#it will be more beautiful than you could ever imagine
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I Heard Your Voice in a Dream
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: Reader’s village in the Spring Court is destroyed by Hybern (F U Tampon), and she is on her own until Azriel finds her. She feels instantly connected to him, but is not sure why, until one morning when he tells her everything.
(Also my first attempt at duel POV)
Warnings: a smutty ending
Word Count: 6.4k
You were running for your life when Azriel found you.
After the High Lord of the Spring Court made a deal with the devil to bring back his love that fled from him, life looked much different for you.
Hybern had attacked your village, destroyed your home and everything you had ever known. Your High Lord was nowhere to be found. Most of the people you knew didn’t make it out. Somehow, you had, but you couldn’t help but wonder… at what cost?
You spent your time wandering the endless green spring, not sure what to do. You had missed the evacuation. Nobody knew you were injured or where you were. By the time you were well enough to walk, you were alone.
The panic was made worse by the fact that you knew what was in these lands -- monsters that you had no hope of beating should they target you.
And eventually, they did target you.
You weren’t sure what kind of creature it was -- just knew that those teeth could rip you to shreds and you wouldn’t be able to outrun it for long.
But you did run, because what other choice did you have? You ran and ran, not daring to look back. You could hear it gaining on you with every step, until you felt, more than heard, the ground shaking beneath you.
Suddenly, it was silent, the terrible feet of the monster no longer sounding behind you. You risked a glance back, and saw who must have been a warrior, with enormous black wings spread behind him, wiping off his bloody blade on the grass next to the carcass of the beast.
You stopped running, turning around slowly, studying him as he looked up at you. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen, with dark black hair and a completely stoic face, giving away absolutely nothing about what he was thinking. The hard lines of that face terrified you as much as they intrigued you. You realized you were shaking as he walked toward you slowly, as if approaching an injured animal. He was wearing some kind of armor -- all black, with gleaming, glowing circles attached to several points of his body. There were dark tendrils of what looked like smoke circling his arms, his hands. He sheathed his gleaming black blade as he approached you.
He held his hands out, severely scarred, you noticed, palms facing you as he got closer. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” His deep, commanding voice seemed to echo through the now quiet woods.
You couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t bring your voice to speak.
“What’s your name?” he said softly when he stopped a few feet from you.
You told him, your voice barely above a whisper.
The warrior repeated your name quietly, his hazel eyes softening, then said “I’m Azriel. Are you hurt?”
“I-- I don’t think so.”
Azriel nodded, his eyes scanning your body, as if to confirm it. “What are you doing out here alone?”
You couldn’t help but think that the soft, gentle voice he was now using with you was such a juxtaposition to the fierceness of his armor, his no doubt rock solid body, his massive wings. “I have nowhere to go,” you finally choked out.
His brow furrowed, his eyes swimming with emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Your family?”
You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. The expression on your face seemed to say enough. His jaw tightened as he swallowed.
“Your home?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Destroyed,” you whispered.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, his expression softening as he studied your face. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head, but you couldn’t imagine what he was contemplating.
“Thank you,” you croaked out eventually. “For saving my life.”
You turned to go, not wanting to inconvenience him further, but his hand grasped your wrist. As you turned around, you noticed his demeanor had completely changed. He staggered back a step, still holding onto you, pulling you forward a bit. Where before he was confident and calming, his eyes were now wide, his mouth open in what could only be shock.
“What is it?” you asked.
Azriel shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear it. “Come with me.”
You didn’t try to hide your surprise. “You don’t have to do that, I’ll manage.”
He moved his grip from your wrist to your hand, holding it carefully in his, as he gazed at your face, his eyes pleading. “You won’t survive out here. My home -- it’s safe. You’ll be safe.”
Contemplating this, you tried to weigh your options. You knew he was right, that you wouldn’t make it for much longer alone out here. You could try to make it to another court, but how long would that take? And what would happen to you if you got there? But, his home, the one he claimed was safe… you had never seen anyone like him before. Never seen anyone as intimidating. Finally, you asked. “Who… are you?”
His cheeks dusted red as he seemed to grapple for the right words. “I work for the High Lord of the Night Court,” he said carefully.
Unconsciously, you took a step back, pulling your hand from his grasp.
Azriel’s eyes flared. If you didn’t know better you would think it was panic. “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice steady despite his body language.
“The Night Court?” you felt your heart beating faster. Why did your savior have to be from there, of all places? The only thing worse than these woods would be the Court of Nightmares, where not just the High Lord, but the people were brutal and malicious.
“If you just saw it, you would understand,” he said, taking a careful step towards you again. “I will keep you safe, I swear it.” His eyes remained pleading in a way that you couldn’t comprehend.
“Why?” you asked, trying to make sense of this warrior before you. “Why do you care so much?”
He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Finally, he said with all the sincerity in the world, “I couldn’t live with myself if I just left you here.”
You sighed, trying to think. As if reading your thoughts he said, “You either trust me or be eaten by something out here.”
He was right. You knew he was. Still, you couldn’t stop the fear that lodged in your throat as you turned back to him and said resignedly, “Okay. Take me with you.”
---
Azriel tried to keep his breathing steady as the two of you made it to the townhouse in Velaris. He knew he would have a lot of explaining to do.
He watched your eyes widen as you took in the sight around you. Children laughing, people walking and talking, seemingly without a care in the world. A bustling city nestled between the mountains of the Night Court.
“Where… are we?” you asked. Your voice had not yet risen to a normal volume in the short time that he had known you.
Azriel didn’t know how much to tell you. He would likely already be in hot water just for bringing you here. “The Night Court,” he said, trying to keep his voice bland. “Sort of.”
You gaped at him.
Azriel winced as you neared the front door. “I hate to do this. But, I need you to wait out here.”
Your eyes only widened. “You’re going to leave me?”
His heart cracked a bit at your words. “It should only be a few minutes. I told you, it’s safe here.”
You scowled, crossing your arms, but finally said, “Okay.”
Azriel nodded once, took a deep breath, and walked inside. Cassian, Feyre, and Rhysand were all in the living room. Rhys was laughing at something Feyre said. All eyes looked to you as you stepped into the threshold.
“You’re back early,” Rhys said.
“I need to talk to you,” Azriel said to Rhysand, his voice sounding off, even to his own ears. “Alone.”
The others looked between the two of you curiously. Rhysand rose, masking his surprise, and gestured to his study.
When they were alone, Azriel didn’t know what to say, how to start. Finally, Rhysand had to say “What’s going on, Az?”
Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “When I got to the Spring Court, there was a woman. Running through the woods, from a bogge.”
“Okay,” Rhys drawled.
“I saved her, obviously. But, Rhys, you should have seen her. She was terrified and alone. I think she’s from the village that Hybern attacked.”
Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Azriel held his gaze. “She’s my mate, Rhys.”
The High Lord swore. “You brought her here, didn’t you?”
“What was I supposed to do? She would’ve died out there.”
Rhysand nodded, processing the information. “It was a risk, bringing her here.”
“I know it was,” Azriel said, unwilling to apologize, not for saving his mate’s life.
Despite the danger Azriel had put them in, Rhysand smiled at his brother. “You found your mate.”
Azriel nodded. He hadn’t really processed the information yet.
“Does she know?” Rhys asked.
“No. She’s going through enough right now.”
Rhysand nodded again. “Just be careful. You know how it went when Feyre found out before I told her.”
“I know.”
“So,” Rhys said, leaning against his desk. “I guess we let her stay in the House of Wind. She can find her own place later, if she wants.”
Azriel breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Really.”
---
True to his word, Azriel was back a few minutes later. You were still shocked, trying to make sense of the day. How could this place be a part of the Night Court?
“I can take you to your room now, if you’re ready,” he said by way of greeting.
“My room?” What, in his house?
“Unless you want a tour of the city first? I figured you’d be tired,” he said naturally, as if he were speaking about the weather.
You couldn’t help but gawk at him. “I get a room?”
“Yes,” he said, as if it were obvious.
“Okay,” you said cautiously. “Sure, let’s go to… my room.”
He cleared his throat, taking a tentative step toward you. “We’ll have to fly.”
You just blinked at him. Surely, he didn’t mean…?
He motioned toward you. “May I?”
Resolved, you said, “At this point, why not?”
The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before carefully, he swept you up in his arms, glancing at your face before flapping his mighty wings, taking the two of you up over the city, toward a large mountain.
You clung to him, your stomach twisting in knots, until he landed gently on a balcony on the top of the mountain.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he set you on the ground.
You nodded, looking past him into the formal dining room inside. “Where are we?”
“This is one of the High Lord’s residences in the city. He doesn’t really stay here with us,” he said, opening the door and leading you inside.
“Us?”
“Me and a few others that you’ll meet. His inner circle.”
Again, you felt that fear spike through your body. The High Lord of the Night Court. His inner circle. What had you gotten yourself into?
As if sensing your fear, he stopped and faced you, looking at you intently. “The stories you’ve heard… they’re not real. At least, not in the context that you think.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to form a response. But, surprisingly, you wanted to trust him, this man who saved your life.
When he realized that you weren’t going to say anything, he cocked his head, motioning for you to follow him through the house. You silently obeyed, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty hallways.
Finally, he stopped before a room, shouldering the door open and gesturing for you to step inside first. It was more lavish than any room you’d seen in your village in the Spring Court. The four poster bed was huge in the center of the room. To the right was a sitting area with two chairs and a couch, cozy looking rugs, and through an open door you could see a washroom. It was more inviting than you had expected.
“Will this be alright?” Azriel asked as you surveyed the room.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, this should be just fine.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m just a few doors down, if you need anything.”
“You’re leaving?” you asked, for the second time that day.
Hesitating by the door, he said, “I thought you’d like some time to unwind. I imagine it’s been quite a day for you.”
You nodded, but couldn’t help the pang you felt at being left alone again. Azriel was starting to feel like all you had in the world.
After studying you for a beat, he said, “I can come back in an hour? Give you some time to settle in?”
You couldn’t stop the small smi']le that tugged at your lips. “Okay.”
---
An hour later, Azriel was knocking on your door, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. This morning, he was leaving for the Spring Court to check on how Tamlin had been handling things, and now his mate was staying a few doors down, with no idea where she was or anything about him.
The breath was knocked right out of him as you opened the door. You had changed into leggings and a sweater, the shape of your legs on full display, your hair, slightly damp, was falling loose in ringlets over your shoulders.
An angel, he thought. You looked like an angel.
“I’m glad you gave me that hour,” you admitted, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel felt faint. “I haven’t had a real bath in ages.”
Clarity struck his brain again at the reminder of what you had been through, how you had been living since the attack on your home. His heart ached for you. He wanted to rip Hybern apart with his bare hands.
“Do you want the tour?” he asked, dumbly, trying to stomp down his emotions,
You agreed, and he led you through the halls, the tug in his chest dazing him. He ached to reach for your hand, to bring your body into his. How had Rhys endured all that time with Feyre, feeling like this?
As you walked through the house, you started asking questions, and Azriel answered to the best of his ability. He told you about Velaris, how secret it was, why it had been kept a secret. The Court of Nightmares, the lies they had to spin. He explained that he was the Night Court’s spymaster, explained his shadows, his shadowsinger abilities, his wings. He didn’t give a ton of details, not wanting to overwhelm you, but not wanting to lie either.
You told him of your past, too. Of your life with your family before Hybern, your cottage, your friends. None of them had survived the attack. Azriel clenched his fists as you spoke, marveling at how kind and reserved you were, despite the horrors that you had been through.
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the direction of the dining room and he winced. He would have to bring you to dinner, to face the entire group. Azriel knew that Rhys had relayed the information by now about his… guest. That was why they had all insisted on coming to dinner, to scope you out.
He felt guilty about keeping you out of the loop, that everyone would know that you were his mate. But you knew how much pressure could be put on females to give into their mates. He would never do that to you, he wanted you to have a choice.
He would just have to wait until you were settled, until you knew that you were safe with him.
You looked at him questioningly, and he simply said, “Are you hungry? It’s almost time for dinner.”
“Dinner…” you trailed off, a question in your eyes.
“With everyone. Yeah.”
Your eyes widened and he couldn’t help himself. He took your hand in his like he did in the woods, what had made the bond snap into place. “It’ll be okay. They’re good people.”
You looked skeptical, but nodded, moving a bit closer to him. He swore he felt his heart miss a beat.
Azriel led you to the dining room, still holding your hand. At the threshold of the room, you dropped his hand and stood behind him, peaking around his shoulder at the loud group. He could tell you were frightened, and wanted desperately to hold you, to take the fear away.
He cleared his throat, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He looked at his friends sternly, willing them to behave, at least for tonight, before he introduced you to them.
You remained behind him, creeping out the littlest bit, placing your hand gently on his bicep. He looked back at you, trying to calm you down like he had in the woods.
“Come on,” he murmured, lightly placing his hand on your arm and guiding you to your seat. You followed, your body taut.
Azriel introduced you to Cassian, Mor, Elain, Nesta, and Amren. You stayed silent, wide eyed, no doubt realizing the power in the people around you. Finally, he gestured to Rhys and Feyre. “And this is the High Lord and Lady.”
Your eyes widened further then, taking in Feyre. “High Lady,” you murmured, in awe.
Right. The High Lady. Feyre was the one who had tore the Spring Court apart from the inside out. Azriel hadn’t even thought of that, and watched your reaction.
Feyre smiled at you kindly and Rhys looked extremely proud. “Honestly, that… that’s amazing. A High Lady,” you repeated. Azriel let out the breath he was holding.
“We sure think so,” Rhys smirked, his eyes sliding warmly to Feyre.
Azriel could feel some of the tension leave your body, and he nearly slumped with relief.
Your reaction seemed to please his friends, too. Azriel couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.
Throughout the course of dinner, you had remained silent, your doe eyes taking in everything before you. Azriel was hyper aware of you beside him, trying to sense your every reaction.
After dinner, Azriel walked you back to your room, pausing at the door. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I think I’m okay,” you said. “It’s not what I expected.”
Azriel nodded. “In a good way?”
You smiled lightly up at him. He nearly fell over. “Everyone seems… normal. Like a family.”
Azriel smiled faintly. “They are. We are a family.”
Studying his face, you stayed silent for a moment. “Thank you,” you whispered.
He squeezed your shoulder gently, feeling his heart constrict at your vulnerability. “Sleep well. Come get me if you need anything, okay?”
You nodded, still smiling slightly as you went inside and gently closed the door behind you.
---
Despite your exhaustion, you lay awake, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, your mind spinning. A family. That’s what this was, all of these powerful fae in one room, the mightiest warriors, the most fearsome High Lord… talking and teasing and laughing at dinner.
You had felt Azriel’s eyes on you, gauging your reactions.
