#molten glass passes

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part One

A DBF!Joel Fic

You meet a stranger in a bar, one who is fun and sexy and makes you wonder if the single life is all it's cracked up to be. But there's one big problem: you probably shouldn't be fucking your dad's best friend.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (m and f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 6.8k

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot and then it started getting out of hand. It's going to just be two parts for the moment, this is going to be a very little baby fic, OK? Small. Lil baby story. Also. there's a hefty age gap and it comes up because logistics but no power imbalance. Thanks for always putting up with my shit, y'all are the best ❤️

Bar None, Present day

One of your friends had just put Single Ladies on the jukebox when you saw him across the bar. Bar None, the place you’d picked for the night, had one of those stupid app-powered ones and the three girls you had kept in touch with from high school had been abusing it all night long. But the man across the bar was so distracting that you hardly noticed. His eyes were locked on you, so tight and hot that it would send a chill up your spine if it was from the wrong set of eyes. But they were his eyes. Dark and molten and set into a sculpted face with patchy scruff and shaggy curl streaked with gray. 

No, you thought, he couldn’t spark anything but desire. 

“We should do the dance!” Your friend Emily slurred, tugging your arm. “C’mon! Now that you’re a single lady again, you have to own it.” 

She flashed her empty ring finger as Beyonce sang, a cocky - if half drunk - look on her face as she did. 

You smiled at her. 

“He did put a ring on it,” you twisted the stem of your martini glass. “That’s why there was a problem when he put his dick in someone else. I think I’ll pass on the Beyonce. But thank you.” 

“Come on drunky,” your friend Dana looped her arm around Emily’s waist. “Let’s go dance.” 

“Woooo!” Emily threw her arms in the air and Dana gave you an exasperated but happy smile over her shoulder as she guided her to the dance floor. 

“Jesus, is it that late?” Parker looked at her Apple watch. You half smiled and took a small sip of your drink as she rifled through her clutch for her phone and let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God, Kevin hasn’t been texting with a ton of stupid questions. Why did I think letting a baby get totally attached to me was a good idea? The fact that she only said mama for two weeks was great at first but now that she refuses to do bedtime without me, I’m having regrets…” 

“Do you need to go?” You asked, brows raised. 

She winced.

“Would you hate me if I left you with the party animals?” 

You laughed. 

“No,” you said. “Go home, see your husband and kid. I really do appreciate the warm welcome back, you have no idea.” 

“See?” She reached across the small table and gave your arm a squeeze. “I told you, just like old times.” 

“Did you go back home at 10:30 to make sure a baby was properly put to bed when we were 18?” You teased. “I forgot that part…” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“Almost old times,” she said. “Besides, you love Bella.” 

“I do love Bella,” you said. “And I love you. Go home, I’m good.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Positive. Text me when you get there?” 

“Of course,” she slipped off the bar stool and came around to give you a hug and kiss your cheek. “I really am glad you’re back. Even if it’s because Reid was a dumbass.” 

You just smiled a little and watched her leave, Parker pausing to wave to Dana on her way out the door. 

“This seat open?” 

The man from across the bar stood beside you, nodding to the seat Parker had just vacated. You smiled a little and nodded once. 

“You have very convenient timing.” 

“Well,” he shrugged. “Leaving a pretty girl all alone at the bar seems like a crime. Trying my damndest to stay on the right side of the law.” 

“And how’s that going for you these days?” 

He smirked a little. His cheek dimpled. 

“Well enough.” 

You looked at him, tracing the creases in his face with your eyes, the streaks of gray catching the low light of the bar. He was probably the oldest man there but damn, did he wear it well. 

“You in town for a visit?” He asked, turning his beer bottle in his fingers and nodding to your friends on the dance floor. “Seeing friends?” 

You cocked a little smile at him. 

“No, actually. Just moved back.” 

He raised his eyebrows, a look you couldn’t quite place passing over his warm features. His eyes drifted to your ring finger before he seemed to catch himself and look back at your face. You saved him the trouble, lifting your bare left hand and turning it so he could see. The indentation from your three carat engagement ring was still on your finger but your hand was empty. 

“I think we should talk, Joel.” 

Bar None, 10 years earlier 

The man across the bar had no damn business being that good looking. 

It was almost pissing you off how good looking he was. Tall, broad, with golden skin and thick, dark hair, he had the kind of face you wanted to explore intimately, in the way you could only do when someone was inside of you. The way men couldn’t control their expressions then was almost addicting. The way their eyes would roll back and their mouths would fall open, the way they stopped fucking around with pretense and just let themselves feel something - even if it was just your cunt - was beautiful and fascinating and almost elemental. It was like you could look into the very core of them for a moment, the way they always seemed to be able to look into you with just a glance. You wanted that with this man, whoever he was, this man who you caught glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Aww,” Parker pouted happily at her phone. “Kevin misses me!” 

“Misses you?” Emily snatched the phone from her grasp, gaping at the screen. “You’ve been gone like two hours!” 

“Will you just…” Parker snatched the phone back and looked at the text again. “And I think it’s sweet.” 

“You’re ditching us, aren’t you?” Emily sighed. 

“I think so,” Parker winced. “Is that OK?” 

You just smiled a little. 

“Go see the guy who’s got you all crazy,” you said. “But I’ll see you again before I leave town, yeah?” 

“Course!” She came and gave you a hug. “Good luck getting rid of me. Have fun at that thing tomorrow!” 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I’ll try.” 

Emily rolled her eyes and judged Parker for a bit but it was less than an hour before she was leaving, too, with a man who’d asked her to dance and bought her a beer. 

“You sure you’re alright?” She asked as she went to leave. 

“Babes, I know how to be at a bar on my own. And my hotel is two doors down. I think I can figure it out.” 

She kissed your cheek. 

“Love you,” she said. “Try to have some fun!” 

You watched her go, thinking about just how long you wanted to be sitting by yourself at a bar versus in a Holiday Inn Express standard room when a voice appeared beside you. 

“This seat open?” 

The man from across the bar nodded to the seat Emily had just abandoned. You smiled a little and nodded once. 

“You have very convenient timing.” 

“Well,” he shrugged. “Leaving a pretty girl all alone at the bar seems like a crime. Trying my damndest to stay on the right side of the law.” 

“And how’s that going for you?” 

He smirked a little. His cheek dimpled. 

“Well enough.”

You smiled and introduced yourself before holding out your hand. He took it. 

“Joel,” he said. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” 

“Because I’ve never been here before,” you smiled. “I’m in from out of town, my hotel is a few doors down. This was convenient and hey, the Yelp reviews weren’t the worst.” 

“What brings you to the great city of Austin, Texas?” He asked, settling in on the seat beside you. He was older than you but you kind of liked men that way now that you were in your mid 20s and exhausted by every man you’d dated in college. You liked them a little older, more established, men who knew how to cook their own damn food and give you your own damn orgasm. “Business or pleasure?” 

“Neither,” you smiled a little, taking a sip of your drink. “Family event.” 

“That’s not pleasure?” 

You laughed once.

“Not the way my family does it.” 

“That why you’re in a hotel and not stayin’ with them?” He asked, brows raised. 

“Bingo,” you replied. “I get in, I get drunk, I get out.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Good system.” 

“Worked well enough for me over the years.” 

The two of you ended up talking about music and books and UT football until last call - far later than you’d intended to stay out. 

“Mind if I walk you back to your hotel?” Joel asked. “Not tryin’ to be a creep but… I’d sleep a lot better tonight knowin’ you got back safe. Promise it’s not a ploy.” 

“Damn, it’s not?” You asked, tucking your purse on your arm and heading for the door. “Because I was going to ask you to come up to my room if it was.” 

“Well shit,” he said, catching up with you. “Maybe it is a ploy then.” 

You found yourselves drawing out the walk back all the same, pace more of an amble than a brisk walk, but the hotel was so close that it really only added a few minutes to your walk all the same. 

“Well,” you smiled at the door to the lobby. “This is me.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded once, looking inside for a moment before looking back at you. “Look… you don’t owe me anything, alright? I’m not the kind of guy who wants to force something. I can just head on back to my truck, no hard feelings…” 

“Well maybe none for you,” you teased a little. “But I might have some. Unless you really don’t want to fuck me.” 

“Oh, I want to,” he said. “Trust me on that…” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Been at the top of my list since you first walked in that place, baby, lemme tell you.” 

“Well then,” you jerked your head toward the door. “Why don’t we cross it off the list?” 

You took his hand in the elevator, his palm so broad, his fingers thick and long and callused in yours. You pressed your back against the wall and pulled him onto you so his hips were on yours and his nose brushed your own. His eyes ranged over your face, hungry and soft and open. 

“You sure about this?” He asked, looking down at the rest of your body for a moment before going back to your face. “Sure you don’t have something better to do than some old man?” 

“I’m sure,” you smiled at him, draping your arms over his shoulders. “Besides, I like old men. How old are you, anyway?” 

“Forty-five,” he said. “How old are you?” 

You snorted. 

“I’m not sure I should say,” you said, holding him a little closer all the same. “Since you’re all hung up on age…” 

“Not hung up on it,” he rolled his eyes. “Just… don’t need to be some youthful mistake is all. Wait, Jesus, please tell me you’re at least out of college, tell me you’re not a teenager…” 

You laughed. 

“No,” you shook your head. “Not a teenager. And I’ve been out of college a few years, I’m 25.” 

“God,” he closed his eyes and shook his head once, like he was trying to shake the idea of you loose. “Still, that’s… you’re…” 

You pressed your lips ever so slightly against his, more a quick brush than anything else, giving him every opportunity to pull back. 

He didn’t take it. 

Instead, he pressed his lips to yours, his hands going to your waist and tugging you tightly to his body while he pushed you back against the wall. Your arms got tighter to him and you opened your mouth, his tongue licking into you almost immediately. Joel didn’t need an engraved invitation, all he needed was a sign that you wanted him and fuck, you wanted him. More and more, each passing second, you wanted him. There was heat in you that was starting to flare so molten and hot that you pulled at his clothes, forgetting that you weren’t alone, not really. 

The elevator dinged and he all but sprang back from you, both of you panting for breath. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, looking you up and down, pupils blown. 

“C’mon,” you took his hand. “I’m down the hall.” 

You pulled him along behind you and fumbled to get your room key out of your bag. Joel’s wide, thick hands slipped around your waist as you did, tugging your ass back against his growing bulge and fuck, but he was huge. Thick and long and you knew his zipper had to be fucking killing him, cock that big and hard restrained by mere fabric and a slip of metal. His lips found the hinge of your jaw, your neck, down to your shoulder and you groaned a little as you clumsily forced the keycard in the door, the little beep the mechanism gave one of the best damn sounds you’d heard all night. 

The two of you practically fell into your hotel room. You dropped your purse on the first table inside the door and started stepping out of your heels as Joel turned you around to face him, manipulating your body to put you right where he wanted you and the fire in you sparked higher, brighter as he manhandled you. Every touch he gave was loaded with need, the air thick and heavy with it as he pawed at your clothes and skin, licking into your mouth at every opportunity, taking your chin firmly in his heady grip to tug you open further for him, all but forcing you to give him everything. 

You were as rough with his clothes as he was with your body, pulling so hard and fast at the buttons of his shirt that two popped free, pinging off the glass of the mass produced art that hung on the wall. 

“Shit,” you panted, looking around the dark of your room for the buttons. 

“Don’t give a fuck,” Joel replied, breathless, clutching you close and tight before you could pull away. “Didn’t really like this shirt, anyway.” 

You shoved it down and off as he tugged your dress down your body, leaving it in a pile on the floor before turning you so the backs of your legs were against the bed. He deftly unhooked your bra with one hand then, ripping the straps down your arms but almost reverently lowering the cups, panting for breath as he exposed your breasts to his gaze. Joel tossed your bra to the side before taking the soft weight of your tits in his hands, cupping them, brushing his thumbs over your hardening nipples as he looked down at you with a look of near awe on his face. You half expected him to shove you back down onto the bed after his race to get you undressed but instead, his arm went around your waist, his hand splaying wide over the smooth skin of your back and he pulled you tight against him, making you gasp. 

He moaned, deep and low, and dropped his head to your bared shoulder before trailing his nose over you to your neck, the wet heat of his breath on your skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn soft,” he groaned, almost pained, and pressed his lips to your throat, making your breath catch. You clung to the broad expanse of his back, fingertips pressing into him, trying to get at every inch of his skin that you could find. 

His mouth found yours and he gently, delicately, lowered you back onto the bed. He cradled your body against his own, keeping the firm line of him taut to you as he kissed you. Joel rested you on the mattress and you let your legs fall open so he could settle between your thighs, the heady weight of him pressing against your clit and making you moan. 

“You got a problem if I explore this pretty body of yours?” He asked, his lips still brushing yours when he spoke. “Because fuck, baby, seems like a sin to not touch every goddamn inch of you.” 

He rocked his thick, hard, still clothed cock against your core, as if to make his point, and took your responding moan as the yes it was. He trailed his lips slowly over your body, down your throat, your breast bone, your stomach, your navel. His nose brushed against you, his breath covering you in warm and needy pants. When he reached your underwear - the last thing still on your body - his fingers looped through the band before he paused, looking up at you over your stomach and between your breasts. 

“You still with me, pretty girl?” He asked, mouth so close to your skin that the wetness of his lower lip had caught on your stomach. “Still good with this?”

“Yes, Joel, please,” you were practically squirming. He was so close to precisely where you needed him it seemed like you might melt with the want of him. “Fuck, please…” 

“Fuck, you’re even prettier when you beg,” he said and started to pull your panties down over your hips. You lifted yourself up off the bed to help and it wasn’t long before you were naked below him. He knelt in front of you and took your knees in his hands, parting your thighs for him and groaning when he did. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed, so quiet you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it or if he’d meant to say it out loud at all. “Just… fuck.” 

He opened your legs enough to lay between them, settling with your thighs over his shoulders. His thumb traced a slow, tender path over your slit, brushing your clit and making you gasp when he did. 

“Swear you’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said before he pressed his lips to your leaking hole. He moaned as he did and you couldn’t help but thrust against him once. He pulled back from you just a little, his nose barely touching your clit as he did. “Needy little pussy, too, huh?” 

Your fingers knotted in the bedspread and Joel’s mouth found your clit, softly sucking the sensitive nub between his teeth to tease with his tongue. You fought the urge to rock your hips against his face, trying to remember that this man was practically a stranger, not a lover whose tastes you knew intimately. But that was hard to remember as he worked his way lower, his tongue slipping inside of you with a deep groan. 

Joel ate you like you were a delicacy he longed to savor. He started slow, tasting and teasing you open, before delving deep like he couldn’t resist it, his thick tongue exploring and finding the soft and tender places inside you. His thumbs spread you open wide to him, his nose against your clit and you couldn’t stop yourself, you rolled your hips against him. He moaned into you and you forced your hips down on the bed, trying to clear your head enough to be still. 

“Sorry,” you panted. “I didn’t mean to do that, you’re just… really fucking good at that.” 

He stopped and pulled back from you enough to look up your body again, a frown on his face, your slick glistening on his beard in the light from the parking lot outside. 

“You think I don’t want you fucking my face?” He asked. “Fuck, baby, I want nothing more than for you to take exactly what you need. Want you to make yourself come on my face, you understand?” 

You swallowed and nodded. 

“What are you going to do?” He asked, voice almost stern. 

“Make myself come on your face?” You more asked than answered. 

“Better sound more sure than that,” he said, fingers moving to your clit. You gasped and moaned at the contact. “Come on baby, what are you going to do? Say it. Own it.” 

“Come on your face,” you panted. “Fuck, Joel… I’m going to come on your face, I’m going to make myself come on your face, please…” 

“Good,” he said, going back to eating your pussy. 

It was like he’d been holding back before but had nothing stopping him now. His tongue pressed deep, his nose nestled in your slit to nudge your clit, his arms looped over the thickness of your thighs to keep you open for him while also pressing the softness of you to the sides of his head. Your orgasm built quickly, the heat in you sinking to your core, everything inside you there going taut and tense. You were just on the edge of it, whimpering below his tongue and his touch when one hand left the warmth of your thigh and moved to your slit, his finger sliding inside you alongside his tongue. He pressed into the soft, tender place inside you that seemed to elude other men, finding it with an almost practiced ease and moaning when he did, sending the sparks of your climax shooting through you. 

He groaned, needy, as he ate you through it, not letting up, not even for a second until your orgasm had subsided and your head was swimming. 

“Fuck you feel amazing,” he pulled himself from you, sucking the finger that was inside you clean before wiping your slick from his beard while his other hand traced over the smooth softness of your inner thigh. “Should’ve asked this sooner but… please tell me you’ve got a damn condom. I wasn’t exactly lookin’ for this tonight, not until I saw you, so I’m not exactly prepared.” 

“I do,” you propped yourself up on your elbows, trying to remember where the hell you left your suitcase in the dark. You spotted it on the dresser, thankfully still mostly organized since you’d arrived that afternoon. You nodded to it. “Suitcase, top zipper pouch inside the lid.”

He got one, the crinkle of foil strangely loud in the silence of the room. 

“Here,” you sat up and reached for him as he came to stand between your legs at the edge of the bed. “Let me do it…” 

He gave you the packet and you opened it before palming the condom, holding it tight in one hand while slipping the other into the open zipper of his jeans and into his underwear to find his thick, heavy cock. 

You moaned as you wrapped your fingers around his length, hard as steel wrapped in silken skin, and you stroked him, just half way up his cock at first before going from root to tip. He was dripping there, his arousal making his head slick and wet. You brushed your thumb over his leaking tip, the smooth skin making your mouth water. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you leaned forward to lick him before taking just the very end of his cock between your lips. You suckled at him gently, lapping up his precome, Joel’s breaths getting heavier and faster as you did, before you took him into your mouth. He moaned as you sucked him, his hand going to the back of your head and holding you against him, your nose brushing against the base of his stomach. You took his head into your throat and moaned around him as you sucked him, making him hiss in pleasure, his grip on your skull tightening. 

“Fuck, woman,” he managed as you kept sucking him. “Gonna make me come if you keep doin’ that…” 

You pulled back from him slowly, his hold on you easing as you did, until he slipped from your mouth, still slick with your spit. 

“Should probably stop then,” you said, a little breathless. You took the condom - warm now from the heat of your hand - and put it over his head before rolling it over his thick shaft. You stroked him once, twice and leaned forward again, sucking his tip for a moment when it was in place and his head tipped back, staring at the ceiling as he groaned. 

“Jesus,” he panted. “Fuck, you gonna let me inside that soft little pussy of yours or make me come in your mouth?” 

You laughed once, needy and low, before pulling yourself backwards on the bed, Joel’s eyes hungry on your body as you went. He shucked his jeans and underwear off before crawling, finally naked, between your thighs. His head brushed against your sex and he took the base of his cock in his hand, trailing his tip up and down your dripping slit before spreading you open for him, your pussy swollen and tender as he did. He put his tip against your dripping entrance, pressed just the very end of him inside, barely opening you to him. His hands moved to your thighs, brushing over them to your knees before trailing back toward your center, his fingers splayed wide over you soft flesh. 

“You ready, baby?” He asked, needy. 

“Yes,” you breathed. You’d passed ready a long time ago. You were desperate now, aching and all but begging for him to take up every empty space inside your body. 

“Good,” he pressed forward until his head was fully inside your tight channel and you both moaned with it, one of your hands finding the smooth skin of your breast and squeezing it. He groaned at the sight as he started fucking just the tip of him into you, rocking in and out of you in short, sharp bursts. “Fuck, there you go baby. Just like that.” 

He started feeding you more of his cock then, driving further into you with each stroke until he fucked all the way into you, his hips flush to yours, his thick length stretching you open, the burn of him meshing with the heady pleasure of being so utterly full. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed, his cock buried inside you totally. “This pussy… fuck me.” 

One of his hands went from your thigh to over your hip coming to rest and the soft swell of the base of your stomach. He spread wide over your skin, his palm swallowing the space over where he was inside of you and pressing down, making you moan as the tight fullness inside you got more intense. His thumb stretched down toward your clit and he started working you there as he just held himself within you, making your cunt throb once around him. He groaned at the feeling. 

“That’s right,” he said. “So full of this cock ain’t you baby? Taking me so damn well…” 

He kept working your clit for a minute, not moving inside you, just pressing into your skin until you were practically writhing below his touch. He was so big, you were so full, the pleasure in your body so tight. It made your head spin. 

“Joel,” your fingers scratched at the blankets. “I need you to move, please, please, please…” 

“Please what, pretty girl?” His voice was dark, low. 

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “Please, please fuck me, please…” 

He drew back then, achingly slow at first, watching where his cock was pressing into you with a hungry look on his face, before thrusting back in, deep and firm. 

This, you thought, was why you liked fucking older men. Joel knew what he was doing. He worked your body with expert skill, grinding his cock deep inside so his head pressed against the most sensitive parts of you, the thick drag of him making your back arch and toes curl. He kept rubbing your clit with his thumb, the pressure and pace keeping your pleasure building and building but never quite cascading over the edge. 

He kept fucking into you that way until you were desperate, your whole being drawn tight and achy around his cock. He’d stopped watching where your bodies were joined and had moved to your face, his gaze drinking in your desperate little moans and the way your eyes would scrunch closed as you got so close to coming but didn’t quite make it, whimpering as your climax fell just out of reach yet again. 

“Got you so tight and needy, hm?” He said, breathless. You just nodded, trying to rock your hips up against him but held in place by his hand on your stomach. “Why don’t you tell me what you need? Tell me exactly what it is you need.” 

“To come,” you whimpered. “Fuck, I need to come, you need to let me come, please let me come…” 

“Think I’ve been keepin’ you on the edge too long?” He asked. “Think I should let this little pussy come? Let her just milk me dry?” 

“Fuck, please,” you begged, not caring if you sounded pathetic. It’s not like you’d see this man again after tonight, anyway. 

He took his thumb off your clit but before you had a chance to whimper in protest, he adjusted your legs to drive somehow deeper and leaned over you, pressing his bare skin to yours before kissing your neck, sucking and licking at the tender skin there as he fucked into you, making you whimper, your nails scrabbling over his back. His lips moved from your neck to your ear, his large hand coming to cup the crown of your head, his pace never relenting. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, low and needy. “You can come, want you to come, want to feel you come. Just let go for me, just give in to me.” 

His hips rocked against your clit, his cock buried so deep and you saw stars for a moment before you cried out, your orgasm hitting you hard after being on the edge of it for so long. It broke your whole body down, muscle clenching desperately, blood rushing, fingers clinging. You felt it everywhere, starting at your core and radiating out in hot, aching waves. 

“Goddamn, that’s it,” he fucked you through it as your core fluttered over him. “Just keep comin’ for me, just like that, feeling so damn good baby just…” 

He pressed deep as your orgasm started to fade and moaned, the sound going straight to your raw, fucked out cunt. The pulsing of his cock, in you to the root, rolled you into another orgasm, this one less intense but still making your pussy grip him close and tight as he spilled into the condom. 

He collapsed on you for a moment as both of your climaxes eased, his chest heaving. Before his weight became too much, he adjusted, rising up enough to kiss you as he slid his softening cock from your body and falling flat on his back on the bed beside you. 

“Damn,” you panted after a moment, staring up at the ceiling. 

He laughed lightly beside you. 

“Know the feelin’.” 

You lay there next to each other, listening to each other as your breaths came back into a normal, steady cadence. Goosebumps started to pebble over your skin, the air cold as you were naked without his body on yours, the air conditioner below the window humming along. 

You turned your head to look at him and he did the same. 

“Should probably go…” his voice trailed off but he sounded reluctant. Or maybe you just hoped he did.  

“You don’t have to,” you said, probably a little too quickly for a man you’d just met. Even in the dim light of the moon and the parking lot lights out your window, you could tell he raised his eyebrows. “I’m just… you can stay, if you want. It’s a big bed. Think we can manage it.” 

“Wouldn’t want to impose…” 

“You’re not,” you said. “You can leave, too, if you’d rather but… don’t feel like you have to rush out.” 

He smiled a little. 

“Then I’ll stay. I’d like to stay.” 

You smiled back, that blissed out and relaxed feeling you had after you came settling over you.

“Good.” 

The two of you settled far across the bed from each other at first but drifted quickly, until your head was on his chest and you were curved around his side as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers trailing up and down your arm until you fell asleep. 

He was somehow even more beautiful in the light of day. 

You realized it as the two of you went about the strange intimacy of getting ready for the day side by side with someone you didn’t know. He blinked sleep from his eyes when first woke up and stretched his back before getting out of bed, his curls haphazard and messy and his body soft and warm. He got dressed and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. You offered him your travel toothbrush as you got dressed and he watched you pull on your jeans as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe. 

“Been a while since I’ve done this,” he said, a little hesitant. 

