He’s grinning. “Now it makes sense! You’re my friend because you have to be!”

Your glare is half-formed in the baked heat. “Give it back, Vash, I don’t have the spoons to deal with your annoying energy right now.”

“Or what? You’ll not be my friend?”

“Worse, I’ll be your best friend. That means I have the right to beat you up.”

“Aw, you’re already that, though. Can’t you be just a bit scary?”

“I’ll show you - !” You lunge at him. He flings the book to the side as you both start wrestling on the sand. Granules fly, boots kick, and in a flash, Vash has you pinned to the ground with both hands behind your back.

“Say you’d be my friend! Say it!”

You growl and squirm to get free. “Never! I’d be your worst enemy! I’d put flies in your soup!”

Vash gasps. “Not the soup!” He huffs when you squirm again, your legs bending to kick him weakly in the back. “I’m not getting up ‘til you say we’d be friends!”

“You’re a bully and I hate you.” You grunt and shimmy under his hips. The sand is cool from the shade, but the effort to free yourself is draining with the desert’s temperature. “Vash, c’mon, get off!”

He leans down and says, voice low, “Not until you say it.”

You still at his tone. A little thrill goes up and down your back. Embarrassed at your body’s reaction, you shuffle more. “Why is this so important?! We’re friends now, idiot!”

“But do you think we’d be friends when we were kids?” He’s so nonchalant about it, it drives you crazy.

You yield. “Yes! You’d probably be my only friend and my best friend back then! Happy?”

Vash hums and gets off you. “Very.” He says, then reaches out a hand to help you up.

You groan from his weight finally going away. “You’re a menace,” you say, taking his hand and slowly sitting up. You crawl to your book – the pages are a little bent from how it landed – and give him a look. “I should fine you for this.”

He looks at the book sheepishly. “Can I get the librarian’s mercy discount?”

You only sigh and shake your head, leaning back on your pack and opening to the page you were rudely interrupted from. Before you can even get a word in, you feel Vash’s head back on your stomach. He gets comfortable, and grins cheekily up at you.

“So…are we still friends?”

You groan and thwack him with the book.

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #tristamp #writing #reader insert #self insert #vash x reader #nova writes #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #friendship

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huramuna · 5 months

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a maid's folly - chapter 6.

dark aemond x maid ofc minor aemond x floris baratheon work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

summary: a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

word count: 3.7k

girl.... it took a bit to get here but i hope its worth it - please let me know what you think

warnings: smut (details below cut), power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

oh to be in love - kate bush • mary on a cross - ghost

chapter specific warnings: violence, blood, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, virginity loss, biting

The next few weeks were good ones for Rosemary– the best ones since her mother passed. She fell into a quick companionship with Helaena, accepting her oddities as fun quirks, rather than bits of madness that everyone else seemed to discount them as.

Helaena was smarter than people gave her credit for. She was witty with a great sense of humor, often poking fun at courtiers and other denizens of the castle. She had a lot of inside knowledge on the gossip and going-ons of the Keep, as people weren't afraid to speak openly while she was in earshot, citing her as daft and not paying attention.

Rosemary and Helaena sat shoulder to shoulder on the settee near the window. It was open, a crisp breeze tousling their hair.

The princess had promoted Rosemary to her handmaiden, thus upgrading her wardrobe significantly. They matched now, as Rosemary wore light blue dresses, her hair down in a braid. Helaena usually leaned towards cooler colors, like flushed blues and light purples.

“I've heard that Floris is pitching a fit over the flowers chosen for the wedding,” Helaena chattered, pricking a needle into the fabric stretched over an embroidery hoop-- she was working on a depiction of a blue carpenter bee, “Mother told me she cried when the florist brought in white tulips instead of yellow.”

Rosemary snorted a small giggle, her hands tangled in Helaena's hair, defting the tresses into intricate braids, “And how has your brother taken all of this?”

Helaena was privy to Aemond and Rosemary's 'situation', whatever it may be– it was ill-defined at the moment. The corners of her eyes crinkled into a grin, “He is running Vhagar ragged with how much he flies her. Mother said that when Floris began to weep, he slipped out of the hall and was gone for four hours.”

“Yes, that sounds about right.” the maid hummed.

The weeks with Helaena had also proven fruitful for Aemond and Rosemary’s interactions– they were still few and far between, with Aemond expressing more restraint than he had before, but he visited Helaena’s chambers more often, citing brotherly love as his reasoning for his frequent social calls.

He entered that day as usual, his arms behind his back. His eye zeroed in on Rosemary, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. She wasn’t wearing her formless maid’s dresses any longer, as Helaena had her tailored for a few higher end pieces for her. They hugged her curves in the right places with a sweeping décolletage, exposing just the hinting swell of her chest, the light blue complimenting her complexion.

He had been visiting more lately, but the past few days had been taken up with frivolous wedding planning, and half a dozen flights on Vhagar.

“Brother, you’re staring.” Helaena murmured.

He became all too aware of his surroundings, his mouth slightly dry and his clothes all too tight. It took him a moment to regain his stoic self, “I am merely trying to see what you’re embroidering, dear sister,” he walked forward, nodding his head to Rosemary, “My lady.” he mustered a greeting.

“Your grace,” she hummed in response, tying off Helaena’s braids with a small leather cord, “Would you like for me to braid yours as well?” she said it ever so innocently, but she was goading him. They were in each other’s proximity more often than not lately, with Rosemary often watching him spar in the courtyard from the spectator’s eaves They had developed a back and forth banter— he tested her limits with his witty remarks, and she teased him endlessly until she was all but sure that he would need to relieve himself later. It was a fun game, their little verbal spars, but Rosemary wondered when it would become reality. A man could only be teased so long.

Aemond cleared his throat, “That won’t be necessary,” he glanced at her for a moment, his pupil blown wide. She knew she had him, hook, line and sinker.

“Rosemary, weren’t you going to go to the market today?” Helaena redirected the conversation, “I know you had a few things to pick up.”

The maid perked up, “Oh, yes— hm, I should get started now so mayhaps I’ll make it home before dark,” she squeezed Helaena’s shoulder affectionately, the princess leaning into her touch, “I will see you this evening, my lady,” she got up, smoothing out her dress, curtsying before Aemond, “My prince.”

“Hm.” he grunted, letting her walk past him.

She made a quick stop to her room, donning a cape jacket, her hands tying a ribboned, wide-brimmed sun hat to her head. Looping a bag around her shoulder, she set out to the corridors.

Rosemary walked with purpose, reciting her list, “Lavender oil, honey cakes, lilac and blue thread, rock salt, goat’s milk…” she had her head down, navigating the halls absentmindedly. She brushed shoulders with someone, caught off guard by an anguished gasp.

Stopping, she looked to see who she bumped, “My apologies,” Rosemary murmured, seeing that it was… Floris Baratheon. She recognized her from passing through Maegor’s Holdfast going to and from Helaena’s chambers, “My lady.”

Floris scoffed, “Yes, well, watch where you are going,” she looked Rosemary up and down, a flicker of something akin to recognition passing through her eye, “Ah, you’re the princess’ handmaiden, are you not?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I see,” she clicked her tongue, seemingly mulling over something in her head, “Where are you heading in such a hurry, then?”

“I have to pick up a few things from the markets, my lady— I wish to get back before it gets dark.”

Floris blinked slowly, her hands coming together, “Ah. The markets,” she repeated, “Enjoy your errands.”

Rosemary curtsied hurriedly, walking away. She had already wasted enough time dawdling.

The trip down to the market square was fairly uneventful— she managed to get lost once or thrice, still unfamiliar with the layout of the city; she had only visited through it once before arriving at the Keep.

She haggled with her fair share of merchants and most definitely overpaid for most things. It was a wonder that she managed to somehow haggle up the price.

The last thing she retrieved was the goat’s milk— it wasn’t to be drinken, but to be added to her and Helaena’s baths. Rosemary had fond memories of her mother drawing her a hot bath and pouring flower oils and goat or sheep’s milk into it, along with the chipped pieces of rock salt. It left her feeling soft and fresh and she wished to experience it once again.

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon. Helaena warned Rosemary to not be in King’s Landing at night and to always come back before the sun set.

Rosemary gnawed at her bottom lip as she tried to retrace her steps. She could see the Red Keep up on the hill, but when she tried to navigate there, she ended up being cut off by dead ends, empty alleys, and paths looming with unsavory characters.

She felt the bubble of panic rising in her chest, her thumb nail sinking into the soft of her palm. Her lip began to bleed from her incessant biting upon it in her anxiety driven state.

Turning down another alley, she was met with a dead end again. Tears pricked at her eyes, feeling frustrated and helpless— how idiotic could she be to get lost? She could see the Keep but couldn’t reach it.

Moving to retreat from the alley, she saw a hooded figure at the end of it, awaiting her. Her heart instantly jumped into her stomach and she froze. The dying light of the sun glinted off of something in its hand— a weapon.

The tears came in full force now as she dropped her bag, backing up further against the wall. The figure descended upon her, brandishing a knife. It was a man, stocky and older. His breath smelled of decay and rot— he was hissing at her, like some kind of animal.

Rosemary put her arms up to shield against the first swing, she had seen Aemond do something similar in his training sessions with Ser Criston– of course, he was a seasoned swordsman and usually swathed off an attack with a weapon, so this method was nowhere near as effective as he made it look— it ripped through the fabric of her dress, slicing against her arms. She whimpered in pain but shoved forward against him, knocking him off his balance. He kept up his garbled hissing, as if he was trying to say something.

“Take my bag— the money is in there, just l-leave me be!” Rosemary cried, kicking the bag towards him.

