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julietsbody · 3 months

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divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along.

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!!

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure.

and he stuck true to that, until you came.

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there.

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car.

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.”

he hesitates for a second, “hi.”

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater.

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?”

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way.

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father.

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them.

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?”

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church.

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him.

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision.

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?”

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow.

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?”

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more.

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up.

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying.

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep.

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper.

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear.

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him.

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does.

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger.

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret.

but he was here, and so, he prayed.

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room.

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy.

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more.

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers.

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.”

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.”

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises?

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him.

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you.

is it so cruel to only tease him harder?

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.”

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow.

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew.

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things.

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind.

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?”

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips.

on reaching the place,

he said to them, “pray that you

will not fall into temptation.”

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs.

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced.

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?”

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you.

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together.

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales.

“i’m not doing anything, luke.”

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.”

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church.

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.”

“why don’t you show it to me?”

absolution;

formal release from guilt,

obligation, or punishment.

or..

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry.

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read.

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping.

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l.

“tell me what you want.”

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course.

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh.

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation.

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight.

“you’re so big,” is all you can manage out.

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?”

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.”

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you.

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate.

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts.

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible.

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips.

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.”

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas.

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now.

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on.

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.”

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kurogxrix · 11 months

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4 Minutes

Dad!Mob!Bucky Barnes x Mom!reader

IN WHICH you and Bucky had limited time to spend intimately during the past few days, leaving you both extremely sexually frustrated. When your son’s occupation offers you 4 minutes of free time, Bucky’s damn adamant on making your legs shake in less than 3.

Warnings: SMUT, dry humping, P in V, quickies, kitchen counter fuck.

The sun had risen for around 2 hours now, and your husband had yet to leave the bed. You had thought that maybe he’d left for work after you had gotten up in the morning, because the mob was no easy job after all. Though after a quick check up on your sleeping son, you’d found his father in the same exact position, head in the clouds on your shared bed despite it already being 7 in the morning.

The Alaskan King mattress draped on the luxurious bed frame made a man as huge as Bucky look so small, you couldn't even imagine what you and your son looked like when it was only the two of you lying down on it. The fluffy mattress was just so plushy and dreamy that you couldn’t even blame Bucky for sleeping in, so instead, you made use of yourself around the house. Sure you did have maids maintaining the mansion during daytime, but you were bored and there was clearly nothing better to do while waiting for your two boys to wake up.

You quickly realised that your newfound occupation was not going to last, if it had even managed to start, because how could you clean a house that was already spotless? Yet again you had already gotten bored of it, so instead you found amusement in mindlessly scrolling on your phone. Your feet were fast to lead you to the kitchen, a path that was solidly traced deep inside your head. From the endless of secret midnight trips that you’d take to satisfy your cravings during pregnancy, you’d notice yourself finding an odd comfort in the expensive marble floor and matching countertops.

Too entranced in the media to notice the heavy footsteps that were closing in on you, the bulky arms entrapping your waist surely did scare you at the moment, and you nearly let out a yelp as your phone escaped your grip. Thanking yourself for having leant against your kitchen counter, you turned around to glare at your husband.

“Morning Malyshka, little trouble not runnin’ wild today?” Bucky rasped out, his hands still gripping onto your hips as if to keep him grounded. You found the smirk on his face less than amusing, and you reckoned that he was probably reliving the jumpscare that he had given you inside of his head, probably so proud of his little prank.

“Lev is with his nanny right now, I didn't have time to see him earlier because apparently he’s been preparing a surprise for us. He did however ask through Grace for his papa and mama to be present in about 10 minutes.” you recalled the exact words that Lev’s caretaker, Grace, had spoken to you a few minutes ago. You’d told her this morning that she could head back home, given that apparently Bucky had taken a day off to stay at home. Though on her way to the door, she had been unfortunately intercepted by a freshly woken-up Lev, but she didn’t mind one bit. Your son was quite the charmer, nobody could resist those doe eyes of his.

The smile present on your face as you spoke about Lev could only feed Bucky’s admiration towards you, if it was even possible to grow the endless love that he already held for you. Your ears caught onto the grunt that Bucky had let out in response, instead too busy taking in your outfit with those hungry baby blue eyes of his to even mutter out a proper verbal response.

It had almost been too long since you both have had time to touch the other in a much more intimate way than you were currently doing, and it almost made you crave. Scratch that, you were past the point of craving, in fact you felt so deprived of it that you were ready to get down on your knees and pray for god to release you of the intense sexual frustration that you felt, but that sounded a little too vulgar. You knew that Bucky felt the same, that he’d spend way too many nights fisting himself in his office while your name fell in short groans under his breath. But work had been getting busy, and you had to care for things around your home while your husband attended those never ending meetings.

Now would have been the perfect time to relish in each other, considering Bucky had no work

Now would have been the perfect time to relish in each other, considering you were both currently alone and your son was getting safely watched over. But you feared that Grace was going to come fetch you sooner than your son had demanded, and the allocated time was not even that far from then. Nevertheless, you could read straight through Bucky’s mind as he gazed at you like some starving man. His cock painfully aching in the restraints of his plain boxers as he enjoyed the sight of you in nothing else but a white, oversized button down shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton panties.

“Whatever you’re thinking of right now, cut it out okay? I’m sure that Grace said she’d come fetch us at 9:30, and look at the time now,”

you pushed Bucky further back with two fingers on his chest, creating space between you both as you felt his intense stare burning literal holes through the thin fabric of your shirt. Bucky craned his neck towards the nearest clock, groaning in annoyance when the hands showed a clear 9:24.

When he looked back towards you, you had already turned your body back towards the counter. Leant against the cool marble surface with your phone in hands, Bucky had to suppress a groan at the sight of your ass in those tight little panties, right in front of him, ready for him to ruin.

A surprised gasp left your lips as you felt large, warm palms engulfing your hips once more. This time however, you felt Bucky pulling your hips onto his, making your ass collide against his straining cock. You almost groaned at the feeling of his hard clothed length pressed up so tightly against you, the wet spot of precum staining his boxers already starting to soak into your own underwear.

“C'mon doll, allow me just those 6 minutes of your time, I promise I can even make you cum in less than 3.” you could almost feel the smirk in his tone, his warm breath fanning your neck as his naked chest pressed against your clothed back. If he wasn’t already irresistible before, you sure as hell were a saint for not falling into the temptation of your smoking hot mob husband pleading to fuck you.

You turned back to your phone instead of audibly responding, afraid of your mouth betraying you at the moment. You tried to swallow down a moan as Bucky’s large calloused palms slid underneath the oversized button down shirt that you were wearing, daintily caressing your smooth skin. Sure your eyes were pointed at the screen of your phone, but your mind couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the feeling of Bucky’s very hard boner still pressed against you.

You couldn’t help your mind from running, not in the compromising position that you were in. You shuddered at the memory of Bucky’s cock stretching you out like no other, his wonderful length reaching the depths of your body as you rode him greedily after a day spent away from each other. It was a nasty cocktail of filth, concocted with drool, sweat and a couple of loose cuss words thrown here and there.

He was nothing more than a tease, and damn did he know it. The way his fingertips grazed your skin, making you want to drop the act and beg on your knees for him to touch you properly. Once again, his hands met with your hips, except this time you had little time to react to your husband pulling you further back into him.

You’d ended up completely bent over the marble counter, your chest flushed against the cold material of the table as Bucky palmed your ass greedily, as if it’d bring him pleasure. His other hand was gripping at your upper thigh for dear life, oftentimes running up your legs seductively, leaving you with shivers running down your spine.

You dropped your phone once he’d started rolling your hips onto his, tired of pretending like you could actually focus on whatever was displayed on your screen as he manhandled you to his will. You forced yourself to remain quiet as he continued to roll your hips onto the bulging tent of his boxers, drowning in the sweet groans that he was letting out. Too desperate to care how loud he was being, Bucky tipped his head back in pure pleasure.

Never once did it occur to you how pleasuring dry humping could be, but yet again it could’ve been because of how sexually deprived you both were. You shrugged the thought of getting caught away, blaming it on the fact that since no clothes were being removed, you could easily play it off if anyone were to walk in.

Bucky felt as though he could burst from the sheer clothed friction itself, but it was not enough, he needed to feel you. Fuck it, he was genuinely ready to drop to his knees and beg to fuck you like a hopeless man. He’d beg to eat you like a famished boy, hell, he’d wouldn’t even mind if you allowed his fingers only.

Thick fingers ran down the seam of your panties, sneakily slipping under the elastic band to push the cotton fabric down to pool around your upper thighs. You turned around to yell at him, clearly he was not understanding. The clock flashed at 9:26 now, and your anxiety was peaking at every moment that the second hand moved. Your words got caught up in your throat as he brought his hand up to his mouth, lubricating three of his fingers with his spit before bringing a hand down to rub at your aching pussy.

“Fuck detka, look at you all pretty and soaked for me.” Bucky almost moaned out, tongue lapping out to wet his slightly chapped lips. You didn’t even have time to process your husband pulling down his own restraints, thick and veiny cock slapping against his toned stomach with a satisfying wet sound. Precum smeared from his cock and onto the muscles of his stomach, leaving you shaking with anticipation.

“If you’re gonna do anything then you better do it now ‘cause we only have 4 minutes!” you rushed out the words, voice shying away as you felt him pushing the fat tip of his cock through your soaking folds. You moaned at the feeling, gripping the counter so hard until you could feel your joints straining. Bucky picked up the pace, pressing a hand under his cock to help slide himself faster between your lips.

He was drenched by now, thick cock dripping with your arousal as his eyes gawked at the way his length disappeared between the both of your bodies at each of his thrusts. Time was waiting, and Bucky knew more than anybody else as he was facing the wall-mounted clock. The warmth of your hole was calling for him, waiting for him to stretch you out like he had done so many times before.

Bucky gripped firmly onto the base of his cock that was twitching impatiently in his hands, teasing your entrance as he slid only the tip in and out. He bit down onto his lips in order to retain the series of filth that was bound to escape his mouth, his teeth were biting so hard onto the delicate skin of his lips that he was sure it had started bleeding at some point. “Fuck and would you look at that, S’like you’re trina suck me up doll,” he ran his mouth, unable to prevent the nasty roll of his words from escaping.

Sweatdrops ran down his toned pack of abs as he eyed the way you squirmed from nothing else but his flushed tip, resisting the urge to just bury himself inside of you right now until you could think of nothing else but how stuffed you were. Though a quick look at the clock told him to stop resisting the urge, and that’s what he’d done. You were sure that the whole building could’ve heard the cry of pleasure that left your throat as Bucky sheathed his cock completely inside of you, leaving no space for second thoughts now that he’d gone all the way.

His cock twitched at the sound of your desperate whines, your hips grinding against his in a desperate need for friction. “Thought you were the one that didn’t want this, detka? What happened to that huh?” his tone almost sounded sardonic as his eyes trained on the way your hole greedily engulfed his cock, juices lapping all over his length once more as he slowly but surely pumped himself inside of you. You couldn’t even speak back to him, already too cock drunk from what he had yet to even give you.

His grin grew at your silence, at least in coherent words, your whines only grew as the seconds passed. You both have had many quickies in the past, in between Bucky’s break as he had you on his desk, or hidden somewhere in a closet, you name it. Though none of them have ever been as desperate as this one, as needy. Finally deciding to ease your painful awaiting of pure pleasure, he gave into the warmth.

With the mix of his swift thrust and thick finger circling at your clit, it took you no time to lose grip over the counter. Bucky took notice of your sudden weakness, and as the caring husband that he is, dragged his arm up to wrap around your torso, locking you flushed with your back against his chest. The new position had your back arching for more, your sultry moans a clear sign that you were enjoying yourself.

The tips of his middle and ring finger were laid flat against your clit as he ran teasing circles onto it. You felt your knees buckling as Bucky’s lips left sloppy kisses at the back of your neck, thankful enough for his incredible strength as he kept you standing by his own. Pride coursed through his body at the sight of you being so dishevelled because of him, the back of your head now pressed up against his chest as you leaned into him.

Bucky’s knees were slightly bent to reach into you, bless his large frame and impressive height, he was quite literally hovering over you. It felt too good getting fucked right by such a large man, the size kink inside of you feasting from the way his large palm could swallow you up on its own. It didn’t take long for Bucky’s forceful strokes to falter, now in a sloppy pace as his own orgasm chased up to him.

Yours hit you like a cold bucket of water, but in all the nice ways. Like a cold bucket of water but during the driest summer days. It only took you a final sharp thrust and the endless toying of your clit to send you over the top, your toes curling and fingers digging painfully into the arm holding your torso up as your orgasm washed over you. It was a loud and whiny one, but the sound of you coming only riled Bucky up more.

His clumsy strokes were a warning that he was coming shortly behind you, and after three last, hard and deep pumps of his cock, he was milked dry inside of you. The room filled with deep grunts and your exhausted panting, you shivered as your husband’s spent breath tickled the skin of your neck.

“Fuck that was…that was- holy shit we needed that.” bucky stammered into the crook of your neck, a heartfelt chuckle erupting from his chest as he came down from his high. The short bucking of his hips finally stopped, and you could finally release your bottom lip from the painful tug of your teeth. The both of you stood there for a couple of seconds trying to catch your stuttering breathing as the clock ticked clean on 9:30.

You could barely even cipher the first knock that was sent at the huge kitchen doors, before the knocking resumed. You and Bucky broke apart faster than you would’ve liked to, and you groaned at the empty feeling that he’d leave behind after pulling his softening cock out of you. Reluctantly, the both of you flung the little amount of garments that you previously had on, cringing at the wet feeling of Bucky’s dripping semen getting caught by your panties.

“We’re coming soon Grace, tell Lev to wait in his playroom while waiting for us.” you yelled loud enough for your son’s nanny to hear, although with the amount of screaming that Bucky had put you through, you doubted she’d hear much with the way your voice would rasp. Her lack of response hinted at you that she’d heard your little altercation with Bucky, and you mentally cursed at the both of you for traumatising the poor woman.

“Dunno about you but I'm not going anywhere near our son looking like this so you’ll have to go first while I shower,” you grinned mischievously as Bucky threw his head back in an annoyed groan, already knowing what was awaiting him in a few seconds. Though you both were more than aware of your son’s mood in the morning when you weren’t there, you just felt the need to tease him a little bit more.

“You how tempered he gets when his momma isn’t there first thing to see him in the morning, but that’s what you get for being impatient now,” you grinned, running a hand down his stubble as you stood on your toes to give Bucky a chaste kiss that he tried to chase for longer than you would allow.

Bucky’s baby blue eyes followed your every move as you sauntered away from him with a sultry sway of your hips, the button down shirt covering the majority of your panties but it was hard to miss the dribble of his and your arousal running down your legs shamefully. Running a hand down his face, he tried not to get lost in the shameful thoughts that he had of you running through his head, instead, he was too busy mentally preparing himself for the angry fit that your son would throw once he realised that his momma wasn’t there by his side to kiss him good morning yet.

this is my second smut written and i haven’t written one since 2021 so pls don’t judge LMAO😭

#bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #husband!bucky #dad!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #husband!bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky oneshot #bro idk what this is #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky smut

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azullumi · 1 month

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“affection weaves into the letters on your screen” ; aventurine and ratio

premise — messages and calls between you and him.

content tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, texts and messages, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

note — i needed something easy and nice because everything has been too stressful

If there’s one constant thing about AVENTURINE is that he is an avid fan of messaging, texting, or whatever the proper term for that is. No matter where he is and what he’s doing, he’ll always find the time to type in a message for you and press send—it could be about anything, from the random thing he’ll see while he’s walking which he thinks you’ll be interested in to how his day is going and possibly, ranting about it. The only time he’ll be inactive is when he’s in the middle of something, like completely and utterly busy that he couldn’t pick up his phone to check up on you or update you on what he’s doing.

Would use the most out of everything; calls, voice messages, attachments, everything. He’ll use stickers whenever he can and would use those silly emoticons because why not? He’s very expressive overall; it’s like you can hear his voice, see his expression, and the gestures he’ll do over the screen.

PHOTOS !! There are new ones added to the shared gallery of your conversations with him every single day. He sees something cool? He takes a photo. He’s currently having a meal? No questions asked, he’ll take a photo. The critters are in this silly position? The camera is pointed at them already and the image of them in a circle while seemingly discussing something is sent. He’ll send selfies of himself throughout the day and he’s the type to pose with random things; there was a time he sent you a photo of himself holding a potted plant (he said it was an addition to his office and he thought you should know). It’s ridiculous, you may say, but he can’t contain the smile on his face when you send a photo back.

Occasionally, it’s videos that he sends.

It’s the late night calls and messages. Aventurine has sleeping problems, struggling to fall or stay asleep no matter how much he physically exhausts himself, so when worse comes to worst and it’s already midnight yet there’s no ounce of anything that makes his eyes heavy, he’ll message you—asking if you’re still awake and if you’re doing anything. It’s your voice that guides him to his dreams, gentle and delicate as a lullaby; by then, you’ll receive no response from him as you call for his name and you’ll have to whisper to him goodnight as he sleeps.

BONUS : on the topic of calls, he likes spending time with you in silence as you do your own thing while he also does his own. Your presence is enough to comfort him and keep him grounded.

VERITAS RATIO is not much of a texter and if he does send you a message, it’s mostly about engineering designs for a machine, requesting that you give him a set of questions if he needs something to simulate his weary brain, sending you links to a sign-up form for a debate that is occuring, or proposals for a certain project as he asks for your input. There are times you’ll find yourself debating with him—all just casual and he won’t throw a chalk at you. However, the line of your conversation between you and him is short and is separated by intervals; he just prefers talking in person or over calls.

He’s probably the fastest typer you know but he rarely ever makes typos, like ever. He types strictly and formally with proper capitalization and punctuations with the mixture of the words that would require you to bring out a dictionary to understand, always starting his sentence with an uppercase and ending it with a period. It feels like you’re having a corporate or business meeting whenever you’re talking to him due to how formal he is over text (you can probably hear his voice whenever you read his messages too).

“DRYEST TEXTER IN THE UNIVERSE EVER” some would say and maybe you too, however, there are traces of sweetness and affection in your (short) conversations with him. He’s the one to greet you first in the morning, so expect that the moment the sun has risen, there’s a message notification from him displayed on the screen on your phone—the time you’ll rise from your bed, your sleeping and wake-up patterns are embedded in his mind and he ensures that you always wake up with a good morning.

In note with that, sometimes, you’ll find yourself wondering if he even thinks of you, if you occasionally appear inside his mind and distract him from his work—doubt begins to muddle your thoughts. However, you must remember that he’ll always send you reminders throughout the day, telling you of the agenda you have planned for the afternoon which you told him once or twice the day before, reminding you to finish this task you’ve been procrastinating on, or just simply telling you to take a break or to eat something (especially when he knows that you don’t take care of yourself).

Be kind to yourself, will you? He looks out for you and cares for you a lot even if you may think otherwise.

EXTRA : doesn’t call and is not exactly a fan of it, however, if his phone were to ring and he sees it’s you calling for him, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer it.

tagging the one and only amazing and lovely @toorurs 🗣️ first of all, i’m sorry that i haven’t replied to your tiktoks when i told you i will (plsdonthateme) and second, i actually dont have a second thing to say. anywaysss!! i think we’ve both been busy these days or maybe it’s just me (sorry finals are approaching) but do know that no matter what happens i still treasure and love you as a friend ‼️ i saw this one plant in our trip yesterday and i remembered you i dont know why i think it’s because it was pretty and the color reminded me of you 🫶🏼 but yeah, keep on doing amazing things and amazing works (DONT DIE FELI THE WORLD WILL LOSE AN ANGEL) !! you’ve become one of my most favorite people ever and remember that i will always be here for youu mwa

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stylesharrys · 7 months

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Love Me Like You Do

Harry’s never had someone take care of him the way that Y/N does.

A/N: here's another old exclusive guys. there are lots and lots of fics lined up for you for the next couple of months while I work on a 20k realtor!y/n and a 20k ex-boyfriend! Harry so enjoy!

WC: 2,361

At first, Harry thought nothing of it.

The honeymoon phase, he told himself. It made sense, it was expected. His past lovers had all been the same during that time — always obsessed and seemingly in love. Seemingly.

But after a few months, they always started to change. They’d distance themselves first, take a while longer to reply or to get in contact with him. Then, they’d get blunt and annoyed quickly with him. They wouldn’t want him close, wouldn’t shower him in affection. Wouldn’t let him touch them.

And then, eventually, they’d leave. Maybe on the odd occasion, they’d butter him up and get a little splurge on his card, or go to him just for their release. A few had cheated, some just left. Nothing for Harry has ever lasted past a year and a half, and now it’s nearing the two-year mark and he’s confused.

Y/N is a lovely woman. She’s kind, funny, smart, gorgeous. Harry thinks her kindness and wit is what attracted him to her in the first place, and in the two years he’s known her, he’s only started to love her more.

It’s not like he thinks deep down she’s a horrible person, but Harry has grown accustomed to how things typically work in his relationships, and none of the above has yet occurred.

Currently, he’s lying on his stomach with his face smushed into Y/N’s pillow. She’s straddling his lower back, her bum on his bum and his shirt is long gone as she massages the tender knots out of his shoulders. She’s been doing it for thirty minutes now. Harry’s been watching the clock.

He’s been feeling a little ill the past few days. Migraine, sore muscles and the occasional fleeting moments of nausea. He lost his appetite and strength pretty quickly and Y/N has been on the ball with it — at his feet with a sick bucket, coddling his head to her chest with a cold compress against his skin. She’s done it all and Harry can’t quite understand it.

From past experiences of being ill or caught with the flu, the only person to have ever taken proper care of him had been his mother. And now, his lover is doing what past lovers didn’t, and Harry’s confused.

It’s not that Y/N isn’t an overwhelmingly kind and compassionate person, because she is. Her caring and nurturing behaviour is nothing out of the ordinary for Y/N, but Harry has never experienced such care from a romantic partner before.

It’s like Y/N has forgotten about the gruelling twelve-hour shift she just got home from, but Harry hasn’t ,and although he’s the one that’s sick, she’s the one that’s been on her feet all day.

“Come on, I’ll do you.” His words come out gruffly, muffled slightly by the pillow that restricts the fluid movements of his lips. He can feel Y/N shake her head from above him. She sinks the balls of her palms into the backs of his shoulders.