Azriel. He was what was truly keeping you up, you thought. The most beautiful man with the scarred hands and the siphons, you had learned, that helped him harness his unbelievable power, the apparently legendary blade at his side. And yet, the way he watched you, the way his voice changed when he spoke to you…
You couldn’t help but trust him, feeling safe next to him. He had saved your life, after all. It was that thought that was wisping through your mind as you finally drifted off to sleep.
---
The first night in your new bed, you had slept through the night once you were finally able to sleep, too exhausted from the events of the day to be chased by monsters in your dreams.
The second night was a different story.
You didn’t even realize you had been screaming until scarred hands were shaking you awake, hazel eyes so close to yours, full of worry and protectiveness, saying your name over and over until your eyes cleared.
Azriel’s fingers were rubbing soothing circles on your shoulders. “It’s okay, you’re safe. It was just a dream,” he said softly, cupping your cheek in his rough hand when you had stopped trembling.
“I’m sorry,” you croaked, tears springing to your eyes.
He gently wiped the tears away with his thumb, not taking his eyes off you for a second. “For what?” his voice was husky from sleep.
“Waking you,” you whispered, captivated by his hands on you, his eyes swimming with emotion.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said gently, his thumb still absently stroking your cheek. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, not trusting your voice to be audible enough for him to hear.
“Do you want -- I can stay. If you want. Until you fall back to sleep,” he said hesitantly. You hadn’t known him long, but you imagined it was rare for him to stumble over his words like this.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said quietly, though you felt your heart swell at the offer. “I appreciate it, but… I’m sure the spymaster needs sleep.”
The corner of his mouth turned up into a faint smile as he pulled back from you, settling in the armchair against the wall. “I’m used to staying up because I’m the spymaster,” he said, humor lining his voice.
“You’ve already done so much for me--”
His voice was still soft, but added a commanding edge as he cut you off. “Sleep, my lady. I don’t mind.”
You considered protesting again, but knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere. And honestly… it did make you feel better to have his comforting presence in the room, chasing away all of your invisible demons.
---
It didn’t take long for your breathing to go steady, lost in a deep sleep. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to leave you yet, though.
The sound of your terrified shrieks ran over and over in his mind. He had been protective of people before, of course, but this. The terror he could feel radiating off of you, the tears streaming down your face, the look in your eyes before you realized where you were… his hands gripped the armrests so tightly that he worried you might not have a chair in your room tomorrow.
He focused on you now: your peaceful face, your hair draped across the pillow, your breathing even. It calmed him down slightly, but not enough.
Azriel wanted to stay. Just to be sure that you were alright, to ensure that he would be able to stop the nightmares before they escalated this time, but he did not want to invade your privacy. He knew that you probably wouldn’t be happy to find him still sitting there in the morning.
So, after you had been sleeping peacefully for quite some time, he dragged himself out of the chair and silently went to his own room, where he could not sleep at all, those screams rattling around in his mind.
---
Azriel stayed by your side for weeks after you arrived in the Night Court, only leaving, seemingly, when he absolutely had to. The two of you would relax in the library, raid the kitchen, wander around the streets in Velaris that seemed endless to you, in the best way. Despite everything that you had heard of the Night Court and its inhabitants, you were starting to feel at home there. Though you still were extremely intimidated by everyone except Azriel, and couldn’t imagine spending time with any one of them if he wasn’t present.
Though you were starting to adjust to your new life, you continued to wake Azriel so consistently with your nightmares that you wondered if you should just offer to let him sleep next to you. Of course, you knew you couldn’t possibly do that. Your cheeks flushed at just the thought. Guilt gnawed at you though, for being the reason for his lack of sleep, so much so that you offered to switch rooms, somewhere further from him, but he would hear none of it. Nearly every night he came into your room, shaking you awake, then soothing you back to sleep. You couldn’t imagine how he was functioning on so little rest.
One night was particularly bad. You dreamt of the attack on your village, the bloodshed you saw, the terror you felt. You knew Azriel could sense that it was worse than usual, as he wouldn’t take his soothing hands from your arms until you had stopped trembling, which took significantly longer than it normally did. His eyes were filled with more worry than you had seen before, and when he pulled away from you, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and gently grabbing his wrist.
His eyes widened a bit in surprise as he turned back to face you, but he said nothing.
“Can you come here?” Your quiet voice cracked on the last word and his jaw ticked at the sound.
He approached you slowly, like he didn’t want to do the wrong thing. “What can I do?” he murmured.
“Can you -- I mean, would it be too weird…” you flushed, unable to get the words out.
Comprehension flooded his expression and you were so embarrassed that you wanted to take it all back, but then his eyes softened with so much warmth that you wanted to cry. “You want me to lay with you for a bit?”
You bit your lip. “Would you?”
The ghost of a smile. Your heart melted.
You scooched over to the far side of the bed before he settled into next to you, agonizingly slowly. He faced you, propping his cheek on his fist. “Is this okay?”
You could only nod, concealing half your face with your sheets in an attempt to hide how red your cheeks had no doubt become. The heat radiated off his body, his shadows nowhere to be found in the dim light.
He smiled faintly as you looked at him. He murmured, “you have to close your eyes to sleep, you know.”
More heat rose to your cheeks. “You could sleep too. You don’t have to stay up and guard me.”
His smile grew. “Isn’t that literally what I’m here for?”
“You’re here for…” you contemplated how much you should tell him. “Your comforting presence,” you finally said.
“You find my presence comforting?�� he said, his voice losing that teasing note he had been using moments before.
“Of course I do,” you said, slightly mesmerized by those hazel eyes that rarely left yours.
His expression was unreadable as he studied you for another moment before laying down and murmuring, “Go to sleep.”
So, you did.
---
Azriel could not sleep.
His mate. His mate, who flooded his thoughts day in and day out, whose tug on him drove him mad every waking moment, was in bed with him. And she had no idea what she was. Or what he desperately wanted to do to her.
Your comforting presence.
The words drifted around his mind ceaselessly. He was willing to bet that his mate was one of the only people who would ever feel that way. Most people feared him, or were at least wary of the near-silent shadowsinger.
But, his mate…
Azriel’s eyes whipped to you as your breathing changed, ready to wake you up again if need be. He watched the rise and fall of your chest carefully, before it evened out again and he relaxed back against the mattress.
He would have to tell you. Soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this, without having any idea how you felt about him.
He thought of you, as he always did lately, when he finally drifted off to sleep.
---
Strong arms were holding you when you awoke. Before you were fully conscious, you snuggled further into the warmth. Mother only knew how long it had been since you had felt that safe.
It wasn’t until you heard the grumble of a sleepy male behind you that your eyes sprung open and you realized where you were. You were in your bed, faint sunlight shining through the curtains. And the shadowsinger was behind you, his arms wrapped around your middle, your bodies flush together, his breath tickling your neck.
You were spooning. Azriel was spooning you.
And he wasn’t awake yet.
Mother above and Cauldron save me.
Should you pull away? You didn’t exactly want to. And it had been so long since he had gotten a good night’s rest, thanks to you.
Selfishly, you couldn’t bear to leave those arms. So, you did what any rational person would do. You pretended you were still asleep and savored the feeling of the strong warrior’s body pressed against yours.
It was a little while later when he shifted and stiffened. He was awake.
Carefully, he untangled himself from you, backing up to where he had started the night. After a moment, you turned around, to face him, feigning grogginess.
He was gazing at you, his expression more open than you had ever seen it. His eyes swimmed with something that looked like longing. Or maybe that’s just what you hoped it was.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. It made your toes curl beneath the sheets.
“I slept really well, actually,” you said, honestly. “Did you get to sleep?”
He nodded, his expression smoothing back to that unreadable blankness.
“Thank you for staying,” you said softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Azriel’s eyes softened. “I don’t know what I would do without you, either.”
You sat up a bit, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Me? What do you mean?”
He furrowed his brow, as if he were contemplating whether to tell you something or not.
“Is something wrong?” you asked.
He swallowed, his jaw clenched slightly. “There’s something I should tell you.”
You just waited, gazing at that beautiful face.
Taking a deep breath, his eyes not wavering from yours, he said, “That day, when I touched you in the woods, I realized that you’re my mate.”
If you weren’t in your bed, you’re sure you would have fallen over. Your heart started pounding and you sat up fully, now very aware of the thin night clothes you were wearing.
Azriel sat up too, studying, trying to gauge your reaction.
“That’s why you were so adamant about bringing me with you,” you said quietly, your mind reeling.
He nodded. “To be fair, I might have done that anyway, but… yes. I couldn’t leave you there.”
You watched his hazel eyes looking back at you. You had been right before, you could see that now. He wanted you. Longed to be close to you.
“That’s why I feel so connected to you,” you whispered, noting that tug in your chest that is always leading you to him. “Why you always make me feel so safe.”
His expression flooded with emotion. “You really feel that way around me?”
“Of course I do. Since the very beginning,” you said, inching closer to him, so your legs were almost touching. You couldn’t quite believe it.
Azriel was your mate. The sweet, mysterious, strong spymaster from the Night Court who saved your life. Who had given you a home.
He was your home, you realized with a start.
“Are you…happy?” Azriel asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.
He had been worried, you realized. Worried that you would be upset, or wouldn’t return his feelings.
Without a word, you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him.
You felt the relief rush through his body as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to him. You settled on his lap, straddling him, deepening the kiss.
He moaned quietly into your mouth as he slipped his tongue inside and you tightened your grip on him, raking your nails down his back. You felt his hardness pressing against your leg, and flushed at that feeling of being wanted.
His rough hands trailed up your bare thighs, toying with the hem of your nightdress. He stopped kissing you long enough to pull back, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded, smiling, and kissed him fiercely before he slowly pulled the dress up and over your head, his eyes raking your body, now completely bare save for your underwear.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling, before he kissed sensually down your neck. Then lower and lower…
You gasped as he took your nipple in his mouth, biting gently before soothing over the peak with his tongue.
“Azriel,” you moaned, and he growled in response, tightening an arm around your waist and flipping you onto your back, pressing your body into the mattress with his.
“You never answered my question,” he said, his voice husky, desperate. He toyed with one of your breasts while he devoured your neck, biting and licking and kissing.
“What… what was the question?” you panted, your mind spinning.
He laughed into your skin, low and sensual, making your back arch. “Are you happy?”
You took your face in his hands, guiding him to look at you. His fingers stopped, his eyes open and yearning. “I’m home, Az. You’re my home. I’ve never been happier.”
His smile lit up his entire face, and he kissed you sweetly. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he murmured.
He continued kissing you slowly and lovingly before the two of you got heated again. You tugged at his shirt and he helped you peel it off. He leaned against you, and you reveled in the feeling of his skin against yours, the feel of his muscled back under your fingers.
Your breath got stuck in your throat as he kissed down your body while sliding your panties down your legs, eventually settling his face in between your legs, his mouth hovering an inch from where you needed him.
“Az,” you groaned, twining your fingers in his hair.
You could’ve sworn you heard a soft grunt before his mouth connected with your center and you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming.
“We’re the only ones here, you know,” he said, eyeing you mischievously, sliding a finger into you while his mouth was occupied.
“Meaning?” you panted.
He smirked, sliding another finger into you. You gasped, your back arching off the mattress. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he said, his voice velvet.
Before you could react, he ducked his head back down, sucking hard on your clit, while pumping his fingers in and out of you.
You couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from you, tugging at his hair, pulling him further into you.
Laughing into your skin, he splayed his free hand over your stomach to stop your squirming and continued devouring you.
Eventually, you needed more. “Azriel?”
“Hmm?” he hummed against you, his mouth still working.
“If you don’t take your pants off right now, I might die,” you said, your voice breathy.
He finally took his mouth off you, leaning his head back and laughing louder than you’d ever seen from him. The sound was deep, filling the room. It made your heart swell.
Sliding off the bed, his eyes laser focused on you, he said “I suppose I can’t allow that, can I?”
He held your gaze as he slowly slid his pants off. When he was naked before you, he stalked towards you, his eyes predatory.
You gulped, trying not to show how surprised you were at the size of him.
Azriel was smirking, more smug than you’d ever seen him. He placed his elbows on either side of your head, hovering over you. “Was there something you wanted?” he teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge.
You scowled at him and he grinned. “You know what I want,” you groaned.
He cocked his head, feigning ignorance.
“You were so much nicer before,” you mumbled, still trying and failing to pull his muscled body on top of yours.
Leaning his lips down so they were hovering just over yours, he whispered, “I want you to say it.”
Your mouth fell open. “I can’t,” you squeaked.
He smirked. “I’m your mate. You can tell me anything.”
Sighing, you looked to the ceiling, unable to look him in the eyes. “I want you.”
“You already have me,” he said, lightly nipping at your throat. “What do you want me to do?”
“Azriel.”
He laughed lightly. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to take a guess then.”
Before you could respond, he slid into you, groaning as he did so.
He leaned his forehead against yours, forcing you to look up at him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him, saying “Did I guess correctly?”
Biting your lip, you nodded and he grinned.
“Ready for more?”
You groaned in response, unable to speak.
Slowly, he started moving in and out of you. The two of you moaned in unison.
He groaned, “You feel --”
“So good,” you finished, and he let out a breathy laugh, moving his hips faster.
Azriel was gazing at you with so much love and affection as he was moving in and out of you, you could barely breathe. You placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against your mouth, his breathing ragged.
You couldn’t believe you had eternity to do this with your mate.
---
Azriel did not leave your bedroom that day. Frankly, he never wanted to leave it again.
He knew he probably could’ve kept going long into the night, but he could tell that you needed a break, so the two of you had settled against the pillows. You were now asleep, your head on his chest, your fingers lightly gripping his waist.
His heart swelled as he lightly ran his fingers through your hair, savoring the feeling of being in love and having you close to him.
He never wanted to let go.
#acotar#acotar fic#acotar one shot#acotar x reader#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel one shot#azriel x you#azriel fluff#ACOTAR smut#ACOTAR fanfiction#acotar fanfic#azriel fanfic#azriel smut
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Its canon that bi han is mean to everyone now imagine he starts liking reader and is usually mean to her but now that he has a crush on her he flirtingly teases her and kuai or johnny witnesses the scene as is like " what was that.." bi hans like what??? And they're like "dude your totally flirted with her??"
Weee I love soft Bihan, doing a headcanon sort of style if that’s ok! (Even though I usually like the small text, gonna use the normal text for this one)
Tw: soft Bi-han, fem reader, no use of y/n
Despite Bi-han’s demeaning nature, you actually loved to be around him. Something about him just seemed so, gentle. Anyone would look at you as if you grew a second head if you told them this.
It took a while, of course, to get him to actually enjoy your presence; not that you knew this. You were pretty oblivious to his advances, assuming it was just his blunt nature making your heart race. The only sign you actually picked up on, was that he stopped forcing you to leave. You thought he just tolerated you, much like his brother Tomas, but it was more than that.
