Play with Fire | Feyd-Rautha
Your secret tryst with the na-Baron should have ended the moment you returned to your betrothed on Caladan. And it would have, if your lover was willing to let you go.
Warnings: NON-CON, Knife Play, Blood Play, Breeding Kink, Jealousy, Cheating, Blackmail, Murder, Slight Paul Atreides x Reader, Incest
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
A raspy moan erupts from Feyd-Rautha’s throat as your slick walls squeeze around his hard cock. Your head tosses back, pleasure swirling through your core. Your nails rake across his sculpted, ivory chest and he purrs. You bury them in his flesh, scattering crimson lines across his skin. His hands curl around your hips as he thrusts into you more vigorously. You dig your heels into the rumpled sheets, your mind blanking as his pelvis massages your bundle of nerves.
You chew on your lip, willing yourself to be more quiet. The most arduous task considering the mind-blowing sensations coursing through your heated flesh. Your reputation hinges upon it. If anyone brushed past the na-Baron’s chambers and recognized your voice…you would be ruined.
What a lewd picture the two of you must paint from afar. You, a proper lady from a noble house of Caladan, riding Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s cock with wanton abandon, your dress bunched around you, sweat glistening off your panting frame. The Harkonnen heir-designate is in quite a disheveled state himself, grunting below you, his dark gaze hazy with lust.
“You are a goddess, my darling,” he lauds.
The echo of his gruff baritone ripples across your skin. Feral need bleeds from his words, his ravenous gaze riveted to your writhing form above him. It’s evident the na-Baron is basking in this sight, his tongue flicking through his lips every once in a while. The trail of his dusky eyes goes from your bouncing chest to your entrance, greedily sucking every inch of his length.
“Then fuck me like a god would,” you dare him with a smug smile. A risky move, particularly considering how deep inside you he already is, pulling broken moans from you each time his taut hips meet yours. But you want to push his buttons even more, see how far you can take it.
Grazing the flickering candlelight isn’t enough. You want a blazing inferno to engulf you whole.
You cock your eyebrow and sneer, “I expected more from such a great warrior.” You grab the long silver dagger lying beside him. Feyd-Rautha hardly goes anywhere without a deadly weapon nearby. His bed is no different. You push the tip against his throat. “Fuck me as if your life depended on it, na-Baron…because it does.”
Most men would cower at such words. But Feyd-Rautha isn’t most men. A wild glint of excitement blooms in his orbs. His throat bobs, a look of satisfaction so intense crossing his features, you wonder if he’ll spill himself inside you right at that moment.
He welcomes the threat upon his life like the most wondrous gift, making no move to shirk away from the sharp edge kissing his throat. Bliss decorates his features as you nick him in various spots with the blade, lingering so he feels every ounce of the sting when his flesh is sliced. Your blade curves meticulous patterns in his ivory flesh, drawing raspy moans and elated growls from him. You spread your hand across his chest, pressing your palm into the fresh wounds. Dark blood is smeared across his pale chest. The na-Baron moans at your touch, the pain delighting him. He embraces it as much as the pleasure. Perhaps even more.
He accepts the challenge you give him. A squeal shoots through your lips as he flips your bodies, forcing you on your stomach. He pushes the flowing fabric of your dress up until your dripping folds are bare to him. A shiver of anticipation courses through you when his thick tip presses against your weeping entrance. The blade slips through your fingers, a soundless scream parting from your throat when he slams his cock into you from behind.
The metallic taste of your own blood rains on your tongue when you bite your lip, confining every sound fighting to be unleashed. He wraps his hand around your nape, shoving your head into the mattress, allowing you no time to gather your breath. Each of his thrusts is brutal and unforgiving. He ruins your walls without a care. You find yourself almost wishing you didn’t agitate the beast inside him. Almost. If the sinful dance of torment and bliss weren’t so entrancing, perhaps you would regret it.
His muscular frame covers yours. His scorching breath glosses over the back of your neck as he inquires, “Does my cock meet your high standards, my Lady?”
Your chest heaves as you whimper underneath him. You are so delirious with both pain and pleasure that it’s hard to even think coherent words, let alone utter them. Feyd tears you from your haze with a pointed pinch on your swollen bundle of nerves, making you cry out.
“It’s…a-adequate, my Lord,” you stutter between panting breaths.
“Just adequate?” he scoffs. “Well, this will not do.”
Determined to have you choke on every taunt you threw at him, the na-Baron isn’t satisfied until you’re passed out underneath him. He finds his release as your walls spasm around him. Even as you’re on the cusp of collapse, you urge him to pull out, coaxing him to spill himself over your belly. A sliver of annoyance passes over his features before he surrenders to your wishes. Relief fills you when his warm, sticky seed coats your stomach.
You doubt your fiancé would respond well to you returning with a Harkonnen bastard growing in your womb.
As you wipe yourself with a damp cloth on the edge of the bed, you inform, “My mother and I are returning to Caladan tomorrow.” He doesn’t acknowledge you at first, sitting with his leg bent, completely unabashed in his nakedness. You let your gaze roam over his smooth, hairless muscled flesh. It’s a pleasant sight, one you commit to memory. You’ve enjoyed your time with the na-Baron. And not only did you enjoy yourself, you’ve shed the fear you harbored regarding your wedding night. You loathed the idea of being some shivering, terrified maiden before your husband. You long for more. Giving pleasure but also receiving it. Reciprocity.
Feyd’s head turns. His alabaster face betrays no emotion. He observes, “This was a brief trip.” He tilts his head. “Must I expect your next visit to end as swiftly?”
Mirth tugs the corners of your lips skyward. You crawl towards him.
“There will be no more visits.”
His jaw ticks.
“Is that so?”
You cup his cheek and state, “I am to be married soon.”
A hint of possessiveness flashes across his stony features. Subtle, but there nonetheless. You’ve learnt to decipher the minute shifts in his expression in the two weeks you have spent on Giedi Prime.
He snickers.
“To some lesser man, I reckon.”
You bend over his shoulder. A teasing lilt sneaks into your voice.
“Are you seized by jealousy, my lord, consumed with burning rage at the thought of another man touching me in the ways you have…” Your lips graze his earshell. “Perhaps even being inside me?”
His hand shoots out to clasp around your throat.
“Jealousy is for the weak,” he grates, his cheek pulsing. You smirk. Stoking the flames of his ire often yields…interesting results.
“Then does that make you your weakness, na-Baron?” you jest boldly.
The hand around your throat tightens, impeding your airways. A whine escapes through your lips. He hauls you off the bed and shoves you onto the floor.
“Darling…” he warns, his grip around your neck unwavering. “You speak too much when your mouth should be full of me. On your knees.”
You scowl at his imperious inflection but comply regardless. This is your last encounter with Feyd-Rautha. The last time you bend to his whims. While you’re not fond of his tone, you can discard your disgruntlement for a brief time.
You wrap your fingers around his length. Your dauntless gaze rises to meet his as you start planting kisses along the dark, swollen tip of his pale cock.
“Your wish is my command, my Lord na-Baron,” you whisper teasingly.
You never expected to entertain a secret affair with Feyd-Rautha of all men. For the entirety of your girlhood, you heard horror stories about the Harkonnen, how ruthless and cruel they are, how their wasteland of a planet is a cold, inhospitable rock.
So when your mother announced the two of you would be going on a diplomatic trip to Giedi Prime, you weren’t thrilled. In fact, fear surged through you that day. You kept picturing some awful thing happening as soon as you landed. You thought it to be a punishment, and wondered if perhaps you had offended Leto Atreides and his family in some form without realizing it.
However your parents explained the idea stemmed from a clumsy attempt at quelling the long-standing rivalry between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. Keep those tensions from building into an all-out interstellar war.
While Duke Leto Atreides will not risk his son’s life for a last ditch attempt at peace, the lives of members of a House Minor who swore him allegiance many years ago are more…expendable you suppose.
It is how you, daughter of an Earl with close ties to house Atreides, found yourself on Giedi Prime. Your father voiced his hopes that your sweet disposition would rub off on Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as he bid you goodbye.
Perhaps that plan worked a bit too well.
You barely understood how it happened. How your path and Feyd-Rautha’s collided in such an...unexpected way.
It all started the day you watched him - admired him truly - through your binoculars as he performed in the gladiator arena. That day, a hundred doors opened up inside you, each clamoring to be crossed. Like a castle brimming with rooms you never explored.
The spectacle of death should have repulsed you. Instead, you found his bellicose dance over the sand as the crowd cheered him on fascinating. You were unable to tear your gaze away that day. Inexplicably drawn to something twisted and sick you shouldn’t crave, yet did anyway. You found yourself wondering if those deft, pale fingers are as apt with…other things as they are with blades. It kept you awake at night and obliterated every other thought. How he’d be like. What he tasted like. What it would take to coax out that ferocity you saw in the arena in wildly different circumstances. That strange, irresistible force kept pulling you into his orbit.
So one day, you surrendered to it and snuck into his chambers, offering him your maidenhood. And he took it without hesitation.
In a life in which every decision is made for you, either by your mother, or your father or the Bene Gesserit…It is freeing to finally make a choice for yourself, one that only serves you and not the ends of a mysterious sisterhood whose obscure prophecies mean nothing to you.
However, while you have plucked a modicum of gratification from this affair, it must end. For not only are you spoken for but, during your time on Giedi Prime, you have borne witness to the depth of the na-Baron’s heartlessness.
While you admire his prowess in the arena, you resent his disregard for human life. You’ve trembled as you watched him slaughter servants to test the sharpness of his weapons, slice a cook’s throat for bringing him a meal he found under-seasoned or not warm enough, gut innocent bystanders simply because he had the impulse to do it.
Feyd-Rautha is a mercurial beast. A prime example of the Harkonnens’ capacity for unprovoked, gratuitous violence.
Therefore a flurry of comfort flows you through at the prospect that you’ll be going home soon, back to Caladan’s familiar, flourishing landscapes. Whatever thrill the affair elicited before is beginning to wear off. You long to be home and return to your fiancé.
However that sense of peace crumbles when you return to your chambers that night and find your mother waiting for you on the bed. You smooth out the wrinkles in your dress. It’s useless. The evidence must be all over you because she stomps in your direction, a wild look of rage distorting her usually demure features.
“Have you lost your sanity?” she roars.
You shake your head, feigning ignorance.
“Mother, I have no idea-”
It’s not until the sharp ringing of your mother’s palm flying across your face fills your ears that you realize that she just hit you, the searing sting of pain spreading belatedly. Almost like time stood still in the crux of that instant, leashed by your shock and disbelief. Your mother has never laid hands on you before. Not even once.
Your wide eyes find hers.
She shakes a berating finger at you.
“Do not lie to me, child. How many kinds of an idiot do you believe me to be?” Your mouth shudders as you clutch your throbbing cheek. The strength with which your mother struck you still pulses right below your fingertips. “You even reek of his foul stench. My own flesh and blood…smelling like a filthy Harkonnen whore.”
Your face burns, from both pain and shame.
“You foolish girl.” Her gaze narrows as she leans back, gulping a wide lungful before speaking again. “After your father and I moved the heavens to secure a worthy match for you?” She shakes her head. “You are lucky we are leaving tomorrow and that your father will not hear a word of this.” She pauses, sadness and disgust tinging her tone. “You were such a sweet, kind little girl, so curious and clever, always clinging to my skirts…” Your mother sighs. “So dutiful. What mistake did I make in raising you for you to become such an utter disappointment?”
Your heart shrinks under her accusing glare. A sheet of guilt pervades you as you fall silent, finding no word to stand up to your mother. She is right. Reality crashes over you. You were in a haze, a lust-driven fog. Now you’re wide awake, as if a bucket of freezing water was poured over you. You have besmirched yourself and your house, tossing away your virtue for…what? Ephemeral moments of delight. The more you mull over your actions, the more you realize how impulse-driven and dangerous they were…that all of it was a mistake.
Your mother’s words drop a hot stone of shame in the pit of your stomach, one that remains lodged inside you even as you land on Caladan. Not a single word is exchanged between the two of you in the brief time you sit together in the starship transporting you back home. Instead, a heavy silence rife with animosity fills the air.
You’re grateful Feyd-Rautha is notably absent the day of your departure. You don’t have the fortitude to peer at him, face your mistakes. And it’s what he is. The walking, breathing embodiment of your mistakes.
So in the ephemeral span of time required for time and space to fold and bring you back home, you sink back into your role of virtuous and demure lady of your house.
As you and your parents disembark, you let your eyes soak in Caladan’s beautiful landscapes. Lush, green plains fill your sight, their familiarity sending a wave of calm through you. Finally, you’re home. Light-years away from bloodthirsty warriors and caliginous planets with blotted skies rife with smoke and pollution. You are ready to bury the entire ordeal behind you and return to normalcy.
Expectedly, the Atreides clan is there to welcome you and your parents back home.
A small smile appears on Paul’s face when your gaze lands on him. Your stomach knots as you return it. He can never learn what occurred on Giedi Prime. That secret will follow you to your grave. You approach him, pointedly ignoring your mother’s sizzling stare.
Her apprehension permeates through you even from where you are. There can be no other mistakes.
Your match with Paul Atreides must be a success. For both your house’s sake and the safe continuation of the Bene Gesserit’s breeding program. The pinnacle of centuries of scheming and puppeteering from the shadows. Your mother impressed it upon you many times over the years. How the purity of the bloodlines must be preserved. How all of it serves to bring humanity closer to its age of enlightenment. And while you are not so conceited to believe you will bring forth the long-awaited Kwisatz Aderach…you understand your role in producing an offspring that perhaps may nudge the sisterhood closer to that goal.
You suppress the tremor in your hand as your cousin plucks your hand to kiss the back of it.
“May we walk together for some time?” he inquires.
Relief swells inside you. Chatting away from prying ears is a welcome prospect, the combined scrutinies of both your families flaring your nerves. You can even feel Lady Jessica’s attention on you now. What if your mother’s half-sister saw right through you? Your aunt’s sharp Bene Gesserit’s senses have always stirred a vague unease within you. Today even more so, as you choke on so many secrets you can barely breathe.
“With pleasure,” you respond, accepting his hand as he guides you away from the welcoming committee.
The two of you engage in a tranquil stroll across the grassy field.
“I trust your journey went well, cousin,” Paul says.
Flashes of torrid nights spent in a bed you shouldn’t be in force their way inside your mind. You quell the pesky memories, your brows knitting.
You coax a demure smile onto your features.
“It was a…learning opportunity. One I wholly embraced.”
Naturally, you spare your soon-to-be husband the details of what it is you learned and with who.
Your fiancé nods.
“It sounds delightful.” His green eyes soften as he mumbles, “You were missed.”
“By you, my Lord?” you beam, happiness fluttering through you.
Over the last few months, since the official announcement of your betrothal, your fondness for Paul grew the more time you two shared. The crush you harbored for him as a child blossomed into more, his kindness and nobility of heart winning you over. But you never expected him to reciprocate those feelings.
A hint of pink dusts Paul’s cheeks. Straightening his spine, he clears his throat.
“Many…including myself,” he answers evasively.
Your smile widens. “I would hope my betrothed noticed my absence.”
Warmth rushes through you as replies, his tone dropping, “It was definitely noticed, my Lady.”
He suddenly falls quiet. Thoughts seem to lurk in his mind, causing a deep frown to carve his brow.
Concern tickles your insides.
“Is something troubling you, my Lord?”
He hesitates, his thin lips squeezing before he reveals, “Mother believes I should take you as concubine, not as a wife, in case another marriage prospect presents itself to me.”
You ponder his words. It does not surprise you coming from your cunning aunt, that she would encourage her son to keep his options open the way his father did. A sliver of bitter disappointment percolates through your chest. Being Paul Atreides’ concubine would have its range of perks. You could stand beside him, share his bed and perhaps even a genuine love one day. One as deep and true as the one his parents have nurtured for years.
But it would also mean that while you’d undeniably be his, Paul would never truly be yours…that he could become someone else’s overnight to secure some treaty or alliance with another house.
Still, you conceal the panic rushing through you with a meek nod.
“It would be a clever move,” you say. You hold his eyes. “What did the Duke say?”
“That he regrets not making my mother his Duchess everyday.”
He seizes your hands, his fingers curling tightly around yours. Determination steels his olive gaze. “I do not wish to repeat my father’s mistakes,” he states.
The worry building inside you is stifled by his soft reassurance.
“That is a relief to hear, my Lord.”
As Paul’s fond gaze rests on you however, guilt creeps inside you once more, your mind wandering to the debauchery you surrendered to on Geidi Prime. Self-loathing fills you.
You tear your hands from his, your focus tumbling to the ground.
“Are you unwell, my Lady?” he asks, his tone dripping with concern.
You shake your head, giving a false smile.
“It’s nothing. I was simply lost in my thoughts,” you lie.
Interest blooms in his green orbs. “Would you care to share them with me?”
The blood in your veins freezes. You pale to think how Paul, your beloved, his beautiful eyes overflowing with love and trust, would look at you if he knew. The mere thought makes you queasy. He can never know.
“I was simply overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of our union, my Lord.”
He accepts your explanation without a shadow of doubt in his eyes. He takes your hands in his again, fervently promising, “I am aware that greater forces may have rushed our union, but I want you to know. I will love and cherish you with my whole heart.”
For several days, you get to bask in your renewed peace, finding solace in returning to your habits and focusing on the wedding preparations. While your mother’s coldness remains, you don’t let her behavior cast a pale on your happiness. Besides, she will be compelled to acknowledge your efforts over time, how much you strive to do nothing but bring pride to your house. You may have faltered on Giedi Prime, yielded to your baser instincts. But it is all in the past.
The dusky planet will fade. Feyd-Rautha will fade. And soon, memories of your life with Paul will replace those fleeting moments of weakness.
So, for a while, all is well, your mind at rest and your spirits lifted. All is well... until nothing is.
Until a handmaiden brutally tears you from your slumber one morning.
“My lady, you must awake now,” she whispers, urgency laced in her tone.
“Arisha…The Devil himself must sleep at this hour,” you groan, burying your head in your soft, comfortable pillow.
A Harkonnen ship just pierced through the Caladan exosphere. Its landing is imminent.”
Dread shoots through you.
The news has you leaping out of bed, abruptly hurling you into a state of complete wakefulness.
You whirl towards her.
“A Harkonnen ship?” you screech, your voice wavering.
“Yes, my Lady,” Arisha confirms.
Your mind throbs as alarm pulses through you. A Harkonnen ship…here on Caladan? This isn’t just strange. It is unprecedented.
“Help me get dressed, at once,” you command, already shedding your nightgown.
You rush to get ready, joining your family as they hop on an aircraft to reach the landing site. Your chest is tight the entire time.
When you arrive, a striking scene welcomes you. On one side of the large landing strip, the Atreides army stands proudly, flanking the Duke and his family, while on the other there is a Harkonnen battalion, accompanied by a large swarm of Sardaukar soldiers.
A thick layer of tension coats the air, so palpable you feel its weight on your skin as you join the Atreides’ side. Both sides are poised for battle, ready to draw their weapons and unleash hell if need be. The fresh morning Caladan breeze is heavy with the threat of imminent bloodshed. Your gaze drifts to the mighty Duncan Idaho. The swordmaster’s face is uncharacteristically stern, the usual cockiness he dons gone from his features.
You swallow past the dryness in your throat.
You pivot to Thufir Hawat, the Atreides’ mentat. A hushed question rushes through your lips. “Thufir, how much will it cost them, traveling this far from Giedi Prime to Caladan?”
The mentat’s orbs gloss over with a white veil as his genetically altered mind runs calculations faster than any regular human could. Within a few seconds, he supplies a precise answer. “Two guild navigators, a total of one million two hundred ninety thousand fifty three and a quarter solaris round trip, my Lady.”
You release a quivering breath. The cost of the trip alone has a pang of foreboding twist your insides. Who squanders such a vast amount of solaris over a courtesy visit in enemy territory?
Only a fool or a madman would do such a thing.
Your eyes travel across the field. A familiar dark gaze corrals yours. Your heart skips a beat. For brief seconds, familiar pale lips rise in a taunting smile.
A shudder rocks through your frame. You lower your eyes, keeping them on the grass.
Him? Here? On your beloved Caladan? Adrenaline pumps through your blood, your pulse spiking. A frown forms on your brow. Sense is amiss here. You thought him a beast, driven by nothing but violence and lust. But as you take in the scene unfolding before you, the two enemy armies trapped in a standstill, you understand more clearly.
This is not some impulsive, foolish attempt. This is a calculated move. No side can hurt each other this openly without annihilating each other and causing a global, intergalactic incident. The other houses of the Landsraad would be forced to declare allegiance for one side or the other. The Imperium would be compelled to respond. Chaos would erupt.
And it’s blatant the na-Baron knows it, a smugness etched on his face despite standing in enemy fields.
You are so consumed by your raging train of thoughts that you nearly miss the tail end of the conversation between the Duke, your father and him.
Shock bolts through you when you catch the suggestion that he should stay in your family’s estate.
Indignation pulses through your words.
“In our home, father?”
Your father shoots you a withering glance. Your head dips as you bite your tongue. No protest should have risen from it. As an Earl’s daughter, your opinion in such matters is irrelevant. So despite the frustration and horror swelling inside you, you bind every objection to the cage of your sealed lips.
His gristly, arrogant baritone booms across the field.
“In light of the…belligerent history House Harkonnen and House Atreides share, I believe it may be ill-advised for me to stay at Castle Caladan.” Despite your bowed head, you can paint a vivid picture of the haughty smile stretched on his lips as he says, “And since our two houses have grown undeniably close, thanks to your daughter’s most skilled, clever tongue...” Your heart races as you quietly pray no one present deciphers the lewd implication behind his words. “It is where I shall take residence for the duration of my stay.”
Later that same day, Feyd-Rautha wastes no time in finding you, making the purpose of his visit clear when he sneaks into your chambers. His reflection in your vanity mirror as you remove your headdress startles you.
You jump to your feet.
“Guards?” you call sharply.
He cocks his head, a smirk ghosting over his plump lips.
“Guards?” he repeats, openly mocking you. “I have Harkonnen soldiers at your door, my darling.”
A shudder ripples through your spine. You lift your chin, your tone firm and commanding as you say, “You can’t be here, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. It is inappropriate.”
He snorts.
“Inappropriate?” A predatory look crosses his features as his dark gaze roams over you, seeming to peel the layers of your dress. “I do not recall that being an issue when I had you spread over my cock back on Giedi Prime.”
Heat rushes to your face at his lewd reminder.
“Y-You must leave,” you insist, fighting to quell the tremor in your voice.
“Or what?” he challenges, taking slow, lithe steps in your direction. Your pulse soars. “Will you scream?” A crooked slant appears on his mouth, the prospect clearly filling him with great delight. He hums low in his throat. “Then how will you explain my presence in your chambers?”
You recoil, every hair on your body bristling as he inches closer. The realization that you are alone with him, with no help coming, that power you held before now robbed from you, has dread steadily mounting inside you. On Giedi Prime, he was a leashed monster, one you felt you could sway as you like. Here in your room, he is a ravenous creature, hungry for blood and retribution. One you no longer have control over.
You dash towards the exit. He smoothly impedes your attempt at escaping, his fingers fastening around your wrist while he grabs your body from behind. He yanks you backwards, pulling you against his chest.
“Not so fast,” he sneers. His tongue slips out to drag across your temple. You wince, jerking in his embrace to free yourself. You bend over him and sink your teeth in the flesh of his arm. He purrs in pleasure, his hold on you tightening. His gravelly whisper summons goosebumps on your skin. “Oh darling, such a slippery one you are, always trying to run from me whenever things start to become most…interesting.”
He hauls you to your bed. Your heels dig into the ground to resist. His patience fizzles out and he throws you onto the carpeted floor instead. The clamor of your drumming heart rises to a crescendo in your ears. He looms over you, his body caging yours. Terrorized, you gape at him, an helplessness you never felt before pulsing through your veins. Your chest heaves rapidly, alarm widening your gaze as he reaches down to pull down his black pants. His erect, alabaster cock slips free, the swollen tip already shimmering with the evidence of his need. A scream dies in your throat when his fingers wrap around your neck, bruises already forming in his painful grip.
You thrash beneath him, clawing and biting every part of him you can reach. Your feistiness only serves to galvanize him further. A demented look of amusement decorates his handsome face as you struggle underneath his frame. His throbbing length pokes your stomach. You kick your legs, desperation radiating through your chest. He places himself between your thighs, pushing your dress out of the way until it’s bunched around your waist. A raspy sigh leaves him as he nudges his thick, leaking tip against your dry entrance.
Terror sings through your veins.
He revels in every bit of fight you give him, plucking satisfaction in watching you exert yourself to delay the inevitable. A hungry wolf toying with a lamb before sinking his teeth. Even as you grab the dagger hidden under your skirts and try to stab him, he’s undeterred, the flicker of surprise shifting to a smile when you nick his shoulder blade. He wrenches it from your hand with little effort, once more demonstrating that whatever frail control you thought you ever had…was just an illusion. You squeal in pain as he twists your wrists above your head, his steely grip nearly snapping your bones.
“No…don’t you dare,” you hiss, the confidence in your voice faltering as you feel him push inside you.
His warm breath brushes over your face. “I traveled across the stars to find you again. I will take what is rightfully mine.”
Your back folds as he spears you with his cock. The room blurs around you, the sudden searing pain as he begins to move inside you almost knocking you unconscious. He never took you like that. Like an animal in heat, desperate to reach his high. You choke on your breath with every one of his quick, feral thrusts.
His lips sweep over yours, ravenous and possessive. You bite him and he growls, somehow growing harder inside you. His sick enjoyment of this makes you shudder. He fondles your soft flesh, groaning into the bloody kiss. Black teeth trail possessive bites along the quivering column of your neck. His hands feel everywhere on your reluctant flesh, the weight of him suffocating as his greedy mouth tastes yours.
“You thought you could toy with me and toss me aside when it pleased you,” he rumbles, squeezing your jaw. His fingers dig painfully into your cheeks. “I am Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I am not some spoiled little princess’ toy.”