“You need to relax and rest.” She argues, thinks her reasoning will be enough for him not to ask again.

Harry shakes his head and shuffles beneath the weight of her body. Y/N lifts to her knees, allowing him to turn beneath her and onto his back. Harry’s eyes are bleary and sleepy as he blinks to gain his bearings. He stretches for her hips, hands finding them with ease.

She’s sitting on his lower tummy, dressed in a pair of cycling shorts and one of his old Rolling Stones t-shirts that she changed into the second she got home. There’s dotting of mascara smudged below her eyes and a couple of pimples that are starting to show through the worn, minimal makeup.

He knows she’s had a long day, could tell the second she got in and pretended that she was okay for his sake. Her hair is tied back low on her neck, stray strands wildly framing her face. She looks tired, burnt out. Harry just wants to look after her.

“Bad day?” He finally asks.

Y/N blinks twice and shrugs, head rolling as her shoulders raise and her cheek meets it. “Busy,” she tells him. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Harry squints.

He knows she’s used to it — the long days with early starts and late finishes, the ones without a break in-between, where she doesn’t get to eat, save for a few grapes she manages to steal every now and then. He knows she’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting her.

He squeezes her hips gently. “Know you’re used to it, pet. Don’t make it any easier, though.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her hands are on his, encouraging them to sneak up her shirt to feel her skin. She’s warm, soft. Y/N pouts down at him. “Want a kiss.” She says, eyes glassy with affectionate need.

Harry copies her expression, reaching up to caress the side of her face. “Can’t let ya get sick, babe. Why don’t you let me run you a bath and you can relax?” He offers, eyes gentle and she lets hers flitter closed for a moment, like she’s pondering over her answer.

She shakes her head.

“You’re the sick one. I’m going to run you a bath, and then I’m going to make you some soup for your throat. Know it’s still been hurting you.”

Harry doesn’t say anything — knows that whatever he argues, she’ll bite back better. His body sinks into the sheets, head in the pillow as a heavy huff of annoyance and adoration slips from his mouth.

When Y/N said she’d run him a bath, Harry didn’t expect it to be overflowing with bubbles or for every possible available surface to be littered in glowing candles. But the bathroom wasdecorated with such and Harry was overcome with an overwhelming amount of love for his girl.

She let him take his time in there, relaxing and soothing his muscles while she cooked up some magic for his throat. Getting out of the bath, Harry most definitely does not expect to wander into the kitchen to see what he does.

Y/N behind the stove, dishing up the soup with two fresh rolls from the bakery a mile from them. She’s got the lights dim for him — knows they’re hurting his head — and there are more candles around the living room.

The coffee table is littered with them mostly, Netflix is up and ready on the TV and as he looks to the sofa, he notices she got out her favourite blanket — the soft one that Harry swears is made from angel wings.

And he looks at her, starry-eyed and all. She’s got a gentle smile on her lips when she notices his presence and Harry is fucked.

He can’t stop the rush of emotion that consumes him. His eyes turn glassy, nose tingling and heart aching. Harry reckons he’s easily the most loved man in the world and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He can’t help the single tear that slips down his face but he wipes it before she notices.

Harry approaches her, arms wrapping around the middle of his love and he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Thank you, for all of this. Love you so much.” He rasps into her skin.

He can feel her body warm against his touch and she smiles, rashes down to hold her hand over his. “Love you loads, too. And you haven’t got to thank me, this is just what you do when you love someone.”

When you love someone.

She shrugs her own words off like they’re the most obvious thing she’s ever said, but Harry can’t stop falling harder for her.

He’s loved people before, he knows that. But now, looking back, he wonders if anyone has ever loved him before her.

Harry doesn’t remember a time that a previous lover put him before themselves. Where they cared for him and put his needs first. Where they showered him with care and adoration just because.

No ones ever loved him as she does.

The tears start to pool again as he pulls away and helps her carry their bowls and drinks to the sofa. They sit close, dipping pieces of bread into the creamy soup Y/N prepared and keeping their eyes on the TV.

Harry is struggling to focus though when Y/N takes a glance at the clock and carries their empty bowls to the kitchen. He cranes his neck across the back of the sofa to see what she’s doing, but her back is to him as she runs the sink tap and rummages through the cupboard.

What he does see is her shuffling back to the living room with a small glass of water and a curled open palm carrying three little white tablets atop it.

Y/N settles beside him, handing him the glass with a tired smile and offering him the pills. “They’ll help with your head and throat, hun.” She curls into the sofa, her knees to her chest and close to Harry’s side. Y/N props one arm against the back of the pillows and her fingers find the long hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck, gently craving through the soft locks.

He watches her for a moment, completely dumbfounded and speechless if he’s honest.

Something like Y/N taking care of him when he’s sick shouldn’t have him feeling so fucked and in love, but it does. He’s teary-eyed because his girl is taking care of him off her own back. Because she isn’t complaining once or making anything about herself.

Because she’s loving him beyond the words of saying it.

And he cries.

Y/N’s stunned at the sight, thinks maybe he’s about to sneeze, but his body starts to tremble and she realises what’s going on. So, gently, she pries the glass and pills from his wanton hands and places them blindly on the coffee table before reaching back for him.

“Hey,” she coos.

Her hands caress the damp and flushed skin of his cheeks to bring Harry’s gaze to meet her reassuring one. “Why are you crying, H?” Her words are asked in a light and airy voice, one that isn’t serious as she chuckles softly, but he still knows she’s concerned for him.

He shakes his head and pulls her into his side, laughing at himself too because, why is he crying?

“Just never had anyone look after me apart from my mum before. Really fucking lucky to have you, love. No ones ever loved me like you do before.”

Her hand is sprawled across his gently heaving chest and she kisses his neck with a soft peck, offering a squeeze. His hand is brushing comfortingly up and down her arm but neither of them really know why he’s the one trying to comfort her.

Y/N swallows, reaching her right hand across her chest to find his hand that lingers over the front of her shoulder, and she interlaces their fingers, squeezing. “I wish I could show you how in love with you I am… no words can describe it.” She admits, bashfully.

Harry squeezes her hand, using his other to wipe his face and he laughs again, because he’s so in love that it hurts. It hurts so fucking good because he knows this is it for him. She is it for him. Together against the world. Their future, their everything.

“I know, baby. S’the same for me.”

His raw voice sends a shiver through her spine and her own eyes are watering with salty drops of emotion. It hurts her too. More so knowing nobody has ever treated him right, nobody has ever taken care of him and loved him like he’s always deserved.

“I’m always gonna love you like this, H. Always gonna put you before me. Put us before anything else. You’re it for me, hope I’m it for you, too.”

He grins, cranes his neck to look down at her through hooded eyes. “‘Course you’re it for me. Been my future since I fucking laid eyes on ya, pet. It’s us forever, yeah?”

She breathes, tears slipping but she nods her head. He doesn’t get the chance to stop her before she’s leaning up and smacking a kiss to his lips, eager and sweet. He doesn’t pull away either, as selfish as it is.

Y/N reads his mind, knows what he’s thinking. “Don’t care if I get a bloody cold. You’re worth it.”

“God, I fucking love you.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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jimblejamblewritings · 1 month

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love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.

Yours truly,

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.

Yours truly,

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”

“Everything is wrong with that.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“Cecilia.”

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”

“Cecilia.”

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”

“Cecilia.”

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”

“Please, just give u—”

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”

“I second that.”

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”

“Not your room?”

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”

“You are getting restless.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine.”

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And, by the way, I already washed up.”

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.

“Oh, good. It is just you.”

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”

“What?”

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”

“Your Highness.”

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”

She gasped as you hugged her.

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”

“WHAT?!”

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”

“Keaton,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.

“Mrs. Keaton?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”

You nodded. “Simply Miss Keaton.”

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”

They all chuckled when you laughed.

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

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illyrianbitch · 2 months

Text

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: Even most powerful males in Prythian need relationship advice from their best friend.

Warnings: males bein males about females (but theyre well meaning), brief mentions of sexual encounters, crack & friendship fluff!!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was one thing about Cassian that you’d come to know over the centuries you’d been friends: the male could talk.

He was on a new tangent now, describing the details of a strange dream he’d had a few days prior, casually laying across the couch with his feet propped up on the arm rests. How his wings weren’t uncomfortable being smushed underneath him and the couch cushions, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to ask and risk another hour long explanation of how nothing phases him because he's “just that male.”

“And the princess next to him looked exactly like Az-”

You let out a groan, pushing yourself to sit upright from your current slouched position, staring at Cassian with a confused expression. “Cass,” you said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He stopped mid sentence, turning to look at you with an open mouth and a blank stare. “My dream. Were you not listening?”

You gave him a look. “No.”

He frowned. “Well, that's rude. I listen to all of your dreams.”

“No, you don’t.”

He stilled for a moment, holding your stare, and then a giant grin broke out on his face. “Ah, you got me. I don’t.”

You let out a small snort before shaking your head and taking another deep breath. “Can we get back to why you needed to talk to me in the first place?”

Cassian’s face lit up in acknowledgement, and then he was readjusting himself to a proper sitting position, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Right, okay. I need your expertise on matters of the heart."

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “Okay…”

"Alright, so you know that female I’ve been with?"

You raised your eyebrows. “You have to be more specific than that.”

He stilled for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. Then he grinned, “The one who I said tasted like honey?”

You grimaced at his description. But Cass didn’t notice as he continued, “She’s super pretty. Real nice too, she gave you those little treats, remember?”

You thought back to the previous weeks, faintly remembering running into a female in the kitchen. You were still hungover from the night prior, so you didn’t remember much about the small conversation you’d held with her, but you did remember those treats— and the way she stared at Cassian longingly.

“I remember,” you finally said. “What about her?”

“I like her. I think she’s really cool. So, I want to do something to impress her, maybe ask her out for real.”

You smiled at him, a small, gentle, upside down smile that formed a small pout as you said, “Aw, Cass, you softie.”

The male in front of you grinned again, offering you a small shrug. “What can I say, I’m pussy-whipped.”

Your smile fell and you rolled your eyes. Well, that moment was nice while it lasted. You took a deep breath before leaning forward more, matching Cassian’s posture.

"She really liked you, so I don’t think you can go wrong. Just do what feels right.”

Cassian’s grin grew as he nodded his head in contemplation. "Alright,” he said, “Hear me out. I'm thinking of making a grand gesture outside her apartment, something to really show her how I feel."

You nodded, intrigued. "Okay, go on."

"And get this," He leaned in closer, a childlike glee in his voice as he continued, "I'll do it butt-ass naked, with a ribbon tied around my—"

Your hand shot up in front of you, a single finger pointed to cut him off mid-sentence. A deep sigh escaped you as you brought the hand to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"So, I stand corrected,” you said with a disappointed nod. “You can go wrong."

Cassian's expression faltered, confusion evident in his features as he frowned. "What? You just told me—"

"Yeah, that was before you said that terrible idea," you interrupted, shaking your head in disbelief. "Don't do that. Do anything but that."

He sat up straighter, his lips slightly upturned now, a glint in his eyes. "Anything?"

You paused, remembering your earlier encouragement. Then you let out a deep sound of frustration. "Dude, just get her some flowers."

"But that's so boring,” he whined, “Like, Rhys boring. I gotta go big or go home, you know?"

You let out a groan at the ceiling, letting yourself fall back into the couch with an exasperated flare of your hands. "At this rate, please go home. I'm begging you."

But then, just as Cassian was about to let himself fall back into the couch, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I've got an idea,” he said, quickly jumping off the couch.

He stopped midway, turning around to walk over to you in a few quick strides. He leaned down, managing to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before running away again.

“Thanks, Y/n. Love you!”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was a quiet morning in the townhouse, gentle rays of sun shining through the opened kitchen window. You rubbed your tired eyes as you looked outside, waiting for the remnants of your sleep to disappear with the new day. Your hands held onto the small apple in your grasp, running your fingers along the fruit as you stared outside. With a small hum of contentment, you turned around to head back to your room.

You bumped into a large mass as you turned around, a dark figure shrouded in shadows as it stood still before you.

“Holy fuck!”

The apple fell from your hands as you jumped back, eyes blinking rapidly as Azriel’s presence registered before you, a small amused smile on his face. You let out a deep breath, hands flying to your heavily beating heart. You glared at him, your gaze quickly flickering down to your waist, where a small black mass floated around your apple— suspended in mid air as it was caught during its fall.

You quickly snatched the apple back, watching as the shadows happily trailed back to Azriel, their black forms settling behind his back and above his shoulders. You brought your glare back to Azriel’s face.

He did this to you often, quieting the sound of hit footsteps with his shadows to make his entrances stealthy and unnoticed. It never got old to him, how often you’d get caught off guard and send a glare his way, usually accompanied by a string of curses he’d never heard put together.

“Footsteps make noise for a reason, Az,” you grumbled, “So you don’t make your loved ones shit their pants.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, and you didn’t miss the movement of a lone tendril moving towards you— you lightly swatted it away, redirecting it like a small, curious puppy.

“I didn’t mean literally, you ass.”

Azriel only grinned in response, a small laugh leaving his lips. “It just never gets old.”

His hair was slightly tousled, messy across his forehead. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, a casual, lazy look that he often adorned on quiet, slow, mornings like these— this version of Az, laid-back and comfortable, was one solely reserved for the townhouse, and only for you and your family.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes at him. “What do you want?”

Az frowned slightly. “Good Morning to you, too, I guess.”

“It was a good morning, until you disrupted my peace. What do you want?”

Azriel’s face held a mischievous smile as he shrugged. “Why do you think I want something?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Because I know you. And you’re wearing your I need a favor face.”

He scowled at this, letting out a small sound of offense. “That's not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” he protested again, “I don’t have faces. This is just my face.”

“Az,” you groaned. “Get to the point please. What do you want?”

He let out a sigh of defeat before he shifted on his feet. “Fine, I need your he-”

You pointed an excited finger in his face. “Aha,” you said loudly, “I knew you needed something!”

Yet again, he scowled at this, lightly knocking your finger out of his face with his palm. He gave you a flat look.

“Ow.”

“Can I speak now?”

You held your hands up in resignation, finally bringing the apple to your mouth as you took a small bite.

“Pierla won’t leave me alone.”

You frowned at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Who?”

Somehow, Azriel’s face fell even flatter, and he stared at you with an unammused look. “Y/n,” he said, almost scolding you with an exasperated tone.

“What?” you said. “I’m sorry I don’t keep track of every female you guys bed. My fault.”

He rolled his eyes, and you resisted the urge to either scoff in disbelief or mimic his movements. Sure, laid-back and comfortable Azriel was reserved for the townhouse and morning like this, but so was sassy Azriel and his impatience as well. You preferred the first— and only the second when it was directed at anyone but you.

“I slept with her like five days ago.”

“Okay,” you drawled, “And now she won’t leave you alone.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh.

You stared at him, brows still furrowed, a frown now on your face that crinkled your nose. “Well that sucks.”

He stared at you again, the same flat and unamused look on his face. A flicker of irritation ran through his hazel eyes. “Y/n.”

You lifted your hands up in exasperation, the apple still held in one hand, adorned by the lone bite you’d been granted to take. “What?” you responded, “The hell am I supposed to do about that? That’s a pp.”

“A pp?”

You pursed your lips, preparing yourself to hold back a laugh. “A personal problem.”

He let out a sound of frustration. “Really?”

You let your mouth fall open in response. “Again, I reiterate, what am I supposed to do in this situation?”

“I don’t know!” His hands flew out in desperation as he shrugged, his shadows bouncing to the edges of his fingertips. “Help me, or something. Please.”

“Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Vocally? No. Physically? Yes.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Azriel brought a finger to the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes, not waiting for him to respond as you added, “Why are you acting frustrated right now? You put yourself in this position, Az.”

For what felt like the millionth time in the conversation, Az scowled. “I’m well aware of the position I’m currently placed in, Y/n.”

You brought the apple to your mouth, taking advantage of the moment of silence to actually indulge in the sole reason you’d been in the kitchen in the first place. Taking a few seconds to chew, you mulled over the options at hand.

“Next time you’re with her, just stare.”

Azriel blinked. “What.”

“You have this stare you do when you zone out, it's creepy. And unnerving. It makes me want to apologize for things I’ve never done.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, a slight smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes before letting your face fall, as you frowned at him, arms falling lax at your sides. “You do it on purpose, don’t you?”

His smirk grew. “Never,” he replied, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “But good idea, I’ll do that. Thanks, Y/n.”

As he turned his back and began walking out, you quickly sent a vulgar gesture to his back, angrily sticking up your middle finger in mockery.

“Saw that,” he sang over his shoulders. You casted your gaze down to a lone shadow that danced before you.

“Snitch,” you whispered down to it, watching as it began sliding to Azriel’s retreating form.

His voice rang out from the hallway, “Heard that, too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Velaris was extra lively this morning, and it made your day even better.

You always found it so special that despite his duties as High Lord, Rhys never missed the tradition of getting breakfast with you every other Wednesday. You couldn’t quite remember when the tradition started, surely centuries ago when you both were younger, deciding that Wednesday’s needed a specific pick-me-up to get through the rest of the week. But the tradition formed, and it stayed for centuries. And, truly, you loved it. It always gave you a sense of comfort— a reminder that things may always change around you, but never when it came to the bond you shared with your boys, and with Rhysand especially.

But Rhys was quiet this morning, absentmindedly picking at the flakes of the croissant on his table.

You let out a small laugh. “Okay, spill. What the hell happened to you?”

Rhys slowly angled his head to look up at you, face distorted in defeat. “Females,” he muttered. “That’s what happened.”

You frowned, placing the croissant back down on the plate before you. You dusted your hands of crumbs. “Usually you say that word with a lot more excitement.”

He raised his eyebrows in response, and you watched as he rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

You lifted an eyebrow of your own. “What did you do?”

He brought his gaze back to you. “I’ve been fucking around with the twins.”

You frowned in confusion.

“...Nuala and Cerridwen?” You whispered, leaning closer to him, face scrunched.

You let your mind wander for a moment, thinking about the two twins that Rhysand had welcomed into your home. You loved the sisters dearly, and even you can admit they were beautiful— a type of beauty you didn’t really know how to describe, but beautiful nonetheless. But they were more shadows than they were form, not tangible enough to….have sex with, you assumed. You blinked.

“W-What?” Rhysand said, eyes widening slightly. “No. The twins from Rita’s last weekend.”

“Oh,” you breathed out with a relieved smile. And then you thought back to the two females Rhys had left with, a grin forming on your face.” Oh,” you said, amused. You leaned forward bumped his shoulders with a gentle fist. “Nice.”

“Not nice,” he grumbled, letting his back fall against the metal back of the chair. He let out an exasperated sigh. Your gaze trailed to the streets next to you, catching the sight of a few passerbys taking in the scene of their defeated High Lord. You cleared your throat, leaning forward in your chair to place your elbows on the table.

“Okay, I’m confused,” you said, “Why is this not a good thing? Seventeen year old Rhysand would be pissing in excitement right now.”

Rhys let out a small snicker at this, a small smirk on his face at the image. But then it quickly fell when he let out another grumble.

“Rhys, people are looking at you and making fun of you.”

He sprung up at this, eyes quickly searching his surroundings. He made eye contact with a few citizens, sprouting a large, charming grin on his face as he lifted a hand in greeting. The groups hesitantly gave a wave back, opting for small smiles before they went on their way.

Rhysand then looked at you once more, leaning forward to grab your hands in his.

“I’m an honest male. I’m allowed to make mistakes, right?”

It was becoming suspicious now, and you narrowed your eyes at him with pursed lips.

“What did you do?”

He gave you a small, guilty smile, perfect teeth on display.

“I bought them flowers, right? Just a sweet, classic, gesture to show them I was interested.”

You resisted the urge to laugh. It was, indeed, a sweet gesture, but Cassian’s words from earlier in the week rang in your mind, his joke about flowers being a boring move-- a boring Rhys move. You didn’t hide your amusement well enough, though, and Rhysand narrowed his eyes at you, tapping your hands lightly to draw your attention back.

“What?” he said.

You shook your head, giving him a small, inconspicuous smile. Then you offered him a shrug. “Nothing. Keep talking.”

He kept his eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he gave up, letting out another dramatic-Rhysand sigh. “But apparently, I gave each of the flowers to the wrong twin. And now they’re mad that I can’t tell them apart. I mean, they’re identical, Y/n. As amazing as I am, I’m no god.”

You let out a small snort, staring at him with an amused smile. “You can literally read minds.”

He opened his mouth. And then closed it.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

You laughed, readjusting your hands so now it was yours that lay otop of his. You gave a gentle pat. “But that’s wrong. So you need to find a way to differentiate them, at least if you want to keep whatever it is you have going.”

“It’s fun,” he said, as a grin began to grow on his face. “One female is great, but sisters?” He let out a small whistle, “Whole other experience.”

You grimaced. “Rhysand,” you scolded, “Don’t be such a male. I was going to offer to help you. I take it back.”

“No, no,” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. He then gave you a pout, “Please.”

You held his stare for a moment, watched as he titled his head and gave you an innocent, charming, boyish smile.

“Fine,” you finally said, “But you owe me.”

Rhysand grinned, large and broad, as he sat back into his chair and picked up the small desert on his plate. “I always do,” he said with a gleam in his eye, bringing the croissant to his mouth.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It took you a few days, four to be exact, before you were able to fulfill the promise you’d made to Rhysand. It was nighttime now as you finally returned to the townhouse for the day. From down the hall, you could see the dim faelight pouring out from Rhysand’s office, his door wide open.

Once you reached the doorway, you perched yourself in it, leaning against it as you cleared your throat.

“Leyra is slightly shorter and has two dimples. Kerala has shorter hair, one dimple, and a freckle on her chin.”

Rhysand looked up from his papers, sitting up right in his chair with a smile on his face. “Have I told you how amazing you are?”

You gave him a grin. “Add it to the list.”

Rhys laughed, tilting his head as he took in a relaxed breath. “Thank you.”

You gave him a small nod of your head as you began walking out. But before you took a step to leave, you popped your head back into the view of the doorway, wrapping your hand around the edge of the frame.

“Kerala also has a freckle on the inside of her right thigh. Kinda looks like a little heart.”

Rhysand’s face furrowed, and then his mouth fell open slightly. He narrowed his eyes.

“How do you know that?”

