#to see how fast he’d strip

[yaoiconnoisseur]

Yuri should have never agreed to attending Victor’s birthday party the year he reached drinking age.

#i’d like to think that #chris and phichit conspired with victor #to get yūri as drunk as possible #to see how fast he’d strip #soley to watch yuri slowly lose his mind #over the course of the night #only after promising yuri that #no Gross Shenanigans #would be happening #xd #yuri on ice #yoi #yuri!!! on ice #yuri plisetsky #victor nikirofov #viktor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #my art #fanart #yoi fanart #yuri on ice fanart #yuri!!! on ice fanart #meme redraw

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point. 

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 

“Exercises?” You ask warily. 

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 

How easily he could take everything from you. 

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 

You wonder if he feels responsible. 

You hope he does. 

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 

 “I don’t know.” 

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. ���We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 

“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 

“From the institute?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 

It must be exhausting. 

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 

You don't want to think about the things they've done. 

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 

You know nothing about them. 

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 

It’s only been two weeks. 

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 

It had been expected of you. 

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 

Just past one a.m. 

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 

“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

[laiiaaa]

CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

length 2k

contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.” 

He could’ve done that much by now—could’ve cleaned himself, rid himself of a day's work before seeing you—but truthfully, waiting any longer would’ve driven him mad. He would’ve been itchy in the shower, skin aflame knowing he could’ve felt your touch by then, arms and hands jittering to have your curves beneath them. His lips trail down to your wrist before he turns over your hand to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Okay,” you answer, muffled by the blankets and pillow and the squeak of the floorboard as Carmen stands back up.

He makes his trip quick and quiet. He brushes his teeth and swipes up a towel while the water heats up, leaving just enough time to hang it on the hook and strip before hopping in. There’s a beat where he closes his eyes and just breathes, clears his mind of the day’s stress, lets warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his back. He lathers his hair with shampoo—the one you bought for him once to free him from the chains of 3-in-1 and that he’s been purchasing ever since to keep you happy—before cleaning the rest of his body, all while thinking about how much better it’d feel, how much more relief he’d get if it were you beside him under the stream instead of just his thoughts. But with the shampoo and soap down the drain goes that idea, much like the fleeting thought of using conditioner. You’ve yet to get to him on that one, especially at a moment like this, when time is of the essence and you’re waiting on him. Maybe another night, when you take your own product and swirl it around his curls; if it gives him an excuse to stay with you just a few minutes more, he’ll do it.

He hops out of the water like it’s acid and wraps the towel around his waist after drying himself to avoid trouble in the morning (you hate when the floor gets wet, and even if it wastes time, he’ll be sure to prevent that). Out goes the light again as he walks into the hall, sneaking back into the bedroom to get dressed into briefs and nothing more—you’ll keep him warm enough under the blankets.

It’s only then—when he peels back those final layers—that he realizes he’s been smiling the whole time.

Once he’s settled into the grooves of the mattress, chest to your back, you’re turning around to curl into his torso, like a magnetic field brought you there. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Y’don’t have to move f’me, yeah? Just sleep, baby.” Moved by your eagerness, his arms curl around you, one along your waist as the other nicely fits comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder. 

And yet you shift a little more to cast an arm against his chest, his heart beating beneath your palm, head on his shoulder with a leg hooked onto his hip, split halfway between mattress and his body. “ ‘S more comfy this way, Carm.” You sigh and breathe deep into his skin. “You smell good, too.”

He can’t even lie well enough to convince himself his heart doesn’t run a million miles faster when you cozy up to him like this, caught in a space part fatigue and part love, with your hums ringing in his ear. “ ‘S that shampoo you got me a while ago…Sometime this week—” he yawns, and if he weren’t dying to hear your voice a few more times, he’d be a little more thankful for sleep coming so easily— “Sometime this week we can go t’the store, you can pick out another body wash f’me to try, too.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” You smooth your hand from his chest to his neck and shoulder, massaging there gently where he gets sore as a barely-there kiss lands to the skin beneath you. “How was it today?” The restaurant. His headaches. Richie’s mood lately. The flow of the kitchen. The strain in his back.

“Was alright,” he answers, as honestly as he can, soothing himself by brushing a hand up along your spine. “Real busy, so I didn’t get to leave ‘till late, ‘m sorry.”