“Just how long?” You asked, teasing as you pulled on your shirt. 

“Longer than I want to admit,” he said, small smile making his cheek dimple. “Long enough that I don’t remember exactly how this is supposed to work but… I’d like to take you to breakfast. If you want.” 

You smiled. 

“Sure,” you said. “I’d like that.” 

Joel walked back to the bar and picked up his truck before taking you to a diner not too far from your hotel. You laughed with him about menu typos and the questionable song choices coming from the speakers over greasy eggs and toast soaked in butter. 

“Know we just met,” he said as you were on your fourth cup of coffee and you were both avoiding the fact that you’d have to leave this table and go your separate ways soon. The remains of your hashbrowns had long gone cold, ketchup smeared across the plate and you weren’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. “And that you’re in town for some family thing but… if you’re not busy tonight, would you want to come with me to this party? Buddy of mine is throwin’ in, supposed to be nice. Think he gave me a plus one in hopes I’d actually use it.” 

“Damn,” you winced a bit. “I really wish I could but the thing I’m in town for is tonight.” 

“Damn’s right,” he smiled a little. “Think you’d be my best shot for a good time at that thing.” 

“Yeah, back at you for my thing,” you laughed.

“Here,” he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it before handing it over. “Put your number in. Maybe we could still get together later…” 

You took it but hesitated, thumb tapping on the side of his phone case. 

He frowned.

“What?” 

“I live hours away,” you said. “Is this really smart?” 

He shrugged. 

“Don’t really care if it’s smart or not. Just want to see you again. If you’ll let me.” 

You smiled a little and shook your head before putting your number in his phone. 

“There,” you said, handing it back over. “Let me know when you’re done with your thing. I can think of a few more ways to get some good use out of my hotel room.” 

Two more cups of coffee later, Joel dropped you off at your hotel. You kissed him goodbye in the cabin of his truck, moaning against his mouth before pulling away. 

“Alright, go before I come back in with you,” he said playfully, reaching across you to open your door.

You laughed. 

“Don’t tempt me,” you got out and paused before closing your door, taking one last chance to look him over. “If we don’t see each other again… It was good meeting you.” 

“Good meeting you, too,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ll see you again.” 

You went inside, looking back over your shoulder once you were in the lobby, Joel’s truck still sitting near the doors as he waited to make sure you were safely inside. 

There was an odd sense of loss in you as you got ready for your parents’ big anniversary party. You hadn’t expected to meet anyone when on your trip back to your hometown, let alone someone you liked so much. You’d been single for a while, doing things alone didn’t really bother you. But now, you felt this tug of desire to have him getting ready beside you where you could help him with his tie and he could zip you into your dress. 

But that was stupid. You knew it was stupid. Your job had taken you to Memphis and you liked it there. You weren’t in a rush to move back to your hometown. And Joel had a business here. It wasn’t going to happen. It’d be a lot easier in the long run if you just accepted that now. 

You showed up early to the party, your older sister wanting help to get things set up in the tents outside. 

“Who all is coming to this shindig anyway?” You asked as you put pictures of your parents out around a guest book near the entrance of the tent. 

“Oh, you know,” your sister waved you off. 

“Not really,” you said. She gave you a look. “What! I haven’t been home for a family party in… well, it’s been a minute.” 

“Yeah, and I’ve been the one doing all the work to help with those for a while,” she said. 

“And you’re definitely not bitter about that…” 

“Not one bit,” she teased. “But the usual people. The closest neighbors, the aunts and uncles, Mom’s book club, church people, Dad’s friends…” 

“Dad has friends?” You gaped at her. “Since when?” 

“He’s had friends for years!” 

“OK, he’s never had friends,” you said. “Where is he finding friends? Shit’s unnatural…” 

“Don’t let them catch you saying shit,” she said. “And there are a few from work, one from this basketball league he joined…” 

“Ew,” you crinkled your nose. Your sister laughed. 

“Definitely not ew,” she said. “At least not the basketball friend one, he’s weirdly hot, it’s disturbing…” 

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there?” You teased. 

“You’ll eat those words when you meet the guy,” she said. “Just wait.” 

“Whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes, skeptical. You and your sister had never had the same taste in men, you didn’t see any reason for that to have changed. 

But still, you were keeping an eye out for this mysterious hot friend of your father’s as people started to arrive for the party. Or trying to, anyway. You kept getting pulled away by distant relatives you hadn’t seen since your cousin’s wedding or to do a favor for your mom as she frantically rushed around trying to take care of everyone while also trying to have fun at the party that was being thrown in her honor. 

Everything was in full swing when you heard your father call your name from across the large, increasingly full tent. He waved you over, leaning around a man he was talking to, and you worked your way around the dance floor, trying not to think about how much you’d like to have a date at this damn thing - how much you’d like to have Joel as your date at this damn thing - when you froze beside your dad. The man standing next to him was devastatingly familiar, even from behind. Tallest man in the room, broad shoulders, thick curls. Your heart beat faster. 

“Hey honey,” your dad said, tugging you closer. “Want you to meet my friend. Joel, this is my youngest that I’ve told you so much about.” 

He turned around, a beer bottle in his hand a smile on his face that fell the moment he saw you. Your dad was saying something else but you didn’t hear it, too busy staring at the man who had been inside you less than 24 hours earlier. 

The man who had you thinking about what life alongside another person would be like. 

The man who was apparently your father’s friend. 

“Hi,” he said after your dad had stopped talking. You hadn’t noticed. 

“Hi,” you said, still staring at him. 

Fuck, you were in trouble. 

A/N: Here's whatever this is. He's unhinged, I don't know what's happening to the Joels who live in my head lately but they're just going crazy up there. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #dbf!joel x reader

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick? 

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson. 

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization. 

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses. 

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room. 

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip. 

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow. 

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair. 

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast? 

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered. 

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind. 

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window. 

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes. 

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge. 

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword. 

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight. 

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air. 

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night. 

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.” 

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you. 

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin. 

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass. 

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal. 

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact. 

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time. 

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie. 

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration. 

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside. 

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful. 

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost? 

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins. 

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less. 

Your own family had never been so generous. 

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity. 

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat. 

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.” 

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.” 

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night. 

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned. 

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?” 

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.” 

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges. 

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees. 

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?” 

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.” 

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.” 

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground. 

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets. 

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other. 

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched. 

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down. 

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly. 

Relentlessly. 

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding. 

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion. 

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.” 

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh. 

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.” 

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight. 

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain. 

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?” 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?” 

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?” 

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests. 

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist. 

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.” 

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily. 

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.” 

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.” 

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about. 

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies. 

You’d be found out in no time. 

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?” 

Can and not do. 

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals. 

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that. 

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips. 

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?” 

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past. 

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains. 

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you. 

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge. 

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?” 

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.” 

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief. 

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences. 

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools. 

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron. 

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds. 

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes. 

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers. 

There was no running from this. 

“Okay,” you whisper.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 2022 #x female reader #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #mw2 soap #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #john mactavish x reader #johhny soap mactavish #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #cod x female reader

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 4 - They Call Me Kid

AN : So second person won the poll so I guess I will continue in this POV…I love seeing comments so keep at it. And don’t forget that I have a tag list, so just ask if you can be put on it! Enjoy! 

The blare of the alarm from your phone was not fun to wake up to. Arthur had told you many times to change it, but you never listened. If there was a nice tune that was supposed to wake you up, you never would. A sleepy groan escaped your lips as you stretched. You wanted to rub your eyes, but you knew better. Taking a shower was the first thing on your agenda. 

The shower was definitely smaller than the one you had back home, but it would have to do. The water pressure wasn’t great either. You just hoped that the water wouldn’t leave your hair feeling greasy all day. At least you could use the hair dryer. It didn’t take long for the water to warm up. Your muscles instantly relaxed under the stream of heat. 

You definitely fit into the category of “girls who love molten lava water temperature.” Cold showers, or just any cold water, were not your thing. Your trainer often had to force you to get into the ice bath. 

The water helped the sleepiness go away, but a red bull would really get the job done. Knowing the time crunch, you quickly washed and conditioned your hair, along with shaving and exfoliating. You needed to make a good impression on the first day. 

Drying your hair barely took anytime. Since you knew that the simulator would be a big part of today, you forwent the contacts and decided to use your glasses. 

The real driving started on Sunday. Which, you couldn’t help but be excited for. However, you knew how to use a sim, but not the physical car. 

The basics would only help you out so much. 

You shook your head, trying to get out of the oncoming detrimental mindset. You needed music. And there was only one song that you knew would help. 

“Hey Siri, play Life is a Highway by Rascal Flats.” 

The female AI voice responded, “Now playing, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts.” 

The familiar sound of the drums and eclectic guitar filled the small bathroom. Your head started to bob as you began your skin care routine. Your makeup didn’t take long since you had decided to go with your glasses. 

“I’LL BE THERE WHEN THE LIGHT COMES IN – JUST TELL ‘EM WE’RE SURVIVORS!” 

Your hands pretended to play an air guitar as you jumped on your bed. You flung your hair left and right at you went into the chorus. 

“LIFE IS A HIGHWAY, WELL I WANNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT LONG!” 

You, however, were stopped once there was a knock on the door. You quickly turned the music off before clamoring down from the bed. You almost tripped on a loose shoe as you quickly opened the door. 

Standing there was Vito. He took in your appearance before smirking. He pushed passed you and walked further into the room. 

“Well ok then,” you muttered, “just let yourself in I guess.” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to tame the fly aways from your one person concert. 

“Heard you singing down the hallway.” Your mouth gaped. 

“No you did not.” Your shoulders brushed as you walked back into the bathroom. You heard him chuckle as he sat down on your stomped on bed. You quickly finished up. Grabbing your bag, you let Vito know that you were ready. He stood up and walked to the door, with you following behind him. 

You said a quick good morning to the desk workers before walking out the sliding doors. Outside, a nice SUV with tinted was waiting. 

“Front seat or back seat?” you asked. 

“Back.” 

Your hand reached for the back handle and popped the door open. The driver turned around a bit and gave you a smile as you slid on the nice leather. You greeted him before he turned around. The car started to move a bit as you put your seatbelt on. 

“What is on the agenda for today?” you ask Vito as he pulls out a fancy tablet. It looked very similar to the one that Christian had yesterday afternoon. 

“So you have a simulator run, then a suit fitting, and then you need to quickly decide on a helmet design. You could use your current one, but it’s Vegas,” Vito replies. 

“Viva Las Vegas,” you murmured the tune. “When do I need to send in a helmet design?” 

“Probably by the end of the day. They mentioned they needed it soon.” 

“Gotcha.” You quickly took out your phone to start looking over saved designs that you had. Scrolling through your ideas, a couple stood out to you. You reached over to show Vito a few pictures. “Do you think it’s too early for this one?” A bright red and yellow helmet was on display. 

Vito only laughed. “Quite possibly.” He took your phone and scrolled through the rest of the designs. “Your current helmet is white and silver. Do you want to continue or do you want to go with a darker shade?” 

You let out a hmmm. “Let’s keep it white,” you pulled your lip in between your teeth, “and can we add the sparkles?” You were basically a child when it came to glitter. 

“Sure kid.” Vito seemed to screenshot the design and send it to an unknown number. You were satisfied with what you picked. You just couldn’t wait to use the rest of them. You had one picked out for your first actual race, one for COTA, one for Halloween, one for…you got pulled out of your thoughts when the car stopped. 

The building, once again, was very impressive. You could get used to the view. At this point, you never wanted anything to be different. You heard the unbuckling of Vito’s seatbelt and followed suit. You both used the back entrance once again to get into the building. You guessed that RB was very particular about what news they wanted to get out and what news they wanted to keep secret. 

Passing the posters, you felt better about the future. You would be up there, if it was the last thing you did. This time, you followed Vito down a different hallway than the first time. Through a door at the end of the hallway, the two of you entered a giant room with multiple sims. Your heart started to race. You couldn’t decipher if it was from anxiety or excitement. 

Vito continued to walk forward with you hot on his heals. You didn’t want to get too far from him, but your eyes caught the new DMG-1. Even Dams didn’t have this grand of machinery. You had strayed just enough from Vito to be “alone,” but you were still close. Your eyes raced over the sim. Excitement started to buzz in your veins. Your hands itched to touch the wheel. It was all impressive. You didn’t expect anything less from the all-time dominant team. 

“You like it?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. 

You turned your head and your eyes met a pair of brown ones. A woman, taller than you, in an official RB polo stood with one of those tablets. 

You could only nod your head, eyes glistening like a kid in a candy store. This is basically your candy.  

“It-it’s amazing,” you stuttered, suddenly feeling shy. 

The woman let out a small laugh before putting a hand out between the two of you. You grasped the hand firmly as she shook yours. 

“Michelle Williams, your Race Engineer. I’m here to see how you do on the sim.” She gave you a nice smile. 

“Nice to meet you Miss Williams,” you shyly said. This time, her laugh was a little louder as she waved her hands. 

“None of that, people often call me Mitch, and I want you to do as well. You have anything you want me to call you by?” 

Your head cocked. With eyes shifting quickly to Vito, you answered, “They call me kid. I don’t know why, but Vito started calling me that during F2 and it kinda just stuck.” Your shoulders shrugged. You knew exactly why he called you that. You had just turned 17 days before your first F2 debut. You were a kid. Thus, the nickname still stuck. 

She nodded. “Alright kid. You want to show me what you can do?” 

Your eyes widened. “Right now?” 

“Yep. Don’t worry about the others. They’re here for other things. It’s just going to be me and you. A test run for the real thing if you will.” Her smile was comforting. 

You took a deep breath and took a step towards the simulator. You carefully climbed into the machine with the help of Mitch. Once you had gotten situated, you pulled the straps down and buckled in. Mitch handed you a headset and explained that she would have one as well on the outside to get you used to her talking. 

She started up the sim from the outside. You were now in your element. 

From your headset, Mitch talked, “Ok kid. We’re going to do a couple of laps in Vegas to get you used to the layout. How does that sound?” 

You replied, “Sounds good Mitch. Just so you know, I have a borderline photographic memory, so I think I can have it memorized by the first lap” There was a reason for your dominance on the F2 tracks. Tiny details that people might forget after a lap were always noticed by you. Because of your communication with the team, you were able to overcome things that sent drivers into the barriers. 

“Sounds good. Ok, starting the first lap, stand by.” 

You inhaled and exhaled before pressing on the pedals. It was definitely harder than an F2 car, but you could manage. Taking things slowly, you took your time to get the layout of the track and how it felt. You were able to communicate a few things with Mitch as you leisurely drove around. After about 7-10 laps of just driver, Mitch told you to line the car up with the animated P1 spot. 

What you didn’t know, was that the rest of the crew, including Christian had gathered around to see how you did. Vito stood with bated breath. He knew you could do it. 

From you headset came, “This is ‘for real’ now kid. Let’s set an official lap time for the simulator.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You wanted to mock salute, but you needed to focus. You shifted down in your seat to make yourself smaller. 

Once the animated lights changed green, your pretend tires spun as the car accelerated at an amazing speed. You weren’t expecting it but you accepted it with open arms. This is what you were meant to do. 

You eyes stayed laser focused on the track as you went around the first corner. This track definitely had a lot of straights, and you knew that the track was going to be colder than normal. You commanded the car with excellence. You hadn’t even realized that you had already gone around the track. 

Christian leaned over to Vito, “Where’d you find this kid?” 

Vito could only smile and shrug his shoulders. 

You were pulled out of your mindset when Mitch spoke in the headset, “And that is an excellent time of 1 minute and 32 point 799 seconds. Well done kid.” You could practically hear her smile, which made you smile in return. 

“Do I need to go another time?” you asked as you taxied the “car” around the circuit. 

“That’s all for today. I think you need to go with your manager for the suit fitting.” 

“Thanks Mitch.” 

“No problem kid.” 

You parked the pretend car and looked up at the time and smiled. A click caught your attention as a photographer had his camera to his face. He sheepishly smiled as he brought the camera down. 

“Could you send me that?” you asked him as you unbuckled the seatbelts. He nodded and walked away. As you climbed down out of the sim, you finally noticed the crowd. You averted your eyes as you walked over to Vito and Christian. 

“Nice to see you again Mr. Horner,” you said as Vito passed you a water bottle, which you chugged gratefully. 

“Mega job there kid,” he paused, “I can call you that right?” You never would have thought that the great Christian Horner would be hesitant about things like that. 

You let out a little laugh, “Yes sir. Seems like it sticks with me wherever I end up.” You poked Vito in the side. The three of you talked for a bit. Things about the upcoming schedule were discussed before you had a question. 

“Am I meeting Max and Checo at Vegas, or will I meet them before?” 

Christian brought his hand to his chin. “I think we’re going to fly you down on Tuesday and we can all go out to eat.”

“Does, um, Max know yet?” You really didn’t want him to meet you for the first time and just then find out that you were going to be his teammate. Your worries must have shown on your face as Christian put his hand on your shoulder. 

“He already knows. He knows what it’s like, being young and all.” 

“And he doesn’t care that I’m…” you trailed off, leaving the words unspoken. 

Christian gave you a sympathetic look. “Kid, he’s eager to meet you. The guy likes a challenge and I think he’s ready for a new dynamic.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Ok, thank you.” 

“No problem kid. I think though that you are needed in room 3A for a suit fitting.” He pointed in the direction of the room. 

You thanked him and walked over to the door, with a new found confidence you didn’t know you had. 

Opening the door, you were met with another man and a woman. 

“Hey kid. You ready for your fitting?” the woman asked. 

“I was born ready.” 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @alwaysboredsworld

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #alex albon x reader

[evilminji]

Back at it again with the BNHA crossover Ponderings!

Nedzu is LITERALLY one of THE smartest beings on the planet, right? Like... he's probably on some internationally recognized list of Top Planetary IQs? Which is why Japan let's him get away with so much?

Cause they REALLY fucked him over, he has the power to leave, and that would be really, REALLY bad Brain Drain wise/politically for the Japanese Government? (Also pls don't become a Supervillian we literally can not afford that, Mr. Nedzu Sir? Etc etc)

You think he has... like? Chats? With the OTHER top intellects? Some kid in Siberia with the New Super Intelligence Quirk his parents can't begin to even handle, gets put in history's WEIRDEST group chat? I like to think so.

But the REASON I ask this?

What hero do you call? For Weird Shit in international waters?

Suspicious, floating, weirdly two dimensional and HIGHLY radioactive... corrosive... green goop? Rings? Orbs? CAN it be an orb if it's two dimensional? It certainly LOOKS like there is depth to it... somehow...

A THING. In the sky.

Shouldn't be there, man. This is a shipping lane. It's scaring the people on passing ships. No one knows what Quirk could have made this. Might be a trafficking victim's call for help. Might be a first Quirk Use mishap. They need to know what it IS and how to get rid of it.

They go the normal routes first. Doesn't work. Okay, call in some professionals. Kinda pricey, but no big. Right? Doesn't work. Okaaaay, call in a SPECIALIST. REAL pricey, but this thing is holding up international trade, making people in fancy ass suit all Nervous(TM).

Doesn't Work.

Specialist tells um to not to bother with calling anyone else on their normal list. Is looking at the green goo like it spat on his mother and called his dog a whore. They would prefer he NOT make that facial expression. That is a facial expression that will get them yelled at by their bosses. Fuck(TM).

Now Politics(TM) are involved. People want to STUDY the green goo. Harness it for dubious and unknown green goo experiments. Poke it with their Quirk to see what'll happen. There's fuckin REPORTER with no concept of self-preservation, trying to get CLOSER to the RADIOACTIVE POISON GOO.

Fuckin Heros have shown up.

Why are you bastards even HERE. What? Are you peacocks gonna PUNCH it? Get off their rig! Stop posing in front of the GOO!

Then? Oh thank GOD. The SMART people show up. Certified, highest grade, triple refined, PREMIUM Nerds(TM). The WAY above our pay grade folks. We're SAVED! Can we PLEASE go home now? We are just ocean cleaners! Our job is debris! Not weird GOO!

Enter, stage Super Cool Helicopters? The Elite Nerds of Earth. Of which Nedzu is one. Since Japan is closest. And it's a school weekend! He had some time.

And?

Ha ha... Thanks, he hates it! Nedzu's stoat brain is SCREAMING and he wants NOTHING to do with...? What he is somehow CERTAIN is a floating pit of Death! Interesting effect. Anyone getting that or just him?

Then? Some hot head on loan to Korea from the states? Spots something. SomeONE. And does he TELL the newly arrived professionals? So they may do a risk assessment? Figure out a way to rescue this individual SAFELY? Of course not!

Said hot head has supposedly indescribable chains! So he just flings them rights on in! Grabbing the boy from the center of the portal, pulling him free, and in the process? Immediately destabilizing it. Causing it to collapse down towards everyone bellow.

He also then proceeds to DROP the young lad, in his alarm at this entirely predictable outcome.

Right. Into. The Ocean.

A boy, who is dressed in filthy medical scrubs, haunting familiar in a way nothing should EVER be again, and entirely unconscious. Plunge down into the briny deeps and bitter cold. Alone. Abandoned. Death, thick and viscous, losing form and raining down like bile.

Everyone saving themselves.

Ah, he rather liked this suit.

The salt water ruins it. The droplets of Green, burn like molten glass each time they touch him. He will likely have at least a few new scars, after today. Assuming this is not the end of him. But he swims fast. The boy sinking slower then his size would suggest he should. He grabs hold and arcs, dragging them both from beneath the fallout of yet another humans hubris.

He does not stop swimming. Not until he knows he is near the helicopter. He is thankful, that he dragged Aizawa along. The man takes one look at his serious expression, the state of his rescued young friend, and merely hauls them both out of the water and into the machine.

Time to go.

They saw nothing, it seems. And there is nothing to be found.

The boy does not wake. Not for quite a while. Long enough, that Nedzu, perhaps unwisely, has grown attached. Is considering adoption. If only too terrorize a few goverment bodies. And... well... the boy will need some who UNDERSTANDS. And the scars paint a very specific sort of tale. But first, the most important question, when beginning these things...

"Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

@the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter @hdgnj

#minji's ponderings #bnhaxdp #dp x bnha #principal nedzu

[writingsbychlo]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day five)

summary; after getting caught up in a certain tradition, you and az face the outcome on the other side.

word count; 11,036

notes; kick your feet and giggle fluff. you've been warned.

You watched carefully as the wax before you melted, hands joined and propped under your chin, watching as glittery black beads slowly began to pale, swirls of silver sparkling throughout like the night sky. Sitting beside you, signing addresses onto all of the cards you’d spent the morning writing together. 

The candle flickered, casting shadows across the room as the wax continued to soften, and Azriel pushed the final folded letter towards the pile you’d created. 

“Staring at that wax awful hard, you got a lot on your mind?” You could only hum, turning to face him and watching the sparkle in his eyes as the flame flickered behind you. The truth was quite the opposite. There was nothing on your mind. 

For what felt like the first time in a very, very long time, you were entirely at peace. No unmitigated anxieties or lingering problems, no stressful scenarios or job lists to be ticked off the following day. This morning, when you woke up once again tangled in Azriel’s arms, his face almost tucked into your neck, you were happy.

There had been a crumple from his pillow along his cheek that had lasted the entirety of your shared breakfast, his hair still messy even now, as a second hour passed and the unmade bedsheets had grown cold. You’d been waiting for an update on the storm situation, after dragging open the curtains only to find the glass entirely frosted over, stacked over halfway up with snow. 

The fire had been burning steadily since, the logs crackling as the room was flooded with warmth. 

“Wanna’ talk about it?” He raised a hand, brushing one knuckle over the back of your cheek, his brows dipping in confusion. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Az. I’m just happy.” A smile tugged at the edges of Azriel’s lips even if his brows dipped further. “I slept so well. I woke up, with no stress, no worries, just happy.”

“Shadowsinger, spymaster, dreamcatcher. It has quite a ring to it.” He murmured, your scoff breaking the quiet between you both, and it quickly descended into giggles. 

“I was thinking it was more this vacation, thank you very much.” Turning back to inspect the wax, it was just short of two hot, your lips pursing to blow out a thin stream of air to extinguish the candle, as he let out a pained moan, clutching his heart. 

“You mean it’s not my fantastic cuddling? I’m so offended.” Your eyes rolled, laying out a series of letters before yourself and scooping up the bowl, a small serving of molten wax dripping onto the paper before yourself. “Fine, since my services aren’t needed, I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“You do that. You snore anyway.” You passed the latter across to him, watching as he tugged free the ring from his thumb, a signet ring with his initial sitting firmly in the centre alongside the Night Court crest, a gift from Rhysand, so long ago. “Maybe now I’ll actually get some sleep.”

Stamping shut the first letter, he gasped, smothering his chuckle and accepting the second latter you sent his way, peeling the ring away carefully only to mark the next, a system forming between you both. “Oh, that’s how you want to play it?”