The last remnants of bravado inside you are swiftly pushed by the hasty, merciless snap of his hips into yours. You try to ignore the horrid heat gathering in your lower belly, the spasms rocking through your core every time he hits those tender spots he’s come to know too well.
“I’m delighted to see your body hasn’t forgotten me, darling,” he taunts, yanking a drawn-out whimper from you as his cock punches through your walls.
Your chest grazes his, his form draping over yours as you sag against the floor of your bedroom, completely defeated.
“Please…” The desperate, feeble cry falls from your tongue in a last ditch effort to get him to stop. It only makes him smile down at you, a glint of victory illuminating his dark orbs. Tears well up in your eyes as you grow overwhelmed with fear, confused and terrified by the way your body yields to him. Your walls constrict around him, hugging his cock as if welcoming the assault. A wave of sickness spreads through you.
His tongue traces a slow path across your cheek, collecting the salty trails streaming down your face. He moans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Your tears taste sweeter than I could have imagined. Almost as sweet as that tight cunt of yours.” He licks his lips. “Perhaps I shall aim to make you cry for me more often.”
When his warm spent glazes your ruined walls, his sweat-covered muscular frame covers yours. He remains buried inside you, crudely pushing back the sticky excess with his fingers. You shiver beneath him, weeping quietly, forever destroyed, forever changed.
Head nestled in the crook of your neck, he whispers, “We shall see how well my seed blossoms in your garden, my darling.”
“I do not understand,” Paul says, turning a dismayed frown upon you. “You are to be his willing bride?”
Swallowing a deep breath, you recollect the events that have led you here. Led you to stand here before the members of House Atreides, before your fiancé, to announce that you will not marry Paul. Led to you disgracing yourself and your house.
The wayward memories slip through your grieving mind.
Focusing on their conversation is hard, the discomfort in your body making it hard to walk properly. Feyd-Rautha relishes your torment, occasionally tossing taunting glances at you above his shoulder, a secretive smirk hovering on his lips. Your fingers clench in your lap. He insisted your father give him a tour of the castle this morning, and as his supposed ‘friend’, you are naturally expected to be present. Nevermind the sickness and resentment taking hold of you whenever you look at him.
As the tour nears its end, your father asks, “Do you have everything you need, na-Baron, or do you require any further accommodations?”
Feyd-Rautha hums, as if he were truly mulling over this offer.
“Any further accommodations?” He smirks, pausing before resting his eyes on you. “I suppose your daughter’s hand in marriage will do.”
Your head snaps up, a stunned exhale bursting from your mouth.
Your father turns a puzzled frown towards the ivory-skinned young man.
“My daughter’s hand? Is this a joke?”
There isn’t a hint of mischief on the na-Baron’s face, his expression deadly serious, making your father realize…his request must be as serious. He halts in his tracks, the smile vanishing from his face.
Feyd-Rautha approaches your father, ordering rather than asking, “Cancel the match with Atreides, old man, and give your daughter to me instead.” He snickers. “Her virtue is already mine anyway.”
This sends your father into a blind rage. He draws out his sword and lunges himself at the na-Baron.
“You rascal. I will teach you-”
Your father was a great warrior once, a fearsome force on the battlefield. Duncan Idaho himself would attest to that, having fought at his side several times.
…But that was decades ago. Nowadays with his body slowed down by age, he is no match for the quick, ruthless Feyd-Rautha. He barely gets the opportunity to swing his sword at the young man once before Feyd-Rautha guides his blade below his chin and through his skull. Blood gurgles from your father’s mouth, raining over his neck and clothes before he falls into a heap on the floor.
Your stomach drops. You watch in horror at his split skull, matter spilling from it across the tiles, his rolled back eyes, his still open mouth.
You sink to the floor, crawling to his corpse. Fresh blood stains your palms as you cradle his head.
“Father!” Tears blur your sight. You lift your eyes, yelling out orders with a broken voice. “Guards! Detain him!”
Shock ripples through you as the guards ignore you, staring ahead blankly as if the gruesome scene before them didn’t exist.
Feyd-Rautha kneels at your side. He frames your chin, bending over your shoulder to whisper,
“Oh darling, do you not understand?” You hear the wicked smile in his raspy baritone. “Your house isn’t your house anymore. It is mine.” Ice bursts through your veins. His gravelly voice lowers, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “Do you wish for your sisters and mother to meet the same fate?”
Your chin wobbles in his grasp. “N-No.”
He strokes the side of your face.
“Then do everything I say.”
“Y-Yes, my Lord,” you reply with a tremulous nod.
Ire trembles through Paul’s voice, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. Disbelief and hurt contort his boyish features.
“I do not believe it. I do not believe you,” he says, pinning you with an unflinching stare. You lower your gaze. You can hardly believe it yourself. How your entire life fell apart, your future in ruins…your father’s blood now on your hands. You blink back budding tears and take a deep breath to thwart any hint of trembling in your voice. You’re grateful for the funeral veil concealing your expression. “I apologize for breaking the promise my father made.”
Paul’s jaw clenches.
“You’re lying.”
“Son…” Leto Atreides begins, a slight warning in his tone.
“There is something she isn’t telling me, father,” Paul insists, his green gaze narrowing. “Speak the truth.”
You shiver before feebly uttering, “My Lord…”
“Silence!” You flinch at the sudden wave of power engulfing you, forcing you into quietness as if someone snatched your tongue from your mouth. You release a shaky breath, staring up at Paul in shock. The Voice. Paul used the Voice on you. A Bene Gesserit skill meant to make the target bow to the user’s will. Your wide-eyed gaze rests on Paul. You never expected him to use this on you. As if you were some enemy he needed to interrogate.
His anger cracks in the air like a whip.
“I said…Speak the truth,” he snaps, using the Voice again.
A great pain settles in your body, pins and needles coursing through it. Sweat breaks out on your skin. Words tear from your throat on their own, aching as they spring from your tongue.
“I offered myself to him on Giedi Prime,” you blurt out.
Your hands fly to your mouth as soon as the words pour out of you. Your eyes fill with tears. Paul looks at you in a way he never has before. Like you’re a stranger. Your heart sinks.
“I see. So it is true.”
Meanwhile, at your side, Feyd-Rautha basks in every second of the spectacle, twisted mirth swaying in his dark orbs. He hasn’t said more than a few words during the whole exchange but it’s clear he’s plucking joy from this, reveling in your misery.
Paul nods, stepping away from you.
“You are dismissed, my Lady. You may go to your future husband.”
Paul’s icy timbre shatters what is left of your heart. He turns his back to you and you feel more alone than you ever have in your entire life. Your lips clamp shut, a cold wave setting all the way to your bones.
Even Paul’s parents, the Duke and your aunt the Lady Jessica appear disappointed in you, their eyes bereft of its usual warmth as they watch you leave with the enemy.
You have nothing, no one. Just the monster beside you. Your soon-to-be husband, who won your hand through bloodshed and deception.
Feyd-Rautha’s hand curls around your waist, guiding you towards his starship. With every step you take, further away from the Atreides castle, you feel more hollow.
“Come with me, my love. Let us go home to Giedi Prime,” the monster whispers.
You don’t put up a fight as you’re nudged inside the vessel, silently accepting your defeat. Feyd-Rautha plants a deep, slow kiss on your lips and you passively let it happen.
You admire the beautiful green fields of Caladan one last time before the doors close. An errant tear skips over your cheek. You likely will never see your planet again. And even if by some miracle you could return, you would be the enemy to all of them…even to your own family, who holds you responsible for Father’s untimely demise.
You peer down at your hands. If you let your mind wander, you start to relive that awful moment. That moment your father’s wet, warm blood coated your hands, dripping between your fingers. You will never wash off the stain, shed the guilt.
You wanted to feel the flames, experience the full-blown heat of something thrilling and new. Something you never had in your tedious, predictable existence before.
You in fact got to feel this heat. You walked through the fire and the flames consumed everything you held dear.
And now you stand amidst the ashes, everything you ever knew ripped from you forever.
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Finders Keepers
Pairing: bfd!Joel x Reader
Summary: Something about the sun in Cabo San Lucas and your best friend’s father’s sweaty body makes you a horny mess. When you find an old pink shirt of his lying around, you really can’t resist. When Mr. Miller finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.
Warnings: 18+. No plot, just porn! Age gap, size kink, praise kink, masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, choking, and a healthy dose of Daddy!Joel. Yes, I need to be locked away in a cage for how feral this man makes me.
A heatstroke would be a kindness in these conditions.
Seeing your best friend’s father frolicking around on the beach with his broad, bare chest on display, skin coated with sweat, and his swim trunks worn so tight you could practically taste the outline of his bulge with every step? That had been your own personal hell for the past hour.
Naturally, you’d had to fake a dehydrated spell and slip off to your villa for some much-needed sexual relief.
“Damn you, Mr. Miller,” you cursed, crawling across the bed with your fingers about to snake between your legs, “Why won’t you just pin me down and fuck me stupid?”
You knew the answer as well as anyone else that this man was totally off-limits—being your best friend’s dad and twice your age and all—but that wouldn’t stop you from touching yourself to the thought just the same.
The bottom half of your bikini was brushed crudely to the side as your fingers worked a furious circuit around your clit. Your hips bucked, head throbbed, insides churned with a fire you couldn’t even begin to describe, and all you could picture was Joel Miller lying there, eyes trained on you as he slotted himself between your legs and fucked you hard enough to break the bed in two.
You slipped your hand beneath a pillow, gripped the sheets under there in a fist, and closed your eyes. Then you yanked the fabric between your fingers and felt somewhat confused—and surprised.
When you looked to your left and lifted the pillow, you saw an odd pink fabric in your hand. You let it go and saw that it was a t-shirt. A big one.
No fucking way.
You would recognize that soft, heady, sandalwood scent anywhere.
It was Mr. Miller’s shirt.
You buried your nose in the material and inhaled as much of that sweet, delectable DILF as you could manage. Wanting him in you, on you, surrounding you completely with his scent so you could pretend he was there in that king-sized bed with you.
Before you could think, you threw the shirt on and grabbed the nearest pillow.
Fuck, you felt crazy. But by God, you were free.
You straddled the cushion between your thighs and rubbed your barely-clad cunt over the seam, whimpering to no one and nothing in particular. You closed your eyes and dragged your hips along that spot, humping it again and again, imagining it was Mr. Miller’s fat, throbbing member instead of a pillow and felt a rush.
“Oh, Joel— oh daddy, fuck me, please.”
You threw your head back and felt every bit the loud and obnoxious porn star as you rode to your heart’s content.
Your hand clamped down on the headboard and anchored your body in place, allowing you to grind your hips even harder. The sensation was crazy—nowhere near as insane as Mr. Miller’s own cock, you reckoned, but good enough—and the longer you rutted your lower half against that pillow, the closer you got to climax.
“I’m so fucking close, want you to cum all inside me.”
With one more protracted, lewd moan, you squeezed your legs together and were about to reach your release, when a sound at the far end of the room almost sent you, your pink t-shirt, and pillow flying off the bed in a panic.
Glass shattered on the ground. You tried desperately to throw the covers over your body and hide yourself.
To your horror, you saw a wide-eyed, petrified Joel Miller standing at the threshold of the room—holding a bottle of ibuprofen and, just seconds before, a cup of water.
The red-faced father of two turned as though he were about to leave, then, reconsidering why he had come up there in the first place, decided to try and play it cool.
“I…brought you some Advil,” he announced, awkward as a cow on roller skates.
You sat up and forced a smile. Tried to pretend like you weren’t just balls deep in a fantasy of him bending you over a table and railing you raw and senseless.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The two of you languished in the world’s longest, and most uncomfortable beat of silence, before Joel’s gaze presently fell to your chest. He couldn’t help himself.
“Is that my shirt?”
You glanced down. You could try and lie, maybe save face in one desperate, last-ditch effort.
“Yeah. It just, uh…smelled,” you said instead.
What the fuck was wrong with you?! Surely the Mai Tais hadn’t been that strong to make you act so fucking dumb. But then again, this was your lizard brain talking, and there was no telling how weird you could get around a man as handsome as Mr. Miller. It was humiliating.
To your surprise, your friend’s father just raised his brows and smiled. A bit strained and uncertain, to be sure, but at least he hadn’t fled the room. You watched as his eyes trailed down the length of your body and stopped somewhere around the hem of his shirt, where the fabric gave way to your soft, bare legs. You couldn’t work out if he was intrigued or simply amused. Derisive, even.
Fortunately for you, you didn’t have to stew on those thoughts for much longer, because Joel tossed the pill bottle to the side and made his way over to the bed.
Out of shock—and utter disbelief—you leapt back on the mattress and tried to make distance, but damn if Mr. Miller didn’t have some speed in those old bones. He easily snagged your ankle in one hand and dragged your body back to his. In the process, his oversized tee rolled up over your tummy and exposed your lower half to him, leaving you at an angle you never thought he’d see.
“So I smell?” he murmured, braving a hand up your thigh.
You actually wanted to die. In a good way.
You quickly recollected yourself and shook your head.
“No! No. Not at all, Mr. Miller, I just…I liked it a lot, actually,” you stammered, tensing when his fingers started to trace the skin of your thigh a little higher.
“How much?” Joel asked. This time he almost looked stern as he watched you react to his hand making its way to your heat. Particularly when he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your flimsy bikini bottom.
You couldn’t hope to hide the yelp that crept up your throat when he did. You’d just been humping a pillow, a half a breath away from orgasm, when he’d interrupted. Your whole body was sensitive, to say the least.
At length, Joel made circles with his thumb and watched you squirm when he brought his touch under your panties. He hummed, feeling you drenched between your legs.
“Oh, darlin’, this is awful,” he frowned.
You swallowed a whimper and raised your gaze to him.
“W-what? What’s awful?”
Right before he answered, Mr. Miller sank two fingers inside you, prodding them gently between your soft, fleshy walls and eliciting the softest of moans from you.
“How needy this sweet little thing is for me,” he tsked, curling his fingers to bring about an even louder sound, “How pathetic and wet and horny you’ve been getting for a dirty old man like me. Must hurt somethin’ terrible.”
He had you there. You were greedy and needy and soaking the sheets like you never had before, dripping more arousal the longer he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You watched Joel’s expression change, and suddenly he was retracting his hand and bringing it down to his shorts. Those tight, bright red, bulge-teasing swim trunks that had been driving you buckwild earlier.
His erection was considerably bigger now, swollen with desire and leaping out of his shorts the second he yanked down the fabric.
“I can make that hurt go away, honey. Just lay still.”
Were you a victim of the world’s most vivid, lust-filled lucid dream of all time or was this actually happening? You almost couldn’t believe when the strings of your bikini were loosened and your pussy laid bare before him, shortly met with the throbbing head of his cock.
“You do want me to get rid of that funny feeling, right?”
You almost snapped your neck nodding so fast.
Mr. Joel Miller was going to take care of you—make that terrible, tingling ache go away with his dick.
Before you had a chance to prepare, the man was pushing himself inside you. Searing your walls with that thick, veiny member you’d just been dreaming of before. You couldn’t believe how full you felt, how fantastic he smelled, how overwhelmingly present he was to make you feel as good as you could.
His thumb was back at your clit, pressing light as a feather as he wedged his cock further inside you.
“C’mon, honey, let daddy in,” he murmured low, close to your ear as he sank his length between your folds, “Let me make you feel good.”
You whimpered and grasped at his shoulders, legs wrapping tight around his waist like a vice.
“Feel better than you expected?” Joel smirked.
“Yes, daddy. So fucking good,” you groaned when you felt his pubic bone brush your own. His thumb kept working your bundle of nerves as his hips began to stir.
“How long have you been touching yourself to me, hm?”
His question was simple enough but the hardest for you to answer in your present condition, Joel’s thrusts just beginning to pick up the pace. His balls slapped lightly against your ass, and his whole frame enveloped you in bed, shaking the frame with every stroke he gave you.
“Since— since the day I met you,” you managed in a breath. That breath melded quickly to a strangled moan when Joel seized hold of the base of your throat.
“That long and you never asked me to help out, darlin’?” his voice was almost taunting, his thrusts growing faster.
In no time at all, he was slamming into you full-force, hand still wrapped around your neck and lips curled into a smile. He’d never say it aloud, but he’d been dreaming about you too, as long as he could remember, from the very first day his daughter had introduced you to him.
It was wrong—he knew it just as well as you did.
But that didn’t change the fact of how good you felt wrapped around him, taking every inch of his cock as he pounded you into the bed.
“You’ll promise—” he paused to drive the head of his cock to your cervix and make you whine underneath him, “—to tell me, next time you have one of these feelings?”
“I will. I-I promise,” you whimpered.
“Good girl.” Joel kissed the crown of your head before he went back to fucking you rough.
You were almost embarrassed to say it was happening this fast, but that hot, euphoric feeling was building up inside you. You clamped your bottom lip between your teeth and willed it not to happen—not to make a mess of Mr. Miller’s cock so soon—but the sensation was stronger than you. And Joel saw it, too.
“Is my good girl gonna cum for me?” he grunted.
When you started to answer, you felt his fingers make their way to your mouth and push sharply past your lips. Made you suck his index and middle fingers as he fucked you and had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
And, to your surprise, he kept talking you through it.
“Keep fucking me, honey, keep milking this cock. You’ve made it this far—might as well cum all over me, huh?”
He looked cocky and self-assured—the same old Mr. Miller that you’d come to know and love. Only this time, he was helping you through an orgasm, all stretched out over his member and desperate for release. You dug your heels in the small of his back and sucked his fingers even harder, nodding your head when he told you to cum for daddy, cum all over this cock.
It was arguably one of the best orgasms of your life, getting pounded hard and fast while Mr. Miller groaned above you and shot his own load deep inside you. Unlike before, with that pillow wedged between your thighs, you actually screamed from the pleasure, bit down on the man’s fingers and bounced back and forth as you rode out your high in a firestorm of fervor and bliss.
In short, you were fucked-out and happier than ever.
Joel collapsed beside you, seemingly feeling the same.
You weren’t sure how long you laid there, or when those smug, cunning features first appeared on his face, but suddenly he was up—propped beside you with a smile.
That handsome, grinning bastard trailed a finger to your neckline and tugged at the neon pink fabric of his shirt.
“So…when can I have this back?”
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑼𝑵ㅤㅤ
january free requestsㅤ ㅤ trafalgar law x f! reader
🕊️ request: @leftladyluminary ⋆。˚ Hello ( ^ω^ ) I was wondering if I could request a Law x fem!reader exploring a temple together that turns out to be a uh “procreation” temple the strongly affects those who enter? Please and thank you~ (╹◡╹)♡
🕊️ tw: mdni. raw, rough sex. vaginal. nipple play. pregnancy ideas implied. cream pie. wc: 1650
🕊️ masterlist
Zou is a humid place, very muddy as well. Your boots are dirty, and your clothing soaking wet. Those “Eruption Rains” become pretty inconvenient throughout the day, but they are necessary.
“I shouldn’t have worn a white shirt…” you tell Law, crossing your arms over your breasts.
“I would say you shouldn’t have worn it without a bra, (Name)-ya” Law says, squeezing and twisting his hat to drain it from the excess of water.
You sit down on a rock. Was it really necessary to say such thing? At best he should be a little bit happy to see your body through semi see through fabrics. What Law has just said felt painful to you, to say the least.
“You are right, I’m sorry” you mumble, walking away to find a proper place to hide and change your clothes. You are sure the ones in your backpack are as wet as your current ones, but something darker will do to cover up.
When the rivers formed in what are usually trails on top of Zuneesha’s back are finally dried, you find a very interesting construction ahead. Curious, as always, you come closer to discover it is a shrine.
“What a beautiful place” you comment in awe. Law seems to be anywhere else. He is probably near, but not close to you.
Curious, you put a step inside the shrine. It isn’t necessarily different from the rest of the temples you have attended in this long journey of piracy. However, somehow in the aura feels unusual to you.
The scent of incense smells more flowery, sweet, maybe even a little bit spicy. The Vitreaux windows create incredible depictions of Orchids on the ground, as the sun filters its rains through them. And the altar has a very distinctive little statue that calls for your hand to touch.
“I wonder what’s this shrine about? What god is meant to be built for? In fact, do Minks have gods?” you ask yourself, making mental notes to ask Wanda once you are back from your expedition.
Your eyes scan the golden sculpture, it looks like two creatures tangled into each other. You would lie if you said you didn’t think of them having sex, and in fact you giggle for your “witty” thoughts.
There isn’t much to discover besides what you have just seen, but a little sign engraved in an old piece of wood.
“you shall keep your blood flowing; the warriors of the Sun must never disappear; they will fight for freedom and unity during this dark night”
You smile; and immediately after reading you remember Luffy. Even Law recognizes he is as shiny as the Sun itself. You don’t really think much of the true meaning of the sign, and soon after find Law looking at you from the very entrance.
“I turned around and you were gone, I didn’t know where you were” he asks, still soaking wet like a cat left out in the rain and looking a little bit mad at you for disappearing.
You could have picked a fight; you probably could have just brushed it off. But neither of those were your reaction, and unconsciously you lift your arms to stretch. The white shirt, still soaking wet, kept the transparency and with that the show off of your hard nipples presented to Law in its full beauty.
“I’m sorry, I was looking for a place to change” you tell him, with a rather sexy tone.
Law’s sun burnt cheeks turn red, golden eyes widening, pupils getting bigger. The little hints of black eyeliner smudge on his already dark tinted under eyes, the juicy pale lips of your captain slowly separating.
“You thought of changing on a shrine? Getting naked on a temple, (Name)-ya?” he asks, coming closer to you as he lets his yellow bag fall on the floor. Law walks like a snow leopard, slowly, menacing, sexily…
You swallow. That’s not his usual self, not at least with you. He looks like he is about to fight you, or even hurt you.
“L-Law, I wanted to put on a shirt over this one so that my breasts won-“ you shut up, as he strikes you and pins you against the altar.
You put your arms back to get a grip of something as you lose balance. Your hand reaches something cold and tiny and immediately after, his warm inked hand falls on top of yours.
Both, at the same time, touch the little statue behind and it feels like a new energy begins to run through your veins. It doesn’t take you long to finally succumb into a lustful, inappropriate kiss. His hands, all over your waist, lift the wet shirt that’s begun to get hot and too heavy on your skin.
“I have no idea what force is making me do this, but believe me I am not mad about it, (Name)-ya” Law whispers, in between panting and with his lips grazing yours.
“I have no idea either, but don’t you dare stop…”
The Surgeon of Death attacks your lips once again, this time while freeing you completely from your wet coverings… even if, something else in you was getting wetter by the moment.
Maybe it was the force of doing something so incorrect, so unholy on a sacred place… or maybe it was your love? Or even, both? Who knows, perhaps it was something else but the more you kiss, the more your bodies slide down until your back hits the red carpet covered floor.
Law’s tattooed hands squeeze and play with your breasts, almost like a beast ready to engulf his prey. “You wanted me to do this, don’t you?” he asks, reaching for one of your hard nipples, kissing the erected surface and then trapping it with his lips.
“Honestly, yes. I missed your touch…” you moan, realizing you are finally able to indulge in sex. It’s been long enough since you could touch each other, since you could be this intimate.
“I know, I’m sorry…” he whispers, planting a soft kiss on your chest.
You know there is nothing to forgive, and immediately after you notice his stitched arm holding the weight of his body on top of you.
“Law… can I be on top this time?” you ask, kissing the scar of his biceps.
His golden eyes shine brightly, apparently he loved the question and nods energetically, even if he felt embarrassed seconds after for doing so.
Soon, you take his place, undressing him faster and straddling your hips on his lap. He is hard, and the grey underwear completely soaked let nothing to the imagination. Deliciously tempting, you feel the impulse to your use your mouth before anything else, but the need of having him inside you is stronger… something invisible is making you desire his seed would fill your womb on and on and on.
You lift your ass from his lap, just a little for your hand to pass through your moved to the side panties and his hardness.
Law gasps when he understands you are not there to waist time on any other type of pleasure that his dick deep inside you.
“Now? but I don’t- I don’t have prot-“ he stutters, fighting in between the need of fucking you rough and reproduction health matters.
“You don’t really need it, I want you raw and rough in me…” you purr, guiding his sex towards your dripping entrance.
Your labia devours his tip, engulfing it with a warm slippery sensation. Law’s neck muscles tense, his head gets thrown back, a moan escapes his lips that resonates all over the shrine.
You do the same as you let yourself fall on top of him for his shaft to be finally entirely inside you. A whine so loud that mixes with his, and it becomes never ending as you start to hump on top of him.
Your hips move up and down, back, and forth and also in circles. Law’s fingers carve marks on the side of your hips and sometimes travel to the small of your back to press you against him with divine force. His hips, who up until now where immobile as pleasure struck him harder than he could ever expected, begin to move too.
“Nggh… let me fuck you faster…” he moans, using all of his strength coming from his core to impale you harder and synchronized to the rhythm of your jumps. The sound of wet sweaty skin slapping against the other become a sacred melody all around, while your nails carve marks as you grip from his heart tattooed pecs.
It doesn’t take you longer for your climaxes to arrive, and while your fingers intertwined with Law’s, your spasming walls milk him so violently… so needy, desperate for his release…
His frown intensifies, he even bites his lower lip but his eyes never shut as his pupils only fix into yours. As if his gaze was trying to anticipate something both knew, willingly to do whatever it takes to make his seed plant on you… deep, inside, of you.
“Fill me up…”
“Keep it all inside…”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ...
“Wanda, may I ask you something?” you tap on her soft furry shoulder.
“Yes, honey. Tell me, what is it? Are you ok? You look very tired” the mink says, curious and perhaps a little worried about your state… truth Law wasn’t satisfied with just one round.
“So, I found a Shrine on the forest. It had a little statue; I didn’t get exactly what it was representing. But I remember reading a sign that said something about the warriors of the sun should prevail” you explain.
Wanda giggles. “Well, now I know why you are that tired… you went there with Trafalgar, didn’t you? it’s the procreation shrine, ruled by the sun lovers. That’s where we go to pray when we wanna bear children.. it said to be special forces that help us get pregnant”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Oh…”
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From parents to babies - Batfam x fem!reader
Synopsis : You and Bruce got turned into toddlers !! Shenanigans ensue, of course.