You had just finished a vigorous training session, beads of sweat formed at your brow. With a huff, you stood to wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. Just as you thought to go relax, have some tea, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. None other than Bi-han himself, walking alongside his brother Kuai Liang. Presumably, they had come here to speak with Liu Kang.
Despite the reasoning for their visit, you walked over with a skip in your step and smiling from ear to ear. “Bi-han!” You called out, a bright eyed grin on your face. A barely noticeable shift occurred in him, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, and his eyes softened subtly. What didn’t go unnoticed, was the pace he took when approaching you. Kuai Liang’s keen eye observed Bi-Hans stride become quicker and wider. He was rushing to greet you.
The two of you stood looking at each other for a moment, before your gaze averted to the floor. His eyes were intense, and not as frozen as they used to be. “W-what brings you here?” You asked, more so murmuring in his general direction than speaking.
Eventually, Kuai Liang managed to catch up, standing beside his brother. He didn’t mean to ease drop, but curiosity got the better of him. As you two conversed, he could see the way his brother visibly changed around you. For the first time, Kuai Liang watched his brother melt.
“You look beautiful,” Bi-han blurted out, playing it off with his usual stoic expression. Both you and Kuai Liang were taken aback by this compliment. Your face bursted into a series of red shades, “y-yo-“ you cleared your throat, “you look great too!”
As the conversation ended, Bi-han waved you off with a nod and watched your retreating form with a gaze of longing. Kuai Liang, his face still wide eyed and stunned by his brother’s sudden change, turned to look at Bi-han. “I’ve never seen you flirt, brother, she must be special.” He smirked. Bi-han grunted, his scowl returning once again, “come, let us speak with Liu Kang.”
#fanfic#fanfiction#mk1#mortal kombat#mk1 2023#mortal kombat1#mk1 x reader#request#bi han sub zero#mk bihan#bihan x reader#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han x you#bi han#bi han mortal kombat#bi han x y/n#no use of y/n#fem reader#mk1 bi han#mk bi han#mk1 bi han x reader#mk bi han x reader#bi han imagine#bihan mk1#mortal kombat fandom#mortalkombat1#mortal kombat sub zero#mk1 sub zero#mk sub zero
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Chasing Cars | teaser (jjk)
☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: alcohol consumption, curses
☆word count: 1.1k
☆a/n: teaser time babyyyy!! I hope you guys love it :') thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3
☆series masterpost
☆add yourself to the taglist here!
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
The hour is late. Jungkook is tipsy, far more than he thought he’d get tonight, but then again, Taehyung is not in a better state, and Sera, Jimin’s girlfriend, had to force him to go home before they got too drunk.
They’re all supposed to help Taehyung’s little sister move in tomorrow, Jungkook included.
“Man,” Taehyung lets out, and Jungkook looks away from the game of Smash they’re playing - that he’s majestically losing - to focus on Taehyung.
“What?” he lets out.
“Can’t believe Y/n will be here tomorrow,” Taehyung answers.
“Can’t believe you’re forcing me to live with a girl.”
Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t worry, Y/n is chill.”
Jungkook doesn’t doubt she is, considering how well he gets along with Taehyung, and Taehyung’s made it seem that he gets along well with his sister. He imagines Y/n’s just going to be a mini Taehyung, which frankly could be fun to have around.
But he doesn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she is Taehyung’s little sister.
“You know,” Taehyung adds as the game finishes. “I meant to tell you something.”
Jungkook cocks his pierced eyebrow in question. “Yeah?”
“Just wanted to say that if you touch my sister, you’re fucking dead.”
Jungkook bursts out laughing, shaking his head, but Taehyung remains entirely serious. Like he meant what he just said - could he?
“You’re joking right?” Jungkook asks as his laughter fades away.
“No, I’m dead ass,” Taehyung insists. “You breathe in her direction, and you’re dead.”
“Damn.” Jungkook widens his gaze, and then picks up the beer he’s been slowly drinking since Jimin left. “Understood.”
Hell, Jungkook knows that he sleeps around. Taehyung does the same - he can’t help but understand Taehyung when he says to stay away from his sister. And he thinks it’ll be easy. Y/n’s probably just going to be a clueless baby college kid, and though Jungkook doesn’t mind going for younger, he’ll have plenty of new faces to explore once Frosh week starts next week anyways.
So he promises Taehyung he has nothing to worry about, and they play a couple more games before they head to bed.
Jungkook wakes up early the next morning, the sun shining right in his face the most efficient alarm he’s ever used before. He wants to go to the gym before helping Taehyung’s sister, and though he hates being awake so early, he immediately forces himself to get up lest he falls back asleep.
His workout goes well, and he’s pleasantly sore when he heads back home. He’s lucky - he manages to park not too far from the apartment. He’s walking home, gym bag in one hand and his phone in the other, when Taehyung texts him to ask where he is.
Jungkook types ‘Fuck off’, pressing send as his attention is solely on his phone.
Until said phone flies out of his hand as he collides with a girl he didn’t notice, and Jungkook watches in horror as the device falls in a flower bed.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you immediately dive into the flower bed, retrieving Jungkook’s phone.
You hand it to him, and Jungkook just stares at you, mouth agape. He’s aware he’s staring and that he probably looks stupid, but he’s dumbfounded.
You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot.
“Don’t worry about it,” he answers quickly when you cock an eyebrow, your cheeks slowly turning red. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“At least it didn’t break,” you say, and you flash him a quick smile.
It does things to his heart that Jungkook barely comprehends - it’s like his heart is going miles a minute, yet it’s soothing, warm, much like the pavement feels in the summer when the sun has just dipped below the horizon.
“Right, yeah,” Jungkook answers, and his cheeks burn.
His cheeks fucking burn, and he wishes he could just disappear, dive below the ground until you can’t see him anymore. You just keep on smiling, eyes never disconnecting from his, and he wonders if you, too, feel like he does.
Shit, he thinks he might even hear bells in the distance.
You glance away, and it’s like he’s falling forward while not moving at all, and all he can do is pathetically clear his throat, as if that’s going to offer any help.
“I see you’ve met Y/n!” Taehyung yells from behind you, and Jungkook freezes.
Jungkook freezes, and then something burns in his lungs, like he’s under the surface struggling for futile oxygen he knows he won’t find.
You are… Taehyung’s sister.
You’re Y/n.
His best friend’s little sister.
The one thing Jungkook can’t have.
It makes him feel cold, his heart suddenly dropping in the Arctic sea amongst the icebergs.
“We literally ran into each other,” you say, looking back towards your brother.
And Jungkook sees it - your hair is the same shade as Taehyung’s, your face has the same shape. The smile though - your smile is different from Taehyung’s, and maybe that’s why he was fooled.
Fooled for a few seconds which felt like an eternity.
You walk away then, heading to the open back door of a car. You grab a box, and Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket, eyeing a bag on the backseat.
“Do you want me to bring this in?” he asks.
Only because he wants you to look at him again. His heart flutters in his chest when you do, and he forces it down with a swallow as you nod once.
“Yes, please!”
Jungkook nods too, and he grabs the bag before following you in. His right foot lands on the first step leading to the apartment when Taehyung stops him with a hand on his arm.
Jungkook frowns slightly, meeting his best friend’s gaze.
“I’m serious, JK,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. “You fucking touch her, you’re dead.”
And Jungkook knows right then and there that he’s fucked. Entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.
Because he already wants you, and he hasn’t even talked to you for more than twenty seconds.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures Taehyung, and he hopes Taehyung can’t hear how fake he sounds.
How is he supposed to resist indulging in you when he already knows you’re all he’s ever wanted?
He really is entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.
☆☆☆☆☆
Chapter one coming on May 10th, 2024!
What did we think? Are we excited to read?? Let me know here!
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
Taglist: (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you)
@jjkluver7 | @lavender2ari | @srslythis-ismylife | @starlight-1010 | @mggv97
@cookysstuff | @02010802 | @kookieleshgo | @biaswreckersinc | @hera19
@ice | @nightapple | @jungkussyficrecs | @boyfriendtaekook | @montyfbaybee
@babystarcandyjk97 | @goldentea10 | @lovingkoalaface | @parapiop7 | @parking-lotnights
@junecat18 | @blr1004 | @buddybops | @kookssecret | @busandbby_jjk
@superchamchi88 | @goldenjeonkoo | @raraluvz | @lovelye79 | @boyswithjun
@skzthinker | @michellekosmos | @8balljk | @kooklovee | @kingofbodyrolls
@ll4l | @kissyfacekoo | @ggukiepie | @moon-gyi | @apples0-0
@jcrl99 | @iammeandmeisiam | @kookoo-kachoo | @marvelbun | @lalaren
@sugas-baby-girl | @glossminmin03 | @kocoreads | @carriereadsbooks | @aiiselle90210
@FeyOcean | @khuderutu | @stuti2904 | @ziya.exe | @shortnspicier
@wiseboojumtree | @bobagukks | @vrusha01 | @lilyy07 | @younhakim29
@screamertannie | @wisebouquetbarbarian | @pixiekook | @nanjeonlangakook | @jcnggukie
@ggukkieland | @phanniefoo | @jksctrl | @sp1derk0ok | @hyukal0ml
@mysjammy | @lesiacapouille | @shearttttttttt | @hobibbb | @mochifuzz
@kooksbunnnn | @moonchilddna | @libra04 | @vminkookgf | @jayrielle27
@tulips4u | @jinniejax | @chimmisbae | @sumzysworld | @imene_ghd
@gguksflowers | @sadgirlroo | @kissme-ornot | @mar-lo | @kazkookiekazookie
@infiresyg93 | @junggukjeonfreakinwife | @sweet-pinee | @chimchimmarie | @pamzn
#chasing cars teaser#chasing cars#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#jungkook#jungkook fic#jjk smut#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fic#jjk#btswritersclub#jeon jungkook#chasing cars series
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We can all agree that our little gremlin boy Lan has a big head, don't we? Like we love him, he's cute(hot af too), but boy was blessed with a big head 😅 so I just had the funniest scene of his wife complaining to him about his big head while drowned in hormones when she's pregnant with Tilly. Like really complaining, but laughing at the same time, and maybe his sisters or max and P are cackling while he tries not to laugh too much not to hurt her feelings,but they all end up having a laughing fit together 😆
Note: when I was a baby, my head was so big that I had to get a series of tests and scans to rule out any problems! In the doctor's words, fortunately, the only problem I would have was finding a hat that fits! So I relate to this very much - also, absolutely agree with all you've said!
Cw: reader is pregnant
The annual Norris family summer vacation was well underway by the time you decided which days you wanted to spend on the boat, Oliver and Savannah staying inside with the girls along with Adam and Cisca who decided they would make lunch for everyone.
"Do you know what I have just realised?", you spoke to Flo as you both watched Lando and Cisca's boyfriend jump into the water, "your brother has a massive head - like, it's really big, specially when you compare to Max's", you pointed to your husband's best friend.
That morning, you cried about the fact that your bikini dug on your hips only for Lando to tell you that you hadn't tired the sides properly and that you had more than enough room to accommodate your growing body, so right now this was a way better way to deal with the rush of hormones you were having.
"I think we all do, to be fair - Cisca has the smalled one I guess", Flo squinted as she looked at her sister who walked closer to you.
"Why are you looking at me like that?", Cisca wondered.
"I've just realised how big your brother's head is and how I'm probably going to be split apart when this little girl - little body but surely a big head - joins us", you rubbed your bump as tears formed in your eyes.
"Oh, Y/N, my friends have had babies with big heads and they're fine", Pietra offered, "they were just fine", she said before waving at Max so him and Lando could come to the rescue.
"I don't know why I'm crying, which makes this even worse - Goodness", you wiped your eyes and chuckled, "I can feel her head, it's about here from what I remember from the scans - and it's big, like, really big! How is that going to work?", you blurted.
"What's the matter? Is everything alright? Y/N, are you good? Is it Tilly?", Lando asked worriedly as he saw you break into a fit of giggles and seeing the girls fight their laughter a bit before joining.
"The matter is that you have a big head and Tilly's will also be big", you explained, "I'm not the tiniest person ever, so there's definitely room but can you imagine? I have to ask your mother how big your head was when you were born because I feel like I need to do prep work for it", you mused, "it's all natural until you decide to have a kid with the guy who has a big head".
"Oh, Y/N has gone dark", Max muttered, earning himself a swat on his forehead from Pietra, "what? Did I lie?", he hissed, containing his laughter.
"I'm not sure what you'd like me to do here, my love", Lando admitted, sitting next to you and attempting to squeeze your thigh lovingly, knowing the affectionate gesture could go both ways.
"Our baby is making me feel like I have the emotional and cognitive skills of a toddler", you mumbled as you cuddled your husband, supporting your bump with a pillow Flo got for you as you both layed down.
"It's okay, Y/N, I don't mind having to reason with you - we'll consider this practice for when we have our little one, okay beautiful?", Lando kissed your forehead.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
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love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.
Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.
Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.
Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.
A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀
----
It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.
Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.
"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."
In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.
The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.
Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.
So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.
A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.
And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.
The first step is submission.
All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.
So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.
Praise.
It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.
Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.
"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.
Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.
And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.
Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.
The second step is acceptance.
Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.
Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.
All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.
Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.
Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.
"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.
"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.
Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.
He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.
When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.
"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.
"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.
So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.
It doesn't take long.
One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -
"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"
You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -
"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.
"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"
"I don't think of you as my dog!"
"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."
It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.
Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.
"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.
"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.
"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."
"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.
"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"
When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.
"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"
This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -
"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."
"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.
"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."
"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.
"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.
"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.
"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.
"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."
Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.
"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.
"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.
"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.
You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.
But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.
"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.
He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.
Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.
While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.
"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.
He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.
"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.
"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.
"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.
"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.
Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.
The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.
After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.
Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.
Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.
So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.
But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.
He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.
"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.
"Thanks, it's Ollie's."
"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.
Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.
Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.
In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.
"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.
"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.
The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -
"Good dog."
But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.
On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.
Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.
But he does, of course.
There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.
Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.
Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.
"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.
"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.
"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."
"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."
Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.
"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.
"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.
"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.
Not that Oliver actually minds.
Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.
When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.
Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.
"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."
Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.
"Ollie, what are you -"
"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.
"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.
Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.
"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.
"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.
"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."
"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.
"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.
"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."
"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.
"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.
"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.
"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.
"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.
Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.
"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.
"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.
Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -
"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.
"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.
"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.
Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.
"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.
"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."
Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.
"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.
"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.
A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.
And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.
"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.
Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -
"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.
"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.
"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.
Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.
So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.
"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.
You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.
Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.
"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.
"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -
"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.
"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"
"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.
"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.
"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.
"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.
