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dilemmaontwolegs · 6 months

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What a Mess || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: After the disastrous start to the Brazilian GP, Charles needs an outlet Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, rough sex, choking WC: 1.3k

Charles didn’t say a word as he navigated his way through the garage to you. His team patted his back and offered words of consolation but he didn’t feel them, he didn’t hear them. All Charles needed was an outlet for the blood pulsing through his body with all the rage of an inferno.

You were on your feet as soon as you saw him round the corner and though you couldn’t see his eyes through the visor of his helmet you knew that they would have darkened with the storm of emotions ravaging him. He didn’t stop as he reached you, merely reaching out after ripping the glove off his hand and grasping your upper arm to tow you along with him.

“Charles, I’m so sor-”

“Don’t,” he spat, the tone clipped and acerbic. “Don’t say another word.”

You kept your lips closed and nodded as you let him guide you out of the sight of his team. The garage wasn’t as permanent as some of the other tracks, with temporary walls erected from thin materials, so silence was needed when he shut the door to his driver room. You watched as Charles grabbed a chair and shoved the metal back up under the door handle before testing its durability.

Your fingers were already reaching for the zipper at the side of your dress as he tugged his helmet off his head and let it fall to the concrete floor with a crack. He tugged his balaclava off next and dumped it next to your dress at your feet as you reached for him. For a moment he closed his eyes and let you cradle his face, the lack of crease lines on his cheeks showing just how little he spent wearing the protective gear. You would do anything to see Charles race again - really race, like he did last year.

Somehow he still had hope for next year.

But what he needed now, well, Ferrari couldn’t give that to him. Only you could give him what he needed. An escape.

“Turn around,” he whispered as he caught your hands and pulled them away from his face. “Bend over.”

You complied in an instant, eager for the pleasure he promised and the high he was chasing. Your hands spread across his massage table as you pressed your front down onto the cold black vinyl and heard the velcro snap of his collar before the zipper was dragged down his race suit.

“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed across your skin and you shivered with delight as dropped to his knees behind you. “Fuck, you’re already so wet for me.”

His palms grasped your ass, roughly massaging them as he watched you squirm on the table impatiently. Next came his teeth, a chuckle following the bite to the sensitive skin at the back of your thigh as your back stiffened with the sounds you barely suppressed. His strong hands pushed your stance wider and his breath was heavy at the sight before him.

Finally. Finally, he buried his head between your legs and dragged his tongue along your slit. You couldn’t hear his moan when he tasted you but you could feel the vibrations on your core and your nails nearly pierced the vinyl at the sensation.

Charles worked you into a frenzy with his lips, his teeth, his tongue. He wasn’t happy until your legs could barely hold you without buckling and your silence was broken with a muffled cry. One orgasm rolled into the next and you lost yourself in the heady feeling, your mind empty save for the man who rose to his feet behind you.

“You’re a mess,” he whispered in your ear as he draped his body over yours, pride thick in his tone. You relished the weight that pinned you in place and the warmth of his skin on yours, barely being able to remember when he had stripped his fireproofs off. Charles’ hand fisted your hair and turned your head to crane back enough to see his green eyes jaded. “You’re a mess, just like me.”

Whatever argument you might have put up was swallowed by his kiss and it was just as messy with teeth and tongue. You melted at the growl he gave as he won the fight for dominance as he always did and a hand slipped between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Putain,” he swore as he reverted back to his native tongue. Your neck was still strained and the ability to talk or even swallow was almost impossible but still a strangled sound escaped as he snapped his hips and filled your cunt with one hard thrust. “Shhh, ma chat.”

You tried, you really tried, but your brain was no longer connected to your body as he fucked you into a mindless state. Your eyes rolled back into your head with each long stroke and your ability to breathe was lost when he bent his knees and somehow found a deeper angle.

There was no hope of keeping quiet when he found the sweet spot deep inside you and whatever he saw on your face had his hand curling around your throat. The sound that was building deep in your chest was choked with his tightening fingers and your heartbeat began to throb in your ears.

Your head spun and your body reacted, your hips bucking and your core tightening. Just when you thought you were going to have to reach for his hand, his fingers loosened and your lungs gasped for fresh air before it was stolen again. He knew what you could handle, and you knew you could trust him. He needed this as much as you did. He needed to be in control of something when it seemed everything was out of his reach. You were more than willing to let him control you.

This time when your orgasm came your cunt clenched tight around his cock and he trembled at the feeling. He called you his vice, in every sense of the word, and he relinquished the control he had yearned for as he lost himself in his own blissful release.

For a few moments he just lay there, draped across your body like a comforting blanket but all too soon the noise of the world around returned to your drumming ears and reality drew him from you.

“Why the fuck am I so unlucky?” he asked as he swiped his clothes from the floor, but you weren’t sure if he was asking the universe, himself or you.

“There’s no such thing as luck, Charles,” you answered anyway. His eyes flicked to you and watched your skin disappear beneath the dress you pulled back on. “Ferrari is unreliable. If you want to change your ‘luck’, start with changing your team.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he sighed. He kicked the chair aside that blocked the door before opening it and brushing his sweaty hair back into place. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He shouldn’t have had to ask and his insecurities only made you sad as you stepped closer to him. You caught his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tipping his head down so you could see your reflection in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His smile almost chased away the shadows on his face before he kissed you, soft and gentle this time. “I should go.”

“You smell like sex.”

He froze and realised he hadn’t even been thinking clearly enough to wash his face and after running his tongue over his lips he could still taste you. A real smile grew on his face and his head fell forward to touch yours with a laugh. “Oh my god, I told you I am a mess.”

“Yes, you are,” you agreed with a laugh as you closed the door again. “But this is a mess that I can help with. Come on, take a seat, it’s my turn to boss you around.”

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf #f1 smut #charles leclerc smut

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sixosix · 11 months

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( ! ) profanity bc it's a sixosix fic ofc.... inumaki whipped, fluff, wc 443

“why is it so fucking cold in here?”

outside, in the middle of a deserted town, the second years walk in circles in hopes of getting heat in their system to regenerate function back in their limbs. it doesn’t work. they continue walking, though stiffly—maki has resorted to jogging, but the temperature has her moving like a rusted doll.

inumaki nods along with maki’s complaints, burying his chin further into his scarf.

“you okay, toge? if i need to, i can cuddle you two to warmth!” panda says, slinging an arm over maki and inumaki’s shoulders.

“your fur’s cold!” maki shrieks at the same time inumaki hisses, “bonito flakes!”

then, the three of them pause their circles at the sound of footsteps and rowdy bickering. their first years come rolling in, shivering uncontrollably; even megumi, despite the blank expression he’s desperately trying to hold.

“you already have two layers; what are you whining at me for?” nobara snaps, shoving a weeping yuuji’s face off her space. megumi, right in the middle, leans back to avoid it.

yuuji perks up at the sight of panda, and, without a word, runs to tackle him. panda accepts him with ease. if maki and inumaki aren’t grateful, panda can always count on yuuji. if yuuji realized that panda’s fur felt like icicles right after, he doesn’t comment on it.

“it’s freezing,” you lament, followed by a full-body shudder. “why didn’t gojo-sensei warn us about this? i can barely feel my fingers.”

inumaki instantly perks up at the sound of your voice. without hesitation, he walks off and takes his jacket off in lieu of wrapping it over your shoulders.

“oh, thank you!” you beam at him, and inumaki’s face burns as if the temperature rose exponentially. “but aren’t you cold, toge-senpai?”

he shakes his head, fixing the sleeves of his jacket into your arms, then takes off his scarf to wrap it around you, too. inumaki takes a step back to check his work and nods proudly to himself. you continue smiling throughout inumaki’s obvious claim, oblivious.

he tilts his head. “mustard leaf?”

“oh, no, i’m good now. thank you.” as if to prove it, you exhale deeply and bury your face further into his scarf.

inumaki looks like he’s sunburnt.

“aren’t you cold?” you ask.

“fish flakes,” inumaki says. not anymore, everyone hears instead.

“is it just me, or has it become warmer all of a sudden…?” yuuji comments, half of his face buried in panda’s arm. his face is turning blue.

“gross,” nobara scoffs, as if she didn’t also hold her breath throughout the entire interaction either. “no, it’s not. can we ditch gojo-sensei? i’m ditching gojo-sensei.”

#606:JJK #x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki toge fluff #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki x reader

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assassinsblade · 4 months

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Forget Me Not | 3

Azriel and you try to navigate life around each other after his mistake.

WC: 5.3k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Blood, injury, death, angst, feelings, nightmares.

a/n: Reader is sorting through her emotions so don’t give her too much shit for not being mean YET. Don’t think Azriel is done suffering. He’s got some stuff coming to him in part 4…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

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Azriel’s presence was like the sun radiating onto your skin. You felt warm, but you didn’t know if it was because of the deep longing you didn’t think you could ever get rid of, or because you felt so out of place. His warmth had the potential to comfort you but also to burn you, and after all that had happened, you found yourself expecting the latter.

Things had changed so quickly. Days ago, you were giddy as you approached the male nearby, excited to talk about new books you had read, your interest in continuing your training, a sweets store you had heard about in Velaris.

And Azriel had always been sweet. He would listen to you and make suggestions of his own. He would take an interest in whatever you were passionate about that day, and he always went out of his way to make sure you were comfortable.

Unless Elain was there.

It was if her existence hypnotized the shadowsinger, trapping his attention onto her only. And maybe you could have lived with the scraps you got from him each day, if it wasn’t for how easily he left you behind.

The room was so uncomfortable, so anxiety-inducing, that you began to shiver under your robe. You crossed your arms over yourself to mimic some kind of warmth and comfort, knowing you shouldn’t attempt to receive any from him.

You could hear the clanging of ceramic and metal in the kitchen. The splashing of boiling water into a glass, the stirring of honey into the herbal tea, the clanking of the spoon on the mug. Azriel was always quiet. But he seemed to be making an effort to let you know exactly what he was doing at each point in time.

When he finally grasped the mug into two large palms and turned toward the table, you made sure to keep your head down.

You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. If he could hear how it still betrayed you after everything, somehow still reaching out to him, speeding up in his presence as if getting ready to overflow with love for him. That made you hate yourself a little bit more.

His movements were careful as he slid the mug in front of you, slowly taking a seat on the other side of the table. You didn’t say anything as your fingers hesitantly found the steaming drink, allowing its temperature to ease the shaking in your bones.

He was watching you, you could feel it. You so badly wanted to know what was going through his mind, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to speak to him. He had hurt you so incredibly bad.

If he hadn’t left without you, you would never have faced that male on your way home. You would never have to see his dead eyes staring back at you every time you blinked, feel the blood coating your fingers every time you moved them, smell his arousal when you crossed your legs or touched your neck.

And even if that male hadn’t been there, Azriel had forgotten you. You obviously didn’t take up enough of his mind for him to spare you the briefest thought. Meanwhile, all you ever thought about was him.

You felt like such a fool.

He swallowed harshly, wetting his lips before opening his mouth to say something.

You couldn't do this. You didn't want to hear this.

You quickly got to your feet, the hot tea spilling a bit onto your fingers in your haste. You winced, quickly wiping the liquid onto your robe and trying not to think of the same hot substance that had coated the same area only two days ago.

It was so warm, so thick, and it dripped down your fingers, down your neck.

Breathe.

Your chest rose and fell in sporadic breaths, and you stumbled a step back to get some distance.

Azriel always had a way of disarming you, both physically and emotionally. But you were too overwhelmed right now, unable to process everything that had happened to you in that alleyway, let alone what had happened with your friend.

Shakily, you breathed out, "I'm going to the other room - to the library."

He nodded, following every movement you made. His soft eyes tracked your breaths, your shaking, the way your wet fingertips wiped against your robe.

"I could join you-“

“No.”

He winced. The word had come so forcefully out of your mouth, you barely had time to think about it. And now you could almost see the hurt weaving through his chest, the way his breathing had hitched and caused him to still.

“I just… I’d like to read for a bit. Thank you, though.”

Then your feet were moving, tea forgotten on the table. You just had to make it to the door and then you could breathe.

"I'm sorry."

Azriel's voice floated through the air behind you, but it almost didn't sound like him. Not like the immovable spymaster you had come to know. Never had he sounded weak before... not until now.

You froze, back still turned to him, unsure if you could look at him for this. You could hear his feet shuffling, as if he were now standing and trying to control himself and stay put.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, voice breaking.

You swallowed down your own tears, the emotions clogging your airway.

"I thought you were coming for me, you know. When I was being attacked. I really thought you'd come."

A sound of anguish slipped passed his lips, but you couldn't stay to listen. You forced yourself to move forward, to take each step with strength until you could make it to the sanctuary of the library. And once you made it there, you clicked the door shut gently, breathing deeply as you sat down on the couch and collapsed into yourself.

This routine went on for days.

A shadow was always near you, monitoring your movements, your reactions, and your emotions. At first it bothered you, but after a day or two, you began to take comfort in the little thing. It was reassuring knowing something was watching over you, especially when your mind kept convincing your body you were in danger.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high, a brief image of that night sending your body into fight-or-flight before you could gain control of your mind and where you were at.