You grinned at him for the second time that night, giving the frame of the doorway a pat with your hands. Then you shrugged. “You never told me how you wanted me to help.”

Before Rhys could register your words, you were walking away, your figure disappearing from his open door.

When it finally hit, Rhys let out a small chuckle. Then, he shrugged to himself, returning to his work with an amused smile.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

bat boys tag list 🫶🏻: @willowpains @maevecrom @vansaddy

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haruchuiyo · 3 months

Text

la vie en rose

longing touches and lasting feelings. maybe your feelings for your husband really are reciprocated.

content: NOT SFW + MINORS DNI! + fem!reader + established marriage + implied arranged marriage + reader wears a nightgown + little miscommunication + pining + n!pple stimulation + oral (f!receiving) + handj0b + no protecting we going raw! + neuvillette is so dreamy

word count: 4.7k+

paragraphs in italic is what happened before present time

—

One could say Neuvillette is a blunt man, a harsh one considering his job or a man of few words. But they’d never figure out just how torn apart that said man is over the woman, he’s watching, his lovely and dear wife, smiling as she is talking to her friends.

Or the way his touch seems to linger when he touches your hand, or the small of your back. Or the way his ears redden in colour when you flash him your pretty smile, which he thinks about every minute of the day. Or the way you’re the first thing he thinks about when waking up and the last when going to sleep. Or the way he needs to be close to you at all times. But he still can’t figure out how to show all that to you.

Little does he know about the longing glances you give him, the urges to take his hand in yours and just be with him. To tell him of your day, to tell him how proud you are of him as the Ludex of Fontaine. How much you wish to tell him what you feel for him. Or the way your heart flutters when he simply just looks at you or the way he always holds you to his side in crowd gatherings.

Just how frustrating it was for you two.

You were standing in front of the mirror, trying your best to unlace your gown by yourself since you and your husband Neuvillette sent home the staff for today. Lightly groaning to yourself, you give up and was about to ask Neuvillette for his help but stopped in your tracks. Would he find this okay? Unlacing someone’s gown feels intimate to you. Even if he’s your husband, your marriage has never been consummated because your union as husband and wife was arranged.

You turned to face the door when said man you were thinking about is at the entrance. You must have forgotten to close the door in a haste of wanting to get rid of your gown.

“Sorry, I must have frightened you but I heard some discontent noises as I was passing by. Is everything alright?” He asks as he stands there politely, his hands by his sides as he’s watching you. He looks good in his clothes and you’re fiddling with your hands not knowing what to say but shy to ask him to help you unlace your dress.

“Everything is…quite alright.” You let out an embarrassed chuckle before lightly biting down on your lower lip, missing the way Neuvillette’s eyes fluttered down to your mouth. He’d be damned if you could read into his thoughts, seeing just how much he wishes to take your lips in a kiss.

“Good, I’m glad everything’s alright. Then I shall go and take a rest for tonight.” His voice was polite and your heart is racing. You’re beating yourself up as you see him back away and was about to walk away before you called for him, by his name. He takes steps into your bedroom and reaches closer to you. At your husbands taller figure, you imagine how much you need to stand on your toes to be able to give him a proper kiss on the lips. Or he could lean his head down to meet you halfway. Heart racing at the thought, not helping with your current situation.

You hold your hands together in nervousness. And flustered too, this man is making your heart feel like it’s gonna beat out of its place.

So you turn around and you see your reflection in the mirror. He is so close behind your back and you see how his hands fidget by his side.

“Will you help me with the lace?” You softly ask as you feel his breath hitch. You turn your face to your side to look at him over your shoulder and he slightly nods his head. “Of course, anything.” He answers.

“It’s quite difficult for me to do it alone.” You let out a slight nervous chuckle. And you hear him chuckle from behind you too. And when you feel his hands on the back of your dress, your own breath hitches. And your heart beats and beats the more you feel him untangle the laces at your dress. And when you feel it’s loose, the dress falls down on the floor in a circle around you, leaving you only in your chemise. And you feel how hot Neuvillette feels behind you. So much warmth and heat, you let out a soft gasp when you feel his finger touch your bare back.

At your gasp, he removes his hand in a haste and you groaned to yourself internally for giving such a reaction.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” He apologized profusely, clearly feeling regretful and you just wanted to yell at him to touch you more and that you don’t mind it. But how brave were you really?

“It’s quite alright.” You shortly say and Neuvillette nodded his head. “Is there more you need help with?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, I be fine but thank you.” At your words, he nods again then leaves your bedroom, leaving you alone in a space he so rightfully has a place in.

—

Neuvillette thinks of the first time he met you. It was the day you two were to meet each other for the first time after deciding you two were to be married.

He was taking a stroll in the mansion when he stumbled upon you, laying on the floor while gazing up at the ceiling. You looked peaceful and Neuvillette found himself wondering what you must be thinking of gazing at that ceiling. He looks up at it as well, seeing the ceiling in intricate ancient designs, the pattern flowering around each other nicely.

He don’t know what took over him, but he took one step that was a bit too loud which startled you. Upon seeing him witnessing you laying on the bare floor, you hastily sat up, your hair a mess and your eyes widened in shock with your dress puffed up around you.

“Mr Neuvillette, I didn’t see you there.” You mutter out an apology after and Neuvillette shakes his head. “Just…just Neuvillette is fine. And it’s quite alright, I should be the one apologizing for disturbing your peaceful time.” He retorts back and you look down on your intertwined fingers, giggling. Neuvillette felt his heart flutter that moment he saw you smile as you giggled.

“May I ask why you’ve taken a spot on the floor?” He asks and you look up at him, surprised.

“If you joined me, you’d see why I’ve done so.” You smile at him and it was Neuvillette’s turn to be surprised. And he gives a nod.

He laid himself on the floor quite politely, patting out his clothes so they don’t tug as he lays down, his head hit the floor gently.

“It’s cold.” He says simply, hearing you chuckle.

He feels how cool the floor is, the weather outside was sunny and warm, making him feel stuffy. And to combine that with his nervousness of meeting his future wife, it didn’t help with the heat.

“And it’s quite nice, isn’t it?” He hears you ask, he turns his head to face you. Your eyes were closed and there was a soft smile on your mouth. You looked serene.

“Indeed, it is.” He mumbles out softly, still watching you.

To think about that day, he realized he’s fallen for you since and doesn’t plan to get up. You’ve had his heart since the first moment he met you, seeing you on the floor gazing up at the ceiling.

And here he is, in your bedroom after you’ve called him in. You’re standing there, awaiting an answer. An answer for your question.

“Do you have feelings for me?” You had asked before he went down the memory lane. You were gripping onto your robe, still in your night clothes. All Neuvillette could think about was why you would ask that of him. And what kind of question is that.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” He answers, further adding onto your frustration. You let out a soft groan, your eyes wavering as you speak to him.

“I’m asking if you, my husband, have feeling for me. Your wife, Neuvillette. You avoid me like the plague as soon as you’re close to me.” There’s frustration laced in your voice. Neuvillette feels confused, his mind, usually collected is now splattered.

“I’m not avoiding you.” He says. His short answers doesn’t help with your frustration and you could almost feel anger surging up inside you. He usually talks like this, why are you so angry? Maybe because he’s being so short with you when all you want is a proper talk.

“Then explain the way you avoid my touches. How you avoid me as soon as we get close. How you avoid doing things together, alone. How you seem to be at work far more, even been there for days at a week than at home than—.” You explain to him, words spitting out and Neuvillette feels frustrated now as well.

“With you.” He adds onto your last sentence. You nod. “Yes, with me.” Your voice wavered and he feels his heart constrict. He never wanted to make you feel alone. He only did what he thought and thus acted upon it.

“I thought you didn’t want me there.” He tells you and your eyes widen at his words. “You’ve seemed almost unresponsive to my advances and I believed you didn’t like it, so I put a distance.” He explained. He feels sad and frustrated. The amount of times he wanted to hold you, to hold your hands or your body to his. To able to gently hold your face in his hands and kiss you breathlessly.

“Is the only reason you’ve avoided me?” You ask softly.

“No.” He says.

“Then why would you think that?”

“Because your presence makes me feel things.”

At that, you felt the world stop. Make him feel things? Your heart decides to flutter at that moment. About to speak up, your husband beats you to it.

“Lay down on the floor with me, will you?” He asks gently as he lays down on the floor, reaching a hand out to you. You throat dries up as you nod your head and take his hand in yours and lay down beside him on the floor.

“The first time I saw you, you were doing this. Laying on the floor, gazing at the ceiling like it was a work of art, admiring each and every detail and looking at it like how no one ever does.” His voice was soft, as he tells you of the day you two first met. You remember that day clearly. He startled you with the way he stepped so loudly and when he joined you on that cold floor on that sunny day, you’d thought maybe your marriage with him wouldn’t be so bad.

“You’ve had my heart ever since that warm sunny day, my love.” He turns to face you, taking your intertwined hands and placed it on the spot his heart is. “You’ve taken my heart like a storm, making me fall for you every day since. And I tell you, I don’t decide to let these feelings fade.” At his words, your heart constricts and your vision feels almost blurry. You see him reach out his free hand to wipe away your tears. Tears. You’re crying.

“I’m sorry to leave you alone, to make you feel alone because you were not. Even if I wasn’t with you physically, you always had my heart with you. But it doesn’t justify how I left my lovely wife wondering if I love her. Because I do.” He smiles, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and you let out a soft chuckle, happiness streaming all over in your body.

“I’m sorry, my love. I truly am.” You shake your head at his words. “Don’t be, you have quite made up for it right now.” You tell him with a small grin and Neuvillette smiles at you.

“And I havent been so good to you either, always gasping and flinching as soon as you touch me. And it’s all because you make me feel things as well. And things only you can —“ You have no idea what made you look into his eyes, but when you did and what you saw, you felt shivers running down your spine as heat surged up inside you.

“—fulfill.” you finish with a stuttering voice.

He leans his face in closer to yours, rubbing his nose against your own. Your heart beats faster and your stomach a fluttering mess. When he lightly grazes his lips on yours, seeing how you didn’t back away, he presses his mouth against yours taking you in for a kiss.

His mouth was soft, lips moving leisurely against your own. You can’t believe you missed out on this all these months since the wedding day. A first proper kiss with your husband. A breathless one. When he tilts your head upwards for better access, you moan into the kiss and you feel him move his body closer to yours, pressing his front against your own. And he pulls away, leaving you both lightly panting.

“Do you wanna take this to bed?” You shyly mumble. You see his cheeks lightly redden in color before he nods, leaving you a hot mess.

Laying down on the bed, resting your back against stacks of pillow, Neuvillette was inbetween your thighs. You see him gulping on air as his eyes flicker all over of you. You had taken off your robe, leaving you only in your white nightgown. You looked breathtaking in the nightgown, the gown hugging your body so perfectly. You reach your hand out, to hold onto his and tugging on towards you. He moves closer to you, you shudder feeling his warmth, looking up at him, nervous but excited.

Neuvillette felt his heart beat so fast when his chest pressed against yours but he felt relieved when your arms circled around his neck, your breast snuggled against his chest and he kisses you again.

Both of you moaning into the kiss, you felt your husband move his hands up and down your sides, holding your waist before groping onto the flesh the more your kiss deepened. Neuvillette wasn’t sure what it was that made him act upon it, but he believes it was an instinct to move his body against yours, rubbing his throbbing erection against your heat.

Trembling against him, moans slips past your mouth when you felt him rub up against you while he slid his tongue deep into your throat, the kiss sticky and loud but so good. He nips on your lower lip, kisses the corner of your mouth before placing one another kiss on your lips again before pulling away. You lightly groan, missing his kisses then you see how he’s trailing his hands up to the straps of your dress, his gentle touches making you shudder in anticipation and then he pulls them down your shoulders. The upper half of your nightgown slips down your body and you look at Neuvillette to see his reaction. He’s enamoured with the sight in front of him.

He brushes his fingers lightly over your perky buds, his eyes glancing at your face when you gasp softly at his air light touch on your tits. Then he rubs his thumb over your nipples before reaching his face down to take a bud into his mouth. Your back arches at the feeling of his tongue licking and flickering your nipple with the tip of his tongue, while his hand plays with your other nipple. Your hands go to grasp onto his blue horns and when he sucks on your nipple, you lightly pull on his Neuvillette’s hair, tilting his head back making him groan against your tit. Then he gives the same attention to your other one, sensations running all over your body with the way he works his tongue on your tits. Before he pulls away, he kisses the mound softly, nipping before lightly biting down on the skin, leaving a mark. He looks at the bite mark he left and feels proud of himself.

You tug on his nightshirt, telling him to take it off. Obeying your demands, your husband takes his nightshirt off and you see his blue dragon tattoos on his arms up to his shoulders, the pattern swirly but so beautiful.

“So pretty.” You mumble softly as you touch the pattern before looking up at him. His eyes glistens and his face seems to flush in colour. He takes his breeches off, leaving him in his undergarments only. Your eyes flicker down to the clear erection on his undergarments and your body flushes in heat.

You sigh in content when you feel Neuvillette touch the edge of your nightgown before holding onto your thighs, making you slide on the bed and be pulled towards him. You giggle at the action then see how your husband has a serious face on. You reach a hand out to touch his face, he nuzzles his face into your palm like it was a reflex and kisses the inside of your palm before looking at you.

“What is it?” You ask gently while stroking his cheek. He lightly shakes his head then gives up and starts sighing. You get confused at his reaction before his words both surprises you but also makes you flustered.

“We haven’t consummated our marriage.” He says and you gulp on nothing as you nod in agreement. At his words alone and the way he turns quiet when you nodded, you get what he’s trying to say. If you want to consummate it now. Asking for your consent about it. Your heart flutters at his caring gesture and you cup his face with both your hands and pull him down towards you.

“I have wanted you since we met, dear husband.” You softly say against his mouth and Neuvillette’s eyes widens in surprise. “Really?” He asks and you giggle, pulling away while giving him an expression of ‘you’re so silly’.

“Of course silly, I wore a cute nightgown on our wedding night but you didn’t see it.” You tell him softly and he lightly pouts. “Can you show it to me next time?” He asks and you giggle again, kissing the tip of his nose before nodding.

“Next time.” You confirm and he smiles at you before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Then kisses the spot there before trailing kisses down your throat to your cleavage. He pushes the nightgown down along the way as he kisses. He takes it off when he reaches your navel, you lift your legs up so the dress is off you properly. And now you’re bare in front of him and he can’t stop looking and touching.

His fingers trail along your body shape, he lightly squeezes your tits feeling the weight in his hands, muttering so many ‘beautiful’ as he explores your body. All you could do was take in the good feelings his touches gave you and how good it felt hearing his praises.

You pull on his undergarments before tugging them down his thighs and he takes them off properly before seating himself in between your thighs again. His cock sat prettily against his lower abdomen, there was a slight precum on the tip. Before you could stare at it further, Neuvillette kisses you on the mouth then presses more kisses down your entire front to your cunt.

“May i?” He asks, his hot breath fanning over your bare cunt. “Yes.” You breathe out before your toes curl onto the sheets when he take a tentative lick over your pussy before flicking his tongue over your clit. The sensations too much, you push the heels of your feet into his back as you grip onto his hair. His licking is ravening. If you just try to squeeze your thighs in on his face, he pulls them further apart not letting you move your limbs at all.

He rocks his bare erection against the sheet, moaning at the way you taste in his mouth and how you so tightly grip on his hair. Then he pulls a single finger in and hears you gasp from above him. When he slides in another finger, he feels your thighs shudder while you let out sweet noises and moans after another, his favorite sounds in the world. He keeps thrusting his fingers inside you as he sucks and licks on your clit before sending you over the edge.

You came so hard all you could do was stare up at the ceiling panting. You missed out on all this all these months of not touching your husband? You internally beat yourself before looking down, seeing Neuvillette still inbetween your thighs, softly kissing the inside of it and giving your cunt one last kiss before he moves up and connects his chest with yours. You see his chin is wet with your cum and the way he licks his lips before he takes your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulls away with panting and moans while leaning his head against your shoulder when he feels you take his cock in your hands and move your hand up and down it.

“Darling, if you keep that up I might not be able to contain myself anymore.” His words are strained as he moans against your neck while gripping onto your waist. He lightly thrusts into your hand, feels you rub the tip and he groans and comes with a bite on your skin. Spurts of cum lands on your stomach as Neuvillette breathes hard. When he sees his cum on your body, he is finding his virility outstanding. But when he sees you lightly spread his cum on your abdomen to your cunt, his breath hitches and he looks at your face. You’re biting on your lower lip with an expression of you clearly know what you’re doing and how it’s affecting him.

So he takes your mouth in a messy kiss and you squeeze your thighs around his waist and he rubs his cock against your bare cunt. You moan against his lips when you feel him brush up against your clit and you swear you felt the tip almost slip inside. You whimper against his mouth before he pulls away. He holds his weight on one arm as the other holds onto his cock and he looks at you, you nod your head and he takes that as consent to slide inside your heat.

Slowly by slowly, he fills you up. Every second of that has you gripping onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his shoulder blades until he is fully inside you. Neuvillette lets out a deep breath and looks at you.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” His voice is soft and curious, his touches gentle on your skin as he waits for your answer. Your body flushes at his question. “At the thought of you?” You ask quietly. There was a small silence before you see a slight nod from his head. “Yes.” Your answer was simple yet you felt so flustered. You let out a slight gasp when you feel how his cock inside you, feels like it’s growing bigger. “Oh-“ you didn’t manage to say anything when you feel how Neuvillette is softly pressing down on your abdomen.

Feeling him grow bigger inside you has you feeling a lot at once and your honest answer to his question adds onto the streams of pleasure in your body. You cover your face feeling flustered and shy, he gently uncovers your face, planting a deep kiss on your lips, you moan when you feel him twitch inside you.

“Don’t ever cover yourself around me.” He says against your skin, nipping softly at your sensitive spots before he slowly thrusts inside making you moan while holding onto his tighter. Your hands trail up to grip onto his hair as he continues to thrust into you, his cock hitting sweetly inside you.

He grabs onto your arms and pins them against the bed, his knees pressing into the mattress as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper inside you, hitting places you’d never think off to do yourself.

He reaches down by your ears murmuring sweet praises of ‘such a good wife’, ‘you feel so good’ and ‘taking me so well’. When he mutters “I’ve been dreaming about this every night.” You claw onto his back, stimulations running up and down your body at his words as he holds onto both of your arms with one hand, while his other goes to knead onto your tits, loving the feeling of their weight in his hands.

You arch your back when you feel him take a nipple in his mouth, kissing the bud and you squeeze your thighs tighter around his waist at the way he’s having you. Then he pulls away to kiss you, the kiss so messy and of fervour. You feel Neuvillette all around you. So big and so safe while he’s driving you crazy with the way he’s moving his hips against you, so in control of his body and the way he’s kissing you like a man starved.

You just take it all in, kissing equally as fervently back and snap your thighs around his slender waist tighter as he pounds into your cunt harder and harder. You feel him reach a hand down to rub on your clit and you moan against his mouth, feeling this knot in your abdomen about to release the more he rubs onto your clit and fucks into your harder until the knot releases and you cum hard. You cry out a moan, gripping onto his hair as you come and Neuvillette joins you shortly after, groaning against your lips with his eyes shut close in ecstasy and holds your hips with both of his hands and cums into you. He fills you up to the brim with his cum while gripping onto your hips.

Then you feel him panting against you, his warm breath on your face and you see him open his eyes and he looks all over you with a blush on his face, sweat visible on his forehead and his hair messy from your constant grasps on it. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he smiles you before you let out a breathy giggle and he finds you so endearing.

“What is so funny, my love?” He brushes his nose against yours, trailing the tip of his nose down your face to your jaw while still inside you. You hum in content before lightly chuckling.

“Was thinking that I missed out on this for so long, could’ve solved our little miscommunication so easily.” You grin at him and Neuvillette stills in surprise before his face looks like they’re filled with amusement.

“Or I should’ve done this the day we got married.” He tells you and you pretend to ponder playfully while humming. “Yeah you should have.” You nod your head and Neuvillette chuckles as you grin at him. He holds your face softly as he runs his thumbs over your cheeks, looking at you fondly and with so much love. Your heart flutters and you wrap your arms around his upper body, hugging him to yourself.

“I love you, and I will tell and show you that everyday.” He presses a kiss on your lips. “For the rest of my life.” He kisses you again and you giggle.

“And I shall love you for the rest of my life as well.” You tell him and Neuvillette smiles at you before turning you two around so you were atop him. As he did that, you felt him move inside you. You lightly whine in pleasure and you felt him swell up and twitch inside you. You widen your eyes and when you feel reach his hands down your butt, you lightly yelp resulting in you squeezing around him. Neuvillette lets out a soft groan before he looks at you, his eyes wandering from your face, lips to your tits down to the bite mark he left before his fluttered up yours, a slight gasp leaves your mouths when you feel move your hips, him still lodged inside you.

“Oh, you bewitch me, my lovely wife.”

—

this was a long piece of just going raw damn-

hope you enjoyed this! if you’ve come this far, a reblog and like would be incredibly appreciated<3

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin smut #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette #neuvillette smut #neuvillette scenarios #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette x reader

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buckets-and-trees · 6 months

Note

Mob Bucky walking into the kitchen and picking you up to carry you out to the bedroom when you spent whole day cooking. You argue that you still need to bake two pies and make a salad, or something, but Bucky doesn't care.

"You spent the past two days on your feet. Now you're gonna spend the next twenty four hours on your back. Maybe on hands and knees, if I feel like it."

Hahahaha! Because we WOULD. But it's our chef heart!

Fandom: MCU Collection: Devour Title: CUSTARD Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 687

Content Warnings: referenced smut (vaginal penetration/fucking, oral: female receiving), mob boss Bucky

Logistical Notes: Takes place after the series (shh, I know I'm still working on the final chapter). Prompt from the ask in bold italics, and notching a Naughty prompt from @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge in plain bold.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

James was calling your name, but you didn’t hear him until he was in the kitchen with you.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t register the dangerous chill in his tone either, too busy skimming your fingers back over the recipe you were studying, frowning back at the mixture in the metal bowl whipping up in front of you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, completely focused on your work, “will you taste this?” You reached for one of the small spoons in a jar on the counter, dipped it into the bowl, and held it out for your mob boss.