This is part of a little “series” I guess, here’s the first part with Jason : Jason Todd(ler). I’m planning on writing a lil story for all the kids hehe, but I thought : “hey, what about Batmom and Bruce ?” and here we are. Hope you’ll like this !
Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.
My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives
_________________________________________________
“Bruce !”
“(Y/N) !”
You manage to scream each other’s names before-
Before a white flash engulfed the both of you, and you suddenly disappeared, only a pool of your clothes remaining where you once stood.
“Nooooo !!” is the last thing you hear before your mind goes blank, and you recognize the voice as being your youngest son’s, Damian. The sound of his scream greatly distresses you, but alas, you cannot do anything to help as you feel yourself slowly fading away and-
Footsteps. Running fast to reach the place you stood on merely seconds before. But you’re not there anymore, you’re not there !
“It’s not possible !”
That’s Jason. His voice breaking at the end of his sentence, as he approaches the bunch of clothes left on the floor, a lump in his throat as the inevitable is starting to be clearer and clearer, and he cannot refuse reality anymore.
Vaporized. His parents just got vaporized by that wannabe-magician’s laser !
In the mess of it all, that asshole even escaped ! Which was a good thing, in a way, because Jason promised you and Bruce he would never kill again, but he wasn’t sure he could hold that promise if he was faced with the man who took away his beloved parents.
You all only just made peace with each other, only just became a family again ! How was he suppose to go on losing you once more ?
Dick was the first to reach the spot in which you were. He had always been the fastest of them all. His heart beats too fast in his chest, and he has this horrible thought that it’s the second time he sees his parents being killed right in front of him when-
Movements. Small movements. There, amongst his father’s suit. And there, amongst his mother’s clothes. And then-
Little hands. Fighting to find an exit in this labyrinth of fabrics. Little grunts of frustration, like when a child is trying to do something but doesn’t quite manage to do it. Finally finding an out. And-
“Oh shit.”
Dick says, as he stares at- Two kids ??
One, a little boy. who couldn’t be more than two years old, black hair, bright blue eyes. The second one, (E/C) eyes and (H/C) hair and-
“Oh shit.”
Tim says, as he’s the second one to reach the place and he immediately understands that his parents aren’t dead, but rather...
They’ve been turned into toddlers !
“Oh shit !” You exclaim happily, giggling.
“Oh shit !” Baby Bruce repeats, and you both look at each other and giggle even more. Damn it. They’ve been in the care of children for only a second, and they already taught you bad words !
Bruce reaches for you, and there’s no doubt now that those two kids are indeed you and your husband ! Because immediately, you move closer to each other, your clothe much too big for you now being like blankets on you.
Dick picks the both of you up, wrapping you in the cloths, and turns around to greet his siblings.
Slowly, all your children reach you and-
“Oh shit !” You and Bruce say in unison, proud to show everyone (whomever those people were) that new word you just learned.
And “oh shit” indeed, is on all of your kids’ mind.
************
Of course, it had to happen when Alfred was away on his one vacation a year...Of freaking course.
It wouldn’t be funny otherwise, right ?
Only Alfred, could find a solution to this problem ! Your kids were totally lost !
Evidently, neither you nor Bruce remembered who you really were. You were clearly just two two years old.
And it seemed you didn’t mind being picked up by people you didn’t know, as long as you could stay together (you two downright SCREAMED so loudly, when Jason tried to take you from Dick’s arms so his brother wouldn’t have to hold the both of you).
It was as if that, at least, remained. Your bond.
As if you were just- Instant friends, or something.
They got you home, and :
“Ok, any of you ever took care of babies ?”
“Me not baby !” You say, glaring at your oldest son. It’s true, you knew you were two (somehow), you were no baby anymore !
“I’m sorry mom, I just- Oh gods this is so weird.”
And it truly was, weird, to see their parents, the two people they knew they could always count on if they had a problem, being literal children.
They couldn’t call them for help, you guys barely knew how to properly walk ! And had a very small vocabulary, too...Dick shook his head. This wasn’t a time to diss babies, this really wasn’t the time !
“Ok, first things first, we need to find them clothes. Duke, Jason, go the a shop and get them some stuffs to wear. While Cass and I will go buy some food for them. Damian and Dick, stay here and take care of them.” Aaaah Tim, ever so pragmatic. In a matter of seconds, he had gotten over the shock of the situation, and was taking matter in his own hands.
And it was good. It was a start. They had no idea what they were going to do after, except the fact they had to find a way to get you back to normal. But at least, they had the beginning of a plan.
They knew they could all count on Tim for plans. From A to Z, he would find a way. He had no idea how to take care of babies, of course, but his mind could find solutions to every problems.
Yes. Yes. They only had to start moving. And things would be alright. They could do this.
They could do this.
They had to do this, for both your sake.
************
Officially, Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne went away on a surprise vacation. Your disappearance had to be explained.
None of your kids called Alfred, the butler deserved his annually vacation after all, and they knew he would come right home if he heard. So they let him be, and started to take care of their “baby parents”.
Brucie ish scared
Before being the way Gotham’s media, models and such, called him when he still had his playboy persona, and not his “family man” one that he now had, “Brucie” was the nickname his mom gave him.
Never in public, of course, but when they were home. When she was telling him bed time stories or singing lullabies to him. When she woke him up, gently, in the mornings. When she told him to come home for dinner, as he was playing in the garden.
“Brucie”, was a name Bruce always associated with his mother’s affection and love. Which is why he hated how the media, and certain people, self-appropriated that name, and associated it with that persona who wasn’t even himself.
It’s not like he could do anything about it, though. He had a role to play.
And so, “Brucie” became that “other him”, while initially, it was his true self...
It had been years, since anyone had called him that. He wasn't a playboy, anymore, and your little nickname for him (aside from “my heart” and other term of endearment) was “my Broosh”.
And so finally, this name came full circle.
Brucie.
That’s how he called himself. Toddlers had that tendency to talk about themselves in the third person, sometimes. And Bruce, was referring to himself as “Brucie”, not “Bruce”.
Your children were a hundred percent sure it was because even if he didn’t seem to ask for his parents, a part of him remembered them, and how his mom called him.
Even turned into a toddler who didn’t remember much of his own life, Bruce still had his parents in mind.
And so he called himself Brucie.
And Brucie was a scaredy cat !
The irony of which didn’t escape any of your kids.
What, the “fearless Batman” was afraid of literally everything ? That was funny. Dick made sure to take PLENTY of videos (just if he needed leverage for something one day).
Brucie got scared of the vacuum cleaner. Brucie got scared of the dark. Brucie got scared of any noise that was too loud. Brucie got scared whenever (Y/N) wasn’t around. Brucie-
“Brucie ish scared !” He’d whimper, and run towards the closest “adult” he could find (any of your children, though over half of them were far from being official adults), seeking comfort.
Every time, and it was the most adorable thing to witness, you’d rush to him, and hold him saying : “No scared Brooshie, no scared, me here. Me here.”
First, “Brooshie” = so darn cute, a toddler adaptation of the traditional “Broosh”. Second, the way you’d shield him in your little arms, and how he’d hide his face and close his eyes, how he’d hold onto you and calm down as you told him to not be scared, it had to be peak adorableness.
And in a way, toddlers you were a good reflection of adults you.
Bruce was no longer scared, in the strictest sense of the term. He had shunned all his emotions, locked them away deep in his heart, for years. Ignored his pain, and the remnant of his fears.
And then you came in, and forced open his heart, shattering all the walls he build for years, and making it impossible for him to live without you (and vice versa).
Just as Baby Bruce found comfort and safety in your arms, just as he was soothed by your voice, Adult Bruce knew he could always be safe and warm in your embrace.
Nobody, when witnessing such scenes, could even dare say you weren’t made for each other.
DICK
It was so weird.
Dick just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you two were turned into kids. Like, what ?
His...parents were now younger than him. How weird was that ??
Of course, he knew he should be used to weird things by now. After all, over the years, from when he first became Robin to now, he had seen his fair share of strange stuffs. But this-
This was really, really odd.
“Ick !” was the name you and Bruce decided to give him. No matter how many times he made you repeat it, you could never truly manage to say his name properly. And so, he was now “Ick”.
And “Ick” had no clue how to take care of children.
Was this how Bruce felt, when he officially adopted him ? Was this how you felt, when you became his mom while being so young ?
Of course, Dick was older when he first arrived. But he was also a lot more traumatized. And he knew he could be difficult, at times. He could be so damn angry, back then.
While you and Bruce ? You were adorable kids. You’d listen to him, and never talk back. What, you were supposed to be in your “terrible twos” era, yet it seemed like you were just good kids.
Of course, the fact that your eldest son let you do absolutely everything you wanted might’ve been a reason as to why you two were so “nice” with him, and didn’t throw any tantrum.
No tantrum needed, when the person taking care of you would let you do whatever you wanted.
You didn’t wanna wear pants ? No problems. You didn’t want to eat your vegetables, but wanted sweets instead ? All good. You didn’t want to take a nap ? Then he could play with you a little longer.
Yes. It became quite apparent that Dick could not resist you, at all.
Which wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Because he was the same way with his siblings. They could make him do whatever they wanted to (outside of work, of course. When they were vigilantes, it was an entire other story, but it was because he often had to take the “leader” job, and a mistake could cost a life).
And so, even though he found it extremely weird, and couldn’t quite call you “mom” and “dad” anymore (and who would blame him ?), he didn’t hate taking care of you.
He sort of saw it as “payback”, for all the years you put up with his moods. For all the time you didn’t give up on him, and all the moments you were there to catch him when he fell.
The reason he found it so hard to accept and fathom the situation, was because you and Bruce had become such “safety nets”, for him.
You were his parents. He couldn’t think of a life without you. Without your guidance. Without your soothing words. Without your scolding, when he needed one. Without-
He couldn’t accept this turn of event, because he needed you. He had pushed you enough, in his teenage years and early adulthood. Now, he realized he absolutely needed his parents.
He had to find a solution, and fast. Because although he didn’t mind taking care of you as you were nice kids, he just wanted his parents back.
JASON
Jason was the most responsible one.
Which, when people knew your children, wasn’t that surprising.
He’d always been a responsible kid, despite what anyone could think.
He was a really good big brother, always looking out for his little siblings, and being there to be their voice of reason (Dick being his...he had a "decent teacher”).
And so he became the “mom” of the house (it’s a nickname Tim, Duke and Damian gave him, when he wasn’t there).
He had always loved cooking, ever since he was a kid. So he took it upon himself to cook healthy meals for both you and Bruce, and would scold Dick whenever he’d caught his brother red handed giving you candies and other ice cream right before dinner !
Bruce hated carrots, and you despised spinach. Other than that, it seemed you were willing to try everything he made for you two.
Jason spend hours on the internet searching for recipes fit for two years old, for things you should feed kids this young. And he came up with quite a diet for the both of you.
The food he made was delicious (and more than once, he caught one of his sibling eating from your spoon instead of feeding you !).
Jason would be the one to remind everyone of yours and Bruce’s bed time. After all, “bed time” in the Wayne household had always been a little;..different, to say the least. But with toddlers ? It couldn’t be. It had to be regular, or they’d be too tired.
Jason made a carefully planned sleep schedule for his “parents”. And when he wasn’t the one babysitting at night (they all took shifts so they could still do their vigilante jobs), he would call his sibling when it was bed time to make sure they’d respect it. He would genuinely harass Dick, because he knew his older brother was “weak” and could never refuse puppy eyes (after all, he abused of that technique to get him to do whatever he wanted, when he was younger), and he had to be reminded that a regular bed time was important !
How odd it was, for thugs, being downright beaten down by the scary Red Hood, while the latter would talk in his income and say things like : “I can’t believe you gave them ice cream before sleepy time again !” and others : “They’re babies, they need at least ten hours of sleep !”
Jason didn’t let any tantrum through. Where Dick would just let you and Bruce do whatever you wanted, Jason had clear limits.
Because that is how you raised him. Sure, Bruce could be a little too strict sometimes, especially with Dick. But he had grown as a father, and slowly learned the difference between being too rigid and allowing his kids to be kids.
Jason often joked that Dick was the “trial and error” era, but he wasn’t too far off. With Dick, you and Bruce made plenty of mistakes. You did with your other kids too, of course, but with your eldest most of all. Because he was your first child, and you had no idea what you were doing at the time.
But, yes. Jason knew the importance of limits, for children. Kids needed boundaries, so they could feel safe. He knew, because it totally worked on him.
And so, you’d have a tantrum ? Too bad, you’d just have to calm down and ask again nicely. Jason was intransigeant.
He was, though, the first one there if you or Bruce woke up crying during the night. And he’d take you in his arms (always the both of you at the same time), and sing to you. Or tell you stories. Up until you’d fall asleep again.
Jason, although he had strict schedules and food diet, was such a gentle soul. Such a gentle carer. You knew that one day, he would make a great dad. And if that experience taught any of you anything, it was that yes, yes.
Jason told would one day make a wonderful father.
TIM
"I think he doesn’t like me...”
Tim said, deflated and defeated, as, once again, his dad (in baby form) cowered away from him as he approached.
You ? You enjoyed being taken care of by Tim. You liked him very much. But for some reasons, “Brucie” seemed scared of him.
“Don’t say that. I think he’s just- shy.”
“Conner, honey, I appreciate you trying to comfort me, but if he was truly shy, he wouldn’t just- Oh come on !”
Of course, Bruce chose that exact moment to jump in Conner’s arms, and to hide his face in his chest so he wouldn’t see Tim anymore. Superboy chuckled uncomfortably, trying to act as if it wasn’t because Bruce was scared or anything, but Tim couldn’t be fooled.
Tim could never be fooled.
And so he sighed, and held you a little closer. At least, his mom always loved him, no matter what age she was.
You seemed to understand that Bruce’s actions made Tim sad, and even as a toddler, it greatly distressed you to see one of your “kids” sad. So you wiggled to signify to Tim that you want him to put you back down and-
“Oh, not you too, mom ?”
You walk towards Conner, and Tim looks even sadder, as now, both of his “parents” seem to like others better than him...Even if they were just kids, and that Tim knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, his feelings were still hurt.
But then-
You shake Conner’s pants, signifying for him to crouch down to your level. Baby Bruce is in his arms, and beams as he sees you.
“’Own, ‘own !” He says, meaning “down”, and Conner puts him next to you.
Immediately, Bruce takes your hand, and smiles widely. Which comforts Tim a little. At least, even as toddlers, it seemed you two were inseparable.
But then, you drag him towards Tim, and it’s obvious Bruce only follows because he seems very attached to you. The little boy does not want to be there, in front of Timothy Wayne-Drake.
And Tim looks down, sadly. He ruffles your hair affectionately, and says :
“Good try mom, good try. But I don't think he likes me, at all.”
You look at Tim, and then turns around towards Bruce, who was currently hiding behind you (how cute it was, that you always seemed to protect him when he was scared). But this time, you’d have none of it.
Very much alike when you were adults, and you took none of your husband’s shit. You’d always set him back on track. Always.
And so, toddler you said :
“Bwooshie, Tim nice ! Tim good ! Tim fwiend !”
You let go of Bruce’s hand, and the boy whimpers and tries to catch your hand again, but takes a few steps back because he doesn’t want to get too close from Tim. But then-
Then you hop in Tim’s arms, and you snuggle against him. You smile at Bruce, and nods at him saying again : “Tim fwiend ! Tim nice !” and your son cannot help himself and hold you tight.
Even turned into a toddler, he could count on his mama to cheer him up, it seemed...
Slowly, unsure, Bruce approached Tim. The boy was still obviously wary, but those were first steps.
After a while, Bruce finally came towards Tim, and laid his hands on your son’s knees.
He looked deeply into Tim’s eyes, and must’ve finally decided that he wasn’t so scary, because then, he climbed into his laps and everything was resolved.
And oh, oh how much this meant to Tim...
DAMIAN
“Father, you need to give her some air. I swear, even as children you two are impossible !”
“AAAAAAAAAAH !” is Bruce’s response, as Damian tries to take him away from you. Apparently, young Bruce seemed to think screaming was an appropriate response to show his unwillingness to do something.
And it frustrated Damian greatly.
You had fallen asleep on the floor. Laid on your back, you were in a deep slumber, a pacifier in your mouth, your breathing regular. And Bruce was sitting next to you, your head was in his lap, and he was watching TV as one of his hand was on your head, the other one on your cheek.
He too, had a pacifier in his mouth, and although he was focused on the TV show he was watching, it seemed like he had absolutely no intention on letting you go.
When Damian entered the room, he found the both of you like that, and decided it would be better if you slept in your bed. So he went to pick you up, gently taking his father’s hands off of you and-
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH !” The pacifier falls from his mouth, as he tightens his grip on you, and glares at a bewildered Damian.
You’re so deep asleep that you don’t budge, and then Bruce, after glaring some more at Damian, turns back to watch the TV.
But Damian will have none of it. “Be firm, sometimes.” Jason told him, and he was going to take his big brother advice to heart ! And so he made Bruce let go, and took you into his arms.
After a pause, as Baby Bruce was too shocked to react, his mouth slowly turned down into a frown and-
The little boy bursted into tears. Big, real tears. Ugly sobs with lots of snots running down his nose.
And it made Damian panic.
He hated that. He hated those cries. It reminded him of so many bad memories. He couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t bear it.
Even less so knowing this was his dad !
And so he quickly went to the floor, and took little Bruce in his arms, soothing him expertly as he was still holding you in his other arms.
His shirt was wet from Bruce holding onto it and burying his face into it. But eventually, the boy’s sobs died down, and-
Asleep.
Bruce was fast asleep, too. And his little face looked so at ease.
There. In Damian’s arms, a hand holding one of your hand.
It reminded him of his father as an adult, in fact. How sometimes, he would surprise you and him as you fell asleep on the couch in each other’s arms. And how his father’s face would look the most relaxed and pleased, when you were holding him...
Damian tightened his grip on both of you. He was ready to protect you even if it meant he would have to sacrifice himself !
And oh- Oh he felt something growing inside him. Something important.
Eventually, you and Bruce would be back to normal. He knew it, he knew his siblings would figure something out. Yes. You’d become his parents again.
But he-
He somehow wanted a baby, in this house.
CASS
You both clearly adored Cass.
You would walk towards her, and demand for her to pick you up. And then, when she would inevitably do it, you’d both snuggle against her and quickly fall asleep, absolutely content.
Damian mentioned that he read somewhere that children felt people’s calmness. And so he conjectured that you liked falling asleep on her, because you felt calmed and secure.
Which was the truth.
It made Cass’ heart melt. She, for obvious reasons, never held children before. And she definitely never thought that the first kids she would hold would be her own parents...
Physical touch had always soothed Cass.
Before she met you and Bruce, she was never allowed to be touch, and to touch other. She’d never receive a hug, or a soothing kiss.
Never.
So when you adopted her, she swore she’d take every opportunity to snuggle against you. Against her parents. Oh, and her brothers. None of them could resist a hug from her, not even Jason or Damian.
If Cass wanted a hug, she would have it.
So, she felt so fulfilled, when baby you and baby Bruce came to seek hugs from her. As if everything went full circle.
You and your husband gave her the comfort of parental love. Gave her the safety of your arms, and taught her how important it was to have people you loved close.
And here she was, soothing little versions of you, making you stop crying just by holding you.
Yes. It was a full, nice, comforting and warm circle.
And Cass felt so happy, when you hugged her. Whether you were kids or adults.
DUKE
Duke had tons of little cousins.
Cousins he still saw now, of course. None of his uncles and aunts could take him in, for different reasons (the main one being that none of them lived in Gotham anymore, what happened to Duke’s parents being the last straw...And Duke did not want to leave the city just yet). But he still stayed in contact with them.
Before they all moved, Duke, who was the oldest of the kids in his family, used to babysit his cousins all the time. So, he had experience with children.
And it showed.
With you and Bruce, he was nice, yet strict. He (and Jason) was the only one who didn’t let you do whatever you wanted, and who would plainly ignore any of your tantrums.
He was the only one able to detach himself from the fact you were his parents, and viewed you as normal children he had to take care of.
This is probably what saved him. What made him be able to live with that situation. Just like Dick, he really wanted you back to normal. But his defense mechanism was to pretend you weren’t you, but random kids he had in his care.
It was a lot, for a seventeen years old, but Duke was strong.
You’d always known he was strong, from the moment he became your ward, to now, as he was officially adopted and called you “mom”.
For his own sanity, Duke viewed this as a “baby sitter” job, and so, on purpose, didn’t get attached to baby you and baby Bruce too much. He didn't want to, because he didn’t want you to stay like that.
He wanted his parents back too, he needed you still, he was too young to lose parents a second time !
And so Duke shut his feelings away, and took care of you as if you weren’t really you. He gave you lots of care and love, as a child needed, but-
But he pretended you, as his parents, were away for a while. And constantly thought of a plan to get you back to your normal self.
They never sleep alone
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!” Baby Bruce screamed, as loud as he could, holding onto your hands for dear life.
“Me not want, me not want !” You say, kicking Dick with your little legs and holding Brucie’s hands too.
Your kids quickly realized that they COULD NOT separate you for bed time.
They had bought two children’s bed, but in the end, only one was used. You’d fall asleep all snuggled to each others, pacifier in your mouth.
“It’s- Kind of like when they’re grown up.” Damian says, and they all nod.
Yes. Yes it’s true that you two found it really hard to find sleep, when the other one was absent. True insomnia would hit you, in the event that one of you couldn’t be here for the night.
What transpired in your toddler form, how you’d scream if separated, also existed with the adult versions of you.
And it comforted your children, in a way.
They knew that their parents were still in there, somewhere.
ACE
“Doggy !” Little Bruce beamed happily, as he ran as fast as he could towards..Well, his dog, actually.
Ace was taken aback, at first, as he recognized his master’s smell, but couldn’t figure out why he was so...small.
Bruce ran to him, and literally fell on the dog hugging him tightly.
“Doggy !” The little boy said, and your children felt their heart melt.
None of them ever thought they’d ever call their dad “cute”, despite you trying to convince them that he really could be cute (some would say you were biased).
But here, in that moment, as their dad seemed so damn happy just because of his dog, no other words came to their minds.
Cute.
Unruly little buggers !!
You two, together, could be...
“Tornadoes !! They’re goddamn tornadoes !!” Jason screams, as he was running after you.
You were wearing only your diaper, managing to escape the grasp of your son by taking sharp turns there and there, and knocking down every single things on your way.
On the other side of the living room, Tim and Damian were trying to catch Bruce, as he was doing the exact same things.
Ten seconds.
They left the both of you alone for less than ten seconds !!
And when they came back, you and Bruce apparently had decided that it was fun to break extremely valuable objects, including vase, and a large array of ornaments.
You were giggling like a little devil, as you slowly devastated the living room.
“Alfred is going to kill us !” Duke says, holding his head in his hands, standing there watching the disaster unfold in front of him. What else could he do, really, when some of Gotham’s mightiest heroes couldn’t even get a hold of you ??
Finally, Jason catches you, just as Tim lunges forward and grasp his dad as well. The two of you wiggle like snakes as you try to get away, but you do not cry.
No, on the contrary, you both laugh way too loudly, probably thinking that “destroying the house” was a great game.
And your kids could swear that your laughs were genuine “evil laughs”.
Later, on the security camera, they’d know what happened.
At first, you were both sitting on the floor, playing with toys, waiting patiently. But then, Bruce got on his feet, and walked that wobbly unsure walk all children have at first towards the coffee table.
Something had caught his attention. It was a small crystal vase, that Alfred had put there years ago, for decoration. It went splendidly with the carpet, and matched the room perfectly.
And it was shiny, and Bruce wanted it.
He tried to climb on the coffee table, wiggling his little butt to give himself some momentum and get on it...but he couldn’t do it. That’s when you came into action, and pushed him so he would get on.
He turned around, and giggled, as if to thank you, and then-
Then he brought you the vase.
It was quite adorable, really. He wanted it, because it was shiny and looked cool. But then he decided to give it to you, instead.
He let himself fall on the floor from the coffee table once he gave you the vase, and you both stared at it for a second. Before, for some reason, you took it and threw it hard on the wall !
Seriously, sometimes, kids were absolutely impossible to understand. What made you want to suddenly throw that vase like that ? Nobody would ever know. But what was known, is that it seemed like both you and Bruce liked that, because you looked at each others, as if conniving, and pushed yourself off of the floor, standing up.
And then, as your children entered the room with some food, you proceeded to start destroying everything you could get your hands on, up until they finally managed to get a hold on you.
And your downright EVIL laughter filled the room.
Your kids were DEFINITELY going to get that security camera footage out one day again, if you ever decided to punish them or scold them about something.
Back to normal
Zatanna, as usual, to the rescue.
When your kids were finally able to reach her. She arrived barely minutes after they exposed the problems to her. She had been in another dimension, and therefor couldn’t be reached for a while.
From her understanding, it’s been almost a month since you turned into toddlers. And finally, she was there (which was good, because Alfred’s one month vacation a year was coming to an end, and your kids really wanted to pretend nothing ever happened).
Ah but she was accompanied by an unwanted visitor...
“What are you doing here, Constantine ?” Damian asks, holding you in one arm, and his father in the other. Protectively.
“What, I learn that the big bad bat got turned into a kid and you think I could miss that ? No bloody way haha. Curiosity got the best of me !”
“I’m sorry guys, I didn’t mean to tell him but he was there when you called...”
“It’s all good aunt Z, it’s all good. To be fair, I was hoping someone else would see this too, so we can NEVER let them forget they had to wear diapers again haha.”
“Grayson !” your youngest son exclaimed. It’s been a while, since Damian called Dick “Grayson”, but he was absolutely shocked about this “betrayal” !
“Ok, ok. Let’s make sure dad never forget he had to wear diaper again !”
Damian thought about it for a while, and then said : “And you’ll leave mom alone ?”
“Yes, promised.” Dick says, and Constantine nods too (he wasn’t about to mock you anyway, he was too scared of you).