Most nights you stayed awake staring at the wall rather than sleeping. Every time you closed your eyes you felt muscle ripping underneath your fingertips and blood coating your hands. So you instead laid in silence, occasionally having a one-sided conversation with the shadow in the corner of your room.

Some of the inner circle had come to see you, although you knew Rhys was sending them over slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you.

Mor had come the day following your first interaction with Azriel. She had apologized profusely, despite the fact she hadn't technically done anything wrong. Then, she attempted to take your mind off things. She had brought snacks and gossip, and she had even tried to tell you an embarrassing story of Rhys she swore he would kill her for sharing.

You could only listen to half of what she was saying before your mind would wander, though. Before your body began to feel separate from you, as if it had been taken that night and was no longer your own. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin at times, and the feeling would come out of nowhere. It made you want to itch at the flesh, scratch it until it revealed your former self underneath, clean and untouched.

Cassian had invited you back to training whenever you wished to join. He said the Valkyries would be happy to have you, but he did offer to take up your private lessons again as well.

You told him you'd think about it.

You had seen Nesta around the house only once when you had come out for dinner. She had given you a small smile as you sat down at the table and took it upon herself to control the conversation between herself, Cassian, and Azriel.

Azriel hadn't spoken much that night, only giving a nod or a hum when addressed. Sometimes you felt him looking at you, but other times you felt him unable to meet your gaze as well.

You had trouble doing the same.

You wanted to see his hazel eyes, as much as you hated yourself for it. You wanted to hit him and curse him for leaving you that night, for not thinking about you as much as you thought about him. You wanted to scream and rage at what you had gone through, to allow the fire burning inside of your chest to catch fire to your skin and disintegrate your past and your feelings for him.

Instead, you kept quiet, and you kept to yourself.

You knew that your friends were worried. You saw the glances Cassian sent your way, felt the gentle caress on your mind when Rhys wanted to check in. But you couldn't find it in yourself to pretend like you were fine. You weren't. You couldn't sleep, you could barely keep food down, and you felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest.

It wasn't until four days later that you were finally able to fall asleep, the sleepless nights catching up to you and pulling you down into the dark depths of your mind.

And you really wished you had been able to keep your eyes open, because as soon as you fell under, hazel eyes filled your subconscious.

He was just as beautiful in your dreams as he was in real life. Sharp cheekbones, bright eyes, a soft smile that always looked like he was amused or trying not to laugh. His hair somehow looked like it was both styled and like he had rolled out of bed, running his hands through it a few times. And his stance, the way he towered over you in your dream was so like his lively physical presence that it made you step closer to him.

You felt safe, you felt-

"Elain's here," Dream Azriel spoke. You looked up from his chest to see him gazing over your shoulder toward the front door of Rita's, at the lovely doe-eyed female making her way into the crowded room.

You could only watch as her brown eyes met Azriel's hazel ones, how they both melted at the sight of one another. His scarred hands found yours - hands you found so much comfort in - and they pulled your own from his chest, moving past you and toward Elain.

His back was to you again. He looked relaxed, at peace, happy.

And then you blinked.

In a second he was gone, the beautiful high fae with him.

A pit formed in your stomach.

Another blink.

A cold alleyway, your head hitting stone.

Blink.

Tearing clothes, too soft-fingertips.

Blink.

A sharp pain, flowing red, dead eyes.

"What a lucky male I was to run into you..."

You jolted in bed, your eyes snapping open, chest heaving in breaths. Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe.

Gods, you couldn't escape it, couldn't escape the blood on your fingers or the cracking in your chest. You couldn't breathe, you were choking on your own tears, you were going to suffocate-

You hastily threw the blankets from your bed, stumbling up and onto the wooden floor. Your feet slipped underneath you, your whole body coated in a thin sheen of sweat, but you kept moving until you were pushing the door open clumsily. Chest tight, breaths short, you moved erratically through the hall.

Your teeth were chattering, your sweat-soaked skin freezing your body and causing goosebumps to form. Your thin nightgown did little to provide any warmth.

You found yourself outside of Cassian's door, wanting needing someone to help. Needing to know someone was there to protect you from your own mind, from the memories that plagued you. Needing a steady presence, anything-

But you couldn't possibly knock. He was in there with his mate, for gods sakes. That would be so inappropriate, you couldn't...

Gods, you really couldn't breathe. Your chest was caving in, you were sure of it. Feet stumbled backward away from the door, leaning your back up against the wall.

Eyes squeezed shut, hand pressed to your chest, you hear, "Breathe."

His voice made more tears fall from the corner of your eyes, a harsh gasp sounding from your throat as some air was sucked into your lungs.

Gods, you missed him. You missed him so much. You hated it, you hated him. Make it stop.

"Shhh," he soothed you, scarred fingers brushing your hair back from your face before his palms gently cupped your cheeks. "Breathe, sweetheart."

You forced your eyes open and met his hazel ones. Filled with concern, they guided you through his directions. In. Out. A hand placed by his own onto his chest. In. Out.

He nodded. He encouraged.

"That's it," he whispered. "Just like that."

You shook your head, your breaths turning into sobs. "Azriel-" you choked out.

And then his arms were around you, holding you against his chest. His large form engulfed your own, and you could feel the muscles of his biceps, smell the clean fabric of his black shirt, hear his steady heartbeat underneath your ear.

His hand stroked through your hair, but his arms stayed tight around you, as if he was just as terrified in that moment.

"You're okay," he reassured. "You're in the House of Wind. You are surrounded by Cassian, Nesta, and myself. You are safe."

The sounds you let out were indescribable, and you knew you'd be embarrassed in the morning, no doubt having awoken the two mates behind the door across from you.

"Shhh," he soothed again. "I've got you."

No, no, no. You shook your head. He shouldn't be comforting you. He shouldn't be making you feel better.

But he was. Stupid, stupid girl.

He pulled back slowly, using both hands to cup the sides of your face once again, pushing back the hair wet with tears. He bent down, attempting to make himself smaller so he could directly search your puffy eyes.

Thumbs swiped across your damp cheeks and your eyes fluttered closed involuntarily.

You loved him. You loved him so much, how could he have done this to you-

"Do you want me to get Cassian?" He asked softly. There was no judgement in the question, only a willingness to help. He had to have seen you contemplating knocking on the door, much to your embarrassment.

You shook your head, still regaining your breath.

He was silent for a moment, his hands still moving in your hair, stroking your cheeks.

"Do you want me to stay with you? Until you fall asleep?"

For some reason the question brought more tears to your eyes, and you looked down, away from the kindness flowing through his own.

You did, but you didn't. You had always felt safer with Azriel around, from the very moment you met him. But that might have changed. Did you trust him to keep you safe now? To truly see you when you needed him?

But wasn't that what he was doing now? Seeing you? Helping you?

What if Elain showed up, what if-

"I can stay in that one chair if you want. Or lay on the floor?" His voice was as gentle as his touch.

You broke. Your body still shaking with fear and anxiety, you knew you could hate yourself tomorrow, but tonight you needed him. And you needed him to stay this time, not to leave you alone.

You told yourself it didn't matter, because you just needed someone to be present with you, not necessarily him.

You nodded, and Azriel tracked the movement with his eyes before letting out a soft "okay" in confirmation.

No judgement. No expectation.

His hand was light on your waist as he led you back to your room, tightening only once to help as you stumbled.

Then he was guiding you to your bed, pulling the covers over your body still shaking with trepidation and the cold. He moved briefly to the windows, ensuring that they were locked before pulling the curtains closed and making his way to the chair tucked into the corner of your room. He pulled it slightly out, enough to be close to you but not enough to make you uncomfortable, and settled into it.

It took him a moment to get comfortable. Once he was still, however, he let a few of his shadows go and they swarmed around you, weaving through your hair and across the skin of your face in a gentle caress that helped to ease some of your trembling.

"Sleep," Azriel spoke quietly. "I'll be here."

You didn't have to voice your doubts to him. The room filled with tension at his words, at the obvious contradiction they posed to the other night when he had not, in fact, been there.

"I'm not leaving," he said to the unspoken thoughts. His voice was firm, confident, even if a tad sorrowful.

You only turned on your side and closed your eyes.

-------------------------------------

A small bang against your door woke you. It was disorienting, waking after finally getting a good night's rest. But that didn't stop yourself from turning your head toward the muffled noises in your doorway.

The wood shielded who was on the other side, but you heard them clear enough, the words sounding slightly jumbled or as if they were spoken from underwater.

"You best be careful, Az."

Cassian. And he didn't sound happy.

"What are you implying, brother?"

Azriel's voice was tight, as if he was balancing precariously and one push would send him over the edge. But you knew Azriel, and he wanted to be pushed, was welcoming of the freedom to let go of what he normally controlled so tightly.

You wondered how long they had been talking to get to this point of tension.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm telling you that you've always been selfish when it comes to females. If you are giving your care and attention to her as a way of making her feel better, that is fine, but if you are doing it for yourself-"

"Myself?" His voice rose slightly at the accusation.

"Can you honestly say your actions aren't influenced by guilt? We've all seen the way she looks at you now, behaves around you. If you are sulking in order to get her to forgive you, you've reached a new low, Azriel."

"You listen to me," Azriel spit out, and you could picture his jaw clenching, the way he stepped up close to Cassian in anger. A beast unleashed, and Cassian ready to take his rage. "She could hate me for the rest of my life, hit me, never speak to me again, and I would always try to provide her with a sense of safety again. Do I feel guilty? Of course I fucking do! I would give the wings off my fucking back to be able to go back to that night. I will never forgive myself for what happened, for not fucking thinking. And I will, deservingly so, live with that for the rest of my life. But she shouldn't have to... so I am doing what I can to help. To see her smile again, to be able to eat and sleep. Okay? Do I need your fucking permission, Cass?"

It was quiet. You tried to steady your breathing at his words.

Cassian sighed. "Do you honestly know what you're doing?"

Azriel must have made a motion for his brother to continue, because Cassian went on, his voice dropping to the point you had to adjust your position a bit to hear. "This isn't just about the attack. We have all seen the way she looked at you before all of this..."

No, Cassian, gods-

"She hates me," Azriel argued.

"Maybe now," Cassian agreed. "But she didn't before. Didn't you ever notice how you were the person she always wanted to talk to? Whenever she was excited about something, you were who she wanted to share it with."

You heard their feet shift on the hardwood floors, the material creaking with their movement. They must have relaxed a bit, the tension ebbing away as Cassian sighed once again.

"Listen, I'm not telling you to not care about her. I obviously know you want what's best for her. But taking care of her now, because Rhys forbid you from seeing Elain, because your actions set off a tragic event... Don't make this harder for her."

Azriel was quiet for a moment, taking in Cassian's words.

"I don't know where to go from here," he said. He sounded so broken. "I had never been so afraid to lose someone as when I saw you carrying her in that night. And I don't even know why. We were friends, of course, but in that moment I wanted to die. I would have killed everyone in Velaris to know who did that to her. I have never felt like that before. Completely unraveled and uncontrolled."

"What about E-"

"I don't fucking care about Elain!" He sounded frustrated, like he was clenching his fists or pulling on the material of his shirt. "I'm not here because I can't see Elain, I'm not here because of guilt, I'm here because I am terrified that if I take my eyes off of her for a second, she won't be okay."

Your heart gave a traitorous beat in your chest. You didn't know if it was because of his mention of Elain or because his words showed genuine care.

"You all can hate me, can think I'm some selfish bastard who is trying to earn himself back into good graces. A liar who couldn't possibly get over Elain that quickly. All I know is I haven't been able to think about Elain since that night. All I can think about is the way she used to give me snarky comments about my book choices or my training style. The way she used to bring me back an extra treat from her favorite bakery in Velaris. And I want her to have that joy again. I don't care if I am forever hated and feel this soul-shredding guilt in my chest every day for the rest of my life, I need her to survive this."

"Azriel," Cassian breathed sympathetically.

"So I am going to be there for her as much as she allows me. I will sit in that chair every night until she kicks me out and I will sleep instead during the day. I will make sure she is eating and sleeping and conversing with her friends, but don't for a second think I want her to forgive me. She deserves to hate me, Cassian. And I deserve that hate too."

Your heart twinged in your chest. You have always wanted Azriel to care for you, but not like this. Even if his care went past his guilt, you couldn't help but look at his track record, his infatuation with females who needed help, needed saving.

Did you only catch his interest once you were broken too? Did he need you to be injured to be able to find a purpose in you?

No. You wouldn't be his pet project.

You would get through this, you would become yourself again. And you would do it without his help.

"Just give her time. Give yourself time too. There are a lot of emotions happening right now. It can be difficult to navigate and understand."

A wisp curled into your hair - your assigned shadow.

"Hey," you greeted it softly. "I'm okay. You can go back to him."

It ignored you, swirling across your skin instead. Shadow or not, you needed to heal without Azriel. Without his conflicting emotions, his back-and-forth, his guilt, and the overwhelming way it all made you feel. You had to forgive him on your own, and you had to heal from the assault separately as well.