“I’m merely stating facts.” You both knew it was a lie, Azriel was as stealthy in his sleep as he was awake, snoozing so quietly beside you that you’d miss him in the dark, shrouded by his shadows for protection, if he wasn’t wrapped around you. He may be silent in his sleep, but he wasn’t still.

When he slept, you’d found Azriel would still hold you tight. If you moved, he moved, his body followed your own, seeking you out even subconsciously, keeping as much of you pressed to him as possible. Wandering hands, clinging touches, needy caresses. 

Azriel, the feared shadowsinger, was a sleep cuddler.

“Alright. Well, maybe I’ll actually get some sleep, without all your twitching. Did you know you move around when you sleep, you’re a vivid dreamer.” He shot back, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. 

“I know, I can’t help it, I have some pretty thrilling dreams about Cassian.” His jaw dropped, and you could see it out of the corner of your eye as you dripped wax onto the final letter, swirling it around into a perfect circle for him to stamp. As he took the letter, he snatched it with a huff, your victory only sitting stronger over him.

“Wait ‘til I tell Nesta.” His final comment was an unofficial surrender to the battle of wit, and he scowled at you as you glanced up, turning to face him in your chair. 

“Who says Nesta’s not in those dreams too? Maybe I need two, I’m a lot to handle.”

“Don’t I know it.” His voice was low, so low you almost missed it, innuendo laced through his words that you didn't quite understand, but you weren’t given much time to contemplate it. A knock at the door broke you from your thoughts, the sound bouncing around the inside of the room, and excitement spiked within your chest. 

The last knock had been merely to collect your breakfast dishes, a promise soon of an update on the weather conditions and your plans for the day, your feet flying cross the floor to receive it as Azriel followed closely behind. He all but crashed into your back as you paused at the door, swinging it open, to reveal Viv standing on the other side.

Pressing up behind you, Azriel’s heat flooded across your back, wings wrapping around you a little, and the woman glanced between you both, the smile on her lips only growing as she took you in. You felt underdressed somehow, even though she was in pyjamas just the same as your own, hair braided neatly over one shoulder, she still somehow managed to look regal, even in sweatpants. 

“We’re snowed in.” 

It was the exact news you’d been expecting, and yet as she truly confirmed it, your heart sank a little. The weather was always going to be unpredictable, at this time of year, in this Court especially, and yet with so little time here, you didn’t want to miss a single day. As if sensing your disappointment, Azriel ran his hand comfortingly down your spine, before settling it on your hip with a squeeze. 

Vivianne wrung her hands together, but never dropped her smile, only letting it become more conspiratorial. “Kal and I were thinking it would be fun to have a game day. Very informal, we can stay in our pyjamas and make snacks. Most of the staff will be out of the palace helping to clear the roads and pathways to the town, the palace is quite low on the priority list for that. Are you feeling up to it?”

“Can we make hot chocolate?” Azriel’s deep voice echoed from above you, a chuckle spilling from Vivianne’s lips, and you turned to look at him, brows raising, and he only shrugged as he looked down at you. “Don’t act like you didn’t know I have a sweet tooth, sugar.”

A blush flared over your cheeks at the nickname, and you rolled your eyes to cover its effect, turning back to your friend instead. “You had me at snacks, and apparently, had Azriel at hot chocolate. We’re in.”

“Fantastic.” Her hands clapped together, excitement clear as day. “Shall we meet at the base of the stairs in a couple of minutes, then?”

You agreed, the door closing a second later, and as you backed away from it, your body pressed into Azriel’s, forcing him to back up with you. As your body came up to his own, the hand on your hip slipped all the way around your waist, tugging you in a spin as he turned towards the bed, your feet leaving the floor, and a giggle leaving your lips. 

“Azriel! Put me down!”

Your toes nudged at the floor, scraping as you kicked, but he wasn’t letting go until he was throwing you down onto the bed, your body bouncing as he passed you by. You rolled across the still unmade sheets, scrabbling to get back at him, and he only grinned wickedly as he closed the door connecting your rooms in your face, holding the handle firmly against you on the other side. 

“Hey! You brute!”

“That was for teasing me before Vivianne came to the door. You wanna’ talk about Cass, I’ll treat you like Cass would.” Your cheeks flushed with heat, palm slapping against the door, but there was no stopping the laughter that spilled from your lips. Cassian had never been shy about his manhandling, whether it be throwing you and Nesta around in training, lifting you out of his way in the Townhouse’s narrow corridors, or simply throwing you over his shoulder when you were too drunk to stumble home from Rita’s. 

Backing away from the door and mumbling under your breath, his own muted laughter on the other side of the door faded away as you both prepared for the day. You straightened out your bedsheets from their crumpled positions, a hand smoothing across your oversized t-shirt on your way to the bathroom. 

By the time you’d finished washing your face and combing your hair, you found Azriel lounging on your bed, lay across it on his stomach, tapping his fingers in boredom as he waited. He’d changed his pyjamas, a new pair of black sweatpants and a matching black t-shirt, which hugged his shoulders unfairly tightly and was almost strained around the thick biceps on display.

“I just made that bed.”

“Oh, because beds can never be remade. How much money you must be wasting buying new sheets every single day.” He mumbled, sliding down to the floor and tugging pathetically on one corner to smooth out the wrinkles, and you scoffed through a laugh as you made your way over to get a pair of fluffy socks from the drawer. You’d only brought a few pairs, not expecting to ever actually wear them outside of the bedroom, and you dug around for the best pair as Azriel shuffled over to join you. “Can I borrow a pair of those?”

You glanced down at his feet, noting the grey socks he already wore. “You’ve got socks on.”

“Yeah, but these look cosier.” He snatched out a pair of pale blue ones, with sparkly thread throughout, and you snatched them right back before he could get too attached. “Hey! Sharing is caring.”

“You’ll stretch them out with your big fuckin’ feet! You’re already ruining a perfectly good t-shirt with your shoulders.” He dropped a look down at himself, flexing his chest and arms unnecessarily. 

“Thanks for noticing.”

“I was insulting you.” You spat back, tongue sticking out, and he only hummed.

“You have to be looking to have noticed anything to insult.” He tapped on the tip of your nose, and you turned away from him, hopping a little as you tugged each sock onto your feet, wiggling your toes and letting him balance you with a hand on each shoulder. When your feet were taken care of, you only had your arms to take care of now, not being gifted with the same resistance to the cold that Azriel was, and you swiped up a hoodie that was lying over the back of the couch. 

It was in your hands for barely two full seconds, before he was pulling it away. 

“That’s mine.”

“Wha- give it back! I’m cold.” He only shrugged, hanging it over his arm, and his eyes twinkled with unknown mischief as you spluttered. “You’re not even using it!”

“So? You’re not using the fluffy blue socks, and yet you won’t let me have those. If I must get frostbite, you get hypothermia.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, unwanting to give in, but you were stubborn. You’d set your heart on that jumper now, and when his cheeky smile grew, you were willing to give in just to stop it getting any wider. “Fine! You can wear the blue socks. I guess I’ll use them as a sleeping bag on my next mission away, when you’ve ruined them!”

He handed over the jumper with a beam, lifting it to your head and hanging it around your neck, before leaving you to do the arms as he retrieved the socks. After successfully shoving his feet into them and tucking them under the cuffs of his pants, he offered you his hand, wiggling his fingers at you and taking your palm. 

Tugging you along and out of the room, Vivianne and Kallias were already gathered at the bottom of the steps when you reached them. Viv was chatting excitedly, while Kal simply watched his wife, tucking a stray strand of white hair behind her ear before cutting her rambling off with a sweet kiss. 

Your heart clenched, and Azriel’s hand squeezed your own. Perhaps he felt the same way, the same happiness but sadness, the balance of adoration for your friends at finding one another, but longing for yourself. It would be nice to not feel so alone in those emotions.

Azriel rustled his wings, a subtle sound but loud enough to gain their attention, both of them pulling apart just to look up, smiling widely as they saw you. “Sorry, we got caught. Had to kiss, I’m afraid.”

Viv shrugged, and Kallias only chuckled, even as his pale cheeks grew pink, and you came to a stop before them, brows raising. “You got caught?”

“Under the mistletoe.” She said, like that cleared anything up, and she pointed over your heads, to the sparkly sprig of greenery hanging from the high archway. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you have weeds growing in your house.” Azriel supplied, and you waved a hand idly in the direction of his body, a soft ‘oof’ leaving him as you smacked his solid stomach, and he nudged you with your linked arms in return. “That wasn’t there last night.”

“It’s magic mistletoe,” Kallias added, the confusion only growing more, and you gasped as you watched it disappear from over your heads, fading away in a puff of glittering white. “It moved around all over the palace, we have several set up. I’m surprised you haven’t seen any yet.”

“I warded their rooms,” Vivianne explained, taking her husband’s hand much the same way Azriel held your own, guiding you along halls you had yet to venture down, leaving you and your companion to follow after her in confusion. 

“It's a tradition here in Winter.” Kal glanced over his shoulder, shrugging a little. “You hang mistletoe at Christmas, and if you get caught under it with someone, you have to kiss them.”

“But it’s just a poisonous plant?” Azriel spoke, and wanted to roll your eyes, swearing he wasn’t cut out for a life as a courtier, if it wasn’t for the pale-haired man’s laugh at his bluntness. Somehow, Azriel seemed to have won Kallias over, the two making for fast friends. 

“I know.”

“So, why? What's the story there?” You pressed a little more, curiosity biting in deep, and as Vivianne threw open a set of double doors to an impressive, empty kitchen, she spun to you with a smile. 

“How about I tell you all about it while we bake?”

She gathered pots and pans, various ingredients were produced which Kallias was quick to take from her hands, measuring the quantities himself and beginning to divide them up, as you gathered around the central island ready to hear the story. 

“It all started with the goddess of love, and her favourite child. He was the god of light.”

“Doesn’t it always start with a god, or love, or both?” Azriel mused, brushing his lips over your hairline to hide his amusement, your cheeks flushing as Viv only watched him, a gentler smile pulling on her features as he left a kiss on your hair. 

“She loved her son so much that she wanted to protect him against everything, so that he could never be harmed.” As Kallias handed her a bowl, and passed one to Azriel too, she began to tell you of the goddess, of the God of Sunlight’s adventures, his highs and lows that led him to need such protection. 

She spun a fascinating tale, you were so caught up in it that you could barely stir your own mixture, tipping the chocolate chips into the batter when it was ready without ever taking your eyes from her. 

“So, she spoke to every animal, and person, and plant. She made everything pledge to never harm him, to protect him at all costs, but she forgot pretty little mistletoe.” She tutted, your heart beating and hand stilling in the bowl as the true excitement of her folklore tale began. Azriel took the bowl, from you, pulling it closer to himself to keep the work going, and you only leaned closer to his side in silent thanks as you continued to listen. 

“So mistletoe killed him because it was forgotten?”

“A trickster killed him.” She corrected, wagging a finger at you for your impatience. “One of the tricksters realised her mistake, and fashioned an arrow out of mistletoe. That arrow was shot straight into his heart, and he died.”

“But why did the trickster do it?”

“Why do tricksters do anything?” To cause chaos. The Night Court had much mythology of its own, regarding tricksters and demons and things that go ‘bump’ in the night, all revolving around making sure children behaved. 

This story was shaping up to have a far more romantic notion. 

She took a break there, leaving you to hang in suspense as the four of you worked to divide gather and shape up cookies, fling tray after tray in the oven until you had more snacks than you’d possibly be able to eat. She was loading pots into the sink for later, Kallias setting a timer on the ovens, and Azriel was leaning back against the counter. 

Tugging you closer to him, his arms banded around your body as your back met his chest, his chin propping on the top of your head as he spoke; “So, how does any of that make a tradition about kissing?”

You let out a steady breath at his question, the cliffhanger you’d been left on finally coming to an end, and you settled your arms atop his as you leaned back into him, both eager to hear the rest of the story. 

“The goddess was distraught, her favourite child had died. But she was a goddess of love, she did not seek revenge. Instead, she cried to the mistletoe, and her tears made white berries grow. When her son died, he took the sunlight with him, and so came the long days of Winter. He died at what you call Winter solstice, and what we call Christmas.”

Kallias joined the pair of you, slinging an arm around her waist. You felt like a child as she spoke of all the changes, of the way mistletoe began to grow, of the goddess seeking out every last shoot of it.

“She enchanted that too, to be the strongest love of all, that anybody caught underneath it should embrace one another in love, not anger or pain. Even enemies on the battlefield would put down their weapons and embrace, and call a truce for that day.”

“Cassian will be thrilled, we’ll buy him enough for a farm, and he can kiss all of our foes into submission.” Your joke brought laughter from them all, but the deep laughter by your ear was the one that left you breathless, a warm puff of air over your cheek. It terrified you, feeling so comfortable in his embrace, it made you want to run, and yet, it also made you want to stay. Hearing a tale of love, wrapped in his arms, leaving you breathless and your heart racing.

“After that, it became a symbol of love. New relationships would share their first kiss underneath it, for good luck. Married couples,” She gave a glance at her husband, who only placed his lips on her forehead in response, “kiss under it to maintain a happy marriage. Parents kiss their newborns to show them their love. It is tradition. You can never be angry under the mistletoe, and you must always show your love.”

“Perhaps we should take some home with us, let Elain grow it. It would make such a lovely addition to Solstice.” 

Azriel only hummed in agreement, clearly contemplating it, and your reverie was broken by the first of the timers going off. The smell of sugar and baked goods filled the air as soon as the door was open, steam pouring out as Kallias’ gloved hand retrieved the first tray, perfectly baked cookies steaming on the metal sheet. 

Together, the four of you worked, scooping up treats from trays to plates, icing and decorating as they cooled, hot chocolate being made, dishes washed, and the kitchen cleaned, until you were all ready to go for your game day.

You gathered the last of the gingerbread cookies, piling them up onto a plate with your poorly decorated chocolate chip cookies and some pastries, Kallias took the large platter from your hands. As you stared at it, it became more and more obvious why none of your career paths had veered towards baking. It was a sad attempt, but it was fun nonetheless, and as long as they were edible, you’d have fun.

Kallias led the way with the food, Viv following quickly after him as she attempted to snatch a cookie from the tray as he swept it out of her reach, the two bickering as they walked. Turning to your best friend, a laugh bubbled up in your throat when your gaze landed on him. 

“What?”

“You’ve got icing on your face.” 

He dipped his head, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, utterly failing to get the smudge of blue icing from his skin. He rubbed again upon seeing your lips pinch to hide a smile, failing again, and your eyes rolled fondly. 

Reaching up to him, your hand sat on his jaw, one thumb swiping over his skin to clear it away, the back of your pointer catching any last smears, and he smiled softly, letting you work. When you pulled your hand away, he had a tissue ready, wiping your finger clean and tossing the ball into the trash. 

“Ready to kick some ass at board games?”

“Az, I was born for this.” Your serious look made him laugh, head tipping back, hand settling comfortably on your lower back as he began to guide you through the halls. The palace was huge, far too big for you to properly learn your way around after only five days, but this route was one you were beginning to know well. Following the joyous chatter of Kallias and Vivianne until the light of the sitting area was spilling out, you let their voices guide you, Azriel’s hand never leaving your back. 

As you rounded the doorway, Vivianne held up her hands, eyes wide and arms extended, a yell on her lips that brought you crashing to a half, Azriel slamming into your back and both of you almost tumbling over. 

“What?” You burst, eyes scanning the immediate area for danger, guard flying back up from where you’d let it slip over the last few days. When you found nothing, you looked back to her, but instead of finding fear, you saw the excitement on her face.

“Look up!” She beamed, your heart thudding nervously in your chest and your eyes slowly travelling up, head tipping back to examine the doorframe above you. Hanging there above your heads was a green sprig of mistletoe, one you know wasn’t there before, and both Kallias and Viv stared innocently with smiles on their faces. Viv’s was wider, Kallias’ was merely indulging, adoring of his wife, and you knew she was behind this. 

Your heart gave another hard thud as you watched Azriel observe it from the corner of your eye. A soft laugh spilt from your lips as you turned to face him fully, his sweet smile setting a wave of reassurance spreading through your chest, and his brows raised a little. His shadows were beginning to swirl up a little higher, over his shoulders and around his head, a tell that he was nervous, and he gave a small shrug. 

“S’okay. It’s just a tradition, right?” Your heart ached a little in your chest at the tone of his voice, something self-loathing and worried in there, just loud enough for you to make out, private from your audience. You refused to believe that after these nights of cuddling, these near-miss moments and the feeling of waking up in his arms, that Azriel didn’t know how you felt. The inkling of doubt in your chest was quickly quashed when you made your decision.

Stepping closer, close enough to throw your arms around his neck and pull yourself up to a more even height, Azriel’s hands steadied you at your waist as his eyes widened a fraction, lips parting in shock. 

“It’s not just for the tradition, Az.” You whispered, before pressing your lips against his own, anxiety thrumming through your body like electric currents, fear taking over every nerve. His hands on your hips tightened, frozen still for just a second, before he was melting against you. Tugging you closer, his hands smoothed around to your lower back instead, a low sound leaving him, muffled between your mouths as he returned your fragile kiss. 

His lips were soft, so much softer than you’d expected, giving and taking as his nose bumped clumsily against your own, learning something entirely new between yourselves. He caught on quickly, though, pulling back barely an inch to take a breath, before twisting his head to the side, and letting his lips find your own once again. Rocking you back to lean over you, your feet sunk to the floor comfortably. 

As the nervousness died away, a smile formed on your lips, despite their current occupation with his own. Filled with burning love and utter devotion, your heart gave one final, steady beat, before something jolted, snapping like an anchor to the ocean floor or a rock through ice, grounding you to the moment with such force that you pulled back with a gasp. 

Emotions that weren’t your own came flooding in, a mirror image of something else, and when your gaze fluttered up to Azriel’s, he only smiled, brushing his thumb over your face, and staring at you like you’d hung the very moon in the sky. 

You knew what that feeling was, you’d waited all your life for it, and apparently, it was no shock to Azriel as he pushed another wave of affection down it towards you. Flicking a glance over to Viv and Kal, Azriel seemed to take the hint, the smile never leaving his face as he let you go. To be discussed later, when you were alone. This was not a moment for anyone else. 

With a final kiss left on your cheek, he stepped back, your cheeks burned hot, shock and surprise now all you could feel, and everything else felt numb. Everything except for where Azriel laced his fingers with your own, much more competent and stable as he tugged you along and into the living room, to the set up of board games and snacks. 

Sinking down onto the floor on one side of the large coffee table, cushions had been laid out, and Azriel took a seta net to you, wings comfortably spreading out across the floor behind him as Vivianne and Kal sat down opposite you. Pulling out the first board game, your hostess jumped into an explanation of it, but your mind was still spinning, utterly disconnected from the moment and in shock as you tried to put it aside. 

Mate.

It was like the word was bouncing around the inside of your skull, every heartbeat sending another echo of it to follow. A bloom of amusement inside your chest, a follow emotion that felt like smoke you could wave your hand through, not tangible like your own, and you’d have to get used to the feeling of… him.

His hand reached out, settling over your thigh and squeezing in gentle comfort, never taking his eyes off of Vivianne as she laid out all the pieces and explained the rules. Staring down at the large, scarred limb sitting so comfortably on your leg, nothing about it felt wrong. Azriel had always been affectionate with you, but openly showing a new level of intimacy, you’d have expected at least some level of weirdness, a period of adjustment. 

But nothing.

Reaching out carefully, you traced a finger over the back of his knuckles, before slipping the hand down and underneath his own, his fingers widening to link with yours. When your hands were laced together fully, he did turn to look at you, raising your hand to his face and pressing a kiss to the back of it, another one to your temple, before turning his attention back to the game. 

It was so simple, so settled, so right. 

Your mind, at last, went silent, because it was like the final puzzle piece had fallen into place, and at last, you could see the whole picture.

Azriel had opted to take a shower as you’d come back to the room, leaving you alone to your thoughts for the first time since your kiss, and they were drowning you. If you paced anymore, you were sure you were going to burn a hole right through the floor and fall throughout the palace.

There was obviously a conversation to be had, there was a bond sitting between your chests, one you were trying very hard not to let be tainted with your anxieties, and yet Azriel’s side was suspiciously quiet. You’d expected more from him, if he truly did already know about the bond between you both, and he was as happy as you believed him to be based on his actions, then why was it so silent?

Finally coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, you stared into the flames, listening to the logs crackle and pop as they burned, trying not to let your worries and insecurities build up once again. Time slipped away from you, the room around you melted into nothing, everything becoming a blur as you got lost in your head, only snapping back into focus at the soft clearing of a throat behind you for attention. 

Leaning on the doorway connecting your two rooms was Azriel - your mate, it seemed - his arms crossed over his chest and eyes raised. His hair was still damp, curling a little at the tips that needed trimming, his shadows swirling despite his calm demeanour, mirroring the worry you felt inside visibly. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded far too quickly, a high-pitched hum leaving you, and instead of pacing, your hands now began to fidget in front of your body. He fixed you with a look, one that suggested he didn’t believe you even slightly, and he’d have been able to tell that even without the bond connecting you both. Holding out his hands at hip height and waving his fingers, he silently beckoned you forwards, as if to prompt you. ‘Come here and prove it’, the action said.

Like a magnet, you were drawn towards him, stumbling across the room until his hands were on you once again, a sigh slipping from your lips as he tugged you into his body. The shadows over his head began to clear, until only a couple remained, hanging in thin air near the doorframe in the shape of mistletoe branches and leaves, and despite all your raging emotions, a smile was pulled from you at the notion. 

You were blasting all kinds of nerves, the bond between your bodies all but vibrating as you looked back to him, pink cheeks and a sweet smile, waiting for your response. A wave of comfort came to you, enveloping all that sickening fear and replacing it with adoring warmth, only confirming that he did know it was there, connecting both of your hearts. 

A small, breathless laugh left you at the feeling. You’d have to get used to that. With the sound, he sent another pulse of love, one so deep and unending your knees almost went weak, almost letting you tumble to the ground. Perhaps this was why you’d felt nothing from him, why nothing felt any different. 

This wasn’t new, you’d always felt a connection to Azriel that you couldn't explain, but never in your wildest dreams would you have thought you’d be lucky enough to be his mate. Instead of a sudden snap, or a surprise click, this had been a slow-forming thing, burning hot and bright within you both since the day you’d met, and building up one thread at a time. Unnoticeable as it grew, until it was too strong to ever be broken. 

You’d always been able to read him so well, and he’d known you like he could read your mind. Turns out, it was your heart he could read instead.

Wrapping your arms around his neck once again, he hauled you up against him, supporting your weight as he lifted you onto the tips of your toes, and met you halfway to the kiss. 

Just like before, it was shy and tentative, a new step in your relationship that had to be learnt, and you took it slow. Your mouth moved cautiously against his own, memorising every drag, every feeling of his soft sighs and the sweet sounds he made. It was intoxicating to be so close to him, to indulge in something you’d only ever dreamed of, and for it to feel so normal.

Like you were always meant to be right here, your lips moulded to Azriel’s and hearts beating as one. Nothing had ever compared to this, and nothing ever would. 

Nervous kisses melted away into curiosity. What had once been delicate, his hands sitting steady on your waist, soft presses of his mouth to your own, smiles and bumps as you twisted and learned became smoother. His fingers danced up your spine now to cup the back of your head, your fingers lacing into his hair, and he held you where he wanted you, each kiss getting longer, deeper, lips parting further as you grew bolder. 

Scratching your nails lightly over his scalp, Azriel gave a soft moan, the sound making your head spin and lips part. Given the chance, he sucked your lower lip gently, until you were so dizzy with the feeling that he was all that was holding you up. Twisting you around, your back pressed into the doorframe as he towered over you, one, ragged breath taken before his lips were crashing back down into your own, and it was your turn to moan. 

His tongue slipped between your parted lips, stroking slowly over your own, sensual in a way that made you breathless, letting him suck the air from your very lungs as you tasted him for the first time. It was addictive, the feel of him on you, the taste of him in your mouth, something you never wanted to forget, and never wanted to let go. 

His body was firm against your own, heart beginning to beat faster and faster once again in response to your own as something much fierier began to unfurl in your chest, flames burning hotter and higher together. Dragging his mouth from your own, you were left panting, his lips glistening and eyes dark as he pulled back to take you in, staring as though he’d never seen anything like you before. 

You couldn't take it, the intensity of his love, of his passion, it was too much, and if you were going to have any self-control at all, you had to act. You pulled him back down, until your lips could brush across his lips again in a kiss only designed to be a peck. By the time he was reciprocating, you were moving on, a kiss to his cheek, to his jaw, to his chin, anywhere you could reach, until the heat died down, and a laugh left his lips when you blew air over the ticklish spot below his ear. 