“ ‘S alright, I stayed in and just relaxed for the night.” You snuggle into him a little deeper, and he thinks he could melt. “I was gonna ask you to bring something home, but it’s a weekend, so I didn’t wanna bother you in a rush.”

“What’d you want?”

From your lips comes a light and airy giggle, milliseconds of the best sounds he’s ever heard. “I just wanted some fries, honestly…didn’t feel like going out.”

“Heh,” he laughs, smiling while his eyes stay glued to the ceiling—as if looking at you would make the moment disappear. “I would’ve picked ‘em up for you, ‘r at least had Fak get ‘em to you.”

You yawn in tandem with the tailend of his thought, so your answer’s a bit softer. “Uh-uh, I like them better when you make ‘em.”

“Yeah? ‘ve I been pampering you too much?” He teases you, adds on a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezes you a bit tighter, but it’s all a ruse to cover up how much faster his pulse is when you say those words, like all the work he’s put in—all the love he has for you—makes its way to the table for not just anyone, but for you, the one person he’s sure matters more than the rest. More than those fucking stars, more than Chef of the Year, more than any critic’s review, more than he can wrap his head around; he feels it in his chest and that’s enough.

“Of course you have,” you agree, peeking up at him and craning your neck to plant your lips to his jaw, savoring it long enough to leave a smirk against his skin. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bear—” one more quick peck just beneath his ear— “love when you cook for me.”

He thinks he could pass out like this, with the last thing he hears being those words, but his fatigue seems to serve as an anesthetic that lets him soak it in for a bit longer, running his free hand through damp curls while a heavy, giddy sigh leaving his lips that lets you know he hears you, that he loves telling you he loves you through his art, that he lives for the smile on your face when he stays home for a few hours longer to make you breakfast. Yet with all the time spent having his shell soften for you, he can’t always find the right words, so he settles for the next best thing: “Y’know, uh…Marcus’s been playing around with recipes…”

He feels you smile against his chest, knowing what’s to come. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an’ I’d never let ‘im serve ‘em, ‘cause, y’know…” He loses himself for a moment in the lull of your fingertips tracing mindless shapes into his chest. “They don’t fit the menu…but uh, he made these…these rolls today…”

“Mhm? ‘M listening…”

Carmen knew that, of course, from the faint kisses you peppered between breaths. He lets the fan whir through the gaps in his thoughts. “I think you’d like ‘em, he had some classic cinnamon, ‘n…a blueberry lemon goin’…”

“That sounds really good,” you whisper, the syllables lengthened from a shared lack of sleep.

“I know,” he drawls, and he’s a little too proud of himself for once when he adds, “Which is why I said I’d let ‘im fix up the lemon recipe a few more times if he made a batch for you.”

“Did you really?” The dazed smile comes through in your voice, a bubbliness to it that tells him he made the right call. 

He figures that’s why he’s so drawn to you—all the right calls come easy to him, the effort feels natural and unpracticed, unlike the tar that builds in his throat when it comes to so many other people. With you, being good is anything but demanding. “ ‘F course, baby…” 

It turns him to a puddle, the sweetness that drips from your fingertips, so he cradles your wrist carefully in his hand and lifts it to his lips to show it the love it deserves before urging the hand to busy itself with the tufts of hair behind his hear, to which you happily oblige. You twirl a lock around your finger, performing a methodical spiral, and even though he knows by the time it dries it’ll stick out from the mess like a sore thumb, he’d stop breathing before pulling your hand away. It’s soothing, that pattern. It stokes the fire in his gut that makes him feel a little less lonely when you’re not around.

“I brought…” He yawns again, his eyelids growing heavy. “I brought you some of the cinnamon rolls…Sugar liked ‘em…they’re on the counter for you tomorrow mornin'…” He’s not sure whether it’s your doing or the hours of stress endured throughout the day, but he knows this is the most relaxed he’s ever been, laying with you and doing little else other than indulging in your tender touches and shy kisses.

“Thank you, my love,” slips away with breath, sotto voce, as Carmen leaves brief kisses to your hairline. 