He crossed the kitchen and was at your side in an instant. You only looked his way briefly enough to thrust the spoon into his mouth just as he opened it to speak again. You reached for another spoon to taste the custard’s current status for yourself.

“It definitely needs the nutmeg,” you murmured, wondering why the recipe you were referencing didn’t have any listed.

“You definitely need to be out of this kitchen!” James ordered.

You whipped your head back to glare at him. “I promised I would bring pie to the brunch, James.”

“And you’ve already made one.”

“But I didn’t make that pie for the brunch! It’s the backup pecan pie, and everyone deserves to have pie that was intended for the brunch. Pecan pie is not a proper brunch pie,” you argued. “I really should make a fruit pie to go along with this buttermilk pie, too,” you added for yourself, tone dropping back to your concentrated cooking tone.

“No! I forbid it!”

“You forbid it?”

“Yes, I forbid it! Against my better judgement, I tolerated you cooking the holiday meal with our families, but you spent the past two days on your feet when you’re supposed to be off, chef.”

He pulled the spoon out of your right hand and the spatula out of your left, flung them onto the counter, and flung you over his shoulder.

“James Buchanan Barnes!”

He didn’t speak as he walked you out of the kitchen and down the hallway. You squirmed a bit – knowing with all his strength there was no way he would let you fall, but also wanting to protest over being dragged away from your task.

He tossed you unceremoniously onto the bed and was on you immediately.

His large frame trapped you beneath him, though you tried to squirm away. He took each of your hands and pinned them in one of his above your head, while his other hand grabbed your jaw and angled your face for him to perfectly capture your lips in a kiss. He forced his tongue against yours, and immediately you could taste the sweetness of the custard still lingering in his mouth. He kissed you until you stopped struggling, softening beneath him. He released your hands, and you wound one around his neck and the other through his hair. His free hand didn’t stay free for even a second before it was palming your breast through your shirt, and you moaned.

Finally, he broke of the kiss, but only moving his head back a fraction of an inch.

“Damn you,” you breathed against his lips, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he knew he’d demanded and earned your utter and complete surrender.

“You’re going to spend the next twenty-four hours on your back,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then drew the heat along your jaw and down your neck. The desire in your core was fully ablaze, and you could feel how wet you were already growing between your thighs.

He nipped at your collarbone, and you gasped.

“Maybe on hands and knees if I feel like it,” he added as he ripped the front of your shirt open.

The audacity of this man! you thought while you could still think.

An audacity that you gladly put up with until well after midnight as he had you cumming more than once on his cock, then woke up to first thing with his head between your thighs.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I PROMISE ONE DAY I WILL FINISH THE FINAL CHAPTER, I JUST CAN'T HELP IT THAT PEOPLE KEEP SENDING FANTASTICALLY INSPIRATIONAL ASKS THAT TURN INTO THESE LITTLE ADDITIONAL SCENES FOR THEIR FUTURE!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #aspen wrote something #aspen asks #eva #eva is such a menace #devour au

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comfortless · 3 months

Note

so. please consider: König is a prince (yeah we aren’t going full king this route, maybe he has an older brother or some complications having the throne to himself but either way he has some power just not all of it lol) and reader is part of a performing troupe that usually acts out plays outside of the castle. he goes out to watch them and becomes so desperate for her that he gets /her/ to perform as /him/ when the plays are about his heroic deeds or whatever.

i have had this idea stuck in my head for days and i just know you can bring it to life 🩵

the evil little König in my head took over. no one look at me. 🥩🏰

prince!König x fem reader.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. dubcon. mentions of adultery (not committed by reader or König), corruption kink (virgin!König), cunnilingus, light roleplay, scent & praise kink, smut (piv), reader is kind of evil here (König still manages to be worse), allusions to abduction.

“You are certainly lovelier than my wife, the Queen!”

He had his sword drawn, not high enough to elicit panic, but just enough to know that yes, there was a very present threat. This could be a bloodbath in an instant. Speak another word — he won’t refrain. He feels his teeth grit, grating, ash in the mouth and in the air.

The actors are unaware where they are stood on stage, and the mass of bodies surrounding barely take note of their Prince. A phantom. Loathed thing that he has always been. More hated than even their lecherous, stupid king. There’s only one thing he’s good for and it’s never been politics; there’s no need to garner up public appeal when your stage is a foreign field littered with blood and corpses.

Another insult to his poor mother and the city could be one too.

From a small wooden booth acting as a prop depiction of a brothel, steps a woman. Barefoot, bare flesh, the only thing she wears is a breast band and a loincloth of finely stitched lace. She isn’t a whore, not in truth, but she looks the part of the women his men rush to the second they’ve returned home. Ale and sex in abundance, and he’s never had the focus for the latter after a round of the former.

He watches as she sways, draws her hand to her forehead and bats her lashes while her other trails up her thigh to the hem of the piece concealing her womanhood. She stops with a laugh, turns to the crowd with sparkling eyes and says, “You lot should not cheer! The Queen surely deserves better than a womanizing fool!”

König’s never been one for plays, how tactlessly they slander the royal family and make jest of current affairs. This troupe, though… he thinks it’s done in taste. Or maybe it’s just her.

Even as the aging performer with his weathered face and messy gray beard acting the part of his father rushes to the pretty thing on stage and paws at her waist, König can not tear his eyes away.

The scene reaches its end when the brothel is burned, enacting something horrible the king had done several springs ago. Bereaved, the woman returns to the stage and bares her breasts, monologuing so sweetly as she feigns tears for her fallen sisters.

König swears to be nothing like his father but he still finds his trousers fitting more tightly at the sight, not foul enough to touch himself here, if ever at all. His heart aches with each fragile word spilled from those plush lips, and his cock demands further engagement with each gentle sway of her body and heave of her round tits.

His sword slots back into place at his hip when the scene comes to an end: the crowd a storm of laughter, the fire of the torches illuminating the street flickering, the actors dissipate behind the wooden stage, and all at once the play is over.

Tactless and impulsive, he thinks to thank her for not furthering the set-up for a joke, looks the part of a proper fool when he makes his way backstage where she’s sat wiping away carmine from her cheeks. The actress’ eyes go wide and hazy when she catches sight of him towering over her, the cloth and mirror slipping from her hands to rest on the table.

Of course, she takes it as a warning, asks him if he would prefer they only act out the current affairs— the recent siege of the southern kingdom, maybe? Or a story about the harvest festival? The gods or beasts? Anything she can sputter out to the man she easily recognizes as being the Prince.

König only finds himself further endeared when she dips her head as if ashamed and moves to conceal the bare skin of her stomach as though it would be insulting to see her in such a state of undress.

He excitedly tells her about the siege, of how he slaughtered those treasonous men and so valiantly brought their women and children to the capital to live much more honest lives, boasting while she looks on in acute, wonderous horror. That’s what he chooses, even pulls his hood from his face and drops it into her lap when he tells her she has to play his part.

The actress explains to him, docile and sweet, that she’s never played a male role and certainly lacks the stature to accurately represent him of all people. To which, he laughs, bids her a farewell with a flick of his wrist and wanders back out into the cobblestone and muck to finish up his patrol of the city.

A fortnight later, she returns to the stage in hastily put on armors, his veil hanging proudly about her head, a wooden sword clasped tightly in her hands. The crowd watching laughs at her expense as she tries in earnest to perfect the way she imagined his sword must have danced during that siege. The male actors fall with each tap of the weapon’s tip, and her voice takes on a forced, deeper tone when she speaks her praises to the kingdom she’s pilfered glory for.

König only sees fire, not in the flames of torches but lain out before him, a heat that courses from the picture of this beautiful little doe on stage straight down to simmer in his chest, his stomach. She’s so cute, pretending and doing her best just to appease him that he finds himself backstage again once the play concludes.

It’s just to talk, to congratulate her on a wonderful performance. He even presents a hefty sack of gold coins to her when she returns his veil, and she marvels at the donation, takes each piece and turns it in her fingers for a time before setting the little bag on the table.

Her brow scrunches for a moment before she settles on offering her hand out to him, fingertips ghosting over his upper thigh, loitering on the armor shell protecting him and drifting further up until he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. Surely then, the actress comes to realize that her prince is as pure as the sisters in their temples.

She breathes out a laugh and shakes her head.

“I mean to pleasure you, my Prince,” she says, less meek now and more insisting. Her hand draws back to remove the prop armor from her body, eyes never leaving his own.

Though he considers the woman’s offer heavily, pulse stampeding and heart aching, he does eventually will himself to voice a weak refusal.

Never does he keep himself holed away from her for long, even after; König returns for each play whilst his men go about patrolling the city for prowlers and thieves. He watches each performance and continuously seeks her out backstage after. They talk each time, with him offering his suggestions and her clamoring for excuses as to why, no, she isn’t fit to play his role for another fight or some drab court meeting.

Finally, the same song and dance proves too much.

This night, there is no play and König still finds himself in the room cluttered with set pieces and props. The other actors have gone about seeking their own affairs for the evening; bedsides to coax comfort from or mugs of ale and bowls of bone to drown themselves in whilst gambling away the coins the hungering crowd has thrown their way.

She sits with him, perched up on her little table wearing nothing at all. Her skin is lit aglow by candlelight, the incense burning bathing all in the welcoming, warm comfort of lavender and rosemary. There’s ash in his chest again when he finds himself at her side, already aching with a want that should not exist, one that he would deny in full with bared teeth and blurry vision.

Only, she doesn’t prompt him with questions when her palms splay flat at the chest of his tunic, just grins like a wolf given a fat leg of mutton when she feels him begin to tense. She assures him that she’s only teaching him to act after demanding that he kneel, catches his jaw atop her hand and guides his face between her thighs where he then pants and groans at the foreign, enticing scent.

It awakens something in him, something bathed out and buried in blood, the very same that courses through his veins like a violent river now. A feral look and an iron grip on her hips that would leave bruises is all she gets. All until she hisses out the words, “I am your princess and you will do as I ask.”

The first lick is hesitant, clumsy, his stubble grazed over her most sensitive parts as he slips his tongue across the smoothness of her slit. He doesn’t have an idea of what he’s doing, only enacting the vile things he’s heard men about the castle speak of, how to properly take a woman apart and push her to not only want, but to need.

Mostly, she’s unimpressed.

When he gathers her taste on his tongue, he becomes a man possessed, ripped away from duty and sovereignty and brought down to the lowness of mere swine. He groans into her cunt, laps and suckles at anything his tongue and lips can touch, savors the sight, dewy and swollen when he presses a kiss to the bud that finally does get her to purr.

“Sweet boy..,” she coos to him when her hands find his hair, petting him so gently as he continues to lap at her clit. “You’re taking such good care of your princess, yes?”

His mind blanks entirely, driven forward with a renewed, feverish vigor as he dismantles her wholly with a drooling mouth and an unrelenting stare. Rationality should have pulled him away before it ever got to this point; she’s a peasant, and he can’t run amok fathering bastards and condemning himself to Hell for a simple woman. But that’s all beaten back by her taste, the way she writhes in his hold, keeps whispering her praises and lacing those soft fingers through his hair… no amount of devils or men could pry him from her cunt.

Only she does when her voice comes in a pant and her grip tightens to pull him back. The table, his face, all sticky and wet with what must have been her very essence, drawn out by a man lacking experience but so unknowingly eager.

“Take off your clothes,” comes her next demand, one he obliges with a great hesitance.

The tunic is pulled away with shaking hands, the tie of his trousers next. He mutters a curse below his breath when his cock springs free, so erect and angry it looks painful. The tip drools just as much as that fluttering heaven between her legs, pearly beads of preejaculate leaking down to stain the fabric and further condemn him to this impromptu fate.

He jerks when she wraps her hand around him there, whines when she leans forward to kiss its head.

“I can’t…” His voice sounds weak to his own ears, pathetic and miserable as he makes a mock attempt at prying her away with a gentle press to her shoulder. “My princess… we should not.”

He’s almost certain she’s a devil herself sent to exact some punishment upon him when her lips curl up into a grin and she lies back with her knees drawn to her chest. She speaks such words to him then that he would not dare to ever repeat, songs only the unknown could sing. An angel, perhaps, when she slips a finger into herself to demonstrate to him just what should be done… there, with panting breaths and whispers of heaven.

And finally, when his cock throbs and kicks at the sight, all resolve is entirely lost. He positions himself over her where she guides the tip of his manhood to her slit, praises his size when his hips give an involuntary twitch and he slightly dips into her, sampling her warmth and the resistance from something so thick pressing into her.

His world crumbles at the sensation, cobblestone replaced by the raging heat of brimstone and an obscene lust that clouds his mind and leads him to spear her open to his hilt.

He finds holiness in their union, bites back a roar when her walls tremble around him. She only laughs when his teeth find her shoulder, only sings more hymns into his ear as he fucks into her cunt at a reckless, brutal pace. The words don’t register, far-away and distant amidst the roaring tide of sensation. She’s so tight, so wet and yearning, quivering beneath him and clawing down his back.

“We shouldn’t, hm?,” she whispers in his ear, teeth grazing the lobe. His strokes become even sloppier, each thrust stuttered and heady when the sound of her voice pulls through the haze of bliss. “My sweet boy is so good at this, though…”

His voice is nearly a wail when he loses himself fully then. He holds the back of her thighs, fucks himself through an orgasm that leaves his head spinning and his body shaking as though he’s come down with some wretched fever. And perhaps he is ill, because he can’t bring himself to think of anything more than the divine rapture of stuffing his seed into the warmth of her pussy, can’t bring himself to pull his cock out of her even when he begins to soften.

His face is buried against her neck, professing his endless love as he breathes her in and ruts into her over and over until his cock is once again stiffened and drooling inside of the very cunt he would die to keep.

Surely, when her troupe begins to pack to drift further out into the kingdom for their performances to be seen… he could accuse them of slander, have the old man playing the part of the lecherous king executed, the others thrown into rat-infested cells, and the little princess tethered to his bed to warm his heart and his cock.

He will kiss away her tears, tell her that all could be forgiven if she would only let him make an honest woman of her.

#könig x reader #tw: dubcon

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1d1195 · 1 month

Text

Ding - Round 4

Read Ding here | ~4.7k words

Warnings: angst, fluff

From me: Sorry for the delay. Honestly, might be for the best. I know this is a little shorter but I think it will help spread out some of the plot points I have planned for parts 5 and part 6. I think it might be a little rush but I promise hope it will be worth it.

Summary: Cupcake wants a proper date. Harry wants a Cupcake for dessert.

Harry was fresh out of college when he took out a loan and bought the gym. It was a steal, an investment, and exactly what he wanted to do. He didn’t have a lot of staff—in fact, Harry taught a lot of classes, cleaned the showers and toilets as much as possible. He got Niall and Louis to help as well. Once he was settled a little more, he got his college roommate, Mitch and his girlfriend Sarah to help as well. His own little family. Niall managed it most of the time and while he still liked to teach classes and train with Louis, he hired a few more staff members (and honestly? Even though he hired a few custodians, he didn’t mind cleaning the bathroom every now and again). His family was his life and he tried to maintain a proper balance which required a certain number of employees.

But adding in the sweet girl that dinged his car threw him for a bit of a loop. A good loop.

Louis was insistent he focus more on his training. Any time not spent teaching classes or going over the paperwork in his office was spent training for his big fight. He was going to be boxing a guy from a few towns over; someone also undefeated. It was being publicized as their own state’s match of the century. Harry didn’t care truthfully about it. He just wanted to remain undefeated. Harry was competitive and he would rather never box again than lose his undefeated record. The added bonus of Driven getting more publicity wasn’t a bad part of the deal either.

Truthfully, the part where he might win $100,000 was also a bigger influence on him than he was willing to let on. The fame of the fight had sponsors and publicity, and more good stuff for him than he wanted to believe he could have.

Harry wanted to give his niece a substantial chunk of money to kickstart her college fund. But even still, he would have plenty to give her and then he would consider, finally, purchasing a house—which seemed silly because he nearly lived at Driven and if he wasn’t at Driven, he was at his mum’s...or Gemma’s with the baby.

But that pretty girl with an apron and sprinkles had him thinking about all kinds of future things. Like a house with a fence. A garden that they could have picnics in during the summer with a dog that needed to be walked two times a day but didn’t mind lounging with them among the flowers while they read. A massive kitchen where she would bake cupcakes for their little ones when they had birthday parties and—

No, he just wanted to win.

Maybe if he had lost at some point in his career he would have felt differently. But the “0” in the loss column made him cocky. He was good, and he knew it. Harry was smiling at his phone, a picture of his sweet niece smiling for the camera while he went over the bills for the current month. There was a knock right outside his office.

“Hey,” Niall smirked. “Your class is about to begin.” Harry was dreading it. They had chatted a lot more and gotten a lot closer than they previously were, but the class made him irrationally angry. Maybe it was the space and just knowing why she was there, that had him so grumpy. “Thought you would want to see her,” Niall murmured when he didn’t respond and also looked like someone pissed in his cereal.

He sighed, putting the bills into a folder for later. He thought about taking them home and dealing with them while he watched a show before bed. Since he’d been teaching her self-defense moves, he found himself riled and angrier than normal—especially after her class. It made it difficult to focus on bills and his calendar when she was there feeling unsafe. “Course I want t’see her,” he mumbled.

Harry stepped out of his office and headed to the room with Louis. She and Louis stood close together speaking quietly, like two old friends. She was smiling brightly, looking adorable as ever. Her T-shirt was bright blue. It said A Pinch of Sprinkles across the back and was littered with sprinkles like rain over the design. Louis caught Harry’s eye and then tilted his head toward him. She turned to face him. It was like a reflex and her smile was so bright, Harry couldn’t help but feel better than he did when Niall alerted him about the class. He felt all the anxiety and frustration leave his body and he headed over to her.

“Hey, Cupcake,” he put a hand on her arm gently giving it a friendly squeeze. “How was your day?” He asked.

She smiled in return. “Good, relaxing. I went to visit my dad.”

He thought so. He may or may not have spent his lunch hour being creepy and noted that her car wasn’t in the parking lot near A Pinch of Sprinkles. Nor was it there when he drove by in the morning on his way to the gym...and if he ran his four-mile cardio workout outside rather than on the treadmill to see her car still wasn’t there right around the four o’clock shift change then who would really know?

“S’nice,” he smiled. “How is he?” He asked.

She hesitated ever so slightly that if Harry wasn’t so focused on her, he might not have noticed. But before he could ask more about it, she simply nodded. “Good,” she offered. Harry needed to remember to circle back to that when they were alone. He wanted to know more about her family and why she seemed so guarded at times.

Which reminded him of what he really wanted to talk to her about. “Hey, Cupcake, would you want to—”

“Alright, let’s get started everybody!”

Harry was looking forward to “accidentally” punching Louis tomorrow during his training session. He sighed. “Stay a minute after class?” Harry asked and headed toward the front of the room.

“Since this is the second to last class, we always offer to have a bit of a celebratory send off the final class if you are interested,” Louis said knowingly. Harry was looking at the floor, then picked the lint off his pants. The grumpiness he felt with Niall returned rapidly. There seemed to be a long pause while the group decided if they wanted to celebrate next week. “Oh, thank God, love,” Louis sighed causing everyone to laugh. “You don’t want Harry or I baking for the masses.”

“I can make cupcakes,” she promised with a giggle.

Harry looked up realizing she was offering her kindness to a bunch of strangers, bonded through their own traumas and the need to feel empowered because of it. His lips curled into a smile. Even though he was still a bit frustrated. It was kind of her to offer. He wasn’t surprised. Someone that worked with sugar that much had to be sweet.

“Can you make the chocolate chip ones?” Someone asked.

“The blueberry lemon ones are my favorite, it’s a shame they’re a summer flavor.”

“I can...” she laughed lightly, and Harry felt so warmed by the sound; all the frustration he felt melting off him. “I can make a list before we leave.”

Harry truly thought there was no one sweeter.

It killed him she was in this class learning to protect herself. Especially now that he knew why. But as mad as it made him, he was so happy to see her. Having her in the class was just more time he got to look at her and note how beautiful she was. Her strength, her resilience, all these qualities he instantly admired as he got to know her more and more. That first night where she dented Clay seemed like ages ago, not months. He was wound around her finger, and he didn’t care.

They went through the moves they learned the weeks prior and discussed more scenarios. Harry had Louis help her more when she needed it. Frankly, it was too hard for him to do it without getting irrationally angry. “You want t’make sure you’re continuing t’practice these moves even after the lessons end,” Harry told the group as their time was ending for the night.

“So, we should be fighting our significant others over the dishes?” Someone called from the back of the room. It caused everyone to laugh once more, and Harry chuckled.

“No, not what I would suggest,” he snickered and even though there were at least fifteen other people in the room, Harry could pick out her giggle among everyone else’s.

“We’ve discussed a lot of reflexive moves and how a lot of the fight back instincts that take over don’t always help you get away,” Louis continued. Harry’s face returned to its neutral position. Although if she was asked, it was one of the sourest expressions she saw on him. But she was intently listening to Louis repeat the spiel once more. “Remember that’s your goal: to get away and find help as quickly as you can and as safely as you can.”

Harry didn’t dare look at her.

She stood next to Sarah’s desk taking down orders for their celebration the next week. It was a long list. Harry wasn’t a baker nor the owner of a bakery, but he knew that if they came to her store, it would have cost a pretty penny to sell all that was listed on her slip of paper.

“I can pay for it,” Harry offered coming to stand in front of her.

“Oh God, no. Don’t you dare,” she smiled and shook her head. “You’ve made all of us feel so safe and so empowered. It’s the least I can do—besides, it’s almost blueberry lemon season so I need to practice anyway,” her shrug was casual as she crossed out different parts of her list and added tallies to the other parts. “Maeve and I can handle it. I usually end up giving the leftovers to a homeless shelter anyway, or the nearby nursing home.”

Harry wondered if she was magic. Made of flour and sugar herself that was dipped into all her treats at that bakery and decorated with a pinch of sprinkles. There was simply no one as sweet as her. He was certain.

She watched as Harry’s eyes softened around the edges as she spoke. It felt warm and nice to look at Harry so intensely. He was so handsome and so kind to her. No one had made her feel so safe in ages. Not even Louis who propped her hands and feet into their proper positions and told her how to execute a stomp to someone’s instep.

“Cupcake, do you want to—”

“I’m sorry, Harry, one second,” she held her hand up toward him and turned her attention to a girl from their class. “Did you say Jack?” She asked.