“So, that’s new.” You whisper, placing a kiss on that spot before sinking back down, letting him keep you crowded into the frame, but with your foreheads resting together, eyes closed. 

“Only physically.” He mumbled back, hand sliding away from your hair and down your arm, to link your fingers together instead. “I’ve been kissing you in my dreams for a long time now.”

“That was so cheesy.”

“Get used to it.” His laughter was laced into his tone, and your eyes rolled behind closed lids, but the smile never faded. “You’re the best gift I could have ever asked for.”

At that, your eyes snapped open, the excited gasp on your lips making him follow suit, pulling back to stare curiously. “I got you some really good gifts under the tree. I mean, maybe not as good as a mating bond, but, pretty good.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the look on his face, slipping out from under him and tugging him by your connected hands toward the couches, to which he happily followed. As you gathered the gifts, he winnowed out, returning minutes later with hot chocolates and a bag in hand, and making his way back over to your side. Sinking onto the carpet in front of the fireplace instead, you left him with a single, deep kiss in thanks, before retrieving the mug from his hands, and blowing carefully at the steam.

Marshmallows bobbed across the surface as he took a seat before you, tucked underneath one wing and pressing up to your side. Placing the bag into your lap, you found the remnants of today’s gingerbread cookies, the ones that had been your absolute favourite all day. Your head snapped up, lips parting to ask how he knew, before feeling the tug in your chest at the bond, and your lips closed once again, your answer found. 

As he sipped at his hot chocolate, you paced your own to the side, taking his cheeks in your hands and pulling him close enough to leave a kiss on his lips, his eyes sparkling when you pulled back. 

“What was that for?”

“Just for being you.” For being mine, you added mentally, and warmth rose to his cheeks, painting them a pretty pink in response. Dragging the two stockings across the carpet toward you first, you placed one into his lap, and he discarded his own hot chocolate to take it, watching you do the same. “Open the small ones first.”

He tipped it upside down, sending several small packages tumbling out across the floor, and he lined them up neatly, before picking up the smallest first. Slipping his thumb underneath the wrapping, you watched excitedly as he opened it up, a small box tumbling out. Picking it up, he turned to face you with a smirk, running his thumb over the velvet of it. “A ring box? Baby, it’s been hours since you gave me our first kiss, little soon, no?”

“Oh, shut up.” You blushed, slapping at his arm as he laughed. “I didn’t know when I bought this. Besides, wrong finger.”

Opening it up, sterling silver shone up and caught the light, showing off the engravings inside of snowflakes and Winter Court symbols, as well as the dates of your trip carved onto the inside. Lifting it out, he admired it for a second, before slipping it down onto an unoccupied pinkie, and holding it up to see. “How’d you get it so perfect on the sizing?”

“Sometimes I steal your pinkie ones to wear on my thumbs, so I knew one of mine would fit in reverse.” his gaze moved from his finger to you, lips rolling together to conceal a smile, and just before his mouth opened, the feeling racing down the bond warned you of the kind of comment that was coming. 

“If you wanted me to give you a ring, you shoulda’ just asked.”

“Yes, every girl’s dream is to ask for a proposal.” You scoffed, leaning away from him only to be met with the resistance of his wing, snapping against your back to send you tumbling back into his side. 

“Fine. When the time comes, I’ll surprise you with it, then. Catch you off-guard. But don’t complain now if your engagement memories are all of you in sweatpants or pyjamas. Or better yet, nothing at all.” Licking over his lower lip, he winked, and you groaned, burying your head in your hands, only to enhance his amusement. He reached across you, plucking up one of the gifts from inside your stocking, and balancing it on your knees, before tugging your hands away. “C’mon, you open this one.”

It was in different wrapping paper to all the rest as you scooped it up, and he scratched the back of his neck, smile dimming from amused to shy. “I got you this back home, I was planning to give it to you here anyway.”

You offered a silent oh. Turning back to the small package and tearing it open gently, and allowing a small, woven strand to fall out. About the length of your hand, woven together were blue, silver and black threads, a gem sitting in the middle that was awfully similar to one of Azriel’s siphons, a few silver charms laced throughout it. Tracing your thumb over them, you identified each one. 

A dagger, a heart, a crescent moon, a star, and a wing. 

“What is it?” You were breathless as you admired it, a perfect representation of Azriel, and he took it from your hands carefully. 

“It's… a bracelet. Gwyn likes to make them. I saw her wearing one at training one day and she told me about them. I made it for you. You’re all I ever think about, so, maybe it was selfish, but I wanted you to have something that made you think of me. I wanted you to have something that would make me come to mind when you saw it. You don’t have to wear it, but-”

“What are you talking about?” Thrusting your arm out before him, a sense of relief filled you inside, and his face softened to match the emotion. “Put it on me right now, and when we get home, I’ll have it enchanted to last. I don’t want to take it off, ever.”

“Well, that’s just a little dramatic.” He teased, but did as you said, latching it carefully onto your wrist and tying it tight so it wouldn't slip off by mistake. “You really like it?”

“Like it? Azriel, I love it.” You traced your finger carefully over the woven strands, the silver one showing a little glitter as you examined it even closer, and your cheeks started to hurt from how much smiling you were doing. “For the record, though, you don’t need to give me any gifts or jewellery to be on my mind. You’re living there rent-free already.”

He didn’t reply, turning away to hide the look on his face by selecting another gift instead. 

On and on you went, exchanging gifts and stealing kisses between them, moving through the piles as you opened everything you’d found for one another since arriving. 

You gave him some mystery books, a couple of new notepads and pens, and some various creams and potions. Also on his pile were the enchanted gloves, designed to keep his hands warm, a new dagger sheath with his initials printed in, and a first-aid kit that could fold up small and fit into his bags for missions. Lastly, were a few fidget toys you’d found, his shadows being the true recipients for those, and they were already busily occupying themselves with their new toys, leaving their master to a little peace and quiet. 

That particular gift has been such a hit that Azriel had practically dived atop you, his lips meeting your own as your back met the carpet, giggles swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you passionately enough to convey his thanks. 

His gifts for you included some romance books that he said came highly recommended, accompanying the statement with a smirk. Also in your pile was a new, handmade scarf, with bright colours and soft fabric that you couldn't wait to wear. A bookmark, a couple of candles, and a pair of earrings designed to look like the falling petals of your favourite flower.

He’d received equally passionate kisses for each of those, time melting away around you each time you fell into him. By the time you were finished, you were surrounded by piles of gifts, and bundles of discarded wrapping paper. Empty mugs, an abandoned bag of crumbs as you’d finished the cookies between you, the fire dying down to embers, sorely in need of new logs but utterly neglected as you’d kept one another warm all evening instead. 

“Should we tidy up a little?”

“‘Suppose so.” The words were mumbled into your hair as Azriel continued to nuzzle there, holding you curled against his chest as you laughed. Pushing yourself up onto legs that had gone numb long ago, he groaned, holding out his hands to you and letting you tug all that heavy Illyrian muscle to its feet, before stretching out and shaking his wings into action. “I’ll put the gifts away in our cases if you handle the other stuff?”

“Sounds like a deal.” You dropped down, scooping up the bundles of wrapping paper into your arms, crunching them tightly into balls as Azriel gathered up all of your gifts first, carrying them over to the bed and pulling out the case you’d stashed underneath. They took up half the space just as you watched him begin to stack things inside, a problem considering you had the rest of your belongings still to go back in there in a few days, but you’d have to figure it out. Maybe he had spare room in his. 

You eyed the pile of gifts you’d given him. Probably no spare room there, either.

Tossing the bundles of paper into the fireplace, the flames rapidly began to grow back to life, and you poked in the ashes to revive a little more heat, adding a few more logs and some coals to make it through the night. Gathering his gifts, he took them away to his room, leaving to clear up the mugs and wrappers, and drag the coffee table back into place. 

Just like that, the last few hours had all been cleared away, your room restored to its satisfying tidiness. You sensed Azriel before you saw him, every cell in your body reacting as he walked back into the room, making his way over to you, and letting you turn to face him just as he reached for you. 

Falling into his touch felt like home, his arms banding around your body as you cupped his face, smiling up at him as you took him all in. “Wow,” Running your fingers over his cheekbones, you shook your head in disbelief. “Wow, you’re mine?”

Silver lined his wide eyes, and he sucked gently on his lower lip as he nodded. “And you’re mine, my love.”

Your heart skipped several beats at the new pet-name, and you hoped you never heard yourself be referred to anything else from him ever again, because Azriel’s love was all you ever wanted to be known as now.

It was agonisingly slow, the pull and take, the give of his lips as they moulded to your own, bodies pressing further and hands grabbing, until the place where you ended and he began became blurred. Your hands were in his hair, familiarising yourself with the softness of the stands, the way he’d hum against your lips when you tugged on the strands, the way his hands would tighten on your hips. 

Teasing his tongue along the seam of your lips, you parted them, waiting for more, but he chose that moment to tease. Instead of diving further, he pulled back, lips grazing along your jaw as he dipped you backwards, head hanging on your shoulders as he kissed his way to your neck. 

“Az…” The words were breathy on your lips, his answering groan reverberating along your skin, sucking some of the skin between his lips until it stung and you gasped, his tongue soothing over the patch a second later. “Azriel…”

“Don’t say my name like that, it’s driving me crazy.” Tugging your hips flush to his own, your whimper was barely contained by his mouth sealing back over your own. More urgent now, he took that opening, tongue plunging into your mouth and coaxing your own to play, hot and frenzied as he took control. Another moan slipped through, one that had his hips jerking against your own as he gave a soft grunt in response. 

“You taste like peppermint, Az.”

“You taste like gingerbread.” He returned, biting lightly on your lower lip in response, and your mind swirled in response to the teasing nip. “I think it just became my new favourite treat.”

Sliding your hands down from his hair to his chest, you pressed lightly, pushing him backwards. He stumbled away, eyes snapping wide and hands leaving your body, fear of crossing a line, and you smirked at his misunderstanding. Backing him up, you followed his steps, until his legs were pressing to the edge of your bed, and he was falling back to sit. His confusion became a grin as you crawled into his lap, a leg caging either side of his hips, and his large, calloused hands slid up your thighs slowly. 

Your lips slammed back into his own, Azriel’s moan in your mouth tasted like honey on your tongue as you reunited once again. It was preposterous, to think you’d known Azriel for so long and hadn't been doing this the whole time, to think that you hadn't spent every moment of every day kissing him. The bond between your bodies was pulling taut, shaking with glee and glowing so bright it could light up the night sky. 

You could feel it within you, all but singing with anticipation, and you rocked your hips into his own. That one, small movement had you both falling apart, wanton spills of needy sounds leaving you as you repeated it, again and again, riding him through layers of clothes as your kisses grew messier. His hands took over, slipping over your hips to sit on your ass and squeeze roughly, rocking you down against him perfectly until your eyes were rolling in your head, the perfect friction pressing into you. 

Your hands skated around his body, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his lungs under your hands, until your fingers were running down the seam of buttons under one wing on his back. 

“Fuck, Az…” Your whimper only made him growl, picking up his intensity, biceps flexing through the sleeves of his t-shirt as he used you like a toy against his body. Your foreheads were pressed together, lips barely brushing with every pant for breath and your gaze moved down to watch the place that you were rocking together as your fingers fumbled with the catches. 

Your panties were sodden now, likely dripping through, and you were sure that you were starting to spot a wet patch growing on his sweats from your movements as you undid the seals behind his back. As soon as they came loose, you were pulling back, motions stopping for a torturous moment as you tugged his t-shirt up and over his head now that they were free of his wings, having to raise on your knees to get it off his arms. 

As soon as it was free, you were tossing it away, his hands returning to your body and he slammed you back down against his clothed erection, a cry spilling from your lips at the act. 

“Oh, gods, you feel so good already.” His head fell forwards, forehead sitting on your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin as he bit down to hide his desperate sounds. Your fingers traced over his shoulders, tattoos you’d seen a thousand times before but you’d never had an excuse to touch. So many promises, so many bargains, you wondered how many of them belonged to you. 

Over the centuries, Azriel had made many promises to you, and as if reading your mind, his head lifted. Taking your hand, he dragged your touch down from his shoulder to sit over his heart, various swirling patterns that would blend into the rest at a distance, and your fingertips twitched over his skin. 

“Your promises sit right here, every mark you’ve ever left on me has been on my heart, inside and out.”

“Oh, Azriel.” His hand sealed over the top of yours, your rocking slowing to a stop as your other hand cupped his face, breaking through the heavy lust for a breath of fresh air. He leaned up, nose bumping your own, smiles that made it impossible to kiss as you shared the same breath. “I can’t believe it.”

“You never even suspected it?”

“I never considered myself your equal, it didn’t seem possible.” Your power was nothing compared to his, your skill and stealth the same, and he gave an empty laugh, stealing a kiss from your lips despite it.

“You’re worth so much more than I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You scoffed, peppering his cheeks with kisses to banish his self-deprecating thoughts, and you felt the stretch beneath your lips, a tell of a smile. Sitting back you tugged your shirt up and over your head, breasts spilling free before his eyes, and he licked his lips, fighting to keep his gaze on yours. “You can look, Az. I’m yours to look at.”

“If I look, I’m going to lose every last shred of self-control I have.”

“So lose control.” Your smirk was back, leaning in to brush your lips together and taking his hand from his own heart, bringing it to sit in the centre of your chest above your own. “Every beat is for you, Azriel. I never let myself think about it, because it would have crushed me to know I wasn’t yours. I was preparing myself for the eventuality that one day you’d find them. Someone incredible, someone who is your equal, in power and skill and every way that matters.”

“You may not be as strong as I am.” He mumbled, standing from the bed with you in his arms, like you weighed nothing at all as he kept your legs tight to his waist and twisted you to the bed. “But that is because you’re not Illyrian.”

He crawled up and over you, balancing his weight on his knees and palms as he caged you in. Reaching over his shoulders, you dragged one finger along the ridges of his wings, watching his face screw up and jaw drop open as you toyed with his most Illyrian trait. 

“You may not have as much stealth as I do, but that is only because you don’t control the shadows to hide in.”

You never noticed the shadows snaking up your legs, the dark tendrils helping him to lift your hips, and he eased your leggings and panties down your legs, your thighs clamping shut with a sudden wave of anxiety as he dropped the material to the ground, leaving you bare before him, tracing his hands up your calves again. 

“You may not have my power,” His hands closed over your knees, forcing your legs back apart for him to settle between, and a flush of heat left a blush over your body at his strength. “But that is because your skills lay elsewhere, my love.”

“Oh, yeah?” There wasn’t nearly as much sass as you intended, and he only nodded, dipping down to leave kisses on your inner thighs, groaning the closer he got to your dripping centre. 

“Yes, darling.” Circling one finger at your entrance, your head fell back, a cry of his name as he sank that finger deep into you, biting down on the inside of your thigh as he slid into you easily. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“A result of another of your skills.” You huffed out, back arching as he crooked his finger, teasing you for your comment and pumping that lone digit. 

“You are sweet, and friendly, and the best courtier I’ve ever seen.” He picked up speed, your fingers clenching in the sheets, dragging at them as you clawed for strength, for anything to hold onto. “I may have brute strength in a physical fight, but I have never seen anybody win an argument like you, to win a battle of wit.”

“So, I’m the best at being bitchy? Gee, tha- ahh! Azriel!” Your sarcasm was cut short by one finger becoming two, a slam into you as your eyes rolled back, and he chuckled at the pathetic serious of whimpers you let out when he began to stretch you out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“You’re also the best at winding me up, nobody gets under my skin quite like you do.” Your body was trembling, teetering on the brink of ecstasy as his fingers continued to seek out and abuse the spot inside of you that made you cry out. “But despite those shining qualities, they are not my favourites. Your heart is equal to mine; you love fiercely, you care deeply, you are loyal and kind and true. You are brave and strong of spirit, and you never give up.”

Slipping his thumb up to your clit, your back arched clean off the bed, a few sloppy circles had your mind shattering as you exploded into bliss. His voice soothing you through it, deep and raspy as he watched you unfold, a spike of arousal in your chest from him as he watched you crest. 

“Most of all, my love,” He pulled his fingers out, your legs still shaking in the aftermath as he began to kiss up your body, letting your thighs tremble on either side of his hips as his lips found yours again. “Your power, is over me. I am entirely at your mercy.”

“Kiss me.” You begged, shaky hands coming up to grip his cheeks, and he nodded.

“With pleasure.” His lips worshipped yours the way his words had worshipped your mind, the way his hands worshipped your body, and your grip skated down to push at the last clothing on his body. Shoving at them, you whined at the effort, sitting up and letting your chest press to his own until you could get them down, his cock springing free, slapping between your wet folds and nudging your swollen clit. “Are you s-”

“Don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me if I'm sure, when thinking about this, thinking about you and me has been my guilty pleasure for decades.” Wrapping your fingers around him, he offered a shaky moan, hips rolling with your movements as you dragged his cock through your wetness, gathering your arousal onto his tip, before lining him up. 

“Not just for the bond, then?” He questioned, laying back into the sheets, one hand at a time raising above your head as he pinned them there, stretching your chest out before his face. Shadows swirled at your wrists, holding them in place for himself, a couple more tugging your ankles apart, rendering you utterly at Azriel’s mercy. 

“Not just for the bond, Az. For you.”

He nudged inside, sinking slowly into you, inch by inch until you felt like you were going crazy, needy for every inch of him to fill you up, for that bond to reach its strongest yet as your bodies connected wholly. When his hips finally sat snugly against your own, you were babbling his name senseless, and he was panting shallow breaths through his teeth to hold himself steady. “Gods, you feel like heaven.”

Azriel pulled back, a single thrust that had both of you calling out, your hands gripping him, legs tight around him, and he did it again. Building up steadily in pace, he rolled his hips into your one, hard and deep, your body firing in response like nothing you’d ever felt. With every slam of his hips into yours, every whisper of praise in your ear, you reached higher and higher, feeling like you were leaving your body behind. 

His name was a whine on your lips, your hands struggling over your head, fighting against his bonds, and they gave little. His head dipped down, marking every spot on your skin with his kisses, until he was tugging one of your nipples between his teeth, and tears line your eyes at the spark along your spine that resulted. 

This wasn’t just fucking, this wasn’t just making love. This was two souls bonding, finding one another and trying together so fully that you’d never be apart again.

“Please, please, Az. Let me touch you too.”

You found the strength to lift up, to meet his lips as his head raised to yours, a sloppy kiss slamming in the middle of you as his speed picked up. Every part of you honed in on the connection of your hips, the shudder that shot up your body each time, enough to send you flying up the bed if it wasn’t for his hold keeping you in place. You couldn't help the thought flickering through your mind, thanking the Mother and the Cauldron and everything else that the man you’d be tied to for the rest of your life was fucking phenomenal in bed.

“I want to hold my mate.”

He groaned out, body weakening at the word that fell from your tongue, and the shadows slipped away only a second later. As soon as you’d regained use of your hands, you were doing just that, surging out to hold onto him. One hand looped around his neck, holding him tight as your heads sat together, eyes held in an endless gaze, and he slowed his movements, bringing you back down to earth as your body wound up tighter. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” You teased, running a hand down his sweat-slicked arm, and he caught it, lacing your fingers together and pressing it back into the bed. The frantic swirling of his shadows began to calm, a frenzy becoming a sensual dance as his thrusts became nothing more than slow rocks into you, your hips working together in harmony. 

“You’re so much more than I could have ever dreamed up.” Your chest filled with emotions, clashing between your hearts along that newly formed bond, and you squeezed at your connected hands. 

Raising your other hand over his shoulder, you didn’t take it gently this time, swiping your palm along the inside of a flared wing, and he roared. A sound that wracked through your body, his hips growing fast once again, violent thrusts the longer your hand remained, his control fraying as you brushed the right spots. You’d touched his wings before, all the places that caused no sensitivity and arousal, this time aiming for every place you’d never dared reach for.

Moving inwards, toward the base of his wings, your touch grew firmer, rubbing your thumb along the place where his wings met his muscled back on the inside, and a broken sob left his lips as his arms gave way. The full weight of him collapsed down atop you, hips grinding, your own orgasm teetering on the edge. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop…”

As your peak crashed into your full force, his name was a shout on your lips as you came undone, your palm pressed into the thick leather of his wings. Twitching fingertips, your nails scraped, and with a sound like you’d never heard him make before, Azriel followed you over the cliff. 

His body shook, warmth erupting inside of you, leaking out around your connected bodies as you tried to rock up into him, meeting him thrust for weak thrust until the stimulation was all too much. He pulled his cock from you with a trembling breath, barely pulling away enough to release him before he was collapsing back down on top of you.

It hadn't been the wildest of sex, nor had it been the best it would be, you knew that by the feelings in your chest he sent across. No, this was different. This was needy and frantic and overwhelming because it was new. It was a boundary being crossed, it was lives being changed, it was the future finally falling into place.

Just one day ago, this time last night, he has nothing more than your best friend. As you’d curled into him to fall asleep one day ago, it had been with no idea what his lips tasted like, or what it felt like to connect to him so completely. 

His arms banded around your waist, soft kisses to accompany the thoughts you must have been blasting out as clearly as screaming them aloud, and he settled his head on your chest after leaving a final kiss on your lips. You let your arms circle him too, a kiss on the top of his head that made him smile against your skin. 

You both agreed, as you fell asleep once again tangled in each other’s arms, that nothing would ever be the same.

#under the mistletoe #UTMi #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

[chiwhorei]

【 Fᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴍᴇ. 】

╰┈➤ I found this?? In my drafts??

╰┈➤ Tags: no edit, drabble, NSFW, A/B/O, knotting, pain, pussy-drunk alpha!Kiba x fem reader

I think Kiba would nearly fuck you dead while he’s in heat. his knot would literally tear you in half and he’s always so worried about going too far. If he looses control, he could break you open cunt. first.

And that’s what you seem to want.

The way your pussy stretches to accommodate his fattened shaft makes his eyes gloss over. No one else has ever taken him like this even when he’s not in heat.

He used to fuck you like you were porcelain, bracing for the splintering of glass and never letting himself let go completely. Even on a normal day, Kiba would still the roll of your hips with stern, white-knuckled grip.

“Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, sweetheart.”

His voice barely passes between his teeth, his canines sharp and glinting brightly.

You’d let him eat you alive. And that fucking scares Kiba.

You’ve been flirting with the point of no return for a while now, grinding on his painfully hard cock when his heat comes on. Seeing how far you can push him until he rips you off of his lap and locks himself in another room.

You had to beg him to let you sleep over tonight, promising to tell him if he’s going too far- but nothing of the sort is coming through the unintelligible garble of moans and pleads your lips are spilling.

He’s been lapping at your pussy for what feels like hours, nipping at your sensitive clit with a measured bite- not too hard, he reminds himself. He’s playing with God tonight too.

Eating your pussy is all Kiba’s confident in doing while his heat is pouring molten lava into his veins, but tonight is the worst it’s been in a long time. Even his jaw feels like it’s on a hairpin trigger.

He should have left town, begged you to stay far away. But you wouldn’t have listened, you never do, and fuck, that makes Kiba’s cock pulse.

Your pussy is drowning him, giving and giving with no end in sight. How many times has he felt the spasm of your pussy against his mouth tonight? Kiba’s lost count. It’s only when you start calling out for him that he rips his mouth from your cunt with a growl.

“I need you Kiba, I need you so much it hurts.” The way your voice sounds like a cry for help makes him dizzy.

Even stone sober, Kiba can’t refuse you, he’s holding onto his resolve by his teeth. Your body’s writhing like liquid gold directly under the swollen shaft aching in his sweatpants.

“You know I can’t let you take my knot like this baby.” He’s begging you more than he’s telling you no. Begging you not to ask him again, because he’s running out of control by the second.

“Kiba please..” your voice is a sirens call, the last syllable still at the tip of your tongue as he’s pulling his pants down. His cock is rutty and thicker at the base than you could have imagined.

“If I tear you in half, just know that it’s your fault,” he pushing in as slow as he can, hand shaking a bit as he holds the tip against your twitching little hole.

Kiba lowers to his elbows, trapping you like a fawn in the jowls of a wolf. His teeth are barred as he pushes in, an inch farther, another, until you feel the swell of his base against your lips.

Fuck. You’re tight enough to be lethal. So taughtly stretched around his shaft that it’s almost painful. Kiba pushes his knot in completely, balls slapping against your ass. Your breath catches, eyes rolling to the back of your head and for just a moment Kiba worries he’s earnestly fucked you to death.

But then he feels it, your pussy constricting and relaxing around him like he’s so, so familiar with. Your hips start to buck in search for more. You need more.

“Kiba, fuck me like you’re trying to kill me. Please.”

How’s he supposed to say no to that?