You pulled the covers off of you before standing up from the bed, no longer listening to the conversation happening outside of your room. Instead, you dressed yourself in something other than loungewear for the first time in a week. The clothing was sturdy and protective, yet flexible. Then, you pulled your hair back tightly, wrapping the strands in a ponytail before making your way to the door and swinging it open.

Both males turned to look at your unexpected interruption. Azriel looked like he was about to fall to his knees at the sight of you while Cassian quickly masked his surprise with a smirk.

"Sleeping Beauty is finally awake."

You ignored his teasing. "I'd like to start training again. Today."

Cassian’s brows rose at your statement. “Think you’re ready to go up against me already, sweetheart?”

You scoffed. “I’ve had like five lessons, Cass. I’ve never been ready to go up against you.”

He ignored your unwillingness to play along. “Were you thinking of joining Valkyrie training or doing one-on-one?”

Azriel shifted at the question. Valkyrie training would involve his presence at times, no doubt. From the sound of it, he had been helping some of the other priestesses plenty. He really did have a thing for helping broken females.

“One-on-one. At least at first. At a certain point, it could be good to transition to a group… If that’s alright with the others.”

“I don’t see it being a problem. Do you, Az?” Cassian slammed a hand down on his brother’s shoulder, the sound echoing in the hallway.

Azriel grimaced at the hit, but he didn’t move Cassian’s grip. “No, you should join whenever you feel ready.”

You nodded, not meeting his stare. Instead, you kept your head high and focused on Cassian. “So… are you free today?”

“Tonight,” he corrected. “Meet me up in the training ring around 9. Or I can come get you-“

“I can meet you up there.”

“Alright.” He gave you a nod, shaking Azriel’s shoulder in a farewell, before taking a step back. He left with a call over his shoulder, “Be ready to sweat!”

It was quiet in the hall as his footsteps faded in your ears. Azriel stood still, but you could feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to lead the situation.

You swallowed, turning slightly to finally meet his eye. He stood up a little straighter.

“I need to borrow one of your daggers for training.”

Your voice was not harsh, but it did not hold its past warmth when you addressed him. His brows scrunched in confusion, and slight concern, at your request.

“Why do you need a dagger?”

You nonchalantly pointed to your throat. His eyes trailed the silvery scar before meeting your own once again. He shuffled on his feet, biting his lip in hesitation.

You interrupted his train of thought before things got too awkward. “I need one that is similar to that night. I’d like to practice with it. Make sure I don’t freeze in the future.”

It had never been like this with him. Bland, to-the-point, methodical. Before, your conversations had been filled with yours and his interests, some banter, and always happiness. Even when one of you were down, it was never this empty.

And you could tell by Azriel’s hesitation that he didn’t like the idea of you using one of his daggers - either for the specific purpose of confronting your trauma or just using it at all. Maybe he didn’t want to share his weapons with anyone. After all, he’d only ever shared one with Elain-

“Okay.” His voice was quiet, and he licked his lips before taking in a breath. “Do you want to pick out which one you’d like to use?”

You nodded, and he signaled for you to follow him, assumedly to his room.

You had only been in his space once before. About a month ago, you had borrowed a book from him about the history of the Night Court. When you had knocked to leave the book by his door, he had told you to come in, taking a break from the paperwork at his desk to chat with you about the text.

That felt like so long ago.

His room now was in more disarray than that last time. His sheets were rumpled, presumably from him jumping out of bed when he had heard you in the hall the night before. Weapons were discarded on his nightstand, one peaking out from underneath his pillow. Documents were strewn across his desk, both organized and haphazardly placed, pens of different colors scattered across the pages.

The entire room smelled like him, and it was almost like being hugged in a warm blanket. Despite what had happened, your body still associated his scent with comfort. You wanted to hit yourself, to knock the senseless reaction out of your mind.

"Over here," he called, walking over to a cabinet on the far end of his room. He unlocked it and opened the doors to reveal a wide range of sharp objects, immaculately displayed and taken care of. He eyed them, and you noticed his gaze turn briefly to the scar on your neck before he cleared his throat. "Choose any you'd like."

You stepped close to the cabinet, fingers reaching out to graze across some of the hilts. Many of these were beautiful, you had to admit. You didn't want beautiful, though. You needed one that would help you conquer your fear.

To the right of the top shelf, sat a longer dagger that glinted silver from the moonlight casting in through the windows. The hilt was a dark charcoal, a leathery texture wrapping around the handle before sharp edges shot out underneath the blade. They looked like frozen waves turned black under midnight, devastating and destructive. Your finger stroked one carefully, and you felt Azriel stiffen beside you.

"This one."

He was quiet. You turned to face him, dropping your hand from the dagger. "May I take it?"

"That one," he paused, "has been used in many... harrowing interrogations."

You shrugged. "Then it will do its job."

He only looked at you. "You may take whatever you need."

The words held more than just permission to take the dagger. You refused to acknowledge the vulnerability from him, though, to acknowledge his willingness to please you, and instead reached forward toward the nightmarish weapon.

"Thank you," you said, grip tight around the hilt. He gave you a nod, and then you were turning on your heel, leaving the room before he could utter another word.

Dagger in hand, you made your way back to your room. You gripped it as hard as you could, memorizing the feel of your muscles straining.

Those muscles saved you and would save you again.

As you tensed your fingers harder and harder, you let the fear and sadness in your veins transform into something different, something near exhilarating: anger.

You were angry. And you would use that anger to get through this.

No matter who it needed to be aimed at.

#azriel angst #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel/reader #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you

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miirohs · 14 days

Text

moon, 12:04 am [l.m.h]

pairing: Husband!Lee Minho x Fem!Reader wc: 0.7k cw: n/a an: yall am i famous yet. also stream offonoff!!! cause their music is such a vibe!! i should not be awake at 2 in the morning!!!

“Min…?” You whined, rubbing your face into the crook of your arms as you heard quiet creaks across the floorboards.

It was dead silent, aside from the occasional rustling, a warm hand reaching out to run itself through your hair. His fingers scratched your scalp, and you sighed. You could hear Pickles meowing, and you could imagine him pawing at Minho right now, begging for some of his attention as well.

“What are you doing on the floor baby?”

You curled up, bringing your arms up to shield your face as you felt him lean over you, tie dangling over your cheek. Pickles was now poking you, trying to dig into your sides.

“Aww, you’re awfully tired, did all that overthinking finally tire you out?” He huffed, crouching right next to you as you watched him through glossy eyes, hands leaving your head.

“What time is it?”

“It’s four minutes after twelve, I think.”

You jolted up, adrenaline suddenly running through your body, head colliding with his outreached hand. Forcing your head to turn to the clock that hung on the wall, you blearily looked for the confirmation of what he had said. Pickles looked at the both of you, slipping onto your lap in an attempt for some form of cuddles..

You suddenly felt cold on the floor as you read the numbers the hands pointed to, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Guilt washed over you, the realization of unfinished chores waiting to be finished hitting you.

“Oh god, Minho- I’m so sorry, i must have lost track time playing with Pickles, and you know how its been with the whole apartment as of late-”

“You’re doing it again.”

You stopped speeding through your thoughts, stomach dropping as you looked at him.

He was just as beautiful, if not a little disheveled. His coat had been long abandoned, now wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. His hair stuck out in all sorts of directions, but the little glimmer in his eyes hadn’t been lost to the tiring office environment of his life.

“I’m doing what?”

“Rambling.”

The heat rose in your cheeks, and you looked down at the wooden floors, mapping out where you had previously been a couple moments.

“Y/n. Baby?”

You finally looked up, scooting closer into his vicinity.

“It’s cute when you do it,” He yawned, kneeling next to you, “act all worried. You don’t need to be apologizing because you didn't do anything wrong.” He pursed his lips, offering a hand to gently pull you closer to him.

“What do you wanna ask me baby? I can tell you have something to say,” He teased. You cleared your throat. “Why were you so late? I thought you’d be coming home early today.’

“I would’ve come home sooner, but Chan-hyung wanted me to stay back for something, then the bus got late so I had to take a taxi home.” He sighed and frowned, running his hand up and down your back as he held you close to him. Pickles climbed into his lap, purring as Minho finally pet him.

“Sounds like you had quite the day.” You whispered, muffled as you were pressed up against him, hand on his chest, “more so than me.”

"Yeah, it was a bit hectic," He admitted with a small chuckle,"but it was all worth it to come back home to you, and you too, Pickles." Pickles meowed, as if acknowledging that he had been recognized by Minho.

You leaned into his embrace, his lips pressing against your forehead as he kissed you tenderly. The familiar warmth of his lips sent shivers down your spine, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice soft as he pressed his face against the crown of your head.

“I love you more,” You whispered as he slipped his hands around you, surprising you as he lifted you off the floor. He carried you with ease, retracing old steps as he made his way down the hall, towards your bedroom.

As he push you down on the bed, he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips.

“I'll be right back in bed once I finish changing.”

“Don’t take too long,” You stared, watching him linger in the light of your bathroom door.

“Night baby,” He said softly, grinning as Pickles jumped up, curling up right next to you, “sleep well."

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

Text

mural

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Marking

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, some grinding, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: possibly all over the place and the last one! *relieved(?) sobbing* (not proofread)

It’s the first time in a very long time that Miguel is looking in the mirror and doesn’t like what he sees. It’s not about his body really, more about what you left on him… what’s now fading.

You mark him up to your heart's content every time you’re together since he’s never in anything but his suit, all his parts are covered, including your favorite spot; his neck. He tells you they’re a bit of a nuisance. Sure, he never takes off his suit but now he has to worry about it. He’s said this to you more times than he can count but you never listen, and thank god you don’t because he secretly loves them.

Yet for some reason, you seem to have listened to him the last time he told you. You haven’t marked him up in weeks. All his love bites are now fading and he never realized how empty his skin is. He’s in the bathroom and you’re sitting on the bed, he closed the door to inspect his body, secretly admiring the art you leave on his skin but a frown rose to his face, and has stayed there since he realized that almost all of them were gone. His fingertips run over the faint red splotch on his neck and a shiver runs through him.

He needs more. He needs you to mark him up again. He walks out of the bathroom and just watches you on your phone. You don’t look up at him, “You took a while in there! Is it safe for me to go in?” You laugh at your own joke and finally look up when he doesn’t laugh with you. “Are you okay?” You put your phone down and sit up, giving him your full attention and his heart warms at the action.

He weighs his options for a bit. He could come right out and admit that he was lying all those times he told you not to mark him up, that he doesn’t like it… or he could seduce you into giving him more… He chooses the ladder. He takes a deep breath, letting his chest expand and rolling his shoulders back, something that always gets your heart racing. He cracks his neck and lets his eyes roll back with the action before looking back at you with a smile. “I want you, sweetheart.”

He’s laying it on thick, giving you the best ‘fuck me’ eyes he has, and using one of your favorite nicknames. It’s working. He watches your thighs press together for a moment as a wide smile splits your face. “Yeah?” You ask, already crawling to the edge of the bed, where he stands. You let your legs hang over the edge, beside his as you rest your hands on the band of his sweatpants, still smiling up at him. Just the look in your eyes has him hardening in his sweats. Your eyelids flutter once his bulge starts to push the fabric outward, almost touching your face as it grows.

He’s still just watching you, your eyes are on his, giving him an evil look of promise, that you’re going to completely ruin him. Once he’s fully hard his clothed dick is pressing into your cheek and you have to actively avoid rubbing your face into it. You’re not crazy it’s just- you love it so much. Your head tilts into his crotch subconsciously and he takes a sharp breath, it trembles as he exhales. Your eyes are still on his, growing increasingly hazy and your legs start trying to press into each other. He makes a move.

His hands press onto your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, lying in the middle of the mattress. His hands then cup the back of your thighs, lift your spread legs onto the bed, and push you up to the backboard. You’re clawing at him frantically, panting and trying to pull him up so you can connect your lips with his. You’re whining into his mouth in a way that’d have him thinking you’ve been needing him silently for hours. His hands rest beside your head, cradling it as he shoves his lips against yours, a deep groan building in his chest at how soft your life feels against him. His hips drop to yours, earning a soft moan from both of you when his dick presses into your pussy.

One hand leaves your head to hold your hips in place as he grinds against you, angling his bulge so it’s bumping your clit with every thrust. You have to detach from his lips to let out a gut-wrenching moan that he responds to with a low, breathy whine. “Fuck.” He grits out through his teeth, he needed you more than he realized. His hand comes to your underwear, pulling them down with one hand as you wiggle your hips and pull his sweatpants down, over his ass and he takes them the rest of the way with his hand as you wiggle your panties off your legs.

He’s about to climb back up your body but instead sits back on his legs and yanks his shirt over his head. You’re about to do the same but instead, he just grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, instantly letting go once his lips are on yours again. He pulls away for a moment to breathe and mutters “No time. Need you.” against your lips before diving in again. His need for you has only doubled every minute he’s with you, overtaking all his thoughts aside from getting his dick inside your addictive pussy.