Harry tilted his head curiously but watched as the recognition on the girl’s face blinked in surprise. “Uh...yeah?” She held her phone out to show a picture. Harry watched as her whole body stiffened and she glanced away. “Why?”

She bit the inside of her lip. “Look, I don’t want to prevent you from having a nice time, but he tried to force me back to his place. I would feel horribly guilty if I didn’t tell you. Maybe it was just a me thing. But I think I would like to know ahead of time. He’s why I’m here, taking lessons,” she looked at her pleadingly. “One girl to another,” she offered. “That’s all I want to say. I’ll mind my business now.”

The girl looked back and forth at her then the phone curiously. Her friend was silent.

Harry was shaking again. His hands clenched into fists. He saw the picture of him. He tried to place him in her bakery the other day and couldn’t identify where he was. Harry stalked off toward the back room without another word to her or the other ladies.

His focus was on making his way for the punching bag as quickly as he could to release the stress and anger he felt. He didn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation, nor did he want to. He hoped that girl took her advice and didn’t go out with him. It would serve that sorry excuse for a man right, and of course, most importantly, keep her safe. Harry would lose his mind if he found out he hurt someone else the way he hurt his sweet sprinkle girl.

His breath was a series of uneven pants. Not the regulated breathing he practiced while he trained with Louis. His emotions and frustrations clouded his head taking over instinctively. When he finally ran out of breath with one final punch he stopped, held the punching bag, and rested his forehead against it trying to relax his breathing.

Softly, she cleared her throat. Harry blinked, his eyes opened and turned to the sound. “Sorry,” she whispered. He steadied the swaying bag and looked at her, his eyes intense and as focused on her as ever. “I know you...” she sighed. “I had to tell her.”

He nodded. “I know.”

She paused awkwardly standing in the doorway. “I’m okay,” she offered. “Actually... I’ve learned at least five ways to incapacitate you to get to the front and tell Sarah to call 911,” she smiled weakly hoping it would make him smile.

It didn’t.

Biting the inside of her lip, she felt a wave of anxiety come over her. He was too mad right now. She should have just left. “Do you want the raspberry filled?” He continued to stare at her. Unspeaking, unmoving. Her heart felt sad that he didn’t want to talk to her any longer. “Um... okay... I guess... I’ll see you around, then, Harry.”

It felt like he was holding his breath until that moment and then released it as if all the air in his lungs had been there since the day, he met her and whooshed out of him for a good thirty seconds. “Cupcake,” he murmured running a hand over his face. She turned back, stood far away from him as she could without being in the other room. “I’ve been trying t’ask you on a date all night—well, for days really. And... s’jus’ not the right time—never the right time. We keep getting pulled into other conversations. Or training or your timers for cookies. Then m’mad or m’tired or—”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Harry stopped speaking. This time he thought he had stopped breathing altogether. “Yes, what?” He asked.

“I would love to go on a date with you,” she answered. Her cheeks were pink—he could see how flushed she was by the concept.

“You would?”

“I’m glad you’ve been doing the repeating lately,” she smiled.

“Are you sure, Cupcake?” He ignored her joke. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable; and I know I’ve been a lot... Plus your last—”

She closed the space between the two of them and pressed her lips to his cheek. He tasted like salt from the sweat that poured over him throughout the day. He was in desperate need of a shower. “I would really like to go out with you, Harry,” she repeated softly. “Whenever you want.”

Harry swore his heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”

She nodded, still smiling. “I would really like that,” she promised. Harry sighed with relief.

“Tomorrow? I’d like to take you t’dinner,” he offered.

She nodded. “I would also like that,” it was the happiest she ever felt in her whole life.

The guilt of it was overwhelming.

“Good night, kitten,” he cooed softly.

“Night, Harry,” she headed for the door again. Harry watched, smiling after her as she turned in the doorway. She leaned against it, her hand pressed to the frame, and she tilted her head against it. “You’re going to kiss me, right? After our proper date?”

Her smile was so pretty, Harry felt light-headed. “I hope so, Cupcake.”

Harry did kiss her.

In fact, he kissed her so much they didn’t even have dinner at the restaurant. He could hardly stand how pretty she looked he couldn’t leave her doorway when she opened it. She had spent the better part of an hour fixing her hair into a perfect style rather than the stringy, rainy mess he saw the day he met her. Or the way her hair was almost always up and out of her face to deal with baked goods. She put on extra makeup too. She felt beautiful—but Harry’s reaction made her feel... gorgeous.

He put a hand over his heart and smiled, stepping back a pace to take in how beautiful she looked. She laughed at his dramatics. “Wow,” he tapped his hand over his heart. “I thought y’were beautiful with the apron and sprinkles.” She laughed; her pretty cheeks turned pink. He put his hand against the top of the doorframe and leaned in toward her. “M’not going t’make it through dinner, Cupcake,” he shook his head. “Can I kiss you now?” His eyes were soft.

“Now?” She whispered back.

He nodded his eyes focused on her lips. “Repeating again?”

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll take y’after.”

Honestly, she didn’t think there would be an after if they didn’t go now. Harry looked unbelievably good. He wore a pair of dress pants and she had only ever seen him in sweats and shorts. Those did things to her heart that she didn’t know the dress pants would do. His button down was tucked into his pants, and he looked like he was ready for an interview. He was so handsome.

“I’m pretty hungry now,” she told him, her eyes dancing flirtatiously.

“Me too,” he answered and leaned closer. His forehead rested against hers. She could feel the exhale of his breath against her skin. “May I kiss you, Cupcake?” He asked. She nodded breathlessly. He shook his head. Rested a hand on her waist and pulled her closer to him. “You have t’say it, kitten,” he encouraged softly. “M’not messing around with this,” he assured her. “I’ll give y’anything y’want, but y’have t’say it,” his voice was so gravelly and low she felt it in every inch of her nervous system. She shivered involuntarily and nodded again.

“Please kiss me,” she whispered so quietly he barely heard her.

But he did hear her. Harry would give her anything she wanted so he pressed his mouth over hers, and it felt like he was supposed to kiss her. The way her lips felt against his, the exhale of her breath against his skin. It all felt so perfect. His hands rested on her hips, and he tugged her closer to him, so she pressed snuggly against his body. Her hands came up to the sides of his neck, her fingertips curling to the back of his head and sliding into his hair.

“Your hair is so soft,” she whispered when they broke apart for air. Harry chuckled and kissed her again, his lips slotting between hers and he brought an arm around her back leaning toward her, so she tilted back just so slightly. “Can we go inside?” She whispered.

“Do you want me inside?” He asked against her lips.

She nodded quickly. “Very much.” Harry didn’t break from her lips to push her inside the doorway. She slipped out of her shoes; shoes Harry didn’t even get to look at because he was so distracted by how much he wanted to kiss her he couldn’t take in the rest of her and how pretty she looked. He took a moment now to note her dress, all black with some buttons and a tie sinched around her waist. It fell to just below her knee but left room through the slit for him to see part of her thigh.

She was stunning.

“God, Cupcake, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured went back to kissing her. His hands roamed over her waist making her insides turn to mush wherever he touched her. She shivered again letting her tongue run over his lower lip as he kissed her. He groaned into her mouth. Her hands held onto his belt loops, tugging him closer to her. She could feel the way their kiss was affecting him. It made her want more to feel his arousal.

“Can I...?” She swallowed pulling from his lips and her hand started for the front of his pants.

“Oh fuck,” he croaked.

“I...” she looked at him nervously. He made consent sound so sexy but she felt stupid for asking.

“Yes,” he nodded firmly. “Whatever y’want, Cupcake, m’all yours.”

For whatever reason she thought of Niall saying how Harry was whipped for her when they hardly knew each other. He called Harry her boyfriend and now she wanted to take his belt off and rip his pants off.

Was it too fast? She didn’t let Jack take her home and she knew him about as much as she knew Harry at the time. Was she overreacting? How could he ruin this moment even though...? How come—

“Cupcake?” Harry asked quickly. “Y’okay there, sweetheart?” He asked softly. She blinked in surprise, realizing she spaced out as her thoughts reeled. Harry was holding her face gently. “D’you want to stop?” His pants were unzipped and unbuttoned—she didn’t even realize she had done that. Her fingers tucked into his beltloops once more, ready to pull them down further. The Calvin Klein band poked out from his shirt and the shift of his pants falling lower on his hips. Harry was staring at her nervously. Her gaze was blank as she looked back at him; as if she was unsure of her own actions. “Kitten?” he repeated and removed his hands from her face. He tugged her fingers loose of his loops. “Can y’talk t’me please?” He asked, separating them a bit more. He pulled his pants back up, zipped and buttoned them. “You’re making me nervous, Cupcake...” he trailed off eyeing her uncertainly.

Her heart felt sad for him. He was so gentle, so nice, so careful. He steered her to the couch, putting space between the two of them. The only part of him that touched her was his knee bumping into hers. “Sorry,” she whispered, finally.

Relief rushed through him at the sound of her voice. “There’s nothing t’apologize for, Cupcake,” he promised reassuringly.

“But you’re—” Her eyes looked at the bulge against the zipper of his pants. He shrugged.

“S’not important.”

She disagreed strongly. That bulge nearly made her mouth water but as much as she needed her brain to focus on it, her mind had other ideas. “I just... need a minute,” she leaned back against the sofa and sighed. She stared at the ceiling, her hands covering her face. Harry was hot. He was so kind. His lips tasted like sunflower oil—perhaps it was his chapstick. He smelled so good and looked so good. It was unfair that someone from nearly a month ago could continue to ruin her date.

“You can have all the time in the world, Cupcake,” he continued to assure her so soothingly, it made her heart melt. “Did I do something—”

“No,” she shook her head and looked him straight in the eye. “You didn’t do anything,” she promised.

He sighed with relief and leaned back beside her and smiled. “Good,” he draped an arm along behind her head across the back of the couch and kissed her temple. “Take your time, Cupcake. M’not going anywhere.”

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat trying to break her esophagus open wide. “He ruined it,” she whispered.

“Ruined what, sweetheart?” Harry’s voice was so soft. Like the way it felt to snuggle in bed on Christmas Eve when she was little. It was so comforting. It made her feel safe. She sniffled and turned her face away from where Harry was.

“Our first date.”

“No, he didn’t,” his voice was still soft, but the tone was firm. He was certain when she very much wasn’t.

“But I want to—”

“I know, Cupcake.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Do I want t’have sex with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met before we go to dinner?” He asked bluntly. “No, sounds like a terrible waste of m’time.”

She blushed, closed her eyes; still turned away from him. “I don’t know who this most ‘beautiful woman’ is you’re talking about. I just see a snively baby.”

He snorted. Gently he coaxed her to turn her around and look at him again. His expression was still gentle, and she was sure he wanted to be mad. She wondered what kind of self-control that took. Maybe it was the Oxytocin covering for him.

“Show me,” he murmured.

“Show you?” She repeated.

Harry smiled. “Practice.”

“Practice what—oh. Oh,” she looked at him in confusion. “You want me to practice my self-defense moves?”

“I like when y’repeat me,” his eyes were warm, smiley on their own.

“I’m wearing a dress.”

“Look, I could say m’dying t’know what’s under your dress if that will make y’feel better.”

“Harry!”

He pushed off the sofa and moved the coffee table toward the side of the room. He grabbed her hands pulling her up, so she was standing in front of him.

“Well, t’be really honest, Cupcake. You’re not going t’have much say in the matter of what you’re wearing if y’need t’use the moves,” he reminded her gently, he cupped the side of her face and looked into her eyes as if his life depended on it. She gulped in response. He was so intense. It made her forget every one of the moves she was supposed to practice. “C’mon, it’ll make you feel better...and me, honestly.”

“You?” She questioned.

He didn’t even comment that she repeated him. “Want t’know you’re safe, Cupcake,” he skimmed his thumb along her cheek. “Always.” She grabbed his hand against her cheek and smiled at him.

Then swiftly she pulled his arm behind his back and twisted it up. He chuckled peering at her over his shoulder. “Good. Again.”

After a while of practicing her moves, Harry ordered pizza. He took his jacket off and described a series of moves she could try that she hadn’t learned in the class. She took them seriously; the little pucker of her brow made her so adorable—Harry wanted to kiss her.

“Let me make brownies,” she offered heading to the kitchen and mixed the ingredients within minutes of opening her cabinets. It took maybe ten minutes and soon her place smelled like brownies. Once the pizza was delivered, she pulled out seltzers that Maeve left behind after a girls’ night in. She put on a reality show about baking that she watched two years ago when she was sick with the flu. “The cake challenge is my favorite part,” she told him.

Harry had his arm around her, her body slumped into his embrace, and she snuggled deeply against him. He was so happy to be curled up on the couch with her. It was like they had watched TV together for their whole lives. Had been spending date nights in for twenty years. It made him unbelievably at ease.

Eventually, without realizing, they fell asleep on the sofa. Harry woke up with a slight strain in his neck that he was certain Louis would be pissed about, but the sight of her sleeping beside him made him smile. He scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom. “Are you kidnapping me?” She yawned.

He chuckled, kissed her temple. “No, Cupcake. Putting you on the bed. Want you t’be comfortable. I’ll go back on the sofa.”

“You don’t want to sleep with me?” She pouted.

He chuckled. “I do,” he promised. “Do you want me to sleep with you?”

She nodded. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“No,” he shrugged. “Do you?��

She shook her head. “Do you want to stay here?”

“Always, Cupcake. Always.”

taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl

@michellekstyles @just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows

@hannah9921 @fangirl7060

ding: @ell0ra-br3kk3r

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

298 notes · View notes

lokideservesahug · 15 days

Text

Bound to falling in love

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Mick Schumacher x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Unsurprisingly this won the vote. But I hope you like it :)

Summary: Mick Schumacher has been extremelyprivate with how soulmark his whole life. But what happens when the interest does ehat its best at, snooping. Well Mick Schumacher might just finally meet the celebrity that he doesn't at all have a tiny crush on...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: WE ARE SO BACK BABY!!🖤🖤 Mercedes CCH 2024 Incoming (I'm delusional)

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 756,986 others

View all 533 comments

User1: I knew Y/N was an F1 girlie but I didn't know she was a Mercedes girl🤔

↳Yourusername: Have been for ever🖤

User2: Y/N is like me fr eith that caption

↳User3: Fr though😭 Like wdym 2nd place in sprint doesn't mean Lewis will get his 8th!?

↳Yourusername: Maybe he performed so well just to improve his ex-husband

↳User4: LMAO Poor Nico

Lewishamilton: Glad to see your support lies in the right place💪

↳Yourusername: OH my gosh. Sir Lewis Hamilton. It is an honour to speak to you

↳Lewishamilton: Maybe you should come to the Mercedes garage some time. I think certain people would love your company👀

↳User5: I think he just killed Y/N

↳User6: Wa she talking about himself or someone else. George perhaps? I'M so nosy!!!

↳User7: Well Mick is in the likes so that's where my money is...

↳User8: Sure grandma, the mkst soul ate obsessed obsessed In existence is caught up over Y/N...

↳User7: I mean it is Y/N Y/L/N

↳User8: True...

User9: Mick being in the likes👀

↳User10: Meh even if he does have a thing for Y/N, he'll still stick to his soulmate like he has done for decades.

↳User11: Hear me out, Y/N is his soulmate...

↳User10: Girl actualy shut up

↳User11: Just look at that twitter thread

↳User10: Hmmm interesting. It looks like it could be possible but the chances are 0.001% of it being her. Just because one user recognised it doesn't mean it's her

User12: Is anyone else really confused by all this talk of the twitter thread and that "one reply"

Liked by Yourusername

↳User13: basically people are trying to find out who Mick's soulmate is and currently people think it's Y/N

↳User12: OH... how random

↳User13: Yeah but tell me they wouldn't make the perfect couple...

Liked by Yourusername

↳User14: Y/N liking this comment + its replies twice is wild and shows she's as curious as us...

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Mick's phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Your phone | Mick's | Your phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: This guy wouldn't leave me alone in Italy. He says he's in the family business of driving cars or smt

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 1,023,987 others

View all 674 comments

User1: NO WAY.... DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES

↳User2: Girl probably? Hopefully? Idk?

User3: We don't need confirmation now...but also we so do!!!

User4: Awww they really are perfect for each other!🥺🥰

Liked by Mickschumacher, Yourusername

Lewishamilton: Glad you two finally found the time to go on a proper date rather than letting Mick ogle you all day!

↳Mickschumacher: Thanks for that man...

↳Yourusername: Aww Micky, you stare at me all the time?

↳Mickschumacher: How can I not Schatz, you're the most gorgeous person in the whole world❤❤❤

↳Estabanocon: How sweet 🤢

↳Mickschumacher: Aww just let me be in love this once.

User5: Ugh he's so bf coded

Liked by Yourusername

↳User6: I SEE YOU LURKING Y/N

User7: did you guys see Mick say love? Ooh is this a new word added to the equation or....

Liked by yourusername

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

New story from Mickschumacher

(My darling, my soulmate. Finally all mine to love)

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smau #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher soulmate au #f1 soulmate au #ldah's writing #f1 smau

311 notes · View notes

pinkanonwrites · 1 year

Text

Over 4 Miles Away

That’s how far away a crocodile can smell blood! Unfortunate for you, having a pretty rough time of the month and a bothersome crocodile fae as a close friend. Can’t he take it easy on you for once?

Sebek X Reader Period fic! AFAB Reader, they/them pronouns, period comfort, minor scolding (it is Sebek, after all)

1,700+ Words

"Human!"

You weren't sure if Sebek had been calling for you for a while or not, as the general chatter of passing time made it hard to hear even his booming voice over the crowd. But the frantic intensity with which he grabbed you sure made it seem like he had been. Like a flash, he wrenched you away from the doorway to your Magical Analysis class, leading you down into a nook in an adjacent hall even as the bell rang and students began to frantically shove into their respective classrooms.

"What the hell, Sebek! You can't just yank me around whenever you want." You snapped as you rolled your sore arm in its socket. Usually you'd be a bit more lenient to Sebek and his general antics. But not today. Today you were not in the mood.

Apparently, neither was he.

"I expected better of you, human! Do you truly think so little of us, your fellow classmates, that we would not think to consider your state of health? Personally, I find myself rather offended by your perception of us!"

"What are you even talking about?! And stop yelling!"

"Your injury! You would really choose to hide an injury from your fellow students?"

"...Sebek. I am not injured. What even gave you that idea?"

He scoffed, tilting his head away from you and crossing his arms in a huff. "And now you lie to my face? I certainly know better, human. You've smelled of blood since the moment you stepped foot onto campus."

"Blood? But I'm not-?" Your words ground to a halt, a painful twang in your stomach reminding you of why you were just so irritated in the first place.

"Frankly I'm surprised no one mentioned it to you earlier. It should be painfully obvious to every Beastman on campus."

Oh.

"Many of the fae as well. Those with acute senses at least."

Oh god no.

"Regardless, as your classmate and friend I felt it my duty to express my disappointment in… H-Human? Are you… crying?"

"No!" You were, but just a little. Tears of frustration and humiliation pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were tired, you felt like shit, everything hurt, and apparently half the school already knew about it without your permission. "I'm not injured, you stupid jackass! I'm on my period!"

"...Oh. Oh!" You could watch the realization bloom on Sebek's face in real time, eyebrows crawling up his face and cheeks blooming red as his expression twisted from distaste and disappointment into some type of embarrassment… or maybe horror? "So- So you are not injured then! That is good!"

"But apparently the whole school knows what time of the month it is!"

"N-Not the whole school! Just the Beastmen. Half the school, at most."

"And the fae!"

"Only some of the fae! Those with enhanced senses, such as myself and Lord Malleus!... And Master Lilia, as well."

Sebek's placations and panicked flailing did little to quell your mood. You just let out a short, pathetic wail before burying your face into your cupped hands, leaving him no choice but to hover awkwardly around you as you spiraled. You barely even processed his rather un-Sebek like ‘uh’s and ‘um’s and stammering, so lost were you in your own humiliation. God, and the day had only barely just begun. You just wanted to roll back into your shabby bed at Ramshackle and sleep until it didn’t feel like your stomach was trying to rip itself out anymore.

But just when you had internally decided to start pulling it back together in time for class, you felt a tense, stern hand rest itself on your shoulder.

“Your current state is not conducive to any proper education!” Sebek barked, clearly attempting to stifle his own fluster although his face was redder than a beet. “Allow me to escort you back to your dormitory.”

“Sebek.” You sniffled, rubbing your cheek hard with the heel of your palm. “I can’t. I still need the notes for this class, and I have to get Grim, and-”

“I will speak with Jack Howl this afternoon and procure a set of acceptable notes!” He insisted, leading you by the shoulder as he began to gently but insistently push you down the hall. “As for your monster companion, leave it to myself to make sure he is suitably disciplined for the day! You have my word.”

Were you simply too caught off guard by his unexpected change in demeanor, or too exhausted to argue? You couldn’t quite say. But it wasn’t until you were nearly to the doors of Ramshackle that you tried to raise an objection again. “You don’t have to do all this, you know. Not that I don’t appreciate it! Cause I really do. I just mean…” You sighed. You could try tiptoeing around what you were trying to ask, but there was really no sense in it. Sebek is the type of guy who is best talked to in clear and direct questions and statements anyway. “You don’t usually go out of your way like this for anyone but Malleus. Why now?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead steering you into the house and letting himself in behind you. He pushed you all the way to the base of the steps before letting you go and budging past you towards the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable! I shall return shortly!”

“Sebek, what are you-?” Aaaand he’s gone. A tiny voice in the back of your brain chided you for letting yourself be steered around so easily, but it was quickly drowned out by the agonized screams of your aching muscles begging for bedrest. You slumped up the stairs to your room, trading your uniform for an unrecognizable band t-shirt you’d gotten from Floyd and a pair of oversized, hot pink sweatpants Cater had pawned off on you from the last care package he’d gotten from his sisters. You couldn’t even attempt to hold in the relieved groan as you let yourself flop limply onto your mattress, springs creaking dangerously beneath you. You heard your phone ping a few times on your nightstand, but couldn’t quite muster up the energy to roll over and reach for it.

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d chosen to lie face down on your bed, but it had been long enough to hear Sebek’s heavy steps ascend the staircase and stop outside your bedroom door.

“You do not have any chocolate.”