The man couldn’t look less interested as he regained his footing, coming in again for the second time. This attempt was fruitful as he knocked Rosemary to the ground— he was on top of her, slicing wildly, his mouth agape. He had no tongue. She tried to keep her arms up to stop him from hitting anything vital, the blade cutting through her skin like ribbons. She cried in pain, kicking and screaming, her blood trickling down onto her face, her dress.

Her life flashed before her eyes— her mother, Jeyne, Helaena, the children— Aemond.

Suddenly, the man was dead weight against her and the dangerous edge of a sword poked through the front of his skull, mere inches from Rosemary’s face.

It all felt like a haze, a blur. Was she already dead? She felt so cold, the rivulets of blood flowing across her skin feeling like shards of ice. Her vision closed and blackened around her.

The weight of the man was kicked off of her and then she was scooped up— she was no longer cold, but warm. She was warm, like in a goat’s milk and lavender oil bath, the steamy water enveloping her like a second skin. She had to be dead, surely.

“Rosemary,” a voice, familiar, murmured, “Stay awake. Fucking hell, I shouldn’t of let you go alone.”

She glanced up, her vision still muddied and red— her own blood had dripped into her eyes, stinging. But she realized who was holding her, the flash of a single violet eye burning through her. Aemond.

“Ae… mond,” she whispered.

“Don’t speak,” he grunted, “Just… stay awake, okay?”

She didn’t know how long it was until the air around her turned from the flowing outdoor air, to a dank and almost tepid air. It was dark now, flashes of torches dancing in her eyes.

Then she was set down— on something soft. It smelled like sandalwood and smoke. A bed. Aemond’s bed.

He sat next to her, bandaging her arms, “You did good putting your arms up,” he said, wrapping the soft, spongy cloth material taut around the worst of her wounds, “Where did you learn that?”

Rosemary blinked, “… been watching you spar… recently,” she responded softly, “I might’ve… picked up a thing or two.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. It made her chest feel aflutter. “Hm,” he mused, “I never saw you there but once.”

“I was hiding… didn’t wish to distract you.”

Aemond snorted then, rolling his eye, “Chin up,” his hand softly lifted up her head as he wiped a damp, lukewarm cloth over her face, cleansing the blood from her skin.

“How did you know?”

He made a small noise of discontentment, “You were bound to find yourself in trouble. I saw you overpay for all of your items today, far above market price,” he looked away for a moment, “I can’t say I expected this to happen. But it… was good I was there, I suppose.” the cloth eased over her eyes, helping her sight come back into focus.

She blinked profusely a few times, tears gathering at her waterline– not just from the irritation, but emotion. “... I don’t know what to say…”

Aemond put the cloth aside, “Usually, this is where one says ‘thank you’,” he chided, citing her taunt at him from a few weeks earlier, “How is the pain?”

Twisting her arms, she sucked in a breath of pain, “... hurts.”

“It will for a while and will likely scar. But, better a scar than your life,” he hummed, his hand flexing and relaxing absentmindedly, “I’ll bring you a salve for them so they won’t mar your skin as terribly.” his hand reached for hers, turning her palm up. He was gentle, his skin warm.

“... thank you,” she murmured, closing his hand between both of hers, wincing at bit at the movement. “I don’t understand… he didn’t want my money or items– he was actively trying to kill me. To just kill me.”

Aemond looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, his mouth wrought into a thin line, “King’s Landing is a dangerous place– the Red Keep even more so. I… will try to figure out what it was– mayhaps a purposeful attack.”

“Purposeful? Why would anyone want to kill me?”

“You are the princess’ handmaiden– you have eyes and ears into a lot of affairs in the Keep and perhaps you overheard something you shouldn’t have,” he let go of her hands for a moment, but not before rasping his thumb over her knuckles. He then began to pace. “Have you heard anything odd lately? Some conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to?”

Rosemary only now just saw how distraught Aemond looked– his hair was down completely, the leather tie used to pull it back to the nape of his neck gone, likely broken off. His hands were stained with blood, her blood, and the blood of her would-be killer. He looked a bit flushed, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his footfalls heavy and filled with emotion– not like his usual silent, detached movements.

“Aemond,” she murmured. He didn’t stop his pacing, muttering to himself, “Aemond. Aemond!” she raised her voice slightly, causing his head to snap towards her. “Please– we can worry about it all later, just… come here.”

He looked perplexed by her tone and loudness, but walked over anyway.

In turn, she reached over and took an extra dampened cloth, holding out her hand, “Let me help.” she asked.

He sat down next to her on the bed, the mattress dipping under him. He bobbed his knee incessantly as Rosemary took his hands and washed them of the grime and blood. His jaw was clenched, his muscles taut as if he wanted to spring into action or mayhaps run out of the room.

“Relax,” she grumbled, “I should be the one nervous, not you.”

“I am nervous– you… you were almost killed. I was almost too late, Rosemary,” he spoke, his voice breaking from its usual even tone into something soft and more raw, “What the fuck would we have done if you were… slaughtered by some ingrate? Helaena and the children– they would be heartbroken,” he took in a sharp breath, “... I would be… devastated as well.”

Rosemary stowed away the cloth, her hands not once leaving his. Slowly and cautiously, she intertwined their fingers. It was an intimate gesture, something soft and soothing. She could feel her heart catch in her throat, her ears burning. “Well, you weren’t too late, were you?” she whispered, her voice almost silent. She glanced up at him, those big brown eyes of hers piercing a hole right through him, right into his soul.

Untangling one hand from hers, his hand came beneath her chin, tilting it upward. “I might’ve burned this whole fucking city down if I was,” he murmured, leaning forward. They were so close, their lips ghosting over one another.

She felt the heat rise in her stomach, feelings jittering around against her ribcage like some of Helaena’s butterflies. Her eyes flicked to his lips, then back to his eye– she inhaled as she leaned in– and in turn, he did as well.

Their lips met– it was soft but intense all at once, the butterflies in her chest breaking free in a cacophony of emotion. It was chaste at first, their lips melding together like two puzzle pieces– before her lips parted slightly and she tilted forward more, her free hand coming up to his chest, but wavering. “C-can I touch you?” she asked, her words pressed against his mouth.

“Please– please touch me,” he practically pleaded, “I’ve waited so long.”

Her hand slid up his chest slowly, her brow knitting in discomfort as her wounds pressed against the bandages.

He took note of this, placing her hands on his hips and a likely more comfortable position for her.

She hummed contentedly as she leaned farther into him, her lips parting once more to accommodate his tongue slipping into her mouth. She needed more of him, pressing as close as she could. She wanted to crawl inside of his ribcage and live there. It was something of comfort.

“Lay down,” he said, breaking their intimate closeness for just a moment, earning a disappointed whimper from her. “I need to taste you.”

Rosemary swallowed heavily, nodding slowly. “I’ve– I’ve never… done this before,” she breathed, “I’m still a maiden.” she scooted back to lay on the soft pillows, looking down. Her dress was a torn mess.

“All the reason to go slow, little lamb,” he responded in turn, edging up the skirt of her dress, “Tell me to stop if you need to.”

Biting her lip, she nodded. The feather light touch of his hand on her leg made her shiver, a coil of warm settling in her core.

His hands, calloused and rough as they were, felt like smooth silk as they glided up her leg, bunching up her dress at her stomach. His fingers traced the stretch marks on her hips and thighs as if to commit them to memory. Aemond’s fingers hooked under her undergarments and slid them off– a wet strip of arousal prominently painted down the center of them. Grinning, he stowed them away in his pocket, “Hmm,” he hummed, using both hands to part her legs as if it were some great feat, like mounting a dragon or swinging a sword for the first time. “Beautiful.”

Rosemary felt her face go red as she looked down at him, his head between her legs. “Please.” she murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

She didn’t need to beg, not this time at least– he fulfilled her wish, licking a strip from the bottom of her parted folds up to her aching pearl, causing her to whimper. He was slow at first, eeking out every little sound he could out of her before beginning to feast, his tongue ringing circles around her sensitive bud, his hands gripping her thighs like he was a man staved, and she was his last meal before death.

Rosemary clutched the sheets, wanting to snap her legs close, but his strong grip kept them open– thank the Gods for that– the warmed coil inside of her slowly eking into a smolder. ‘A-Aemond, ah–” her first orgasm ripped through her like a bolt of lightning, her toes curling. Her legs wrapped around him as she clenched around nothing, whimpering his name like it was a prayer.

“That’s it,” he purred, “Bleating like a lamb for me– so soft, like I knew you’d be.”

She panted heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her death grip on his head weakened slightly, allowing him to slip from between her legs for just a moment.

“Let's get this dress off, hm? I want to see all of you.”

“If you undress, too– I won’t be the only one naked,” she grumbled.

He happily obliged, stripping his doublet and trousers and kicking them away, all too eager to get her out of her dress. His fingers deftly undid the buttons, slipping it off of her. A hand palmed one of her heavy breasts, rubbing a nipple between his fore and middle finger.

“Eyepatch,” she mewled between tiny moans, “Take it off.”

He was a bit more hesitant here– his thumb hooking under the strap. Pausing for a moment, he looked to Rosemary once more.

She was disheveled, her face flushed red, her hair coming out of her braid and flowing behind her in pale blonde tresses. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted ever so slightly. She wanted him, she wanted all of him– it was evident.

Foregoing any more doubt, he discarded the eyepatch, revealing his sapphire implant.

Her half lidded eyes grew into large saucers, her breath hitching in her throat. Rosemary didn’t say anything else, giving a hum of contentment before pulling him back onto the bed for another kiss.

“Beautiful,” she cooed between kisses.

It was enough to make Aemond blush– hiding his bashfulness by slipping his tongue back into her mouth, palming his cock in his fist. He swiped the head against her folds, gathering the slick and slowly sliding it in.