"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.
"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.
"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.
"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.
"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.
"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.
It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.
"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.
But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.
"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."
Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.
"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."
Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.
"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"
"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -
"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."
Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.
Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.
Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.
A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.
Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.
Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.
Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.
"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.
"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.
Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.
Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.
#felix catton x reader x oliver quick#felix catton x reader#saltburn x reader#saltburn imagine#felix catton imagine#oliver quick x reader#oliver quick imagine#felix catton x y/n#oliver quick x y/n#felix catton smut#oliver quick smut#head heart hand fic#manic writer#okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me
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I think- I think you might be my person.
Buddie or BuckTommy if it sparks joy 💞🦛
Oh, we're going for the feels today huh? Have some Buddie feels, just for you my love 🥰🫶
"I think - I think you might be person."
The words hang heavy between them, thick with unspoken meaning. There's yearning behind them, years of bitten back "I love you" and "don't leave me" and "please stay, I need you." But finally, Buck will speak them, no longer afraid of the consequences. He's ready. They're ready.
Eddie looks a little stunned, his mouth hanging open slightly as he looks at Buck, takes in the open vulnerability of his expression. They're so close, just a couple more steps and they'll be there. Buck waits with bated breath, praying Eddie will take the cue and take Buck's tender, open heart delicately in his hands.
"I- we're best friends, Buck, I should hope I'm your person."
He's deflecting, Buck can tell. Eddie's had years of repression and Catholicism that've taught him to box away all his feelings and not allow himself to be authentically him.
But not anymore. They're allowed to be happy. They're allowed to have this, to have each other. Buck just needs to take that step that Eddie can't do himself, because Eddie will never let himself have something if he doesn't think Buck will want it too.
"No, Eddie. That's not what I mean, I'm not-" he sighs, mentally weighing up his options. He could back out now, pretend he was just talking about their friendship. But then they'd be back in that revolving door of bad decisions and unspoken words and Buck can't do that anymore. He won't.
"Fuck it. Eddie, you're my person because you're the most important thing in my life. You and Christopher. You're my best friend, yeah, but it's more than that, right? Every day I wake up and you're the first thing I think about. When we're not together, I feel empty, but when you're by my side it's like I'm whole, like a piece of me has been returned to my body. You're my person because there is no one else in this world I would rather spend every day with than you. I trust you with my life."
Eddie's eyes are soft and they shine with unshed tears. He's biting his lip and Buck wants nothing more than to run his thumb over it and release it from his teeth, and tenderly capture his lips with Buck's own. But he needs to finish what he's saying. Eddie has to hear it.
"Eddie I can't imagine a life without you. The sun rises and sets on you, the world revolves around you and I-" his voice breaks and he ducks his head. He can't go on, he can't say it, he's not strong enough, he's not-
Eddie's fingers curl under his chin and slowly, gently, he raises Buck's head so their eyes meet. God he's so beautiful. He's truly the most beautiful person Buck has ever seen.
"Go on," he whispers, his voice cracked and raw with emotion. "Please."
Buck sucks in a breath. It's now or never.
"I love you."
It's like the air has been knocked out of Eddie and his breath hisses from him. Buck can't breathe. The oxygen has been sucked from the room, and he can't breathe, not until Eddie speaks. Until he confirms that Buck hasn't fucked this up and read all the signals wrong.
"Please say something," he begs.
Eddie takes a step closer, his fingers never leaving Buck's chin. The gap between them closes until they're chest to chest, nose to nose, close than they've ever been before. Eddie's lips ghost against his, a tentative brush, as though he's testing the waters. Buck tilts his head ever so slightly and, emboldened, Eddie kisses Buck properly this time, their lips moving in sync with one another and oh, this is what's been missing from Buck's life.
It's like the world has a new meaning now because hold fuck, Eddie is kissing him. His best friend, the love of his life, the man he'd almost convinced himself he would never be allowed to have, is kissing him back as though he feels the same. There's such tenderness and emotion with the way Eddie kisses him, as though they were born for this. As though they were made for one another. Two halves of a whole, destined to be with one another regardless of circumstance.
Eddie pulls away from him and rests his forehead against Buck's, his lips pressed tightly together. He's breathing heavily and fast, as though he's moments away from a panic attack.
Buck gently touches Eddie's arm, just above the elbow. Eddie doesn't pull away, staying completely still.
"Eds?" Buck says, voice quiet and full of choked up emotion.
Eddie licks his lips and takes a deep breath, as though steeling himself, and Buck feels sick. He's going to say he doesn't feel it, that Buck is alone in this journey, that they're just friends and Buck has misread the signs. Eddie can't, he won't, won't ever-
"I love you too."
Send me a ship and a sentence and I'll finish it!!
#james answers things#james writes#this one also got away from me#and it's entirely your fault for giving me THAT sentence#I hope this was what you wanted 🫶🫶#buddie#buddie ficlet#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 buddie#911 abc#911#eddie x buck#buddie 911#buddie fic#buddie wip
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Lover, be good to me
Something small I wrote at the bus station to quell my boredom! Dottore 🫶
Dottore held his breath as your hands moved to his mask. It wasn't something he had ever allowed you to do before - that sort of trust and vulnerability had been lost to him for many, many years - but you were different. You were the closest thing to perfection that he knew of; who was he to continue pushing you away?
His heart hammered against his chest. What would you think of his true face? Dottore's ruby eyes no longer bore the fury of his younger segments, but what of his scars? He had long accepted them - refusing to erase them even when faced with the opportunity. The marred skin on his forehead and the bridge of his nose was hardly something anyone had admired before; Dottore still vividly remembered the contempt with which the lowly scholars of the Akademiya would look at him. Surely, you wouldn't be the same?
Your fingers gently unclasped his beak-shaped mask. When your eyes met his, you smiled softly, and Dottore couldn't fathom it.
How could you? How could you not recognize the monstrosity before you?
He let you cup his jaw, trail his cheekbone with your thumb.
"Charming," you murmured, "your eyes are akin to trishiraite."
The comparison felt a tad ironic, but Dottore hardly cared; not when your eyes glimmered with so much affection.
All for him.
He found it hard to believe - that he could be anything but disgusting to you. You, who's visage easily rivaled that of the gods. Beautiful and delicate you - a Sumeru rose yet to be trampled by the rishboland tiger.
"You're beautiful."
"Hardly," he muttered.
You shook your head, "no, really. I fail to see what you find so terrible about yourself."
Had he been any younger, any more foolish, Dottore would have protested; you were wrong, wholly and entirely wrong, but Dottore could play pretend for a moment.
When would the other shoe drop?
Instead of whatever horrible thing Dottore imagined you would do, you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Corners of your soft lips tilted upwards, you gazed at him with more love than he could comprehend.
You were careful not to touch his scars, but your gaze lingered anyway. Dottore felt naked - predator turned prey. He wanted to push you away; the urge would never really leave, he reckoned. Centuries spent in solitude had affected him in ways that could never be changed. Though, the tender way in which you brushed his hair from his face made Dottore reconsider.
His eyes closed when you leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your lips found his nose, his cheeks, his jaw - not an inch of his face left untouched. Dottore drew you closer by the waist, lost in the affection you gave him.
"My Zandik," you said softly. "Beautiful Zandik."
Beautiful he could never be, Dottore thought, not when you stood before him. He thought you blinded by your emotions - your words were entirely influenced by your preexisting affection for him. Had he been but a stranger to you now, would you still have seen him as anything more than a monster? Would you have admired him anyway?
Perhaps. After all, you were unlike the others; delicate and pure and sweet, untainted by those around you.
"I prefer you without the mask," you said, "please, wear it less around me."
Dottore hummed, feigning doubt. Deep down, he knew he would abide by your words without a second thought.
"If that is what you want."
With each kiss you bestowed upon him, Dottore could almost believe it - that he really, truly was worthy of your tenderness after all.
#dottore x reader#il dottore x reader#il dottore#zandik#waaaa dottore fluff?#genshin impact#my writing
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hi friends 👋
i just wanted to stop by to share some of the fics which i always return to and are now like comfort food for me. all of these awesome writers also inspired me to start posting here back in march so thank you. i appreciate you more than i could ever say 🤍
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be my mistake by @alovesreading
probably one of the first 75 fics i ever read once i got back on tumblr late last year. it is heartbreaking but i cannot stop myself from re-reading it every once in a while. a is such a sweet and talented person with so many amazing fics that you should check out if you haven't. another one of my faves by her is quarter past midnight, for all of the ross girlies out there.
body piercer!matty by @sugar-coat-it
i mean, there's not much i can say about our favourite mohawked punk boy. my dearest belle killed it with this au and he's become one of my go-to matty's in this world. i'd kill for a night with him lol. ilysm belle and whenever i see your handle pop up on my feed i cannot help but smile.
truth serum by @imagine-that-100
this fic is so freaking sweet and i love it so much. again, this is another one which i found soon after i came back to tumblr. if you even need a little pick-me-up, reading this will do the trick. matty taking care of you will always be a fave trope of mine. @imagine-that-100 has also created other beautiful au's and if you are ever looking for some alex turner x reader fic, will we talk? is beyond.
costumes by @toomuchracket
roleplay with matty in his lab coat? sign. me. up. this fic fucked with my mind in the best way possible. i think it was my first introduction to birthday party!matty. needless to say, i was instantly hooked. mads is an incredible writer and all of her au's are :chef's kiss:
playing on my mind by @ughgoaway
if you for some reason haven't read any of ace's teacher au, please do it tonight. you won't regret it. they've done an amazing job at building such a beautiful, cozy world that makes you feel like you're part of it. ace, i'll never be able to thank you enough for this.
truth or dare by @abiiors
brother's best friend daniel my beloved. a first time fic will always get me and this one stuck in my mind since the first time i read it. the amount of time i've spent reading vee's work should be alarming, but i don't care. i cannot get enough of it.
the dress by @kennedy-brooke
i'm usually a matty girl (surprise to no one here) but this george fic is amazing. the text exchange between george and matty is golden, and the smut is just... yeah. another one i've read way too many times but will never get tired of it. thank you so much @kennedy-brooke for this piece of gold.
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if you have the time, make sure to check out their work if you haven't already. i assure you won't be disappointed.
there are so many other amazing writers in this community so i'll have to do a part 2 of this so it doesn't get too long.
thank you for reading!
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HIS LITTLE HOUSEWIFE (YANDERE TAESOO MA X READER)
Not me having delusional fantasies and living in my delulu era of being a housewife for a possessive guy...my sanity is messed up and I think I need help lol. But I'm a huge sucker for wearing those pink aprons and having mittens on my hands while my imaginary non existent husband nuzzles my neck...I really need help at this point...