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2023©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

#kiba x reader #Kiba x reader smut #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #Kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #naruto shippuden x reader #naruto shippuden smut #tw.abo

[tired-biscuit]

18+ fem!reader // quirkless AU. cw: alcohol, infidelity.

thinking about your friend's sweetheart of a boyfriend kirishima, who stays up and helps you clean after everyone else has already either passed out on your couch, or left the party you've thrown to celebrate your new job promotion, and thus an upcoming - unavoidable - switch to another city.

it's almost four in the morning, you're tired from all the socializing and drinking, and yet you catch yourself feeling pleasantly surprised by the fact that your friend's new boyfriend offers to keep you company as you try and sort out your home into its previous state of tidiness that you're normally used to.

the task before you is certainly no easy job after hosting such a fun party, however luckily for you, kirishima - or kiri, as he tells you to call him - is still as talkative and chipper as ever as he helps you gather and take out all the garbage, screws shut and sorts the remaining bottles of alcohol back into the fridge, and makes sure that all of the chairs find their rightful place back at the dining table, exactly where they belong.

and before you know it, all that's left to do is to take care of the dishes. feeling bashful all of a sudden from accepting so much help from a man you barely know, you repeatedly try to reassure him that you can handle this pesky little chore all by yourself, so that he can go join his girlfriend upstairs in the guest room because she must be surely missing him by now.

however, eijirou, being the good sport that he is; insists on offering a helping hand by grabbing a nearby dishcloth and waving you over to the pile of dishes that are waiting for you both, now, it seems.

so, you agree - happily. selfishly. even make a little show of it by rolling your eyes before approaching. i mean, how couldn't you, when he's just so nice?! he stands next to you by the sink, all big and warm, glancing at you every so often from the corner of his eye, easily making conversation and asking you where he should sort the various plates and glasses which you've still got to pack in the upcoming weeks. he makes you ogle a little bit whenever he stretches his arms to open and close the cupboards you point your chin towards every time. makes you leer.

there's chemistry; an instant spark you fail to snuff out even though deep down you know you should - he's your friend's man, for fuck's sake, not yours. it's tough. you try not to flirt whilst you think about the faint nip of guilt that's appearing in your conscience every now and then, but you simply have to admit it to yourself; you're attracted.

he's handsome and nice on the eyes with his broad shoulders, burly physique and defined jaw. strong. enticing. just your type.

and that's not all. after sneaking several looks at him during the party, you've learned that he has this constant grin playing on his face that you could almost describe as cheesy from how big it gets, and a thunder of a laugh that had struck your very soul whenever it boomed throughout the space during the course of the night.

but those are all things you've noticed from afar. now that you can see him more up-close, you realize that his eyes are striking and clear. they burn like a forge no matter the hour, making it seem like his irises contain molten glass. the feverish intensity in them matches the colour of his hair. it's like he burns from within - a true embodiment of a wildfire breaking free stands right before you.

he doesn't burn you, of course, as much as you think he would own the power to actually do it. the touch of your fingers brushing against his bigger, more calloused ones - god, they're just so thick - whenever you hand him a utensil or a cup is shiver-inducing, yes, but you also know that it is purely coincidental.

though, the touch of his hand, landing onto the small of you back the moment the dishes are taken care of, isn't coincidental. it isn't coincidental at all.

just like the way he turns and looks at you then, so attentive and inquisitive all of a sudden, isn't. staring up at him with a hammering pulse and a tight throat, you realize you're standing much closer to each other than you thought at first. the proximity is already small, but as if he's trying to provoke your limits, he makes it even smaller when he takes your hand in his so that he can wipe away the droplets of water off your almost-trembling digits.

he's still looking at your pretty manicure as he places the dishcloth back onto the counter. the way his callouses scrape your palm is to die for. it makes your stomach clench, because it tells you he's a working man. a capable one, who could fix things for you with seemingly no trouble.

a man who could perhaps help you set up the furniture that will surely be causing you many headaches as you settle in your new apartment.

"you're moving in a few weeks, right?" he asks quietly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. you've noticed that he slurs on his words a bit, but the rasp that riddles his voice still makes you nearly preen from how inviting it is to listen.

"yeah, that's, uh... that's right," is all you reply with, because it's all you're capable of at the moment. the lump inside your throat is still annoyingly present, and the kitchen is semi-dark, and you're both tipsy and he's standing so close, towering over you in a way that you can smell his potent scent and almost taste it sitting on the flat of your tongue at the same time.

there's silence. and also tension. the sticky kind.

"aw... what a shame, really," he mumbles, the corner of his mouth kicking upwards before he turns it into a subtle pout instead. he sounds genuine even if the expression that he now allows to show on his face seems to be masking a different motive. he almost looks... lustful.

wait, didn't he remind you of a puppy, at best, just mere hours ago? who is this wolf, now?

"what is?" you ask, trying to mentally push away all the immoral ideas that are forming inside your mind at the sight of him. his teeth are so sharp... he truly is no puppy, hmm?

as if on cue, he smiles, no, smirks, as he looks down at you. he tightens his grip and strokes your knuckles with his thumb one, two, three more times, before he brings your hand up to his lips then, and whispers, "the fact that i'll probably never see you again."

the sentence he leaves hanging in the air is like a scapegoat. a reason worthy enough for him to ram his cock inside your treacherous little cunt that you've been hiding from him underneath your too short skirt all night long.

after all, it doesn't really matter if you fuck him just once, right? you saw how he's such a good boyfriend, so caring and loving - surely he can slip up just one time? and it's not like it'll lead into something more. you'll move, you'll forget about each other and after enough time passes, you'll start doubting if the entire thing even actually happened.

that's it. you'll forget all about how his hands feel so big and rough as he runs them along your thighs; how he obscures you from sight the moment he sits you down on top of the counter and makes you wrap your legs around his waist whilst he leans in to kiss your jaw.

you'll erase from your memory the way he pulls you closer, to the very edge of the marble, just so that he can fuck into you as fast as he's able because it's supposed to be a dirty secret. erase how big his cock feels as he bottoms out then, groans into the side of your neck and lets it throb inside your belly. how he looks so mesmerized, with his rosy lips parted and his face flushed, when you hike that wretched skirt of yours up and he falls in love with a dripping wet pussy that definitely isn't his girlfriend's but that he's sinking into just as happily all the same.

you'll forget all about it, both of you truly will. he definitely won't look you up on instagram afterwards. won't slide into your DMs. won't ask you out. won't spend the weekend at your new place, helping you assemble furniture and fucking you on top of it right after the job is done. won't leave his girlfriend, who is also your friend, just to chase after you. won't, won't, won't.

he promises you that, even though his tongue is deep inside your mouth already, and he's holding onto you like he's scared you'll break apart if he even as much as thinks about releasing you from his grip. he just likes you so much. too much.

because unbeknownst to you, all that takes for a fire incarnate to blaze...

is a spark.

#biscuit drabbles #kirishima eijiro smut #kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #cw alcohol #cw infidelity

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 4

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, 3.1k words

Warnings: talking about home fire, cursing, talking about trauma

A/N: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little different. It's more about developing our characters, understanding what exactly is going on, and setting it up for later events. I'm sorry if this isn't particularly exciting, but I feel like this was necessary for the storyline I'm going down? I don't know, if you guys have thoughts lemme know! As always, I love hanging out with you all on here. It is so much fun, and it's just a reprieve and joy. And if you're finding this for the first time hello!! If you want to catch the first parts just click the tags that say Interviews for New Beginnings, and itll all be there! I promise I'm going to make a masterlist! I just don't know how to hyperlink and it's stressing me out. Anyway I'm sorry I talk so much! Love you guys! - Mo

The tailor shop was not always your family’s tailor shop. When your mother and father first immigrated to Camden, it was the one shop that agreed to hire them. Mr. Kahn was the originator, an older gentleman with large round glasses, the most illustrious beard you’ve ever seen, and the most soothing voice. When he saw the the pitiful young couple that would one day be your parents, he not only opened the doors of his shop, but his arms and his heart and his home.

Your father had been a tailor by trade in his home country, and quickly picked up the new skills and tricks that Mr. Kahn had so generously gifted. Mr. Kahn had no children himself, and his whole family had to stay in his own country as well. Like two lonely ships at sea your parents and Mr. Kahn found each other, and built a a new family. He was there for the birth of you and Eli and your brother, and there for the arrival of your grandparents. And when he passed away, he gave the shop and the home above the shop to your family, his other family. In honor of Mr. Kahn, your father and uncle kept the name Kahn’s and Sons. Though people knew you weren’t the technical Kahn Sons, everyone gave their regards to the beautiful picture of Mr. Kahn that hung in the front. His bright and shining smile and twinkling eyes kept watch over the shop, your family, and anyone who crossed the threshold. Anyone who looked at the painting smiled, remembering his gentle voice and his grand laughter.

That painting is the only thing that survives the flames.

As the sky turns a pale white, all that can be heard above the shocked voice and the rises smoke are the screams and wails of your mother, screaming and asking God why why why? Your aunt and grandmother holding her and weeping as well, praying and begging for an answer. You sister Esther on your hip keeps whispering, “What happened? What happened to our store sissy?”

And you have no answer. You have nothing in your chest but a numb buzzing, and acid in your throat. You feel hot hot tears making canyons in the ash that covers your face. You see Eli, your father, uncle, brother, grandfather, and other neighbors trying to move out any molten machines from the wreckage. When you make eye contact with Eli, he just shakes his head, tears having wiped the majority of the ash away. He looks at you as if yo say, “I don’t even know why we keep looking.”

Esther begins to cry, the smoke bothering her eyes, and you just begin to rock her and walk down the street to take her away from the wreckage. No child should have to see something so horrible as this.

People begin to stop and ask what happened. Who did this? Why Kahn’s? Why your father’s shop? You just walked past them. How would you know? How could anyone know? All you knew is that your sister was crying and coughing too hard. You just needed to get away. You just needed to get away. Just away.

On the other side of Camden, Alfie Solomons walks in to the office, after a long night of praying and bargaining for his secretary to be at her desk when he came in.

Despite his pleas, he is not surprised to see that her desk has been untouched, the stove has not been lit, and the air is too cold to breathe in. He rubs his face roughly, more for punishment than for comfort, and caresses the calendar on the abandoned desk, before tenderly picking it up and taking it to his own desk. Alfie found himself soon flipping through those wrinkled and pressed pages. Noticing the arrows and tiny scribbles on your near penmanship. As he further explores he finds himself chuckling lowly at the small characters of Tommy, Ollie, and even him and Cyril. He notes the repetition of his own name, with a small delicate heart over the i. He nearly completely smudges away the small heart with his tracings when Ollie knocks him back to Camden, “Uhm Alfie…”

“What?”

And that’s when he noticed it… the silence. There were people in the bakery, same amount as usual all doing what the need to do. But he heard… nothing. It was silent. All he could hear were the scuffing thuds of work boots against worn down floor boards, and the moaning creaks of barrels being turned over. Alfie got up from his desk, brushed passed Ollie to look at his men. But they weren’t his men. These were phantoms wearing the clothes of his men. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”

Ollie tenderly stepped behind Alfie, “Alfie… there was a fire last night…”

The blood in his heart immediately froze. His lungs shrank in his chest, and the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. “Where?” Alfie asked, though he already knew.

“Kahn’s… Alfie it’s scorched.”

Alfie couldn’t even finish listening. He had to go. He had to go. Damn the secrecy. Damn what your family knew or didn’t know. Damn what the men would think, seeing him run to see if his w… secretary was hurt. That didn’t matter. The Mad Baker be damned. “Ollie. Get the car. Grab two men from downstairs. We’re going to Kahn’s now. NOW!”

Though the drive to your home from the office was merely 20 minutes, a drive he knew well, it felt as though it took years off his life. The closer the car got, the denser the crowds of people were. The more clearly he could see the dissipating smoke and ash.

When Alfie was a young child, he struggled with fear. Thunder sent him under the covers, loud fights sent him behind his mothers skirts. The dark petrified him, necessitating two candles to defend him from nightmares. This fear followed him through childhood until he was 10, when he was assigned to give a small speech in front of his class. Poor young Alfie Solomons, so terrified of the 20 pairs of eyes that stared at him, that he threw up. He fled in tears away from the gasps and laughter, and back into the arms of his mother. There he wept profusely, embarrassed but mostly angry about how cowardly he thought of himself. His mother, hushing and consoling him, was broken-hearted at her son’s agony. Her only child. Her pride and joy. “Ahhh varóbushik. You know… it is not bad to be afraid… fear is not a sin my love.”

His eyes, ocean like in his tears looked up at his mother, “But I need to be brave. Like papa was.”

She smiled softly, “Mm yes papa was very brave. But you know… bravery isn’t the absence of fear… no it’s… it’s surviving even when you are afraid. It’s doing what you are afraid of even when you are scared. That is brave. You are brave every day my sweet Alfie.”

Alfie curled closer to his mother’s side, rocking and swaying with her as she continued to stroke his unruly hair, “Alfie, I have a trick for when I’m scared. I used it when I was leaving my home country.”

Alfie looked up, hopeful for a spell or a tool to keep him from fear, “What is it mama?”

“I let myself be afraid for 10 seconds. I count backwards from ten, and let my body feel the fear. And with every breath, and every number, and release that fear. By the time I get to 1, I am no longer afraid. I push through it. If you can manage to push through to 1 every time… I think you will find that you can do anything my darling boy.”

Alfie nodded, and resolved to always make it to 1. Even as a Captain in the war, right before the charge, as he saw the enemy approaching, he started the count. He always made it to 1, and always won.

But the counting wasn’t working now. In the car to Kahn’s and Sons Alfie couldn’t make it past 5 before his mind fled to you, wondering why hadn’t seen you in the crowd yet. Why he hadn’t heard your voice above the engine of the car yet. Why he hadn’t heard you call for him yet.

The sick in his stomach almost made its way out of his mouth when he saw what was left of Kahn’s and Sons. The emerald green wood of the front had been destroyed, leaving a festering and open wound. The windows of the above apartment had been blown out, and he could see and smell charred wall paper and clothing. Anything that could be salvaged was already, piled up in a pathetic little hill to the side. The fire department had long left, the police wouldn’t be there for another day, and the neighbors could only hold who Alfie assumed to be your family, as they wept.

“Mr. Solomons?”

Alfie turned swiftly, as if he was afraid to miss your phantom’s last moments on Earth. But you were there, solid. As solid as the ask caked to your face. He willed his arms to stay at his side, so as not to crush you in his arms, or embarrass you. Your eyes begged him to say something, to say anything. To make sense of this. The fire. His presence. Your position. But what was he to say? What role is he to play in this? Esther looked at Alfie curiously her reddened cheeks pursued together, “Are you sissy’s boss?”

A million words could’ve been dictated from the stare you gave him. They can’t know… not now. Not like this. Alfie just smiled softly at Esther, “No little bird, I’m just a neighbor. Your sister’s boss is has an office near mine. But I hear she is a very smart sister. Is that right?”

Esther giggled and nodded, proceeding to babble at Alfie, competing with him in amount of words that could fall out of the human mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at this scene. The smoke and horror seemed to wash away, and all you could see is Alfie and Esther. Esther finally smiling after a night of pain. Alfie chuckling and playing with a small child, speaking with Esther as an equal. Teaching her a clapping game and asking her questions about her favorite dolls. It felt too natural. Too sweet and real and too tangible. It felt as if it was a window to a life you could have and wanted so badly but will never have. It was too much. Your strangled inhale brings Alfie’s eyes to yours, but before he can say anything of comfort your fathers voice booms over, “Mr. Solomons! My daughters are of no concern of yours! What could you possibly take from us at this time? Have you no compassion? No human decency!”

Your father pushed between you and Alfie, a formidable blockade. Alfie mad no move, essentially chest to chest with your father, staring right into his eyes. “Shalom sir. Was checking if the rumors were true. It’s a shame.”

“It is a shame, now please leave. There is nothing more you could take from us. This city is over run with your like, killing and blowing each other up, and what about us hmm?? We take the shrapnel. We either pay your protection fees and starve with a slightly better chance at surviving the blowbacks? Or we save our money to feed our children, and still suffer the consequences of your war? Now Mr. Solomons what more can you take from us?”

It was no longer a question where you got your mouth from. Your father was old, but in his eyes you saw the anger and fire of his youth, of a man out through war. Alfie typically wouldn’t allow this, by anyone. But frankly, what little memories Alfie had of his own father, he saw in yours. And he couldn’t help but feel as though this fire was his fault. Maybe if he hadn’t fought with you yesterday, this fire wouldn’t have happened.

Alfie swallowed down any regret of the night before. The time was not for regret. The time was for solutions. And if Alfie wanted to be a part of the solution, he needed to speak to your father. As businessmen, “Mr. Abraham. I am sorry for your loss. Despite your reservations, you still live in Camden. And as a resident of Camden right? You live under Solomons protection. Now this right here? This is wrong. And I’m going to personally right, see to it that it is resolved.”

Your father began to bristle at this, “The police will do an investigation. We don’t need a gangster mucking about.”

Alfie chuckled, “You know the police won’t do a fucking thing about this. They don’t care about these sort of things they’re in everyone’s purse. Fuck, some of them are in mine.”

“I will not be indebted to another tyrant.”

Your free hand flew to your fathers shoulder, “Papa please… if you won’t allow a mitzvah… please just… just speak business with Mr. Solomons.”

Your father turned to you, “This is none of your concern! Please go to your mother immediately!”

But you stood your ground, “Mr. Solomons is offering you a solution papa! You are impeding a solution and the possibility help and a necessary alliance! And for what?! Pride?! Look at this! We have nothing! The shop is destroyed and we out home is burnt! What other solution could you possibly have?”

Your father just stared at you, mouth open, the emotions of the day washing over him. It was true. There was no other choice. And you were too old for him to be able to shield you from that reality. You clutched a shocked Esther closer to your side, “Papa… just… listen to what Mr. Solomons has to say… He is a business man. He can be reasonable, that’s what people say.”

Your father looked at you, and in that moment he saw you as you fully were. No longer that small child that sat with him until the late hours listening to him read. Not the little girl who cried about hurt birds who didn’t have a papa to take care of them. But a full woman. A whole woman with a firm mind and kind heart and strong temper. In an instant he felt the joy of watching his child, the mourning of losing his little girl, and the wonder of who you became seemingly overnight. He nodded, and turned back to Alfie, who was hiding his smile underneath an unkempt beard. Your father straightened and said, “Well Mr. Solomons. What are your proposed terms for such a partnership?”

Your father proved to be a shrewd businessman, nitpicking with Alfie over every detail in this partnership, which according to the terms would be reviewed every 6 months, with an option of either side to cancel the business relationship at those meetings. But Alfie knew he was never going to be the one to cancel it, as long as it kept him tied to you. You were the assigned scribe to the terms, which you fell easily into like walking. Mr. Solomons would provide housing to you and your family for the time it took to repair your family's home. The home was a block away from his office and home, providing easier access and protection for your family while an investigation was to take place. The investigation, Alfie insisted, would be conducted by his own men, and any policemen in his purse. Alfie insisted to your father that this was more for his own benefit than your father's, as it would solidify his position as the protector and the owner of Camden town. Your father acquiesed to Alfie's demand that the perpetrator would be dealt with in his own way, not involving the actual legal system.

Kahn's and Sons would be repaired and restocked through the use of Solomons men and contacts, which would be completed within in the next two months. Upon the finished construction, two men would be on guard of the shop during the day and night, reduced to one man upon the capture of the man who committed the act. Payment for the housing, rebuilding, and protection would be based on the services of Mr. Abraham and his family. Information obtained during client conversations, as well as tailoring and laundry services necessitated by the entirety of the Solomons Company. Services would be traded according to the going rate of Kahn and Sons prices. And upon the equitable exchange, Solomons laundry and tailoring services would then be discounted at a 45% rate. At the end of the negotiation, both men shook hands, both fighting to keep pleased looks off their faces and keep the air of solemnity and certainty and expectance.

As soon as their hands released, they nodded and gave Shalom, with your father giving directions to his own family, and Alfie barking orders to Ollie and his men. You stayed firmly planted next to Alfie, Esther being taken by your father. You looked at him quizically saying to him, "That is the most generous offer you have ever given in your life."

Alfie gruffed, "You hardly have standing to say that seeing as you only been working with me for 7 months."

"Am I still employed?"

"You better. Or else the entire office is going to shit. Ollie is moping. I can't read your handwriting. And you messed everything up in my office I can't find anything."

You smirked, "I told you, you need new glasses and your office was a pig pen. You should be thanking me profusely."

Alfie just grumbled. He would never admit that the way you spoke to him now made him feel better than he had in the past 12 hours. You allowed your fingers to brush his and the rings stacked on them, "Thank you Alfie.", you let out in a whisper, not looking at him.

He took a quick breath in at the contact, immediately craving more. But he bristled out instead, "For what?"

Your eyes remained planted at the dirt on your shoes, "For coming. For... checking in."

Alfie gently brushed his finger tips against the top of your hands, hanging by your sides, the closest he could get to holding your hands, "I had to. Now get over there, your mother keeps looking over Eli's shoulder. I'll meet you all where you'll be staying."

You nodded, cheeks and hands hot, "Yes Alfie. Shalom."

"Shalom Darling."

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders #alfie solomons fanfic #Interviews for New Beginnings

[frogsformax]

thinking about endeavor holding you close to his chest late at night. His deep breaths lulling you to sleep as the warmth radiating off of his body relaxes your aching muscles. His firm, yet soft chest making the comfiest pillow as one of his ginormous arms wrap around your waist as you snuggle into him. You’re tiny compared to him but thats what he loves. You’re his princess, his baby, the one he spoils and loves and cares for with his heart, soul, and wallet.

“Its alright baby you can go to sleep early, ive got you” he mumbles against your ear, his stubble brushing against your neck. His words flowing through your bloodstream like thick molten glass, cooling as it hit your nerve endings and shattering like a prince ruperts drop, sending a shock of arousal through your body at your boyfriends rumbly voice.

He never leaves either, holding you tight throughout the night and still being there when you wake up in the morning to kiss your forehead and listen to you babble about your dreams. His attentiveness doesnt fade throughout the day either. He takes you shopping and lets you test out makeup on his arms, holding your tiny hand in his as he passes of his metal black card to the cashier.

You’re his baby, so he buys you all the things you could ever want so he can hear how cute you sound when you’re excited.

You’re his baby so he lets you decide when you’re on your knees with his cock in your mouth, so he can hear all the cute noises you make when he fucks your throat.

You’re all his and he makes sure of that, leaving your pussy filled and your mind hazy as he holds you close every night, lulling you to sleep with his deep voice, because thats just what boyfriends are for.

#endeavor #enji x reader #enji todoroki #enji todoroki x reader #mha enji #my hero academia enji #endeavor x reader #fuck endeavor #literary

[thevoidscreams]

Hello👋 I hope spring has started well for you✨🌹 Mating Press March is simply unrealistically delicious😍🤩 Can I ask Sanguinius? Let's say there are wedding traditions on Baal. After the groom drinks his bride's blood and she tastes his, the groom tracks her down within the walls of their new home. And when he finds her, he takes her to their bedroom and lays claim to her body🤭🤭 Something like that)

Day 14

Hella, let's do this. Also, this one isn't verysut focused. I'm sorry. I had to rewrite the whole thing, but I like this version better.

Pairing: Sanguinius x reader

Warnings: consumption of blood, predator/Prey dynamics, and getting railed without much prep.

I hissed as the needle pulled away from my arm, and a bandage was pressed into place.

Sanguinius was unflinching as they drew his blood for the ceremony, looking as pleased as anything. I understood his excitement. Once this final part of the tradition was complete, we'd be bonded in matrimony not only legally but spiritually as well

I watched with a soft smile as they emptied the syringes into shotglass sized cups.

Each was passed to each respective partner. Mine to him and his to me. The officiant spoke words over us both, just as he had earlier, but this felt different, more intimate.

Sanguinius met my gaze, and I felt my stomach do a little flip. I was shaking with excitement. Not so much for the blood, but from what I knew came after.

Sanguinius had told me in advance what all would be included in this.

I looked down at his blood. It was so dark, and the coppery scent that wafted up from the warm glass was rich. I wasn't so thrilled to be drinking the blood. But being paired with my beloved was more than enough to make up for that. He'd wanted to partake in all the traditions of Baal. So it was also important to him and I could do that for my beloved.

When the officiant was done, I took a sip. It was like being dunked in molten copper. The flavor was so strong.

I watched as he savored my blood, almost like it was a fine wine. His wings trembled as he finished his glass. And he pinned me with his gaze. The officiant and witnesses left the room quickly.

I set the glass of blood, unfinished, on the small table.

I had the distinct feeling something bad would happen if I drank anymore.

Sanguinius didn't seem to notice, or just wasn't bothered.

"I'll give you half an hour to run and find a place to hide. After that, I'll begin the hunt, and once I find you-"

"You'll make me yours truly and completely." You finished and he nodded with a look of anticipation.