“Gods above,” he grit his teeth, “Fucking tight.” his lips pressed against her neck, he buried himself to the hilt in her, waiting for her approval.

“F-full,” she whimpered, needing a moment to adjust to his size and the overall new sensation, before she nodded for him to proceed.

He moved slowly again, starting at a measured, deliberate pace, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.

Soon enough, she relaxed into his rocking motions, beginning to enjoy it. His pace increased as he left red marks on her neck, sucking and bruising the delicate skin there. He wanted to be gentle– but he was still a dragon, and dragons were wholly possessive.

The room was filled with the sounds of her soft whimpering moans and his grunts– the symphony of skin slapping against skin.

Aemond clenched, feeling the tell-tale sensation that he was close, “F-fuck,” he groaned against her skin, teeth biting into her now, “My lamb– my pretty lamb– you should be my fucking wife. You’re mine, mine, m– fuck–” he stilled his movements as he spilled inside of her, his fingers gripping her hips like soft putty.

She clenched around him, feeling the warmth of his exertions spread through her. Sweat beaded at her forehead and chest as her hummingbird heart slowed down finally.

He didn’t pull out yet– rather, he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest, laying on his back now.

“Stay with me tonight– please. I wish to wake up next to you, if only this once.” he murmured, holding her close against his chest in his all encompassing hold.

“Of course, my dragon.”

taglist: @watercolorskyy @queen--kenobi @heartb8k2 @violetiss3lfish @toodlesxcuddles

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #the maid's folly #aemond x servant

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 4 days

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Prompt-ober 2023 – Mythology and chaste kiss

From the moment Harry first sees the block of marble, he knows what it’s meant to be. He gets it at a discount due to some flaws – not enough dark green striations to look intentional, too many to create a piece using only the pure white marble, a slight crack formed during transport from the quarry. None of them matter to Harry. Once he has it in place in his spartan studio, Harry works like a man possessed to bring his creation to life. His friends, well aware of how Harry gets when he’s sculpting, pop by to bring him food and drink and make him take breaks to sleep. He’s not sure what he’d do without them. Probably die from overwork and malnutrition. He’ll have to do something really nice for them once he’s finished his sculpture. It takes three months of solid, near round-the-clock work to chip the precious but unnecessary stone away from the form he can envision within. The time flies by. He knows he’s never seen the face he’s shaping before, but it seems so familiar to him. If he were to really think about it, he might be able to determine who he’d used as a reference for the chin or the nose or the lips. But looking at the features as they take form, he can’t imagine them any other way. He takes his time with the final polishing, ensuring the sheen and smoothness of the stone appears as perfect as he can make it. The sculpture’s skin almost glows – he’s gotten the translucent lustre just right. Harry stands back and takes in his finished work, removing his apron, pockets heavy with chisels, rasps and sanding paper, and dusting off his worn, ripped jeans. The figure is seated on an ornate throne, slouching the slightest bit and staring down its aquiline nose at some unseen supplicant. The face is beautiful, but there’s a cruelty to the arch of its brow and the twist of its full lips. Lush, wavy hair frames high cheekbones, leading down to a long neck and broad shoulders. The sculpture’s body is trim and firm, but the musculature isn’t overly defined. Seven dark green veins of varying sizes spiderweb across the figure’s torso and arms. Its feet are planted solidly on the plinth beneath it, arms loose but holding a sword across its lap – covered with carved, draping fabric for modesty, because Harry just couldn’t visualise the sculpture’s bits and, at a certain point, he'd felt decidedly perverted from his continued efforts to do so. He has always been told that his sculptures are full of vitality – that they look ready to step off their plinth and join the world of the living. But even he thinks he’s outdone himself this time. Harry decides to catch a few hours of sleep then give the sculpture one final go-over. Before he puts out the lights and leaves, he wanders over to stare at his creation, looking as an observer rather than the craftsman. He’d been so careful to touch the marble with his bare skin as little as possible, to prevent his skin oils from discolouring the stone. But, just this once, he allows himself to reach out and gently stroke the sculpture’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Cold and smooth. When Hermione had last popped in to make sure he was eating enough, she’d looked at his sculpture, raised her eyebrows, then looked at Harry and asked if he’d finally carved himself a Galatea. Harry had huffed a laugh – people had been making those sorts of comments to him for years at this point – and asked Hermione about her work at the library. But now, as he rests his hand against the figure’s cheek, he wonders if she’d noticed something he hadn’t. He’ll miss this project more than any other, once it’s sent to the gallery that displays his work. He leans in closer and presses his lips, feather-light, against the figure’s lips, thinking maybe… But he’s no Pygmalion, and the sculpture remains marble beneath his touch. Laughing a little at his fanciful actions, Harry finishes closing up his studio for the day and goes to rest. ──⚝── Hours later, with dawn’s first light illuminating the airborne dust in the studio and no one around to see, a marble finger twitches.

Part two can be read here.

#tomarrymort #harry potter #sculptor!harry #tom riddle #harrygmalion and galatom #harry gets his chisel all over tom's inanimate business

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supercap2319 · 4 months

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Killer frost male reader x ikaris fighting all over the city and I comes to a stop when ikaris flies over male reader while he is using his powers to make a one pathway and picks him up and drops them both into an ally and ikaris kisses him

Ikaris flew around the city of New York. Now that he was shunned by his own people, Ikaris had to do something to pass the time of his immortal life. He was a photographer under the alias of Ike Harris and lived a pretty normal life. Bleh. But with superheroes like the Avengers. Justice League. The Flash. Supergirl. There was no reason for Ikaris to get involved in mortal affairs. Until tonight.

He flew over a nearby bank, when the sound of an alarm caught his attention. From his vantage point up in the air, Ikaris could see that it was a metahuman stealing money from the bank.

Now, he normally didn't get involved in mortal affairs or problems, but tonight he felt like he should. He flew down for a better look to see it was the infamous Killer Frost. What's doing so far away from Central City? He's usually the Flash's problem, but tonight, he's Ikaris's.

"No honor amongst thieves? That's cold." Ikaris said. "Especially, with the holidays right around the corner."

Killer Frost turned around and gave him a cold smile. Literally. "And just who the hell are you, huh? A good Samaritan? An idiot in a navy jacket?"

"Actually, my friends call me Ikaris. So, let's just skip the theatrics and you just give back the money and turn yourself in. And we'll call it a night." Ikaris said.

"I've got a better idea." Ikaris watched as a mist of cold formed on Killer Frost's hands and raised them towards Ikaris. "How bout you leave, and I won't kill you slowly and painfully."

Ikaris smiled. "I'd love to see you try."

Killer Frost launched a bunch of icicle spears at the Eternal as Ikaris's eyes glowed gold, and he shot each of the attacks down with his optical lasers. Ikaris smiled at him. "I think you should give up now."

"Are you a discount Superman? Gender bender Supergirl? Though, you are much cuter than both of them combined.

"Better. An Eternal. Give up yet? And you think I'm cute?" Ikaris was shocked that the villain admitted that out loud.

"You are. And unfortunately, I don't have time to play with you right now." Ikaris watched as Killer Frost made an ice barrier between them that reached the ceiling. "See ya around, hero." He winked and Ikaris watched as he summoned an ice slide and he slid away.

Ikaris had to admire the young man's spirit. He was cocky and arrogant, but Ikaris liked that for some reason. He smiled and punched through the ice easily as he flew after him.

When Killer Frost realized that Ikaris was following him, he tried to blast him with his cry Oki Erickson powers of ice as ika weaved and dodged the attacks, before firing his lasers at the slide controlled by Frost, until it broke, and he fell towards the ground.

Ikaris quickly flew downward and caught the ice meta until they were in an alleyway. He looks up at Ikaris. "That was cold." He glared at Ikaris.

"It was." Ikaris agreed. "But so is this." He leaned down and captured his lips into a kiss.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #richard madden #Richard Madden x male reader #ikaris x reader #ikaris x male reader #mcu #eternals #killer frost #male reader killer Frost #the flash

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green-socks · 1 year

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Teenage Dream

Pairing: Willard Hewitt (2011 version) x f!reader

Summary: Moving back home turns out more exciting than you'd thought when you run into Willard, your crush from way back.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: rated M: car sex but not explicit, only mentioned. Aged up Willard so he's mid to late 20s in this!! They're at a bar but no one's actually drunk.

Notes: I don't know if anyone but me is into this but I just wanted to hear it for the boy. Give the boy a hand!! I love him so. Much love, as always, to @a-reader-and-a-writer for betaing and for putting up with my booty-calling ass at all times <3

If you've seen the video of Miles dancing to footloose while driving, that's 100% grown up Willard, just so you know.

Moving back to Bomont didn't feel nearly as bad as you once had thought it would. Getting out for a few years felt good, sure, and seeing more of the world even better. But now it just felt nice to return home and be closer to your family. Besides, your work allowed a remote position, so it didn't much matter where in the world you were as long as the job got done. And Bomont allegedly had great internet these days, so you figured why not.

Your friend Iris from school had also moved back two years ago, so you knew there was at least one good friend there waiting for you already. It would be nice to catch up with her and be closer again.

And what better way to catch up than go out to the closest bar (which was in the next town) where the clientele wasn't exclusively well over 55. It was a good bar. They had great cocktails and gave discounts to anyone who sang karaoke, so the people were generally in great spirits.

Around midnight, after a couple of drinks that provided an unnecessarily vivid throwback to your teenage years and a powerful duet of I Will Survive, you were on the hunt for some water.

Stumbling right into the solid chest of an actual tall drink of water wasn't on your mission plan but you were willing to roll with the punches. Only before you even had the chance to raise your head and see who the chest belonged to, the man happily shouted out your name.

"Wait– Willard?"