By no means did Taesoo ever think there would be a time when he would end up falling in love with someone so much to the point that he would literally be willing to kidnap them to ensure they become his. Had anyone ever told him that fine day would come he would have just laughed in their face and would have ended up punching the lights out of them while mumbling something about how he doesn't see the need for love. The years pass by and he'd rather take this to the grave than ever admit it for crying out loud but he felt like he needed a companion in life. A strange feeling of emptiness would settle inside his heart whenever he'd stroll through the streets of Ansan and see people happy with their families, of course, he had his own brat of a student Hudson to consider a son, but what he needed was a partner. Someone to protect and someone to love and that's when he met you
He didn't really believe in the concept of love at first sight but there was something about you that just exuded charm, grace and innocence. You were much shorter than him and he couldn't help but he slightly amused how short you were compared to him, he could literally lift you by your arms like you were a child as his imposing large muscular frame towered over yours. The way you spoke, the way you smiled that beautiful smile of yours, he could feel his heart growing warm and his cheeks getting slightly flushed. His mind would start working in an overdrive and it doesn't really take that long for him to fall in love with you. You're a precious doll in his eyes, you remind him of an innocent little thing that needed his protection. His eyes wandered to your lips, wondering how soft those lips of yours were if he'd kissed them, what sort of cute noises you would be making solely for HIM and him alone while he kisses you and holds you in his strong arms and shields you from the outside world because you're way too precious for that
It won't matter how you've met him, the only ending you'll be having is being with him. He'll obviously ask Hudson to find out more about you to which he'd agree although he cannot help but detect slight amusement in his student's voice when he gets to know about his infatuation and obsession for you but all in all, he honestly doesn't really blame him. What's not there to love about you, he can't wait to have you all for himself, hidden away from the prying eyes of the other lecherous filthy men who dare to eye what's his with no shame whatsoever far away on his mountain in his cabin where it would be just the two of you. He's already imagining how blissful married life with you would be, how adorable you'd look going around the house and taking care of him and the house with your gentle loving personality that he fell in love with. He doesn't think his feelings for you are spiraling out of control, he just sees it as a way of keeping you safe from the dangers of the world. He'd know PLENTY about it because of all the nonsense that keeps happening around Ansan everyday and the things he's been through
It's not an easy change and transition for you when you find out that he's literally kidnapped you and laced your food with sleeping pills under the pretext of having dinner with him one night. Of course, part of him definitely feels bad that he had to slip sleeping pills in your food but his obsessive love for you and possessive tendencies overlap his sense of rationality and whatever logic he had in his mind was gone out of the window as his mind is filled with thoughts of how all this is for your own good and it's to keep you safe. He knows it'll take a while for you to adjust to your new life with him but he doesn't mind, take all the time you need. He's more than willing to be patient for you and since he treats you with gentlemanly chivalry and would rather bust an artery than hurt you physically or emotionally, it won't be long till you develop the Stockholm syndrome for him
By now you've grown accustomed and used to living with him and the two of you had a small private wedding where only trusted friends of his arrived for the occasion. Of course, he had to resist the urge to literally throttle Jaegyon Na by his neck when he saw him trying to use cheesy pick up lines on you with that stupid smirk of his. Even he got used to seeing you waddle around the cabin in that cute little pink apron hugging your body busying yourself with chores like cooking or other household activities. He wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your neck and plants a few gentle loving kisses on your cheeks and lips telling you how much he loves you and holds you tightly in his possessive grasp, like he's worried you'd end up running off at any given second. It was so alluring and mesmerizing to watch you take care of the house, you were the reason he felt like his heart now had warmth. You were the reason his house was now a home with your elegant bright presence
You started getting a bit restless recently. You felt slightly guilty as you watched him come back with a somewhat tired expression at times and you felt like easing his burden and stress. A few days later, the two of you were seated at the table and having the dinner that you made. "My love...your culinary skills are amazing as always'' spoke Taesoo in a gentle tone with a soft smile on his face as he ate his food from his plate. He loved having whatever you made for him since it was made with your love and your delicate hands, what sort of husband would he be for you if he wouldn't eat his wife's cooking? You smiled but only briefly as your mind was occupied on asking him something that you were slightly apprehensive about and you had that distant and pensive look on your face, looking lost in thought. He instantly knew there was something on your mind, he could always read you like an open book and could decipher your every action and thought
"My dear, there is something on your mind...isn't there?" asked Taesoo as he surveyed your features with calculating eyes, trying to detect whether or not you'd tell him about your thoughts. His statement might have looked like it was a question but it was a formality with the hidden underlying implication for you to tell him about what was bothering you. You let out a sigh and looked at him and fiddled your thumbs nervously. "Taesoo...um...is it okay if I could get a job? Or could I resume my old job?' you asked him with a soft voice and looked at him with a hopeful expression, your heart racing in trepidation for his response, however all you were met with was a pin drop silence which filled you with a slight sense of dread. Taesoo immediately stopped eating and his smile vanished as his expression morphed into a stoic one as he looked at you with a calculated gaze. He always encouraged you to follow your hobbies and your passion but you getting a job was a slightly unexpected turn of events for him, a question he wasn't anticipating but was dreading this conversation with you early on beforehand as he rehearsed his answers for this exact moment
Looking at your soft and innocent and hopeful expression made his heart warm with affection for you but he had to be firm with you about this, as your husband, as your protector. You were his wife, he didn't want you out of your comfort zone and didn't like to entertain the thought of you being away from him for even a single second. He hated to be the one to crush that hope in your eyes but it was necessary, to keep you safe. He took your soft hand in his large rough calloused ones and traced gentle circles on the back of your hand to make it easier for you to handle his rejection of the idea you'd just proposed since the thought of other men being around you and looking at HIS wife with their lecherous gazes made him livid and the mere thought alone made him want to punch a hole into a wall
"My dear, you need not worry about getting a job and stressing yourself out about it. Your only concern is to look after the home and let me provide for you. I make enough for the both of us as it is, I don't see any reason for you to be burdened by a job'' he answered with a gentle yet firm look on his face. You pouted slightly at his response and you looked somewhat crestfallen, which he felt bad about. Your pout was adorable yet it stung his heart at the same time. "I know but...I feel somewhat useless just being at home and barely doing anything all day long, I'm not even doing anything useful and I feel bad seeing you work hard and coming back home all tired and sometimes beat up...I thought I could help out as well so you wouldn't need to worry about me being a burden for you'' you mumbled and averted your gaze from his eyes which narrowed as soon as the words left your mouth
Your words tugged at his heartstrings, yet his mind went back to the traditional role of wanting to be your protector and provider as your husband. Your words and thoughts moved him and touched him honestly, you were already precious enough and the last thing he needed was for you to bear burden on those shoulders of yours. He was slightly hurt you saw yourself a burden, he loved coming back home to you and wrapping you in his arms and feeling your soft touches and just being with you. He wished you could see how much his heart soared with affection and ecstasy whenever he'd come back home to you, making him feel like a true king indeed. However his features softened after a few moments when he saw you averting your eyes from his as he pulled you closer to him and made you sit on his lap and he cupped your cheek lovingly and caressed it and made you look at his eyes
"Hush my love, don't speak such nonsense again. You are by no means a burden for me, you are the reason my house feels like a home. Without you, this place would be an empty shell, like it used to before I met you. You mean everything to me, you are my darling wife...let me take care of you just like how you take care of me, you give me so much comfort and peace by being with me...do not fret about such things'' he answered as he continued to stroke your cheek affectionately with a tender loving look in his eyes reserved only for you, his dear wife who reigned over his heart. "I know...but I still feel like a useless housewife though, I feel like I'm barely doing anything'' you whispered with an insecure look in your eyes. Your insecure look cut through his heart like a knife, it pained him to see you be insecure of yourself and doubt yourself so much like this as he chuckled softly and brushed a few strands of hair from your face
"You do not need to worry about such things, you help me out so much with your love. I feel grateful to come back home to you everyday, where I can feel your soft gentle touches and your love for me. That's more than enough...I do not trust the world, I cannot let anything happen to you my love...society these days is dangerous and I will not risk your safety...I want you to be happy and relax, that's all. You're more than enough for me and by no means are you a useless housewife. You look so adorable with your little apron and mittens and the way you bustle around the kitchen cooking in those adorable dresses of yours...you keep the home running, my lovely little housewife...don't ever let me hear you call yourself useless again'' he replied with a soft yet firm tone and you nodded slowly which made him pleased
In the end, you were forced to give up the opinion of you having a job since there was no way he was going to stand for it but it was all for your safety after all. You were his lovely housewife, who provided him with so much love and comfort he could ever hope for and now that he had for you himself, he'd be damned to let you get away from him. Don't worry your pretty little head about anything and just let him provide for you, you're his darling little housewife after all...
#yandere taesoo ma#yandere taesoo ma x reader#yandere taesoo ma scenarios#yandere taesoo ma oneshots#yandere taesoo ma headcanons#yandere taesoo ma imagines#yandere taesoo ma x reader scenarios#yandere lookism characters#yandere lookism characters x reader#yandere lookism x reader#yandere lookism#dark lookism characters x reader#dark lookism x reader#dark lookism characters#dark lookism#lookism headcanons#lookism x reader#lookism#dark taesoo ma#dark taesoo ma x reader#dark taesoo ma x housewife reader
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exactly what he needs, pt. 1 ♡ ⋆｡˚
— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (going to be multi-chapter)
— summary: nate asks you for private tutoring, using the excuse that no one can find out, due to who his father is—the über perfectionist & king of east highland. you agree, since you've tutored others, and do so through a school program, at that. as such, he'll be no different than the rest who've needed your help. as time goes on, though, and the gifts, phone calls, and texts begin to pile up, as well as him driving you to and from school, and his near-constant insistence on "hanging out", you wonder if nate ever really needed academic help in the first place., or if it was all a ruse for something more troubling to take place.
— tags: homework, studying, tutoring, nate lusting after/fantasizing about you & wanting to make you wholly his
— tw: misogyny, lying, dollification, sexualization
— word count: 4,144
— a/n: this is going to be part of a series, as indicated above. this post will serve as part 1. i promise it will get juicier going forward, i just needed to lay some groundwork for the reader & nate.
After McKay's party and Maddy's fucking another guy in his pool for all to see—completely humiliating and emasculating him—Nate was done with her. No, beyond done. He'd wasted how much time, money, and effort on her? All for her to turn out to be the whore he'd always known her to be.
She was always too loud. Too attention-seeking. Too selfish and spoiled. The kind of girl who used the excuse of being "brutally honest" and a refusal to "take any shit" just to be a bitch to whoever she pleased. And she always got away with it, too.
Well, not this time. Not with him. She was going to learn what being on her own finally felt like.
Besides, she'd never been his type. Not really.
She was nice to look at, sure, and he'd thought her loyal. How fucking stupid he'd been to do so. But that was all she'd had going for her in the end.
And then there had been Cassie—one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made had been hooking up with her. He'd thought her different than who she turned out to be. She pretended to be so pure and wide-eyed, when in reality she was fucking psychotic and obsessed with him. He couldn't stomach that level of desperation from a girl.
The night she had completely lost it in his bedroom, screaming about how "crazy" she was had been the last straw.
And the fact she'd so easily betrayed Maddy? Who knew how long before she did the same to him. That was the last thing he needed to worry about.
Nate leans back, barely paying attention to what Ms. Clark is teaching the class at-present. His attention is instead focused on you.
You, who's been there since Nate was five-years-old and in kindergarten. You, who's always been quiet and soft-spoken, reserved and smart, sweet and shy, and who has no reputation whatsoever to speak of—he'd even gone so far as to check for you on SlutPages, and you'd been, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. You were the very definition of innocent.
You, who didn't dress like a slut or go out of your way to get attention. Hell, you didn't even go to parties or football games. Not that he'd ever seen you at either, at least.
He may've looked for you in the stands last Friday night, for whatever reason, despite knowing you wouldn't be there. But he had hoped, even for a moment.
Personality-wise? You were perfect for him. Exactly what he needed; had needed all along. He could kick himself for not seeing it sooner. But better late than never that he did so now.
The way you dressed? He wasn't sure how he felt about it. It suited you well-enough, sure, but he liked to imagine you in cute babydoll dresses, with your hair down and softly curled, a pair of ballet flats on your feet, as opposed to your usual sweaters or blouses, with plaid or high-waisted skirts, your hair typically in a high-ponytail or bun.
He saw your potential, your beauty. Your potential beauty, even.
He knew he needed an excuse to talk to you again after all these years, as he couldn't remember the last time he'd done so—the beginning of middle-school perhaps? He knew you tutored, so he chose the subject you seemed most passionate about—history—and his plan was set.
He spends the remainder of class watching and admiring you. Your delicate handwriting, the soft look in your eyes, your dainty hands, slim shoulders, and your perfect posture. He becomes so engrossed that he jolts when the bell rings, signaling the end of class, ripped from his daydreams of walking down the halls, your hand in his, soft feminine dresses hanging from your frame, your hair falling in soft waves down your back as every guy sees that you're his now.
As every guy realizes that they can look, but never touch, as he presses kiss after kiss to your pink lips, your soft body pressed between his and the lockers, you quietly giggling as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he walks you to your next class.
Ever-polite, you wait until nearly everyone else has rushed out of the classroom before you follow suit.
Nate's already standing behind you and notes how cute it is—your complete obliviousness to his presence. It was refreshing, actually, for a girl not to be throwing herself at him for once.
"Y/N," he says, softly.
You jump, nearly dropping your books. Before you can speak, wondering why he's wanting your attention in the first place—as the two of you never speak—he reaches out, gently taking your books from your arms. He then nods his head toward the door. "I'll walk you to your locker. There's something I'd like to talk to you about."
Completely bewildered, you simply head in the direction of the door and go to your locker. You fumble with the dial for a moment, screwing up the combination the first time, but thankfully getting it on the second.
You take your books from him, placing them all back where they belong before turning to him. "Thank you"
He immediately likes how polite you are. "Welcome," he replies.
As you ready your materials for your next class, you speak again. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
He leans his side against the locker next to yours. How had he never noticed that you were just a few rows down from his own before?
"Before I tell you, I need you to promise me it stays between us. I don't want other people finding out."
It was both a truth and a lie. The lie being that it was, more than anything else, a test. A test to see if even this early on, you'd simply make yourself agreeable to him, if you'd keep a secret simply because he asked you to.
He wants to know how much you'll prod before just caving and giving him what he wants.
You look at him, then. "I..." You trail off for a moment. The first time he speaks to you in how many years and that's the first thing he says to you?
He smirks in understanding of your hesitation. "It's nothing bad, I promise. I'm not about to ask you to hold drugs for me or something."
A bit of reassurance—that much he could offer without issue.
"Okay, I promise."
He fills with satisfaction. Already he can tell you're easily submissive. He hopes for as much, at least.
"I'm uh...I'm not doing too well in history. I got a D on the last test, and I'm close to failing the class as a whole. I was wondering if you'd be willing to tutor me?"
You turn fully toward him, then, filling with understanding. He's ashamed.
You give him a kind, sympathetic look and he adores you all the more for it.
"You don't need to be embarrassed about asking for help, Nate. It's why the school has a tutoring program. You're doing the right thing for yourself." You remove a flyer for said program from your locker, placing your heart-shaped magnet back where it goes. "Here, there's a list of resources and tutors for—"
He immediately cuts you off, shaking his head, placing the flyer back under that same magnet. Because of course you have pastel-colored magnets of hearts and clouds and flowers on the inside of your locker.
He looks at you. "I asked you for a reason. It needs to be kept a secret for a reason. I mean, you know who my dad is: King-Asshole-of-East-Highland. If he found out that I'm almost failing one of my classes, and much more asking for outside help, instead of just taking care of the problem myself..."
He shakes his head again, hoping the my-dad-is-too-tough-on-me-and-expects-nothing-less-than-perfection routine has worked.
You shift from one foot to the other, unable to understand how anyone could see their child taking the steps to actually get help as a bad thing, as a failing, or short-coming. But Cal Jacobs did seem to be nothing if not perfect. Perfect image, perfect job, perfect business, family, home—you name it.
"Why me?" You ask, genuinely curious. There's a whole roster of tutors signed up with the school, not to mention a couple teachers who also offer academic help after-hours a few times a week.
"I've known you my entire life. I trust you to keep this just between the two of us."
Simple enough answer, you think.
You close your locker then. "What subject?"
"History."
Your favorite one, at least. You'd never been the best at math. Had he said it instead, he'd be finding someone else, whether he liked it or not. You'd just get him worse grades in the end, if nothing else.
"Ok, we could um...we could meet at the library. They have study rooms for—"
He interrupts you again. "No, it needs to be your place, if that's ok. I don't want to risk anyone seeing me getting help in public."
Once again, a truth and a lie. More than anything he just wanted—no, needed—to get you alone and all to himself.
"Oh." You hesitate for a moment, but don't really have an excuse as to why you can't do it at your house. So, you relent. "That's fine, I guess. When did you want to start?"
"Today, if that's cool with you."
That soon, you think.
You nod. "Today is fine." Your brows furrow. "Do you know where I live? If not, I could give you my address?"
He smirks. "Or I could just drive us there. I have my truck. You won't have to take the bus."
Won't that arouse suspicion among his friends? The two of you suddenly being seen together? "Your friends won't ask questions?"
He'd not thought of that. Stupid. He simply shrugs, pretending not to care. "If they do, I'll just tell them to mind their own business."
You raise a brow for a moment, doubting they will, but suppose it doesn't really matter to you either way. It's his secret that he's desperate to keep, not yours.
The bell rings, letting you know you have two minutes to get to your next class. "Ok, I'll see you after school then."
"See you then," he replies with a smile.
Once school has let out for the day, you nearly go to get on the bus, then remember just before walking up the first step, that you're being driven home by Nate today.
It's strange to think about: you, with Nate Jacobs, in his truck.
Even when you were little the two of you had never exactly been friends. But you suppose that can always change. Not that you're sure that you want it to.
It seems like wherever Nate goes, drama follows. First with Maddy and whatever had happened weeks ago at McKay's party. Something had happened the night of the fair—something bad—but no one would talk about it. And then he'd apparently gotten with Cassie, which was...a recipe for disaster, to put it plainly.
You don't like drama. Don't like the people who seem to thrive on it. And he certainly seems to be one of them. Someone who's always in the middle of it, at least.
Then you tell yourself you're just being silly. You're going to be tutoring him, that's all. You doubt it will ever even build up to friendship.
Once you've made it into the parking lot proper, you begin to scan it, looking down row after row of vehicles until you see Nate watching you, a smirk on his face as he leans back against the front of his Dodge pickup.
You wait as a car passes, then finally come to stand in front of him, suddenly feeling nervous.
"You ready?" He asks.
As he looks down at you, you only just now realize how much of a disparity there is between your heights. You look up at his towering form, suddenly incredibly self-conscious of how short you are. Somehow it makes you feel childlike...