His hand is lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in without a second thought. You gasp painfully at the stretch and your hands dig into his biceps. “Miguel—!” Your words cut off with a shaky moan, half in pleasure and half in pain. He whines and ducks into your neck, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, amor. I- wasn’t thinking. I’m-” He’s panting shakily into your neck and his muscles are tense, almost shaking in your hands. You’re able to peek at where his face is resting at the base of your neck and you can see his brows pulled as tight as his shut eyes.

You fight the smile that spreads over your face but it breaks through and he can somehow feel it. “Stop laughing at me.” He grunts into your neck and you giggle, hurting the both of you as your pussy squeezes on his cock. It doesn’t burn as much, growing wetter with how Miguel’s trying to hold back his whimpers against your neck. Your hips tilt up to him, sucking in the last bit of his cock and getting a tortured moan from Miguel. “Please don't.” His words are shaky as they fall from his lips.

You smile and a hand comes to the back of his head, he leans into it like a cat. “I’m ready, baby.” You use the most alluring voice you can muster and feel his body twitch over yours before he starts thrusting into you slowly. It’s incredible, his dick stretching you so wide your entire pussy is a livewire, no matter where he’s touching you it sends a shock through your entire body. You feel like you can feel the veins of his cock sliding against your walls as he thrusts into you at a shockingly slow pace. He’s holding back for you, a bit traumatized by hurting you while lost in his desperation.

You’re soaking him, coating him in your slick, and creating a lewd sound when his cock sinks into you. “M-miguel.” Your whine pulls his head out of your neck and his eyes are frantically searching your face, worried that he hurt you again. You give him a soft knowing look before biting your lip shyly. “You can go f-faster.” You pulse around him uncontrollably as you speak, your entire body desperate for him. His hips stutter against you, like his body is jumping at the opportunity but his mind is still unsure. You can see it in his eyes, he gives you a gentle, ‘Are you sure’ kind of questioning look. You kiss his lips so softly he’s not sure if he imagined your lips touching his or not, before nodding at him as you pull away.

He breathes out something like a sigh of relief before plunging into you, thrusting so hard and deep that his hips create a slapping sound against yours and you can feel his cock bump into your cervix. Your legs raise to his hips, wrapping around him to hold him deep in place. You’re letting shocked moans spill from your lips as he begins to fuck into you, short, strong thrusts that force painful whimpers out of your chest.

Your eyes are shut tight, trying to handle the arousal of his pace before exposing yourself to the arousal of seeing the look on his face. You take the best deep breaths you can in your condition and open your eyes only to be met with his adam’s apple. His head is directly above yours but instead of looking at you, he seems to be focused on the bedframe. You assume it’s a stalling or distraction tactic and say nothing. You’re pretty content with the sight; his neck flexing and adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to hold his moans in.

You’re tempted to suck pretty marks into his skin, leaving him red, purple, and sore. You want to see him pull at his collar the next morning because his neck is too sensitive for the fabric rubbing against his skin. You want to make him so sensitive that you can just run your fingers over his neck and he’s fattening inside his pants. You want it so bad… but he doesn’t so you calm yourself. You whimper as you lean up into his neck. He gasps, shocked when your lips press into the hot skin of his neck, and lets out a broken whimper when all you do is press a slow kiss to it. “Can you— please.” You assume he was going to tell you to stop because he thought you were going to suck. So you keep going.

His whimpers grow more frequent and frustrated the longer you press kisses onto his neck until he finally pulls back. He cups your jaw with one hand, pulls you away from his neck, and looks down at you. “Why aren’t you-” His hips grind into you slower than before, relishing the way he feels when he’s deep inside you before pulling back out. “You’re not—?” He breathes out a shaky and frustrated sigh. “You don’t want to?” He sounds pained, and offended now. Your hips stop flexing into his although his hips keep grinding into yours. His eyes are penetrating deep into yours like he’s searching for an answer but you don't even know the question. You rest a hand on his hips, attempting to slow them but he lets out a soft noise of protest instead.

“What is it, Miggy?” His thrusts stutter and he almost collapses on you. “I like it.” His eyes close and his hips slow further, and this slower pace is somehow worse. He’s dragging against your walls, teasing every nerve he touches. “I like this too, baby? Are you okay?” He groans and blankets you in his weight, dropping his body to yours. You can feel his heart racing in his chest, beating hard into his ribcage and his head is buried in your neck, shaking from side to side. “No.” You don’t like his vagueness, it’s worrying. You push at his shoulder gently. “Flip us over, Miguel.”

He does so without question but regrets it once you pull off his cock. He’s gasping and reaching for you the moment he feels the cold air on his dick but you’re already out of reach. “I’m gonna get back on, don’t worry. I want you to sit up for me, sweetheart.” His heart skips a beat from having your favorite nickname directed to him and complies. He sits up, his cock glistening and bobbing between his legs, red, and painfully hard for you.

You climb into his lap and love the way his entire body leans into you for a kiss as you sink onto him. You comb your fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him as you kiss him slowly. Your current theory is that he’s a bit too worked up, too desperate to voice what he wants properly so you’re trying to fix it. You pull back and smile at his hooded eyes. “Can you talk to me, handsome?” His hips twitch up into you with a gasp at the petname before a low whine of frustration.

It’s his ego that’s getting in the way, that and a bit of embarrassment. He doesn’t want to outright admit that he’s been bluffing about the kisses, that he actually craves them day in and day out. He wants you to catch on but you’re just not. “I want more.” Upon meeting your blank stare Miguel hesitantly tilts his head to the ceiling, baring his neck for you, showing what he wants. “I want you to- They’ve all faded.” His voice breaks down to a whine, cracking on the last word and it’d break your heart if what he’s saying wasn't so erotic.

He knows you finally understand because you gush and twitch around him. He grunts at the added slick and grips your hips again while he grinds up into you. You watch his adam’s apple drop in a sigh of relief as he slides into the depths of you. Your mouth is on him before you can process how badly you want to bite into his skin. He moans and his hand is behind your head in an instant, holding you in place and gripping into your hair. His fingers tighten their hold once your tongue peaks out from your lips and licks over his skin so gently it almost tickles, then you suck, harshly and as hard as you can.

His eyes roll back and pleasure explodes in his stomach, stemming from your lips throughout his entire body. His hand on your hip tightens with the one in your air as he shakily thrusts upward, trying to fuck you while you mark him up, but you pull away. Your eyes are hazy and fixed on his next with shuddering breaths falling from your lips. “Is that okay? Don't- Don’t wanna cover you.” He can tell that's a lie by the way your eyelids and pussy flutter at the thought. He stays silent, waiting for you to look at him, to see how badly he wants this.

Your eyes meet his and you squeeze on his involuntarily, you’ve seen this look once before, in your own eyes when Miguel fucked you in front of a mirror. “You want more?” You ask, low and timid in case you’re misreading his desperation. Your worries are assuaged by the insistent, and guttural moan he lets out while nodding frantically at you. You don’t question him further, you just dive in.

You grip the back of his neck and pull him to you, latching your lips to his pulse point instantly. You let your soft lips part over his skin and suck. You can feel the vibrations under your lips as he moans out praises to you, his hips grinding into you languidly. His dick is currently an afterthought to the way your lips feel on his neck. You release him with a soft pop and kiss over the area a few times before moving to your next target. You’re hitting all his most sensitive spots, you have them memorized, stored in the back of your head for moments like this.

His mouth is open in a perpetual moan, going silent when you suck especially hard on a certain spot. You’re destroying him. He hasn’t realized how sensitive he’d gotten in all your neglect but every kiss feels like a lightning bolt through his soul. You’re affecting him in a way he never knew was possible. You’re like a madwoman on him, moaning and groaning into each lovebite, kissing over some while licking over others. He can feel that distinct pit of pleasure growing in his stomach but he ignores it, anything to keep you on him, kissing and biting him like this.

He thinks he’ll be able to hold on, to keep his orgasm at bay with the stimulation you’re giving him but you can already feel his muscles pulling in, tensing, and jumping as he tries to avoid the action. You lick a stripe up his marked-up neck before pulling away to bounce on him, giving his cock some stimulation for when he cums but he stops you. “You’re- Is that—?” His eyes are hazy and begging. “Can I have more?” You kiss him a bit roughly, biting and licking at his lips like you’re still giving hickeys. It’s making his head spin, he doesn’t know when the dynamic switched like this. Now he’s the one begging you, pleading with you to touch him in the way he likes. You’ve got him under your thumb, you control him and you never even asked for it. He just gave himself to you.

He’s right on the edge now. You’re bouncing in his lap gently, probably subconsciously, chasing your own pleasure with his body. You collapse onto his chest, your face on his collarbones and you bite. Not a hickey or a lovebite. You just straight up bite into him. And it has him cumming in seconds.

His shut tight, his lids pressed painfully shut as his hands press your body into his as best he can. He plants his feet into the mattress and fucks into you at a brutal pace. It’s out of order and shak, his hips stuttering with his orgasms and his entire body folding in with his heavy, impassioned moans. It’s enough to push you over.

You moan raggedly into his chest, hugging your arms around his neck as you whine against his skin. Your hips grind into him on their own accord, only adding more layers to the pleasure that’s surrounding your body. Miguel moans your name at the way you’re choking his cock and enticing his load to drown your pussy. He’s covering your insides with his seed as you lick over his bite, it’s half an apology but more because you know how it’ll affect him. His thighs tense and begin to shake before his legs give out, collapsing back to the bed and forcing him to succumb to your pace, a slow grind as you come down from your high.

He’s panting beneath and with you, trying to catch his breath from the assault of pleasure you just bombed him with. You’re feeling the same way, a bit bad for how his neck looks and you run a fingertip over a trail you left from the base of his throat to his adams apple. He shivers against you and kisses the top of your head before lifting your hips and letting his cock and cum slide out. He watches you drip into the bedsheets, and how you shiver with goosebumps as you leak.

He kisses you again, on the lips, and softly this time before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

He had planned to get a towel for you, to clean you up all nice a sensually but he catches his reflection in the mirror. You’ve wreaked havoc on his neck, he’s covered in so many bruises he almost looks like he’s got a blackout tattoo. It looks like you’ve painted a mural on his neck, just for him. His heart warms further at your bite mark. His favorite thing about it isn’t that it’ll last longer than the lovebites, no. He loves that he can tell it’s your teeth that we’re stuck into him. He loves that he’s been marked by you.

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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barbiedragon · 17 days

Text

Tender is the Flesh

Dune: Feyd-Rautha x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 2.0k

For anon request: Feyd challenges Paul to a duel, and Paul’s fiancee begs Feyd not to kill him, offering up herself

Warnings: Dub-con, shaving, fingering, oral (m receiving), inkpie (many thanks to @valeskafics for this), marking, biting, character death, mention of the harpies, mention of mild blood play, reader is a Corrino but no physical description is given

You offer yourself to save Paul’s life

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

Fear seized through your body. Every nerve, every hair stood on edge as Feyd loomed over Paul. Why had Paul agreed to fight this brutal, ruthless man? The sharp blade pressed against your betrothed's throat, blood welling over the edges. The thick ruby droplets falling onto the floor below. His death was imminent. One swift move, and he would drop dead onto the floor.

“No!” you screamed, surprising yourself with the sheer force and volume of your voice.

Feyd turned his gaze toward you, a twisted smile curling on his lips.

“Do you plead for his life?” he hissed.

“Please spare him,” you whimpered, sinking to your knees as hot tears streamed down your face.

“A life is not given freely. What will you give to me in return?” he questioned, pressing the blade closer against Paul’s throat, forcing a garbled cry from the man. You had hoped your standing as one of Emperor Shaddam’s daughters would be enough, but you should have known better.

“Me, I will give you me, na-Baron,” you sniffled, swiping your hand underneath your running nose.

“What makes you think I would be interested in you? Your body must stink of his touch.”

You lifted your face, trying to steady yourself. “He has never touched me, na-Baron.”

“Most interesting, seems a fool to waste a beauty such as yourself,” Feyd said as he lowered his blade.

“I will give you all of me, na-Baron, if you spare his life,” you promised. If this offer were accepted, you would never see Paul again, but you would sleep well at night knowing that he lived.

“Now, that is a most tempting offer. She has saved your life, Atreides. Run, and if I see you again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat. And I’ll be sure to do it over her, so she’s bathed in your blood,” Feyd chuckled.

Paul gazed back at you, longing and thanks written in his blue eyes. You offered him a soft smile, letting him know you would be ok. His anger roared through the hall as Feyd ordered his harpies to drag you away. You squirmed in their tight, unforgiving grasp as they sneered, pulling you to Feyd’s quarters with their sharp nails digging into the tender flesh of your arms.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you begged, voice thick with tears.

“We will not harm you,” one sneered.

“We will prepare you for him,” another smirked.

“We will make you pleasing to him,” the third snickered.

They pulled you into a dimly lit room with a black bed in the corner. The room was stark and drab, much like Giedi Prime itself. The eerie, bald women began to tear at your clothing.

“I can undress myself,” you protested, twisting in their grasp.

They ignored you, slapping your hands away as they shed you until you stood bare under their cold, black eyes. Their lips curved into cruel smiles as their long fingers and sharp nails raked over your skin. Their slender fingers began to rub a soothing, fragrant oil onto your skin. The scent of roses filled the air, doing little to drown out the rancid smell pouring from their black mouths. You almost choked on the stench from their rotting breath as their faces pressed closer to yours, their teeth snapping.