“Alright, then it’s acceptable.”
And on that note, Zatanna started a ritual.
************
“What the hell happened ??” Are Bruce’s first words. And then, he sees you, and takes you into his arms, holding you with almost too strongly.
“I thought I had lost you...” He whispers, and you hold him back just as strongly, because you had the same thought. The last thing you remembered, after all, was that laser coming towards the two of you and then-
And then what ?
After letting you hug each other, your children finally tell you what went on.
And oh. Oh you were so damn proud of them, they did so good !
I want a baby sibling
A few weeks went by.
A few weeks, during which both Dick and John Constantine flooded the group chat all the supers had together with baby pictures of the Batman (oddly enough, they didn’t divulge any picture of you...probably because you scared them a little), and embarrassing videos. It was an endless source of jokes, and teasing from everyone.
But you didn’t worry too much though, you knew your husband would have his revenge (in fact, you were more worried for your son and for Constantine than anything else).
In any case, that episode would be soon behind you, save for a few mockeries there and there. At least, that’s what you thought.
One morning, Damian just casually entered your bedroom and stood before your bed, staring at the two of you, as you were slowly leaving the dream world.
You thought it was an emergency, at first, as none of your children would ever dare to just walk in your bedroom like that (lest they witness something that could scar them for life). But Damian calculated the risks.
It was much too early, for either of you to be awake. So it was safe. And so he came in, without knocking, and planted his feet resolutely in the floor, his hands on his waist, staring the both of you down.
“What is it, buddy ?” You ask, half-asleep. Bruce, his hair a mess, sat up, dazed.
“I came to an important decision. One taken in the light of recent events.”
Confused, neither you nor your husband say anything. Waiting for what your son is going to say next. Slowly, he turns around, and starts to walk left, then right, then left...Pacing in front of your bed, his eyes never leaving you two.
Finally, he stops, and solemnly says :
“I want a baby sibling. Sister or brother I do not care, I just want a little one to take care of, and to be a big brother. I think, I am done being the youngest.”
Bruce stares dumbly at his son, his face blank and expressionless, sure now that he must still be dreaming. And you’re not doing any better. You blink fast a few time, and repeat :
“A baby sibling ?”
Damian doesn’t miss a beat as he says :
“That’s right. Like I said, a little brother or sister, it does not matter to me, as long as it’s mine. My little brother or sister, I mean. Of course, they’ll be their own person, and we won’t own them per se. We’ll just take care of them.”
Silence.
A long silence.
Finally broken by your son :
“Well. I’ll leave you to it then. I expect you will take my request seriously. We will talk about it again another day. Thank you for listening to me, and see you at breakfast.”
And on that note, your son leaves just as casually, as you look at him, astonished.
You turn to your husband and-
You know what he’s thinking. You and Bruce never talked about having biological children, because the kids you already have were always enough for your happiness. You didn’t need more, you already loved them so much.
But you both always told yourselves that if it were to happen...
Of course, you would accept it. You would raise that child with joy, too. It would be quite a bonus, to an already happy life.
And so as your son leaves, and you look at each others you think-
A baby in the house, wouldn’t be so bad.
__________________________________________________
Well, here we are ! I hope you liked this ! As per usual, comments/reblogs are more than welcomed, and always a great motivation to post more :). Don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought of this ! It always makes the time spend on a story worth it, when I hear from y’all :) <3. Thanks in advance, and thanks for reading this, too ! See you soon with another story !
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Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 2 (m)
Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader
Summary - the last hurdle in your relationship had finally been crossed and erik no longer felt the need to hide such a pivotal aspect of himself away from you anymore. but now all the barriers had fallen and the mask was removed, there was one last thing you craved. and erik, for some reason, was very against participating.
Warnings - erik having major moodswings, apologies and forgiveness, poor self esteem, possessiveness, accidental mask slip, erik panicking, sexual and innocent teasing, teeth rotting fluff, victorian purity culture and potentially misinformed discussions of christianity (oops), y/n knows what she wants and she wants it now, reader isn’t particularly chubby or skinny just average size, virginity loss, breast play, hand jobs (m receiving), unintentional edging, continuous position changing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex because the victorians did not vibe with condoms
Word Count - 9,668
Notes - this is the final part of this little 'twoshot.' i think this is a nice place to wrap it up and end it and move on to make even more erik content because god knows we are all starved. god bless.
feedback is appreciated :) good or bad
01 / 02 (you're here!)
You were not exaggerating when you mentioned that the statues required cleaning. Specks of dust covered every surface of the different fabrics and metals of the stolen display pieces. You couldn't remember the last time you saw Erik dusting them.
You spent a good two hours meticulously cleaning those statues, keeping yourself occupied. A wave of guilt settled deep within your chest as you reminisced about the events that had transpired before your hasty departure. It had been overwhelming for you - the emotional outpouring and the astonishment of finally seeing Erik's face had struck you hard. Not to mention when you recklessly flung yourself onto him, as if devoid of any semblance of control over your own limbs. You were overcome by a sense of foolishness. In that moment, you believed it was the only choice available to you: to fabricate an excuse and flee from his presence.
Your heart constricted as if it were tightly bound by an unforgiving rope, mercilessly pulling and yanking as you sat consumed by your ruminations. The weight of guilt intensified as you contemplated the depth of Erik's sentiments, the vulnerability he had bared before you. Desperately, you tried your best to suppress these thoughts, reminding yourself that you needed time for introspection, or you’d risk an emotional outburst. Yet deep within, you recognized that you ought to have known better, should have conducted yourself with greater propriety. If only you had summoned the courage to articulate your overwhelming emotions and request a moment of solitude, all of this could have been averted. Regret washed over you as you comprehended that you had needlessly transformed a simple circumstance into a tangled web of emotions and uncertainty.
It was quick approaching five o'clock, the time Erik would usually call out to you and say that he was off to gather things for your afternoon meal as you didn't have anywhere to hygienically store food in the little lagoon. You'd not seen him since the time you'd spent in your bedroom, so you mustered all your hope and prayed that he'd show himself to you so that you could vehemently apologise and beg for his forgiveness.
It took a little while longer than five o'clock, but your lover finally emerged from hiding. Your ears perked up, and your hair stood on end as the sound of footsteps approached from behind. They came to a halt not far from where you crouched, and you held your breath, your hands trembling as you continued to wipe down the statue. You found yourself fixated on a minuscule crevice in the metal, desperately endeavouring not to startle him away. The apprehension within you grew stronger with each passing second.
"It seems you're more infatuated with the statues than you are with me," Erik finally said from behind you.
You huffed in amusement, a smile finally reappearing on your lips. You compelled yourself to stand upright and forsake the act of tidying for the present moment, instead pivoting to confront the man standing in your wake. He stood towering and seemingly unfazed, a faint smile playing upon his lips akin to your own.
"You have my whole heart, don't play dumb," you laughed, dropping the duster to the floor.
Erik approached you, gradually closing the distance between you until his presence was palpable against your cold skin. His hands delicately clasped yours, his thumbs tenderly caressing you. You raised your gaze to meet his intense stare, entranced in the depths of his eyes.
"You have mine too," he said, "Which is why I'll forgive you for that little disappearing act. I wanted to give you some space, but as you know the evening is approaching and we need nourishment, so I'll be-"
"I'm sorry. I didn't consider your feelings before I left, and that was cruel of me. You'd bared yourself to me and I walked away because of my own feelings, and that was selfish," you whispered, your eyes slowly trailing down in shame as your head dropped.
Erik shook his head, a hand leaving yours to cup your chin and lift you back up to his eye level. "You can walk away from me a thousand times over, and as long as you return, I'll never bat an eye."
"Erik, that's not right," you replied, removing his hand from your chin to hold it instead, "You aren't expendable, you don't deserve to be left and returned to as it suits somebody else. If I hurt you, please say so."
"Relax, we were both tense and overwhelmed. It's alri-"
"I'm not just talking about that! How dare you say it's okay for me to leave you and waltz back as I please! You matter more than-"
Unlike before, this time it was Erik who sent his lips crashing down on yours. The intensity and urgency in his actions conveyed his feelings and spoke volumes without a single word being spoke. His lips pressed against yours with such intensity and fervour that you couldn't help but gasp. His hands wandered from yours, up the contours of your arms until they were tightly holding your face in his fiery grip. Your nerves set ablaze and your eyes watered as you quickly flung your hands up to entangle your fingers in his blonde hair, unaware that you were interfering with the knot keeping his mask attached to his head.
Erik was completely captivated, his senses consumed by the intensity of the moment. Unbeknownst to him, the ties securing his mask slowly slipped, gradually unravelling until they hung precariously. The only thing preventing the inevitable was the proximity of your faces, maintaining the fragile balance. Just as you pulled back slightly to catch your breath before resuming the kiss, the mask finally succumbed to gravity and fell, shattering the veil.
It happened in an instant. His cry of horror echoed through the room as he violently tore himself away from you, his hands that were once ardently wrapped around you now shielding himself once more. Panic surged through your veins as the realization of what had just occurred hit you like a dagger to the heart, shattering your world into a million jagged pieces. Without a second thought, you instinctively reached down to retrieve his fallen mask, your trembling fingers fumbling to grasp it as he seemed lost in a whirlwind of confusion and despair, unable to distinguish up from down.
You felt awful.
"Erik, it's okay. I didn't see anything, I have your mask. Take it," you instructed, holding it out while also trying to maintain some distance, trying to avoid frightening him further.
He struggled to regain his composure, his hands trembling uncontrollably and his body wracked with violent shudders. His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of the unfolding situation. It was an absolute nightmare. Twice in a single day, he had been exposed, his mask stripped away and his face studied by a piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate his very soul. There was no hint of malice, no trace of fear in those eyes, and that's what terrified him the most. It was an unfathomable sensation, one that sent waves of sheer terror crashing through his being.
"Erik," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Uncertainty gripped your every word as you grappled with the weight of the situation. A deep sense of guilt washed over you, threatening to consume your thoughts. It was your fault, you knew it. The mask had come loose, revealing a side of Erik that he fiercely guarded. You feared he would believe that you had purposely revealed him, betraying his trust in the most vulnerable of moments. The room fell into a tense silence as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what would happen next.
You observed that he wasn't crying like he was earlier that day, which gave you some relief. However, it was evident that he was visibly distressed. Your heart ached as you observed him and his turmoil. After the intense series of events, you believed that he had experienced enough excitement for one day.
"Erik, I have your mask. Put it back on if you wish and go lay down, I'll deal with dinner arrangements tonight. You've been through so much today."
He frantically shook his head, his face still concealed behind his trembling hands. The urgency in his actions was palpable, as if his very soul depended on it. With bated breath, he inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of courage within him. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he began to peel back his hands, one finger at a time. Your heart raced as the suspense hung heavy in the air.
As the seconds ticked by, the anticipation grew, enveloping the room like a thick fog. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his quickened breaths. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on edge, as if a single wrong move could shatter his entire world. The tension mounted, building up to a high that seemed almost unbearable. You could practically taste the anticipation in the air, a mix of excitement and nervousness. It was as if time itself had slowed down, stretching out the suspense to its breaking point.
The first glimpse of his face emerged from behind his hands as they subsequently dropped to his sides. Your jaw hung heavy, falling open as you drunk in every little bit of his uncovered self. He stood there, unwavering and self assured, a resolute expression pointed at you. Your ears rang and your palms grew sweaty as you came to the realisation that this was the first time you'd seen his face show any emotion that wasn't gut-wrenchingly disconsolate. You were at a loss for words.
"Erik..."
"I know, a handsome gentleman, aren't I?"
You spluttered in shock, the blood rushing up to your cheeks as you stood there observing him. Simply seconds ago he had been exuberating monumental signs of upset, and now he was... cracking jokes? Not that you weren't attracted to him, but he clearly thought he wasn't handsome. Otherwise you two wouldn't be here right now.
"Well, I'll be taking that off your hands," Erik continued, politely taking his most beloved mask back from you. He quickly resecured it to his head. "I must really go and get food now, otherwise we will go hungry tonight. The kitchen closes around 6 o'clock, as you are aware."
You stood there, utterly astonished, as he placed a quick peck on the back of your hand before walking away. You remained rooted to the spot, completely taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Oh, how the tables turn.
You remained in this state of stupor for an embarrassing amount of time. You were off in your own world throughout his disappearance- when he returned, once your evening meal had been prepared and consumed, and even now while you were tending to washing your cutlery and plates. Erik did not directly reference the elephant in the room throughout that entire sequence, and you knew you'd have to be the person to bring it up.
Now, you weren't usually the person to address things that required addressing. As you'd demonstrated countless times, you were a run away and ignore your feelings kind of person, not a stay and confront them head on kind of person. Admittedly, though, it was unfair to expect Erik to do the emotional heavy lifting the majority of the time, so you yielded. Just this once.
"Erik," you called out, busying yourself with scrubbing down the little nooks and cranny's of the fork you were holding. His footsteps didn't take long to hear.
"Yes, dear?"
"I'd like to discuss... what happened, with you?"
"Hm? What did happen?"
"Erik," you whined, squeezing the washcloth you were using extra hard as you rung out the dirty water.
"Sorry, I just couldn't believe what I heard. I thought my ears were deceiving me. You want to be the one to discuss things first? The horror."
"Erik, be serious!" you cried out, throwing the washcloth to the hard stone floor with a resounding 'splat!', "I wanted to just make sure you were okay, you switched so fast earlier I thought I'd gone crazy."
"Perhaps you did."
"Erik!"
"I'm just teasing," he smiled, coming to sit next to you. He rubbed your knee soothingly. "I'm perfect. I'm sorry for my little outburst, was just a shock is all. Nothing serious."
"Are you sure?" you asked, holding the hand that was rubbing your knee.
"More than I've ever been in my life."
Erik caught your eye, sustaining relentless eye contact upon saying those words.
"Well, I'll trust you then," you replied.
"How much do you trust me?" Erik asked.
"Way too much,” you giggled. Your smile soon fell upon seeing Erik’s serious expression.
A silence swept over. Your heart was hammering as if it's goal was to send you into a fatal cardiac arrest. Your throat felt as though it was closing up, the incessant twiddling of your fingers your only relief from the heavy air of suspense that wafted over you both like a weighted blanket. You could practically feel your heart in your throat.
"That's all I needed to know."
The hand that was resting on your knee slowly began to crawl up the length of your leg, fingertips lightly grazing your skin as it travelled up and up. You were practically hyperventilating. The sinful intentions behind his touch were palpable, and yet he seemed unashamed, as if he were waiting for you to make the next move.
Soon he reached the curvature of where your thigh met your hips, giving your leg a firm squeeze before continuing even higher up your body. The air was so thick you felt as though you could slice it with a knife and it'd split in two. His hands were so gentle and careful, as if he were afraid one wrong move would make you bolt.
"How about we get some sleep for the night, my dear? I'm quite tired after today, I feel like an early retreat to bed is in order," Erik stated, giving you a coy smile. Your head felt as though it could explode at any second.
"Oh. Alright, then. I bid you goodnight," you quickly mounted your feet, "I hope you sleep well and I shall see you in the-"
Erik quickly scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight and secure as he made his way in the opposite direction of where your bedroom resided. Your eyes widened.
"Erik? Why are we heading to your room? You said it was a bad idea for us to share," you squeaked.
"That was before you'd seen my face. Now we've gotten over that small hurdle, the matter of bedroom sharing is no longer an issue," he replied. "Now, shall we?"
Without saying a word, Erik carried you closer and closer to his resting place. His steps were steady yet quick, and he maintained a firm grip on you. During the journey, you noticed a subtle change in Erik's demeanour. The fire and intensity that once burned in his eyes had started to fade, as if he were changing his mind about something.
As you stepped into his bedroom, your eyes wandered with fascination. It was your first time setting foot inside Erik's chambers, and you were captivated by the opportunity to glimpse into his life as you observed your surroundings. His bed, adorned with little coffins on the posts and covered with neatly arranged black covers, boasted a dark brown wooden frame. It was nestled in the corner of the room, exuding an air of intimacy and comfort. Adjacent to the bed stood a wardrobe, while a meticulously organized desk, adorned with stacked papers and a fountain pen, occupied the space in front. A small bookcase resided beside the desk, completing the ensemble. Though entirely ordinary, the room exuded an atmosphere of tidiness and orderliness, prompting a smile to spread across your lips.
"If you don't have any objections, I'd like for us to share this room together from now on. Your old room can be altered to be a place for your hobbies, interests, whatever you wish it to be. Whatever makes you happy," he said.
"That would be wonderful," you replied. He gently lowered you until your feet could comfortably touch the floor below. However, he made sure to keep an arm firmly sinched around your waist, even as you stood upright.
He nodded, radiating a clear sense of joy and relief. After a final glance around, you turned to face him and met his gaze immediately.
"Forgive me if this comes across as strange, but I've kept some nightclothes for you in here since we started our relationship. Just in case," Erik gently squeezed your waist before stepping away and opening the drawers at the bottom of his wardrobe. Delicate lace and pristine white fabric peeked out from the open drawers as he continued, "Everything will be brought over from your room tomorrow, tonight just wear these."
He reached into the drawers and carefully retrieved the aforementioned night clothes, placing them on the bed beside him. With deliberate movements, he pulled open the doors of the storage unit and extracted a long night shirt. Excusing himself, he quietly stepped away to find a private space to change. As he left, you seized the opportunity that presented itself. Swiftly and silently, you exchanged your blouse and long skirt for the nightgown he had prepared for you.
He returned not long after you'd finished closing your top button, door squeaking as he slowly shut it behind him. He took a deep breath before raising his hands to untie the knot behind his head, allowing the mask to slip off. Seeing you have no reaction, he reached out, waiting for you to place your hand in his before guiding you to the side of the bed. He wrapped you in his arms before lifting you once more, pressing a quick kiss against your forehead before lowering you onto the mattress below. You sunk into the bed as if you were laying on clouds.
He busied himself with removing the blankets from beneath you, bringing them up and over to envelope your frame. He ensured that every inch of your skin was covered and unexposed to the chilly lagoon air. Reaching up, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly trailing his fingers down until he stopped at your neck. He gave you another quick kiss before retreating.
He blew out out the candle on his desk before he carefully crawled up onto the bed. He tucked himself away into the corner while you laid on the outside. His arm slithered underneath your neck, pulling you into him with his other. You rested your head on his chest as you turned, nuzzling into him as if he were a giant teddy bear. You thought his heart were about to leap from his chest from the rate you could hear it hammering.
"Goodnight," you said.
"Goodnight."
Many evenings were spent in such a manner. Before long, your former room was emptied and filled with new, exciting things. It had transformed into a new sanctuary, replacing your secluded spot in the verdant woods outside. Now, you possessed a haven to house your cherished items; somewhere to store your books, a cozy nook where you could recline and immerse yourself in literature for hours, and a table for you to engage in the art of crochet, a repository for yarn, and a showcase for your completed projects. It has everything you wanted, precisely as he promised.
Your sentiments for Erik were blossoming with each passing day. His comforting caress, his unwavering commitment to your happiness, his tender manner of adoration - they propelled your emotions beyond what you had deemed imaginable. As a child, you could not have fathomed that dwelling in a modest subterranean abode would be where you dreamed to be in life. Yet, now that you were settled in this lagoon, the thought of never encountering him seemed unfathomable. He personified a sense of belonging, amalgamating all that was exquisite and comforting. He was your haven, the epitome of beauty and security.
But as Erik's love and devotion enshrouded you, there existed an alluring charm concealed beneath the surface. It beckoned you irresistibly, drawing you closer, its presence palpable. You could discern its essence in his tantalizing touch, his possessive grasp, as he ensnared you with an insatiable hunger. It was as if he held you under a bewitching spell, your body a mere marionette swaying to his carnal desires. The longing in his eyes spoke of an urge that transcended innocence, a primal yearning that flouted the conventions of morality. And you, consumed by the same passionate flame, yearned for him with equal fervour, unbound by societal expectations or righteous inhibitions.
So why was he resisting?
He was your everything, your entire world consumed by his presence. You did believe yourself to be the keeper of his heart, and he, in turn, was the keeper of yours. No other soul could ever compare to the ardour you held for him. He was the very essence of your existence, the driving force that propelled you through each passing day. It was not about what he did for you or what he provided; it was simply him—the embodiment of all that you craved. You were willing to endure the depths of hell itself just to remain at his side. There were no limits to what you were willing to bestow upon him, not even your own purity.
It was truly mortifying how excessively you fixated on this minuscule detail. From the moment you had first shared a bed, weeks or even months had elapsed. The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable sexual tension and an insatiable yearning that permeated every interaction, overwhelming you to the point of metaphorical asphyxiation. If only he did not desire it, then you would accept it and never mention the subject again or indulge in surreptitious tantalizing touches. But it was evident that he did indeed want it. His body language screamed what his own lips dared not speak.
So tonight, you had a plan. Either he would relinquish his defences and claim you, as you could discern the fervent desire in his eyes, or he would quash all notions and prospects of intimacy for the indeterminate future. A straightforward affirmation or denial was all you sought, to then bring an end to your torturous overthinking.
To start your plan, you deliberately selected sleepwear that exuded desire, surpassing the usual modesty of your night clothes. It was exquisitely crafted from elegant and feather-light fabric, delicately caressing your skin in a manner that mirrored your desires for your beloved's touch. Its slender straps gracefully extended from the bodice, adorned with sheer breast cups embellished with intricate floral lace. Just below your bosom, a dainty bow served as a liaison between the upper portion of the gown and the gracefully flowing, undecorated skirt. While not lingerie per se, you believed it would at least catch his eye. Hopefully.
As per his usual routine, he entered the room once he had finished dressing for the evening. Lately, he had taken to leaving his mask aside unless he had to venture into the opera house or he was planning to receive a visit from Gerard. Hence, you had the opportunity to behold his expression in its entirety when his gaze fell upon you. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape, unabashedly scanning your figure as you discreetly feigned obliviousness to his direct scrutiny. In that moment, you felt acutely aware of your own immodesty, your cheeks aflame with a profound sense of embarrassment.
"I haven't seen that nightdress before," he commented, finally picking up his slack jaw. He moved closer to you, hands coming to rest on your hips as he lips edged near to your ear.
"It was at the back of my closet, I hadn't noticed it until today," you lied, knowing that you'd been very aware of it, and just had no reason to wear it. Until now.
"You look heavenly," he whispered into your ear, sending shivers ricocheting down your spine. His presence was dizzying.
You hadn't thoroughly pondered the plan it seemed. You had hoped that the execution would require minimal effort on your part, yet you had neglected to determine your response for this inevitable situation. Shaking your head, you realized the need to gather your wits. Retreat was not an option now that you had made a commitment.
"Do I?" you asked, hesitantly placing your hands upon his. You needed to act like you knew what you were doing. "You should feel the fabric, it's heavenly to touch as well."
You sensually and enticingly glided both of your hands up your torso, relishing every moment as they caressed the curve of your waist, skilfully manoeuvring them to rest seductively beneath the swell of your bosom. A startled gasp escaped his lips, his breath catching as he realized the audaciousness of your gesture. Your confidence surged with every passing second.
"Y-yes, it's quite nice. I see what you mean," he tried to remove his hands, but you clutched him tighter in response. He clearly didn't really want to remove his hands either, because he didn't put up more resistance than that.
"You touching me is quite nice, too. Although I'd prefer your hands higher."
Each breath that escaped his lips resonated loudly in your ear, his yearning becoming increasingly apparent as it ardently pressed against your backside. Instinctively, you drew your body nearer to his, eliciting a deep groan from behind.
"Or lower. I'm not fussy."
Erik felt as if he were on the verge of bursting. Every ounce of blood in his body was frenziedly surging downward, his throat parched as sweat dripped down his skin. His fingers yearned to comply with your request, but his mind vehemently protested, urging him to resist and refrain from succumbing to such feeble-mindedness. He couldn’t treat you like an object, only something he used to fulfil his devilish wants.
"My dear, I know you may not intend to have this affect on me, but I am a man and... your words stir things in me. Please allow me to remove my hands so we can retire for the night."
"What if that is my intention?" you teased.
Erik hesitated. Did you truly wish for him to treat you in such a manner? Perhaps you did not fully grasp the implications of your actions. For an unwed woman to partake in the act of intimacy was deemed the utmost disgrace, an indelible blemish that would tarnish her reputation indefinitely. Although Erik knew that their secret would remain hidden, he did not wish to lead you astray into the depths of sin. While he may not believe in a higher power, he understood that most individuals clung to faith, and you were no exception.
"I couldn't do that to you," he replied, "You are my lover, not something for me to vent my unholy desires upon. I hold too much respect for you to allow that to happen."
You sighed. "Is that why you kept running away? Because you do not wish me to be a damned woman?"
"Yes. It is already too late for me, I have done too much wrong and I have hurt too many. But you can be saved."
Carefully considering his words, you shrugged, "I can always repent."
Erik gawked at your words, eyebrows furrowing as he processed what you'd uttered. Did you not understand the severity of the situation? Were you not thinking straight at the moment? Why were-
"I may believe in God, but I also believe you aren't going to heaven. So why would I want to go there either?" you explained, tightening your grip on his hands. "If I end up changing my mind, and I regret my decisions, I shall repent and hopefully God will forgive me. But if I marry the man I had premarital sex with, is it really so bad?"
Erik found himself descending into a state of turmoil. He grew exasperated, unable to comprehend why you could not understand that he was doing this for you. He yearned for you to grasp his intentions, to comprehend that his actions were driven by a desire to shield you from sorrow and remorse. Simultaneously, a sense of bewilderment overcame him. As you expanded upon your reasoning, the fortress around his emotions began to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that he had long concealed. With each passing word, he felt his defences wane, his carnal desires surging forth, beckoning him to abandon propriety and surrender to the depths of his impure thoughts. The allure of gratification grew stronger, compelling him to yearn for the freedom to explore the depths of his desires, to caress you with an intensity that bordered on ravishment, and to claim you as his own.
"So, Erik," you spoke, "Will you take me right here and right now, or will we forget this ever happened and go to bed, as if nothing ever happened?"