And he thanks God for being able to do it even with such an intense fatigue washing over him—at least part of him does, the part that’s still awake—because the movement lets you tilt your head and graze your fingertips by his jaw, bringing his lips kindly to yours for the first and last time tonight. Somewhere in that beautiful tangle there’s a mutual agreement: an unspoken Goodnight, I love you, in the mix, a finality in his offering and your gracious thanks that doesn’t warrant anything more than your head tucked neatly into his neck, left to bask in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you.

Just like any other night with you, he can sleep peacefully with the unconscious push and pull of your bodies intertwined. He knows that by morning, you’ll still be in his arms, in the bed you share, waiting on your good morning kiss from under the covers.

And he’ll still be beneath your warmth, his mind fuzzy and full of tenderness, every part of him dying to marry you.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagines #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear #carmy the bear #the bear fx #the bear x reader #the bear season 2

[dark-and-kawaii]

꧁༺ 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒪𝒻 𝒜 𝑀𝒾𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 ༻꧂

Astarion didn’t think this pregnancy would last, that the gods would laugh at his face once more while stripping him of his child. However the wiggling infant in his arms confirms that the gods showed him mercy for once in his life.

Pregnancy - Birth - Angst - Fluff

(Click For Part 1)

A cry escaped your lips when the pain became too much, leaning on the wall for support. Astarion wasn’t too far from you, never was ever since he found out you were caring something precious within you. He was fast on his feet bursting through the twin doors in Elven Tavern; he took in your appearance and notices the sweat that glistens on your body, your damp hair clinging to your face, “What is it!? What’s wrong?!”

Astarion’s face was full of apprehension, he only ever expected the worst to happen with either you or the child. He didn’t think this pregnancy would last and that the gods would laugh at his face once more while stripping him of his child. He had heard rumors about vampires being able to get others pregnant but most would wind up as miscarriages… or worse, the death of the mother.

“Astarion! I-its happening, the bab-” another pained scream erupts from you as you hold below your swollen belly. Your eyes wander over to where your water had broken, no blood evident. The sheer dread in Astarion slowly dissipates and instead is replaced with a fangy grin as he sees the puddle on the floor.

High spirits only last so long with Astarion though, his doubts always end up consuming him, “Are you sure?…” it was still so hard for him to believe that this world would show him some sort of mercy or happiness. “H-how do you know…” his voice was quiet, “that it’s not already dead inside you…?” Head hanging while his vermilion eyes stared at your stomach.

You can only nod with a soft smile, “it would seem not every god or goddess loathes you, Astarion… Your child- our child, is ready.”

‘’If you’re sure I’ll find Shadowhe-’’

You grabbed Astarions cotton shirt with a steel grip, stopping him from leaving. “Ther-“ you hold back another scream, “ngh-! There’s no time, you’ll have to do-“ You couldn’t contain it, your cries interrupted you, Astarion holding onto you as panic filled his face. He never thought he could get more pale, but he’s sure if he could see himself he’d be as white as the snow in Icewind Dale.

“No! no! No! Absolutely not! You want my help?! What are you thinking!? I only know how to stick a child inside you, not the other way around!?’’

The way his voice always gets so high pitched when irritable was something you always found amusing. Had you not been in so much agony you probably would’ve had some sort of retort.

Instead you twist your body in his grip to grab hold the sides of his face, “You can do this, you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Look at everything you’ve overcome.”

Astarion clicked his tongue, “I’ve only made it this far because I’ve had you at my side.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m the one carrying your child and at your side now,” removing your hands from his face you grabbed his hand, “we can do this.”

Wasting no more time, Astarion rolled up his sleeves and ripped your dress before helping you onto the bed. His hands were shaking as he helped you on the bed, the veins and muscles in his arms slightly protruding as he grabbed your legs from under you to move you closer to the bed's edge. Nervous was an understatement, he was the one who was going to deliver his own child, what if he uses too much strength- “Astarion,” you broke his thoughts, nodding to him, reassuring him it’s okay.

Bending forward, Astarion gazes at your stomach speaking to his unborn child, “you pick now of all times to want out… really?”

Your legs were propped up and spread as you took a sharp breath through the contractions. He looked at you and kissed the inside of your thigh, praying for the first time in years that the gods would make sure it all goes smoothly.