“Oh, he will enjoy you very much.”

“So soft, so smooth.”

“His teeth will sink into you perfectly.”

You wrapped your arms around your chest as you shivered, tears dribbling down your cheeks. You squeezed your wet eyes shut tightly as their hands moved between your legs, stroking you and applying the oil to your most intimate of areas. What had you done? Regret sank in deep. Your head snapped up as Feyd entered the room, his chest splattered with blood, and his black mouth twisted into an unsettling grin.

“You promised you would let him go,” you wailed, believing he had slaughtered Paul.

One of the harpies slapped you sharply across the face, splitting your lip. The metallic taste of blood sharp on your tongue. Feyd stormed forward, grabbing her wrist before shoving her into a wall.

“She is not yours to touch in such a manner,” he boomed, his voice shaking the room. He loomed over you, tenderly taking hold of your chin as his thumb swiped the crimson droplets onto his pale skin. Your eyes widened as you watched him press the digit to his lips, suckling it clean. He lewdly licked his lips before clasping your chin again, bending down to kiss you. Open-mouthed and wet, borderline obscene as his tongue swirled in the warm cavern of your mouth. You cursed yourself for enjoying it.

“Leave us!” he roared, and the harpies quickly scattered from the room, leaving you alone with him. “I kept my promise, Atreides lives, I had to quench my thirst, however. One of his former soldiers bore the brunt of my rage.”

Your lower lip wobbled as you gave a slight nod. “I understand, na-Baron.”

He lifted your arms, his inky eyes roaming over your bare skin. “You are very pretty. It’s a shame Atreides wasn’t able to enjoy you. But I will not be so wasteful. Lay down on the bed.”

You felt frozen, unable to move your feet, so Feyd simply spun you around and sent you stumbling toward the bed with a sharp slap to your bare backside. You lay down on your back, your flesh prickling from the cold and anticipation. You shifted, trying to peer and twist your neck to see what he was doing when you heard furniture shifting. A black table rested at the end of the bed. The frozen feeling from earlier dissipated as you felt ready to jump out of your skin and run, screaming from the room. Feyd stood at the foot of the bed with a straight razor in his hand.

“No need to look so frightened, little mouse; I’m only going to prepare you for our fucking,” he laughed, nudging your thighs apart with his boot.

You held frightfully still as he dampened your skin, still shimmering from the oil, before carefully dragging the razor over the silken patch of curls between your thighs. Each scrape of the blade set your teeth on edge, yet an odd excitement curled deep in your belly. The slow drag of the blade and the soft tsschh that followed as it sliced through the follicles were oddly soothing and alluring. The thought that he could quickly slash through your tender, delicate flesh throbbed at the back of your mind. He worked meticulously and skillfully until all the hair was removed, leaving you as smooth as his head. He wiped you clean with a moist, warm towel before repeating the procedure to your legs and arms. Not a single nick, not a single cut, just precision as he rid you of your body hair. You noted the Harkonnens had none, bare and smooth as marble statues.

A staggering Oh fell from your lips as his thumb grazed down your freshly shaved mound, an almost hungry look in his black eyes. “Beautiful, little mouse,” he mumbled while his thumb circled your swollen clit. You felt sensitive and exposed, incredibly vulnerable under his intense stare. The worst part was…you enjoyed it.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, embarrassed, as your hands flew to your face to cover your chagrin.

He chuckled before dipping a long, thick finger inside you. “I have my pets for that sort of debauchery. Though pain and pleasure often go hand in hand, you might even enjoy it, little mouse.” He took hold of your hands, making you sit up before he began to remove his leather combat outfit.

“Al…allow me to help you,” you wavered, slowly standing, your legs quivering beneath you. You didn’t feel quite so shy anymore.

Your tiny hands moved across his broad chest, undoing the clasps and buckles, slowly stripping each piece away before tugging off his heavy boots. You knelt at his feet, peering up between your lashes as you took in the sight of him. A fine marble statue brought to life—utter perfection. Your fingers spanned across his firm, defined abdomen as you drank him in. You leaned in to trace your tongue around the tip of his cock as your fingers traced along his rigid flesh, feeling the veins pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You are full of surprises, little mouse,” he groaned, pale fingers fisting in your hair.

You let out a meek giggle before your mouth enveloped him, your lips stretched wide and obscene as you swallowed him down. Your jaw ached, but you persisted, bobbing your head while your tongue swirled around him, and arousal pooled under you. A warm spurt surprised you as a thick, inky discharge leaked from the corners of your mouth. He reached down to cup your face, admiring the dark mess he had left behind on you. His pure little mouse now tainted by him.

Once he was on the bed, he guided you to mount him, holding your hips with his massive hands as you slowly sank onto his cock. A burning stretch. He had been correct. A little pain mixed with pleasure. It was delicious. He allowed you time to adjust before instructing you to move your hips. You marveled at how he let you be in control while he squeezed every inch of your bare flesh. It felt delicious, almost as if you might be split in two.

His fingers pinched your erect nipples before his hand slid down your belly. He sought your engorged clit, rubbing the tender bud as you squeezed around his cock. You tossed your head back, screams of pleasure rolling from you. The pressure snapped, making your thighs quiver as you reached a delicious peak, or what you assumed to be. Amusement etched across Feyd’s face as he lifted his fingers to his mouth to lick clean while he filled you to the brim with his dark seed. The sticky black aftermath coated your thighs and shaved cunt.

You felt exhausted, your limbs limp as jelly as you climbed off him and collapsed at his side, not caring that you were dripping with him. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close.

“Did you enjoy that, little mouse?”

“I did, so very much,” you admitted, tucking your face into his side. You felt tiny in his embrace—a tiny mouse in the palm of a monster. Surprisingly, you didn’t mind it. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your lower back, lulling you to sleep.

“Sleep, my darling little mouse,” Feyd whispered in your ear, his voice coiling around you like a snake as his hand settled on the swell of your stomach.

A week passed, and you hardly left his room, happy to serve at his pleasure and give in to yours. You mewled as his finger stroked your clit, or he had you ride his massive, muscular thigh as you left your slick behind, shaking in the aftermath. His tongue would dance you to the edges of a blissful high with your knees bent back to your shoulders, leaving you splayed wide for him to devour. And devour he did. He claimed every inch of your flesh. How you whined and begged for more when his fingers sank into your tight pucker.

Purple bruises blossomed against your skin as his teeth left their mark behind. It was a decadent, wicked thrill to see your blood dripping from his inky mouth, the crimson, and the black mixing together as it dribbled down his pale chin. You enjoyed the way he bent and twisted your body, fearing you might break, but you never did. You felt smug as you sat in his lap, warming his cock, as he gave his harpies and servants instructions. Jealousy apparent in their beady little eyes.

When the time arrived, you left his quarters, donning a dress of black silk and hooked on his arm as he escorted you to a banquet held in your honor. His special little mouse and soon-to-be wife, and with the passage of time, your belly would soon swell. You found yourself unbothered by Paul’s head mounted on the wall like a prized trophy. You simply sank into your seat and pressed your lips to Feyd’s curved knuckles. You no longer regretted your choice.

#fae's writing #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #house harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune fanfiction #dune smut #dune imagine #feyd oneshot #feyd smut #feyd fanfiction #feyd imagine #fem!reader #harkonnen x reader

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succubusmunson · 2 years

Text

I Can Make You Scream

Pairing: Ghostface!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: You ask Eddie to do something new in the bedroom and he is very up for it

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), slight perv!eddie, rough sex, cnc, somno, mask kink, knife play, dirty talk, boot riding, slight dub con, degradation, praise, slapping. hair pulling, name calling (slut, whore, pathetic), spitting, dacrypfillia, oral (m receiving), ball play, facial, cum play, spanking, choking, unprotexted sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, little aftercare

WC: 3.8K

(I have never done something like this before, enjoy!)

Tonight was movie night for Eddie and you, it happened once a week and neither of you would miss it. It was your turn to host and pick the movie and you of course picked a horror one. “Scream” was your favorite movie and you were about to introduce Eddie to it. “Listen this is one of the best horror movies to be made, I don’t want to hear any complaints coming from you.” Eddie was a picky movie watcher, always putting in his two cents when you never asked. You put the movie on and snuggled up real close to him. “Just try and enjoy this one, okay?” He nodded his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The opening sequence of the movie was playing and you kept looking over to Eddie’s face, trying to read it. Ghostface appeared on screen and it was as if a lightbulb turned on. “Wait,” you got up and paused the movie before turning back to Eddie. “I have a thought..”

Eddie sat up and gestured for you to continue, “I’m all ears, baby.” Suddenly, you were nervous. Why were you nervous? Eddie was literally the most non-judgmental person in the world. I guess your idea was just making you feel very vulnerable since it was super kinky, even for you two. When it came to sex, Eddie and you were beyond adventurous. Before Eddie though, you weren’t as kinky, but he brought it all out. Maybe this could just be another thing to add to the list.

“So, you see the mask right?” You pointed at the television with one hand while the other twisted the end of your shirt, trying to distract your nerves. “Well, what if you were to like, wear it during sex?” You had a thought like this before, reading some taboo/erotica novels that involved something called CNC. The thought of you ever trying it never crossed your mind until tonight.

A smirk grew on Eddie’s face as he stood up and grabbed both of your hands, “Like me play the killer?” The smirk meant he liked the idea, thank God. You nodded your head at him, “we could plan something out. I don’t wanna know when it’s going to happen. I like the idea of a surprise.” Was this really going to happen? Were you really going to live out your Ghostface fantasy? You couldn’t help the throb that formed between your thighs.

“So it would be consensual, but not?” Eddie looked confused at the part, not fully understanding.

“Yeah, just acting like it’s not.” You pressed your body against his, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist, “gives the both of us more adrenaline.” The two of you talked it over more, establishing some details, boundaries, and safe words. Both of you were nervous, but more than anything, you were both excited.

Eddie walked backwards until he softly fell onto the couch, pulling you to straddle him. “Whaddya say we get a little bit of practice in?” You felt the familiar outline of his clothed, hard cock against you and you let out the smallest whimper and nodded your head, rolling your hips against his. “Awe, can you not use your words?” Eddie placed his hands on your waist, slipping his fingers just under your loose shirt. Goosebumps rose in the presence of his fingers, sending a slight shiver down your body. His cock pressed into you more and you wanted, no need, to feel him inside you.

Your hands moved to his pants, quickly undoing the belt. “Practice makes perfect, but right now I need to feel you inside me.” Once the belt was undone and his pants were unzipped, you slipped your hand in and felt his throbbing cock. Eddie hissed at the contact and pulled you in for a heated kiss.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Eddie mumbled against your lips before flipping the top of you over, you now pinned under his body. “I have no complaints about it though.” Tonight was going to be a long night and you were so ready to feel every inch of him.

“C’mon, Eds, need it.” Begging was Eddie’s weakness and he was about to give you everything he had. The movie had now been long forgotten about.

It had been a couple weeks and both you and Eddie had forgotten your little idea, or so it seemed. What you didn’t know was that Eddie couldn’t forget it. He kept thinking back to how nervous you were to ask him to do it and how cute your reaction was when he agreed. Secretly, he had been planning the whole thing. Everything was ready to go, the last thing to do was put the plan into action. To be honest, Eddie had no idea why you were so turned on by the mask and everything, but he was always willing to try something new with you, especially when something was so kinky.

It was late at night and you had the home to yourself. Your parents were off on some trip and Eddie had called earlier to say that band practice was going to be longer tonight. You didn't think much about it, it was normal for that to happen. Instead of just sulking about not being able to see your boyfriend tonight, you turned into bed early. Hopefully tomorrow will be different.

You were in such a deep sleep that you didn’t hear the loud boots coming up the stairs or them making their way into your room. It was quiet, almost too quiet but you were still fast asleep. A cold blade pressed to your skin made you stir a little, worrying him. Your body now positioned to where you were on your back, the blanket off your body, giving him the perfect view of your spread legs and lacy red panties. It’s as if you knew this was going to be happening tonight.

The sight of your panties made him groan behind his mask, he had never seen someone more angelic than you. You were perfect and he couldn’t wait to corrupt you in every way possible. He pressed the blade into your thigh, watching as it made a little indentation in your skin. Trailing the blade higher, he slipped it under your panties, cutting them just the slightest bit. Now, he had a full view of your perfect little pussy and the bit of wetness that shone in the moonlight. God, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you.

A gloved hand traveled up your thigh and jolted you awake. Just as you were about to scream, another hand pressed itself against your mouth, “you make one fucking noise and I’ll make this so much worse for you.” You nodded your head against the hand before it was pulled away. You were a little scared until you looked up and saw the familiar Ghostface mask and you breathed a small sigh of relief. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you let out a giggle until you felt the blade gently pressed against your throat and you noticeably gulped.