(It really shouldn't have surprised you that in this corner of the world you always had a chance of running into someone you knew.)

That face you recognized. That face hadn't changed basically at all in the nearly ten years that it had been since you last saw him. The rest of his body was what didn't compute. The Willard from school had been tall too, obviously, but also kind of lanky with long flailing limbs. The Willard in front of you now was huge, with broad, strong shoulders and biceps that– okay yeah you were staring. But seriously, that t-shirt had to be a size or two too small.

The man himself fortunately seemed oblivious to your gawking, and instead wrapped you in a quick but enthusiastic hug.

"Great to see you! I heard you were back but didn't expect to run into you just yet. What's it been, nearly ten years? Man, time flies," he prattled on, releasing you and looking you over as if he was cataloging if anything had changed.

"Good to see you too," you finally managed, looking up at him. "Yeah, I moved back just three days ago. But you never left, did you?"

"Hey, I went to college!" He pouted in mock offense. "But yeah, then I came straight back. Big cities freak me out." This time he pretends to shiver. "If I need to experience the wild world for a weekend I go stay with Rusty, but otherwise I'm good here."

"Oh, how is she doing? I haven't seen her in years either."

"She's doing great! She lives with her girlfriend Annie now, and they have a really cute dog," Willard said excitedly.

You knew that Rusty had a girlfriend through Iris who was the one in the loop for all gossip and followed everyone on social media, still keeping up with everything. You hadn't bothered with that so much, but it was still nice to hear these updates. You hadn't been that close with Willard or his gang, but you had some classes together and became friendly enough that way.

"How about you?" you asked. "You and Ren still going strong? Still do everything together?" You smiled a little teasingly because this one you already knew the answer to. You had heard that they had mostly taken over Ren's Uncle Wes's car shop, and apparently business was going so great people came there from out of town in search of better service.

"I accidentally put on his shirt tonight because our laundry keeps getting mixed up. Does that answer your question?" he deadpanned, making you laugh.

"That explains it. I thought your arms looked about ready to burst out of that shirt."

You immediately snapped your mouth shut, feeling embarrassed. Why would you point that out?? He brought up the shirt and your mind immediately went there again, but you didn't need to say it for crying out loud.

Thankfully Willard only laughed. "I know right? I don't understand how it keeps happening, it's not like we even have the same size most of the time. You should have seen one time I put on his sweatpants to run to the store, I thought I was gonna get arrested for public indecency or something!"

You choked a little bit on your water at that mental image.

"I'm sure the old ladies at the market were quite delighted," you chuckled.

Willard snorted. "Yeah, I got some looks alright, though I wasn't sure if they were into it or if they thought I needed Jesus."

The two of you continued catching up, moving farther to the edge of the dancefloor where you could talk without having to shout. You had no idea how much time had passed until Iris came to knock on your shoulder. After greeting Willard, she turned back to you, pulling you aside to talk a little more privately.

"How would you feel about me staying here in town for the night? We can totally head home together, but I have a chance to get laid if I stay here. Maybe you could get a ride with Willard?"

"You wanna go and have a sleepover with Alex?" you teased her. You knew Alex was her regular companion here, that she was kind of hoping would turn into something more, so you couldn't begrudge her.

"Could I?" she tried a half apologetic, half pleading smile. "You and Willard seem to be hitting it off." Her eyes were pointedly looking in the man's direction, who was still hovering a few feet behind you.

"Speaking of which. You didn't warn me he looks like that now!" you hissed. She was the one who was supposed to relay all the interesting knowledge to you!

"Well, I mean, he doesn't do anything for me. I didn't think it was important," she shrugged.

"But you know I was super into him in school, obviously he does it for me!"

"That was ages ago! I'm barely into people I liked two years ago let alone in school!"

"But it's Willard," you gesticulated broadly with your hands, hoping to emphasize the point.

"Alright, fine, I understand. But we're getting off track here." And with that Iris side-stepped you to talk to the man himself. "Hey Willard, could you take her home tonight? I'm staying in town, but I trust you to keep her safe," she smiled sweetly, playing all innocent.

You noted three things. One, she used the words take her home, and you were definitely going to kick her for that later. Two, Willard didn't even need to be buttered up, because of course he would help an old friend. And three, he honest to god puffed out his chest at Iris telling him he was trustworthy. Even tipped his hat, giving her his word that he'd take care of you.

Goodness gracious, you might not survive this night.

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble? And that you're good to drive?" you wanted to check.

"I've only had one beer tonight, I'm cool. And it's no trouble at all, I promise," he smiled.

With that, Iris took her leave, but not before giving you a hug, demanding you check in later, and threateningly muttering something about crushed testicles to Willard. He looked appropriately nauseated.

Clearing his throat a couple of times, Willard turned to you again. "Uh.. uhm, do you want to go home right now or, uh, do you wanna dance for a bit?"

"I could dance for a bit, yeah!" You were so proud of yourself for sounding totally cool and normal.

The dance floor was unfortunately packed because the night was at that point where everyone had had just the right amount of liquid courage to let loose.

But no one let loose like Willard.

You had never before danced with a guy, or anyone really, who was so willing to absolutely tear up the dance floor with no regard to how it looked. Of course, Willard looked fantastic – Ren was a great teacher after all – but more important was the fact that he was genuinely having fun with it.

It was infectious. Not just to you, but to the people around you as well, though it seemed Willard was unaware of the effect he had.

You were breathless with laughter, and sweaty as hell, but you didn't mind. That is until the song switched to something slower and sensual, and Willard held you so close you knew he could feel your sweat-soaked back. What had started as an overexaggerated "sexy" grind making you laugh wasn't that funny anymore. It had morphed from a joke into something actually hot, and you were breathless for a whole different reason.

Before you could get too in your head about it, the song changed again, this time to an upbeat rock song. You continued dancing, but the energy from before was gone and the crowd on the dancefloor was thinning, so you noticed another need taking over.

"I'm kind of hungry, would it be okay to leave now?" you asked, shouting up to Willard.

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

You wanted a burger. So that's what Willard got you.

The night air felt exceptionally lovely after the sweaty bar. You ate your burgers on the bed of Willard's truck, because he was surprisingly strict about not getting a mess inside the car.

On the drive home, you talked more about what both of you had been up to in the last almost decade, while still jamming along to the radio. There was no stopping Willard.

"In college Ren dragged me to cheerleading tryouts. He had that gymnastics background and thought it would be fun, but, honestly, back then I thought that cheer was just for girls. I obviously don't think that anymore." He rolled his eyes – you did too. "Anyway, I got sucked into it. Now I coach two teams, so that's a lot of my free time spent with that. It's gotten pretty popular in Bomont lately!" he gushed.

"I don't doubt that, with you coaching," you chuckled.

"What do you mean?" He glanced at you.

"You know, 'cause you're so likable. You're the kind of person who gets others excited too, and I'm sure you're a really great coach."

"Oh. Thanks."

Willard was trying to hide his smile, but there was no hiding that blush. You thought it looked adorable.

As the conversation went on, you moved from trading stories to light flirting and playful banter, the mood in the truck relaxed but cheerful. At one point you made Willard laugh so hard he had to pull over to an empty lot not too far from home to avoid crashing. After the last giggles subsided into quiet hiccups, you just continued talking. It took you nearly thirty minutes of conversation to realize that a) Willard never started the car again and you had just been standing still in that same spot where he pulled over, and b) you two had drifted closer to each other while talking, so much so that Willard's face was mere inches from yours.

Which made you realize your gaze kept dropping to his lips a whole lot. They just looked so.. kissable. You'd always thought so. His lips looked so soft and plump, his smiles so warm, that you desperately wanted to lean in and get a taste.

It was nearing two am but you were wide awake, nerves alight with excitement from Willard's proximity.

And unless you were much mistaken, his pupils were fairly dilated, looking at you just now.

"In my experience, if someone looks at your lips a lot it means they want to kiss you," Willard murmured quietly.

You couldn't even bother to pretend to be embarrassed about getting caught.

"Yeah, I think that's true," you breathed, looking into his eyes that were now boring into yours.

"Do you think it's true or is it true?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes, I want to kiss you."

"Oh thank god," Willard groaned and cupped your cheek, pulling you in the rest of the way.

2:24 am

"Should we stop? You said you don't want your truck to get messy," you panted.

"I've had a shift in priorities. I no longer give a shit about my truck," he murmured into your neck without even stopping the movement of his hips.

Your text to Iris at 2:59 am:

I may have just lived a teenage dream of mine and fucked Willard Hewitt in his truck. Now home ok. Talk tomorrow❤️

You fell asleep immediately, and let the responding reaction gifs and exclamation points be tomorrow's problem.

#willard hewitt #footloose 2011 #willard hewitt x reader #let's hear it for the boy #i accidentally wrote something #miles teller fic

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gttoomh · 6 months

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No More Distractions Part 2

Alright, here we go. I made a part 2. Honestly, this didn't end up going where I thought it would, but I'm not mad about it.

Let me know if you guys would be interested in part 3. I'm not sure where I'd go from here, so drop some ideas too. Lol.

Part 1

Agent Hill doesn’t take long to find me on the street. I have no doubt there’s some sort of tracking device on me. Shield provided everything I’m wearing, so it only seems natural. She gives me a disapproving look before cuffing my hands in front of me and leading me back to the jet. I smile the whole way there, not bothered that my actions could label me a traitor. I take my seat in the jet, leaning my head back against the wall, and close my eyes as I replay the last few hours in my head. It’s not until I hear the cocky tone of Tony Starks voice that I open them again. Scanning the group, I almost snort as my eyes land on a detained Loki, and a wide grin spreads across my face.

“Well, well, well. You know, if you wanted to see me again, all you had to do was ask. There was no reason to go and get yourself arrested.”