Erik let out a strained sigh, feeling his composure shatter like delicate porcelain. He offered no words in return, only a meek inclination of his head, which you could discern from the proximity between you. Your heart soared with a mixture of elation and trepidation.
You spun around and launched yourself at him with an enthusiasm you never knew you possessed. Every fantasy, desire, urge, and longing surged to the surface, your lips conveying everything you had kept locked away until this moment. Oxygen ceased to matter, the world dissolving into nothingness as you clung to him with every ounce of desperation. The bed seemed impossibly distant.
With a sense of urgency, you propelled yourself forward, gently but firmly directing Erik until his knees collided with the plush mattress. Wasting no time, you pressed your delicate hands against his chest and gracefully pushed him back, momentarily breaking the connection of your lips as he tumbled onto the bed beneath. He hastily settled into a proper position, while you, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, gracefully climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his form.
Too much time had been squandered to concern yourself with trivial matters like being gentle and slow, you needed him now and you had no intention of lingering. You centre settled upon his pelvis, sensing the warmth of his length beneath his night shirt. Your hips circled around the bulge poking through the fabric, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as you took everything he was willing to give you. He definitely did not object.
Your kisses grew increasingly fervent and frenzied as time wore on, losing yourself in the sensation of his proximity and knowing that by the morning, your connection would have deepened and exceeded all of your expectations. Reflecting upon yourself a month prior, when Erik finally granted you the privilege of seeing him whole- witnessing the profound transformation that had taken place between the two of you since then was nothing short of dizzying.
The straps of your nightgown were slowly beginning to falter off of your shoulders, loosely hanging as if begging him to finish the job and strip you entirely. You’d imagined countless nights of lying beneath him, skin bare and free for him to explore and observe as you basked in the glory of his gaze. So with that thought, you took the hands that were currently clinging onto your hips for dear life and placed them on your shoulders, saying exactly what you wanted without uttering a word.
Erik appeared to understand your desires, for with trembling hands and lips that faltered, he withdrew himself to assess the situation. He gazed up at you, seeking your approval with a nervous and hesitant air, fearful of making a wrong move that would propel you away from him and back to square one. However, your reassuring nod and an intensified grinding of your hips against his spurred him into action more swiftly than a racehorse urged on by the whip. He wasted no time in discarding the delicate straps that confined your form, liberating your body from his prying gaze.
As your nightgown fell to bunch at your legs, Erik felt as though his lungs almost gave out. Your body was unlike anything he’d ever seen in the paintings he collected, every mark and curve of your skin displaying a radiance he didn’t realise was possible. With a thrust of his hips, he gestured for you to move back so he could continue diligently removing the last of your clothing.
The moment your last inch of skin emerged from the confines of the fabric, Erik gently nudged you to recline. You should have felt more shy or apprehensive about being bare and vulnerable beneath him, yet the only sensation that coursed through you was the fire that blazed within your core. You let out a soft whine about no longer being able to remain on top of him, but your grievances were swiftly silenced as his hands swept you up, swiftly manoeuvring you beneath him.
“Wait, can I see you too?” You asked, hurriedly sitting up before he had the chance to properly position himself above you. He seemed taken aback by your eagerness.
“Are you sure? I’m nothing special to look at, don’t feel-“
“Take your shirt off!” You demanded.
Erik seemed even more speechless than you thought possible. His eyes were blown wide in astonishment as if you had begun conversing in a long-forgotten, extinct tongue. While somewhat entertained by his disoriented state, you delicately extended your hand and commenced the task of unfastening the buttons of his nightshirt with the utmost precision and unwavering determination, as if you’d done this many times before. Even if that couldn’t be less inaccurate.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he reminded you, “It’s okay to go slow.”
Slow was a word that had no place in your dictionary at this present moment. However, you eased your grasp and lessened the ferocity of your actions, aiming to appear slightly less forceful in your demeanour.
After the last button popped free, you hurriedly removed the garment from him. Discarding it to the side, you reclined slowly, unable to tear your gaze away. His figure exuberated a powerful presence, every inch meticulously sculpted as if by the hand of a master artisan. Though littered with small scars and scratches, the striking juxtaposition between his celestial physique and his disfigured visage was utterly captivating, leaving you utterly intrigued.
He could feel your eyes penetrating him, and he resisted every urge screaming at him to shrink away. He was done hiding from you, he wanted to feel the warmth of you enveloping him, holding him, loving him until the day it was no longer possible. He wanted to give you all of him and never let go. He was done with thinking he didn’t deserve to be loved wholly, because you were right here offering everything he never believed he could possess. You had defied all of his meagre expectations and made him a new man.
You were so pliant and pure beneath him, the rise and fall of your chest and the slight nibble on your bottom lip betraying the hidden worry within. He wasted no time in leaning forward above you, his lips desperate as they sought to kiss away every fear and trace of hesitation you harboured. He bestowed a trail of delicate kisses down your forehead, across your cheeks, and along the graceful curve of your neck. His fervent kisses then graced your shoulders, tracing a path around your collarbones, each touch so delicate and reverent, until finally reaching the soft expanse of your chest.
His lips hovered, waiting for the right moment to strike and send you into a frenzy of pleasure and bliss. He bestowed tender kisses upon the delicate curvature of your breasts, attending closely to the sounds that escaped your parted lips. He observed the signals your body conveyed, observing the hastened rhythm of your breath and the involuntary movement of your legs, the way you were drawing them closer to create friction where you craved it. His own longing became unmistakable, his cock standing tall and achingly rigid, tantalizingly grazing against your abdomen.
His mouth was progressively nearing your nipples, delicately encircling your areola and occasionally darting out his tongue to deliver a teasing lick. Despite his inexperience, he performed with an air of seasoned confidence, as though he had engaged in such intimate encounters countless times before. He knew exactly where to lick, kiss and touch to elicit the most erotic responses from you. His lips slowly closed around your nipple, testing the waters with light sucking and flicks of his tongue before experimentally grazing it with his teeth, his cock turning red and angry from how much blood was coursing through his veins.
You cried out at the peculiar sensation, quickly calling out for him to not be too rough with his teeth. He nodded against you, his tussled hair tickling your skin as he consumed himself with teasing and playing with your breasts. It felt so scandalous and immoral the way he played with you, the way his hands caressed and pressed against you as he familiarized himself with the curves of your body.
As his fervor increased, your sensitive buds responded with heightened sensitivity. The intense and eager caresses caused your nipples to swell, becoming puffy and tender. The sensation was so overwhelming that tears threatened to well up in your eyes, the stimulation evoking a sharp, piercing ache. Eventually, you found yourself asking him to stop, and he promptly complied upon hearing you.
"Are you alright?" He was panting, saliva coating the surroundings of his mouth.
You nearly laughed, but could only manage a whimsical giggle. The sight of him so concerned yet utterly spent at the same time stirred emotions within you that you dared not confess. Your essence overflowed, moistening your inner thighs as it trickled out like a stream. The influence your lover had on you was profound, surpassing anything you had ever imagined. Even the most daring of literature that you’d read did not evoke such a powerful surge of arousal and longing within you.
"I'm perfect," you smiled, "but my breasts were beginning to hurt, and the feeling was becoming much too overwhelming. Besides, I'd like to return the favour."
You sprung up, lifting your back off the bed before he even had time to brainstorm his response. You jumped at him, twisting both of you until he was back beneath you. You gave him a sloppy kiss before pulling away, venturing down until you reached his shaft. It was longer than you expected. Your old, more outspoken friends who boasted of their premarital escapades always mentioned men's genitalia to be around four or five inches, but Erik's seemed more like six or seven. His girth seemed to align well with their descriptions, so you decided he must just be a bit more gifted in the length department. You gulped.
"What are you doing? Please, just focus on yourself. I need nothing in return."
You shook your head teasingly, rolling your eyes with a small smirk on your face. The vivid images that had danced in your mind about how on earth that was supposed to fit inside you were quickly dismissed. You gathered all the saliva you could muster in your mouth, spitting it onto your hand. You’d read about that in a book once.
Erik looked utterly astounded, captivated by the strings of saliva that cascaded from your lips. He was about to inquire about your intentions and where the destination of that saliva globule was going to be, but his curiosity was quickly satisfied when your delicate fingers enfolded around his manhood and you tentatively began stroking him up and down. Your movements lacked the refined cadence of experienced hands, occasionally faltering in rhythm and fluctuating in pressure. Yet through perseverance, you eventually established a steady and pleasurable pace, accompanied by a grip that elicited delightful sensations and heightened pleasure.
Sighs of ecstasy escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he became enveloped in the sensation of your caress. He felt a stirring deep within his abdomen, a tension coiling tighter and tighter until it would inevitably release. His skin glowed with perspiration as he tilted his head back, his moans growing louder and louder, harmonizing with the sound of your saliva squelching as your hand traversed his shaft.
He was no stranger to desire and impure thoughts, long before he had met you he still yearned and had fantasies of what it would feel like to touch and be touched by another. However, he refrained from indulging in such pleasures, deeming it a frivolous waste of his time. Little did he know that the allure and intensity of self-pleasure had eluded him. Oh, how he wished he had been more enlightened back then.
Something was building inside him. Unaware, you continued your steady pace, looking into his eyes with a sweet smile. He felt something akin to a rubber band stretching in his abdomen, reaching its snapping point, pulling further apart. Instinctively, his hand reached up to grab your free hand, squeezing with a force that you knew would cause pain the next day.
Your arm was beginning to seize up, your muscles cramping worse than you’d ever experienced before. His hand practically crushing yours didn’t help, and eventually, you had to relent and withdraw. A frustrated grunt escaped his throat, his eyes clenching shut as his hips bucked. The snapping sensation in his abdomen gradually subsided, the build-up disappearing as if it were never there to begin with.
"That was... different," he heaved.
"Good different?" You tentatively asked.
"Good different," he confirmed.
A profound stillness enveloped both of you as Erik struggled to regain his composure, his erection throbbing with a vengeance. He clenched his jaw, the distressing ache seeping into his bones, sending tingles down his limbs and leaving his mind in a dizzying haze. The rush of blood roared in his ears as he lay there, gradually returning to the realm of consciousness.
You were filled with trepidation. Had you committed a grievous error? Why did he seem so discomposed? His eyes were shut, and his chest rose and fell with alarming rapidity. He appeared to be in a state of distress. The books you read had failed to prepare you for such a sight!
"Are you alright, love?" You fussed, cupping his cheeks in your hands in concern, "Do you need anything? Water? To stop?"
"No, no, no," he instantly denied, waving his hand. His arm came to drop over his eyes. "I'm just... a little overwhelmed, I suppose."
Hearing that he wasn't about to enter sudden cardiac arrest, you threw your leg over his stomach. Your warmth pressed deliciously against his well-toned abdominal muscles, sending electrifying sensations up your bones. He appeared more at ease now, his hand that wasn't thrown across his face reaching up to caress the skin of your thigh with his fingertips. Quivers reverberated through your body, as if a gentle breeze had swept through the room, carrying with it a delightful shiver of pleasure.
You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his with utmost delicacy. His other hand joined in, but instead of gently caressing your thighs, he grasped your flesh firmly, guiding your hips in a swaying motion. Your mind turned to mush, the undulating movement causing your senses to ignite. Sparks flickered between your bodies, every touch sending pleasurable jolts through your form as he manipulated you to his desires.
Every pitiful moan and whimper was swallowed by his intoxicating mouth, every breath shared intermingling into one. He kept you restrained at a steady pace, even as you attempted to push against it and yearned for a more vigorous rhythm. One amused glance sent a rush of crimson to your cheeks, a blush of embarrassment that betrayed you.
"Can I put it in?" You whispered. You wanted to get your upper hand back and fast.
He paused for a moment, his pupils dilating and a gasp escaping his lips as he absorbed your words. His eyes turned upwards towards yours, staring deep into your soul as if attempting to decipher your thoughts. His unyielding gaze was slightly intimidating, and you found yourself questioning if you had spoken inappropriately.
"If you wish," he replied.
Sucking in your lower lip, you cautiously descended. The sensation of his tip brushing against you made you unconsciously bite down, feeling the connection of your most intimate parts. He elevated himself to a seated position, pressing his arousal even closer to your entrance. The wetness that coated his tip, combined with your own slickness, allowed for ample lubrication as it trickled down.
He gave you one final questioning look, to which you responded with a confident nod. He returned the gesture in understanding. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly lowered yourself until the tip naturally found its way to your opening, gently teasing and exploring. You bit down on your lip so hard that you could taste blood, but you pressed on. His hand reached down to assist in guiding himself inside you, and both of you gasped as his bulbous tip slipped past your entrance.
The sensation was indescribable, pleasure and discomfort waging a battle as your body came to a halt. Erik pressed tender kisses along your shoulder, his hand resting on your back to ease your tension. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the feeling of your purity being tested by his manhood was intense and sent a fiery heat rushing through your core. Your face twisted as you summoned the strength to sink further, enduring the initial sting as best you could.
"We can stop at any time, just say the word," Erik gently reminded you, nestling his head against you as he patiently waited for you to adjust. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for indulging in such pleasure while you were clearly in pain. He made a concentrated effort to conceal his contorted expressions and stifle his moans and grunts.
Finally, you managed to lower yourself fully into his lap. His cock was nestled deep within your intimate depths. You took deep breaths, determined to overcome the discomfort and replace it with the exhilaration you knew could await. It felt as if you were being impaled, your arms clinging to him with increasing intensity as you willed yourself to relax and surrender to the sensations that enveloped you.
You were practically restraining him, keeping him trapped inside of you to the extent that he felt unable to move even if he desired to. The tightness was approaching discomfort, his soothing and calming touches attempting to coax you into relaxing your muscles and embracing the sensation.
After a few moments of acclimation and striving to ease your muscles, you soon sensed the inferno below gradually transform into a thrilling excitement. A surge of adrenaline coursed through you as you comprehended your current location and the nature of your actions.
Testing out the waters, you gingerly lifted your hips, wincing at the sensation of your walls contracting as you raised yourself further off of him. His swollen tip caught on your entrance, prompting you to cease ascending. Erik released his grip around you, reclining back on his hands to observe the spectacle.
The eye contact was overwhelming. He dared not divert his gaze from you for a single moment, your partially closed eyes battling to remain open as you lowered yourself back down. A strangled cry threatened to escape your lips as the exquisite stretch overwhelmed your senses, your mind empty and your vision wavering. His tip was nearly grazing your cervix. Every fibre of your being was consumed by the sensation, your mind black and vision wavering.
You pushed yourself up and down a few more times, willing yourself to adjust and adapt. Gradually, you found your rhythm, moving with grace as your walls glided along his cock. The sound of your flesh meeting echoed softly in the air as you fervently rode him. He was buried deep within you, overwhelming your senses and leaving you dizzy with desire. Erik wasn’t any better off.
"Oh my god," you whined, fucking yourself on him as if you had never been more desperate for anything in your life. "I've been dreaming of this for so long."
"Me too," Erik grunted.
Your breasts undulated in perfect harmony with your motions, practically demanding Erik to divert his gaze towards them. In any other circumstance, you would have teasingly chastised him for his audacity, yet a deeper blush coloured your cheeks as you beheld him intently studying your form. He reclined further upon the bed, his weight supported by his elbows, his eyes filled with a fervent longing.
Your hands instantly found purchase on his chest, using him as leverage to move faster and rougher on top of him. He was engrossed in the way your body moved and responded to him, his hoarse moans only serving to make you even more hot and bothered. Your faltering stamina almost made you want to burst into tears, because the last thing you wanted to do was stop.
Erik soon caught on to your stuttering motions, noticing the way your hair stuck to your forehead from the copious amount of sweat.
"I love you, I love you so much," you cried, sniffling from the overload of emotions that were bubbling to the surface. The love, the infatuation, the relief, the pleasure, the euphoria- everything was rising inside of you abruptly and without warning.
"I love you too," he moaned, relinquishing his elbows to rest upon the bed. He grabbed your hips, bringing you to a pause. You sobbed. "Are you getting tired?"
"No, I'm perfectly fine," you protested, attempting to resist his hold in order to resume your agitated movements. He would've rolled his eyes at your stubbornness if he wasn't distracted by the feeling of your hole swallowing his cock.
He forcefully pulled you down, pressing your body against his chest as he exerted his dominance. With a swift motion, he flipped you over, positioning himself on top. In the process, he momentarily withdrew from your cunt, but without hesitation, he re-entered your inviting warmth. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and your arms enveloped him as you surrendered to him, reclining in submission.
Your mouth formed a perfect 'o' as you endured his pounding, setting a fervent and punishing cadence as he plunged inside of you with all the strength he could summon. Your world spun, your lungs yearning for air as you let out moans and cries with every motion he executed.
His whispered curses and sounds of pleasure were hot against your ear, every slide in and out enhanced by how close he was pressed against you. It was intoxicating, his embrace crushing you so tight that you couldn't distinguish where your body met the mattress and where his body met yours. Everything dissolved into one.
"Does this feel good?" Erik questioned, pace merciless as he pulled away to look at you directly.
"Yes! Yes it does!" You wailed.
"Who's making you feel good?" He growled.
"You! You!"
"What's my name?"
"Erik! Oh!"
"That's right," He let out a deep and guttural groan, diverting his gaze from you for a fleeting moment. With a firm grip on your thighs, he effortlessly folded you, positioning your knees so close to your ears that it bordered on the extreme. "Who do you belong to?" he gruffly inquired, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.
"Ah! You, Erik! You!"
"You," thrust, "belong," thrust, "to," thrust, "me."
Ecstasy surged through your being, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelmed your senses. Your every nerve tingled and quivered, your body contorting and your eyes fluttering in pure pleasure. Your walls fluttered around him as you uttered his name in breathless gasps, your voice choked with desire. The tightening in your core reached a crescendo before finally giving way to an intense release.
Erik was going crazy. The feeling of you contracting and spasming around him made his body tremor as his desperate pace transitioned into aimless jerking. His resolve came undone as white ribbons shot out of him, painting your walls white. Your cunt was practically milking him.
"My god," Erik sighed, huffing as he recovered from the aftershocks of his climax.
You were in no better a state. Tears streaked down your face, and sweat had practically glued your bodies together. Erik withdrew himself from you, guiding your limp legs back onto the bed. He laid beside you, his form exhausted and his arousal gradually subsiding, as you both took a moment to regain composure.
You swallowed, surprised at how parched your throat was. "Was it good?... Was I good?"
"Better than I ever imagined," he affirmed.
It didn't take long for Erik to rise, hastily donning his nightshirt before exiting the chamber and venturing into the lagoon. In a swift manner, he reappeared, clutching a moist towel in his grasp. With delicate precision, he gently glided it over your sensitive areas, meticulously cleansing the semen that had spilled out of you, ensuring that no traces of your sin were left behind.
A damp patch had formed beneath you, causing the fabric to become stained and the bed linens quite uncomfortable to rest upon. Erik gently lifted you and settled you onto the chair positioned in front of his desk, attending to the task of replacing the soiled bedsheets so that you would not have to sleep upon the concoction of your arousal and his release.
"I'll prepare baths for us tomorrow. For now, I think it's best for you to get some sleep," Erik tapped your cheek, laughing as your droopy eyelids perked up at his touch.
You grumbled at him, your dishevelled hair and pouting lips evoking a sense of charm that made his heart soar. He scooped you up once more, cradling you in his arms with care as he escorted you back to your shared bed. With haste, you scurried beneath the fresh linen, seeking solace and warmth within the confines of the quilt that shielded your immodest frame from the chill that seemed to permeate the air. Erik casually discarded the used towel into a corner alongside the dirtied sheets, joining you on the bed and tucking himself away behind you with his back to the wall.
He drew you closer, his arm slipping beneath your neck as he nestled you against his side. You gazed up at him, a smile gracing your lips, but inside, a vexed frustration swelled as you silently cursed his attire. Why must he remain clothed while you, in this moment, were so undressed?
"If I'm naked, then you're naked," you playfully stated.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, strip right now."
He complied silently with your request, and your internal vexation turned to jubilation as his flesh made contact with yours. You resumed your former position, nestling yourself once again into his embrace as your wearied eyes finally succumbed to the burden of your fatigue.
Then it was ruined.
"Will you marry me?" Erik implored, his voice filled with anticipation and a touch of desperation. As your disapproving gaze met his, he hastily continued, "We've already consummated our love. What's the harm? We agreed on this months ago."
Snickering under your breath, you retorted, "Get me a ring first, then I'll consider."
The comforting hum of Erik's complaints and attempts at convincing you to please please marry him carried you softly and sweetly into a deep sleep.
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Angel Eyes. Ryomen Sukuna
Sukuna x afab!reader
You're invited to a mysterious masquerade party, and you had no idea it would turn out the way it did with the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on.
Warnings — female bodied reader, DARK CONTENT, murder, you get drugged, fingering, choking, Dom!Sukuna, unprotected sex, rough sex, vaginal sex, sub!reader, kidnapping, you get murdered in this fic, physical abuse, name calling (really bad), Sukuna is very sadistic. This whole fic is pretty messed up.
Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated
There was just something about him…
Maybe it was his charming voice, or his cocky attitude, or the way he looked at you from across the room. Or maybe it was the way he put his arm around your neck, or the way his breath tickled the skin of your neck. Or it was his eyes.
Either way, he was poisonous.
You slipped on a short dress that elegantly sat around your frame, and you applied a sexy shade of red lipstick onto your plush lips, and afterwards came the mask that covered your eyes. Eyeing yourself in the mirror, you looked breathtaking, thus, you left your place, confidently walking to the venue of the masquerade party that you were invited to.
The place was elegant too. You entered the building and went through the curtains, joining the party. It was chaotic too. There were lots of weird people around, but who were you to judge? Your eyes scanned all over the place, and that's when you saw him.
A tall man, wearing a jet black suit and a white mask. His hair was pink, neatly done, and his eyes… oh boy, his eyes. He looked around the room, and made eye contact with you, and the grin on his handsome, yet anonymous face widened, so did yours as you watched him fix his bowtie and saunter your way.
"A dance, m'lady?" His voice was deep, and absurdly handsome, he bowed before you and held his hand out, like a true gentleman. Who were you to deny? "Of course." You smiled down at the bowing man as you took his hand, and watched him once again stand tall and tower over you with a devious grin on his face.
The chatter around the two of you, and the glances you got from everyone practically didn't exist as you and the man elegantly danced around the room to the low music, "May I know your name?" You asked.
The man chuckled a bit, "It's a masquerade party for a reason, I can't tell you my name, can I?"
You nodded, he had a point, "You're right." You muttered out.
He twirled you around, and held against his body as he stood behind you. His arm made its way around your neck, but he didn't choke you. It was like you were completely hypnotized by his charm, and his low voice sent shivers down your spine as he whispered into your ear, "I know… I always am."
It was like your surroundings were a blur, you didn't even notice the blood everyone around you coughed up, and how they suddenly started to drop dead. None of that mattered to you, all you cared for was the intoxicating man that held you close to him. Not even the sting of a needle piercing your neck phased you.
Not even when you went limp in his arms and passed out.
There was no need to wince as your eyes opened, the dark room at least did you that favor. Your back touched the soft fabric of a bed, and all you were wearing was the black lingerie you had on under your part outfit. Not that you cared. And above you, hovered a pink haired man who planted kisses all over your sweet neck, that was until he felt you stirring, and that's when he broke away from your neck.
He grinned deviously at you.
His mask was off now, but you could recognize those eyes anywhere, and his signature grin too. Now with his mask off, he was ten times more handsome than he was before, especially when he was devoid of clothes and hovered over you.
"You're awake." He muttered out.
His mouth attached itself to your sweet neck once more, and you couldn't do anything but embrace his sinful touch, each sweet kiss, and every time he traced your elegant curves with his big hands, it sent shivers down your spine.
"I want you." You didn't only want him, you needed to feel him.
"I know." He chuckled into your ear, whilst his hand cupped and groped your breast over your bra. He was absolutely mesmerized by your body and he wanted to feel more, so much more.
"Sukuna, Ryomen Sukuna, by the way." He whispered again.
He wanted to hear you cry out his name in pure pleasure.
Or pain.
His hands so painfully slowly made their way to the waistline of your panties, where his fingers would finally hook into them and so slowly start to pull them down the length of your legs. He wanted to take his time with you, he wanted to see how far he could go until you broke, and begged him.
He finally disposed of the clothing in the corner of the room, and his hand ran up and down your inner thigh. His sinful mouth pressed trails of kiss down to your covered chest, he wasn't planning on taking your bra off. But it wasn't like you cared. You were dripping wet for him and all you wanted was for him to touch you.
"Sukuna please." You whined out.
Normally, the man would demand his victims for more detail, but for once he felt merciful. There was some time to make you beg.
"Such a good doll for me." He muttered out as his lips connected with your own in a kiss filled with nothing with lust. His fingers finally began to gently move along your folds, and finally stopped by your wet entrance, pushing two of his long fingers inside of your tight hole.
He let out a feral growl as he pulled back from the kiss, his fingers began curling inside of you, hitting that special little spot inside of you, and abusing the power it had over your body.
"F-fuck… yes. Just like that." You whined and panted as his fingers kept on pumping in and out of you. He was so sinfully good and you couldn't get enough of him. Not at all.
"That's it… keep on making those sweet noises, doll." He whispered to you again.
His fingers would speed up slightly, and reach deeper. He was rock hard already, and he also needed some relief soon. Because damn, if you felt so good around his fingers, he could only imagine how you felt around his cock, which was more than enough to make him pull his fingers out of you and sit up, unbuckling his pants.
"I need to feel you." He growled.
He finally undid his pants and pulled it down just enough to free his heavy and thick cock. Some precum was already leaking from his red tip.
Sukuna moved both your legs over his shoulders, thereafter he let his tip drag along your folds for a while. But not even he could handle it anymore, therefore he pushed his thick tip past your wet entrance, his groans would fill the room and mix with your whines and moans as he finally filled your pretty cunt up with his cock.
"As shit, you feel so good." He muttered out, he slowly began rutting his hips against yours, pulling the most delicious moans out of you. You were making it hard for him to hold back and simply pound into you.