Meanwhile, Nate absolutely eats it up. It'd be all too easy to toss you around on a bed like a ragdoll, he thinks.
Finally, you nod.
You both walk around to the passenger side, but before you can ask him—your brows now furrowed—what he's doing, he opens the door for you to get in. "Oh, thank you," you say, climbing into the oversized truck.
Who needs vehicles these big...
"Welcome," he says, shutting the door.
As you buckle yourself in, setting your backpack at your feet, you watch as he walks around the front of the truck to get in and internally cringe, wanting to try and climb down into the floorboards to hide, when you see Cassie staring directly at you. If looks could kill, you would've been dead instantly.
You want to get out and tell her it's not what she thinks it is, but you're broken from your staring straight back at her when Nate closes his door and the truck revs to life. After buckling himself in, he looks at you, noticing you've now gone pale.
No way you considered him opening your door as him having already gone too far.
"Everything okay?"
You look at him. "Cassie is staring at us. I think she might think that we're-"
He puts the truck into gear, pulling out of the lot. "Who gives a damn what she thinks."
Once the two of you are on the road, you clear your throat. "Do you know where I live?"
In truth, he doesn't. "No, sorry, you'll have to give me directions."
And you do, until, finally, he pulls into your front driveway.
You're not sure why your stomach is full of butterflies. Perhaps because no one comes over to your house. Ever. You're almost always here alone. Your dad is the only parent you have left—your mother having signed over full-custody of you to him when you were too young to even remember her, and he's always away for work—so hosting company isn't exactly a regular thing.
The house is clean, and you'd also recently been grocery shopping, so it isn't as if you have anything to worry about.
The two of you exit his truck and you make your way to the front door, quickly unlocking it.
Once you've both entered the house, you watch nervously as he takes in the living room.
Your house isn't anything special. It has all the necessities for living and comfort, but it isn't like something out of a magazine.
You tell yourself you're fine with that.
You silently slip off your shoes and Nate does the same, following your lead. You then step onto the plush carpet and turn back to him, still standing before the door. "I'm going to go change and then we can start. The dining room is this way," you say, nodding your head to the right.
You walk through the entryway, into the aforementioned room. You set your backpack down on a chair, then walk straight ahead, through the kitchen, and into your bedroom around the corner.
It's only a moment, but while you change, Nate snoops.
He notices how little your house seems to be lived-in. How neat and tidy and damn-near spotless it is.
And that the two of you are alone.
He silently unzips your backpack, quickly rifling through it. A couple textbooks, some fantasy novel, and your binder. He wants to go through every folder, but refrains, knowing he doesn't have the time and it's too big of a risk. He's fairly certain he won't find anything interesting in it anyway.
Finally, he sits, pulling his history book and tonight's homework out of his own.
When you finally enter the dining room again, Nate looks up. He isn't sure what kind of outfit he'd been expecting, but sweatpants and a light-purple t-shirt hadn't been it.
He wishes you'd worn something that shows off the beautiful body you have instead. Not...that.
He mentally shrugs. You're in your home, trying to be comfortable. He actually really likes that you hadn't put on something meant to impress him.
You aren't fake. Another thing he really likes about you. Not that he's making a mental checklist, or anything.
He sees you eye the other side of the table, but before you can take another step toward it, he pushes out the chair next to him with his foot.
You stop for a moment, then decide sitting next to him is fine, too. So you take the seat he's offered you and notice he's already pulled out his history book and the worksheet you'd both been given for homework as well.
You'd already done yours during your free period.
You slide the book over to yourself and flip it open to the chapter your class is currently working through.
"You're in luck, because the period of history we're going over right now is actually my favorite."
He rests an arm on the wooden dining table, turning toward you. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
You raise a brow. "You don't even know what time period we're working through?" You ask with a smile.
He grins in response. "To be completely honest, I don't really give a shit about history. I know, I know. The whole, if you forget, you're going to repeat it shit. I guess I just don't believe any of that."
"I don't think it's that serious. But if you hope to pass and get past junior year, having the credit for this core class is imperative. And it's the Dark Ages, by the way. Also known as the medieval period."
He snickers. "Imperative, huh?"
You withdraw into yourself. He's making fun of you.
He quickly notices the smile disappear from your face and realizes how he'd sounded. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to mock you. It's just... Nobody talks the way you do. Not at East Highland, at least."
You pretend to take interest in the book sitting before you. "And what way is that?"
"I don't know. Intelligently, I guess." He says it with a shrug.
You give a small smile at that, and he knows he's off the hook.
He sets the worksheet Ms. Clark has given for homework between the two of you.
"Do you know all of this?"
You look at him and nod. "I already got mine done."
"Of course you did. So," he looks down at it. "What is the name of the English civil war fought between the years of 1455-1487?"
He looks at you then.
You glance down to the book. "I don't know, what was the name of it?"
He shakes his head, a playful look on his face as he begins to skim through the pages. He looks up to you, then. "I could just Google all of this."
You lean back in your seat. "You could. But the point of reading the material and studying it, is so you have a chance of actually remembering it when there's a test. Hopefully for even longer, like, once you've graduated as well."
He shrugs again. "It's not all bad, I guess. Also gives me an excuse to talk to you."
He was putting his motives right out in the open now. But instead of you seeing this study session, this request for tutoring as exactly that—a motive to get close to you and make you his—you blush.
You don't know what to say in response, so you just give him the answer. "It's the War of the Roses."
He stares at you for a moment longer, then writes down what you've said.
He leans back. "So, why is this your favorite period of history?"
You look at him. "I guess the romanticism of it, even if it wasn't an entirely romantic time period. Civil war, the plague, men beheading their wives... Did you know most high-fantasy takes its inspiration from medieval Europe?"
He shakes his head, content to continue listening to you talk about something you're passionate about. He likes the way you light up when you do so.
You grow quiet. "Sorry, that sounded stupid."
He shakes his head, resting his arm on the back of your seat. "I don't think so. I may not care for history, but I think it's sweet that you do. I mean, I'm into football. But I'm sure that, just because you're not into it, you'd never call me being on the team stupid."
You look at him. "No, I wouldn't."
He looks over the next question. "Have you ever been to any of our games?"
You shake your head. "Sports aren't really my thing."
"Not everybody comes for the actual game. Some just come to have a good time; get out of the house." He looks at you. "We have another game next Friday. Think you'd be interested?"
He can just imagine it now: you in the stands, your hair in pigtails, wearing one of his old jerseys, cheering him on. And then you running into his arms as he scores the winning touchdown, wrapping your legs around his middle as he lifts you, you bringing your lips down to his.
You telling him how proud you are of him.
You shrug, now feeling awkward at wanting to tell him no. So you don't. "Maybe."
Better than a no, he thinks. He has nearly two-weeks to convince you into a yes.
Once Nate has completed his worksheet and you've checked it for any wrong answers—he'd surprisingly only had a couple—he packs up his things to head home.
You walk him to the door. "You did really good today. Only two wrong answers."
He slips on his shoes. "Well, I have a good teacher."
You smile, letting out a small laugh. "We'll see just how good after our next test."
He clears his throat. "So uh, I was thinking, maybe I could pick you up tomorrow morning? I could start driving you to and from school as a whole. I'm sure my truck beats riding a bus twice every day."
You blanch. "N-no, it's fine, really. I don't mind. And not that you have to continue doing it, but driving me home is more than enough. I don't want to be any trouble."
He shakes his head. "No trouble. It's on my way, really. I'd like to."
He dislikes your hesitancy, even if he understands it. He knows he's coming on too strong right now, but he feels like he can't fucking help himself.
After sitting there with you for the past hour, listening to your voice, smelling your sweet scent, you blushing and laughing at the things he said—not to mention him having to excuse himself to the bathroom at one point to get the erection you'd given him to go back down—he knew he needed more of you. Afternoon study sessions weren't going to be nearly enough.
He leans against the doorway, refusing to leave until you've given him what he wants—how little do you know that's soon to be your future as a whole. Him not stopping until you've caved to him. "Listen, I'm the one who's the burden here. I know tutoring is a thing you do anyway, but not like this. I really appreciate it; you have no idea how much. This is just some small way of me trying to say thank you. Of trying to repay you."
You shift from one foot to the other. "Only if you're sure..."
"Positive."
He fishes his phone out of his pocket. "We should probably exchange numbers, just incase something comes up one morning and one of us is sick, or a I get a flat, or whatever. Or if one of us has to leave school early."
You nod. "Ok."
After you give him your number, he shoots you a text. A simple 'hi'.
You smile at him. "I got it."
He puts his phone back away, determining that today was full of small victories, bringing him a step closer to making you his. "I can pick you up a little after seven. That work for you?"
You nod, your stomach now full of butterflies again. Not because of some crush you'd suddenly developed in the last hour. No. You were worried about vile rumors being spread around the school.
You getting into his truck today, you were sure, had probably already bred one or two of the vicious things.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
You nod. "That's fine."
He gives you a smile. "See you then."
"See you," you reply as he leaves.
You watch from the front door as he drives away.
#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs x y/n#euphoria x reader#nate jacobs imagine
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(Once Bitten) Twice Shy
Chapter Three
Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Chapter Rating : M - frisky but not entirely smutty
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some friskiness and a mention of a self-inflicted cut. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 4.8k
A/N : Keeping with my tradition of Billy going a little feral in the third chapter. Also a tumblr bug keeps messing up my tag lists.
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO
Chapter Three
Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Instead, you found yourself tossing and turning, playing that moment over and over in your mind; the way his dark eyes had seemed to look right through you, the way his cold hand had felt on your neck over your racing pulse. Just thinking about it caused your body to heat and your cheeks to burn with shame.
What would have happened if he hadn’t pulled away?
What would you have let happen?
Fingers gripped the fabric of your satin pyjamas, your hand anchoring itself as you resisted the urge to relieve the gentle throb that still lingered between your thighs.
What had he done to you?
Had he done anything at all?
You weren’t sure. You’d heard stories of vampires seducing people, bending them to their wills but, honestly, it hadn’t felt like that. And if it had been that, why had he pulled away? No, you’d been annoyed with him, you’d wanted to show him that you weren’t some silly naive child who didn’t know what she was doing, only it had backfired.
Eventually sleep claimed you, his words echoing in your mind as you drifted off; ‘like sunlight and innocence, sweet, like warm honey.’
Five hours later, your alarm startled you awake. You felt exhausted but sleep had cleared your head enough to let you think more objectively and to help you realise that you’d been a little ridiculous. His touch had caught you off-guard but he hadn’t done anything to you beyond that and, if anything, you’d been the one thinking about him kissing you. You were the one who had wanted him to kiss you.
As much as you hated to admit it, you were starting to go a little stir-crazy trapped in the penthouse, and Billy was - well, he was just about the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. And while he annoyed you with the smug way he looked at you and the way he spoke to you like he didn’t think you really understood the world that you’d found yourself in, he’d been kind so far. At least, kinder than any employer needed to be to their employee.
In a moment of silliness, you’d allowed yourself to view that kindness as something more, you’d allowed yourself to engage in some ridiculous fantasy that he might kiss you, might want you, when all he’d really done was try to keep you company.
And Lissa had warned you of the effect that your embarrassment could have on vampires. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how your racing heart must have made him feel.
After getting out of bed, you tried to go about your day as usual, trying not to think about the night before but, instead, thinking of ways to avoid it in future. It didn’t take long for you to realise that the only thing that was going to stop you from going stir-crazy was going outside, being able to leave the penthouse for a few hours. You didn’t know what you’d do or where you’d go, but you were certain that it would help.
But you’d need permission to go outside, and that meant you were going to have to ask Billy.
The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed - of course he’d agree, why wouldn’t he? Your job was to provide blood, and all that really took was ten to twenty minutes of your day. As long as there was something waiting for him in the fridge every day, did it really matter where you’d been?
Of course, you understood that there were other rules, things you’d have to remember; only eating food from the approved list (though, once you started thinking about that you weren’t sure why that was so important), no sex (something you were embarrassingly used to), and not letting any other vampires feed from you (which you had no intention of doing regardless of Mr Russo’s rules). The point was that you could stick to his rules just as easily out of the penthouse as you could inside of it so, to your mind at least, there really was no reason for him to refuse to give you permission to go out.
You distracted yourself by doing some baking, paying more attention to the approved food list than you had since arriving. Maybe you’d ask Billy about it, get him to explain why you weren’t allowed to eat certain things. For one little cynical moment, it almost felt like he wanted to control every aspect of your life, even though your job didn’t require it.
Once you’d had dinner, you decided to remain in your rooms, distracting yourself with Netflix for an hour or so before it was time to draw blood and take it out ready for Billy.
You stepped out of your quarters just as he was emerging from his rooms. For a second he seemed almost shocked that you weren’t in your usual place on the sofa, but he didn’t seem to dwell on the thought. Instead his eyes dropped to the blood in your hand.
“Excellent timing,” he said with a grin, heading towards the kitchen.
For a second you hesitated, not saying a word when you finally made your way towards him, watching his back as he pulled an insulated travel mug from a cupboard.
Was going to take your blood with him? Was he going to walk the streets of New York sipping your blood like it was his venti cappuccino from Starbucks? The thought unsettled you, though you weren’t sure why. Still, you placed the bottle down on the counter beside him and took a step back.
“Did you not watch the sunset tonight?” He asked, his attention momentarily turning to you. You shook your head and mumbled something about being tired. If he cared, he didn’t let it show, quickly turning his attention back to your blood. “Still warm,” he remarked quietly, running his teeth over his lower lip as he poured it into his travel mug.
A memory from the night before came back to you, completely unbidden; the sound he’d made, that gentle almost-moan from the back of his throat. Your blood had still been warm then too - was that how he preferred it? Did it remind him of drinking from a person rather than a glass? You shook your head, trying to force that thought away.
“I -” you opened your mouth and the word just tumbled out.
Billy turned back to you, pressing the lid onto the mug in his hand. He waited a beat before prompting you to continue; “yes?”
“I -” you started again, your cheeks warming and your heart beating a little fast. The way his eyes narrowed a little told you that he could hear it, and that just made you feel worse. “I was wondering if I could have permission to go outside tomorrow.”
“Oh,” that single syllable making your request sound banal and trivial. He regarded you for a moment. “No, not to tomorrow,” he decided, but before you could open your mouth to respond, he continued; “we can discuss it tomorrow evening.”
“But, I -” you started but stopped the moment he let out an irritated sigh.
“Are you not happy here? Would you like to terminate your contract?” He asked, as if you’d been asking him for far more than just a few hours outside.
“It’s not that,” you tried to explain, again feeling so small in front of him, “It’s just... lonely being on my own all the time, and being cooped up indoors is -”
“I said we can discuss it tomorrow evening.”