He scoffs at me, sending a sharp glare, but there’s amusement in his tone as he sits beside me.

“Silence yourself, pet.”

I snicker, crossing my legs, and purse my lips in a small smile.

“Yes sir.”

The rest of the so-called Avengers load onto the bus, Natasha taking the driver's seat as the others linger nearby, keeping an eye on the two of us. The first thirty minutes of the flight go by quickly. Stark and Rogers continue to send glances our way, muttering amongst themselves. I’m sure they’re gossiping, but I’m more focused on the god sitting next to me than them. He seems lost in thought, and I reach out with my mind, poking at his to see if he’ll let me in. He sends a glance my way, a small, almost unnoticeable quirk on his lips, before he pushes me out. I pout softly, huffing as I scrunch my nose. My tantrum is short-lived. In the next moment, a bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, making me jump. I quickly turn to Loki, sharing a look with him before I bubble out a laugh.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m moving to the other side of the jet. Good luck with that.”

He scowls at me, trying to grab onto my clothes to keep me from leaving, but misses me as I dart my way across the aisle. Stark and Rogers turn their attention to us, and the captain stares at my patron closely.

“What’s the matter? Scared of a little lightning.”

I almost cackle loudly, grinning at the god as he shifts uncomfortably; the two of us already know what’s coming.

“I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

I hum in amusement, shaking my head and wrapping my arms around the seat harness.

“You boys may want to hold on.”

The jet shakes violently as something lands on top of it. Stark puts on his mask, moving to the hatch, and opening it. The wind whips through the jet, and It only takes a second before a blonde man falls onto the opened door. The next moments are a blur. Before I know it, Loki is being ripped from his seat and practically thrown from the jet. Stark steps up to the door, Rogers not far behind him.

“Stark, we need a plan of attack!”

The man hesitates for a moment, glancing back at the captain.

“I have a plan. Attack.”

I blink as he flies off, disbelief on my face.

“Well, he really is a great team player, isn’t he.”

Rogers sighs heavily, glancing in my direction before pulling on a parachute. Natasha looks back at him from her seat, getting ready to turn the jet around to land.

“I’d sit this one out, cap. These guys come from legend. They’re basically gods.”

Steve grabs his shield, turning to walk towards the open hatch.

“There’s only one god, ma’am. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.”

He doesn’t hesitate, jumping from the jet in the next second. I frown, annoyed at how he practically discounted my religion and many others.

“That’s rude. I hope his chute messes up, and he hits a few trees on the way down.”

I hear Natasha chuckle from the front, and my ego gets a little boost from making her laugh.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes around thirty minutes for the three men to come crawling back with Loki in tow. They all look a little worse for wear, but I chuckle at Loki’s appearance. His clothes and hair are disheveled, with sticks and leaves sticking to him.

“Welcome back, dear. Did you enjoy your camping trip? I hope you had a nice boy's night out.”

He glares at me, huffing as he sits beside me again.

“Enough of your taunting, pet.”

I hum in amusement but say nothing else, instead using the rest of the trip to pick the bits and pieces from his hair and clothes. Thor gives me a confused look, not expecting his brother to let anyone so close to him, especially a mortal.

“Brother, who is this?”

Loki rolls his eyes, pursing his lips as he pushes my hands away.

“An annoying pest who doesn’t know the meaning of personal space.”

I fake gasp, holding my hand to my heart.

“I’m wounded! And here I was, thinking I’m your favorite devotee. How silly of me.”

The god of mischief hums in agreement, but I feel a reassuring presence in my mind. He’s purposefully being cold to me, not wanting to give the heroes any ammunition to use against him. Thor seems content with the answer and turns his attention elsewhere.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

My head falls back to lean over the chair I’m sitting in, boredom filling my mind. The moment we stepped off the ship, Loki and I were separated. He was escorted to some fancy prison cell while I was to attend the debriefing with the rest of the heroes. Fury was growing increasingly frustrated with me, wanting to know precisely everything that was said after my comm was destroyed. I groan loudly as he presses me for the millionth time.

“I already told you everything that happened!”

Fury clenches his fists, grinding his teeth as he takes a breath.

“We know there's more to it. We have the security footage. Hill, pull it up on the monitor.”

The agent does as she’s told, the moment playing for everyone to see. I see Loki’s scowling face… then a soft look… followed by amusement. I watch as he breaks my comm… and when the two of us move to the dance floor. At this moment, the silence in the room is broken; Thor almost runs up to me with a firm look. He grabs my shoulders, staring at me intently.

“How do you know this dance? Tell me! Did Loki teach it to you?”

I purse my lips, swallowing hard. Of course, he would be the one to recognize it. He’s the only one in the room that would.

“He did. He taught it to me a few years ago now.”

The confession only seems to spur him on, tightening his hold on me.

“Are you aware of the significance of it? Do you understand what it means?”

I wince and can only nod my head in response. Rogers moves quickly, pulling the god away from me.

“what‘s going on? Why is the dance important?”

Thor turns his attention to me, his look urging me to answer the question, and I sigh.

“It’s an Asgardian dance. It tells the story of two people forbidden from being together. That’s why there's never any touching. It signifies the distance between them.”

Thor narrows his eyes, clenching his fists.

“On Asgard, It’s almost only performed between two lovers as a sign of their devotion to one another. Loki would never have taught you the dance if he saw you as a devotee.”

I purse my lip, shifting uncomfortably under the heavy gaze of everyone in the room.

“That is… correct.”

Thor steps closer, looming over me with a dark expression, intent on finding the truth.

“Tell me. What exactly are you to my brother?”

I stare back at him, not flinching despite his attempts at intimidation.

“Alright, fine... I’m his wife.”

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#loki imagine #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #part 2 #gttoomh #romance #loki romance #the avengers

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juneknight · 10 months

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The bartender sets down a drink on the glossy wood of the bar, right beside the whiskey you’ve been sipping at for the last hour. You glance up, brows raised in question, and all the man does is smile enigmatically and nod his head towards the other side of the room.

“From the gentleman in the corner with the cap.”

You scowl and refuse to look. The drink is some fruity, colorful concoction—nothing like the serious whiskey on the rocks you are drinking. How bold was it for a man to send you a drink that you wasn't even one he knew you would drink? Then again, if the bartender’s description was accurate, you knew that this wasn’t just any man.

“You don’t like it?” a smooth voice asks as he takes a seat beside you, a respectable, non-threatening distance away while still close enough to speak over the sound of other patrons. With him comes the soft scent of leather, cologne. Masculine, but not overpowering. This isn’t a man who dabs on a Walmart discount aisle fragrance before he goes out, looking to attract women. This is a man who takes care of himself—and you are sure the women flock to him like flies to honey.

Women, but not you.

“Back again for more rejection, Jake?” You hold up your hand, the simple silver bands inlaid with diamonds on your third finger; the one that girls in grade school would say had a vein which led to the heart; as if all fucking veins did not lead back to the heart eventually. “Have you forgotten? I’m married.”

“I didn’t forget.” He reaches out and runs a finger through the condensation that has beaded on your glass, leading to the square paper napkin which has gone soggy: a testament to how long you have been sitting at that very bar, nursing that single drink. “It looks like your husband did, though. How late is he?”

#I"M WORKING ON SOMETHING #jake lockley x reader #WIP

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kulemiwrites · 15 days

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𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏| 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

Part: i of iii

Genre: Romance, Eventual Smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5.1k

Character(s): Akira Nishikiyama, fem!Reader

Warning: Do not read if the idea of an f/o having previous partners or you being the object of envy is upsetting to you. Also, this is not an established relationship fic. Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3

Nishikiyama is a regular at your club and he's quite popular amongst your coworkers. He tends to be at the center of all the hot gossip backstage and now, so are you. Word is, you're the latest notch on his bedpost and more than privy to his secret talent. Are the rumors true?

There were names that you became familiar with after spending any amount of time in the Kamurocho nightlife. Some were names of people to watch out for- bad news, dangerous, some of the last people in town you’d want to cross paths with. Some were known for simply throwing their weight around- flashing their cash, accompanied by muscle, having a pissy fit whenever they didn’t quite get their way. There were also the names of the guy or gal you went to when you really needed to know something or to have something done. Or perhaps they just had a bit of a… reputation– word got around about them. Depending on who you spoke to in town, Akira Nishikiyama could have fit into any one of those categories.

You’d never seen much of his violent side but you knew perfectly well how capable he was of it. He’d offered a hand to security once when a customer got a tad too “friendly” with you. He never quite threw a tantrum but he wasn’t above spilling a wad of cash on the podium to get ahead of the line when there was a wait. However, there was one thing you couldn’t deny without a shadow of a doubt: Nishikiyama had quite the reputation.

He wasn’t the most popular with men from what you could tell. Even the men he’d come into the club with seemed to give him a bit of a hard time. Sometimes he seemed to take it in stride. Other times, through the fury in his sharp brown glare you could see that there seemed to be a silent promise of a brawl outside once the session was over.

The women however, fell over themselves to get to him. You couldn’t say that you didn’t see the appeal. He was handsome– beyond handsome, sometimes when you sat with him and watched him lower his defenses enough to smile and laugh, he was quite beautiful even. His hair had more volume than some of the girls in the dressing room. He was no slouch either. Every single one of his suits were designer– you didn’t know which designers but after being in this business for long enough, you could tell the difference between a tailored, brand name suit and a shoddy, discount shop suit trying to pass itself off as one. There was never even a speck of dirt on his shiny leather shoes.

And he always smelled absolutely divine-- Fresh. Woody. Something, something, sensual masculinity. You didn’t know the right words but it alone was captivating. Even you could find yourself lost in that aroma and unconsciously bow over hoping for more.