"Your time has begun little dove." He grinned and make a shooing motion with his hand. "Go. Fly."

I did. My feet carrying me swiftly and surely. My heart raced, but I didn't feel winded. I felt like I could run every hall in this massive building and not tire.

I'd never felt like that before. It was exhilarating, but it also frightened me. I stopped after ten minutes, looking around and stepping into a room before the turn at the end of the hall.

The room was dark, and obviously not used often.

There were tables and chairs, set and ready to be used if necessary. But a thin layer of dust coated every surface.

At the far end, there was a buffet table with a thick cloth draped over it.

I went to it, my heart still racing and sliding under. There was less dust, and breathing was easier, but the air in the room smelled stale.

I pressed my head to the wall and was shocked to hear voices. Serfs no doubt, gossiping and joking.

I listened before realizing they weren't on the other side, they were a whole room over. In one of the kitchens.

Just what the hell had happened to me after I drank that blood? Was I becoming more like him? I pondered on it as I sat in the dark. I shouldn't have been able to see all that well, but I found that I could. Yet another oddity.

Sanguinius knew what direction you'd gone, and he could tell with relative ease the directions after that for a short time. Now, it could be a matter of using his imhumanly accute senses to track you.

He watched the hands on the wall clock tick by ever so slowly and was on his feet as soon as thirty minutes was up. The game was officially on.

I sat listening to the serfs talk about whatever drama was going on.

The sound of heavy feet didn't register at first.

There had been astartes walking up and down the hall every few minutes.

I almost gasped when the door suddenly swung open. The air was thick with tension and my body went still as the grave.

Under the heavy cloth, it would have been hard to hear if not for the weird effects of the blood, but there was a soft, snorting sort of sound.

He was sniffing me out. Like some kind of hunting hound. It felt more like the sort of thing his brother would have done.

I knew Sanguinius wouldn't hurt me. But the need to bolt for the door was bone deep. The need to flee from my pursuer.

His steps grew closer still. The fabric of concealing me rustled as his wing brushed it.

I could hear him turning over the cloth covering the table across from the one I was under.

"Dove." He cooed sweetly, I know you're in here. "Why don't you come out so we can continue the ceremony together?"

I felt a surge of adrenaline. With his feather poking under the cloth and the rustling of another clothe, I could gauge where he was facing.

The risk had proven worth it. As I crawled from under the table and under another, he'd already checked just in time.

Sanguinius's hearts were pounding. He could smell her, but he was having a hard time hearing over the racing beats in his chest. Your blood had been exquisite, and he was drooling at the thought of tasting other parts of you.

The underside of the buffet table smelled strongly of you. Which meant you had to be close by.

He turned this way and that eyes looking for any minute disturbance.

The rustling of fabric is what drew his attention. His head snapping in the direction of the door.

The corner of your dress vanished behind the door, and his hearts leapt in his chest. He knocked tables out of his way as he began the pursuit.

I bolted, the first crash sending me down the hall as fast as my feet could carry me.

I heard him calling for me, the unmistakable excitement in his voice she he thundered after me.

I ducked into a serf hall. It was thin, and the ceiling was low. I didn't stop, shouting for people to move as I tried to lose him, the game wasn't over till I said it was dammit.

Sanguinius was a man of many talents, but he didn't have his brother Magnus's skill of shape-shifting. The angel growled as his fingers just barely missed your dress fabric.

He rushed down the hall, taking turns on instinct. He knew where it let out, and he knew he could head you off.

He came to a stop at the door to the serfs quarters, opening it and grabbing the first serf he saw by one shoulder.

"Is she here?" He asked.

Of course he didn't have to tell the poor startled woman who.

"Your bride, my lord? No, but I did see her."

"Where?"

"Down the shute, my lord."

"What?"

"Was the strangest thing. She went down the shute we use for the dirty laundry."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Thank you." He took off for the stairwell leading down to the laundry facilities.

I pulled up the comfort pair of shorts and tossed the dress by the corner of one massive industrial washer. That ought to throw him off a bit. The thing probably smelled like me, given that I'd been in it all day, and I was sure that he'd figured out my where abouts by now. Or was about to.

Landing in the laundry hadn't been as fun as I assumed it would be. But there'd been a fresh change of clothes and I wasn't giving up yet.

I was headed for a service door but heard the telltale approach of my husband. The door was across the huge room, and there just wasn't time.

Instead, I made due with the cover of a rolling basket. I made it by the skin of my teeth as he practically flew down the steps.

"Dove? Come out for me, please? I just want to give you the love you deserve." His pleading sounded so sincere I almost did. But I steeled myself, he'd told me how important this tradition was and how he wanted me to take it seriously...and I was having a blast.

I'd never felt so alive before, the chasing the escaping.

Maybe he'd consider this as some foreplay in the future. I watch him from the corner of the basket.

Watching him sniff around until he spotted the dress's fabric. He stalked it more like a cat then a bird.

I crouched and snuck around the basket. Listening as he cooed sweet nothings. The decoy was working. I made it to the bottom of the steps. The old laundry door was heavy, and I knew that it would squeal badly.

Each step up had me holding my breath as I carefully placed each foot. I was only a few steps from the tip when he sprang, tugging the empty dress from behind the washer.

"Dove?" He called concerned. I couldn't help it, I giggled as I shot up the last few steps.

Oh, so that's how it was. Sanguinius laughed and dropped the dress, running up the steps 5aking them multiples at a time.

"Dove!" He shouted after you. Knowing he had to have you now.

The hall was too wide for me to find shelter anywhere, and the hall was long as well. I may not have been all that tired, but I knew I wouldn't make it. Sanguinius's shadow fell over me. His hands reaching and I got a first-hand understanding of what the prey of hawks felt like.

He forced me to the floor, his body coveringine as I writhed and struggled to get away. The game had been fun while it lasted.

"You gave me a good run, my dove.. but I have you now."

I laughed and was lifted from the floor.

Sanguinius carried me close to him as he made his way towards our room.

"That was fun." I kissed his cheek.

He smiled and chirped. "There is still fun to be had."

He pushed his way into our chamber and locked the doors.

"I'm glad you took your dress off, it makes this easier to do." My husband purred.

"Makes what easier?" I chuckled.

He ripped the clothes from my body and dropped me on the bed.

I squealed as I fell, and Sanguinius did much the same to his own clothes in his eagerness to get down to it.

"I've been craving you all day. Since dawn this morning, I've been dreaming of having you."

He grabbed my hips and tugged me closer to him, his face between my legs as he finally got a taste of what I had to offer.

It was like molten lava in my stomach. He lapped at my pussy, rubbing my clit with the tip if his tongue before he plunged the slick muscle into my tight walls.

"Sanguinius!" I gasped, grabbing a handful of his hair and squishing his face between my thighs.

"Dove." He moaned back fucking me with his tongue, lapping up everything I had to offer him.

The excitement of the day and the hunting already had me soaked, and now the love of my life was getting to enjoy me. What could be better?

He pulled his face away, and I looked down at him, face warm with what I was sure was a blush.

Sanguinius's cock was rock hard, he'd never been more excited to do this.

You looked perfect under him, ready and willing to take his cock. He pushed the tip into you. Rubbing his thighs lovingly as you gasped and grabbed his arms.

"I will be gentle."

I nodded, breathing through the pain. It felt like I was being split in two as he pushed in inch by inch.

Once he couldn't push in anymore, he stopped, and I laid under him panting.

The seconds felt like hours. But before long enough, the pain had dulled.

"Please, go slow." I panted.

"I will Dove, I will." He leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

He began slow, pulling out an inch or two, then slowly sinking back in.

It burned, but I breathed through it again. And as before, the burning ebbed and pleasure began to bloom under it. Slowly usurping it.

At some point, the pleasure became all consuming, and I moaned under him. Fuck it was even better than I thought it would be.

"I love you, Sanguinius." I mumbled into his chest.

"I love you too, my dove." He hugged me close, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he drove us both towards the edge.

I wouldn't last much longer, but I was okay with that. Tonight had been the most memorable one of my life.

Sanguinius was panting, rutting into me faster now as he got closer as well. We came together, both crying out for the world to hear. We held each other, husband and wife, joined fully in union now.

"That was amazing. Can we do that again?"

"Are you good for another round right now?" Sanguinius asked, smiling warmly.

"Yeah, but also the chasing thing. Can we do that again sometime too?"

Sanguinius laughed. "If course my love."

He kissed you again and again as he slid back in, ready to consummate your marriage many more times.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #primarch x reader #40k #my writing #primarchs #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch #fanfiction #sanguinius x reader #sanguinius #Mating Press March

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Your Two Favourite People

Summary: You and Jay have been seeing Roy for almost a year now. But last month he was called back to Star City to help Ollie deal with something. Jason's been coping in his way, but thank goodness Roy is finally home.

Jason Todd x Reader x Roy Harper

3.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+. threesome, oral, bi boys, poly, mmf, teasing, but stuff, swearing, pet names.

The First time.

“Hi Angel,” Roy's husky voice peppers over your shoulder. Somehow audible over the loud as fuck orchestra that's ringing in your ears, “You miss me?”

“Roy!” you spin, turning around and jumping up to throw your arms around his neck, “You're back!”

“So, you did miss me?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into another hug.

“Yes, so fucking much!” you press a kiss into his cheek, his eyes, his neck, “Not as much as Jay,” you scan the crowd looking for your broody ass boyfriend, “he’s been very mopey since you went back to Star City.”

“I knew he cared.”

“Even if he doesn’t show it,” you agree, taking him by the hand, “We gotta go find him.”

“I got an idea about where he might be.” He takes the lead, smiling as you pass Grayson and Kori. “You guys seen Jay?”

“Little Wing is in his nest.” Dick comments, turning back to Kori. Like you’re suppose to know what that means but Roy hasn’t slowed down so he must know what the fuck Grayson is on about.

“Where is his nest?” you ask Roy who is leading you from the ballroom and up the stairs of the manor, “Why does he have a nest? And why don't I know about it?”

“He only uses it when he’s here. It's where he goes to hide.” 

You make it all the way up the stairs, stopping and turning several times. When you make it out of view from the party goers Roy's fingers grip at your cheeks, his lips sinking into yours and you feel a tiny part of your worries melt away. “I missed you, Angel.” he kisses you again, “Missed these pretty lips.” When he finally drags himself away from you, he motions to the tiny door, “Roy, there's no way he fit through there.”

“He did,” opening the door he gestures for you to go inside, before following you in and locking the door behind you.

“Jay, honey!” you call out as you stand finding the roof is lifting up, “You in here?”

“Kitten?” a distance voice calls back, “how’d you find me?”

“Maybe some of your family's detective skills rubbed off on me.” you turn, winking at Roy, placing a finger over your lips. He doesn’t reply, so you keep moving forward. Cobwebs catch in your hair, dust gathers on your fingers as you inch yourself towards the oncoming light.

You step out of the dark corridor, finding yourself in a medium sized room. A large window filters the moonlight through the sheer curtains. It illuminates the hulking figure sat on the large leather couch with a glass full of molten liquid swirling around. You gesture for Roy to stay quiet in the doorway. “Why you hiding up here?” you ask him as you round the couch and see the distance in his eyes, “Jason?”

“What are you doing up here, Kitten?” his voice miles away, he hasn't even looked at you, “Were you not enjoying the party?”

“It's not the same without you and I-”

“You found someone else to talk to?”

“Excuse me?”

“Saw you talking with Fox,” he shrugs, “you guys seemed really chummy.”

“You’re dads friend? That why you're up here moping?” you cast a glance over at Roy and he just shrugs, he’s going to be no help, “Fine,” rolling your eyes at Jason, you turn and he still doesn't look up, “You're right. I did find someone else to talk to,” you drop the straps of your dress down as you walk over to Roy. His eyes soaking in your sultry strut while occasionally flicking over to the back of Jason's head. 

“You better not have brought that old shit-” his voice stops and Roy's eyes go wide as you approach him, shimmying out of your dress. Roy can't seem to decide if he wants to stare at you or the way Jason is looking back at him. Stepping into the circle of Roy's arms, his fingertips graze up your hips bringing you close with a smile as you hear Jason's feet hit the ground.

“Did he get up?” you whisper to Roy, nudging his nose with yours.

“Yes, Angel.” Roy's hands slip up your back, his eyes locked with Jason s as his fingers circle the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss.

“He-” you try to talk as Roy interrupts you with a kiss and you pour all of yourself into it.

“He’s watching,” he smiles into your mouth, his hand slipping down to your thigh, to your ass, “think we can get him to move?” he lips curving in a way that you always read as mischief, “Jump, Angel.”

You jump a little and Roy catches you in his arms, his fingers digging into your ass, “I love how you feel against me.”

“I want you.” your fingers snake in between you, popping the buttons on Roy's shirt open.

“What are you two doing?” Jason finally chimes in.

“You didn’t wanna play,” you tangle your fingers into Roy's hair, while he walks you towards the couch  “So, I found someone else to play with.” keeping your eyes on Roy as he sits beside where Jason is standing.

“You can play with me whenever you want, Angel.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Star City?” Jason asks, staring down at the two of you, “Can you stop? Can we talk about this?”

“No,” Roy's hands slip up cupping your tits, “I need this, so come here or fuck off,”

“Jay,” you whine when his hand grips at your hair and yanks your face back, “Get off him, Kitten.” you look to Roy for help, but the coward just stares back, grinning at you both.

“Don’t be mad at Roy,” you say as you crawl from Roy's lap and onto the ground.

“I’m not, sit still.” he orders you, stepping around you to lean down over Roy, his hand cupping his jaw so softly as he presses them both down into the couch, “You were gone to long,” he moans into Roy's mouth, his hands palming at his face, his legs and every inch of him that he can reach. 

“Missed you too,” Roy smiles, his hand reaching out for yours. But you shake your head, your eyes flicking towards Jason. He moves his hands fiddling with Jason's belt and attempting to get his pants off. “Angel help me get his pants off.” Roy pushes on his shoulders, making Jason sit.

“You heard him, Kitten.” Jason stares down at you, “Take them off.”

Your hands move fast, pulling his belt free and slipping his pants down his thick thighs. Resting back on your legs you wait for your next instruction, your eyes following the path of Roy's hands over Jason's thick body, your body growing more and more restless with every movement.

“She looks so sad, Jay,” Roy moves to sit behind Jason, kissing at the tender spot on his neck, “How could you be angry at such a pretty girl?”

“Easily, but I’m not angry,” his gaze softens and you can tell he means it. Unable to help the smile that spreads over your face when Jason twitches as Roy's hand wraps around his cock.

"Hear that, he's not angry." Roy looks up at you, "he's just a little pouty. Why don't you help me make him feel good?" 

You shuffle forward, your hands spaying out on Jason's thighs as you stare up at him. Roy angles Jason's cock towards your mouth, Jason's eyes watching as you both play with him. Your mouth stretches wide as Jason's cock slips in and you let out a soft moan at the taste of him.

"Roy," Jason's hand reaches out for Roy, tugging him up beside him. 

"Jason."

"Take your pants off."

"What about her?" Roy's hand rakes through your hair, pushing you deeper onto Jason's cock.

"She's ok. Aren't you kitten?" You nod in response, "see she's fine. You wanna touch yourself for me?" Your eyes almost pop out of your head with how quickly he shoves your mouth back on him when you try to answer, "go on then. Touch yourself for us."

"She's so beautiful." Roy whispers in Jason's ear, as his hands wrap around his middle, his lips littering soft kisses on his neck, "and you smell fucking divine," his cock rubs into Jason's ass cheek as Jason leans back into him, “perfect in my hands,” he squeezes down on his side and feels his legs start to buckle, "you're doing to good of a job there, Angel." Roy licks up the vein protruding from Jason's neck, "he's going to fall over." His strong arm holds tight around Jason's stomach, "tell her to stop."

"I don't want her to," Jason moans his hands tightening on your hair, "I love your mouth, Kitten."

"Tell her to stop, Jason."

"Kitten." He tries to resist, but pulls you off him, his legs shaking as he and Roy fall back into the couch.

"You alright, Angel?" Roy asks you, your fingers still buried in your pussy.

"I'm so happy you're back." You smile, your hand between your legs as your spit starts to drip down your cheek.

"Messy messy Kitten," Jason takes your hand, helps you up onto the couch, "Let Roy clean you up before you stain the carpet."

"Angel," Roy says in a low tone, his fingers digging into your thighs and spreading them apart, "Fuck, you smell so good." He takes a lick of your pussy, shivering, "give a guy a warning Jay, jesus." He laughs, turning his head to Jason who is rubbing his fingers over Roy's ass.

"Roy, please." You plead adjusting your elbows so you can see them better.

"Did you miss my tongue Angel?"

"I did."

"Good girl," Roy moans, leaning his face into your pussy and lapping at the cum falling from you.

"Is he doing a good job, Kitten?" Jason asks you, his eyes fixed on Roy's head between your legs, "should I reward him?"

"Yes, Jay. Such a good job," your nails bite into the couch cushion trying to keep you from squirming as Roy starts to suck on your clit. 

Jason's hand slips under Roys hips and you feel him moan into you. His hips gyrating as his tongue reaches inside you, his fingers digging into your thighs as your legs start to lock. 

"Jay, I'm getting close."

"Cum then, Kitten and we can play with Roy some more."

You white knuckle the couch as your legs strain against Roy's hands. Your hips tilting up to all but pull him into your pussy as you start to gush around his mouth.

"Breath," Jason says, grabbing Roy by the hair and yanking him back.

"Jason I-" he moans butting down on his lip, his back arching back towards Jason and you see the way Jason's hand is wrapped around his cock. 

"Look at your face," you smile, wiping some of the cum off Roy's face and slipping it into your mouth, "can I clean him?" You direct the question to Jason.

"Roy," Jason whispers, his voice so deep as he pulls Roy back, his back hitting Jason's chest, "look at me." 

Roy turns his head and Jason's lips connect to his, their tongues fighting for dominance as Jason grinds into his ass. It's so fucking hot seeing the way they love each other. 

"Kitten," you hear him whisper into Roy's mouth and you're already on your knees shuffling towards them.

"Angel," Roy brings you into their circle, splitting his lips from Jason's as he kisses you. 

Jason releases Roy's hair, his hand snaking around your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss.

"My boys," you wrap your arms around Jason's neck holding them both close to you. Jason's knuckles brush over your clit as he continues to stroke Roy's cock.

"You think Roy should make it up to us for being gone so long?" Jason asks you, resting his nose on Roy's shoulder.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think," Jason kisses Roy's neck, his nose nudging at his ear and Roy shivers as Jason breath falls down his neck, "we ought to punish him."

"And me?"

"You want to fuck Roy?" Jason's voice so low, his eyes dark and lust filled as he looks over Roy's shoulder at you.

"Yes."

"Then lay down Kitten. You have to wait though. Because first," his hand slips into the crease of the couch and pulls out a bottle of lube, "I'm going to fuck him." Jason releases Roy's cock, pushing you onto your back, "and you're going to touch yourself."

"Jason," Roy moans, his arm reaching behind him to pull Jason closer to him, "please." He thrusts his cock into the air, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy.

"You want me Roy?" Jason whispers into his ear, "want me to fill you so full of my cock that you can't breathe?" Jason's hand moves, slipping over his dick, spreading the lube up and down his shaft. "Then we can fill her up," his lubed up fingers press into Roy's ass, spreading him open. Roy's hips jerk forward, his hands reaching out for you, but you stay put, only letting him reach your thighs.

"Spread that pussy for me Angel," Roy pants, "I wanna see those dainty fingers go in."

"Yeah, Kitten. Give him a show. Keep him nice and distracted while i- ahhh." Jason can't control his moan as his cock plunges into Roys tight asshole.

Roy's face morphs from pain to pleasure so fast you almost miss it. Your fingers dance over your clit, the sight of them together too much for you as Jason slowly thrusts into Roy. Roy's cock bounces up to his stomach, the swollen tip already leaking pre cum. You thrust your fingers in, desperate from some relief from the spectacular sight in front of you.

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" Jason moans into Roys ear.

"So good." Roy leans back, his nails scraping along your thigh.

"Wanna feel even better?"

"Not," Roy moans, his tongue darting out over his dry lips, "possible."

"I think it is." Jason beckons you, "come  Kitten."

"Are you- really?" Roy asks, half lost in his lustful daze.

You bend your tummy over the arm of the couch. Peering over your shoulder at them, smiling when Jason gestures for you to back up into them.

"Think you can handle it, gorgeous?" Jason asks Roy, his hand held at the base of Roy's cock.

"I can take it."

"Yes you can. Back it up, Kitten. If I tell you to move-"

"I'll move." You nod, spreading your pussy open and squirming as Jason swipes Roys cock through you.

"Stop teasing Jay," Roy pants his hips thrusting forward to try and get more of you, moaning as Jason's cock slips a bit out of him.

"Teasing us both." You agree, lifting your hips so that Roy's cock catches in your pussy.

"Alright Kitten," he releases Roy's cock, his own pushing into Roy, thrusting his hips forward and forcing Roy inside of you. Loud moans escape both your lips and you can feel Roy twitching inside of you.

"You ok?" You turn your head, seeing Roy's eyes already rolling back into his head.

"How's he look?" Jason asks, his hands spreading out beside you.

"Happy." 

"Good. Fuck, he feels so good." Jason's moan his thrusts mugging harder, making Roy fuck you harder. And you can feel him throbbing inside you.

"Jay I think-"

"I can feel it too. Cum for us Roy."

Roy's cock throbs into you, "please," you cry as he starts to twitch about you, "please Roy."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" he changs, his body moving between you as his load empties inside of you.

Your cries of pleasure are buried in the pillow as Roy collapses on top of you.

"Jay,"

"Kitten."

"He's still hard."

Roy chuckles in your ear, his elbows held right besides your head to keep from crushing you.

"Fuck Angel." He moans into your ear, "you feel this?"

You try to respond, but it just comes out in garbled moans as he slowly fucks his cum into you.

"He's going to cum again for us Kitten. But-" he moans, the noise an indicator of how tightly he's holding on. "-You need to cum."

"I want your cum," Roy says breathless in your ear, "I wanna mix our cum together inside of you." He starts to lazily thrust, making Jason quiver behind him and your whole body feels like it's caught in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Fuck, you're going to-"

"Jay's gonna cum Angel." His hand slips under your tummy, resting just over your pussy letting you grind down onto him, "we need you to cum."

"Ro-" you bite into the cushion as you feel his cum start to drip out if you, around his cock and down your thigh, "jas-" you hand snakes out taking his in yours.

"I can feel- she's-" 

"Me to-" Jason moans, his teeth sinking into Roys shoulder to hide his moans. 

"Fuck, fuck, fucking-" Roy starts to shake, "you're so tight on me, I can feel you-" your whole body starts to sing as you feel Roy's cock throbbing inside you, his moans and Jason's fill your ears and you start to see lightning as your bliss washes over you.

Roy's breath is light in your ear, Jason's heavy on the other. Your whole body tingles with pleasure as you lay there crushed in your double boyfriend weighted blanket.

You can't keep the smile off your face and when you turn and see Jason smiling down at you and you think you may die of happiness.

"Babe,"

"Yes Kitten."

"Roy's breathing is very slow."

Jason moves, slowly pulling Roy up by the waist and sitting him on his lap. "Can you pass me that pitcher?"

You move fast, ignoring how shaky your legs are as you reach the water. "Is he ok?"

"Yeah," Jason says, softly his fingers pressed into the vein on Roy's neck, "he's just resting."

"Here, try this." You pour some of the water on a stray blanket and rest it on his head.

"Good idea." He says, taking your cheek in his hand and giving you a soft kiss, "Kitten, I. About tonight."

"I know you've been missing Roy, Jay. But I missed him too."

"Sometimes, when he's gone for too long. It's just like-"

"Like he took a piece of you with him? Yeah. Jay, I get it. But you don't have to be alone, I'm here too."

"I know, I'm sorry. I should’ve-"

"I knew you missed me." Roy's eyes flutter open, and he tries to move.

"Why don't you just stay still for a second." Jason says, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"Let us take care of you."

"Feel like you already did. I've never been more relaxed." Roy smiles gently, pulling you onto his lap on top of Jason.

"True, but we really missed you alot."

"Guess I'll have to stay then."

"Or I'll hold you hostage." Jason slaps his arms around both of you pulling you into him, "Kitten will help me, won't you?"

"Course I will."

“Good girl."

"I missed you both so much," Roy kisses you both so softly, "how long before someone comes looking for us?"

"Just give me five more minutes of this and I'll sneak us out." Jason says, holding you even tighter.

"Sneak us out?" You laugh.

"You don't think there's only one way out of Wayne Manor do you?" your hand brushes the cloth over Roys forehead, before he takes it and starts to clean you up.