You fell silent, gaze dropping to the floor as he walked away from you, heading towards the elevator. Once he was inside and the door had shut, you kicked the nearest kitchen unit in frustration, achieving nothing but hurting your bare foot.
Storming back to your room, you felt - you felt like a child, like you’d been refused permission to play outside with your friends. It felt like you’d just been grounded, even though you’d done nothing wrong.
But you weren’t a child, you were an adult, and he had no right to make you feel so small and pathetic.
You paced your room in anger, feeling claustrophobic, like you’d never get to leave. He’d make you spend a whole year trapped indoors just because he could. It felt like you’d traded one prison for another by coming to New York, by taking this job. But, if you left now, where would you go?
As much as you wanted to call Lissa and tell her you wanted your things so you could leave, you had no money and nowhere to go but home, and that fate seemed far worse than this one.
Despite feeling tired, you spent another restless night before sleep claimed you, and you woke with a headache that followed you for the rest of the day. You felt listless and, for the first time since arriving, you didn’t want to follow the schedule that you’d created for yourself; you didn’t take a walk on the treadmill, didn’t visit the library to listen to music or read, you could barely even bring yourself to eat beyond some toast for breakfast and noodles for dinner.
He said you could talk about being allowed out that evening but, the longer you were left with that thought, the more you managed to convince yourself that he’d just say no. So, you decided to save him the effort of the conversation. You drew blood early, long before you expected him to emerge from his rooms, and placed it in the refrigerator for him before returning to your bedroom and locking the door.
You spent the rest of the evening just like you’d spent the day; in your pyjamas watching crappy cartoons on Netflix, trying not to think about how you were going to survive a whole year of this when you hadn’t even managed to make it to two weeks before starting to come apart at the seams.
It was easy to lose track of time and fall asleep on the sofa in your room only to wake up a few hours later, uncomfortable and cold. You eventually went to bed, not bothering to set an alarm for the next morning, laying in until some time after midday.
The extra sleep didn’t help matters and, somehow, you still felt exhausted. Something else you decided to blame on being stuck indoors.
You forced yourself to shower and wash your hair before putting on some clean clothes, hoping that it would make you feel a little bit better about yourself. It did, but you definitely hadn’t done yourself any favours by not eating much the day before. You tried to make up for it by cooking yourself a proper meal for dinner.
Drawing blood left you feeling sick but you decided to get it over and done with early, so you could crawl back into bed, but you should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy.
When you stepped out into the penthouse, you were surprised to find him out there, sitting on the sofa, hours before sunset. You faltered, thinking about turning back, but you had blood for him. He didn’t even have to look to realise you were there.
“I must have missed you last night,” he said, finally turning to look at you, ignoring your obvious uncertainty. “Or were you avoiding me?”
“I thought my job was to provide you with blood, not be your friend,” you answered sharply, heading towards the kitchen, wanting to get the moment over and done with as quickly as possible.
“You’re upset with me?” When the question was left unanswered, he got to his feet and followed you to the kitchen. “Is this because I wouldn’t give you permission to go out?”
You didn’t even look at him as you placed the blood in the fridge and turned to head back to your room. But he wasn’t going to let you walk away. He stepped in front of you, blocking you, his cold hand beneath your chin urging you to look at him.
“I can’t fix whatever this is if you don’t explain it to me,” he told you, hand lingering beneath your chin, making sure you didn’t look away.
Standing in front of him like this, you finally got a true appreciation of his height and just how much he towered over you.
“You told me that I have power in this arrangement,” you spoke around the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “It doesn’t feel like I do.”
“You do, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
“Then why can’t I go out? Why is it such a big deal for me to go to a coffee shop or a museum for a couple of hours?” You asked, trying to ignore the cold, light touch of his fingers. “Why do I even need permission?”
“Because it isn’t safe,” Billy stated flatly. “For either of us.”
You weren’t sure what explanation you’d been expecting him to offer, but that certainly hadn’t been it.
“What do you mean?” Your confusion written across your face.
“I thought you understood what you were getting into when you took this job,” Billy sighed, his hand finally dropping back to his side
“I -” your gaze dropped again but only for a moment, “- I thought I did too.”
As much as it made you feel helpless, like some stupid, naive child, you were willing to confess in this instance that you didn’t understand. But you wanted to. You wanted to know why he seemed so intent on keeping you in the penthouse, and why he thought your going outside might be dangerous for either of you.
“Just because this is legal it doesn’t mean that people are accepting of it. There are those that would hurt you to get to me, or simply because they don’t agree with our arrangement.” Another sigh slipped from his lips and you watched as his shoulder lifted in an uncomfortable half-shrug. “I told you, you’re my responsibility, and if anything happened to you -”
“Why isn’t it safe for you if I go out?” You asked, wanting to understand which of you he was truly trying to protect.
“Because I’m the monster that’s taking advantage of the sweet, innocent young girl’s desperation, keeping you in my thrall so I can drain your blood,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if that was what was actually happening here. “If anyone found out, they’d burn the building to the ground.”
There was something about his voice, something that you knew should have scared you, something dark and sinister. You felt your cheeks start to heat, and that strange unwanted feeling growing in your stomach.
“I’m not -”
“What? Sweet? Innocent? Desperate?” The corners of his lips curled upwards as his dark eyes stared into yours. “Or do you really believe you’re not in my thrall?”
Your cheeks felt like they were burning and, despite taking a slow breath, your heart started to beat a little fast. His lips continued to curl upwards, and it took you a few seconds to realise that he was joking.
“That’s not funny,” you remarked quietly.
“It doesn’t have to be funny,” he shrugged, “it’s what people will believe regardless of what I do.”
“It’s not like I’d go out and tell people what I do for you.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. Who’d want to admit to any of this?” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice and you immediately felt bad.
As complicated as all of this was and as much as you didn’t like how much control he had over things, it was what you’d accepted and agreed to. He wasn’t holding you prisoner, you could quit whenever you wanted. By admitting that you’d want to keep this hidden, you were admitting to being ashamed of what you were doing, you were admitting that some part of you felt like it was wrong.
All he’d really done was give you a job. And all he was doing was trying to exist.
Billy allowed the silence to linger for a few moments before breaking it.
“Like I said, we can discuss the possibility of you going out, but I would prefer that you didn’t go alone.”
“But, how - I mean, you can’t -”
“Go out during the day? No, I can’t,” he decided to intervene and save you any further embarrassment. “But I have human friends or, if you’d prefer, there are plenty of places open after dark. We could even go to dinner...”
“Dinner?” It seemed like a strange offer for him to make. “I didn’t think vampires ate?”
Billy gave the slightest huff of laughter, no doubt at your lack of knowledge. He shook his head, obviously forcing back his smile.
“We can eat, it just doesn’t sustain us the way it does for humans.”
“Oh,” was the only word you allowed to fall from your lips. You had questions - so many questions - but you didn’t want to ask because it would just show your ignorance further. And it didn’t even cross your mind that your boss had basically just asked you to go to dinner with him.
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to arrange anything straight away, but if you really want to go out I’ll sort something out. I just need you to be patient, okay?” He told you and you nodded, not happy but certainly feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d eventually be able to go outside.
The conversation over, you wanted to return to your room and rest, hoping you’d feel better by tomorrow. But you didn’t move and neither did Billy. He stayed silent, watching you, considering you for a moment.
Then his hand was on your cheek and your breath caught.
“You look tired,” his voice soft now, sad even.
“I’m fine,” you lied.
“You’re not. You’re not sleeping enough and you haven’t been eating properly.”
“How -” you shook your head, deciding you didn’t want to know, but Billy decided to answer regardless.
“Your blood.” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “The agreement is that you stay in good health, that includes eating and sleeping. I know that all of this has been an adjustment for you, but I need to know that going forward you’ll do what’s required to take care of yourself.”
You almost wanted to laugh. For a split-second you’d almost thought that he might actually be concerned for you, that he might care about your wellbeing. But, no, he only cared because - what? Your blood didn’t taste as nice when you were tired and hungry?
“Yes, Mr Russo,” you answered, finally forcing yourself to take a step back, causing his hand to fall away from your cheek.
He was about to remind you to call him Billy but, obviously, he thought better of it. Nodding, he let you go.
“I won’t be back until late tomorrow night,” he told you and, again, all you could do was nod as you slipped back through the door to your rooms and headed for your bedroom.
As you sat down on your sofa and turned on the TV, you couldn’t help but think over everything that had been said. You could still hear the bitterness in his voice when you’d admitted that you didn’t want anyone to know about your arrangement. With time to think about it, you knew it wasn’t fair; people might not accept or understand it but, really, it was no one else’s business what either of you did. Besides, what was the alternative? Plenty of people sold blood, a lot of them made a living working for blood farms. How was this any different?
You even grudgingly understood why he wasn’t comfortable letting you go out without an escort. The longer you sat and thought about it the more conflicted you felt. Billy seemed to be trying and you were - you didn’t even know what you were doing anymore. You were being difficult. In part that was because of him, because of his demeanour, because he was just so damned attractive, but that didn’t excuse your behaviour.
Regardless of how you felt about him or about anything, you’d agreed to his conditions at the start of this and you didn’t get to throw a tantrum when you didn’t get your way. If Billy was willing to meet you halfway, then that would have to do.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, you sat back and watched TV, trying to relax before you finally went to bed.
The next day was a reset, you started your little schedule all over again, and you decided that you were going to make more of an effort. This was a job and you were getting paid over two and a half thousand dollars a day, you needed to remember that fact. You needed this to work out. It was only a year and, after that, you’d never have to follow rules again.
You felt better, you felt like the last few days had been nothing more than a bump in the road; you were still getting used to everything, still getting used to dealing with Billy, that was all.
It was nice having some space, knowing that you wouldn’t have to try and make conversation with him that night. It meant you could sit and read out in the penthouse and watch the sun going down. Though, it would have been a lie to say that you didn’t wonder where he was or what he was doing.
Before going to bed that night, you drew blood and left it in the fridge for him, for whenever he returned. Tomorrow, you’d bring up the subject of going outside again, even if it meant going out at night with him. With a tired sigh, you closed your eyes and quickly fell asleep
The sound of breaking glass and a pained howl pulled you from your sleep. It was still pitch black outside and, without thinking, you quickly left your room and headed out into the penthouse.
The lights were on and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust. The source of the noise was easy to spot; Billy in the kitchen, braced against the counter like it was the only thing holding him up, his head hanging forwards. The floor was a mess of blood and broken glass, and it was starting to become apparent what had happened here.
“Mr Russo?” You called softly, daring to slowly step towards him. He didn’t answer, so you tried again. “Billy?”
Tension seemed to fill his body, like a predator getting ready to pounce, but he didn’t move.
“Stay back.”
It wasn’t his voice, it wasn’t that rough, dark tone that you’d been playing over in your head, it was something else. A snarl, an angry and desperate sound that had managed to claw and tear its way out of him.
Your heart started to pound, every ounce of common sense you possessed telling you to turn back, to lock yourself in your room. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him not knowing if he was alright. It just wasn’t how you were raised.
“What happened?” A stupid question, but it helped break the silence. “Do you need help cleaning -”
He turned and your heart skipped a couple of beats, squeezing in your chest, causing your breath to catch. His dark eyes were almost completely black, like endless voids staring at you; his face was paler than ever and his hands were trembling uncontrollably at his sides.
You’d only seen something like this once before but you knew immediately what was happening.
He was hungry.
“I said stay back,” his teeth bared, his voice causing your stomach to knot.
By the time you reached the kitchen, he’d turned to face you, his body pressed back against the counter like he was trying to keep himself away from you. You mind raced, trying to figure out what to do, trying to figure out how to help him. You couldn’t leave him like this - if not for his sake, but for the sake of anyone who might come across him.
(You were going to have to feed him, but you couldn’t let him bite you. You wouldn’t let him bite you.)
With slow movements, you reached for the cutlery drawer and cautiously removed a knife. You saw his eyes widen, a flicker of shock and fear on his face, like he thought you were going to turn the knife on him. But, without pause or hesitation, you drew the blade across your palm and offered him your bloody hand.
“Here,” you offered timidly.
“What are you -” but his words fell dead the second he looked at your hand. For a second he shrank back, fighting his nature as the hungry look on his face turned more desperate. Without warning, he surged forwards, taking your hand in his and pulling it to his lips. Your heart continued to race as you felt his lips against the wound, pounding an uncomfortable rhythm that echoed in your ears.
You heard that sound from him again only, this time, it wasn’t suppressed; a guttural moan that vibrated through his chest as he pressed himself closer and closer to you. He didn’t stop pressing forward until you felt the counter at your back, his hard body against yours, leaving no space between you.
The floor disappeared beneath you. No, you quickly realised that you had been lifted up, placed on the counter. His hips slotted between your thighs, pressing closer still, and - oh.
You gasped at the hard outline of his cock between your legs and the way he started to grind himself against you. It was too much and not enough all at once. It was wrong and you knew it shouldn’t be happening but all you could think about was satisfying the dull throb that you’d felt between your legs for days. It wasn’t long before your cheeks started to heat, feeling the wetness of your arousal quickly soaking through your satin pyjama bottoms. Instead of coming to your senses and pulling away, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer.
A whimper escaped you as his free hand slipped beneath your pyjama top, his cold fingers trailing upwards until his hand was palming your breast, his icy touch causing your nipple to pebble.
The longer it went on, the more it felt like some wonderful dream, like it wasn’t really happening. You felt like you could float away at any more moment, the whole world turning on its axis, all because of him. You couldn’t think why, couldn’t summon enough rational thought to think those feelings through, not when you could feel just how thick and hard his cock was.
His lips pulled from your hand, leaving you feeling breathless. The blood smeared across his mouth should have disgusted you - everything about this should have disgusted you - but it didn’t. All you could think about was the euphoric sensation of his hips moving against yours, pushing you closer and closer to a breaking point, so you didn’t shy away when his blood-slick lips slanted over yours or when his tongue slipped into your mouth.
The taste of your blood on his lips barely even seemed to register. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. Everything about the moment was intoxicating, you felt drunk, lightheaded, like you couldn’t even control your own body anymore. All you could do was exist in the moment.
Your hands gripped his shoulders, blood soaking into his shirt as you held tight. Soon enough, your hips started moving against his, desperately seeking the sensation that now felt so close. All the while Billy kept kissing you, letting out unrestrained groans against your lips, obviously chasing his own satisfaction.
Desperate for breath, your lips finally pulled from his, your head dropped back taking gasped breaths between your moans. But it wasn’t enough to stop the room from spinning, to stop the feeling of losing yourself completely.
“My little hummingbird,” you heard him groan.