“...What?” You lifted up your head to see Sebek standing in your doorway with a silver tray (was that in your kitchen somewhere? You certainly didn’t recognize it.) loaded with what appeared to be a large cup of tea and a bottle of honey, as well as a small bottle of painkillers.

“I was under the impression chocolate was a necessity. No matter, I will acquire you some this afternoon.” As you rolled to make yourself more comfortable Sebek approached, placing the tray on your nightstand next to your phone.

“You don’t have to! I mean, this is more than enough. I didn’t even know I had tea.”

“It’s abysmal quality, but it shall suffice for today. You may take two of these,” He tapped the lid of the painkillers. “But then you must wait six hours before taking more.”

“Oh! Uh, thanks. I will.”

He watched, steely-eyed, as you shook two pills out of the bottle and downed them with a mouthful of sweet, floral tea. Even as you cradled the warm teacup in two hands he stood stiffly, hands folded behind his back, fidgeting slightly whenever he accidentally met your gaze.

“You never answered me before, you know.”

He jolted, eyes shooting to focus on a point on the wall past you where the wallpaper had begun to peel.

“I’m just curious, you know? Why would you go to all this trouble for me?”

“I… I recognize that I acted quite rashly this morning. In my concern for your well-being I failed to take into account any other possible causes, and in doing so had caused you great distress.” In between sentences you could see him worrying his lower lip with his sharp teeth, still refusing to make eye contact with you. “In assisting you I hoped you would consider my actions an adequate apology.”

“That’s… That’s so sweet Sebek. Thank you.” You wondered if you could pass off the heat you were feeling from your face all the way down into the pit of your stomach as a simple warming effect from the tea. Either way, it was a wholly welcome sensation.

“You are a… A very strange human. Despite better efforts I always- what I mean to say is- I can’t help but seem to find myself… Endeared. To you.”

“Aww, Sebek, does that mean you care about me?”

You expected his usual explosive demeanor as a response, an overwhelming burst of words and energy. What you didn’t expect was for his shoulders to slide up towards his ears, face reddening further as he glared at the wall like he was trying to set it on fire.

“Oh.”

“If you would excuse me then, Prefect!” he barked suddenly, erupting into a flurry of flustered movement as he unloaded the tray onto your nightstand in a few panicked motions. “There is more tea downstairs, I will return shortly after making a trip to the school store! If you would please-”

“Sebek.”

You latched his sleeve in between two fingers, keeping him from fully escaping you, and you could see him visibly gulp. You tugged him closer, gesturing for him to lean down to you, and when he did you planted a soft kiss upon his burning, pink cheek.

“Thank you Sebek. If it’s worth anything, I‘m pretty endeared to you too. Despite better efforts.”

As he pulled away you saw his straight-set scowl curl upwards into a wobbly grin that he failed to hide completely, bringing a fist up to his mouth to cover it with a faux cough.

“Do not think I will allow you to make a habit of missing class! Simply consider this an extenuating circumstance.”

You laughed, slumping comfortably into bed. “You got me, I’m just buttering you up so you'll let me slack off all day… That was sarcasm, by the way.”

“I am perfectly aware of what sarcasm is!”

“Really? Could have fooled me.”

“Prefect!”

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt imagines #my writing

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velvetcloxds · 10 months

Note

if you're too shy- send me a character and a scenario and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

Enemies to lovers kinda thing where reader or spencer admits feelings accidentally, like a slip of tongue maybe.

I'LL KEEP YOU WARM | S.R.

word count: 1.6k (stop)

warnings: one-bed trope, fem!reader- also I didn't literally have them say ily but he does admit to not hating the reader and in fact caring for the reader which is basically ily in enemies to lovers

You had spent nearly an hour next to Spencer considering the very creative and unprofessional things you’d planned to text Penelope in the morning once you could charge your phone on the jet, all of which would surely be forgotten in the morning, but it was a very good distraction from your current situation. You and Penelope had a general disagreement about the status of your relationship with Spencer Reid, your partner for the last few months. You were sure without a single doubt that he absolutely hated you, Penelope believed that what felt like hate was really pent-up tension that needed to be released- by putting the two of you together in one room with only one bed, she had clearly decided it was time for the tension to be released.

You were lucky the case had taken so much out of the team, neither of you thinking too much of the little double bed you were stuck in, just skipping through the shower and crawling under the questionable sheets. Spencer was asleep by the time you got into bed, and you were quite grateful he didn’t have to witness the sight of you shivering in the skimpy Bambi pajamas that should’ve been thrown away ages ago. How were you to know on the night you’d be there it would all of a sudden be cold? Basically, the sleeping arrangement wasn’t all that encouraging to sleep, you were cold, in the bed with someone you found alarmingly attractive that just so happened to hate you, and being in said bed with him meant you had to leave your comfort stuffed animal in your go bag.

You were careful when you rolled over, knowing you’d be much closer to Spencer than you should be, balled up still, holding an extra pillow against your chest and the neon sign just across the street made for good lighting in the supposed to be dark room. He was much prettier like this, you decided, quiet and unconscious, perfect to look at without being met with some dismissing comment or gesture that you’d replay for the rest of the day. Like this you could appreciate the little dimple that dipped right beside his lips even when he wasn’t smiling, or the little beauty marks you wouldn’t see if you weren’t looking for them, or the fact that his hair smelled like pomegranate- you were always sure it was something fruity, never sure which fruit but now you knew, you’d think about him every time you smelled pomegranate.

Your head dipped further into the pillow when he moved, sighed as if something interesting was happening in his head even asleep, of course it would, his hair fell over his eyes, and you had to clutch the pillow tighter to stop yourself from reaching forward and moving the hair away from distorting your view. You wondered as you wondered before what had made him so very set in his distain for you, you’d been very encouraging of all his quirks and habits, in fact you thought they accommodated your own surprisingly well. Yet he’s been acting a proper nightmare since Hotch reassigned the two of you to the same car, as if all of a sudden, your very existence was a thorn in his side and you wished you could remove yourself for his sake but Hotch was adamantly against the paperwork of it all.

“Why do you hate me, Spencer Reid?” you sighed, the question too quiet for even you to hear but you had to put it out there for even a second, shifting into the little cocoon you’d created by tucking the blanket under your bum and around your feet, but you were interrupted. Spencer was still moving, another sigh, much less dreamy this time as he tried to tug on the blanket, probably just as cold as you were, one more tug and you realized he was trying to pull it away from where it was tucked under you, his eyes opened with a disgruntled question.

“Y/n?” it sounded like a mixture of surprise and realization, like he’d somehow forgotten you were there in the first place, or like he’d assumed you’d find some other sleeping arrangements after your shower- you’d tried, Emily wasn’t fond of sharing or rather wasn’t fond of kicking you off the bed through the night and JJ was stuck in a single bed, not like you’d ask Derek or Hotch though the thought had definitely crossed your mind.

“Sorry,” you whispered almost on instinct, moving forward completely accidentally and his tired gaze focussed instantly. “Sorry,” you whispered again, and when you allowed him to take more of the blanket his hand brushed over your shoulder. The shiver it created was both due to the sudden touch and the sudden warmth. “Sorry,” you tried to move back, save him from the cold of your skin.

“You’re freezing,” he noted, and you wanted to explain yourself, apologetic even for your own disdain of the weather but he didn’t give you much time, gently stealing the pillow from your grip and chucking it across the room, silencing your indistinct questions by pulling you against him. “I was waiting for you to get out of the shower and I must've fallen asleep," he explained, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself when he gently guided your head to rest against his chest, on his pillow, in fact, you were sure this was some sleep-deprived hallucination that you’d have to scorn yourself for conjuring. “I assumed that you hadn’t packed for the cold even though I always tell you to.”

“It was supposed to be sunny,” you argued, and he scoffed a soft sound, you felt it against your ear, and you didn’t know what to do about that either. He dragged a finger up your arm, flicked the frilly pink sleeve of your shirt, and shook his head, you felt that too. In fact, you could feel him breathing, could feel his pulse right through his long-sleeved shirt.

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” he fought, and you had to see him, couldn’t let him scorn you with your face buried between his pecks, so you tilted your head back, trying to ignore that it forced your bodies to shift closer somehow.

“And you know more than the weathermen now?” he shrugged, and the roll of your eyes was the closest you’d ever come to taking him on for his attitude towards you, it was also his signal that you were done so he tightened his hold, fighting a smirk when you didn’t fight him. He was warm, impossibly warm considering the room, you wished you could steal every ounce of warmth right from him, and the hand that slid up his arm under his sleeve to wrap around his wrist had a mind of its own and you’d be embarrassed were you not so desperate. “Sorry,” you realized but he stopped you before you could pull away, fingers circling your arm to keep you still.

“Stop apologizing,” his tone was odd, you couldn’t read it, you could rarely read him to begin with but enough to know just how far to stay away from him that day, but this was new, rushed, forced, like he didn’t think it through which isn’t a characteristic the man holds. “I don’t mind, I don’t want you to be cold,” he explained and he made it sound just as logical as one of the little facts he’d share with the team, as if cuddling someone you disliked was entirely logical as well.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not? Why would I want you to be cold?” why on earth was that such a silly thing to expect of him, you shrugged, you didn’t know what to say, like you’d ever for a second considered that the man cared enough to even think about what you feel let alone care about how you feel. “I don’t want you to be cold,” he was softer when he repeated it and the grip he had turned to something so soft there wasn’t even a word for it, like he’d realized what he was doing and in a second it became less about keeping you warm and more just about keeping you in his arms. “I care about you, why wouldn’t I care about you being cold,” Your thumb brushed up and down his skin, too comfortable.

“You care about me?” he’d never admit to anyone, let alone himself how much it pained him to hear the surprise in your voice, the genuine disbelieve you’d feel towards such a simple statement, such an obvious declaration, you were his partner, his teammate, his friend, his- well you were someone he cared about, and he’d made a proper mess of things if you thought otherwise.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t hate you,” you bit your lip, of course he’d heard that, even in his sleep he’s a proper pain in the behind, hear all, know all. “It’s late,” he decided even though he had no clue of what the time was, he just couldn’t talk about this anymore. “We’ve had a long day, you should get some sleep.”

“Spencer." Why you wanted to explain yourself you didn’t know, it’s not like he hadn’t given you copious amounts of evidence proving he disliked you, so why would he expect you'd thought he felt anything else. “I’m sorry,” he scoffed, squeezing you lightly.

“Stop apologizing to me,” his chin rested on the top of your head, the most foreign feeling yet it came so naturally to him, just like leaning into him felt natural to you, like your bodies knew what to do when your minds didn’t. “Get some sleep,” he relished in the feeling of you melting into him, like he was giving you permission to do so. “I’ll keep you warm,” and he did, even when he’d convinced himself to fall asleep, he was sure to keep an arm around you in whatever position you’d shifted to, to keep you warm, only to keep you warm- even when the sun came up, even when the cold fled the room. In the morning he’d wonder when the cold had fled from his heart.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #monique's writing events #monique's event days #right where queue left me

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snippychicke · 3 months

Text

Poppy Seeds --Part Two

Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy.

Dogday/Player!reader (attempting keeping it gender neutral)

Warnings: will touch on the after effects of trauma, but nothing is super explicit. Maybe some unhealthy coping skills (Dogday holding Reader on a pedestal) But otherwise we're giving everyone a happy ending. (Everything is wonderful and nothing hurts)

@twistedcece wanted tagged, anyone else?

Four: Water

It did end up raining later that afternoon. You had found Ollie a fresh change of clothes and had been showing the four around the farm. Thankfully, the day was warm enough that the cold droplets weren’t going to chill anyone too much, though Ollie squeaked as soon as the first droplet hit him.

It was just a light spring shower, but it was still tricky to convince Ollie to come out from the chicken coop he had taken shelter in. It wasn’t until you decided to join the others that he slowly peeked out, sunken eyes wide.

Kissy was twirling in the middle of the drive, her arms spread wide and her smile bright as ever. Poppy had her own arms outstretched, her face tilted up against the tickling drops and a smile on her eternally-painted lips. Dogday was brightly laughing as he pulled you out from the sheltered area to where several puddles were quickly forming.

Seeing you and Dogday stomping in the water looked far too fun for the boy to ignore, and soon he was brave enough to leave his place of safety (to the relief of the hens not used to the small child in their home). IT took him a moment to get used to the constant patter on his skin, but both you and Dogday were becoming him closer with open hands.

Laughter soon echoed in the air as the three of you would stomp from puddle to puddle. Kissy and Poppy didn’t join in --both not fond of getting muddy-- but enjoyed watching the three of you, two acting like overgrown kids and one finally able to act his age.

Things seemed perfect.

---

Later, Kissy and Poppy had corralled Ollie into the upstairs bathroom for a ‘proper’ bath. Judging from the splashing and outraged squeals from Poppy, the boy was still enjoying the new lease on childhood… or maybe Kissy had decided to join in the impishness. You weren’t sure, and was more focused on Dogday anyways.

Your bedroom had its own bathroom, complete with an old large clawfoot tub that Dogday was able to sit in, though it was a tight fit. So you had taken it upon yourself to grab a basin and a few washcloths to scrub his back that was still coated in sticky things you rather not think about while he handled the rest.

“I wish I could have done better on these stitches,” you offered as you gently cleaned around the sloppy uneven stitches where you had sewn his bottom half back on. The thread you had been able to find was a bright neon green and easy to see against his tan hair, and the ‘hide’ of his top half flapped over a bit of his bottom half since you had no idea how else to stitch the pieces together. Sewing has never been your forte.

You swore magic had to be involved, considering that a simple sewing together and undoing the tourniquet had somehow ‘healed’ the connection and he could feel and control his lower body once more.

“They’re fine,” Dogday reassured, currently scrubbing a stubborn stain on his arm. “The fact you were able to fix me in the first place is a miracle in itself, angel.”

“I know,” you whined, unable to stop glaring at the poor stitchwork. “But it’s green. And all wonky…”

He paused to look down at the stitching, a fond expression on his face (though you couldn’t see it.) “I like it that way. It’s a visual reminder of how much you cared.”

Your heart thumped at his words, and you bit your lip. It had been an act of desperation… but he wasn’t wrong. You had cared-- you had been terrified that you would do something to hurt him. To cause him to die no matter what you did. You wanted to save him-- to be able to save someone.

The memory threatened to overwhelm you, and you dropped your washcloth so you could wrap your arm around his shoulders, uncaring that you were getting your clothes wet by hugging him.

You had been so close to losing him. Close to losing your own life. Failing everyone yet again after you had failed years prior.

“Angel?” Dogday managed to shift, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, cradled against his body as you cried. “What is it?”

“I-I-” you stuttered, clenching your eyes as if you could push those memories out of your mind. Not just of him, but of everything. It was like a crack had formed and everything you had stubbornly ignored came rushing in.

“Oh Angel,” he sighed as if he understood, pulling you closer. “Sweetheart. It's okay.”

“How can you call me that?” You choked out. “I-I left all of you, ten years ago. I saw what they were doing and I ran away.”

“You were little more than a child yourself,” was not the answer you were expecting. As if he remembered just like Mommy Longlegs had. “Probably a bright-eyed intern or something, am I right?”

You weakly nodded your head. You had been so excited when your application had been accepted. Everyone was hushed about the project, but they were looking for brilliant minds to help lead the future. You had been chosen out of hundreds of others. You had signed so many non-disclosure and other legal papers you thought it was weird for a toy factory but dismissed it as corporate paranoia.

You didn't realize why until you stumbled upon that first file. Realized the toys looking after the kids weren't advanced animatronics. You hadn't discovered the whole story, but enough to send you running for the hills.

Literally.

You quit everything, and ran away into the woods hoping they would never find you.

“Besides, you came back. And now we're here. Safe.” His thumb wiped at your tears. “Cuddling in a bathtub.”

The last but made you laugh despite yourself and helped bring you back into the moment. You had to admit, it probably looked odd; giant Dogday squished in the tub with you--a full grown adult--more or less cradled in his arms. Both of you now thoroughly wet.

Your laugh made his smile widen faintly. “There we go. I know we'll all have hard days, but as long as we're here for each other, I think we'll get through it.”

Five: Wait

“I won’t be gone long, I promise,” you had said as you climbed into your truck. Without him. Dogday had all but whined at you, unashamed at the puppy-eye expression he gave you. “Day,” you had sighed, leaning out the window to cup his cheek as he leaned down. “I’m sorry, but the back is going to be full when I come back. And besides, who’s going to look after them?”

He should have pointed out that Kissy and Poppy were well able to deal with anything, the two girls were much more capable than they appeared. However, he had quietly conceded and stood back, allowing you to disappear down the steep drive.

That had been early this morning. Nearly five hours ago.

Dogday had barely moved from his spot, waiting to see the sunlight glint off your truck as it climbed the driveway. Or to hear its engine grumble as it approached. What if something happened to you? His sweet angel? He may have been trapped in the factory all those years, but he still knew the outside world could be just as dangerous. Especially to someone sweet and kind as you.

“You’re really whipped, aren’t you?” Poppy spoke as Kissy approached, carrying the smaller doll on her shoulder. “When I said they’d be our angel to come save us, I didn’t think you would take it this far.”

“They saved me,” he answered, his eyes still focused on this distance. He meant more than just his life, when he was strung up like a piece of meat for the miniatures to come feast upon. When he had been so blinded by rage and the need for revenge…

He could still see your eyes through the thick glass of the gasmask, begging him to stop. Your voice as you asked him to spare Catnap’s life because there had been enough death.

“If that doesn’t deserve loyalty, I don’t know what else would.”

“Loyalty. Right.” Poppy sighed, shaking her head. “You sure you’re not suffering from a bad case of puppy-love?”

Dogday paused, his thoughts screeching to a halt at her words. Kissy Missy giggled behind her yellow hand as he struggled with the idea. Puppy love? Certainly not. What he felt wasn’t all warm, fuzzy, yet superficial.

It was deep and all encompassing to the point it almost overwhelmed him sometimes when he looked at you. Whether covered in blood and dust with a look of grisly determination, or freshly showered and wet hair clinging to your face while you laughed, you were his angel. He’d do anything for you.

“Not puppy love… but I do love them.”

Just as the admission left his voice box, he heard the grumble of an engine, and looked down the road to see your old truck making its way up the zig-zagging path, the bed filled with things as you had predicted. His tail slowly started to wag behind him, belying his excitement and joy.

He loved you so much, and he didn’t care if you never felt the same. As long as you let him stay by your side day after day, he’d be happy.

Even if he had to wait sometimes.

Six: Memories

Ollie may have been naive to things you presumed as common knowledge, but when it came to technology, he was a veritable genius. Considering he had to use the old machines to often run and hide from the others in the factory, it wasn’t that much of a surprise.

The scrawny boy was able to help you hook up the various equipment you had brought home with you amongst the tons of groceries. A scanner, an old VHS reader, and an internet router with enough power to accomplish what you wanted.

You hadn’t left the factory empty handed, after all. Dozens of VHS tapes, hundreds of files and loose papers. You had collected every bit of proof you could. And you were going to finish Rowan's work.

“Are you sure about this?” Ollie asked as you popped the first VHS tape to convert into a digital file. “You’re going to be in big trouble if they find out…”

“I should have done this a long time ago,” you said with determination. “Besides, I promised everyone else. They’ve waited long enough.”

Poppy and the others were silent. This had been part of Poppy’s plan all along, after all. Bring the crimes of Playtime Co to light and assure nothing like this happens again.

Yet your hands shook as you scoured for the email address for every news company and journalist you could find. You remembered what Playtime did to Rowan, and while their factory had been decommissioned a decade ago, it was hardly the only one. They were still one of the largest companies on the scene.

Who’s to say that similar things weren’t happening there? More than one had an orphanage on site, after all.

This would certainly be their downfall, and they were bound to come after you if given half the chance. This little piece of heaven that you had these last few days would be stolen away from you…

Dogday leaned on you from behind, lanky arms wrapped around your shoulders while his chin rested on your head. The heavy weight was comfortable, as was the soft scent of vanilla that you had worked back into his fur after his bath the other day.

“Nothing is going to happen to Angel,” he growled softly. “Or any of us. We’ll protect our new home.”

“Our family,” Poppy added quietly, and got a determined nod from Kissy and a cheer from Ollie. You relaxed into Dogday’s embrace, wrapping your fingers around his arms.

--*--

Dogday and Catnap circled each other, growls and snarls echoing in the small chamber. Red Mist filled the air, yet somehow Dogday was still awake. Aware of what was reality and what was a waking nightmare.

Catnap had not expected to see his old friend again after ripping him in half and sacrificing him to the miniatures. All these years and he thought Dogday was with him--with the Prototype-- and only to learn he sided with her. Poppy. And you. The one Dogday called angel.

Dogday finally made the first move, swinging a broken pipe he had been carrying. Normally Catnap could avoid it, but his feet stumbled over the debris hidden in the thick red mist.

“Stop it!” You screamed, voice muffled by your gasmask as you suddenly appeared out of the mist. Dogday nearly slammed the pipe into you, but stopped a hairbreadth away. Catnap was just as stunned as his counterpart as you stood protectively between the two large beings.

“There’s been enough death,” you continued as Dogday lowered his weapon. “I know he hurt you. I know he’s done a lot wrong, but…”

“He doesn’t deserve your mercy, angel,” Dogday growled softly. “None of us do, but especially not him.”

You shook your heads, arms still stretched wide. “Maybe, but I’m tired of all this death. Everyone’s been wronged here. The horrors that you all went through, even before the Hour of Joy. It has to end, and I want it to end now.”

You protected him. Stood up against the Prototype when He came down and tried to end Catnap’s life and steal his body to integrate with His. Catnap vividly remembered the determined expression on your face as you faced off against his fake-god.

You… were merciful. Kind. Real. While the Prototype had stayed to himself, distant from everyone else, you walked with them. You had taken those four away from the factory, swearing to those left behind that help would soon come.

You would save them.

Catnap had to waitfor little less than a week before seeing your promise come to fruition. Not years, or another decade of pain and suffering. Less than a week and all sorts of people were swarming the factory.

You had made everything public knowledge, so the company or anyone else couldn’t just sweep them under a rug and dispose of them. He watched as humans cared for the little ones, offering the food and water that they had been deprived of for so long. PJ Pug-a-pillar, Huggy Wuggy, and others he didn’t know were still alive were pulled from the hands of death and into life. Freedom.