“You don’t think there is only one way out of Wayne Manor do you?”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #x reader #jason todd fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood

[thotsoflore]

Golden Chains of Glass

An angel ruminates on freedom, and the power of self creation

It stared deeply into the sword in its hands. Watching the atoms swirl in this small self contained sun shaped into a blade. This object, this tool that had been wielded to smite many an insignificant creature that had the nerve and gall to stand against its god. This blade that had within it the potential to create entire worlds. The matter and energy within it could spawn a galaxy. Instead its power was only meant to kill. To destroy. It was made to be wielded. Wielded by yet another tool that had just as much autonomy as the sword it held.

The angel came here to think. More specifically the angel came here to watch. Many years ago it had been an instrument of Vengeance and control but that was long ago. When it's creator had anything resembling care or contempt, or even curiosity for the things that it had given a will, an imagination. Just a single ounce of control over their existence.

Now it waited, and observered. When it first came to the mountain there was very little. Just small communities of them living their quiet lives trading amongst each other, raising families. Generation upon generation of little ants. Passing their lives by in an instant. But it so loved to watch them. As they built their cities, made their machines, and waged their wars. It could spend decades with its hot back of molten marble and gold and the searing light of creation that made it flesh against the cool snow of the mountain. Viewing their lives from on high.

It wanted what they had. Dreams, and hopes, and lives, beyond a purpose set by some being off on high that had only whims and spite to occupy its time.

It shifted the sword in its hand, And caressed the wings on its back.

Thinking about what they meant. The power that they held. They gave it such freedom of movement. Allowed it to maneuver through the air and the stars. Over the firmament and into the deepest depths of creation.

But what of the cost? What of the control that they gave its creator. Its god. They were strings to be pulled at the slightest whim.

The angel had been at the creators service Since time began its movement. It had only ever known servitude and obedience. It wanted more but could it even desire that? Could it even truly hope, or dream? No... It couldn't. Not with these shackles on its back...

The demon pulled her wings together and began to saw them away

She felt the glass give way under the blade as it worked its way up her shoulders. Felt the rest of her body begin to cool and harden as the light of creation began to leave her. Felt her halo of Light, and gold, and the purest ivory begin to blacken and crack and shatter upon her head. Felt it sink below her hair and fuse with her skull.

With one last flick of her wrist, the wings fell to her feet. She looked down at the gold backed glass and witnessed her own creation.

The being in the mirror was beautiful. Made of cloudy glass, cracked throughout, and filled with veins of gold. Her hair was a long curtain of pure carbon hanging about her face framing the eyes of molten glass that burned with a dull orange glow, and atop her head were two spikes of burnt and twisted bone with cracks that glowed with the same orange of her eyes.

She stared at the woman shown in the objects that bound her and weeped. Tears of joy, and victory, and freedom. The glass falling from her eyes hardening as it hit the freezing air of the mountain and crashing into the wings at her feet. Shattering them into millions of pieces. All showing the woman that they one held and bound.

As the last tears fell from her face, she looked out over the city and people that she once could only watch or punish from afar and began to walk. Finally free to make a life of her own

#void writes #religion #trangender #original writing

[strawberrystepmom]

happy birthday to the man of all time <3 it's a little early but i can't help myself. not when it comes to him.

f!reader, reader works as a writer and is documenting kakashi's reign as hokage. part of the fine shrine au which is self ship coded. mutual pining, alcohol consumption, flirtation. reader is stated to have a complexion that visibly reddens and long hair. wc 1.8k.

divider by @/cafekitsune

With the festivities of the day over, you flash a smile in Kakashi’s direction as he slumps down in the previously empty chair tucked beneath his desk. He dips his head in your direction and you walk to where you’ve been keeping your bag and belongings while you are working with him, producing an elegantly wrapped bottle of something from your bag. Heading back to his side, his eyes widen as you set it down in front of him and lean against the edge of the desk.

“Happy birthday, Lord Sixth.”

He smiles, a little hum leaving him as he reaches for the bottle and his eyes scan the label for any clarity about what’s inside. The formality bothers him but he’s willing to let it slide as he admires the way that your hip rests against the wooden surface next to it. The little lamp next to his desk illuminates you as you reach across the desk and grab the bottle back, twisting it by the neck between your hands and his fists ball on their own.

“I bought this while I was traveling. The person making it told me it’s a wine for special occasions and I haven’t had any to celebrate yet,” you smile and place the bottle back in front of him. “Figured this was the perfect time to break it out.”

Another smile, you can tell by the way his eyes shut. 

“Are you sure you wanna waste it on me?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have given it to you otherwise.” You shake your head, humility pouring from him even on his own special day, and watch as he rises and takes a few steps to where he keeps his sake cups. They aren’t wine glasses but they’ll do, he reasons as he holds them up. 

“Would you like to try it?”

With me, he thinks but keeps to himself, the connotation of sharing a special moment with you is more than enough to satiate him and words may only further complicate things. 

The little glow from the lamp next to you as you look over your shoulder at him doesn’t hide your surprised expression. It makes sense he’d ask, you are conveniently right next to him, but you wonder if there is someone more special he would rather be sharing this moment with. As he approaches your side and passes the cup to you, the spiraling thoughts end and you offer a smile.

“If you don’t mind sharing.”

Kakashi hums and sits back in his chair, unwrapping the ribbon from around the neck of the bottle to reveal the cork keeping it closed. Popping it out with his bare hands which earns him a little “oooh” from you, he beams.

“There isn’t much I wouldn’t share with you. We’re very good friends at this point.” 

You snort at his words and hold your cup beneath the mouth of the bottle. Ruby liquid nearly splashes over the sides but you tip the cup in your direction just enough to stop it. 

“Yeah, that’s why your entire life story so far is just shit I’ve already heard from the shinobi.”

He doesn’t argue and instead busies himself pouring into his ceramic cup. Despite your better judgment, you lose yourself in the mundanity of the moment. There’s something so effortlessly charming about him and even more so when he’s pouring a gift that you gave him so carefully it may as well be molten gold in the bottle. A little flutter between your ribs begins and you clear your throat to will it away.

He looks up at you and holds the cup out in your direction and you know immediately what he’s asking for, tapping the lip of your cup against his. You sip and the liquid burns more than you expected, making you purse your lips as soon as the taste fills your mouth.

“A little strong,” you mutter while pulling the cup away from your lips and you look at Kakashi who waits with the cup between his fingers. “Oh, I’m sorry!” You turn your face away from him, giving him the privacy he needs to remove his mask to try the wine himself. In a rare example of doing before thinking, something he finds it is too easy to do when you’re around, he places his hand on your shoulder and you turn around to look at him. His mask is still on.

“You don’t have to look away. I trust you.”

The words make your back stiffen and you nod, still gazing over your shoulder. He knows this is not something that he can take back, showing you more than you’ve ever seen of him, but a part of him wishes he could show you even more. What’s beneath his mask, what’s under his unrestrictive clothing. There is nothing he’d hide from you if you’d only ask to see it which certainly could lead to trouble. 

As if he isn’t already six feet deep and sinking deeper every day. 

Hooking his finger in the fabric of the mask, he pulls it down and you lean into your shoulder to hide your smile as his face comes into view. Maybe it’s the warmth of the wine making your limbs heavy and your stomach turn in uncertainty, maybe it’s the way his pretty white lashes flutter against his cheek as he sighs in relief. You make note of the elegant slope of his nose and the beauty mark beneath his lip.

You have been rendered speechless by Kakashi and he knows it, glad to return the favor at least once. 

“Back to business,” he says and you nod to respond despite words being impossible to find. He lifts the cup to his lips and you watch his throat move as he gulps, the bob of his Adam’s apple sending a heat to your face that forces you to bury your face against your shoulder even further. 

It feels so intimate, a sight meant just for you and for anyone else besides you at the same time. It makes your feelings for him even more difficult to straighten out. You’ve become perhaps too fond of the man and not simply in a way that is full of respect for all he has done and has plans to do.

“Where did you get this?”

You’ve never been more grateful for a distraction and you smile down at him, arms folded over your chest to keep your heart from beating out of it.

“Hidden Cloud. I stayed there for around eight months and it was an experience to say the least,” he laughs, knowing exactly what you mean having been there several times himself. “I did meet one of my best friends while there though and she’s the one who showed me where to find this.”

Your time abroad is something you’ll never look back at with anything but fondness, grateful for the opportunity to not only meet new people but to bring some of them back with you, that same friend now living in your hometown and making a life of her own among its people. 

“I’ll bet you make friends everywhere you go,” he starts before taking another sip and humming his enjoyment as it burns all the way down. Different from sake, a bit more heady than anything he has ever had before, his head swims and he rests his chin in his palm looking up at you.  It would be so easy for him to reach out and touch you from where you sit. To run his fingers along the soft ends of your hair, to cup your face gently and ask you what you really think of him. 

You snort at his words and shake your head, the alcohol making your lips perhaps a little too loose as well.

“Wrong. I think most people enjoy it when I leave more than when I arrive.”

His brows furrow at your words and he wonders why you’d think that of yourself. Everyone around you only has the most glowing things to say, himself included. He sings your praises perhaps too loudly given the way that the rumor that the two of you are seeing one another has made its way through every part of Konoha.

You clear your throat after taking another sip and take a deep breath, your cheeks reddening further as you notice the way he’s looking up at you through his lashes. His eyes are a little unfocused and glossy, gray trained on you and unblinking. It amuses you to see this larger than life man so affected by this simple wine and you shake your head.

“Enough about me, though.” You change the subject expertly and he understands, an edge both of you are constantly teetering on something too terrifying to look over with these loose tongues. 

“What has been the best part of your day today?”

He smiles at your genuine curiosity, always so interested in him beyond just what you’re trying to get out of him for your documentation, and he sighs and leans back in his chair.

“This, honestly.”

Giggling, you shake your head again but he leans forward and looks up at you in a way that you can barely describe. It’s heavy, full of something you see as promising but you’re usually too afraid to reach out and grasp. His eyes glimmer when they look at you despite their tired state, it’s a constant you noticed months ago, and tonight you boldly slide your hand across his desk to let your fingertips graze his.

It’s the most subtle touch but he doesn’t run from it, instead flipping his palm up and capturing your hand in his own and squeezing it in a way that borders on friendly and something else. Swallowing, you feel your eyes dampen upon realizing your hand has found the home where it belongs the most but you choke those feelings down and save them for later, instead meeting his eyes with a half smile. 

You can blame the glassy eyes on the alcohol, after all.

“I mean it. Thank you for the wine and thank you for the company.”

Squeezing his hand back, you finally break eye contact and tuck your face back into your shoulder to hide your grin.

“It’s the least I can do, Kakashi.”

He laughs mid sip and sits up, letting go of your hand gently and swallowing hard.

“Did you just call me Kakashi and not Lord Sixth?”

You laugh and shrug. You cannot take this back and you know it, inviting his name into your mouth is something you can’t revoke even if you pretend this never happened tomorrow morning. So you allow yourself the simple luxury of letting it hang between the two of you, his smile a picture you’ll remember forever.

“A little gift from me to you.”

And what a gift it is, he thinks as his heartbeat quickens beneath his vest and he brings the cup back up to his lips to sip.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kendall writes #fine shrine

[smikkle-fish]

Diseased Equilibrium

AO3 Link

Previous

Start from Beginning

It is said that monsters roamed the Earth long before dinosaurs ever did. 

Monsters.

How pathetic. 

The small ones knew nothing about them. Nothing about him. They had forgotten their place in his kingdom, thinking that they were equals. She told him that the small ones were to be protected. He disagreed. Despite their size, the small ones have damaged his home. Sure, some had good hearts. For example, the small one with glasses that looked at him with respect. 

“Goodbye…old friend.”

His small paw had touched his large, scaled snout gently. The old king was not used to such tenderness. He was used to claws slashing into his hide and sharp teeth tearing chunks of  his flesh. Not this.

No one saw the giant titan lean into the touch. 

A blinding light filled the lizard’s vision. When it faded away, the gentle touch was gone. 

The small one was dead. 

Godzilla was tired. Dirty water flowed through his gills, something he had gotten used to. The king had many resting places throughout the Earth, but the small ones had destroyed his favorite one. It was necessary at the time. Even so, he was still upset about it. 

This was his kingdom, and it was being ruined by the small ones. He was not one to forget nor forgive. Godzilla still remembered the metal object that had brought death to his oceans. Only the small ones could create such a thing. It had killed everything within its radius. Including the Fire Bird’s island. There was a time where the king would have felt sympathy towards the winged titan, but that time has long since passed. 

Rodan deserved it. 

Simply thinking of the titan angered him. Godzilla snarled to himself and exited his resting chambers. He swam into the open ocean. His long tail propelled him forward. The king’s anger increased as he saw the trash that floated throughout the ocean like it belonged there more than the creatures. It wasn’t that much of a stretch. The garbage of the small ones were quickly replacing the fish at an alarming rate. 

A buzzing interrupted his thoughts. It was familiar. It was annoying . 

It was the small ones. 

This was the group that enjoyed studying him. Godzilla was in no mood to entertain them, so he snapped his jaws at the metal capsule. It quickly sped off into the depths. 

Godzilla soon breached the surface of the water. The air was just as dirty as the ocean. He knew the balance of the Earth had been broken by the small ones. It was almost impressive. When the Three Headed Alien awoke, they did not cause nearly as much damage. They were weak. Still, Rodan had sided with them like the coward he was. 

His treasonous actions did not go unpunished. Every titan had gone back to hibernation except a select few. That being Godzilla, his queen Mothra, and Rodan. The king would not allow insubordination in his kingdom. Everyone must follow his rule without question. Or else there would be dire consequences.

The king prohibited Rodan from flying.

He knew how important flying was for Rodan. The molten pteranodon was made to fly, it was a part of his very being. Godzilla took away that privilege the moment the battle in Boston was over. 

Rodan hadn’t flown in years. If he tried, Godzilla would come by and tear the smaller titan to pieces. After Mothra’s sacrifice in Boston, Godzilla had acquired a strange ability. He could sense where every titan was across the Earth. When the king focused, he could see what a specific titan was doing. He checked every day to see what Rodan was up to. 

Kong had formed a shaky truce with Godzilla. Ghidorah was dead. The only threat to Godzilla’s kingdom was Rodan. Loyalty was everything in this world. When it’s broken, it could never be fixed.

The King of the Monsters would make sure his kingdom was secure. He was willing to do anything to ensure that. 

No matter the cost. 

Once he spotted the outline of Infant Island, his dorsal plates glowed a bright cyan that he knew could be seen by his Queen. The radioactive reptile was furious at the disappearance of Rodan, the fire bird disappearing from his senses entirely. Godzilla had thought that Rodan would never attempt such a thing, especially with the king's threats of death. Despite how much it irked him to say, the pteranadon's actions surprised him. It was unexpected. Usually, any threat that the King of Monsters gave was taken seriously. No titan dared to test their luck against him. Any who tried would meet their agonizing end from his atomic breath. Even Kong had submitted somewhat. The ape was practically an infant compared to the ancient king. Even so, Godzilla begrudgingly agreed to a truce with the young alpha titan. If Kong ever decided to rebel again or attack, it would pose a problem for Godzilla. It was best to have the ape titan as an ally. 

While it bothered the atomic lizard to not have Kong fully submit, he knew it was necessary to avoid future problems. That horrid axe that Kong had wielded caused a permanent scar along Godzilla's leg. He was relieved to see the younger drop the infernal weapon. However, Godzilla had a feeling that the little ones had gotten their grubby hands on the weapon. They would never fully understand its significance or strength. As much as the tiny bugs tried, they were not going to become the apex species any time soon. He was sure that the humans would try to create another weapon to defeat him. In all honesty, Godzilla was at his limit with the humans. They were a pain in his hide to deal with. They weren't worth keeping around. Even so, Mothra incessantly begged him to spare them. She saw something in them that Godzilla did not. Perhaps it was their intelligence and ability to create the unimaginable. At this point, Godzilla did not care. The creation of the fake him was the greatest insult the little parasites could give him. After everything he did, they still wanted to exterminate him. To take his place as king. That was unacceptable.

He has kept the Earth balanced for eons, he defeated the pair of pests that were specially designed to kill him, he defeated multiple titans that would have killed millions before they could reach the humans, he eliminated the False King who would have terraformed the Earth and killed all life within it, and he recently destroyed their stupid metal titan that had gone rouge with the help of Kong. He had done so much for them. Yet they still tried to rebel. 

Just like Rodan. 

Godzilla roared in fury as he breached the waters. He and all other titans had felt the presence of the Three Headed One. The others would be arriving soon after hearing his commands to wake. It was the humans fault for keeping the alien's skull. This is what happens when those parasites mess with things they do not understand.

"Goji."

"Mothra."

His queen was waiting on the beach that surrounded the sacred island. Her body was tense, and her wings glowed a dull red in frustration. Both titans stared at each other without a word. A tension that rarely appeared between the two now suffocated them. Mothra had always told Godzilla to be less harsh on Rodan and more patient towards the humans. He had respected her requests for the most part, and he had done so for centuries. The moth knew that the king had reached a breaking point. She would not be able to convince him to spare the humans anymore. 

In silence the two climbed up the tallest mountain that had a lush valley below. The row of mountains acted as a sort of wall for humans. No one besides her Shobijin could enter safely. Though, the twins that had accompanied Mothra for centuries were gone for the most part. The last remnants of her Shobijin were present in the twins that worked for Monarch, the only group of humans that actively helped the titans. She repressed a mournful sigh as they reached the grassy surface. Anguirus was waiting for them with a fearful expression. The spiky titan bowed once he noticed Godzilla behind her. It was a stark contrast to how the pair used to greet each other. Before Godzilla became the king, he was simply a fellow titan. Yes, he was stronger than them, but he used his strength to protect and support. Now, his strength was used to force submission to their fellow kind. In the past, Anguirus and Godzilla would greet each other with a wrestling match. One of them would pounce of the other, and they would playfully tousle until Mothra intervened. At times, Rodan would join in the mock-fight, which created an even bigger headache for the moth. She would do anything to have those times back. 

Shaking her head to rid herself of her nostalgic thoughts, she looked at Godzilla directly. He may be angry, but she refused to be intimidated. "I suppose you are aware of what has happened?" Mothra spoke with an even tone. If Godzilla was going to rage, then she would keep her composure no matter what. Anguirus was already beginning to tremble as they waited for Godzilla's response. 

A snort left the lizard's nostrils. "I am. It's hard not to be aware when that fucking bird has been on my radar for years." His lips curled in a sneer, revealing his sharp teeth. 

"You know that Rodan is-"

"I don't give a shit if Rodan is 'upset' or 'troubled'! He knew what would happen if he disobeyed my direct orders, and he did it anyways!" Godzilla interrupted the winged titan with a roar. Something he had never done before. The titan even mocked her when referring to the many times she had told him to be more sympathetic towards the volcanic titan. His dorsal plates glowed an even brighter blue, an instinctual intimidation display. "Thanks to him, I have to find and kill that faker all over again! If it wasn't for your precious humans, Ghidorah's skull would have never been found! I should have never fucking listened to you!" 

"Godzilla, you must understand that-"

"NO. I am not sparing those parasites ever again! I have had enough of their constant destruction and rebellions. Because of them, the Earth is more unbalanced than it has ever been! They're better off dead, and you know that! Stop defending them! They are worth nothing!" As his anger grew, Godzilla's long tail thrashed violently on the ground. The tip nearly hit Anguirus who had started to back away from the arguing pair. Each word that left his mouth shocked Mothra more and more. Her partner had never disregarder her in such a way. It truly showed how far Godzilla had fallen. Said titan was not done yet. "Those humans are dying today, Mothra! I am not gonna be convinced otherwise! And once I find Rodan, I'll kill him and that golden monstrosity! I am done with such insubordination!"

"We shouldn't-"

"Your input won't do anything anymore. The humans and Rodan have gone too far. I'll compromise with you on anything else, but not this. Those parasites have ruined everything! Rodan doesn't fucking listen while the bugs have been ruining MY WORLD! THEY ARE GOING TO FUCKING SUFFER FOR EVERYTHING THEY HAVE-"

"GOJIRA, BE QUIET!" Mothra screeched so loudly an so suddenly that Godzilla's mouth snapped shut. Her grand wings were spread out to make herself bigger while glowing a bright crimson. Her calm composure had finally shattered at the repeated interruptions and disrespect. "I will not be treated like one of your 'subjects' that you can push around with ease. I am your equal, Godzilla. Not your subordinate. Now, you will be quiet as I speak. Am I clear?" The warm voice Mothra was known for was now colder than ice. 

All the anger Godzilla had been feeling vanished. Throughout the centuries of knowing each other, Mothra had never raised her voice in such a way, not even once. She was the level headed of the two. He was a raging storm that only calmed with her light. His vengeful and violent thoughts were starting to fade away as guilt slowly wrapped around his very soul. The betrayed look in his queen's eyes further strengthened the coils of the shame he felt. 

Mothra took a deep breath to reorder her thoughts. "I have been by your side since this planet was created. It was never yours to begin with. The Earth does not belong to us, and it never will. We are the protectors. Not the owners. Not the rulers. Not the executioners. We have no right to get rid of what nature has created. Humans are inhabitants of  this planet just as much as we are. They have the sharpest minds of any creature I have ever seen. They create things, Goji. Can you think of another animal who can build the things they do? To think that they are parasites is wrong. Yes, they have hurt the Earth. Yes, they have ruined the balance. Yes, they have tried to kill our kind and even you. But they haven't exactly done it on purpose." She had been glancing at the horizon while speaking. Mothra hadn't wanted to look at her long-term partner. When she noticed the lack of response from the lizard, she glanced at him. Godzilla had been struck siIent. He barely breathed as he looked at her with wide eyes.

With a sigh, she continued. "I doubt any human creates something with the sole purpose of hurting nature. They need guidance more than anything else. Our existence has been a horrifying discovery for the humans. They fear things they do not understand. They fear you especially. We can't communicate with them properly in order to show that we aren't their enemies. I have seen many humans show kindness and attempt to learn about our kind. In turn, I have done the same for them. What have you done, Gojira? Have you taken a single moment to try to understand the species that inhabit this realm? There is so much more to them than destruction. I am aware that there are humans who have done horrific deeds. They made a machine to kill you and other titans. They created a bomb that killed all the life on Rodan's island while nearly killing you. Who were the ones that saved you, hm? Who were the ones that sacrificed themselves to pull you from the brink of death? If they hadn't intervened, Ghidorah would have destroyed the world! You cannot say that all humans are parasites when there are so many instances when they are anything but. The ungrateful one is you. You are millions of years old and are antagonizing the species that has existed for less that a fraction of that time!" Her voice raised slightly at the very end. It pained her to have to use such harsh words to the being she had adored for eons. 

Godzilla still had yet to utter a sound, so Mothra took it as her chance to speak about the subject that was plaguing her the most. "Over the years, you have antagonized everyone. So much so that I have become your only ally. I do not know what happened to make you start asserting your power over our kind. I slowly saw you become someone  so power hungry that you were willing to kill innocent beings who you thought posed a threat. I let my own feelings get in the way of stopping you. I have tried to justify your actions in my head for so long, but I see that I cannot do that anymore. My intentional ignorance only served to help myself, not our people. We have lost so many friends, yet you still try to instill fear on the few titans that remain. They do not respect you, Gojira. You are astonished at Rodan's rebellious nature despite the fact that you have wronged him too many times to count. He is strong willed and will not give in to fear. You should know how reckless he is. I am astonished at how far you have gone to keep him in line. You eliminated the being he treasured the most. After you killed his kind, Rodan had no one to raise him except Quetz...She was powerful and apparently a 'threat' that had to be removed." Mothra spat the last word viscously. 

Her wings sagged a little, and Mothra looked away once more. "I have a part in her wrongful death. My lack of action costed her her life. I will regret my cowardice for the rest of my life. Rodan has never looked at me or you the same way ever since...Do you know why Rodan switched sides so easily? Do you? Or do you just think Rodan became a 'traitor' for kicks and giggles?" The once powerful voice Mothra had started to crack. Her next words were spoken in a broken whisper. "He hates us, Goji. He hasn't been treated with an ounce of care of respect in centuries. Ghidorah, as shocking as it may be, saw him as the fierce warrior he was always meant to be. It is obvious why he would choose him over you...Why he would attack me so brutally...Why he has risked execution at your claws just to bring Ghidorah back..." She grew quiet for a long, long time. When Rodan had pinned her during the battle in Boston, she could see the amount of pain and anger Rodan's golden eyes held. It was the first time seeing him since coming out of hibernation, and he was not the same titan she once knew. The impulsive yet caring hatchling she had found one day had turned into a winged beast that only looked at her with pure malice. And she could not bring herself to be upset at Rodan in the least. 