"Best pussy I've ever had." Sukuna growled.
The feral glow in his eyes could show you how he was so close to snapping, and he did. He snapped, and completely gave up on keeping himself under control, therefore he started to mercilessly rail and abuse your pussy with his girth, letting out feral growls and grunts.
It felt like Sukuna was knocking the air out of you with each thrust, it was so good your eyes would fill with tears, "F-fuck! S-sukuna…" You could barely find any words to say, all you could mutter was profanity and cries of his name as you slowly felt your high approach.
Sukuna could tell you were close by the way your walls would flutter around him in the most delicious way, and even he was having to hold back and not cum inside of your sweet cunt.
"Cum for me." He ordered.
You could tell by the way he said it, it was a demand and who were you to disobey? You couldn't hold back any longer, thus, you finally let go of the knot in your stomach, and your orgasm washed over you just as loud cries of his name fell from your lips, while tears spilled from the pleasure.
God, Sukuna was getting closer and closer, your reactions, those tears, and the way you clenched so tightly around him finally triggered his own release, and finally his hips would stutter, and come to a halt. His cock was buried deep inside of you as he finally spilled his hot seed inside of your pretty pussy with a low growl.
He panted, "Fuck, you felt so good.."
After another few seconds of feeling your tight warmth, he finally pulled out and collapsed next to you to catch his breath. You were also completely breathless and fucked out.
It continued for a while. Sukuna and yourself were like… friends with benefits. No, you were more line his little slave, his cum dump for whenever he needed some release. He knew you were too addicted to him to ever deny. So many nights would end with him leaving you on your bed, completely fucked out, or even unconscious from how he mercilessly railed you. He didn't really care, you were nothing to him but his little cum dump. But he would get tired of you eventually, it wasn't uncommon for him to have fun with a one woman for a while, and finally toss her out and find a new plaything.
Sukuna would do exactly what he did in the very beginning, and capture you, and once again, you found yourself in a dark room, only this time, you were tied to a chair, and the man you were so addicted to, stood across the room and eyed you like prey. It was suddenly like you realized what a fool you were, and that he was using you all along.
"Bastard, let me go!" You hissed at him, and your hands were struggling to loosen from the ropes to no avail. The man let out a deep, sinister laughter as he walked up to you, raising his hand as he backhanded you across your beautiful face. You winced at the burning sensation on your cheek. His eyes were filled with all the malice in the world and he growled, "Did I give you permission to talk?"
"You were as foolish as every other bitch I've fucked." He hissed at you, once again, he hit you, once again, it stung, but you only glared at him. It's not like tears were gonna help you now.
You kept silent.
"But at least, now I get to rid the world of your existence." He grinned deviously again, his hand would lift again, but this time it passed by your chest as blood gushed and squirted out of the hole he made, and blood came dripping from your mouth. He pulled his hand out, that was now stained with your blood, and in his hand, he held your still beating heart, that was slowing down, and eventually, it stopped, and so did your life.
This man was like a devil that collected the hearts of his prey, too bad you were one of them too.
He opened a black case, inside it, he stored your heart along with all the others he robbed, once more he looked at your lifeless figure, the way your head hung limp, with blood dripping from your mouth, it made him grin and shake his head pathetically.
"So pathetic…"
He muttered out while he picked up the now closed case and walked to the door. He didn't spare another look your way, he simply left your dead body there, for whoever was to find it.
This man was the devil. He was a lion. And you were the helpless little lamb.
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Happy Birthday, C.C!
(And a happy belated Valentine's day. One holiday is a bit more important to me than the other. Gotta celebrate my favorite incubus's day or he may cut me. Reader is brief mentioned to be wearing lingerie, but there really isn't anything that suggestive in this fic- Enjoy!)
-
When asked what he wanted for his birthday, C.C gave the same answer nearly every year.
"Why would I want anything when I already have everything I need?.... A new pair of shoes would be nice, but I'm really not that picky about what I get."
A successful career, the funds to purchase whatever trivial possession he desired. If he hadn't found fame and fortune early on in his life on earth, C.C would have been more than happy to mooch off of the desperate, lonely humans who'd do give him just about anything for a crumble of his attention. A short while ago, the only presents that mattered were what he received from the select few in his family he deemed worth the title, but something that has changed recently - another person entering his life who he puts on the same pedestal as the blood he holds dear if not higher.
If there was one thing C.C didn't want for his birthday - it was waking up in an empty bed all by himself.
Reaching an arm over your side of the bed, the drowsy demon is rudely dragged from his sleep as he finds no one there next to him. It's funny to think that a year prior he would have had no problem with this. Now, his heart sinks every time there's no one at his side. You're cruel for making him so dependent on you like this - and not being beside him on his big day.
C.C grumbles something under his breath - stumbling out of bed, making a grab for his phone on the nightstand as he exits the room. The second he turns it on, he's bombarded with hundreds of birthday wishes from friends and fans across several social media accounts. C.C swipes them all away, only bother to read any of the notifications in case he misses a message from you saying you're out. Why you'd leave without him is beyond him, but it was the best his groggy mind could come up with. Turning the corner that leads to the living room, a sea of curses sound from the kitchen muffled by running water.
"Shit, shit, shit- Fuck, why won't it come off?!"
C.C would recognize that voice anywhere. He scurries into the kitchen - biting back a laugh at your unfortunate state of appearance. There you stood over the sink, frantically scrubbing at your palms with a sponge. It was all over your hands, the robe you wore, even your face - pink stains that stubbornly refused to come out no matter how hard you tried. On the counter behind you was a bowl filled with a pinkish mixture - a bottle of red food dye still mixing its top and covered in red fingerprints seating beside it. C.C creeps over while you're distracted and sticks his fingers in the batter.
It's pancake mix.
"Mmm... I think all that dye is supposed to be in the bowl, babe."
Startled by the voice behind you, the sponge hits the bottom of the sink with a wet splat as you look behind you - hands quick at fixing your robes over scantily dressed body. "C.C? You're awake?! You're usually not up til noon - I thought I had more time.... Happy Birthday!"
The more attempt to hide it, the more C.C notices parts of your skimpy attire beneath the robe he had got you on your own special day. C.C loved to see you in his favorite color, but the bright pink fabric lessened the nearly see through aspect of your underwear and top in this lighting. The stockings you wore made up for it well enough - another accessories he loved to see on you that he made sure to voice many times before.
C.C gathers some of the paper towels on the counter. "Well I see you were at least trying to make breakfast - or get readying for Halloween a few months in advance. Sexy vampire is always a nice look."
"The seal just wouldn't come off and when it finally did it spilled all over me... I'm sorry for messing breakfast."
"Hush." C.C pulls you in close, wetness bleeding through his shirt as he embraces you, but he doesn't seem to mind. "We still have everything we need. I'll help you finish up and then we can take a shower together and spend the day in bed. You didn't put that outfit on just for show, did you?~"
"No, it was actually meant to be your Valentine's gift but.... I still haven't gotten your birthday present yet. I was going to take you to the mall and let you decide since there's so many things you like..."
C.C holds you tighter - grinning from ear to ear as he looks over your shoulder at all you've done for him. 'Don't worry.... I have everything I want right here."
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And no room for error (2/2)
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader
Word count: 5.7k
Tags: Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Happy ending, Established throuple, polyamory, military inaccuracies, Mental instability, Ambiguous reader
CW: Trauma, Panic attacks, Paranoia/anxiety, Insecurities, (let me know if I missed anything)
A/N: Part 2 is heeeereee, hope you enjoy, I recommend reading the first part first, but I suppose you can read this as a standalone too.
(Part 1)
(Read on Ao3)
-They help you through the recovery process-
It feels like you're drowning.
There's no air left for you in the world. All the oxygen that was reserved for you, has been stolen right out of your lungs, leaving them burning. Everything feels like it's on fire, making you long for the days when any pain you might feel would be so much less.
Someone's arms are around you, but you don't recognize them. All you can feel is the muscle in them, how strong they must be, how easily they could overpower you without leaving a chance to fight back.
They're telling you something, something about being safe, that you're home, that nothing can hurt you. Lies. It's all lies being fed right to you, nowhere is safe, not anywhere has been safe for a long time. The moment you show weakness is when they'll strike, you have to keep it in, keep it together.
But being broken down into a heave of sobs isn't exactly keeping it together. Your hands are clutched against your chest, pulling at the fabric of a shirt that's definitely not yours. The hands that had been circled around your body like a cage, moved to help you pull the shirt over your head and take it off. Leaving your upper body naked, but finally feeling able to breathe, you suck in a large amount of air that almost does the opposite of its intent and makes you cough.
You turn your head away from the world, into the chest of the body that a few moments ago felt so threatening, now turning into a beacon of light that wants to guide you. Their voice fills your ears, no longer muffled and incoherent, but filled with a comforting familiarity.
"There ye go love, ye're alright."
You breathe in their scent, light smell of aftershave and something else that you can't place, but it's familiar it's home. You're home. The realization finally settles itself back into your skull, making your inherent panic slowly make its way down.
When you look up and stare into those beautiful blue eyes, you find an adoration and love that's tinted by guilt and sadness. It makes you want to break down into a sob again, his sad blue eyes and his sad mohawk was making you frown. How can a mohawk be sad? You don't know, it just is right now.
"Johnny…" your voice breaks just as you call his name, you're not even sure what you want from him. For him to let you go, for him to hold you closer, get you something for your dry throat, or to wipe your tears away. Everything feels like a big blob of nothing in your body, something that feels so painful, and yet also feels like nothing at all.
He shushes you quietly, tugging you impossibly closer, encouraging you to cry it out and get it out of your system. You sigh against him, letting your body turn from rigid to soft and malleable, molding yourself against him to get comfortable. Your breathing slows, coming back from your wild state once you realize where you are.
The bathroom lights hit sharply in your eye, making you turn away with a wince. You lay half naked in his grasp, only a towel hastily draped over you, giving you a little decency. Not that it used to be a problem, both your partners had seen you naked too many times to count.
You look towards the bathtub, filled up and ready. It threatened you, looking endlessly deep and ready to swallow you whole. It whispered to you, that as soon as you dipped your toes in, you'd be dragged under, filled around with a black mass until the water would enter your lungs. That no matter how much you tried to rise up for air, someone would be holding you down.
The second sigh you let out is a lot shakier, the panic is replaced with guilt quicker than you can recognize it. Shame creeping across your chest in a prickly feeling that makes you bow you head away from him.
He interrupts you before you can say it, "It's okay, no need to feel guilty." He shifts slightly on the floor, being careful to not move you too much. "Doctor said it would take time, we'll take it at your pace okay," he says in a quiet comforting tone.
"You ready to try again?" he urges quietly, placing a kiss of encouragement to the top of your head. He rests his chin atop your head, patiently waiting for you to gather yourself and give him a response.
When you gently shake your head against his chest, burying yourself into him once more, he merely nods. There'll be time to try again later in the day, all he cares is that you feel safe enough to try again.
The pancakes are coming out weird. Normally Simon would say he's quite good at getting a round shape and a fluffy look, but today the batter and the pan don't seem to be working with him. Maybe it's the stress, but he doesn't want to admit it.
You've been back for a few weeks now, finally back in their grasp, back in their arms where you're safe and where you belong. Though he should be relaxed now that you're back, he's tense in an entirely new way.
He's no longer afraid that you might be dead, but there's a new fear that has taken residence within him. Ever since you got back you haven't been the same, understandably so. You were put in therapy promptly whether you wanted to or not, weekly sessions that you haven't expressed much opinion about yet.
It’s hard seeing you like this, you're eerily quiet way more often, staring off into space, and no matter what you refuse to be in any room alone. It doesn't matter if you're sleeping, showering, or doing nothing at all. The biggest struggle has been on that matter, they support you in every way they can, but they also know how much you hate it yourself.
How you so easily go in a panic if you're left alone in a room, how hard it is to get you back to a state of calm. It's exhausting on your psyche, and they can see the toll it takes on you. It's bad enough they're not keen on letting you out of their sights for long anyway.
Your therapist said that it would take time, but eventually you'd be able to work yourself back to a state of normalcy, and that until then, all that Simon and Johnny could do was give you all the support you needed. And so, they did, no questions asked.
Simon sighs as he flips another wrecked pancake over, the sizzling of the pan getting to him, the noise grating something disgusting in his brain. He tears his eyes away from his deformed child pancakes and looks towards the couch in the living room.
He smiles at the sight of you and Johnny snuggled up on it, fast asleep the both of you. Stray rays of sunlight comes through the closed curtains, painting your cheek and Johnny's chest in a soft golden glow.
Johnny's arms are secured around your waist, holding you close to him, your head on his bare chest listening to his steady heartbeat for something real for your mind to grasp at. You've been sleeping a lot more recently.
Johnny theorized that you're just catching up on sleep, finally being able to rest and recover now that you were safe. Simon thinks that your brain finds it easier to exist when you aren't conscious most of the time. Though he wishes that Johnny's theory is all it is.
Simon knows all too well what it's like to come back from something as traumatic as that. Some days he feels like he hasn't even fully recovered himself from his own past. It's something that still lives with him all these years later, and it kills him to know that it's likely to be a similar journey for you as well.
At least he can give himself the small reprieve in the knowledge that both he and Johnny will be there for you every step of the way, no matter what you might need from them. However, even then it never escapes the back of his mind that it might as well have been their fault that you got taken.
He pushes the thought away just as quick as it arrives, he's already spent so long entertaining the idea, but the facts are also staring him in the face. You had been targeted almost randomly, at least in the sense that it had nothing to do with them or their job. The men had been revealed to have no connection to the 141 or anything even closely related.
More or less, it was one terrible, terrible coincidence.
He flips over the pancake one last time before putting it on the plate with the rest of the deformities. He turns off the stove and moves the pan off the heat, looking over everything to make sure it's alright to leave.
With a sigh he grabs a towel and dries off his hands, walking out of the open kitchen and into the living room. It wasn't any of their choices, this apartment was not the best fit for the three of you, but it was what they could get on such short notice.
Only having you back home for a few weeks now didn't exactly invite mental space to consider apartment hunting. Though Simon knew you wouldn't thrive for long here, you had already expressed your dislike of the bathroom, and of the window placement. It gave him a little hope that you'd be able to go looking with them soon, that they'd be able to get a full new start soon, but for now it was still too early.
He crouches down next to the couch, carefully reaching over to gently caress your cheek. His thumb glides over a forming scar that’s still visible near your ear. His eyes search over your face, watching the way the light falls on your skin, the way your complexion is, the color of your hair. He maps out the way your face looks, the new changes that weren't there before, he wonders where every little new crease comes from.
You haven't spoken a lot about what the traffickers did to you, also understandably so. You said you were working through it in the therapy, but it didn't make them any less anxious about what happened to you.
"Mh…Welcome home Si…" Johnny's sleepy voice ruffs out, quiet and careful to not wake your sleeping form in his arms. He looks to Simon through half-lidded eyes, he swallows through his dry throat, moving just a tad to try and wake his sleeping limbs.
"When d'ye come back?"
Simon let's out a huff of a sigh, a small sound coming from deep in his chest. His hand moves from your sleeping face to Johnny's instead. His fingers gently gliding over the rough stubble, as he watches his partners soft blue eyes get more and more visible as he wakes up.
"An hour ago," Simon mumbles in response "didn't wanna wake the two of ya, made some pancakes though… " he looks towards the opening to the kitchen and winces, "Well I tried to."
"Hm, am sure they taste delicious, like always" Johnny says with a smile on his lips, his eyes closing as he leans his cheek against Simon's hand. It's a moment of bliss for the both of them, their own little cocoon of happiness, all neat and wrapped up with you in the middle.
It doesn't take long before you're stirring as well, sensing both their presences to be awake. Simon retracts his hand when you start moving your head, to make sure you don't bump into him. "Mornin' love" he whispers quietly, leaning in to place a soft kiss to your forehead.
Your lips break into a soft smile, an even softer sigh escaping you as you mumble something back that was probably supposed to be a good morning. Your eyes remain closed for as long as you can stand it, basking in Johnny's warmth and burying your face into his neck, eliciting a chuckle from him.
"C'mon loves," Simon grumbles rising himself back up to stand, hovering over the couch "let's eat yeah?"
The bedroom is dark and quiet, the only noise that could be heard above the ringing tinnitus in your ears would be Simon's heartbeat. You had always loved being smushed between the two, now more than ever it helped you feel grounded, safe.
You had been awake for a while now, softly listening to their breathing, Johnny's soft snoring and Simon's deep air flow. It's comfortable, nowhere else in the world you'd rather be in this moment. You just had one tiny hang-up about it all.
You needed to pee, really badly.
Johnny's arm was firmly draped around your waist, keeping a pressure that you usually liked while he pressed his chest into your back. You could feel his soft breath on the back of your neck, his presence is overpowering alone already, and next to Simon it's always like things are doubled for better or for worse.
Simon on the other hand, wasn't holding onto either of you per se. His arm was draped out to the side, allowing you to snuggle up to him and lay your head on his warm chest, meanwhile Johnny could use his arm as an extension of his pillow.
You could easily wiggle free if you wanted to, but that was the thing. Even though your brain screamed at you to get a move on to the toilet, you knew that as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom it would be screaming for different reasons.
You had a tendency to really hate your brain lately, and a sudden surge of indecisiveness didn't help the subject either. You don't know how long you've been laying here and thinking about getting up.
You had considered waking up Simon, he said you could, if there ever was anything yet your muscles didn't move.
There hadn't gone more than two nights between, before you had another nightmare that would wake you up. They'd always be there of course, either talking you back to sleep with kind words, or if sleep avoided you, they'd take you to the living room to watch a comfort movie, leaving the other to continue sleeping had they been so fortunate as to not wake up.
You felt beyond guilty about it. You knew that their sleep tended to border horrible already, and you certainly weren't helping it. They were exhausted from it, you could see it, maybe even more exhausted than you, and yet they never complained.
With a soft sigh you manage to wiggle free from Johnny's grip, wincing and recoiling every time one of them seemed to be waking up. Slowly but surely, you managed to get out of their hold, and both of them seemingly still asleep.
You could still remember earlier in your relationship with them when it was all still new and fresh. They'd be much more easily woken up by the tiniest movements, always on alert. They still were occasionally when they had just gotten home from deployment, but it didn't usually take long to get them back into that sense of comfort and safety.
The bed creaks as you settle in the end of the bed, crossing your legs and looking towards the little bathroom that's connected to the bedroom. It's right there, maybe if you're quick, close your eyes, hurry and maybe you can be faster than your fears.
Yet not a single muscle in you moves.
All you find yourself doing is sitting there and staring at the door. You've never felt more pathetic than you do now, and it's not even something you can control. Because god knows you wish you could control it, that you could will it away with a flick of the wrist.
Tears press on your eyes, and you snap them shut to stop them from falling. You refuse to cry, not now, not over something that's so stupid to you. You let out a heavy shaky sigh, your hands coming up to rub at your cheeks and smooth out to your neck. You let your head hang low, trying to get your brain to make up its mind.
You freeze when the bed creaks again but not from your movements this time around. You don't need to look back to know who it is, and another sigh escapes you when you feel his burly body mold itself against your back.
His blonde curls coming into view when he buries his head against your neck and places a featherlight kiss to your skin. He still seems half asleep, his body heavy against your back, using you to lean himself against as he processes what's going on.
"Bathroom?" he asks in a hoarse voice, his tongue smacking against his lips to wet them along with his throat.
You nod quietly, not finding it in yourself to answer him verbally, you have no idea what kind of tone would come out from your vocal cords. His arms tighten around you briefly to mimic a hug, his chest humming against your back when he acknowledges it.
"C'mon love," he leans back and rubs the remaining sleep out of his eyes. When he moves out of the bed you don't immediately follow him. Your eyes going back to Johnny as if to check that he's still sleeping, that you didn't ruin both of their cycles this time.
Simon's hand gently cups your cheek, guiding your gaze upwards to meet his own. "He's still asleep, c'mon" his hand moves from your cheek to your arm, hoisting you up to your feet. Once you get steady it moves again to settle on the back of your neck. A soft and guiding grip that he knows helps you relax, allows you to stop thinking about anything, and put your trust in him to get you to where you need to go.
It's a simple thing, not really needed in this context but you appreciate his attention to detail anyways.
You both quietly move to the bathroom so you can do what you need to do. He slowly sinks to the ground with a sigh, leaning up against the white wall while he lets you do your thing. He almost looks like he's fallen back asleep sitting up by the time you’re done.
You slide down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder before he moves his arm to pull you into his chest. "I'm sorry," you whisper quietly against him, feeling the need to say it over and over again.
"Don't," he stops you quickly, squeezing you closer and placing a kiss to your temple. "You can't help it right now," he sighs and gently runs his fingers over your scalp. "You know that we'll always take care of you right? No matter what you need, big or small it's not a problem," he cranes his neck to look you in the eye.
"I know…" you whisper quietly, "I just feel like I'm ruining everything, nothing has been the same since…well you know…"
"What was done to you was cruel, and completely out of your control dove," he pauses briefly as if to think about the words he's going to say next. "None of it is your fault, a lot of things are different now yes, but it's not changing anything between the three of us, you needing a bit of extra help is not you ruining anything," he reassures you.
You let out a heavy sigh, curling into his body as his hold tightens around you. "It still doesn't feel good," you mumble into his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying his warmth. He had always been a bit of a human furnace.
"I know love, I know" he presses another kiss to your head, "It'll get better though."
A calm quiet settles over the two of you while you rest against each other on the ground. Your hands gently fiddle with his shirt while his own hands tap over your scalp. It doesn't take long before it starts hurting to sit on the hard ground.
"Let's go back to bed…" you suggest with a deep sigh, feeling him nod against you and begin to move to get back up.
You're not surprised to find that Johnny is still fast asleep, having not even moved an inch. He was always such a heavy sleeper when he finally was home, the safety it brought giving his body reprieve he wasn't able to get anywhere else.
Though he didn't fail to notice as you and Simon fell back into bed. He stirred slightly, groaning sleepily as you molded your body to his once again. He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck and breathing you in.
"Where'd ye go" he asks quietly, his voice breathy and almost incoherent to you. His accent always got thicker around certain times; mornings included. Your back arched as you stretched out and got comfortable in his hold, pressing yourself into his chest while Simon comfortable next to the two of you.
"Bathroom," Simon answers slightly groggy, already feeling the pull of sleep beckoning him back under. Johnny mumbled something in response, but you didn't manage to catch it, already off in your own little world of dreams and sleep wrapped up nice and warm in-between them.
When you finally started getting better, it began looking up again. Both your boys were happy with the progress, and for once, you were too. You still had a long way to go, but small steps, one at a time showed progress. It also helped more of your usual personality come back, and of course not to mention the amounts of complaints you had about the apartment they had temporarily found.
Enough so that they finally decided to look at different listings and get a move on the whole process.
Johnny looked on with a smile, as you quietly went through the empty apartment like a cat on the prowl. It was the fourth place they had been to, each one before you had been unsatisfied with, and though Simon had liked the third place shown, he agreed it wouldn't be enough space.
So far you hadn't had any complaints about this one, it was spacious, had a little more room than the old place, and checked off almost everything in your checklist. As far as Johnny could tell, this could potentially be it.
He could definitely see it, lazy mornings spend in the bedroom, Friday movie nights on the couch, Simon and Johnny baking your favorite cake in the kitchen for your upcoming birthday. It was a life he could envision in this apartment, a happy space that was just for the three of you.
You had disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes now, and it got him curious enough to follow you. He walked over and leaned against the open doorway, his eyes landing on you standing in the middle of the room.
Having sensed his presence, you spoke without bothering to turn around and look at him, "There's no tub." His eyebrows creased, as his eyes scanned the small bathroom. There wasn't a whole lot of space, most definitely smaller than the last place, but not any worse in Johnny's humble opinion.
"An absolute need?" he asks you curiously, making his way over to you and sliding his arms around your waist. You let out a sigh and let yourself lean back against him, feeling his chin come to rest on your shoulder.
"Well, no but…" you chew on your lip while you try to formulate your words, but you never get a chance to finish your sentence.
"Right, I've had enough of this prick let's go," Simon appears in the doorway, his arms crossed and even with the black surgical mask on it wasn't hard to see that he was pissed off. Johnny moved to the side, keeping one hand on your hip as he looked back at his other partner.
"Why what's wrong?" you ask concerned, looking back at his darkened eyes, and crossed arms. As much as you had always enjoyed the muscles on his body, he had a very special way of looking threatening when he was angry.
You quietly went over to him through a few steps, Johnny gently letting you go, only being a few steps behind. "Prick's not worth our time, we'll find a new realtor" Simon grumbles, his stance becoming less standoffish as you come into his space.
His eyes soften as he looks at you, and then Johnny behind you. Whatever the realtor did or said really didn't sit right with him. "What'd he do?" Johnny asks in a tone that's as concerned as your expression.
"Doesn't matter," Simon answers his tone laced with annoyance, "we can find better than this place anyway, no tub." He uncrosses his arms to gesture around the bathroom, your own gripe with the place having no tub wasn't only yours.
"The both of ye really want that tub huh…"
Johnny's chuckle makes you smile, turning around to face him and crossing your arms to mimic Simon moments prior. "Of course, the tub is the most important part," you say cheekily looking over your shoulder again to see if Simon agreed with you.
"Obviously" he backs up you up proudly, watching on as Johnny looked at the two of you like you were ridiculous.
"Well, we better get goin' then, clearly this place would be better burning" Johnny laughs, his infectious happiness making you smile even when he ushers you out of the bathroom. You don't get all the way before you collide with something that might as well have been a brick wall.
You blink twice before realizing that the brick wall was a human, and the human was your realtor. You take a quick instinctive step to the side to get out of his way, but at the same time he takes a step back as well.
"Ugh finally, are the three of you done, I've got other appointments you know" The realtor barely even gets to finish his sentence before he's pushed back by Simon. He lets out a pathetic yelp when he drops his clipboard.