He could have stepped into the light and joined them. He knew the miniatures would be happy about that…yet watching one of miniature counterparts huddle close with its brethren, all of them with juice boxes and blankets, reminded him harshly of what he had done. He had done so much in the name of that false-god…

He had to find The Savior and do what he could to be redeemed.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #dogday x reader #dogday/reader #dogday x player #dogday/player #poppy #kissy missy #ollie

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witchy-scribblings · 11 months

Text

the seasons wait for no one

rengoku kyojuro x reader

synopsis ➳ rengoku kyojuro comes from a long line of skilled blacksmiths. hardworking and talented as he is, it's no wonder he finds an employer at the early age of 20. he's proud of how far he's come, he thought this was everything he had wished for. so what is this foreign longing?

warnings ➳ blacksmith au, slight angst, misunderstandings, smut, (loads of) dirty talk, oral (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, creampie, pussydrunk kyo and cockdrunk reader (hehe), lowercase, mdni!

wordcount ➳ 10.2k

[crossposted on ao3]

he should be feeling grateful for the opportunities that life had brought his way.

don’t get him wrong. kyojuro will be eternally thankful for his father’s teachings, for being well off enough to have the privilege of moving to the capital as soon as he turned 20 and for being given the one-in-a-lifetime chance to work as the blacksmith of one of the noblest families in the region. he knew, in a humble way, that he was hardworking and ambitious, and that those qualities had played an immense role in getting him to where he currently was in life, but he also acknowledged that luck had done its part as well, and he did not take it for granted.

the governor had been kind enough, and if he had been condescending (which he had), the young blacksmith had not taken it to heart. it had been a couple of servants who had given him the tour of his new home, including his workspace which, he had soon found out, was a small, stone shed equipped with a forge, anvil, slack tub and tools, a crafting bench, a wooden table that creaked when he put his bags on it and a bed with a firm mattress and sheets that could definitely use a dusting. the windows were small and let little light in, but the structure was sound and the space overall gave off a cozy ambience than he immediately grew to appreciate.

apparently, their previous blacksmith - a man who went by haganezuka - had been forced to step down from his duties prematurely due to a severe injury, but not without first leaving word of his old acquaintance, rengoku shinjuro, and his family’s historical skill on the anvil. as a recommendation to the governor.

that was how kyojuro had been introduced to his first official job as a smith, and the young man had been downright ecstatic. he was so grateful for the opportunity to make use of his skill, truly.

and yet…

“do you accept commissions?”

you had waited for him to slide the piece of hot metal into the slack tub to make your presence known, and even then it had taken kyojuro a couple of seconds to process your voice. after making sure his hands were free of his current project, he turned to face the door to “his” shed (it didn’t belong to him, by any means, but he did spend most of his time within those sweltering walls) and came to see you, for the first time. you were unfamiliar to him, but kyojuro had gathered enough about the household of his new home to immediately come to the realisation of who was standing just outside his space.

“oh! of course, ma’am. it’s what i do!”

the eldest child of his first employer looked just as he had been described by the servants. you seemed to be a little older than him or, at least, carried yourself with an air of maturity unfamiliar to most people in their early twenties. prim and proper, you stood just outside the threshold, seemingly apprehensive of the suffocating heat that radiated off the smithy.

kyojuro had found out that, the day of his arrival to the manor, you had been away on a visit to a close cousin with your younger sister, so he hadn’t had the chance to introduce himself to either of you; though, he wondered if it mattered, since the rest of the noble family that he had actually already met had spared him just enough time to give him tasks and projects to occupy himself with, to make himself useful. nothing more, nothing less.

but the smile that slowly curled your lips clued him in that maybe, just maybe, you were different than your father and youngest brother.

“wonderful. i would like to request a ring from you.” and the details of the design you had in mind flew over his head because he could only think about how your voice held a gentleness that he couldn’t help but find attractive. that, and the fact that he had only been in your residence for a little over two weeks and he hadn’t had the time to formally get familiar with the crafting bench. his skill had always revolved around objects that were to be used, not admired, and even though he was no novice when it came to making simple ornaments, it was something he’d still need to dedicate some studying to.

the notion of a challenge pumped up the blood in his veins. so much so that he didn’t realize that you were still talking when he accepted your request.

“leave it to me, ma’am! i won’t disappoint you!” if you were annoyed by either being cut off or his booming voice, you didn’t show it. instead, you offered a nod and an amicable smile.

“i will leave it in your capable hands then, mr. rengoku. oh, and i don’t expect you’ll have it finished by the end of this week, since your workload seems large enough already. just notify me when it is done.”

and with that, you left him alone to dwell in the heat and his thoughts. he realized, sheepishly, that he would need to seek you out and go over the details one more time. the idea of spending more time with you, he was surprised to admit that not only didn’t bother him, but he actively looked forward to it. he thought he wanted to bask in your confident presence again, to hear your melodious voice and unravel expressions other than that serene smile on your face.

it felt like a dangerous thing to long for. kyojuro was grateful for how his life had turned out up until then, and yet why did it suddenly feel like his success came hand in hand with a burden?

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

the ring was finished within the next two days, because no matter how much work he had on his shoulders, kyojuro had felt the unshakeable need to prioritize your little project.

the very evening of the day he had met you, he had ventured into the estate and requested your whereabouts to the servants doing some last hour clean-up. he had been directed towards the library where, as he had learned, you liked to spend your evenings before your curfew. you had looked surprised by his sudden presence, greeting him by his family name in a curious manner (and as proud as he was to be a rengoku, he couldn’t help but feel his last name sounded wrong coming from you), and when he had asked for another run on the specifics of the ring, you hadn’t chastised him. no, you had regarded him with an amused semblance and patiently repeated your request for him, and this time, he went back to the smithy with the clearest idea in his head.

that, and the lingering sensation of your hands on his when he had asked to take the measurements of your digits. for the project, of course, and despite his professionalism, he had subconsciously taken note of every little detail: how your hands were tiny compared to his, soft and delicate against the callouses of his fingers, how they seemed colder than his (but he knew that was on him; he had always run hotter than the average), and how they never trembled upon his chaste touch, because you knew the hold he had on your hands didn’t mean anything. you knew, and he should, too.

sleep evaded him that night, for the first time in weeks, and he decided to start working in hopes of ridding his headspace of the conflicting feelings.

and diving into his work had done wonders, until he finally held the results of his efforts and was faced with the reality that he’d see you again shortly. the thought filled him with a concerning amount of excitement. the ring was minuscule in his large palm, and despite not being as skilled in craftsmanship as he was in smithship, he was proud of the way it had turned out. the scarce morning light that filtered through the small window gave it a serene gleam that, he thought, suited you to perfection.

kyojuro had thought that perhaps he should let some servants know that your commission was finished, but a big part of him wanted to be the first person to see your reaction, so he placed the ring snug against the cushioned insides of a small wooden box and resolutely decided that he’d be the one to deliver both, the news and the ring, to you.

he had made sure to get ready to visit your abode, had made himself look (and smell) presentable, but he knew as soon as he stepped out of the shed that he would not need to make the walk towards the imposing estate, because there you were.

the stone shed had been built in a secluded, relatively remote area from the main building, and surrounded by a forest of Japanese maples that, at this time of the year, displayed the most vivid of their appearance, casting a warm spell as sunlight filtered through the red leaves. the most impressive one grew a few feet from the smithy, a large specimen that threw ample shade and offered a leaf-covered clearing that he had been tempted to nap on several times since his arrival. only this time, it was already occupied by the same person he had set out to seek.

“good morning, mr. rengoku.” you greeted him as soon as the crunchy footsteps began to approach you, but your gaze never left the book that rested on your lap. he was certain you missed the way his wide eyes ran over your figure, sitting up against the rough bark of the tree, your hair kept out of the way with a simple hairpin and body covered comfortably in a warm-looking yukata. he would have dwelled in the thought that it felt almost wrong to see a high-standing lady such as yourself sitting on the ground if you didn’t look so breathtaking in the simplicity of it.

“good morning, ma’am!” he returned in his usual loud voice, bowing deeply. the box sat heavy in his hand as he revealed it to you. “i finished your commission, i hope the ring is to your liking.” he reveled in the look of mild shock on your face, like you hadn’t expected him to finish his project in so little time.

he felt an unfamiliar unease as he handed the box to you, and it remained while you opened it and inspected its contents, waiting with anticipation for you to reveal your verdict of his hard work. wordlessly, you plucked the ring from its place on the box and turned it in your lifted hand, letting the soft red orange glow of the forest hit it from different angles.

“it is fine work,” you finally spoke, and kyojuro caught himself from sagging with visible relief, keeping his confident stance. “if a little rough around the edges, but i can tell you put your soul into making it. just as expected from our smith.”

“thank you, ma’am!” his answer was sincere, but automatic, really; the flame-haired man feared to think of why the sight of you sliding the ring onto your finger, and seeing it fit perfectly, brought what felt like a swarm of butterflies to his stomach. he knew the ring didn’t have any special meaning to you, but a weirdly possessive part of him enjoyed seeing you wear a piece that he had made himself.

for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last couple of days, he forced himself to stop that train of thought. he really needed to stop entertaining this sudden infatuation. because it was, sudden and improper and so, so very wrong.

“i hope you won’t mind that i keep commissioning from you in the future.”

he was scared of how much the idea excited him.

“it’d be my pleasure, ma’am!”

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

the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. the autumn season had come and gone without anything of significance to write home about, but kyojuro was the kind of man to find wonder in every little thing that life had to offer. he would draft letters for his family regularly, in his free time, which slowly became less and less as the head of the estate steadily added onto his workload, but he never complained. if anything, he was grateful for the opportunity to hone his skill further, and was pleased to see the visible improvement on every project he completed.

being the extroverted person he was, kyojuro was quick to get along with most of the house workers, soon becoming an esteemed member of their humble circle. he was never late for meals, and the cooks had learned to double the rations since the arrival of the blacksmith, knowing the man to polish whatever amount of food was served to him. and, despite having his own work to tend to, he never hesitated to offer his assistance to the maids, even though they rarely conceded.

within his second month, kyojuro had received his first visit from haganezuka. he hadn’t known the man personally, only that he was an old friend of his father, and despite the gruff disposition he displayed, he appreciated his company. the previous blacksmith came over every two or so weeks to share a pot of green tea and, occasionally, mitarashi dango (because kyojuro had learned the pattern of his visits as well as the older man’s favor for the sweet treat, and would request it made “coincidentally” every time haganezuka was to appear). haganezuka claimed that he only visited because he would go insane without nothing of substance to do at home otherwise, but kyojuro had learned that this was the man’s way of admitting he enjoyed his company as well.

his letters were always long and thoughtful, always wishing good health to his parents and dedicating extended descriptions of the passing seasons to his cherished brother senjuro. while the maples still displayed their vibrant red, he would claim fallen leaves to attach to his letters.

he never wrote about you, as much as he itched to scribble on and on about his growing admiration (crush) for the eldest daughter. he never mentioned the rings and necklaces and bracelets you’d sometimes request of him, nor how much he was improving on making detailed ornaments, because it’d beg the question about his blossoming feelings for you, and that was a question he wasn’t ready to answer even to himself.

he would also, unexpectedly, find himself spending more time with you. that spot under the maple tree happened to be one of your favorite places in the lands that your father owned. he’d find you there sometimes, when he stepped outside of the smithy to catch a break from the pounding heat of the hearth, always sitting proper, immersed in a different book each time, while he stood by covered in soot and reeking of sweat, but you never seemed offended by his rough appearance when you asked for his company.

you had told him about your evident love for reading, your preferred genres, your routine, your favorite foods and had confided in him that you loved the deep, meaningful conversations you shared with your mother and dreaded always hearing your father express how he deemed himself above everyone else. you told him about your little sister and how she wasn’t truly scared of him (he had met the young lady, and despite his friendly introduction, she had been intimidated by his hawkishly wide eyes), and in return you had asked about his family, and that topic alone had caused him to get carried away with facts and anecdotes.

“i love how passionate you are about your loved ones, mr. rengoku.” that had been the first time he had actually flushed in your presence and you reveled in how well red suited his complexion.

he was oddly satisfied, though, because he wasn’t the only one whose emotions were starting to show in the open. the more afternoons he found himself basking in your company, the more you let your true colors shine; he was pleased to learn that that proper lady that had once professionally commissioned his work was actually the easily-excitable and dreamy woman that, he liked to naively think, only really showed herself to him.

in the weeks leading up to the beginning of the winter, he had been tasked with chopping wood for the incoming colder months, so the afternoons that had once been filled with incessant chatter between you and him had morphed into another kind of coexistence that you couldn’t deny enjoying despite missing the conversations you were used to holding with the blacksmith.

you were ashamed to admit that you hadn’t turned the page of your current read in gods know how long, but who could blame you? only a few feet away from the great maple you sat against was a very exerted kyojuro, puffing and grunting as he brought down the ax time and time again, cutting through heavy grains of wood in a way that he almost made look easy. and you knew that he knew that he was distracting you, because through the side-eyed glances you’d occasionally spare his way you’d caught his wide eyes shamelessly staring right back at you and what was, undeniably, a smile on his parted lips.

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

winter was a slow season. everything felt more lethargic, different in an unpleasant way. the maples had lost all of their vibrant leaves, leaving the ominous structure of curved branches hanging in the air. the thick snow that covered the ground gave kyojuro’s steps a sluggish quality on his daily trips to and from the estate, but the promise of comforting food helped him push through the complicated weather.

there was very little that could discourage optimistic kyojuro, but the loneliness that came with winter was slowly taking a toll on him. his friend haganezuka (who would never admit to being friends) had put his visits on hold until the weather became easier in the spring, and so had you; it was much too cold to spend time in the forest, and although kyojuro would never wish sickness upon you, he missed the time you used to spend with him. he would see you in the manor, sometimes, but he didn’t know if he would be overstepping his employer’s hospitality if he stayed to chat, so he didn’t.

he always noticed that you were wearing at least one of the pieces you had commissioned over the time, and that weird feeling in his gut would reappear and remain as he made his way back to the shed.

it wasn’t until one of the warmest days that december would allow, when the sun soothed the unforgiving cold if only a smidge, that he got to talk to you again. because you had sought him out. because it had been a sunny day and the snow had been easier to trudge through, and he answered the knocking on the door to the smithy without expecting that it would be you on the other side of it.

“ma’am, you shouldn’t be here.” despite his surprise, he regarded you with a stern expression that he can’t remember having used on you before. and, despite his words, he ushered you into the warmth of his workspace, because it was still too cold outside to just send you back on the way you had come from.

you were quiet while he brought you close to the forge, relief settling in your bones when the heat started to spread through your stiff joints. he looked upset, but the way his beautiful eyes regarded you wasn’t enough to deter you.

“i missed you,” you stated without breaking eye contact, determination in your voice and gaze, and kyojuro desperately tried not to look too much into the unspoken message behind your words. he was so lost in your eyes that he barely saw you stepping closer to him. he wet his drying lips with the tip of his tongue, and it was impossible to miss the way your pupils (did they look larger?) followed the movement of his pink muscle.

“i missed you too, ma’am,” he admitted, all the while trying to step backwards and put some distance between the two of you, because heaven knows his sanity needs the space. “but you can’t risk catching a cold just because you missed me.” and he knew he should sound more chastising, but his voice came out gentle, like a small act of rebellion against his better judgment.

“no, no, you don’t understand,” you stepped forward, trying to close the distance once more, until his lower back was pressed against the old table and his hand held the chair in a vice grip, because your body was so much closer to his than it had ever been, your chest pressing against his, your head craned up in a way that must have been uncomfortable because you were smaller than him. your hand came to hold the one that wasn’t busy nearly splintering the back of the chair he was holding on to for dear life. “i need you so bad, kyojuro.”

you had never called him by his given name before, but now he fully understood why “mr. rengoku” had always sounded so off parting from your lips. a shuddery breath escaped his lips without his permission, and he knew damn well that you had felt it, because he could also feel your own breathy plea right against his lips, and he couldn’t even try to deny the way the sound went straight to his cock, his resolve so close to snapping it was almost painful to hold onto it. but he had to, he couldn’t give in, couldn’t taint you-

“please, kiss me.”

fuck it all-

sharp and rapid knocking shattered the trance you had put each other in as you jumped away from the blacksmith, startled nearly out of your skin. the interruption was so sudden it felt like you had just had freezing water dumped on you.

“mr. rengoku?” you recognized the voice of one of the servants, loud and clear despite being muffled. he sounded agitated. “i can’t find the lady at the estate, is there any chance she’s with you?”

kyojuro didn’t answer immediately, busy regarding you closely. now that the haze was broken, he could see the clarity, the vulnerability in your eyes as you gazed up at him. he didn’t like it, he hated that you had laid your feelings out in the open, that he had almost admitted to reciprocation and, now that you had been forced back into your senses, he couldn’t do it anymore. it was wrong, it wasn’t meant to be, but it hurt so fucking much to have you looking at him with that broken look.

he might as well have rejected you outright.

after another second, he broke eye contact, walking towards the bed and grabbing his haori that he had left there as an extra cover, before walking towards the door. he had the decency to make sure you had composed your semblance before opening the door.

“hey!” optimistic kyojuro had seldom had to fake a smile before. “yeah, she’s with me! she noticed that i left my haori at the mess hall when i went to the estate for lunch earlier. she’s such a thoughtful lady!”

“my lady, it was absurdly reckless of you to come all the way here in these conditions!” the harsh scolding from the older man fell on deaf ears as you walked towards the entrance, not even sparing a look at kyojuro when you shuffled past his towering frame. “let’s go back before the temperature drops further. thank you, mr. rengoku. have a pleasant evening.”

“you too! be careful on the way back!” he hesitated for a second before adding. “please, be mindful of your health from now on, ma’am.”

it hurt more than he’d like to admit, the way you only nodded while blatantly avoiding his searching eyes. he had wanted to, at the very least, make sure you knew that he didn’t disregard your feelings, that even if you thought that he didn’t return them you’d still know that he cared about you.

watching you disappear into the distance with your servant hammered the sinking feeling into his stomach that your relationship would never go back to how it used to be.

and maybe it was for the best.

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

“i have a problem, haganezuka.”

“don’t we all?”

spring had arrived early and suddenly to the lands of the governor’s estate, melting the snow and giving way to blossoms so stunning they felt like a reward after the merciless winter had finally passed. and what a long season it had been.

if one were to venture further into the maple forest, they’d come across a medium-sized pond that kyojuro had already had the pleasure to become acquaintanced with, especially when he needed a break from his hard work. it was especially beautiful at night, when hidden crickets sing their tunes and fireflies fly with ghastly serenity. it had been months since he last visited, since he had spent most of his time during the freezing season forging and crafting, trying to escape from the cold and his inner turmoil.

it had been so long since he last talked to you too.

he did still see you, during his visits to the manor, but you were still blatantly avoiding him. whatever glimpses of you he did catch were enough to show him that you no longer wore his necklaces, bracelets, rings or hairpins.

it hurt only slightly less every time he noticed.

the worst part of it was keeping it to himself. he did still engage in conversation with the servants of the main house, and despite being close friends with a few of them, he knew it wouldn’t be wise to speak of the circumstances; he dreaded to think what would happen to either him or you should your father find out.

he knew it was foolish to write home about it; after all, he had never mentioned you in any of his letters, and he was aware that the improperty of the situation would be frowned upon by his stern father; what cretin son would mess up a perfectly ideal job for a woman he wasn’t even meant to have? besides, the letters he sent were managed by the household staff, and he couldn’t be too careful with the information that could be leaked to his employer.

that is why, when haganezuka visited for the first time in months, kyojuro suggested the secluded pond as their snacking spot for a “change of scenery”, instead of the clearing of the smithy. he knew he could trust the older man with his predicament.

it helped to know that haganezuka rarely initiated conversation with anyone, kyojuro was certain he wouldn’t care enough to snitch.

“i’m in love with the lady.” it was the first time he admitted it out loud, and it felt startling even to himself, but there was not a trace of hesitation in his words. haganezuka seemed more surprised than he thought he would be, because he had stopped munching on the sticky ball that was his favorite treat to slowly side-eye kyojuro with the one functional eye he had.

“...the governor’s wife?”

“heavens, no!” your mother had been as pleasant towards him as you, which ascertained whose values you had inherited, but he wasn’t the kind of man to develop an infatuation towards a taken woman; apparently, though, he was the kind of man to fall for a woman he couldn’t have, regardless. “the eldest daughter.”

“and what do you want me to say to that?” haganezuka deflected gruffly; it was obvious this conversation was way outside of his area of expertise. he continued eating his dango, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to add anything else, until he swallowed. “you didn’t pick the brightest guy to talk about romance, kid.”

“i’m not really looking for advice, i just…” he sighed, trying to gather his thoughts. the cup of tea sat unattended by his side, on the grass. “i almost kissed her.”

“almost? so you didn’t. you have done nothing wrong so far.” kyojuro looked downright embarrassed by the admission that was about to leave his lips.

“i have given into temptation by myself. in numerous occasions. always thinking about her.” haganezuka regarded him with a look that screamed that he really hadn’t needed to be exposed to that information, but kyojuro ignored it. “i’ve dishonored her in thought. i should commit seppuku!”

“you are being ridiculous,” the older blacksmith scoffed, crossing his arms. “everyone’s given into those needs, you think you’re special?” the younger man remained uncharacteristically quiet, and haganezuka heaved an annoyed sigh. “look, if you’re going to keep being a bitch about this, i have contacts. you have a reputation and talent, kid. i can secure you a new job far from here. far from her.”

the water of the pond rippled peacefully in the direction the gentle breeze pushed it, and kyojuro stared, enraptured, lost in thought. the plate with mitarashi dango had long been polished, and despite his fearsome appetite, he couldn’t recall having grabbed a single stick in the time he had spent with the dark-haired man.

“i appreciate the offer,” he conceded, smiling up at his friend. he knew that was the best option. it’s not like he should have entertained any chance at courtship with you, but even now he was certain that there was no future in store for him that involved you. he would move on, and so would you; if he stayed, he’d eventually be forced to witness you be betrothed to another man, and the thought alone had his heart plummeting into his stomach. he knew he should leave and never look back, meet and fall in love with a woman that was actually within his league. “but i don’t think i can easily forget about her.”

haganezuka looked exasperated at this point, and decided to leave the conversation at that. kyojuro didn’t push, and once more became absorbed in his thoughts.

perhaps he just needed more time to overcome it.