Fingers fisted his hair as his lips moved to your neck, rough kisses quickly giving way to sucking and licking at your skin, while the press of his cock became more frenzied. Then you felt the scrape of teeth against your throat and -
Your vision swam, overcome by the most violent orgasm you’d ever experienced; your body shivering and shaking with the intensity of it before you slumped forward into his arms, losing consciousness.
End Note : Idk why Billy always goes feral in the third chapter but here we are. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading!!
Tumblr is being stupid and only letting me mention 5 people at a time so this week I'm going to try putting all the mentions in the comments for the tag list. Sorry if you didn't get tagged last chapter
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.
Tag List:
Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#billy russo fanfic#the punisher#billy russo imagine#(ob)ts ff
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can i request thorins company with a reader with really long hair?and maybe they have a really long hair care routine or something
also i luv your work!!Hope ur doing well💓
Doin’ better these days 🤞🏻 we love hair imagines for the company hehe
Thorin’s Company When You Have Really Long Hair
Absolutely worships it: Thorin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bombur, Dori
Teases you a little: Dwalin, Nori, Fili
Just happy to have you: Balin, Bofur, Ori, Kili, Bilbo
Whether you wear it down, up, braids, locs, one big braid, your hair one of your favorite features of theirs and they all have a different way of showing it. Thorin, for example, loves to gently comb his fingers through your tresses if he can and is always holding it out of the way for you. Especially if you are not a dwarf, he deconstructs a lot of gatekeeping he would have done in the past and devotes himself to performing dwarven hair care practices and styles on you. Oin cares not for how long your routine is, he will learn it. Add to it or alter it a bit, even, with some of his own products, and you can’t really be too frustrated because dwarves do have the best hair products in Middle Earth. He has the gentlest hands as he caresses, treats, and styles your hair, never causing you a moment’s pain. Gloin glows with pride, practically insisting on handling your hair so long as you trust him. He’ll brag to anyone that you have the most gorgeous hair he’s ever seen even if you aren’t a dwarf. Let him do it up in braids, it’ll make him happier than anything! It can be hard to connect sometimes if you don’t speak Khuzdul, at least for Bifur, so he throws himself into acts of service. One of these is taking up the trouble of your long care routine. Silently he beckons you to sit between his legs, his hands working through your flowing hair. Gives you braids that match his and kisses them when he finishes. Bombur’s beard is very long, so he understands elaborate care routines. You two take up a trade of sorts where you re-braid his beard and he treats your hair, perhaps even trying a new style if you like! It may take a long time, but Bombur is in no hurry. Especially if your special routine gives him time to have his hands on you and in the hair he can't stop complimenting. Ever the aficionado of beauty, Dori adores the great flow of your locks and all their potential. If he has his way, he'll try many a different style and even decoration, weaving the prettiest beads and baubles and flowers in your hair. Always reminding you to take care of yours, he'll half-jokingly sigh and concede that alright, he'll simply do it himself. But of course that is simply his excuse to touch your beautiful hair, of course!
Dwalin loves your hair, adores the way you've let your tresses grow in a fashion any dwarf would be proud of, but he can't deny the irony. Your hair is long, flowing, tumbling far past your shoulders, and yet he has none. By a choice as proud as yours, but still. How could he help teasingly asking you, "Ya sure you don't wanna look like me? Lotta weight off those pretty shoulders." Similarly, Nori teases you, dramatically sweeping it off of your shoulder, that it gets in the way when he’s trying to enjoy you. He loves being able to move it off your face or off your shoulder for a kiss, though, he just can’t help joking around at all the time you take with it and simply how much there is. Of course Fili is going to tease you, it’s part of how he shows he cares. Jokes about if you’ll trip on your hair someday or playfully taking it in his hands to use as a blanket are interspersed with compliments about your beauty and Fili jumping constantly between you and danger. He’s always offering to braid it away from your eyes or tie it up to shorten it if it swings near your feet.
Balin cares about the heart more than the body, so while he cannot deny that your hair is beautiful he would not mind one bit if you lost it all. He brushes or detangles it so gently, but his eyes are on you the whole time and his favorite part of your elaborate care is simply the conversations you share, idle or deep. As someone who doesn’t exactly align with the beauty standards of his people, Bofur acknowledges he’d be quite the hypocrite if he imposed them on you, especially if you aren’t even a dwarf! What he wants most is someone who can make him smile, and as he’s told you you could do that even if you were bald as Dwalin! He lives to reassure you and also enjoys hearing that you’d love him no matter what, too, as you do each other’s braids. Ori is not focused on appearances, either, practically not noticing your hair until he makes to sketch it out and realizes how impressively long it really is. Then he’ll talk to you about it, curiosity overtaking him as he asks questions like how long it took to get it like that, if it gets in the way, what you do for it… Flushes the first time you invite him to touch it, but from then on he’s addicted! Plays with it idly a lot of the time. Kili finds a little bit of beauty in everyone, so long hair or short you can catch his heart. He can’t help swooning over the way your long tresses, braids, however you keep it glisten in the sun. Teasingly reaches out to touch it, but never actually does until he has permission. When he does, though, expect a few playful tugs! Bilbo has even less expectations about your hair as hobbits don’t typically keep theirs so long. It comes as a bit if a surprise to him to see yours, but it reminds him of the beauty of the elves. It’s unfamiliar and he loves the unfamiliar if he lets himself admit it. He does, and from there he insists upon relieving you of that long routine of yours “now that I’m here”.
Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🥰
#the hobbit#the hobbit imagines#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit headcanons#thorin’s company#balin#dwalin#thorin#oin#gloin#bifur#bofur#bombur#dori#nori#ori#fili#kili#bilbo#ask#anon#requested
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SHE! IS! HERE!
The menace, the power, the unease, and yes, the beauty. These are all traits present in Chimera-Falin, who makes her grand debut this episode. It is probably the most hype I've been for a character introduction in a TRIGGER show in a decade.
No anime could reasonably match the almost radioactive presence that Chimera-Falin has in ink, on paper. Instead, this episode's team bring an impressive arsenal of tricks of motion to convey her narrative (and literal!) weight. Chimera-Falin as a character literally bends the story around her, and the show displays this by showing in gruesome detail just how thoroughly she absolutely annhiliates all opposition. To dredge up the tired Dungeons & Dragons metaphor oft used for Dungeon Meshi once again, she's one of those really high CR, thoroughly unfair monsters. She's huge, incredibly robust and durable, can claw her foes---characters we've gotten to know over the past several episodes, mind you!---to shreds, and on top of all that, enough of her human mind remains that she can still cast spells. Can you imagine how absolutely defeated that mage must feel when Falin simply dispels his summoned undine? I'd be somewhere between furious and suicidal. In general, Falin is drawn an animated in a way that emphasizes her strength and presence. I'd also say she's drawn with just about the right level of
After Falin clambers offstage, we of course get the long heart-to-fist-to-face-to-heart between Shuro and Laios. I actually think this works slightly better here than in the manga, as it's a case where stripping some of the ambiguity inherent to that format actually sharpens the show's emotional beats.
We end with some comedy to take the edge off as our heroes venture ever-deeper into the dungeon, with their objective changed to explicitly defeating the Lunatic Magician.
Some stray observations:
Not to be a huge pervert, but I am surprised they were allowed to draw the harpies' nipples.
There is blood EVERYWHERE. Several others have pointed this out, but the difference between how striking the visual contrast is in the anime vs. the manga is pretty interesting. And more generally this was an extremely gory episode.
Marcille looks absolutely miserable throughout this entire episode. Not without reason! But still, my poor girl.
To completely shoot myself in the foot vis-a-vis what I said in the first bullet point, I think Chimera Falin might be even more beautiful in motion than she was in the manga. Where's the HRT I can take to get that body, huh, medical science?
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pretty bird
king!john x gn!reader. mdni.
tags: infantilization a little, one sided love, misinterpretation, savior complex, smut, implied painful sex, anal, worshipping, mans is genuinely insane sorry
notes: john saves you, a bird of clipped wings, and gives you a world for you to rule. a cage put on display, for the kingdom to worship, with you sat in the middle. is that not what you’ve dreamt of?
wc: 835
Imagine John as a king, and you a ruler placed by his side. Born from gravel, taken in to have you drowned in gold.
His pretty bird, his treasure, his beautiful bird. His beauty that he loved with all his heart. More than you could ever fathom.
He loves you, he saves your soul from the creatures dipped in sin, and you never had the capacity to love him the same way. Your mind could never wrap around it, he realized. You could never try and pretend to reciprocate his type of love, where he believes in "till death do us part", while you'll settle for a simple (unsatisfying) "I love you".
You may try, however. Pathetically, you reach a little further, set your hands upon his chest, kiss him with tenderness that makes him chuckle. You fold your wings in, but not enough, just to make up for the love you can’t form.
Oh, pretty bird. There’s no need for you to try. You have no need to do anything, as he'll hold enough love for the both of you.
In the deepest part of the castle, he twists every limb, makes you a doll that fits his desires. He beams at how lovely you look, and the smile he receives in return is something that he'd hang up on the wall. A masterpiece, lopsided. Much more realistic than your plastic smile. It's so utterly human, and you gave him the privilege to view it himself. Overjoyed, it almost looks like anguish. You have no need to know anguish any longer.
For he keeps you safe, encased in the walls of his palace. Safe from what lurked on the outside. Diseased, riddled with infection, that he could not bear to let drip against your warm skin molded by gods above. Those creatures were of no use to have around, and who has he to leave you tortured by the venom they spit?
“My treasure, my sweet,” he coos, atop the throne he worships you in. His hands cup your face in silent revelation, his fingers gliding against the lobes of your ears. The way you try to look at him, catch his eye with that look that screams of beauty, he knows that you feel so much safer with him. Your home, stocked with the world at your disposal.
Oh, he was ecstatic over your happiness. The genuine grin you had shown, whilst covered in lavish robes that mimic the gold that others would only imagine.
It weighs heavy against your body, though he doesn’t mind. All the more reason for you to stay. Weighed down by gifts that he spoils you with, while you whine as if you were drowning. The golden thorns you adorn shimmers against the sunlight streaming through the windows, and he beams as tears, crusted in silver, pool along your eyelids. So happy, you are brought to tears. So, so pretty.
“John,” you sob, while he licks at your skin that glows. He picks at his doll, plucks every stone placed so delicately on your face, and you shiver what he thinks is pleasure. He’ll puncture the skin of your neck, bite and claim, almost as if he were some animal, poised and powerful. He spans a calloused hand down your back, as he yearns to meld with your body, treat you as if you were one.
In the midst of the night, his goals do not stray. The love he makes holds you still, arms tied by his hands, while he treats you as gently as he can. Folds you over as he sinks in, jointed limbs shivering in what he would call pleasure. Beauty, in its rawest form, where he is the only viewer of desire. He kisses you slowly, lips pressed delicately against yours. He wants to swallow you whole.
Love, he gives you. You may whine, and whimper, but it is still love that he gives you. Wraps you both in the prettiest bow that you could not see, while you tug at the hands pulling on your hips.
It's not fucking, the way he his cock forms an outline against your walls, fit just for him, but love in its truest form. He would insist, while he perches you atop him, drown in your whimpers and whines that create such a harmony with the way skin slaps against skin.
And when he finally cleanses you of the leftover sin you carry, you look absolutely gorgeous then, eyes blurry with tears and stomach painted in white. He moves to bring you the comfort you are due, though there's nothing he can do but smile. You let out a cry, another soft complaint of pain, and he smiles in return.
Sweet bird. Don't cry. He vows to fill your enclosure with satin clothes and burnished pearls. Anything for you, so long as you keep your wings folding underneath you. He knows, you wish to fly, yet the sacrifice of love is much more worth it, no?
praying i did king price justice 😭
#john price#price x reader#cod price#captain price#gn reader#tell me king!price wouldn’t have a savior complex#. . . fics
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req for how Grayson would celebrate his so’s birthday please! 🩵
grayson celebrating his so's birthday
of course! the s/o can be whatever girl you want it to be (lyra, you, oc, etc). hope you like them <3.
he would wake her up by kissing her all over her face (he does this everyday, but he puts extra effort on her birthday) (nose kisses, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, etc)
he would literally spend thousands of dollars on her gifts and will have put a lot of time making/buying them.
he will compose her a piano piece ever single year. he performs it at night in the piano room when the two of them are alone.
he'll buy the outfit he wants her to wear prior to the birthday (he doesn't force her to wear it though, it's just something he likes doing/likes helping her out)
he'll wake her up with breakfast in bed and a bouquet of flowers (not roses though, he buys the rarest, most expensive flowers he can find)
he definitely sort of makes her birthday a full week/weekend thing. after they celebrate her birthday with the others, they go on a trip to like italy, spain, portugal, etc where they celebrate even more (if you know what i mean...)
he'd paint something for her. idk what it would be but i hc that gray is like the next picasso or some shit
every year, on her birthday, he adds a picture of her to this photo book he has of the two of them.
one year he got her this beautiful white gold necklace/bracelet/earring set (you can imagine it however you want)
he hires someone to do her hair and makeup for her.
other than physical gifts, he also gives her money for a spa day, concert, etc (he sometimes comes along if she wants him to)
the entire house will be decorated from floor to ceiling (the decorations are her favorite color). diamonds and sparkles are fucking everywhere. it makes her feel like a princess.
he also gets her 2491093480 books because she loves reading (or he brings her to the book store and tells her to take all of the books she wants)
they always end up watching a movie at the end of the day bc she loves watching movies/shows.
grayson helps libby bake her cake (libby could do it by herself but grayson wants to help bc its for his gf)
they eat outside during sunset and stay out long after the stars come out. she loves stargazing (they eat with the other brothers, avery, etc but they also have a date night the day after where they do pretty much the same thing)
he makes playlists for her that he thinks sort of sums up her year (idk if this makes sense) or just of songs that remind him of her
he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her. he'd always be holding her waist or hugging her or smth.
the entire family would end up in front of a bonfire dancing and talking. they'd have a fucking blast. grayson would be holding her in his arms the entire time with his head stuffed in her neck.
he'd do anything she wanted him to do like twerk or pole dance (he only lets her make a fool of himself when its her birthday). she takes advantage of this and makes him do all the crazy shit imaginable.
this one's shorter than my other posts but oh well. i have quite a few requests so some of my next ones may be shorter. anyways, hope you liked them <3.
#the inheritance games#jameson hawthorne#grayson hawthorne#avery grambs#nash hawthorne#xander hawthorne#libby grambs#the grandest game#lyra kane
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A small room filled with investors, each one wearing a suit more expensive than the one next to him.
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Murmuring can be heard in between the investors, intrigued by the presentation.
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The room erupts with applause.
The Spartan Program is proud of its cooperation with corporate clients. The Spartan Program does not confirm any false accusation that its Guards are programmed to serve corporate interests.
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