"Now listen here Mark, if you ever as much as look wrong in their direction again, let alone even try to actually insult them, I will personally make sure you never see the light-"
"Oookay, time to go love," Johnny's voice filters through Simons hyper specific threats, his hands resting on your shoulders as he steers you towards the door, leaving Simon to it. Despite your struggling and tries of looking back to call for your partner, you don't get free of Johnny's grip before your out in the hallway again.
"Christ…he's not gonna bash his teeth in again?" you ask nervously, trying to ignore the urge to go back in there and drag him out here. It wouldn't be much use, unfortunately he was a lot stronger than you.
"No of course not…the idiot isn't…well he's not that dumb, I think he's just gotta get the threats out of his system…fucker kind of deserved it," a crooked smile decorates his lips as he gently pulls you closer to him.
"He wasn't that bad…he's probably just stressed" you tried to reason, one hand gripping Johnny's forearm as you leaned into him. You had always been rather seeking of touch, even before what happened, but even moreso now, it always felt nice when they instigated it first.
"Darling he…"
"Okay but still, he shouldn’t get worked up so easily…" you decided on, leaving little room for arguing, not that Johnny ever wanted to on purpose.
"Ah know love…" Johnny sighs, his head perking up when Simon comes back out as well. He had always been a bit prone to anger, most of the time it was a quiet simmer inside him, but occasionally it would bubble out.
It was something he said he was working on, but sometimes you wondered how exactly he was doing that. It usually wasn't a problem, so he probably was in control of it, but it never failed to surprise you how quick he was to go off on someone if they were rude to either you or Johnny.
"We done here?" he asks clearly still in a mood, as he looks between the two of you.
"If you're done chewing his head off" Johnny said in response, knocking his head in the direction of the stairs so the three of you could get a move on. He moved away from you and started making his way to the stairs.
Simon took his place at your side, looking to you with a tinge of concern. "You aright?" he whispers quietly, as if he wasn't the one that had spouted a rather colorful threat to someone else. You let out a small, amused huff, nodding your head yes in the process.
"Yeah, I’m just fine."
"And uhm…how long is it gonna be?"
You're sitting quietly on top of the kitchen counter, your back leaned against the wall behind you as you watch Johnny cook. The new apartment suited you; it didn't take long for you to start decorating it with everything that screamed you. Both Simon and Johnny were happy to see it, it was going really well, until they got called for another deployment.
"Price said it would only take a few days, maybe a week" Simon pockets his phone and crosses his arms. He avoids your eyes like they'd burn him if he looked back, he knew he'd buckle so fast if you were using that soft disappointed look.
You hadn't been happy at all when Price made contact with the boys to let them know they'd be deployed for another mission. Theoretically you knew that they'd have to go back eventually, it wasn't like that part would change, but it still felt so soon.
You had only gotten fully integrated into this apartment for a few days now, and while you had done your best to make it home, it was still new. You didn't like the idea of having to be alone in it for even that amount of time.
Johnny hadn't spoken a word about it yet ever since Simon emerged in the kitchen with the news. Though his silence was a pretty clear indicator of his mood about it. Just moments prior he had been chatting away about everything and nothing, now he was quieter than a mouse.
"Look we don't want to go any more than you want to see us leave, but it's nothing we haven't done before," He moves over to stand beside you, his hand running over your thigh and giving it a squeeze. "I'll help you make a list, so you don't get lost in your head," he adds when your hands lay on top of his.
You both look towards Johnny, observing his movements that have become distinctively sharper. He moves the pan off the heat and turns off the stove, not turning to look at either of you for a good few more seconds.
"Don't ye think it's a bit early…" His nervousness is the first the Simon notes. He knows what he's thinking about, the fear of coming back home to you being gone once again. Simon wasn't too keen on the thought either, but their lives couldn't be stopped completely, they had to return at some point.
"We'll be back in no time, just like usual" Simon tries to reassure, at this point not only you and Johnny, but himself as well. Johnny nods, moving closer to the two of you and settling in-between your dangling legs.
He knows they don't have a choice in the matter, it's their job, it's what they signed up for and they have a duty to fulfill. They upped the security on the new apartment, and they've helped you learn some self-defense techniques, he has to put trust in those and in you. He has to believe that your safe, even on your own.
"Love…d'ya pick a movie yet?" Johnny changes the looming subject that puts dread in your mind, to something less thought consuming. You smile for yourself, turning slightly sheepish as you nod your head yes.
Simon seemingly already picked up on it, chuckling quietly at it "Your favorite?" At your confirmation, he scoffs amused, he didn't have anything against it, but you had been watching it on repeat the last week. He was surprised you were still able to watch it without getting bored, but it was your favorite for a reason.
"Aright love, let's go put it on the TV, let Johnny finish our dinner," he pats your thigh bringing Johnny in for a kiss before stepping away and leading you to the living room. You immediately aim for the couch, plopping down and making it creak a little from the sudden impact.
Your eyes go around to the various decorations and pieces of home you've placed around. You've done anything you can to make it feel like your old place, you knew it wouldn't have the exact same feel, but you could still make this new feeling a good one here.
Simon finds the remote and takes a seat next to you, allowing you to cuddle up to him while he flips through streaming services to find the right movie. Before long Johnny would come in with the food, you'd all watch the movie, talk and joke around before falling into bed, cuddling each other until each one of you fell into deep sleep, safely nestled in each other’s arms.
And even though you knew they'd have to leave on deployment again soon. You also knew that they'd come home safe and sound like they promised, and when they do, just like you promised, you'd be here open arms and warms smile, ready to bring them in to the sanctuary you've built.
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I have a request!! Y/N being sent on a mission by Miguel, them being gone for hours and not getting back at him makes Miguel check in on u over Layla & she has to him that they got hurt. A feral/worried Miguel going in for the rescue of a badly injured Y/N, taking care of their wounds and staying by their side. Once they regain consciousness -> lots of apologies and fluff/tenderness would be awesome!!
Thank u for reading this request of madness 🙈 x
Hi anon! Thanks for the request, I had to write it the moment I read it. GAH SOFT FERAL MIGUEL HAS ME IN A HOLD.
I hope you like this 💖💖💖
---
Unsaid words
"LYLA", he called for his assistant.
His eyes glued to the monitor, looking through street footage and maps. His eyes now awake with the thirst of knowing where you were. Your location marker turned offline and he drew a sharp breath. Something was wrong, his mind coming up scenarios that he wasn't very fond of.
"Where is she?", he asked next. His fingers turning into claws that bit into the top of his table.
He was impatient. No. He was worried.
He had stayed numb, not getting close enough to miss anyone but you, his heart began to race, you were special.
"I can't find here active data but it's certain that she's hurt.", LYLA responded. Instantly, he pushed away from his desk, he had to find you.
His suit covered his head with his mask, his claws now fully out as he had only one goal in his mind.
He turned his gadget to the universe you were sent to and jumped into the portal, he couldn't wait for it to open, he shouldn't have sent you alone, thoughts and feelings he had kept hidden were now rising to the surface. He struck his blade into the time fabric tearing it open.
Cold rain greeted him, covering the world he entered in a goulish green. A sign that the anomaly here would be one of the Doc Oc variants. And just as he had though it, he saw a silhouette with tentacled arms climb up a building. In one of its arms, he caught sight of the colour of your suit.
Anger rushed into his system, one mixed with the overwhelming need to protect you. He hadn't felt that in a long time, since he lost his universe. The tip of his tongue felt the sharp end of his fangs bearing out at the thought of losing you.
He didn't waste a second, his eyes were locked on his target.
You grappled against the cold metal that wrapped around your throat. Your feet dangling over the dark city. It was getting hard to breathe and in the state you were in, you were certain that if you were dropped from this height, it would be fatal.
The mask you wore was torn in half, allowing you to witness the sheer force of an object that slammed into the anomaly. Red blades gleamed against the eerie moon as clawed hands tore away a couple metal arms. You could recognize him anywhere. His large back over powering the anomaly as he slammed Doc Oc's face into the glass facade of the building. Over and over, he wasn't like himself, you had never seen him this triggered.
The anomaly lost consciousness and the red eyes in the tentacles flickered out, the grip around your neck easing. Fear filled your system, your eyes widening at what this meant, you clawed against the metal now to hold on, to not slip. But the rain made it difficult, the glass panes were too smooth, it made it impossible for you to catch onto any surface. You pressed into your web shooters only to for it to confirm with a hiss that it was broken.
It was all in slow motion, your body feeling the pull of gravity, the anomaly tilting head back into a fall and the red slits on his mask turning to you, widening as he watched you fall.
Capturing the anomaly was what was important, that was the mission, not one could be killed in action as they had to be returned into their respective universe. Whereas, you, you were expendable, fallen soldiers in this war no one knew about.
So who was he going to save?
Was this another one of his canon events?
But something within you caused you to scream out his name, some stupid want to feel his arms around you again, one last time. And that was what changed everything.
With inhuman speed he secured the anomaly to a broken steel column and dove towards you. He looked like he owned the skies, his blades stretching out against him like his wings, a streak of black, red and blue.
He didn't use his web to catch you, afraid that it would end like a few Gwen Stacy deaths. He retracted his claws, and reached out for you.
His weight enabled him to reach you faster in mid air. You felt his arms circle you, press you deep into his chest as he braced for impact. He held you tight as you felt the smell of tarmac beneath you. He had saved you, even though it wasn't a part of the mission.
With your ear pressed into his suit, you could hear the ferocity with which his heart was beating. He pushed away quicking to inspect you, his thumb tracing over a scratch across your cheek making him grumble. As though you were his priced work of art and someone had defied him to hurt you.
"You came.", was all you could muster to say.
"Of course I would.", he spoke softly as he carried you in his arms.
Now this made you feel like you were untouchable by any force that ever existed. Nothing could be strong enough to pull you away from him.
"lo siento llegué tarde.", he drew closer to you as help arrived to clean up the scene.
"You were right on time.", you responded to ease his worry, which surprised you. He never worried about anyone in this way.
"Oh you've found her!", LYLA popped up next to him.
"He was losing his senses over at HQ.", she laughed.
"LYLA", he warned her.
"What?", she winked at you as she acted innocent.
"Leave us.", he ordered and she disappeared.
His gaze was on you, you could tell with how the eyes on his mask softened.
"I was afraid I might lose you.", he said quietly as he stroked your exposed jaw. His warm touch eradicated the biting cold sting of the rain.
"Where you?", you asked watching his mask unravel, exposing his nose and lips.
You could feel where this was heading, you craved it. But to see him nod to your question in a way that it was the absolute truth set your heart on fire. He had saved you, there was no grander gesture than that. It spoke more loudly than what he could put into words. He held the side of your face that your mask didn't cover, your left cheek, the tip of your nose and your lips.
He leaned down, his hot breath over your cheek sent your mind into an overdrive as he softly kissed you, a cliche. Maybe it was his canon event, the usual spidey kiss.
The pain in your body evaporated just for this second as you kissed him back. Your reaction causing him to pull you closer, as though it was a confirmation. Your intuition in tune with what he was feeling, unsaid words could remain unsaid. Instead he spoke with his hands and a racing pulse in his throat.
He pulled away, his lips now spread out in a smile as the suit engulfed his face again.
"Let's get you cleaned up first and then continue this later.", he chuckled as he opened the portal.
Now that was a command you didn't mind obeying.
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some (semi)crack-treated-seriously for @magnusbae, featuring Hob (accidentally) rescuing Dream, the awkwardness of summoning your naked crush into your living room, and Hob being absolutely ride or die and ready to kill people at a moment's notice
---
It was pure luck that brought Hob to the antiquities sale. Later, he would wonder if perhaps Fortune herself was also an entity, and had been looking out for the Dreams which so often brought her to fruition.
Hob found the poster for the thing by chance when he stumbled over a curb on his way home and nearly faceplanted into a lamppost. And it was similarly by chance that Hob was available that night. By chance, it was not far from his home. So many moments of happenstance stacking up into a bit of luck he’d be grateful for for the rest of his life.
Hob was always interested in any supposed magical artifacts. He knew that magic of some kind existed – no matter that his Stranger refused to tell him anything about himself, Hob was well-aware that he was not human and held powers of some kind – but it could be hard to discern real from fake. Hence, his habit of attending whatever strange auctions might pop up – more for curiosity’s sake than for the need to buy anything.
This sale was different.
This sale had something Hob recognized.
He froze in front of the display case, grip going tight around his glass of wine. Behind the glass panels of the case, a familiar ruby pendant glimmered. It caught the light strangely, reflecting prismatic bursts of rainbow in obliquely wrong directions, and that alone would have immediately alerted Hob to its not being a normal ruby even if he hadn’t been intimately familiar with its proper owner.
Where the hell was his Stranger?
Hob had only seen the man—being—six times, and therefore couldn’t make a wholesale judgment that he never went anywhere without the ruby, but he knew for sure the Stranger wouldn’t have let it wind up here, about to be delivered into the hands of any asshole with enough money.
So where was he?
Disturbed, Hob returned to his seat, waiting for the sale to start. He was tempted to simply break the glass and take the gem, but getting arrested wasn’t particularly on his list of fun things to do on a night out. So he’d have to do things the legal way.
One benefit of being extremely old: Hob had a lot of money to throw around. And while something in him rankled at having to buy something that was clearly stolen from his friend, he had bigger concerns.
Concerns that rattled around his mind as he walked home, ruby tucked safely in his pocket. Concerns whose screaming rose to a fever pitch as he sat down at his kitchen table, looking at his Stranger’s gem under the lemony kitchen lights.
It felt warm in his hands, the cut edges of the gemstone surprisingly smooth. The crimson at the heart of the jewel’s many faces was full-bodied as an old wine and deep as the sea; easy to get lost in.
Hob tore his attention away, looking instead at the empty apartment. The pendant chain pressed into his hands as he held it tighter, the jewel growing ever-warmer between his palms.
“Where are you, Stranger?” he murmured to himself. Hob had no way to contact him, and there were forty years yet before they were meant to meet – if his Stranger even decided to show up. “I hope you’re alright; I hope this”—he squeezed the gem—“doesn’t mean something horrible’s happened.”
He sighed. “If only you were here.”
The room shifted around him, like Hob had taken two steps backward in time and changed direction. Hob might not have even noticed if he hadn’t been staring absently in the direction of the living room at the precise moment that his Stranger appeared on the couch.
Hob jumped so high he banged his knee on the underside of the table. His Stranger seemed equally baffled, looking at his own hands, touching the fabric of the couch as if unsure it was real, then finally looking up at Hob with wide eyes.
Hob stared back at him, breath quickening. Somehow—he could only assume—the magic ruby had fulfilled his wish and summoned his Stranger here, but why was he naked? Oh God, this was Hob’s fault for having one too many… uh… dreams—
“Hob Gadling,” murmured his Stranger, voice hoarse but with wonder in it. “You have rescued me.”
“How?” This was all a lot to take in, but Hob went over to him anyway, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around his bare shoulders. It was unnerving to see him so… unrefined. Disheveled. Hair a mess and body unprotected. “Wait, rescued from what?”
His Stranger’s gaze zeroed in on the ruby, still lying on the kitchen table. Hob wondered if he might be angry, but he just tilted his head in curiosity. “Now, just where did you come across that?”
“Um.” Hob forcibly tore his attention from the narrow line of his Stranger’s neck and shoulders – had he always been that thin under all those fine clothes? Had he eaten at all recently? Rescued from where? – and back to the gemstone. “Bought it. Just a few hours ago. No idea where it was before that. Knew it was yours, though. But no way to get it back to you.” Shit, he was rambling.
“And you used its power to summon me.”
Hob rubbed at the back of his neck. “That… wasn’t intentional. Though, I mean, probably would’ve been if I’d known you needed summoning.”
His Stranger stood, walking on wobbling legs – again, Hob wondered with deepening concern, rescued from where – blanket wrapped around him like a cape, to pick up the ruby from the table. A shudder ran through him as soon as he touched it and he seemed to stand straighter, taller. “How did you use it?”
“Just— just wished you were here so I could make sure nothing horrible had happened.”
His Stranger’s mouth tipped up into that tiny, fond smile Hob had seen so rarely but missed so dearly. “So you could make sure nothing horrible had happened?”
“Hey, you yourself just said you were rescued. Was I wrong?”
“No.” His voice was resigned now. He turned back to Hob, still holding the ruby. It looked far more fitting in his elegant hands than in Hob’s. “You have pulled me from an unjust imprisonment, and recovered one of my tools. I owe you a great debt.”
“You owe me nothing, friend.” Hob cringed internally as the word slipped out, but his Stranger didn’t deny him this time. “I would do it again. Though I’m still not entirely sure what I did.”
His Stranger sat down at the kitchen table. He must have been exhausted, mustn’t he? Who knew how long he’d been imprisoned. God.
Feeling restless at the thought, Hob busied himself making tea, as his Stranger explained, “The ruby contains some of my power. In the hands of humans, it can… bend certain happenings. I am grateful it was not in your possession for longer; it has the tendency to drive men mad.”
Great, Hob thought, of course it does. Kind of like you, my friend. Not that Hob had ever claimed not to be mad, from the start. “Does it usually summon whole beings, though?”
“No. It is curious… I will have to explore this more at a later time.”
Hob placed two cups of tea on the table, nudging one towards his stranger until he, reluctantly, took it. Though as soon as his skin touched the warm ceramic, he wrapped his fingers tightly around it.
“Are you alright though, my friend?” Hob asked, sipping on his own tea. He kept his tone low, casual, gentle, anything not to scare him off. But could he be scared off? Could he actually do whatever sort of quick, magical departure he usually did to disappear before Hob could possibly follow him out of the White Horse? The thought that he might not have the power for it made Hob a little sick to his stomach. “I don’t know the circumstances of this… imprisonment… but I would like to know if you’re alright.”
“I am… alright,” said his Stranger, in a tone Hob did not believe whatsoever, “but I am yet to be truly free. Your use of the ruby sprung me from Burgess’s glass prison, and restored some of my powers, but the binding circle remains intact. Without breaking it, I am bound here.”
Hob gripped his mug so hard it started to burn his fingers. Fuck whoever this Burgess guy was. And he knew, just knew, that his Stranger was downplaying by several orders of magnitude how awful it had been. What gave this guy the gall to capture a being like his Stranger, a being so beyond their mortal plane?
A being so… exquisite. So independent. So free.
“So you have to head back to break it, is what you’re saying?” Hob asked, shaking himself.
“Yes.”
“Well, alright, then,” said Hob, taking a fortifying gulp of his tea. “Then I’m coming with you.”
His Stranger looked—to the extent he ever made such an expression—alarmed. “No.”
“Yes. I’m not letting you walk back into a place you were imprisoned with no backup.” Hob crossed his arms. “As you may know, I’m a fair hand with all manner of weaponry.”
The stubbornness settling on his Stranger’s face ceded into amusement. “I am sure.”
“So that’s settled, then.”
His Stranger didn’t protest again. Hob wondered when the last time was that anybody had tried to help him. How long had he been in there?
“If you come along, you may not like what you see,” cautioned his Stranger.
“Are you saying you’re going to wreak horrible vengeance on them? Cause yeah, I’d hope so. You better save one for me, though.”
Again, his Stranger looked startled, but Hob just grinned.
“So, are we going now, or do you want a fortifying supper first?”
His Stranger was starting to look as whiplashed as Hob had felt when he’d suddenly appeared. “You would… feed me… supper?”
“Can’t go around killing people on an empty stomach.” Besides, Hob thought, more tenderly, you look like you need some care.
But his Stranger shook his head, coming back to himself. “We must not tarry. I do not know how my realm has fared in my absence.”
“We’ll grab a meal later, then,” Hob said easily, and was rewarded with a tiny nod and smile.
He stood, and offered his Stranger a hand up. Their gazes met, and Hob caught a glimpse of that same wonder he’d seen briefly before, when his friend had just been summoned. Confusion and hope at having a hand held out to him. Hob just smiled at him in return.
After a moment, the Stranger took Hob’s hand, pulling himself to his feet with a strength Hob hadn’t expected after such an imprisonment. He clasped the ruby pendant around his neck, and it lay gleaming against his bare sternum. Hob suddenly had to look away.
“We should, ah.” He had to pause to cough, and could just see his Stranger smirking out of the corner of his eye, the devil. “We should probably get you some trousers first.”
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Thief
Rick Flag x Reader
Plot: The weather hasn’t done any favors, leaving you out of clothes. Thankfully, you know where you could grab some in case of an emergency.
Genre: PG-13 (Shared clothes trope)
A/N: I’m sorry if this was so brief and not as well written🥲 I realized I haven’t wrote Rick in a while and it proves because this was sitting in my draft for a good 3 weeks? Final semester so many things were going on. Still hope you enjoy it!
Yes, the yellow shirt makes an appearance😩
Sweating buckets, you stumbled into the shared apartment. Making a beeline for the fridge, you grab a bottle of water, gulping down the liquid like it’s your lifeline.
Curse the fickle minded weather. You swore the weather forecast saying something about breezy winds. It didn’t say anything about a blistering hot morning.
You immediately made your way to the showers once you were sure you could properly stand and not collapse midway.
Shortly after, you stepped out of the shower, satisfied with the cooling sensation lingering on your skin. Opening your closet to retrieve fresh clothes, you realize one problem…
You were out of tops.
Of course. With the unpredictable weather, you finally managed to get your clothes out to dry without having to worry about the torrential rain. Your friends around you convinced you to just get a dryer or head to the laundromat but you were dead set on not having to spend more money than you already were. So natural drying it was.
You racked your head for a solution. Sure, you would have been contended lounging around naked but the windows were too close to the building opposite your apartment and you had intention of jeopardizing you modesty with creeps these days.
An idea lights in your head. Of course! Why didn’t you think of that. You opened Rick’s part of the cabinet, pulling out a yellow shirt. Slipping it through your head, you were glad for the new soap powder you had bought just last week for the smell had mixed nicely with Rick’s scent. As his shirt had covered you nicely, you decided to opt for no shorts enjoying the cool air on your legs.
It felt as if like he was hugging you from behind while you went around your daily tasks. Heat long forgotten, you started to hum your favorite tunes, time ticking away.
The door rattles slightly before revealing Rick with a couple of brown bags in each hand. You don’t seem to notice him as you focused on making breakfast for the two of you.
His eyes can’t help but to roam your figure, specifically what you were wearing. Rick recognized that blindingly bright yellow shirt from anywhere. Honestly, it only reminded him of unsavory memories but when you wore it, the distaste for it somehow disappeared.
“Hey baby.” Rick gently calls out so as to not alarm you. You turn around, spatula in one hand and an infectious smile on your face. Now that you were facing him, Rick feels a flutter in his chest seeing how effortlessly elegant you looked despite the casual home wear.
“You’re back!” You made sure the stove was switched off before making a beeline to the counter where Rick was sitting. “Did you get everything on the list?”
Rick nods proudly. “And I figured you could do with some ice cream especially after that run.”
His brain momentarily short circuits as you give a bone crushing hug, feeling your skin exposed by the lack of shorts press against his own.
“You’re the best! What would I do without you.” An arm around Rick’s neck, you rummage the shopping bags with your free hand only to be stopped abruptly by him. You give him a puzzled look. Rick takes a few steady breaths.
“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
You glanced down, holding the piece of fabric between your two fingers. “Oh… this?” You carefully scanned his unreadable expression.
“Yeah, I didn’t have any fresh clothes so I kinda grabbed one from you… if you don’t like it I can change! I’m sure one of mine would have dried in this heat by now.”
Before you could ramble any further, Rick nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “Don’t, I love it.”
He wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him. “In fact, take this shirt. I want to see you wear it more often.”
Rick’s sudden straightforwardness leaves you blushing. Despite how long you had been together, Rick always made you feel like you were the prettiest woman in the world.
You gently pry yourself away from him, looking at his gaze that was dripping with honey. “Alright then,” you decided to feel a little cheeky today, “I’ll keep it! Don’t say that I’m a thief or something!”
He laughs. “Darlin? That’s exactly what you are. A thief to my clothes and my heart.”
Rick turns away from you, preparing to help you with breakfast. He can’t help but to grin, knowing very well that you were left agape at his smooth delivery.
You barely managed to pull yourself together, mumbling how you were going to fold the clean laundry since he was at the stove. As you leave the kitchen, Rick can’t help but to stare at your thin underwear that was covered by his large shirt.
Yeah, he’ll get more of those darned shirts if he had to.
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omakase
ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — SUNA x MAID! FEM READER; KAICHOU WA MAID SAMA AU
In which Suna becomes the maid.
wc — 700
tags — Set after confectionery, can be read as a stand alone, suna in a maid outfit, fluff, humor
prev: confectionery | shoujo series masterlist
“I’m- woah!”
It used to be strange seeing Suna at your place of work, but after a while, you got used to it.
What you’re not used to is seeing him in one of your dresses. He has one leg stuck in a stocking. The other firm thigh is already firmly encased in the mesh fabric, topped off with a cute little bow.
Your outfit reveals far more skin on him than it would on you. At 6’1”, he already towers over most girls in the cafe. With heels, he’s a Goliath. Your skirt barely covers him - you have to rush forward to stop him from bending over and inadvertently flashing someone.
“Um. Playing a little dress up?”
He perks up as you pull him upright. “Hey! Your manager said Shizuka’s out sick today, so I offered to step in.”
It’s true that Shizuka’s charm point is her height. Her target audience is men who enjoy a little domination, but Suna might be too much for even them.
He sidles towards you, swaying his hips like a model. It shouldn’t be as hot it is. Suna is unfairly pretty. He pulls off anything.
“What?” He purrs, hot and heavy. You splutter, trying to play it off as a reaction to the fact that he’s trying to come on to you at your work place. “You like what you see?”
He tugs his stocking a little lower, pulls his skirt a little higher.
“Oh- okay!” You squeak out and slap his hand to his thigh, immobilizing him. “That’s enough from you.”
He laughs, flashing you sultry eyes that make your throat dry. “Are you sure, master? I can keep going.”
“I’m going to hit you if you keep going,” you hiss at him.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he says with a grin.
“Suna,” you groan, trying your best to look anywhere but him. “You’re impossible.”
But you love it. And he knows it. He’s weaponizing it against you.