There was a draw to him.

However, it wasn’t just his good looks that had the girls dying to swarm him like flies to honey. He had charm, too. It was hard to miss, especially when he routinely surrounded himself with charmless buffoons.

He stood out and he made it seem effortless.

Nishikiyama had been your regular for a year, at least. Perhaps you’d been seeing him for longer but you only decided to start paying attention to how often he would request you when your coworkers began to complain. When he first began visiting the club, infrequently, every couple months or so, he’d take any girl he’d been sat with but after seeing you a few times, he seemed to increase his visits– how often he saw you.

He’d begun to show up about once or twice a week, each time with a different ensemble of men in his entourage– familiar faces but never quite the exact same group. If he was the first to arrive, which he typically was, you were requested. He’d take no one else. It mattered none to him that you were busy. If he couldn’t bri– pay to have you reassigned from whoever you were serving originally, he’d take a placeholder and wait until you were available. Either way, he’d see you before the night was over.

He wasn’t the most patient about it but still, he’d wait, craning his neck around the room until you made your way over to him.

This behavior of his had begun to cause a bit of a stir in the dressing room and in the beginning you’d done your best to ignore it but you were now at your wits end.

There were…rumors about Akira Nishikiyama and many of them circulated in the dressing room then made their way out into the streets of Kamurocho. Then, vice versa. It wasn’t as if you wanted to hear them. You never even asked but the information always managed to find its way to you somehow; be it an overheard conversation or someone giddily whispering over your shoulder what they’d just “found out”. In their minds, they thought it to be vital information for you.

After all, you were allegedly Nishikiyama’s “favorite”.

Some of the rumors were silly, nothing that anyone should have bothered to concern themselves with. Things like: A friend of a friend had given him her number and he’d never called her! What a jerk, right? Or, he’d dated some college girl a few summers ago and then suddenly broke it off and ever since she’d been telling everyone that she wants him back. Whose business was that anyway? Then, there were other things you would hear, that, even though you pretended not to care, it did perk your ears juuust a little.

There was a hostess that used to work with you a couple months ago who quit- reasons unknown. Word in the dressing room was that they had a bit of a “thing” together– a one night stand. She wouldn’t stop bringing it up whenever he showed up and requested you instead of her. Essentially, every time he showed up... You supposed it was meant to make you jealous but in reality, it only made you question why he’d go after such a bratty girl to begin with.

You questioned his taste, sure, but, jealous? Of course not.

You had another coworker who alleged to have hooked up with him too but she’d only mentioned it once or twice after going out drinking with the others after work. The rest did the legwork for her.

At the risk of making the man sound a tad promiscuous, there were quite a few different stories going around about him. All from different women. And although the stories all started differently, they typically ended the same way: Nishikiyama-kun went down on me and gave me the best orgasm of my life.

Again, it wasn’t as if you wanted to know these things but hearing that same conclusion time and time again did make you slightly curious. You had to admit. Could he really be that good? Then, you’d mentally kick yourself anytime you found the thought circulating in your mind. He was your regular– you shouldn’t be entertaining such thoughts even in absolute jest.

One had to maintain a level of professionalism here.

His notoriety amongst the ladies and his proclivity for you, though, had begun to make work a little unbearable. Where you once fell under the radar, you were now under the spotlight– right there with Nishikiyama and his wagging tongue. The gossip had gone from simply being about him and various faceless women in town to being about you, specifically.

And so, you became an object of resentment and envy.

In their minds, if you’d been hooking up with the man after hours, why not just come clean like the others? Also, you were raking it in when he stopped by! That had to go against some sort of guideline. You had to answer to managers on multiple occasions that, no, you were not having casual sex with a customer and yes, you did understand that went against club policy. The ladies couldn’t understand why the hell he would be giving you so much attention if you weren’t selling the goods on the side. You knew deep down the managers didn’t really care as it was bringing in a hefty, steady flow of cash but they were posturing to keep the others happy.

You got it from both ends and it pissed you off immensely because there wasn’t the slightest bit of truth to any of it.

In fact, the infamous “Nishikiyama-kun~” hadn’t come on to you once since he’d started requesting you all that time ago. Things were no different with him than they were with the rest of your customers and you were sure that your coworkers knew that as they tended to stand around and seethe and stare as you worked if they weren’t paired off with you.

You were the friendly hostess– the one that customers could count on to help cheer them up after a rough day. The listening ear, the shoulder to cry on. You were the one who lifted their spirits and made them laugh. That was your role. You weren’t quite equipped to play the seductress that they were all accusing you of being. Whenever your clients had their moods lifted high enough and were leaning in for something a little more playful, or romantic in nature, you called in reinforcements.

Even so, he’d always seemed to go at your pace. Never once have you ever had to pass him off to someone else and it sort of begged the question: What gives? If he was such a casanova picking up girls here and over yonder, why the hell hasn’t he ever tried anything with you? Were you not his type or something? It wasn’t as if you wanted him to hit on you– Gosh, anything but! But…

Well, you’d at least like the courtesy of shooting him down.

After everything you’d heard about the guy from the others, you thought, well, it’d just be polite!

“______!” the floor manager shouted your name, startling you as you reapplied your lipstick in the mirror.

The crimson had smeared past your lip line and down your chin. You looked up at him, making cold eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. You could see him biting back a smile as he pressed his palms together.

“Yeah?”

“One of your regulars is here to see you,” he said.

You cleaned the smeared lipstick, continuing to look up at him. “Alright, who is it?” But you didn’t really need to ask, you had a hunch.

“Nishikiyama-sama.” he said curtly.

“I see.” you said, fixing the neckline of your dress. “Let him know I’ll be out in a bit.”

The man bowed, “Of course.”

The woman at the vanity next to yours, a veteran at the club, shot you a dirty look. “‘Of course’.” she echoed.

You were so exhausted with the catty attitudes but you tried to at least respect the hierarchy of the place, as much as it pained you. So, you lifted yourself from the stool to excuse yourself and meet with your client. Before turning, you scanned your vanity for things that he’d previously gifted you with and decided on wearing them instead. So, you swapped the emerald and gold necklace for the pearl pendant he’d brought you last week. You spritzed yourself with the perfume from last month and slipped on the bracelet from the beginning of it all. You passed over your reflection one last time before heading toward the velvet curtains.

Perhaps it was a little embarrassing to say but Nishiki felt at home whenever he’d come to this place. The drinks were a bit watered down and overpriced but the food wasn’t bad and the service was phenomenal. He didn’t always feel that way though. In fact, it took more than a few tries to get it right and usually, he gave up on a place when it failed to satisfy him the first time. After all, every 10 paces, there’s another hostess club with the same damn drink menu with the same damn food with the same damn tropes of women to pawn off to the men willing to waste their time and money.

But not every single one of those clubs had a girl like you in it.

To say you were cute would have been an absolute understatement but that wasn’t what kept him coming back. Kamurocho was the land of beautiful women. It was the way you did your job. You suspected that he had money– he saw you size him up when you first greeted him but you never tried to upsell him on anything. If you were attracted to him, he sure as hell couldn’t tell. You never pushed yourself up on him or puffed out your chest, grabbed onto him or played in his hair like the treatment he’s used to at these sorts of places. You simply filled his drink, kept him company and looked absolutely stunning doing it.

Sometimes, you helped him relax– other times, you were the reason that he couldn’t but he’d never let you see him sweat…

Sure, he did have nights when he wanted to go out and have a cute girl go all out flirting with him every once in a while but he had other places for that. This place was where he went to take it easy or schmooze or both and he’d sing its praises (and yours) to anyone that’d listen. Hence why he brought so many people here– that and, he did have days where… and he couldn’t explain it but he just had a strong desire to hear your voice and see you, admire your smile and laugh, eyes and when you wouldn’t notice, your figure.

Tonight was one of those nights, the desire to just have you near him was so unbelievably strong but he feared his party this evening wasn’t the most hometrained. They just might’ve blown his cover if he wasn’t careful enough.

He sat back against the teal, chenille banquette, arms stretched along the back while his right leg crossed loosely over the left, foot rocking above his knee. He’d been smirking as his two old buddies from middle school debated inappropriately about what they would and wouldn’t do in bed. He reached forward and grabbed his lit cigarette from the ashtray as the conversation pivoted to oral sex. These guys were absolute goobers with no game at all. He hoped they’d stop by the time the girls arrived to keep them company or else they’d just start telling on themselves.

This should be good. He thought, right eye narrowing a bit as he softly hollowed his cheeks on inhale.

“I just don’t get how guys can stomach it for that long. A couple of licks and I’m over it.” his buddy Miura with a wife and two kids said.

Muira was a loyal friend but he wasn’t so much as a husband and to hear he was also a selfish lover, Nishiki could see why things turned out the way they did. He released his smoke and chuckled.

“‘A couple licks’?” he repeated incredulously.

His other friend, Takagi, folded his arm over his rounded belly and smiled proudly, “I do just enough to get ‘em wet then I stick it in.”

Nishiki’s eyes widened. He shook his head as he rubbed at his bottom lip with his cigarette wielding hand. “You guys are horrific. I don’t even want to imagine the horror stories those poor girls are going back and telling their friends about you.”

Miura clicked his tongue, “Who cares what stories they tell. I know what really happened!”

Nishiki raised a brow at his friend and teased, “What, that you didn’t make them cum?”

“That’s not true!” the man denied, his face quickly growing red. “I’ve made loads of ladies cum! I always make them cum! Every single one of them!”

“Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Two Licks I’m Out.” Nishiki laughed.

Takagi rested his arms on his knees and stared at their friend with a look of concern. “Say, Miura, why you making it sound like you get so much pussy or somethin’ anyway? I’m really thinkin’ of tellin’ your wife at this point. I mean, think of the kids.”