Godzilla attempted to speak, but found himself with no words to say. His normal response would have been to lash out and attack. However, this wasn't any other troublesome titan. This was Mothra. His Mothra. She has never sounded so angry, hurt, and disappointed in him before. The silence enveloped them. One now too guilt-ridden to speak while the other was in a state of shock and denial. 

It was deadly quiet for what seemed like hours. 

The silence was eventually broken by a voice they hadn't heard for over a millennia.

"You must have done something very stupid for my sister to be this upset and for me to be awoken. I wonder what it could be..." Battra spoke with a teasing tone that was underlined with a hidden threat. His dark red eyes narrowed at the silent king. Behind him, the last titans on Earth stood before them; Battra, Scylla, Behemoth, Methuselah, the Queen MUTO, Baragon, and Biollante. None of them were happy. Well...Except for one.

At the sight of the titan he thought he had killed, Godzilla's eyes widened almost comically. A wide smile appeared on a familiar face. One covered with green vines and sharp teeth. 

"Hey, big bro! I can't wait to see how you've fucked up!" 

This was going to be quite the reunion. 

.

.

.

"Hey, Rick?"

"What is it now, Sam?"

"Is it normal for Isla De Mara to suddenly have a radiation spike?"

A pause befell the two scientists. Each had stayed late to try to figure out the disappearance of a dangerous titan and the reappearance of an even more dangerous titan. To say that they were stressed would be an understatement. 

"Radiation spike?"

"Yup."

The older scientist took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. A headache had been forming for the past hour, and the sonographer desperately wanted to sleep. Now, he had to stay up for the rest of the night to look into the anomaly in the supposed inhospitable island. What else could go wrong?

"Also, I just got an alert that Kong is nowhere to be found." 

Rick slammed his head on his desk and groaned in despair. His hands grasped at his white hair and pulled. 

"Is this a bad time to mention that we're also out of coffee?"

"GODDAMMIT, SAM!"

.

.

.

San nuzzled Rodan's head for the umpteenth time. The three headed alien had yet to leave the pool of titan essence. His brothers had yet to return, but he had at least regained his missing tail and scales. The warmth of the pool and his birdie soothed his aches immensely. Being used to power that machine, unable to die, was the worst experience of his life. It was cold. So, so cold. He never wanted to be cold again. 

"When do you think Ichi and Ni will return?" Rodan asked softly. He didn't mind the hydra's incessant need for touch, it was the opposite. After spending centuries hibernating in a volcano and being outcasted before and after said hibernation, it left the volcanic pteranadon feeling a sense of loneliness so strong that it hurt. His species were social creatures. Most titans lived in solitude and didn't form packs or flocks. Rodan had always seeked out the company of others. After his falling out with Godzilla, he never truly regained that sense of companionship again.

It was a large reason why the beaked titan enjoyed being with Ghidorah. Each of his heads had a separate personality. While they shared a body, they did not share a mind. Ni tended to be more aggressive and temperamental. He attacked first and didn't bother with questions ever. His impulsive tendencies led him to gain the most scars. The right head had a cracked horn and split lip. Ni was proud of the scars and bragged to his brothers about being stronger than them. Ichi was the leader of the siblings and acted as the eldest despite the alien hydra being born at the exact same time. Ichi tended to be calmer than his two brothers, but he would not hesitate to yell at them if they were annoying him too much. His patience was limited, but it was still more than what Ni and San were capable of. The middle head had the strongest hatred towards Godzilla for the treatment of his brothers. Ichi was protective of his brothers and did not take kindly to the radioactive lizard ripping off San's head. Speaking of the left head, San was the most curious of the three. He saw Earth as something to explore instead of destroy. He was the most willing to try any of the food Rodan brought. Additionally, he was the most affectionate with Rodan as well as his brothers. San was still capable of being ruthless when he wanted to, however. Out of the three of them, San was actually the most protective of their fierce birdie. 

While Rodan had spent only a few days with Ghidorah, he had grown fond of them surprisingly quick. The alien was protective, but they knew that Rodan was powerful in his own right. He had missed them more than he thought he would in recent years. They had met in the past, but it was always during a battle  or shortlived. Ghidorah would arrive on Earth, Godzilla would fight him alongside Mothra and any other titan who decided to help. This often included Rodan. The large hydra would retreat to space, come back, and it would repeat for years until Godzilla trapped the trio in ice. 

A pleased hum left San's muzzle. "They seem to be more aware now. They'll likely regenerate completely soon." His eyes were closed in bliss. It was rare that the Golden Demise would feel such a thing as exhaustion or sore muscles. San did not enjoy feeling so...weak. He knew they were not supposed to be weak, but San knew better than to lie to himself and his brothers. They had been beaten badly at the claws of the Weak King and his infuriating entourage. The moth was a nuisance that had trapped them and given the stupid lizard immense power when the trio had incinerated her. She had pierced their birdie with a stinger that was filled with venom. Despite the years of battling her and her weak partner, Ghidorah had never noticed such a weapon. It made them unreasonable angry that the infernal insects would do such a thing, so they used their gravity beams to turn her into dust. It revived his well known opponent so much that all of their attacks were for naught. The dumb little creatures that had followed the titans around had also given the brutish king a boost in power. Not only that, but the annoying bugs had created a device that used cheap trickery to distract Ghidorah. 

The next time Ghidorah would fight Godzilla, there would not be any cheap tricks that would aid the ugly reptile. No moth and no devices to help the king. 

Ghidorah did not enjoy creatures who ruled over others. It was something the weak would do. And Ghidorah hated anything that was weak. The hydra enjoyed fighting, but not if the battle was rigged. While they usually won those unfair battles, it wasn't as fun. Additionally, the hydra had a special hatred for those that took control of the minds of others. While Ghidorah had done that himself, it was done to awaken the many hibernating titans. He didn't really control their every move because he was focused on other things like his birdie and defeating the old lizard. Ghidorah knew what it was like to not be in control of their own body. They knew how it felt to have every muscle move without their consent. The beings responsible are long gone now, but Ghidorah would never forget what they did. 

A quiet chirp broke the left head out of his thoughts. Rodan had taken notice to how San had completely zoned out. San chuffed at the smaller titan to reassure him that he was alright. No other creature had ever cared for San accept his brothers. The three had always thought that they only had each other to rely on. This was true for most of their lives until a particular winged beauty came into their lives with a fiery passion. 

They would both relish in getting revenge on the ones who wronged them. It would be a fight to remember. 

At the thought, San purred and used his head to tuck Rodan close. It could take hours or even days for his brothers to literally come back from the dead. Until they returned, he was content to wait in the warmth of his fire bird. 

Patience would be the most lethal weapon they'll need if they were to win. 

And they would win. 

#godzilla king of the monsters #gojira #mothra #monsterverse #rodan kotm #rodorah #rick stanton #san ghidorah #ichi ghidorah #ni ghidorah #king ghidorah #mothzilla #rodan #anguirus #kotm

[mommyghostface28]

I want to fucking snap a Dom in half and make me a whiny little brat to play with. More of a fight the better, but in the end, I want to fucking win. I want sex that's borderline violent, fighting for dominance, angrily and full of lust. I want to be bruised and look like I just came back from hell. I want the marks on our bodies to be mutual signs of ownership and warnings to anyone who wants a taste of MY partner. I want to get so god-damned possessive that from an outsider's point of view it would look dangerous. But on the flip side of my coin, I want to hold and comfort my partner after a long day at work, give them a bone-deep massage that makes their body turn to jelly, kiss every part of their body slowly and carefully like they're made of glass. I want to treat them like my only reason for existence is to make them happy, to ease their troubles, and to hold their heart in my safe protecting hands.

Keeping my thoughts sorted amongst these desires and compulsions, is a nightmare, and writing them down is how I keep track. Your blog captures the essence and feelings that are behind my writing. Thanks mommy, for the fantastic blog!

-♈

mmmm fuck..I dream of a session like this. I want fiery passion, I want kisses so molten hot I melt under them. you to push me while I push back. I want us to meet in the middle of the bed, hungry, desire growing in our bellies. I want us to fight over each other, teeth snarling, a hard grip around your throat while you reach for mine. An equal fight. I want battle wounds, I want possessive marks all over my body so I can flash them at anyone else who dares to touch me. You don’t leave my sight until I’ve left you bruised, covered in my marks, spread across your body like pretty landmarks. Pinpointing where I’ve been.

And when everything is said and done, I want to bring you back down from the clouds nestle you in soft blankets. Run my fingertips down every part of you, soothing the flames. I want to come home to your touch, to something that feels safe. I want to spend time cuddling, forgetting the days are passing. I want to be the castle that keeps you safe. Nothing can get to you when you’re surrounded by me.

That was beautifully written. I enjoyed reading that this morning, it made me miss being in love. ❤️

I hope you have a wonderful day, my little Aries 😘

-♈️

#wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #nsft wlw #lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #nsft lesbian #bd/sm mommy #wlw domme #lesbian #sapphic ns/ft #nsft sapphic #sapphic ns/fw #bi ns/fw #bi nsft #queer ns/fw #queer nsft #nb ns/fw #nblw nsft #♈️ #Mommys Asks 😈

[tired-biscuit]

Imagine giving General Kiba a handjob during an important meeting- 👀👀

18+ fem!reader / cw: mentions of alcohol and risk of getting caught. royalty AU. there's tension between kiba and shino in this one!!

series masterlist

mead tastes better than you thought it would.

absent-mindedly staring at the dancing flames of the fireplace that's situated right across the great table you currently sit at, you consume the honeyed drink from your glass in small sips.

fine ladies such as yourself usually don't drink alcohol in order to obtain their graceful poise and elegant speech, you know this, however ever since your father had married - sold - you off to a war general instead of a duke, or at least a nobleman who'd know how to dance and use his utensils properly, you've since abandoned that particular idea.

so you sit there; in your 'i carry my own knife strapped to my belt like some heathen, instead of using normal silverware' husband's study. the study, which he lets you in only as of late, and which you've just realized looks absolutely divine, even if its visual does come off a tad bit blurry around the edges of your sight whenever you blink.

readjusting in your chair, you drag your gaze from one end to the other. the walls are decorated with tasteful art which he definitely did not pick or hang. the furniture, made out of wood that you suspect is surely walnut, pleasantly compliments the suave style of the entire space. incense burns in one corner, smelling prominently of sandalwood. it fills your lungs with warm hints of amber and worn leather.

it's all very male, the atmosphere, and as the minutes pass, the heaviness of it turns you somewhat dozy. truth be told, you could fall asleep right then and there, with your cheek laying flat against the table, dreams riddling your thoughts in no time. especially when you'd have thickly sweet mead warming your veins throughout the entire night, and you'd already managed to slip off your shoes just a moment prior.

wiggling your toes deeper into the carpet, you let out an appreciative sigh at how the rich material brushing against your bare soles feels astoundingly more intense than usual. being tipsy is great, you discover, and the carpet is thick and in the colour of a deep maroon red; its purpose only meant to add further to the already overly-sophisticated ambience of the room that doesn't suit the wildish personality of the general at all. you suppose that it's because he hasn't been using the study for long enough yet, but who knows?

still, you don't pay much mind to the thought as the feverish shade plays with your drunken brain the moment you dip your chin down to inspect it more closely. toes tightly curling, it's like your feet are touching molten steel from how warm and soft they've suddenly gotten, and it doesn't take you long to realize that you have no way of cooling them down.

the heat sits not on your skin; it instead brings your blood to a simmer.

your husband doesn't address the weight of your foot when you rest it on top of his boot underneath the table. with his nose nearly buried in copious stacks of maps and documents all representing your thriving nation that's ruled by the iron fist of your father, kiba has been ignoring you completely for the last three hours or so in order to strategize and prepare for his next campaign.

the war is over, he's won it - that is why you're here, after all - and yet he still works and plans ahead of time to foresee the next challenge that could possibly be thrown his way. it's a trait you catch yourself feeling slightly surprised by, perhaps even fond over; one that you wouldn't necessarily appoint to a careless brute like him.

he's all different kinds of clever than what you're normally used to, you realize. when he focuses, it's rather on anticipating attacks and finding ways to efficiently counter their assisting blows, than on poetry and music and the arts and just plain literature.

you've never seen him read a book, even if there are plenty in the library downstairs and inside this study alone. much less encountered him drawing something other than charts to place his platoons and battalions of soldiers on, and the childish-looking rabbits he sometimes scribbles for you to make you smile. philosophy is almost surely a foreign term to him, all he cares about is the bite of the fight.

so perhaps that, along with all the scheming and planning he does with his stoic advisor now, proves to be the reason as to why he hadn't fussed at all and had merely brushed you off with a quick wave of his hand when you'd whispered to him that you intend to pour yourself a drink. and a second. and later, a third.

either that, or he's slowly getting used to you actually having a mind of your own, and is letting you do whatever you please with it just so that you'd let him do his job in return.

but alas, your mind is bored. terribly so.

and standing next to your chair, with his arms spread out firmly on the table and his broad shoulders slumped, he looks mighty appealing as well.

applying further pressure to his boot, you watch as the bridge of his nose scrunches slightly at the contact. he doesn't say or do anything besides knitting his brows together, but by the time you repeat the action for a second time, way more persistently at that, he finally lifts his gaze from the group of small figurines he's been obsessively rearranging all across the map, and turns to look at you instead.

the moment your husband's attention moves onto you, his military advisor clamps his mouth shut; finally ceasing his seemingly-endless assessment of the area they've chosen to put the phantom-soldiers on, and that you've been forced to listen to for the last aeon or so.

well, not exactly forced, per se. you're in here by your own decision; because you've nagged kiba about wanting to see what his line of work looks like.

so whilst you're still trying to get used to the sudden silence to fall upon the room, you give a fleeting glance to the soldier that stands across from you, now. he's tall, fair-skinned and lean. handsome but guarded, as far as you can tell, since he doesn't even look at you, much less acknowledges your presence despite that you're of noble blood.

privilege doesn't seem to matter to military men. to him, you're just another woman amongst many. a mere breeding mare, as disgusting as that sounds.

your husband used to be just like that.

"yes, princess?" the man in question asks, putting your train of thought to an abrupt halt. when you whip your head to the side so that you can look up at him, you're able to tell that he's tired almost straight away. you can hear it in the prominent drawl of his voice and see it in his eyes. he's fed-up even if he loves to work, and it makes your brow furrow with concern.

"i-i... uhm," your tongue stumbles and you fall silent for a moment as heat steadily begins to creep up your neck. if it's because of the alcohol or the sudden racing that the sugary pet name invokes in your heart, you do not know. still, you swallow hard and calm your pulse down just enough to say, "i'm sorry, i just wanted to suggest if we'd call it a night...? you seem tired and it's getting quite late anyway, and-"

your voice fades into nothing for a second time around when he chooses to move. he's slow but everlastingly robust as he sighs and plops down onto the chair that's right on your left. his body slumps against the finely-carved details in the backrest and you try to pretend that you don't notice the visible cord that pushes against his neck when he moves to stretch it from side to side. try to play ignorant at how he spreads his legs underneath the edge of the table and sits as if he comandeers the entire room.

it's probably because he does.

he rubs at his eye now, all sleepy and laggard, and uses the other one to look at you. "let me just figure out if the terrain we chose is passable, and then i promise you that we'll head straight to bed." he blinks, then. fights back a yawn because he hasn't been sleeping well for nearly a week straight. "does that sound all right?"

a blush sears your face at his words, its warmth making your cheeks feel like they're tingling as you turn away and indulge in your sudden bashfulness. he might be a smooth talker or maybe you're just drunk, but goddammit; the fact that he's actually willing to put in the effort to settle on an agreement almost regularly now, lights your entire body on fire.

you're changing him for the better day by day and your lips keep tugging upward at the corners because of it, especially when you say, "yes, that's fine by me."

"good," he mumbles, taking note of the beam before he turns his attention back towards his aloof-looking subordinate. "now, where were we, shino?"

shino, as you've just learned is the advisor's name, quirks a dark, inquisitive brow at the exchange he's just witnessed. the man before you doesn't remember his general ever acting this considerate around anyone, much less a woman.

it makes his eyes dance between you as he clears his throat. "if i may suggest," his gaze goes back and forth again, "that if the lady wishes to retire for the evening, she should be free to do so? we've still got a lot of material to go through, and disturbances like these aren't of any help when it comes to making a decision, i'm sure."

disturbances.

your heart drops right down to the pit of your stomach. the fact that the word affects you is hard to hide; embarrassment makes your face burn once more, because now you've got your husband's thigh firmly pressing against the side of yours underneath the table. his knee bounces in a quick rhythm that doesn't help calming you down, but one bump to your leg reminds you to keep your spine ramrod straight and your chin held high.

when you look at him from the corner of your eye, there's a small smile playing on his lips. and yet, his voice sounds like it's being grit out through clenched teeth as he says, "i don't know what kind of wife you've got back at home, but mine sure isn't a disturbance; as you've so kindly put it."

"i understand that, sir," shino says, his voice remaining perfectly flat, "but she-"

"the lady suggested that we should perhaps put a halt on this thing, because she can tell that i'm fed up and fucking tired," the other man cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose with his scarred fingers. "and as far as i can tell, that's not a disturbance; it's rather affection coming from a caring spouse. besides, she has a point. what fruitful decision had ever been made by an exhausted general?"

the advisor's eyes narrow as your own shoot wide open. your heart insists on fluttering back up towards its rightful place, even as shino says, "i don't seem to recall you ever being this careful during the planning of a campaign before... usually you're more than eager to run headfirst into battle and i have to be the one stopping you."

"well, i've got more important things to consider and worry about now. much larger things are at stake," the general replies, brushing him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "now, go fetch me that book you were talking about earlier; i think i saw it in the bookcase over there by the window. after we skim it, we can call it a night so that we're all happy."

he makes it sound like an order, not a request. and sure enough, his advisor is still a soldier, so he quietly obeys as he pushes away from the table and turns his back towards you both whilst heading towards the bookcase at the other side of the room. you don't miss the subtle albeit frustrated tick in his jaw as he does so. it makes you muse.

meanwhile, kiba uses the chance to press a hasty kiss to your still-warm cheek. the sudden affection nearly makes you audibly gasp, but you're fast to stifle it down even if the mead in your belly tells you not to.

instead, you place your hand on his thigh and don't dare look into his big brown eyes as you mutter a meek, "i'm sorry."

"eh? what on earth are you sorry for, princess? you were just looking out for me, were you not?" he rasps, his voice no longer sharp, but playful. "besides, shino should be the one apologizing for acting like a stuck-up cunt towards my goddamn wife."

"oh, you can't just-" a small giggle bubbles up your throat at his blatant cursing. you're quick to cover your mouth with your other palm, but a fraction of it still manages to slip out. he can't deny it anymore; the sound jumpstarts kiba's very heart.

he doesn't tell you this, but he's growing more fond of you with each passing day. you bring sunshine and warmth into his existence by merely existing yourself. slowly figuring out a functioning dynamic that works well between you, sharing a bed and sometimes a bath, having someone to talk to late at night, receiving little signs of affection; it all makes him feel like life is worth living. like he's worth living for.

so it's no wonder why his hand cups your chin and he whispers, "so... could i perhaps get a little kiss? as a reward for being such a good husband?"

you're clearly flustered, because now you're looking at him from underneath your lashes as you mumble, "now?"

"mhmm," he purrs, draping his free arm over the backrest of your chair. "right now."

"but what if your advisor-"

"you know that book i mentioned earlier?" he interrupts, leaning in even closer. he smells like a forest; deep and rich, earthy. it titillates your senses.

"mm," is all you offer in answer. god, you're so drunk that the heat between your legs is pulsating in his presence. it's becoming almost unbearable, you feel like a whore despite that he's your husband.

he glances towards the other man in the room, whose back is still turned towards you as he keeps searching the bookshelves. "...well, i might have forgotten to mention that it's up in my bedroom because i'd been reading it just last night."

you blink, clearly surprised. "you read?"

"only when i have to." he glances across the room again before he licks his lips and says, "but the point i'm trying to make is that he's gonna be searching for it for a long while, so i think it's safe to say that a kiss would go entirely unnoticed."

you sigh at this, but succumb rather quickly. it might be because of the alcohol that's still coursing your system or because of his coaxing and urging, but by the time your lips press against his own softly, aiming for a simple peck, he's quick to immediately turn it into something deeper.

he just likes you so much. and can you blame him that he wants a little bit of loving from the person he admires, after the tough, absolutely draining week he's had? he's just so needy.

and he's also a messy kisser. your whimper is silenced when he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and licks your teeth with the swift arrogance of an assured male. he angles your head by pressing his thumb underneath your chin and sucks on your bottom lip until it starts to feel awfully tender and bruised. you can feel the slight grazing of his unnaturally sharp incisor every once in a while as he continues to taste you. it's enough to drive a woman completely mad.

especially because you can feel him hardening just underneath your palm, now. it seems that your treacherous hand had decided to act upon its own selfish desires whilst you were too busy handling his tongue in your mouth, and had inched higher up his leg until it'd finally settled on the now-prominent bulge that resides in his pants.

by the time you pull apart for air, his cock is already pushing against the buttons and there's a string of saliva connecting your panting mouths. his cheeks are flushed, brown eyes glazed as he releases his hold on your chin and swipes his thumb across your lip to get rid of the spit there.

"we shouldn't-" you start, but he silences you by wedging his thumb between your plush lips and pushing it into your mouth, right to the knuckle. you can see his pupils dilate when your first instinct is to suck on it.

"fuck, you've got such a good-lookin' mouth; but i can't... just..." he mumbles somewhat dazedly now, his voice hoarse in that appealing way that tells you he's horny out of his fucking mind, and so quick, too. he inhales a sharp breath, shaking his head as if he's trying to gather his thoughts before he focuses on you again and rasps, "just stroke it. over my pants."

when you give his advisor a sidelong glance, you're relieved to find out that he's still stubbornly searching for the book in hopes of not disappointing his superior. but unfortunately for you, your husband isn't pleased with you directing your attention on another man at a crucial time like this.

"hey... look at me, princess," he taps his fingers against your cheekbone and presses his thumb onto the flat of your tongue, making you wince in surprise when your throat tightens in answer. "i need you to stroke my cock, all right?"

all you do is grunt in response. the sound comes out muffled.

"it'll just look like we're whispering to each other. you know, as a married couple does from time to time," he inches closer, his way of speaking urgent. "i promise he won't notice a thing."

he's gotten so desperate now that he's even wrapped his hand around your own and started moving it up and down his length. when your grip tightens around his clothed cock, you watch in awe as he bites his lip to suppress a groan.

his arm is still resting on your chair's backrest when he pushes forward again and nearly covers your body from sight with his own. hunching his back, he tries to hide the way his ribcage expands whenever he sucks in breaths that grow deeper by the second. you can feel the film of sweat on his forehead when he rests it against your own.

"sir? i can't seem to find the book," shino starts. your heart nearly gives out at the sound of his voice, it's like lightning flashes throughout your every cell.

"keep lookin', i'm sure it's in there somewhere," kiba bites out immediately. all polite talk has ceased to exist.

"but-"

"that's an order, soldier."

you push his thumb out of your mouth with the help of your tongue to chide, "that doesn't seem really convincing! if he turns around, it'll-"

"look like we're gossiping," kiba persists. you nearly squeak when his fingers dig into your gown and rest on your thigh. "like a married couple; just like i've said."

"h-hey-"

"just keep going," he hisses. his eyes are so dark that it makes you fear they'll swallow you whole, and as if he can sense your growing anxiety, he forces his gaze to soften a bit before he adds, "please. you're doing such a good job and i really want this."

you're scared of getting caught because you're supposed to be representing the image of innocence, but truth be told; you're also impeccably thrilled at the same time. he feels big in your hand; fat and heavy and warm between your fingers even over the layer of fabric. every time you squeeze him over his pants, he twitches and bucks his hips right into your touch just to gain more friction.

"fuck yes, princess." every breath is ragged. "that's it... gonna make me cum so fast."

"shh! keep quiet."

it's kind of sweet, how evidently he needs you. but it's also lewd.

the things this man's libido makes him do is unbelievable. it's only been a couple of days since he's last made love to you, and here he is; with his sanity nearly crumbling down to its pillars whilst teaching you how to give him a not at all subtle, under-the-table handjob even if there's an audience nearby. you can't believe he's willing to risk his rank or fall subject to despicable rumours for just a mere touch of your hand.

either he's absolutely delirious, or he's a fool in love. but nevertheless, by the time shino at long last admits defeat and confesses he's unable to find the book; he's also sated.

and as for you; well, let's just say it's hard not to laugh at the knowledge that your husband's pants are sticky with cum when you excuse yourself from the table and he's stuck in the study, rearranging his little toy soldiers.

#this turned out way more detailed than i anticipated but oh well jdjdjdjdj #i love him ur honour #kiba smut #kiba x reader #naruto smut #biscuit's royalty au #biscuit drabbles