“Come on,” he says with a smile, pulling you out back to the alley behind the cafe. “We have work to do.”
“Correction: I have work to do. You need to change out of my dress and go sit at your usual table.”
“You can’t tell me you’re not-“
“Hold up!” That’s Miya Atsumu’s voice. You freeze. This is exactly what you’ve always been afraid of. Suna’s fine. He’s comfortable to be around. You’ve never once thought that he would leak your secret, even back before you’d known him, but Atsumu would do it even if it wasn’t malicious. You don’t even know him, but you’ve heard of what a blabbermouth he can be.
Suna pushes you behind him immediately, shielding you with his broad back. You’re completely hidden behind him. You feel better but - then where will he hide?
“A maid?” Atsumu whistles. “Hey, pretty thing.”
Your jaw drops. It’s impossible. Atsumu doesn’t recognize him at all. He can’t tell it’s his own teammate in the maid dress. You feel Suna stiffen, too, but unlike you, he’s holding back laughter. He’s not stressed out over the situation at all.
Atsumu’s twin is a little more attentive. Osamu squints at him. “Suna?”
“Dumbass,” Atsumu scoffs. “That’s a girl!”
“Nope,” Osamu says. “I’m pretty sure that’s Suna in a wig and a dress.”
You have to hand it to Suna. He really commits to the bit.
Suna gives Osamu a look of utter disgust and offense. With all the strength in his arm, capable of spiking at insane velocities, he slaps Osamu across the face. Poor Osamu doesn’t even have time to react before his head snaps to the side.
“How dare you?” Suna trills in a falsetto. “I’m a girl!”
Atsumu yelps and reaches for his twin’s hand, dragging him away as fast as he can. Osamu, still stunned, let’s himself be hauled away as he reaches a hand up to the angry red mark on his face.
“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, sagging against Suna’s back.
“It’s fine,” he says, smiling down at you. “That was kind of fun.”
You giggle. “You’re evil.”
“Besides, I don’t like sharing anyway. We can keep this our little secret.’
You will your traitorous heart to stop pounding.
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Forbidden Fruit - Part I
The tavern was packed and dimly lit, a cacophony of scents and noises that was almost enough to give Chilchuck a headache. Good. Seated at the counter he let his gaze wander across the crowd while he waited for his order. No faces he recognized, no voices that stood out to him. Even better.
It was only after he had made absolutely sure nobody here would recognize him that he let his eyes flick over to the broad figure at the very back of the room. The man, occupying a table by himself, had not stopped staring at him since he entered the tavern and Chilchuck met his golden eyes for just a second before looking away again.
This was so unprofessional.
But Chilchuck would not be here if there were any other way to deal with the … situation. He tried. Gods had he tried. And failed. Better to get this over with here and now than to suffer through another endless mission with this unresolved thing between them. So when the innkeeper set down two heavy mugs of ale next to him he grabbed them and, with one last, steadying breath, headed over towards the table in the far back.
"Well, hello handsome", he grinned, almost shouting over the noise of the tavern. "You here all by yourself?" It was cheesy but that did not matter. He was not here to woo anyone, he just needed to set the scene.
"Uh", the man mumbled, still taller than Chilchuck even when seated. His eyes were big as they flitted across the room, then landed back on Chilchuck, brows creased just slightly. "I uh, suppose so. Yes?"
Chilchuck nodded both in agreement and to show he was pleased with the answer. He took a seat next to the stranger without waiting for permission, sliding just a bit too close on the bench as he set down both mugs.
"Good. You don't mind me inviting you for a drink, do you?"
Neither did he wait for an answer before he let his hand wander below the table where he found a thick thigh to squeeze. Scratching his nails across the rough fabric of the breeches and digging his fingers into strong cords of muscle. The single touch after months of self control was enough to have him half hard. But to his delight the tallman next to him was not faring much better, pale face flushing and eyes looking anywhere but down at him.
"I've seen you watching me from across the room", Chilchuck continued, nonchalant, as he reached for his mug and took a deep swig. The ale was sweet and left a refreshing, sour taste on his tongue as he swallowed. Slow and languid, savouring. Preparing himself for his next words. Too fast, but they were already clawing at the insides of his teeth and Chilchuck was impatient. Especially after that first touch left him yearning for more.
He squeezed again, noting a tremble to the thigh.
"So if you'd prefer to skip the drink ... I have a room upstairs."
For a moment the tallman was frozen, even his trembling thigh finding stillness. Then he grabbed the mug with both hands and emptied it with quick, greedy gulps. His thumb was still chasing a stray droplet down his chin when he set the mug down again moments later. Sucking the spilled ale from his thumb he looked down at Chilchuck, eyes wide, and nodded.
"I would enjoy that."
His breath was sour-sweet. Chilchuck wanted to climb him.
Not here, though. He mustered enough self control to retrieve his hand and slip out from behind the table. He did not have to look back as he headed for the stairs. The sound of hasty steps following him was enough.
~
The door to his room fell closed with a thud and immediately Chilchuck was pushed up against it as the tallman leaned down to devour him. The kiss tasted of sweet and sour ale, of copper and greed, and Chilchuck was hard pressed to meet it with the same fervour of nipping teeth and sliding tongues.
He had debated with himself about this for longer than he would like to admit, debated whether he should allow the tallman to kiss him tonight. But in the end he knew they needed to get everything they wanted out of this if it was supposed to work. That holding back and drawing lines would only cement the next, enticing thing to yearn for. Especially if the thing they were left yearning for was something as mouth watering as these kinds of kisses.
So Chilchuck leaned back with a low groan and allowed himself to be devoured, meeting that insistent tongue as best he could. Trying to ground himself his fingers curled into the fabric of the tallman's tunic, pulling himself up to meet the kisses with more leverage.
Then clumsy fingers found the buttons of his doublet and Chilchuck got distracted by the attempts to undress him. Soon his more nimble hands joined them and together they opened the buttons. The force with which his doublet was ripped from his body left him breathless, unsteady, and there was nothing he could do but comply when next his shirt was lifted over his head and flung to the side.
With their kiss interrupted golden eyes stared down at him, fiery and wanton. But when the tallman leaned closer again it was not for another kiss. It was to nuzzle his face into the crook of Chilchuck's neck, large hands coming to circle his bare waist as he inhaled deeply.
"Chil...", the tallman whispered between breaths, teeth finding the junction of his shoulder for a quick, harsh bite. "Chil, you smell so good ... taste ... so good..."
A hot shiver ran down Chilchuck's spine and for a second he was reeling. Then he let out a low hiss and slapped the back of his hand against the tallman's chest.
"Shut the fuck up, Laios", he reprimanded. "We don't know each other, remember?"
Above him Laios stiffened, then pulled back from his neck enough to throw Chilchuck an abashed look, eyebrows drawn together and lips curled tight.
"Right...", he murmured, eyes shimmering in the low light of the room. "Sorry..."
Something in Chilchuck's chest pulled tight at that look. When exactly had he gotten this ... soft for the other man? It did not matter. What mattered was that he solved this problem. That was something he could do. Something he always ended up doing. Solving problems.
He sighed, reached up to press his palm against Laios' chest. To keep him from diving down again any moment now.
"It's alright, I'll help you shut up", he said, glancing over at the bed. "Lie down."
Without pause or preamble Laios dropped to his knees right in front of Chilchuck, face alight with curiosity and an ever present readiness to please. Chilchuck almost choked at the sight, throbbing in his breeches at the relaxed implicitness Laios followed his order with.
"On the bed, idiot!", he hissed before Laios could continue and stretch out on the cold, hard ground for him. No questions asked, no hesitation. What was he supposed to do with that?
"Oh, uh ... yes, sir!"
~
Part II
~
Kofi | AO3 | twitter
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the end of love | daisy jones.
pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader
summary: two weeks after your break up, daisy decides to confront you and ask what's wrong.
warnings: it's the 70s, internalized homophobia, eddie being a bit of a dick, daisy is clean and the band is still together, reader is a lesbian.
a/n: i interpret daisy as a lesbian who deals with compulsive heterosexuality.
word count: 2.4k
breathe in. breathe out. it's just one song. record it all in one go, ignore billy's stupid complaints, and then go home.
well, what used to be home.
“daisy, you ready to go?” she heard teddy ask from the other side of the recording booth. “yeah, i'm fine. let's get this over with.” the redhead said before taking a sip of the glass of cold water she had next to her. she closed her eyes as she felt the liquid make its way through her throat.
breathe in. breathe out. she opened her eyes to find the band and camila next to teddy, all smiling encouragingly at her. daisy was about to smile back when the door to the recording studio opened abruptly. “holy shit, tell me i'm not late.”
oh fuck.
daisy felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. why is she here? she was supposed to be in new york, not los angeles.
“y/n! you are kind of late.. hope it was for a good reason.” warren said with a wink “tell me the guy at least fucks good.” the drummer added while wiggling his eyebrows.
the blue-eyed singer wanted to disappear. she tried to distract herself by playing with the hems of her long-sleeved white shirt. huh, funny. daisy thought. she always loved it when i wore this one.
“yeah, warren. he fucked better than you ever will.” y/n answered, not before rolling her eyes at their friend.
they didn't know y/n didn't fuck any guy last night.
they didn't know y/n would never fuck a guy. ever. they didn't know y/n was late because she didn't know if she could face her ex girlfriend after she told her she was leaving for good. they hadn't seen each other for two weeks, and it was fucking torture for both of them. they had grown so used to always waking up next to each other, cooking together, and doing pretty much everything together, and god did it feel weird to not see each other for longer than a day.
daisy felt like she couldn't breathe when y/n left. she always had to remind herself to breathe in and breathe out. it was as if the girl before her took all the oxygen in the world when she walked out of daisy's front door. right. she remembered bitterly as she felt the fabric of the shirt in her hands.
daisy's front door. daisy's home.
because she refused to move in with her even after three years of secretly seeing each other. she refused to let anyone know about their relationship. not even simone, who is like… them. and daisy understood, she obviously did.
it was dangerous to be one of the world's most famous singers and openly date a woman. openly love a woman. openly say the word lesbian. people would crucify you in the street if they knew you were a homosexual. that was the main reason y/n was scared, she was just a tour photographer who happened to become close with the band and fall in love with daisy on the way. if the world knew she was into women, she would never get another job.
daisy tried to tell her they would be okay, to screw the rest of the world. they loved each other. how could that ever be bad? as far as she knew, love wasn't a bad thing. but maybe she only thought that because she didn't have much experience with it. her parents hated her. men used her. she only has the band, simone, and y/n. had y/n. not anymore.
“daisy!” her name being yelled at her got her out of the trance she was in. “are you going deaf or are you just high as shit?” eddie asked from the microphone.
“she's in recovery, eddie. stop joking about that.” she heard a soft voice she could recognize anywhere snap back at him. “right, sorry.” the bassist said with his hands held up high as a way of showing surrender.
y/n looked at her and they made eye contact for a solid second. daisy gave her a small smile and looked down. “alright, let's get this party started!” warren hollered as daisy put her headphones on to start recording. “okay, the end of love, take one.”
the redhead remembered to breathe as she heard the first notes of the song.
i feel nervous in a way that can't be named.
i dreamt last night of a sign that read, the end of love.
she looked up and saw y/n drumming her fingers against her waist. she obviously knew the song was about her. ever since daisy met the photographer, almost every song she has written has been about her. the singer wrote the end of love the day after y/n walked out of her new york apartment.
it's pitiful, she thinks. even when they're not romantically together anymore, she still writes about her.
and i remember thinking even in my dreaming.
it was a good line for a song.
daisy tried to steady her breathing but when she looked at y/n she felt like she was about to pass out.
breathe in. breathe out.
breathe in. i can't fucking do this.
the flower-named girl placed her headphones down and said a quick “i need some fresh air.” before storming out of the recording booth. daisy walked through god knows how many rooms, until she found an empty one in the back of the building, she sat on the floor and leaned against the door she had just walked through.
you dumb fucking idiot, she thought. now they're all going to think you´re singing about someone in the room, or even worse, that you've relapsed and can't record a damn song. she can't go through this again.
if the band thinking she was in love with billy dunne, when she's not even into men, was bad enough, them seeing her overreact this way is going to make them figure out she has been seeing someone.
there was a minute of silence while she tried to think of an excuse to say when she gets back into the studio, but it was all interrupted by a soft knock coming from the other side of the wooden door she has been leaning against.
“i'm fine, karen. just give me a second.” the blue-eyed girl said while running a hand through her long red hair.
“i'm not karen, but if you want me to go get her, i can do that.” her heart sank as she heard y/n's voice.
“no!” she heard her own voice answer in a quick desperate way. she grimaced at how pathetic she sounded.
“well, is it okay if i come in?”
one beat. two beats. daisy unlocked the door.
the photographer walked into the room and sat on the opposite side of the singer, facing her. “do you want to talk about it?”
“talk about what?”
the girl sighed and leaned her face against the palm of her right hand. “about what just happened. you don't normally walk out of a recording session, daisy. not ever. are you okay?” she asked as she looked straight into daisy's big blue eyes.
the singer stared back and bit her lip as she felt her eyes start to water. “i miss you.”
“daisy-”
“no.” she interrupted. “you say you love me but then decide to break up with me.” she says with a scoff. “without even letting me ask you what i did wrong. without even letting me try and fight for you. for us.” a tear streamed down her right cheek.
it took everything in the girl before her to not wipe it, the way she always did.
“listen, i understand being scared. do you think i'm not frightened of how the boys will react if they ever find out we are the way we are? but i didn't care as long as i had you. i know you have your doubts. but why did we have to hide from everyone? simone would never treat us differently. we both know she's a lesbian. just like you and i.” she pointed a finger at herself and the girl who now wouldn't dare to look her in the eye.
“karen wouldn't either, she's too busy minding her own fucking business to be disgusted by us. even camila wouldn't care, she'd be delighted to know i've never felt an ounce of love for her husband” daisy was fully crying now. god, she loved her girlfriend so much. why wasn't that enough for her?
“i left for that exact reason.”
“what?” she asked.
“you deserve someone who isn't afraid to love you. who isn't afraid of who she is.” y/n continued. “you know, billy and graham saw simone kiss her girlfriend at your birthday party” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “and they didn't give a single shit.” daisy was silent as she listened intently to her ex-girlfriend's voice.
“when simone realized they saw her, she told them they'd been together for over five years. and shit, they truly didn't care. even warren said it wasn't fair simone found a girlfriend way before he met lisa.” y/n played with the rings placed around her fingers to avoid eye contact. “the entire band knows about simone, and they think it's normal.”
daisy's heart was racing, she didn't know if it was excitement for simone, because her best friend was able to love her girlfriend without a care. or if it was happiness, because the rest accepting simone could only mean one thing. if the six don't care about simone and her girlfriend, then that means they won't care about her and y/n.
the photographer was silent for a while, so daisy decided to speak first. “i don't really understand. you left me because you're afraid of them knowing about us. but, you also know they wouldn't care if they find out?” the singer´s eyes scanned her ex girlfriend´s face, trying to find an answer.
“yeah… it's stupid.”
“damn right, it fucking is!” daisy sighed. “i love you. you love me. we can at least tell them and simone about our relationship.”
y/n was the one holding back tears now. “i want to. i truly do.”
“then what's stopping you?” her voice softened at the sight of the girl she loves the most crying in front of her.
“I can't openly love you, not when i can't even say… well, you know what.”
“god, y/n. you didn't tell me you were still struggling with that. i could've helped you.”
“i know you would've, but i didn't want to be a burden.” daisy slowly raised her arm and caressed y/n's cheek in the soft, loving way she always does. “you're not a burden. not ever. not to me.” the flower-named girl tucked the girl's hair behind her ear.
“i love you. i love you so fucking much, i can't breathe when i'm without you.” she continued. “you helped me when i was trying to recover from my addiction. you were there when i got out of rehab. you've helped me stay clean.”
“that was all you, daisy.”
“yeah, but you were next to me the entire time. the least i can do is be next to you, while you learn to accept yourself.” “it took me a while to come to terms with being a lesbian, too.” daisy said as she twirled a piece of y/n's hair around her finger.
“i used to think the only way i could make it into the industry was by not caring about men stealing my music because at least people would hear them. fuck, i forced myself to want them, the same way they wanted me. because that was the closest i thought i'd ever get to being loved.” “but that's not what love is. love is what you and i have.”
y/n placed her hand over daisy's. “i want to be brave, for you.”
“you already are. you just need to be brave for yourself. because you deserve it.”
“thank you, for everything.” y/n gave her a soft small smile. “you don't have to thank me for anything, seeing you smile is good enough for me.”
the two women locked eyes, and they just stared at each other for a small moment. y/n's hands began to shake with desperation, she craved the feeling of daisy against her. and suddenly, she felt a force pulling her towards the redhead girl, daisy placed her hands on both sides of y/n's waist, and instinctively, as if her body was made to be next to her's, y/n placed her hands behind daisy's neck, the same way she has done for the past few years, their bodies were pieces of a puzzle made to be together.
they both leaned into each other, they were so close, they could feel each other's noses rubbing together, daisy smiled at the sensation. “can i-” daisy started “you don't even have to ask.” the girl interrupted, before smashing her lips into the singer's.
their lips locked, the two women having been in the exact same position hundreds of times, but this was different. this kiss was about understanding, about forgiveness, about acceptance, about moving forward. it lasted a few more moments until they were out of breath and had to pull away.
“i love you, daisy jones.” the girl whispered against daisy's lips. “i love you, y/n l/n.” she answered with glossy, vibrant eyes. before getting back into her usual cocky self.
“well, not to spoil my amazing new song, which is going to be a hit, but there's a specific lyric i think you're going to like.” she said, trying to fight back a smile. y/n rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's antics.
“oh yeah? what is it?” daisy cupped y/n's cheeks and stared lovingly into her lover's eyes. “i've always been in love with you. could you tell it from the moment that i met you?” the redhead sang before kissing her beautiful girlfriend again, and again, and again.
daisy still had to finish recording her song, and they still had to explain what took the photographer so long to find her, but luckily, this time y/n wasn't afraid to tell them the truth.
we were reaching in the dark
that summer in new york
and it was so far to fall
but it didn't hurt at all.
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Cowboy like me
a/n: besties be warned this is my first time writing smut
azriel x reader one shot inspired by the Taylor Swift song
word count: 1.3k
warnings: smut!
Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon.
Azriel looked at her like he was looking in a mirror. He remembered how she laid on his bed, curled up on her side, snuggling with the thick covers. It had been lifetimes, centuries since they had seen each other. Last he heard she was in the Continent, living as a courtesan. She must have a fortune. With her devastating beauty, quick wits and disarming charm it was never difficult to discover interesting, compromising and incriminating information. That’s why she was one of his most trusted spies.
He never thought he’d run into her in Adriata. She stood on the main balcony of the Summer Court palace, looking at the ocean. He admired how she could adapt to any environment. In Night Court black she was intimidating. In Summer blue she was dazzling. The wind made the flowy fabric of her dress hug her curves. Her hair was shorter now. Back when they knew each other it came down to her waist. Now, it did not touch her shoulders. He could recognize her anywhere, with any hair, any dress. He could recognize her in the dark, blindfolded.
He knew every inch of her skin. Every scar. Every freckle.
His wings tighten as he makes his way over to her. She must be expecting him. There is no way she did not know he would be visiting on official business. “Summer suits you” his words reach her before he does. He takes the next few steps slowly as he comes to stand next to her. “Must be the sun and salt air” he knows she won’t look at him yet. “Night also suits you” his hands are placed behind his back. “Maybe, in another life” she brings her hands to the railing of the balcony. Azriel can’t help but notice there is no ring or any marker that indicates she is in a relationship. It did not surprise him, they were similar in that way. Whatever intimate relationship they once shared had been strictly nocturnal and he was perfectly fine with that. It was only when she had given him her letter of resignation that he yearned for more time with her. The nights suddenly not enough.
“Are you residing here permanently?” Her lips quirked up at that “permanent is not a word I would use to describe anything about me”. He could use that word to describe how she had a perpetual place in the back of his mind and, if he was being honest, his heart.
“How long are you here for?” The question brings him out of his head “until tomorrow”. She hums. “You never told me why” he had been wondering ever since she had gone. “It was time for something new” now she turns her head to meet his gaze. “Was it something I did?” She looks away again “no”. “Then what was it?” She breathes, her chest rising from the action. “You know what it was”. He goes to ask again but before he can formulate the question she says “I have a meeting, see you around”. She walks away and into the palace, disappearing through a hallway.
A knock wakes him up. He goes to open the door, already knowing who’s on the other side. “Sorry to wake you” she says and steps into the room. “It’s alright” she’s in a nightgown “why are you here?” He had never seen her look nervous “you know me better than anyone Az” she said gently and he had a feeling that was the voice she used to get men of power to fall to their knees “and…” she closes the space between them “I’ve missed you”.
He forgoes the mask of indifference and grabs her face, meeting her lips in a searing kiss. Gods, he missed her. His whole body ached at the thought of her. A surprised sound escaped her as he bit her lower lip and slipped his tongue in her mouth. Her hands instinctively went to his hair, like they had done for years. She pulled him away from her and he could have moaned at how her pupil had blown out and her lips had gone puffy “what?” His voice was desperate and she smiled “I just have a feeling that this is gonna be one of those things” and kissed him again. He wasted no time in lifting her hips up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he walked back to the bed.
She fell back on the mattress and he swore he had never seen anything more beautiful. He crawled on top of her kissing and biting his way to her lips. He wanted to take his time with her, savor every inch of her skin, every moan and every movement. She had other plans and made it so she was now on top of him. His hardened cock smothered beneath her dripping heat. She removed her robe and nightgown in one motion. Her nipples peaked with arousal. Azriel growled and sat up to bring her right breast to his mouth, sucking and biting with his other hand he pinched and pulled at her left breast. Her head fell back, loving the sensations flooding her but needing more. She pulled him away and took her panties off and threw them at his face. Azriel caught it and breathed in the concentrated scent of her arousal. She got up from his lap and made to undress him. “Az I need you now” he flipped her so she was on her back and at his mercy.
He pulled out his cock and gave it a few rough strokes. She was aching for him, her cunt fluttering around nothing. He took her in, legs bent and spread wide just for him. He ran a hand up her leg until it reached the apex of her thighs and without warning pushed in two thick fingers. He brought them to his mouth and tasted just how needy she was. “You wanna taste?” She nodded desperately and she moaned as he pumped his fingers a few times before bringing them to her mouth. She sucked and slurped up the liquid. When he took his fingers out she begged “Az, please” he loved seeing her plead for him. “You want my cock?” She nods “say it”. “I want your cock” he thinks he can see tears welling up in her eyes.
Her pussy is throbbing, he brings his cock to her cunt and slides the tip from her sopping hole to her soaking clit, teasing. Her tears spill “Az, please fuck me”. With one slow, frustratingly slow stroke he sheathes himself inside her. She grabs his face and kisses him, she can taste herself on his tongue. His thrusts turn into pounding. The pace brutal. She moans when he bites her neck and thumbs at her clit. With trembling hands she runs her finger along the lines of his wings, like she knew would drive him crazy. He hisses and bites down harder. Her pussy is throbbing, her climax near. “Cum for me, baby. Be good for me” she has no control as a wave of pleasure crashes into her. She moans his name until it's just incoherent mumbles “where do you want me to finish?” She’s still spinning as she wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him deeper “fill me up” he thrusts into her until he reaches his high, his cum coating her walls. Her legs are still wrapped around him as he bends down to meet her lips.
“Stay with me” he says, arm draped around her waist keeping her back flush against his chest. She thinks for a moment. “I can stay with you if you promise me forever”. They don’t speak the rest of the night. They drift to sleep in each other's warmth and he knows that by morning she’ll be gone.
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Alt for the academic rivals mizu x reader. Imagine the reader recognizing mizu hand writing from the beginning because they've been rivals for so long so she knows the notes are from her but just wants to wait to see how things go and when they ask to meet she tells mizu she knew all along but just wanted to tease her😭😭😭😭😫😫😫😫😫😫😫ACADEMIC RIVALS IS MY FAVORITE TROUP
pairing: modern/high school au!mizu x fem!reader
warning(s): light swearing
a/n: HEHE readers just like “bitch, you’re not sly, I have been fighting with you for two goddamn years, you thought I wouldn’t notice?”
word count: 371 words / 2,038 characters
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the day you started getting little love notes in your locker, you knew who it was. you could recognize that handwriting anywhere, from the various projects you’d worked together on.
someone who you’d called your “rival” for so long.
mizu.
you found it cute, that she even tried to hide it. just little things.. like the way she dotted her i’s, or the way she wrote her e’s, sloppily unlike usual.
but you knew her.. and you knew that you were definitely going to tease the hell out of her for it.
yet you would leave it be for a little, see if anything came of it.
and when the time came when you were supposed to meet her in the park, where you supposed she would tell you everything that was going on.. you were, honestly, ecstatic.
you couldn’t count the days that you had liked mizu; it was always a thought in the back of your mind. just because you were rivals, or whatever, didn’t make her any less attractive. it might have made her even more attractive.
when you arrived at the park, you saw her face, lit by the setting sun. it illuminated her eyes just right, a soft, simple smile on her face.
“hi, mizu.” you smile, as if this was all normal. her eyebrow raised, confused.
“.. you seem like you were expecting this?”mizu cocked her head.
“ha,” you laugh a little, “I kind of was, actually.”
she chuckles nervously, blushing, “how come?”
“I can notice your handwriting anywhere, mizu. I’ve known you since grade school,” you take a few little steps toward her, dropping your bag at your feet. your hand rested on her cheek, your thumb rubbing against her cheek. “and I think it’s cute how you tried to hide it.” you teased, giggling.
she adverted her eyes, mumbling something incoherent.
“huh? what was that?” you tease once more, cocking your head.
without another word, she pushes her lips against yours, forcing a satisfied hum from you lips. her hands gently caress your waist, thumbs drawing circles over the fabric of your skirt.
“.. you seem a little desperate to kiss me, hmm?” you giggle against her lips.
“maybe just a little bit.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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