He cocked his head to the side, the mask eye level with you. You searched for the brown eyes that you knew too well, but saw only black. “Do you think this is a game?” The knife was pulled away and replaced with a hand. The hand squeezed at your throat and you tried your hardest to act afraid. You were pulled closer to the mask, your face now inches away from it. “I’m gonna fuck you like the stupid whore you are. Maybe, just maybe, depending on how good that sweet pussy is, I’ll show you some mercy and spare your life.”

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Please, I-I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me.” Never did you ever think that you would be begging for your life, even if it was just roleplaying. He grabbed your chin and ran his thumb over your cheek, in a mock sympathy kind of way.

“So desperate to live, are you? I wonder how far you’ll go.” He ran a hand through your hair before pulling at the base, “On your knees.” You quickly followed his instructions, looking up at him with fake fear. “I saw how wet that pussy was when you were just showing it off to anyone,” he slipped his black boot under you, “go on, fuck yourself.”

You were nervous, you had never done anything like this before, but it all seemed so hot. His foot flexed under you and you could feel it against your now swollen clit. It took everything out of you to not let out a moan at the contact.

“Don’t have me waiting all night, you wouldn’t want me to get impatient.” The hand that was still in your hair pulled again and you started to move your hips. It was a weird feeling, the toe of the boot being cool and smooth, but the friction was enough for you to feel good. The more that the foot flexed under you, the more you would grind your hips. You could feel yourself getting wetter, small whimpers leaving your mouth as you held onto his leg to steady yourself.

You heard a chuckle above and you looked up, not stopping your hips. “Does it feel good, slut? Feel good to be rubbing that little clit against my boot?”When you didn’t answer, he placed the knife in his pocket and took his now free hand to slap your face, causing you to moan. “I asked a fucking question.”

“Y-yes, feels s’good.” You never thought you would be into slapping but him doing that sent an electric shock from your head straight down to your pussy.

His gloved hand came and grabbed your cheeks, hooking a thumb in your mouth. “Such a sweet mouth, need to put it to work.” He leaned down a bit and removed his mask just so you could see his mouth. He spit, directly hitting your tongue. “A drooly baby, you better swallow it.” You did as he told, immediately swallowing his spit and letting out a small hum. You kept your mouth open, waiting for what was to come. He took his hand from your cheeks and unzipped his pants, just enough to pull out his hard cock. “I think that my cock deserves some attention.” You had no time to protest, his cock sliding in your wet mouth, hitting the back of your throat. The both of you let out a groan. The feeling of his heavy cock in your mouth added more pleasure to you getting yourself off on his boot.

You kept grinding yourself against his boot as he started to fuck your face. He was timing his thrusts to the way your hips moved. You were so close, so fucking close. Your moans were muffled by his cock and you had him throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Y’gonna cum on my boot like a good slut?” He shoved his cock further down your throat, if that was even possible. You gagged around his cock, causing some tears to flow from your eyes and mess up the leftover makeup you had on. “Would you look at that,” he swiped a thumb over your tears before bringing it to his mouth to lick, “poor baby can’t take my cock, can she?”

That was enough to have you cumming in seconds. You pulled your mouth away from his cock and leaned forward as best as you could. It all came crashing down hard and the moans leaving you were so loud, “Eddie! Fuck, yes.” You couldn’t stop moving your hips, not until you were done making a mess.

“Who the fuck is Eddie?” He pulled your hair to force you to look at him, your breath still ragged. You watched as he moved his boot from under you, your cum dripping off it. “Be a good girl and clean up the mess you made”

You bent down, cleaning it with a piece of clothing before he stopped you. “Use your mouth.” You stuttered to find words and he mocked you, “you made the mess, don’t act shocked.” Wanting to please him, you did as he asked. Your tongue lapped up at the mess and you couldn’t help but let a little whimper at the sweet taste of yourself. “Look at you, nothing but a pathetic little slut. You’re right where you belong; under me.” The way your pussy clenched around nothing from his words was amazing, he was really into this character.

Once satisfied, he pulled you up. You were finally level with him and you noticed those soft lips. Needing to kiss him, you leaned forward only for him to pull his mask back down before throwing you onto the bed. “I-I wanna kiss you?”

He scoffed and moved to straddle your chest, the tiniest bit of his weight pressed into you. “You think I would kiss you? I’m not your boyfriend, slut.” His cock was right at your lips, leaking precum over them. This position was new, but having his cock this close to you had your mouth water. He hooked his thumb in your mouth again before guiding his cock back inside. “So warm for me. I bet your pussy is even warmer, hmm?’” You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, he was making you so needy. His cock throbbed on your mouth and you hummed around him, a groan fell from his lips, muffled by the mask. “Love being a little cockslut, don’t you?”

You tried your best to nod with his cock deep down your throat. He felt so good and heavy in your mouth. It just slides so easily in and out and to hear him groaning above you? Feeling the thick vein on his shaft, just feeling him was so good. Fuck, you could stay like this forever and never complain.

“You know what’s better than having my cock in your mouth?” He pulled it out, a string of your saliva mixed with his precum connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock. “My balls,” you noticed that he had pulled them out and your eyes went wide. “See something you like?” He moved forward, straddling your chest just a bit more. Now, his cock was resting against your forehead and his balls were dangling right in your mouth. “S’good for me, so greedy.” You sucked each ball into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the soft skin. He moaned above you, his hand stroking at his cock. “Wanna cum all over this pretty face.”

He was close to cumming, you could tell by the way his balls tensed up in your mouth. The feeling only made you suck faster, wanting to feel his cum on you. One more suck was all it took to have him shooting his cum all over your face. It was hot and sticky, but you loved it.

“Fuck, that’s it, keep making me cum.” HIs breath was ragged the more you sucked before letting go with a wet pop. “You look so much prettier with my cum covering your face.” What he did next was totally unexpected. He licked up his cum and spit it right into your mouth, watching as you eagerly swallowed every last drop. You not only moaned at the taste of him but at how lewd that act was.

You gulped, not wanting to beg, but you needed something. “Please, please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me. I promise I’ll be good to you.” He chuckled at your begging and moved off of you to strip off his pants and boxers. You noticed your salvia still dripping off his balls and you brought a hand down to rub at your very swollen clit. “M’so wet for you, it’ll be so easy.” You were saying anything at this point.

“You’d let a stranger fuck you to just save your life?” He grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards the edge of the bed, “You really are a pathetic slut, aren’t you?’ Your legs spread out of habit and you swore you heard him moan at the sight of you. “You’re fucking dripping. Is this all for me? Is this because I’m treating you like the whore you are?” Your head nodded before you could even realize what he was saying, you were putty in his hands.

He tapped the hefty tip of his cock against your clit, causing you to slightly jump at the action. His recovery time was impeccable, always so fast. You reached down and grabbed at his cock, holding it still as you grind your pussy against it. “Your cock feels so good. Can’t you feel how ready I am for you?” You watched as he breathed heavier, his cheating rising and falling deeply. The whole thing with you acting scared left the room forever ago, the need for him taken over.

“Gonna take what I give you?” He swatted your hand away before taking his own to guide him into your aching hole. He threw his head back in pleasure as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Your pussy is swallowing me so nicely, might have to keep you around.” He was right, your pussy was made for one cock, his cock, Eddie’s cock.

He slowly pulled out, leaving just the tip in, You clenched around him and let out a broken gasp, “need more.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying your beat to push him back in. The need to feel him deep inside you was too much, all of it was too much but in a good way.

“Oh, I’ll give you more.” He snapped his hips, slamming back in and bottoming out inside you. Your head slammed against the pillow and a scream of his name left your lips, this time he didn’t correct you. “That’s it, let everyone know who is filling this tight little pussy up.” His hands spread your thighs further apart and somehow his cock sunk deeper into you. “Fuck, gonna stretch this pussy out s-so nice.”

There were no coherent thoughts inside your brain, you could only focus on the feeling of him driving his cock in and out of your soaked pussy and the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing off the walls. “Y-you fill me so good, so full.” Your brain was so fuzzy and you felt that familiar tightness bubble up in your stomach again. He noticed it too, noticed the way your legs shook and your back arched up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It came fast, you felt your whole body tense up and cum around his cock. It felt like you couldn’t stop, “t-too much.”

You tried to push him away, but he kept fucking into you. This man was absolutely relentless. “I think you have one more in you, yeah?” He pulled out only to flip you on your stomach and pull your ass into the air. You felt a slap on your ass, and then another one. Each slap sends a shiver up your spine. “Look at you, dripping cum onto the bed.” He swiped a finger up your thigh before popping it under his mask and into his mouth. “So sweet,” he slid back in, his fingers now gripping your hips. It started off slow this time, letting you feel every part of his cock. A hand came around and wrapped around your throat. It squeezed, cutting off a bit of your air. “Mmm, you like this, I can tell. Me choking you made your pretty pussy clench around me.”

“Just like that Ed’s, don’t s-stop.” You bounced against him, meeting him halfway. He pressed his head against your neck, his moans still muffled behind the mask but still loud enough for you to hear. “Please cum in me. Fill me up with it all, want it to be leaking out of me.” He let out an almost growl, snapping his hips faster and shoving your face into the pillows.

“That’s what you want? Just wanna be my little cumslut?” He was getting close, his hips were stuttering and his words were coming out broken. You were close too, your body was reacting in a way you’ve never felt before. Every part of your body was on fire and to add fuel to it, he trailed the hand that was around your throat down your body and began to rub fast circles around your clit.

That was all it took to send your body into a shockwave. Your toes curled and the moans leaving you were borderline pornagraphic. A gush left you and soaked down your legs and made a huge mess on the bed. Your body was working on overdrive and it was like the only sense you had was touch. “Eddie, fuck I-,” it all felt so good that you couldn’t even speak properly.

Eddie was right behind you, slumping over your body as he emptied out inside of you, “milk my fucking cock.” You felt his cum deep inside of you and your body fell forward. Every part of you was sensitive and worn out.

Apparently Eddie wasn’t done, leaning over you to grab the polaroid camera from your nightstand and pulling you up by your hair. “Smile for the camera,” you couldn’t even do that, you were so fucked out.

Eddie pulled out, the sensation making you hiss. “Shh, it’s okay.” He grabbed an old tee shirt off the floor and tried his best to clean you up. You didn’t even notice that he had taken the mask off until you turned your head to look at him. He gave you a gentle smile before walking over to you and pressing a long kiss to your forehead. “You’re fucking amazing.”

You tried your best to laugh before pulling him to lay down with you, “if anyone is amazing it’s you.” Eddie wrapped his arms around you, neither caring that you were both hot and sweaty. “Didn’t know you had that much in you.” Your head rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow down from the adrenaline rush the both of you had just endured.

“Well, I know one thing,” he reached an arm over and grabbed the now fully developed picture he had taken of the two of you, “I’m never getting rid of that mask if that is what it gets you to squirt.” Eddie laughed which made his chest rumble. You both admired the picture before you yawned.

There was no need for covers tonight, the air still hot and sticky with sex. You two just snuggled up together. “Goodnight, Ghostface.” You couldn’t help but giggle at Eddie rolling his eyes.

“Goodnight, baby.” It wasn’t long before you heard and felt his snores, lulling you to sleep. This would definitely be something neither of you forget.

Tagging: @elshifts @rossmccallsqueen @manddoublee @buckleybby @onehotgreasymechanic @plant-hoe69 @aree-you-sirius-rn @nayely45 @pipops

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #ghostface!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things #bee’s st fics

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stargirllanaa · 2 months

Text

Sweet Little Lies -R.C

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, infidelity, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, domestic violence, manipulation, slight mentions of past Dv, seriously Rafe is terrible

Summary: Everything goes downhill once you look through your boyfriends phone.

A/n ✎: Sorry I’ve been gone so long :( I have alot going on in my personal life and it’s been hard to get motivated to write. Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed!!! Btw my request are open again, don’t be shy ;)

Wc: 1.2k

18+ MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

You were sitting on your boyfriend's bed, scrolling through Instagram while waiting for him to return from his shower. You laughed at something your friend sent you until you heard a ‘Ding!’ from Rafe's phone. You were surprised Rafe must have forgotten it; he never left his phone around you after he caught you going through it one too many times, but you ignored it; it was probably his dad or something you had no interest in.

You continued to scroll until you heard another ‘Ding!’ followed by three more. Who could be texting Rafe that many times? As your curiosity rose, you thought to yourself maybe you would just peak, but you knew you had to be quick; every time Rafe saw you even looking at his phone, he got angry, and when you remembered the time he caught you going through his messages, it sent a shiver down your spine.

You gazed at the bathroom door, hearing the water still running, and back to his phone. You quickly grabbed the phone, anxiety heightening as soon as it was in your hands. You tapped the screen, looking down at it in confusion as you read the name of the person texting him.

Sofia.

Your anger and anxiety started to rise as soon as you saw the girl's name. Why would a random girl be texting your boyfriend? What was going on between them? You were about to enter his password when you heard the bathroom door opening. You quickly tossed his phone back to where he had left it, but he noticed it bouncing off the bed and the guilty look on your face.

You sat stiff and played with your hair, pretending nothing had happened, but you couldn't ignore how Rafe looked at you. He lowered his eyebrows, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed; he looked furious.