You never heard how the doors to your shared inn opened up to reveal the rest of your companions. Never heard how your baby cried out as Gale shoved a finger in its face trying to be playful, or how Astarion yelled at him, “Gods! Why do you always have to ruin a good moment, Gale!”

“Awh look at the little guy, little Astary!” Karlach was so happy for you both that she couldn’t contain her tears of joy, “H-how’s” wiping away her tears, “how’s mama bear doing?”

Astarion took a seat on the bed next to you, cradling his son best he could as the infant tries to grab the string on his ruffled shirt. “Exhausted. I’m not sure if you noticed, but if you look around to see the mess we made we had to deliver our son on our own since someone wasn’t around.” He looks to shadowheart.

“It looks like my skills weren’t needed,” she smiles at the vampire, “good job, Astarion.”

Halsin spoke out for you knowing full well that they should let you get some sleep, “We should all take our leave for a while, or at least give the new parents some space. This is a precious time, a joyous one for them both.” His large arms stretch out to guide the party away from you both.

Astarion’s grip on his son tightens as he carefully maneuvers down next to you. His smile never falters while placing yours and his son between you both, his arm wrapping around the two of you pulling you both into him. It never crossed his mind until now, but he never needed to ascend, never needed that type of power because he’s realized that you are what gives him strength. You and his son are what will keep him strong enough be your shield.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #tav #astarion x you

[roseychains]

gojo with a squirting kink

Gojo with a squirting kink

A/n: requests open btw… winks

C/w: minor writing smut!, squirting(obi), fingering, cunnilingus, slight dirty talk, pet names.

After stripping both yours and his clothes off, he’d immediately be diving inbetween your legs. Starting at the inside of your thigh, leaving little bites and hickeys in a trail, getting of at how you squirm and moan from his touch, until he gets to your cunt.

He would grip your thighs and hold your legs open, before leaning in, giving your clit a teasing kiss become sucking on it, your hands rushing to his hair. Detaching his mouth from your bud. “Tsk. Hands to yourself, naughty girl.” Whimpering as he’s quick to return to skillfully working is tongue around your pussy

Bring a hand up from underneath, slowly sliding in one finger at first, curving it up and rubbing agonizingly slow against your g-spot. “S’ not enough.. stop teasing toru” pulling his finger out just to add another “careful what you wish for, baby.” Was the last thing you heard before he began pistoning his long fingers in and out of your cunt, all while keeping his mouth attached around your clit, sucking you hard and fast.

The pleasure from his mouth around your clit and his digits pressing up against you in all the right spots, curling up and rubbing on that spot that made you see stars, bringing you so close to that edge. Your body heated up and you wrap your thighs around his head. “Fuck I’m cumming!~ agh ahh!~” squirting all over his face, drenching his face in your wetness.

“Fuck baby, that was hot. Need you to do that f’me a few more times? You can do that can’t ya?”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru #gojo smut #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo #gojou satoru x you

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Hmmm let's see maybe this one is not so crazy but Steve asks us to touch ourselves while he watches.

18+

“Really?” You ask, brows pinched together in confusion. You’re already hot thinking about it, you’re certainly going to enjoy yourself but Steve? Well— is this what he really wanted? “What about you?”

Steve huffed out a breathy laugh, sprawled out against his pillows, his hand already squeezing at his half hard cock beneath his sweatpants. He gaze roamed over you, greedy, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes wide. You saw him swallow hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You were too far away to kiss it.

“Trust me, babe,” he nodded, looking drunk, looking gone. Steve was far too excited at the prospect of what was about to happen. He’d been aching to ask for so long, overly eager when you agreed. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

You smiled at that, shy with how pent up he seemed. So you nodded and settled back into the chair you’d taken from the boy’s desk. Steve lifted his chin in encouragement, giving his cock another soft squeeze.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed softly. “Get comfy, yeah? You good?”

You nodded, lips pressed together and the room seemed to grow warmer despite the way your sleep shorts stretched high across the tops of your thighs. You felt as greedy as Steve did as you let your eyes fall to his lap, where his large hand was palming over his obvious excitement.

“What d’you want me to do?” You whispered. It seemed too quiet to talk normally now, the mood set, the lights low, the rest of the house, the street, the town almost silent. “Should I—?”