“She’s the one that started screwin’ that damn rice farmer!”

“Awww.” Nishiki and Takagi said in false sympathy. Muira had long forgotten he’d drunkenly admitted to his wife finding out about his regular cheating and agreeing to stay together for the sake of the kids but she would be stepping out in the meantime. Neither of them felt bad for him.

Great friend, horrible husband.

Your voice, as lovely as the last he’d heard it– two nights ago to be exact, cut into his banter with his friends and he tried to make sure he wasn’t too responsive when he turned to meet it. He was glad you didn’t have a stethoscope attached to his chest or otherwise you’d hear his heart playing blast beats.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” you chirped, your hands clasped in between your thighs as you bowed deeply.

You were wearing that cute, knee length dress you’d just bought last week. He remembered you being so excited about it when you described it to him. He was subtle about his eyes when they scanned you from top to bottom before you swiped your pretty, manicured hands beneath your perfect ass to pull your dress taut before taking your usual seat beside him. He softly took his bottom lip in between his teeth and tilted his head to the side as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Fuck, you looked amazing tonight. You looked amazing every night but tonight you had a certain glow about you. He could just eat you up…

Figuratively, of course.

“It’s alright.” he said, finally releasing his lip and noting that a couple of unfortunate girls have paired off with his friends. “You’re a popular girl. That’s what I get for going after the best in the house, right?”

You gave him a polite smile and fumbled with your hands which were still in your lap as your eyes darted in between your coworkers. You’d never gone for flattery but usually you’d at least brush him off with a laugh. Instead, he sensed tension and this wasn’t the first time.

He removed his arms from behind the booth, positioning his clasped hands into the lap of his spread legs. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it just that he was compelled to do it.

“So, Nish–”

“By the way–”

You both spoke, interrupting one another. You giggled, so precious, then offered him the floor. Nishiki searched your face before leaning in, you smelled amazing. Familiar. He knew that he’d smelled this scent before but this wasn’t what you typically smelled like. At least, he didn’t remember you smelling like this the other night. He should have remembered. When did you change perfumes? Wait, was this the one he’d gotten you and if so, why did it smell better now than when he smelled it at the store?

“Nishikiyama-san?” you said, when he continued to subtly hover over to you saying nothing. “Are you okay?”

Shit. He needed to get himself together. He was better than this.

“Sorry, I just noticed that you…” he mumbled, rubbing the tip of his nose as he realized he was at risk of losing his ‘flying under the radar’ game with a comment like this. “smell different.”

He watched you beam as you tucked your chin into your shoulder, bringing your manicured fingers to your chest, “You noticed! I didn’t think you would.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” he asked, folding his arms across his own chest playfully. You were the only damn girl in the place he paid any attention to. He’d notice if you plucked/waxed your eyebrows, if you dyed your hair or even if the color painted on your fucking toes was different since he’d last saw you.

You were his favorite.

You teased your hair, eyes dancing between his, “I don’t know. Most guys give us gifts and don’t remember that they’ve given them to us. Some people give gifts just to win favor or out of feelings of obligation– Or shut certain people up.”

Your voice lowered, and you rocked yourself in his direction to whisper that last part. He laughed. He usually hated workplace gossip when he went to these places but he’d listen to you tell him who was getting new tatami mats for their house if that’s what you had on your chest that day.

Speaking of chests, it wasn’t lost on him that your neckline was sort of plunging. You’d had some of the most gorgeous skin that he’d ever seen, amongst other things– except, he’s not supposed to be seeing it. If he’d been playing this properly, you had no inkling that he was even into you. There’d be no reason for you to suspect that the reason that the sweat beading around his hairline had likely come from the stress of avoiding any undue glances at the valley of your breasts and not the heat of the building.

“You think I don’t notice things, huh?”

He lost.

He snuck a peek but it was perfect– as were you, by the way.

“I got you that necklace, didn’t I?” he asked rhetorically, eyeing the necklace and absolutely nothing else. “Let’s see…”

You hid your folded hands in your lap once again and he reached delicately for the decorated forearm.

“That bracelet….”

You gasped dramatically.

“C’mon, I point that out every time you wear it…” he said, attempting to fight off the sheepish feeling that had been creeping up on him. “The perfume is new, though.”

“That’s because I wore it for the first time just for you tonight.”

His heart skipped a couple of beats and his ears rang. He had to look away. He didn’t really care where his gaze fell but he wanted to make sure he appeared as disinterested as possible. Fuck. The room was spinning, though. He scanned his friends who had long since forgotten his existence just as he’d forgotten theirs. He half rolled his head to crack his neck then stretched his arms back out onto the booth as he called to his friends.

“Miura, Takagi. We’ve been sitting here a while.” he said. “I say we order something.”

“You're paying right, Nishikiyama?” Miura laughed then tapped his hostess with his elbow. “Sweetheart, bring me the most expensive shit you got!”

When he looked at you, you went into your default, robotic menu presentation. He hated doing what he’d just done but he was never sure what to make of the things you said. He was sure you said sweet things like that to any man that came in and gave you gifts. You weren’t the only one he’d given a gift to either but you were the only one that made him feel things when he saw them again– the only one he put thought into while shopping for.

He lowered the menu in your hands and smiled, “You know what I like. Take care of me, yeah?”

You nodded, then turned to raise your hand to call over a server.

Nishiki pulled open the pocket of his maroon jacket to retrieve his pack of cigarettes and lighter then watched as you placed his usual order. He should’ve waited to let you light it for him but he’d gone into a trance. Even when doing something as simple as asking for liquor and greasy food, you looked like a divine being. Simply otherworldly. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off and had been off for some time now.

He blew out a puff of smoke that obscured his view of your side profile and once you were facing him again, it cleared and he could see it clear as day.

There was a crack in your transcendence.

What were you in need of?

How could he relieve you?

—

The usual 90 minute session plus extra hour extension that Nishiki tended to get with you flew by as it always did. His friends had left 30 minutes earlier- Miura, to get back to the wife and kids and Takagi to not risk cutting it close for the last train of the evening. So, there was no longer any need for the other two hostesses that accompanied you during the session. That just left him to spend the remainder of the time alone with you but he had no complaints about that.

He contemplated all evening when or even if, he should bring it up especially since he wasn’t certain at the time. Now that there was no one left but the two of you, it was clear as day. When your coworkers were there, you seemed quite anxious. You seemed to go into a quiet panic when he’d say certain things to you, too– which were never bad but if he had to wager, you must have been worried about them being taken out of context. Now that the girls were gone, you seemed calmer albeit still a bit tense.

He couldn’t just leave it alone.

He wasn’t sure what was going on but he suspected this place had much to do with it. He’d whisk you away if he could, even if only for one night.

“Say,” he said, placing his empty, sweating glass onto the table of chaos. “Where do you take up after hours anyway?”

Your confused expression was one of your cutest ones but he was sure his question was quite clear. You could fool anyone else but he wouldn’t let you try it with him.

“You’ve told me about your hobbies and stuff but you’ve never really told me what you like to do after work. How do you unwind?”

“Uh…” you trailed off and nothing else followed.

You shared a lot about yourself but there tended to be many things that you seemed to prefer to keep private. He wanted to know as much as there was to know about you. He wished that you would become an open book and show him all of your pages, even the unrefined, ripped and scratched out ones that you hid from everyone else.

“Don’t tell me you go home and do nothing?” he teased. “You know, your coworkers go out to hit the bars and clubs right after their shifts are done.”

You stared at him in silence for a moment too long then muttered, “Of course you would know.” as you looked away.

Something in that expression worried him. This time, he couldn’t even hide it if he wanted to. He felt his brows twitch together as he turned toward you on the banquette, resting his forearms on his knees. What the fuck has he done now?

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged, rolling your fingers over your thumb appearing indifferent. “I’ve heard about you…”

Oh. That. He could almost laugh but he didn’t.

He had been your regular for a year and 4 months, occasional client a couple times before that and this is only now coming up? It made his lips curl, his ears perk and his mouth salivate. What was it to you anyway?

What, did you want to know if the rumors were true too?

“Yeah?” he tried his best to contain his smile and so, he licked his lips instead. “And? Tell me… What am I famous for?”

He wanted so badly to tease you for the way your eyes popped then averted. He could feel the heat rising from you just from where he sat. Anywhere else, he might’ve given you a really hard time. But you were working, after all and he wasn’t sure if you realized it but, you two seemingly had an audience of employees pretending to be busy.

“The girls say that you’ve invited them out to hook up and never call them back or something.”

Or something, but something told him you knew the whole story. Cute.

“That’s the scoop, huh? So, I’m a hostess hopper, then?” He tightened his lips as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Alright, well. Do you want the truth or a lie?”

You scrunched your nose up at him, “I don't care to know your business but if I did, obviously I’d want the truth. What kind of question is that?”

His eyes scanned the room, noting your coworkers staring not-so-subtly as he rubbed his back against the teal seating, “I did recognize at least two girls here that I’ve been with before.”

“‘At least’?”

He nodded, tilting his head as he looked at you with a tired expression. “The thing is though, I didn’t realize they worked here until after it happened. It’s not as if I found them here and asked them out– They just so happened to be where I was. We talked. One thing lead to another–”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, letting him know that he was giving more information than you needed and wanted. “I think I get the jist. I know how hook-ups work, Nishikiyama-san.”

Nishiki straightened his posture and looked you square in the eye. “Just know that I never met them here and invited them out anywhere.”

“You know, Nishikiyama-san, I’m not sure that I really care all that much…” you said scratching your temple. “I’m not even sure why you’re telling me this.”

He had a buzz that helped him gather the confidence to do what he was about to do but he could feel it leaving him as soon his heart began to pound against his chest again.