“What are you doing?” Rafe questioned you as he stalked over to you, towel wrapped around his waist.

He noticed what you were doing, or else he wouldn't be asking you, so there was no point in lying, right?

“Who’s Sofia?” you asked Rafe as you looked up at him through your eyebrows.

You could tell his heart skipped a beat by the way he blankly stared past you as his eyebrows rose. You could also tell the gears in his brain were moving, trying to create a lie; by the way, he stood silently for a moment.

“Why were you going through my phone?” Rafe spat aggressively as he looked back down at you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why does it matter? Do you have something to hide?” You quickly responded, pushing yourself off the bed into a standing position.

Rafe exhaled loudly as he walked over to you; he didn’t want to say too much. Rafe didn't know how much you saw, but he knew that you already knew way more than he wanted you to.

“Here we go with the accusations again..” Rafe muttered, getting closer and closer to you.

But you wouldn't let him intimidate you; you stood your ground.

“Are you going to answer the question?” you asked bluntly, trying not to get too emotional.

Rafe was making it so blatantly clear he was doing something behind your back; he was hiding something. Why not just answer the question if there was nothing to hide? Why did he freak out whenever he saw you looking at his phone? You knew subconsciously he was cheating; you just wanted him to admit it.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to go through my shit?” Rafe hissed, talking with his hands.

“I wouldn't have to if you would stop fucking around!” you snapped, pushing him slightly.

He didn't move, not even a little bit; instead, he wrapped his hand around your upper arm, gripping it tightly in one swift motion, causing you to wince in pain.

“Who are you talking to?” Rafe asked, looking you directly in the eyes. “Huh?” he sneered, shaking you roughly.

You could tell this wouldn't end well; you should have kept your mouth shut and apologized, but how were you supposed to move on and act fine, knowing your boyfriend was probably talking to other girls? That wasn't happening, and you already started this, so it would be pointless not to stand your ground.

“Is there anyone else in the room?” You hissed sarcastically, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp.

This made Rafe even angrier; first, you went through his phone and accused him of doing something he obviously did, and then, to make matters worse, you were being incredibly disrespectful. He started taking fast breaths before letting go of your arm and pushing you roughly, causing you to collide with his dresser, knocking the wind out of you.

You fell to the floor; the push was unexpected, and you hit the dresser so hard it brought tears to your eyes. This wasn't the first time Rafe had hurt you; it wasn't even the first time he hurt you for this reason. But every time he put his hands on you, it still shocked you.

How could someone who claims to love you like to see you in pain?

Rafe stalked over to you, kneeling over you and gripping a hand full of your hair. His eyes narrowed, looking directly into your tearful ones.

“You want this? Don't you?” Rafe accused, trying to make an excuse for how he treats you. “You act like a bitch and then wonder why I have to hurt you,” he said, pulling your hair back, forcing you to look back up at him.

“Do you hurt Sofia too?” you choked out as your tears spilled over; every breath you took was shaky in response to the pain all over your scalp.

Rafe's jaw clenched, a slight smirk painted on his lips; he looked up and back down at you.

“Maybe I don't. Maybe she knows how to fucking act.” Rafe hissed, pulling your head back further, causing your neck to hurt also.

You didn't respond; you just stared at him as your tears continued to run down your face rapidly. You kind of already knew he was cheating, but you didn't know how much it would hurt to hear him basically confirm your suspicions; while also hurting you physically.

“Maybe that's why I have to fuck other people.” Rafe fumed as he got closer to your face.

“Because you are so fucking irritating.” He let go of you with that, but he was still looking down at you with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.

And even though he let go, the pain didn't stop; that's the worst thing anyone has ever said to you. You knew you didn't deserve this, yet every time you told yourself you would leave, you convinced yourself not to.

“You wanted this, remember?” Rafe taunted, “What? Can't take the truth now?”

You brought your knees up to your chest, continuing to cry; you weren't just sad and hurt; you were also so fucking angry, angry with yourself for never having to courage to leave Rafe, angry with him for treating you like this, furious with the world for letting so man men get away with this shit.

“Now move; I need to get in my dresser.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!

Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘cruel world’

#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #dark!rafe x reader #dark!fic #rafe outer banks

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nanamis-baker · 24 days

Text

Bake Date

Summary: You and Nanami attempt to bake your favourite bread.

Pairing: Sorcerer! Nanami x f! reader

Content: Fluff, baking and kneading, suggestive, implied smut at the end | Basically me combining my love for baking and for Nanami :P

WC: 3.3k

A cool autumn breeze swirled around you, sending loose strands of hair whipping against your face. The rhythmic tap of Nanami's shoes was the only sound that cut through the crisp night air. You clutched the paper bag from "Golden Crust" - the golden logo a warm beacon in the twilight. Inside, a small victory awaited.

This wasn't any ordinary bread. It was a celebratory indulgence for You and Nanami – the elusive Herb Focaccia from Golden Crust. The kind that boasted of secret recipes passed down for generations, its aroma a legend in itself. You could already picture the golden-brown crust, flecked with a hint of sea salt. Beneath it, the promise of fragrant herbs - rosemary, thyme, a touch of oregano - swirled in your imagination. Every bite was whispered of a symphony of flavours, dancing on your tongue.

Golden Crust's Herb Focaccia was a rare treat. They baked it in small batches, and it vanished from the shelves quicker than a blink. But tonight, after a hard-fought victory, you and Nanami were the lucky ones, clutching a piece of that culinary magic. It was a small celebration in itself.

A cool autumn breeze sent a shiver down your spine. Sensing your discomfort, Nanami shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. "Thanks," you mumbled, glancing up at him “But won’t you get cold?”. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as he shook his head. "We're almost home anyways, sweetheart," he replied, his voice a steady murmur as the familiar silhouette of your apartment building rose in the distance.

Nanami unlocked the apartment door, stepping aside to let you in first. Inside, the warmth of your apartment welcomed you like a hug. Nanami helped you remove his coat, his touch sending a spark through you. You couldn't help but let out a small sigh of contentment.

Without wasting a moment, you went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge, a triumphant grin spreading across your face as you emerged with a selection of cheeses – creamy ricotta, a sharp pecorino romano, and a wedge of fragrant goat cheese.

You sliced into the Herb Focaccia, the golden crust giving way to reveal a fluffy, herb-infused interior. Working quickly, you arranged the slices on a plate, the bread filling the room with its savoury aroma.

Just then, Nanami wandered into the kitchen, his suspender gone and his sleeves rolled up. "Wow," he breathed, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him, as he looked at the arrangement of cheese and sliced bread. "That looks amazing,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your neck.

Finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You took a bite of your hard-earned bread, letting the flavours explode on your tongue. A soft moan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. The combination of textures – the crisp crust yielding to the soft, pillowy interior, punctuated by the sharp tang of cheese and the fragrant whisper of herbs – was pure magic.

"This," you breathed, a dreamy smile on your face, "is absolutely delicious."

Nanami, who was watching you with a hint of amusement in his eyes, reached for a slice. He took a bite, his expression mirroring your own for a brief moment before settling into a satisfied nod and a soft smile.

"It is," he agreed, taking another thoughtful bite. "A shame they always sell out so fast. Wish we had some alternative..."

Wheels turned in your head as you said as a mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. "What if we tried making this at home, huh? We have the next two days off without any missions – the perfect time to try something new!”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. The corners of his lips twitched into a barely-there smile. "Baking, huh?" he drawled, his voice laced with a playful challenge. "We're both about as experienced as Gojo is with manners."

You swatted him playfully on the arm. "Hey!" you protested, a grin tugging at your lips. "That's exactly why it'll be fun!"

He hesitated for a moment, the playful glint in your eyes mirroring his own amusement. A genuine smile finally bloomed on his face. "Alright," he conceded, stepping closer and placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Considering it's our break, we might as well give Golden Crust a run for their money."

Sun streamed through the living room window, casting a warm glow on your furrowed brow as you scrolled through endless online recipes on your iPad. Despite what you said yesterday about enjoying a break, you did have a mission today, although a different mission – to find the perfect Herb Focaccia recipe.

"Aha!" you exclaimed, a grin replacing your frown. "This one seems promising," you announced, turning to Nanami who stood beside you, already waiting with a pen and a grocery list. He was a picture of casual comfort- clad in jeans and a light sweater.

Nanami glanced over your shoulder at the recipe. "Looks doable," he agreed, jotting down ingredients. "Straightforward, and with good reviews – that's a good sign."

With the shopping list complete, you and Nanami left for the grocery store. Navigating the aisles together, you tossed bags of flour, yeast, and a bunch of fragrant herbs – rosemary, thyme, and oregano – into your cart.

Nanami surprised you with his surprising knowledge of flour. As you reached the flour section, he paused, expertly selecting a bag. "Hold on," he said, "for focaccia, bread flour is actually better than all-purpose. It has more gluten, which gives it that nice, chewy texture."

You smiled, impressed by this unexpected expertise. "So, we have a baking wiz here, huh?" you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

Back in the apartment, you unloaded the groceries, setting the ingredients out on the counter. Nanami followed suit, carefully placing the bag of flour beside the yeast and herbs. The flour bag held a secret – a small hole lurking at the bottom, waiting to cause trouble.

As Nanami plunked the bag down with a satisfied thud, a white explosion erupted. A cloud of flour billowed out, engulfing you both in a powdery embrace. You coughed, momentarily blinded by the sudden snowstorm.

For a beat, the kitchen was covered in flour-dusted surprise. Then, as the dust settled, a giggle escaped your lips. It quickly escalated into full-blown laughter, and Nanami joined you soon, the sound of his laughter, deep and rich, filled the space.

As you were wiping away the tears of mirth from your eyes, Nanami said, “Well, that’s quite a start,” a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Nanami brushed the flour off his T-shirt; he had ditched his sweater before you two started baking. He looked so relaxed, despite the dusty start you had. His eyes were playful, crinkling in the corners that made your heart skip a beat. You reached up, standing on your tippy toes to ruffle his hair, ruining his perfectly combed hair. Nanami looked at you, his eyebrow raised, “What? You had flour there!” you chuckled.

Nanami shook his head as he picked up the iPad and pulled up the recipe. "Shall we continue, now that the flour is out of my hair?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. You nodded, a grin still plastered on your face, and pulled out a set of bowls, ready to tackle the recipe together.

The kitchen was filled with Nanami’s voice as he read out the instructions. You, meanwhile, were busy measuring out the yeast. As you poured it into a bowl of warm water and sugar, a peculiar aroma tickled your nose. Nanami’s nose scrunched at the smell.

"That...smells interesting," he remarked, a hint of laughter dancing in his eyes. "Is that what activated yeast is supposed to smell like?" You shot him a playful wink "Maybe, maybe not, sweetheart- We will find out soon enough," you said, as you stirred the mixture, covered it, set it aside and put a timer, waiting for the yeast to activate.

Nanami chuckled. He turned his attention to the dry ingredients, carefully measuring and sifting them into a separate bowl. You watched him work, captivated by his meticulous movements. "You're surprisingly good at this," you observed after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence.

Nanami glanced up, a hint of red creeping up his neck. "I may or may not have watched a few baking videos last night," he admitted sheepishly. A wide smile bloomed on your face. "Aww, Kento, that's so sweet! No wonder you're a pro already!"

Nanami gave a small shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just trying to make sure we don't end up with a complete disaster," he mumbled, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Besides, a little preparation never hurt anyone, right?”

A ding sounded in the kitchen, interrupting the two of you. It was the timer, indicating 15 minutes had been up. You reached for the bowl containing the yeast, lifting the cover with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

The yeasty mixture had indeed transformed – a frothy golden cap bubbled on top, emitting an aroma stronger than before. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but...unique. "Well, that certainly looks...active," you remarked, offering Nanami a playful smile. He leaned in for a closer look, a hint of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Active enough," he agreed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Following the recipe, you poured the olive oil into the yeast mixture, stirring gently to combine. Then you tipped the wet ingredients into the dry ones. With ease, Nanami took the lead. Using a sturdy wooden spoon, he began folding and mixing the wet and dry ingredients until a shaggy dough emerged. It was a glorious mess – a tangled web of flour, water, and flecks of golden yeast.

Stepping aside, Nanami gestured towards the countertop, while he continued mixing. You nodded in understanding and dusted the surface liberally with flour, creating a snowy landscape for the dough to come. He carefully tipped the shaggy mass onto the floured surface.

Nanami’s fingers dipped into the gooey mess, strong hands worked on the dough. You watched, captivated, as the dough began to transform under his touch. Slowly, the shaggy mess yielded, becoming smoother and more elastic with each press.

A blush crept up your cheeks – a reaction you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the focus completely breaking his usual stoic demeanour. Or perhaps it was the way the flour dusted his dark hair, making him look both domestic and surprisingly…sexy.

And his arms- God his arms. His forearms spoke of strength and control. The muscles bunched and flexed with each deliberate movement. A network of veins ran up his arm, a subtle map that you have traced so many times with your lips, hidden beneath the sun-kissed skin. His hands, surprisingly gentle moments ago while mixing, transformed into instruments of purpose.