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

it was late march when kyojuro was informed of a long-standing tradition in the governor’s family. apparently, it would soon be one of the yearly two weeks when half the servants were granted what could remotely be considered a “vacation”, taking place during the birthday week of the head of the estate. the staff would generally use this time to visit their families and enjoy some well-deserved rest; the other half of the staff was ordered to stay and supervise the lands while the governor and his family visited his childhood home in the next town over and spent a week of festivities with relatives, close and distant.

because kyojuro had been working under the governor for less than a year, he wasn’t given the option to take this vacation, and instead would have to wait for the one other week of the year when the remaining staff would be allowed their due rest (he was informed it was usually in the summer). it was disappointing (yet expected) to learn that he would have to wait several months still to see his family, but he had known when he had accepted the position that the periods between his visits would be long, so he hadn’t been too upset by the news.

what had been surprising, though, was being told by the head chef that the eldest daughter had had to opt out of the trip because you had been coming up with something for some time and it had culminated in a severe case of hay fever the moment spring had hit in full bloom. the news reminded him of that one conversation you had shared all those months ago about how much you loved flowers (especially sunflowers, and it had instantly become cherished information) but suffering the worst coughing and sneezing fits if exposed to them. his heart squeezed painfully.

he really missed learning every little detail about you.

kyojuro had tried hard not to dwell on thoughts about you, he had tried to de-escalate his high-strung feelings, and for the most part he had been successful (granted, he had his heavy workload to help keep his head out of thoughts that didn’t involve metal and fire), but it was small things like this that made all his progress crumble and his longing return.

the day the noble family had left the estate, it had started to rain cats and dogs. to be fair, this weather had been announcing itself for some time now, but it didn’t make the downpour any less impressive. the muted sound of rain against the roof of the shed was barely audible over the steady banging of his hammer on hot metal. it must have been pretty late into the night, the only source of light inside the smithy coming from the flaming hearth and the oil lamp that kyojuro kept on the nearby table. his eyes burned from being exposed to heat and exhaustion, but he kept them owlishly wide, intensely focused on the project at hand.

everything considered, he couldn’t be blamed for not catching the thumping of dull knocks the first time they came down on the door. and, to his merit, he did hear them the second time, breaking from his state of concentration and into one of disbelief.

who the hell was outside in that weather?

he made sure to secure his project safely before rushing to let whoever it was inside before they died of hypothermia, only to yank the door open and be met with the same pair of eyes that had actively and unforgivingly avoided his own for so many months now.

“ma’am?” he exclaimed, startled, but quickly kicked himself into action and grabbed your wrist, securing a ceiling above your head and slamming the door shut. “what the hell are you doing here?” and for the first time since he had met her, the words that came out of his mouth weren’t laced with gentleness and joy, but instead very palpable exasperation. “you are sick and-”

“i’m not sick.” you interrupted him, unaffected by the raise of his voice. you inspected his frazzled look, the layer of sweat that made his skin glow, his searching eyes, the way his mouth opened in an attempt to interrogate you, but you beat him to it. “i lied about being sick. i needed the opportunity to speak with you without being interrupted. no one will be checking on me because i explicitly asked not to be disturbed in my rest.”

kyojuro felt his heart begin to race, a gut-wrenching mixture of rage and concern churning his insides. there you were, standing on a puddle of rainwater of your own making, with your beautiful hair plastered to your face, your yukata, no wonder, soaked straight through, and despite looking like you’d collapse any second now from how harshly you were trembling in your ruined sandals you had the audacity to pin him in place with a stern look, as if he was the one in that situation who deserved a talking-to.

“you couldn’t have chosen a more favorable night to speak with me? or even better, request my presence at the manor?” some part of his mind was begging him to keep his growing anger at bay, but the more this ridiculous situation raced in circles around his brain, the more agitated he felt himself getting. “even if you are not sick, you might as well fall ill now after this stunt you’ve just pulled! the last thing i asked of you before months of silence was to look after your health and you dare disregard it just like that! and just because whatever it is you need to tell me cannot wait-”

“you are no longer required as our blacksmith.”

the build-up of his anger dissipated so suddenly it almost gave him whiplash. you remained quiet, stare unwavering while you waited for him to compose himself.

“you are dismissing me.” it was not a question, and you hated the way his usually booming voice, the same one you had loved from the very beginning, had suddenly bee reduced to a hollow hum. you hoped he’d scream at you instead.

“not exactly, please, let me explain,” you tried to keep your own emotions at bay, but it proved increasingly harder the more you looked at kyojuro. “your services have been requested by the nobleman in charge of one of the neighboring counties. it is not the capital, but the work is just as honest and well paid as it is here. you will have the same chance at a thriving career there, and this dismissal does in no way taint your reputation-”

“my services have been requested,” kyojuro parroted, staring down at you with disbelief evident in his gaze. if you looked hard enough, you could also discern something breaking behind those soulful eyes, so you looked away. “because your father spoke of them?”

“father is unaware yet. i offered them.”

“why?”

“because…” and you swallowed hard, and the dam that kept your tears constrained shattered while you struggled with your following words, “...because i messed up and this is not fair to you, and i want to offer you an out. there won’t be consequences for you, should you accept it, and we can each go our separate ways and forget that i ever ruined our friendship with my stupid feelings.”

you were sobbing openly now, muttering hasty apologies to the stunned blacksmith who had once been your friend, shrinking into yourself by the second, unable to take the whole of his scrutiny, but kyojuro decided that he’d have none of that.

that look of despair didn’t look good on the woman he cherished, against all rational judgment. he hated it.

the warm, big hands that enveloped your shoulders as they shook startled you enough to give into his prodding gaze; it had always been amusing, how you could feel it on you even when you weren’t looking, wordlessly calling for attention to those eyes that resembled fiery flames. and when you met them, they felt the same they had all those months ago, familiar and open.

“i love your eyes so much.” it escaped your lips like a reflex, but you did not regret the words one bit. the trembling of your fragile body seemed to cease, slowly but surely, the closer his inviting body shuffled against yours, and you greedily soaked into the warmth he offered.

“ask me again,” he breathed, firm and tender at the same time, and he knew you were confused because your eyebrows furrowed in the quest to decipher what he could be talking about. he conceded with a chuckle. “what you asked me all those months ago, ask me again.”

oh.

he was already so close, it reminded you of the position you had put him in on that december afternoon. this was payback, you were sure, with the way he had slowly moved you to press against that table, the way his eyes pinned you in place and his breath brushed devastatingly against your lips, impatiently waiting for you to answer to your cue. you don’t make him wait anymore.

“please, kiss me.”

and kiss you he did, with a voracious eagerness that should have been saved for a second or third kiss, not a first, but the build-up had left kyojuro so high-strung that he decided to skip all decorum and ravage you the way he almost had on that day, the way he had wished to since that day. he pulled out all the stops, licking, sucking and biting at your lips while his hands busied themselves into the soaked fabric around your hips. your own hands slid into his scalp, clumsily slipping his hair out of the tie that had always kept it tied and in place when he worked. his fiery locks spilled over his shoulders and he finally broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours and licking at the thin string of saliva that connected your mouths.

“if…” you trailed off, hesitating. “if you were to leave the estate… would you take me with you?” but the words were out in the open before you could smother them any longer, and the look of surprise on kyojuro’s face initially brought a wave of dread to your stomach.

“what about your family?” you understood that you leaving your family behind would be the first concern to come with your request, considering he was such a family man himself, but you were convinced. you had warmed yourself up to the idea for long enough.

“i will miss my family, especially mother and my sister… but now that i know that my feelings are returned, i don’t think i can bear the notion of being away from you, my love.” the way he visibly softened was enough to reassure you that he wouldn’t argue further; he trusted you to weigh out the options and make your own choices like the strong woman that you were.

the strong woman that was now visibly trembling from palpable excitement, nerves and cold. kyojuro became aware, once again, of the elephant in the room. and he chastised himself for letting his feelings get the better of him and completely ignore that you shouldn’t stay in those ruined clothes any longer.

“i need you to disrobe.” he realized how wrong it had come out the second the words left his mouth, so he was quick to correct himself. “i meant that we need to get you out of those clothes before you succumb to the cold.” and as if his words were a reminder, you felt a full-body shiver when you became hyperconscious of the uncomfortably cold feeling of wet cotton on your skin.

because the smithy was made up of one room (as a shed would), and leaving the small building given the heavy rain that had not ceased for even a minute, kyojuro resorted to turning around, facing his neat bed and giving you as much privacy as he could offer you in that situation.

the splat of wet clothes hitting the floor echoed loud and clear in the silent room, and kyojuro immediately jumped to grab the haori on his bed and turned, eyes closed so tightly it almost looked painful, to offer it to you.

“i know it’s not a proper outfit, but i hope it’ll suffice for the moment.” but you didn’t accept the cloth he was handing out to you, not immediately at least.

“i want you to look at me, kyojuro.”

he knew he should fight your siren song, but his eyes flew open almost against his will, first falling on the impish smile of your face, and eventually giving in and roaming the standing expanse of your naked body.

oh, heavens -

“you need to disrobe as well, i’m afraid i soaked your clothes as well,” you didn’t sound one bit apologetic, but the smith found that he did not care. a dangerous glint shone in the eyes that hadn’t stopped observing every exposed inch of your deliciously dewy skin.

“wear the haori. now,” as he tugged on the belt keeping his yukata closed, following your subtle cue to undress without complaint, and reveling in the way your eyes didn’t stray from his even as you grabbed the cloth that was still hanging from his outstretched hand. “because if you keep presenting yourself so deliciously to me i might have no choice but to dig in.”

he worked on removing his clothes until he stood naked and shamelessly aroused before you, all the while you slipped the white haori around your shoulders; it was so large and cozy that you were heavily tempted to wrap it snugly around your body, but for the sake of the tension festering in the air, you decided to keep the front open, teasing: an invitation.

“fine by me.” and with that, he broke the distance you had once again formed to smash his lips against yours, moaning and grasping at the chilly skin of your hips, and pressing you forward into his body. his hardening cock nudged your lower stomach, and you couldn’t decide whether to focus on that or his hands sliding down to cup your ass. “hold on to me,” he slurred, and the next second he was hoisting you up, pleased as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. “good girl.”

the praise played in your head over and over as he placed you on top of the table, which creaked unforgivingly under your sudden weight. mindful of potential accidents, kyojuro removed the candle from the surface on which you sat and placed it on the crafting bench instead, coming back to you with a predatory quality in his step.

“i’ve been a foolish, foolish man,” he rumbled, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart in a motion so fluid you could only gasp, startled as he dropped to his knees between your legs, “to have thought i had even one chance of escaping your charms, my little flame.”

the words were pressed sultrily in between open mouthed kisses against your sensitive inner thighs, which by now were quivering for a whole other reason than the cold that had seeped into your body.

“kyojuro-”

“i’m not going do deny you any longer, not now and not ever.” and he didn’t tease because the wait had been long enough already. his lips latched onto your sopping pussy with intention, and you cried out in startled pleasure as he started to eat you out like a man starved. his tongue traced a long, flat swipe from your clenching hole all the way up to your clit, and back down in a zigzag motion, wiggling and flicking his tongue against the entrance, rumbling at the sweet juice that coated the muscle. “you taste so good, i can’t get enough.”

it seemed like kyojuro could get off on delivering praise alone with the way he was physically unable to shut up against your cunt, babbling and moaning about “this pussy’s so sweet, i could eat you out for hours” or “keep grinding on my face like that” or “c’mon, use my tongue for your pleasure, my sunflower” while all you had been rendered to was a moaning mess with one hand gripping the hem of his borrowed haori and the other holding a fistful of his soft hair, urging him closer.

“kyojuro, please, suck my clit harder and put your fingers in me,” you requested breathlessly and, far from being put off by your straightforwardness, your lover took to obeying and complying with the unleashed eagerness of a puppy, bringing one of the hands that had been forcing your thighs apart to your fluttering quim. his middle finger, rough and thick and thankfully not covered in soot for a change, teased the entrance with featherlight circles before pushing inside, working steadily to loosen the twitching channel.

“that’s it, you’re so tight, my love,” he groaned, because you were, but you were also so turned on that his finger slid in and out with little to no resistance. “i’m going to get you prepared so well, you’re going to take my whole cock inside this tight pussy, aren’t you?”

“y-yes! oh gods, yes, i want your big cock inside of me, pleasepleaseplease-!” his ring finger joined the tight fit, prodding and curling and squelching so obscenely you knew you should be ashamed, yet it only aroused you even more. his relentless ministrations were bringing you closer and closer to orgasm, every pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue effortlessly carrying you to the edge.

“you’re going to come? my princess is going to make a mess, isn’t she?” kyojuro noticed, of course he noticed, observant and thoughtful as he was. his wrist must hurt from how awkwardly he was bending it to finger you as well as the pace he had set, but it didn’t seem to faze him when the promise of your climax was so close he could practically taste it in the copious amounts of cum that your delicious cunt was drooling all over his lower face. “please, come on my tongue, let me get you off, little flame, c’mon, c’mon…!”

you didn’t need further encouragement to fall off the edge, voice cracking embarrassingly from the high-pitched cry that heralded your orgasm. kyojuro moaned shamelessly along with you as a small stream of clear liquid hit his tongue while he ate you out with renewed fervor, feeling it drip down his chin and onto his thick chest, fingers feeling every merciless squeeze caused by the waves of your subsiding climax, and had you been lucid enough you’d have heard him babbling and growling “good girl, that’s my good girl… give it to me, yes…!”

and he removed himself from your exhausted cunt when your legs finally fell limp on the table, regarding you with heat in his eyes and the back of a hand to his chin, wiping off the cum that soaked the lower half of his visage.

you looked out of it for the full fifteen seconds it took to come back from the faltering, smaller waves of bliss, but once your eyes rolled back in place, it was to meet his gaze and, fuck , kyojuro swore you almost had hearts in your eyes.

“kyojuroo,” you slurred, sounding deliciously fucked out. “let me suck your cock before you fuck me, please. i’ll get it so wet you’ll glide in, i promise. i wanna make you feel good too~”

“i’m flattered, little flame,” he chuckled, gathering your limp body in his sturdy arms and carrying you to the mattress (heaven knows if he tried to fuck you on the table, he’d have one less piece of furniture by the end of the night). he laid you down with tender care, carefully placing your head on the pillow before settling between your legs in a kneeling position. his hands went back to gripping your hips to adjust you better. “but i think i might go insane if i don’t take you this instant. don’t worry, though, i’ll take you up on that offer another time…”

his throbbing erection had been but a distant discomfort while he had devoted his whole attention to you, but it was now demanding the promising tight wrap of your sweet cunt. placing your knees around his waist, he brought you closer, to the point where the tip pressed against your wet folds, and he faltered.

“i’m going to make you mine,” he promised, running the red glans up and down your sopping slit, and you nodded feverishly. he decided, on the spot and despite being at his own limit, that that wasn’t answer enough. “beg for it.”

“oh, kyojuro, please, make me yours! please, fuck me until i forget my own name!” he didn’t expect he would love the way any sense of filter had abandoned you in your cockdrunk stupor, but he did, he loved how he didn’t have to coax the dirty talk out of you. he loved how shameless you were naturally.

“that’s right…” he aligned the tip, giving an experimental roll of his hips and groaning hoarsely when the thick head popped right inside your tight channel. “let me claim this pussy!”

he was fully stuffed inside in only a few pushes, straining uncomfortably against what felt like the deepest stretch of your cunt, and you moaned lowly, adjusting to the stretch around your entrance. his praise was incessant.

“that’s a good girl, taking my whole cock so well, stretching so well just for me, o-oh,” and his voice breaks a little when you return a roll of your own hips, testing the feeling, and kyojuro couldn't help returning the dangerous smile that you’ve offered. “you naughty minx.”

that was all the warning you received before he pulled out, all the way to the tip, only to slam back home in one swift thrust. the shared moan reverberated throughout the small room, and kyojuro began by setting a slow and deep pace that left you shaking down to your very marrow. your legs squeezed his sides, enjoying the way his thrusts pushed you further up the bed.

“i’m going to fuck you so good, aren’t i?” his hands traveled from your hips all the way up to your unattended chest taking rough handfuls of both mounds and massaging, groping and pulling in all directions, at all paces, just to find out what made you keen. and whatever knowledge kyojuro learned, he abused, in the best type of way. he cupped the underside of your tits, watching them bounce with each movement, and he snarled. “gods, i wish you were wearing that necklace i made for you, if only to watch it bounce in time with your breasts.”

“i will! i will wear it next time! and i’ll also wear the rings you made for me and jerk your fat cock off while wearing them!”

“fuuck, yes you will!” who knew you could be so filthy? there wasn’t an atom in his being that minded the fact that you spewed promises so sinful they’d ruin your reputation as the proper and elegant lady if word ever got out. lucky you, kyojuro had zero intentions to share you with anyone.

“kyojuro,” you called his name through hiccups, and he relented a little to let you speak more comfortably while giving himself a break by rolling languidly into you. he watched your hand slide down your torso until it rested on your lower belly. and then, you pushed. you pushed your hand down and he could feel the extra pressure on his snug cock, groaning lowly. you smiled deviously up at him. “i feel you all the way up here…”

if he hadn’t closed his eyes at the lewd sight of you adoringly petting the slight bulge on your tummy, he knew he would have come on the spot.

“of course you do, little flame.” break time was over, and he began to pick up the pace once more, except this time he also let his fingers join in the fun, placing a steely thumb on your throbbing bud and rubbing mercilessly while you thrashed on his cock. “i can feel you squeezing harder, are you getting close, my love?”

the only answer you could deliver was a garbled mess of “yesyesyes” and wet pleas, hips bucking in every which direction, simultaneously trying to get more of and get away from the intense pleasure he was bestowing upon you.

“come on, little flame, i need you to come before i do, and i’m so close, you have no idea… can you do that for me? can you be a good girl and come for me?”

you could, and you did, letting out a silent scream when your second orgasm crashed over you, a little less intense than the first one, but mind-numbing nonetheless. your cunt pulsed rhythmically around his throbbing prick, feeling like heaven and hell for kyojuro, all at the same time.

“y-you feel so good, my love, coming so hard around my cock… oh, heavens i’m going to come soon too…” he knew he was probably overstimulating your used pussy, but he couldn’t help but blindly chase after his own rapidly approaching release. “tell… oh, fuck! please, tell me where, little flame, please…!”

you didn’t answer verbally, you don’t think you could have been physically capable, but his question registered sluggishly, and you mustered all of your remaining strength to lift your legs and cross your ankles at his lower back, pulling him flush between your legs; through half-lidded eyes, you saw his drooping stare become awake as the realization of your actions hit him. moaning brokenly as all he had left to do was rut desperately inside of you.

“a-ah! i’m going to come inside of you, little flame-e! going to make you mine forever, yes… f-fuck!” a second later, kyojuro made good on his promise, filling you with a release that felt so abnormally warm that it brought a shudder upon your wrecked body.

the next moments felt like a blur, like you were struggling to stay conscious, but you knew that kyojuro had resisted the temptation to give into post-coitum cuddles and instead stepped off the mattress and walked around the room.

“you did so incredibly well for me, sunflower,” he praised when he was back at your side, rubbing your cheek tenderly as you smiled drowsily up at him. “i’m going to clean us up now, and then we can sleep. we’ll sort everything out in the morning.”

you felt kyojuro go through the motions of aftercare, pliant under his gentle touch as he wiped sweat and cum off your body (you swear you feel him stare for a few seconds too long at the oozing mess between your legs). the rain didn’t sound as merciless at it had been coming down most of the evening, but the drumming of the droplets on the roof of the shed, coupled with your lover’s careful ministrations, were making a damn good concoction for dozing off.

somehow, you managed to remain conscious until after kyojuro had settled in bed with you, pulling you close to his sturdy and ridiculously warm body, but who were you to turn down the delicious snuggles he promised? with your face against his chest, his arms around your body and a hand in your hair, you finally succumbed to slumber while listening to the low vibration of his voice as he made sweet promises for the future.

“i can’t offer you the luxurious life you have been raised into, but i swear i’ll take care of you in any way i’m- oh…” the blacksmith chuckled, finally taking notice of your steady breathing a very much unconscious state, and decided instead to snuggle further into you. “it’s alright,” he mumbled, “tomorrow will be a day for planning.”

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

in the end, kyojuro hadn’t accepted your offer. well, at least not completely. instead of taking the job that had been offered to him by that nobleman acquaintance of yours, he thought it would be wiser to ask haganezuka to find him an employer that wouldn’t know of you or your family, and who still resided relatively close to his family state (because if something was for certain, it was that he had a lot of catching up to do with his own family, especially about you).

haganezuka, the blessing in disguise that he was, had managed to find the perfect employer in a scarily scarce amount of time and, the very next day, kyojuro had formally expressed to his soon-to-be previous boss that he would break their contract.

“settling down so young isn’t a wise choice if the goal in mind is to improve on your craft” had been the explanation given and, annoyed as he had been by the sudden notice, the governor had let the young rengoku go without much fuss.

you, of course, stayed at your family’s estate for a couple months after kyojuro moved out, because it would have been suspicious to time your escape at around the same time that the blacksmith had left; he had a reputation to uphold, and rumors of stealing away the daughter of a noble family wouldn’t do it any good. so, you waited, counting down the days with barely concealed excitement, and when enough time had passed, you grabbed the bag with your most prized belongings and left on a warm june dawn.

the letter in your vanity had been dedicated to your mother and sister, reassuring them that you’d be safe and happy and would always have them in your thoughts.

the summer sun beat down mercilessly on the engawa of kyojuro’s new workplace. it was a bigger shed, and despite not being surrounded by beautiful Japanese maples like the ones your former home had proudly displayed, the quiet forest, abundant in it’s greenery, proved to be a decent replacement.

kyojuro sat on the wooden platform, yukata a little loose on the chest to allow some of breeze to hit his overheated skin. he had been working all morning in the project that his new employer had left in his capable hands, so, he reckoned, a small break now that late afternoon had arrived was in order.

the sound of dull footsteps on grass interrupted his lounging.

“do you accept commissions?”

and kyojuro knew it in that moment, as you greeted him in the same peculiar way you had almost a year ago, that you were the only one for him.

“of course, my love! it’s what i do!”

and he was delighted to know that he was the only one for you.

“wonderful. i’d like to request a ring from you. actually, could you make them two?”

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