“Because I want you to understand the difference when I tell you that I won’t pressure you, but if you’re looking for a change of pace once you’re done for the night…” he began, reaching into his wallet to retrieve a business card with an address, number and someone else’s name on it. “I recommend this bar. It’s run by a friend of mine. It’s a really nice place to unwind– never gets crowded. I’ll be headed there some time after this.”

He handed you the card and when you grabbed the other end of it, he continued to hold his end as he scanned your face. “This is what it looks like when I actually invite someone out.”

“Um,” you started. “I’m not promising that I’ll be there but–”

You’re nervous and you’re questioning his intentions. He can see it in your eyes.

“Excuse me sir but your session extension has expired.” a server interrupted but Nishiki ignored him. This was far more important.

“You’ll think about it?” he asked, finally releasing the card with a hopeful smile.

You smiled one final time before standing up out of your seat to do your session closing. “I’ll think about it.”

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and nodded. “That’s all a guy could hope for.”

Part 2

~𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗~

#akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader #boy oh boy am i rusty #i have been fighting for my life with this fic LMAO #this one isn't meant to be deep or anything- it's just lighthearted fun! with a hint of work stress #bc i love writing about my faves saving me from work stress #fun fact: this fic happened due to my intentions of rewriting of a one paragraph smutty headcanon #that literally no one but me was meant to see LMAOOO WELP the rewrite got outta control now here we are #also- if you read kuro shiro you might notice a thing or two<3 im a sloot for referencing my own work kjdhfshf #it's all connected~

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temis-de-leon · 1 month

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I just finished playing Hogwarts Legacy and I could write a whole dissertation, but I'll just stick to the basics:

Mid.

It's enjoyable, sure, and time flies when you play, but only as long as you play just the main story. After that, you can only fight meaningless enemies and do the same five minigames over and over and over again.

I didn't want it to be perfect, that would be unrealistic, but something else. Being a Harry Potter fan, for better or worse, I liked the easter eggs, the nods, the designs... (the devs really liked Alfonso Cuarón's PoA, as they should) and the general vibe.

However, once you "finish" the game, you're left incomplete.

There were no house points, no quidditch, no intimacy levels with your friends (I'm not talking about romance, which is another thing, just friendship), only one class per subject and everything is so repetitive.

What bothered me the most was the lack of emotion. The MC, as well as the rest of the characters, could be talking about a tragic death and their face would be completely neutral. I mean, you're arguing with your friend about murder and the only thing you do is move your hands and squint your eyes a little (also, the NPCs barely address you outside the quests, so you can say farewell once you finish the main plot).

Again, I enjoyed it, but I only bought it because Nintendo had post-Christmas discounts.

Suffice to say, this is my opinion.

On the other hand, I spent half of my playthrough dressed as Mr. Darcy, so that was fun.

AND BY THE WAY

You can pet dozens of cats, but not the creatures you rescue?!

You're telling me I have a hippogriff (amongst many other things) looking at me with loving eyes and the only thing I can do is brush her hair from a distance to get materials and upgrade my clothes??

Offensive.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #thoughts #opinion #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #ominis gaunt #harry potter #hogwarts legacy mc

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stuckybangs · 10 months

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Hello everyone. This is Mod Jules, and I'm glad to say that I will be handing over the reins to the Stucky Big Bang to a capable and passionate group! It's been a blast and I want to thank everyone or their support and understanding. I'll still be around on twitter, and may continue to update/post fics, so feel free to say hi/message me. Wishing you all the best.

A note from the new mod team: Thank you to the participants of the 2022 round of Stucky Big Bang. Please find all their amazing works collated below. Information about the 2024 Stucky Big Bang will be available soon. We hope to see many of you in the next round!

it's not the end of the world (but you can see it from here) [Teen, 11/11, 56k] written by @abovethesmokestacks art by ABrighterDarkness (@alwaysabrighterdarkness)

He opens his mouth, tries to explain, to tell him. Nothing comes out. Bucky looks at him. An unforgiving hand wraps around his throat and squeezes tight. Steve wakes with a start, and his hand flies first to his throat, then to his chest, to feel the strong beat of his heart. Outside, Brooklyn is a sea of neon, a pulse that is syncopated, uneasy. Nightclub beats and horror screams, all of life’s pleasure and the barrel of a gun where you never hear your death coming for you.

Need to Know [Teen, 10/10, 25k] written by @leavinghopeao3 art by @rufferto9

Haunted by memories and driven by instinct, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson discover the truth about the disappearance of Steve Rogers.

5 Times the Avengers caught a glimpse of the man behind the mantle… + 1 time they saw too much [Mature, 2/6, 2k] | WIP written by @mslaevateinn art by @reebmiester

The general public often doesn’t know how to differentiate between someone and their personna. They think they know celebrities. Aware that Steve isn’t the person described in books after a few years spent working with the man, the Avengers thought they had figured him out. But the man is full of surprises and they may just discover they don’t know their leader so well after all.

Burning Eyes Like Stars [Teen, 2/?, 6.5k] | WIP written by gingertintedglasses (@murderonthemattress) art by @koreanrage

Steve is tasked with training a three headed dog, that isn't exactly a dog, for a man who isn't exactly a man. But he'll get his mother back. Sam knows better. So does Carol. Steve can't turn away from his one chance to have his mother back, or the lure of the being who offered him the opportunity. A magical realism Stucky fic, loosely based on the myth of Hades and Persephone.

Happy Accidents [Explicit, 11/11, 32k] written by @controlofwhatido art by @Auntiesuze

Bucky sleeps with one superhero one time and now he’s pregnant. Fuck. Good going, James B. Barnes. One unmated omega father, coming right up. Top that off with his metal arm and he’s really going to be an outcast.

I Will Hold You [Mature, 1/4, 1k] | WIP written by @ralsbecket art by @VexedBeverage

Kissing Steve tasted like tears and cheap wine, and even though he shouldn't, Bucky just wanted to hold him and piece him back together.

rough edges [Mature, 6/6, 33k] written by @sparkagrace art by @burnin-brighter

Olympic ice dancers Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have never gotten along. Closeted Steve is in a showmance with his partner Maria as America’s sweethearts, while Bucky and Natasha are the lethal Russian pair whose technical mastery on ice is unrivaled. Now they will all be traveling around America on the Stars on Ice tour for the next two months, which sets Steve on edge in ways he didn’t quite expect.

Hair today, gone tomorrow [Explicit, 1/1, 20k] written by @neonbat666 art by @mxaether

Steve loses a bet that makes him question his choice of friends. Full-body hair removal, and considering he's a decently hairy guy, he isn't looking forward to it. His roommate refers him to someone he goes to so it isn't like Steve has to worry about it being weird. Right? He even gets a discount for letting the guy record the session for training purposes, which yeah, kind of freaks him out, but he doesn't want to break the bank fulfilling Sam's sadistic bet either.

Private Dancer, Public Shame [Explicit, 1/1, 10k] written by @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy art by HeyBoy

Bucky Barnes has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember, but Steve Rogers can be a little clueless. He can also shake his booty like no one else. When they spend a night out at a local karaoke bar, Steve’s dancing convinces Bucky he needs to finally confess how he feels. It’s too bad he does it in the most inopportune way.

I Will Hold You Forever [Gen, 1/2, 6k] WIP written by @elemental1025 art by @rufferto9

Steve has a plan, sort of. It involves a ring and a question. But a big purple alien tries to get in the way. Steve doesn’t like bullies though, so that won’t stop him for long.

Whatever Tomorrow Brings [M, 2/?, 14.7k] | WIP written by @mariknickerbocker art by @burnin-brighter

He’d thought he’d seen everything in his near-century of life, but this, this shit took the cake. Aliens he could handle; that wasn’t the problem. The problem he was having was this farce of bringing Captain America back from the dead. He didn’t have many memories of his life before Hydra and the Red Room, but he did remember that the Sentinel of Liberty had been worth more than just a PR stunt to some people. The fact that SHIELD would stoop so low was infuriating. Not that he really cared, he left the agency years ago, and Barnes no longer had a dog in this fight. Or at least that’s what he thought.

better to speak or die [Mature, 14/14, 69k] written by emilywithoutY / @between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place art by @VexedBeverage

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile. The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Roger’s movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable. But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop. Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

Thanks for the memories [Gen, 1/1, 11k] written by @hkandi art by @rufferto9

When Bucky was captured by HYDRA in Italy, he was given a full dose of the serum, not a partial. He’s nowhere to be found when Steve rescues everyone from that base, though Steve’s gut says his best friend is still alive, somewhere, somehow. As he and the Howling Commandos move through Europe, word surfaces of a lone HYDRA soldier stalking the allied forces, a lone soldier dressed in black and with unheard of strength. Unheard of, other than for their own Captain. But as Bucky, now the Winter Soldier, turns his attention to following Steve’s group, memories come back to his mind, and a face is far too familiar. What does this mean for Bucky, and can Steve figure it out in time to try to help him?

The Same River, Twice [Gen, 1/1, 4.8k] written by @burberrycanary art by Amoneth

Steve had meant to stay forever and didn’t last a year. He meant to return right back to when he left, but that doesn’t work out the way he planned either. Turns out a lot can happen in nine months. — Steve didn’t need his first month back to make him aware of just how many degrees forgiveness comes in, but some lessons feel new each time. Getting a text from Sam asking him to Delacroix for the weekend feels like one tick closer and Steve’ll take it. He’s texting back when Sam adds, Bucky will be there. And Steve? Steve’ll take that, too. A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky Endgame fix-it where a lot needs fixing.

#stuckybb2022 #masterlist #stevebucky #stucky big bang #stucky fic #steve x bucky

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