Long fingers dug into the dough, drawing it in, pushing it away, folding and stretching it. Suddenly, Nanami's voice cut through your thoughts, laced with amusement. "Seems like someone's getting a little jealous of the dough," he teased, his gaze meeting yours. He had swapped his usual glasses for a wired frame style that somehow made him look even more devastatingly handsome.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you stammered out a defence. "I was just...concerned you might be a little too rough on the dough," you mumbled, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.

"Don't worry, darling," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I know exactly when to be rough. Not that you need any reminding."

You met his gaze- your cheeks were definitely red now. A slow smile spread across Nanami's face as he witnessed the effect of his words. "Besides," he added, leaning in a little, his voice playful again, "I think our dough is ready to move into the oven.”

Right. The dough. Baking with Nanami. You mentally shook yourself back to reality. Clearing your throat, you reached for the iPad, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself.

"Actually," you started, consulting the recipe, "I think we need to let it rise for a bit." You grabbed a bowl and began coating the inside with olive oil. Nanami, a hint of a smirk still lingering on his lips, picked up the dough and transferred it gently to the prepared bowl before covering it with a clean kitchen towel as you set the timer.

An hour melted away and you and Nanami approached the bowl, a shared look of anticipation passing between you as you lifted the towel.

A gasp escaped your lips – the dough had risen magnificently, its volume nearly doubled. It puffed proudly, a smooth, elastic surface begging to be pocked.

You turned to Nanami, who had something similar to... pride, in his eyes. It was something unexpected, and warmth bloomed in your chest.

You watched Nanami lean on the counter to grab the iPad, his T-shirt riding up ever so slightly, his back visible, causing you to draw a breath. He straightened up, seemingly unaware of your reaction, and read out the instructions for the next step. Following his lead, you grabbed the baking tray, coating it with olive oil, creating a glistening canvas for the dough.

Lifting the risen dough, a surge of accomplishment welled up within you. It felt light and airy- the result of your combined efforts. Together, you and Nanami gently placed it onto the oiled tray, your fingers brushing briefly with his as you spread the dough evenly.

A comfortable silence settled once more. Following the recipe, you used your fingertips to create gentle indentations in the dough – dimples to welcome the olive oil, as mentioned in the recipe. Nanami took over next, as he drizzled a light stream of oil over the surface. Then, he sprinkled some sea salt and a generous amount of herbs on top of the dough, adding a visual and aromatic flourish.

Finally, you carefully covered the transformed dough with a damp cloth. "There," you announced with quiet pride. A satisfied smile tugged at Nanami's lips as he set the oven to preheat. The air crackled with unspoken anticipation as you both turned towards the next step – letting the dough rise again before baking it.

You and Nanami sat in comfortable silence, waiting for the oven to preheat and the dough to rise.

A soft ding interrupted the silence. The oven timer blinked at you, announcing the 25 minutes had flown by. The dough was ready for its transformation.

Nanami grabbed the oven mitts and put them on. You carefully peeled back the damp cloth, revealing the risen dough in all its glory. You passed on the tray to Nanami's gloved hands and he slid the tray into the warmth of the oven, the door shutting with a soft thud.

Silence fell once more, but this time filled with anticipation. The oven hummed as Nanami wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head. "Let's see how this turns out," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

The aroma of toasted herbs hung heavy in the air, a warm, inviting fragrance that eclipsed even the lingering scent of flour. The focaccia had emerged from the oven a golden beauty, its surface dappled with sea salt and herbs.

You set it aside to cool, a necessary but agonising wait. Nanami disappeared into the fridge, emerging with a selection of cheese you'd used yesterday- creamy ricotta, a sharp pecorino romano, and goat cheese. You, in turn, busied yourself with a simple balsamic vinegar and olive oil dip, the sharp tang a perfect contrast to the richness promised by the cheese.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. With a practised hand, you sliced into the focaccia, revealing the fluffy interior generously infused with herbs. You bit your lip, a nervous flutter in your stomach. So far, so good. Everything had gone according to plan.

Arranging the slices on a plate, you added the cheese and the dip, creating a vibrant tapestry of colours and texture. You and Nanami exchanged a look, both reaching for a piece of bread at the same time.

The first bite was a revelation. The focaccia was warm and yielding, the texture a delightful contrast to the crisp golden crust. The herbs, released by the heat, danced on your tongue, a symphony of flavour that mingled beautifully with the salty tang of the cheese and the sharp sweetness of the dip.

Nanami broke the silence, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's delicious," he said, his voice filled with genuine surprise and a hint of awe.

You returned the smile, relief and joy washing over you. "It really is," you agreed, savouring each bite.

The twist here? It tasted nothing like Golden Crust's legendary focaccia bread. It was a completely different beast, with its own unique flavour profile. But that didn't make it any less delicious. In fact, it was a delightful surprise, as you both weren’t expecting this turn of events.

Nanami took another bite of the bread, this time with cheese, “I don’t know which bread I like more, the golden crust one or this one,” he admitted, his brows knit together as if he were choosing between the two options.

A surprised laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Really?" you asked, a playful glint in your eyes. "Golden Crust has some serious competition then, huh?"

Nanami chuckled, taking another bite and savouring the contrasting textures. "Honestly," he began, "they're both fantastic, just different. Golden Crust is all about that classic, reliable flavour, but this..." he gestured to the plate, "this has a certain... ineffable quality, a unique charm that's hard to put into words. It's like a combination of flavours and textures, each bite a delightful surprise. It's fresh, unexpected, and bursting with flavour."

The rest of the evening unfolded in a comfortable rhythm. You and Nanami devoured the focaccia, exchanging bites of cheese and dipping the bread into the tangy balsamic vinegar mixture.

As the golden light of dawn began to peek through the kitchen window, a comfortable silence settled between you. Nanami, with a tired yet contented smile, stacked the empty plates while you cleared the countertop. After cleaning the kitchen, you turned the lights off and made your way to the living room.

Exhaustion finally caught up to you both- it was surprisingly tiring to make bread. You found yourselves on the living room couch, nestled against Nanami's side. His arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your skin.

"We should try that again sometime," you murmured, reaching out to brush a stray streak of flour from his cheek.

Nanami hummed in agreement. "Yeah, it was a great first attempt."

The smell of herbs in the air was replaced by something else. Leaning closer, you teased, "Maybe it's because of your kneading skills. You have good hands after all."

A flicker of something more than amusement danced in Nanami's eyes. He scooped you up in his arms, surprising you with his sudden movement.

"We are definitely covered in flour," he said, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Desperate need of a shower, even..." He paused, the air thick with unspoken desire. "And if we're continuing this..." his voice dropped even lower, "...maybe I should practice those hands more."

Laughter bubbled up from your chest as he carried you away towards the bathroom, the promise of something sweeter hanging in the air.

a/n: There it is- my first fanfic! (and of course, it's a Nanami fanfic). Would LOVE to know what you guys thought of this!

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #tasha's works ✍️

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ode2rin · 11 months

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good to me

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. fluff fluff fluff, a bit suggestive… | established relationship | rin w his money money money

in which: going outfit shopping with itoshi rin is kind of the best and worst idea

“uhm, rin? i don’t think it suits me…?”

“let me see.”

a bit unsure about the clothing draped over you, you adjusted the outfit, preparing to show yourself to your lover who patiently waited on the other side of the dressing room. it wasn't a bad fit per se; in fact, if you were being honest, it looked really good on you. it was just that… there are days that sometimes it is hard to believe so.

and it’s not helping that you’re here today for an important purpose. today, in which, you’re out shopping for an outfit to wear to meet your boyfriend’s parents the day after tomorrow. you will be meeting the itoshis. to say that you were nervous is an understatement. after all, it was an important occasion and a further step in your relationship, so you are hellbent on wanting to make a good impression.

taking a deep breath, you pushed aside any lingering negative thoughts and stepped out of the room, standing in front of rin with your palms facing his direction. you gave a little twirl, showcasing the ensemble.

with that twirl, rin's eyes widened in sheer wonderment, his voice caught in a symphony of awe and admiration, as if the sight of you had stolen his ability to form words.

good heavens.

“what do you think? is it too much?” you asked nervously.

too much for his heart, that is.

rin's silence only intensified the flutter of your heart, anticipation building within you. he knew that his words alone wouldn't suffice to capture the sight before him. without a word, he rose from his seat and closed the distance between you.

“what are you doing, rin?” you questioned, your voice filled with curiosity and a hint of breathlessness.

“showing you what i think,” he replied, his voice laced with unusual tenderness.

with that, rin gently placed his hands on your waist, turning you around until your back pressed against his chest. together, you faced the full-length mirror to your right, offering a reflection of your entwined figures.

his touch was delicate, his hands caressing your hips and settling at your waist, fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes. you found it hard to meet his gaze in the reflection, your eyes fixated on your own feet.

“eyes up here, love.”

almost instantly, your gaze met the reflection of his burning eyes, filled with affection and a touch of awe.

“so beautiful… all of this for me?” rin murmured, his voice filled with coaxing wonder, his words a teasing dance that feigned ignorance, as if he didn't already know the answer.

his proximity overwhelmed your senses, each breath he took causing a shiver to run down your spine. the earlier anxiety you felt about the meet-up faded away, replaced by a tangible heat emanating from his body pressed intimately against yours.

as rin's warm breath grazed the delicate curve of your neck, a trail of electric sensation sparked to life, setting your skin ablaze. the gentle brush of his lips against your jaw sent a shiver of anticipation through your veins, intensifying the already charged atmosphere that enveloped you both.

“just for you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

damn right.

you looked really good in this one, rin thinks so. regardless though, there’s no clothing or any adornment that would ever change the way rin itoshi views you. he looks at you as if you hang each of the stars in the sky. and sure, you obviously did not. but in his world, you did. yet in rin’s true fashion, he won’t tell you that.

instead, he’ll just call you beautiful. so often that you’d forget what your name even was.

but how can he do that when there’s a glint of weariness in your eyes telling him you don’t believe the word right now?

rin, his arms now securely wrapped around your waist, gazes into your eyes through the mirror.

“what’s the matter?” he asks, concern etched in his voice, seeing right through your worries.

“do you think they’ll like me?” you whisper, insecurity lacing your words.

“they will,” rin assures you, his voice brimming with conviction.

“how are you so sure?” you inquire, your fingers tracing mindless patterns on rin's forearms that encircle your body, seeking both physical and emotional comfort.

rin wanted to tell you that he couldn't care any less about what others thought of you. you were his, and damn sure he was yours. it was everything and more that truly mattered. nothing could come between that, never on his watch.

but he knows that's not what you need to hear, and what kind of lover would he be if he couldn't attend to your needs?

“well, you are with me. what more reason should there be?”

“you’re right, they should like me for even putting up with you,” you tease playfully, a small smile gracing your lips.

“shut up.”

“see, baby? i am putting up with that attitude. poor me, really,” you continue, a mischievous tint dancing your tone.

“as if you don’t put up with me by choice. you chose me,” rin counters, his voice getting uncharacteristically soft at the end.

you turn in his embrace, your hands finding their place around his neck. with a soft gaze, you meet his eyes, then let your gaze linger on his lips before returning to his eyes once more.

teal. it’s all you could see.

teal eyes that held so much ferocity in the field, impersonal to anyone but you.

with you, they transform into a celestial abyss, twinkling with the secrets of a thousand constellations. within those pools of teal, you discover the entire universe of his love, a galaxy created solely for you.

you are the sole witness to this cosmic devotion, a privilege you very much cherish.

“that, i did,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. “best thing i did, if i say so myself.”

and for that, rin will spend each day showing you how grateful he is. in this moment, however, he decides to express it through a tender kiss, a silent gesture of his affection to which you eagerly respond.

as the kiss lingers, you both pull away, a soft smile gracing your lips. the taste of sweetness and the warmth of his touch still lingers, leaving you with a pleasant tingle on your lips.

“get this, and everything you tried before it,” rin suggests, his eyes scanning you from head to toe once again.

“we agreed on getting just one!” you knew about rin’s tendency to spoil you, so you made it a point to inform him about your request on keeping it in moderation before entering the shop.

but rin itoshi? moderate? you should’ve known better.

a playful smirk tugs at rin's lips. that smirk looks like another headache waiting to happen, carved in his sinful lips.

“i remember agreeing on getting anything i’ll find good on you.”

and did he find everything good in you? ‘good’ will never come close to how rin sees you. you guys should do this more often, rin thinks. you giving him a bit of a fashion show, and him showing great appreciation.

“but i tried a lot!” you tried protesting once more. you had been here for almost an hour, trying on countless outfits. the total of everything you tried would probably be someone's bank account's worst nightmare.

“okay, and?”

well, certainly not your boyfriend's bank account, that's for sure.

note. i wrote this on my phone pls forgive me for any errors you see ._. | the girl i sat next to on the bus was watching a kdrama scene like this so… i was having the biggest brain rot of my life while sitting on a damn bus for 2 hours ^__^ | and i miss rin i miss him | so here <3

#☁️ my ode to you #I AM CRAZY ABOUT HIM (part 234798234782)#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

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