You gestured to your shirt, an old summer camp thing that was sun bleached and faded. “Should I take it off?”

Steve grunted a little at that, his cock kicking up against his fingers. “Whatever you want, ‘kay? Why don’t you just do what you’d do if I wasn’t here, huh?” Steve sucked in a breath when you went straight for the space between your legs, fiddling with the thin strip of cotton until you could stretch your shorts aside. “Fuck, honey. There you go.”

You let your eyes slip shut at first, head resting back against the chair, your fingers pushing against your underwear until you could feel yourself soak through the material. You avoided your clit for now, fingers pinching the cotton so you could pull it between your folds. It felt vulgar and dirty, your pussy pulsing around the material you pulled taut, hips arching against the friction.

Steve choked out a moan, a rough sound that spurred you on, your eyes half open and hazy as you watched him scramble to set his cock free. It sprung out and slapped against his bare stomach, his hand wrapping around the girth to pump it once, twice.

“Oh, Christ, baby,” Steve hissed, his eyes completely focused on your cunt and the way you were teasing it with your own underwear. “That’s fucking dirty, s’hot as hell, fuck—”

You whined, face scrunching with pleasure, the heat that nipped at your skin only spiking with Steve’s words, his praise.

“You’re being so good,” he whispered, the wet shlick of his cock in his fist punctuating each word. “You look crazy fucking sexy, right now, d’you know that? Lemme see your tits, honey, please? They’re so pretty.”

You scrambled to yank your top up, clenching the material between your bared teeth so you could let Steve stare at your bare chest, nipples pebbled for him and the cool air.

Steve hissed, his thumb rubbing harshly over his slit as he tugged at himself a little faster, his own teeth biting down on his bottom lip, his cheeks red and his eyes glassy. He looked gone, wrecked, and so, so fucking pretty.

“Get ‘em wet for me, baby, show them some love for me.”

You nodded, brows knitted together and Steve knew you’d do anything he asked of you. It made him grip his cock harder, staving off the orgasm that was creeping up on him far too fast but then you took your fingers from your pussy and let a little pool of spit cover them, swiping your mess over a hard nipple.

“You’re going to fucking kill me,” Steve gasped out, his voice rough and cracking. He threw his head back, messy hair against his pillow and his jaw tense. “Fu-uck me, honey, shit.”

You were desperate now, fingers on your clit and rubbing messily across it, a harsh swipe back and forth that was sure to make you come hard, if that’s what Steve wanted to see.

And then:

“Yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it.” Steve was watching you again, slack jawed and his hand fisting himself furiously, his gaze on the way out were bucking against your touch. “Lemme watch you come and I’ll make sure you do it again, yeah?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve baby blurb

[sigilsmut]

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

Damn my ass did not make it in time again. Am I still gonna post it? Sure why not.

This goes out to @sanjisblackasswife​ as a small present. I hope this is ok Timi 😭 🖤 Happy (belated) birthday

CW: established relationship, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, lingerie, a few petnames, Sanji being a pervert per usual, just plain nastiness

“How are you fairing, mon cher? Are you still with me?” Sanji’s muffled voice asks you as if he hadn’t snatched three orgasms from you in the past 2 hours. 

As expected, you couldn’t form a proper sentence, your mind as hazy as your watery vision. He was three fingers deep into your pussy while his other hand kept a vice grip on your body. That didn’t stop it from squirming as much as it could, however. A string of moans blessed his ears like the sweetest melody. Smooth, creamy legs spasming around his dizzy head.

The blonde had surprised you with a heartful breakfast earlier, slaving over the stove at the ass crack of dawn to make sure your birthday started off on the right foot. When you expressed concern over how tired he’d be, he simply brushed it off, reassuring you that ‘it’s what my goddess deserves’.

Of course, a banquet was also held for your special day. It was filled with numerous activities, rounds of bubbly drinks, and little heartwarming speeches of how each Straw Hat (in their own quirky way) was grateful to have you in their lives. And you were just as grateful to have them in yours.

But what kickstarted the moment between you two was towards the end of the night, where Sanji had walked in on you changing. By accident? On purpose? Who fucking knows. If his flushed cheeks, slick grin, and nose running of blood was anything to go off of, he didn’t feel any remorse seeing you in your scantily clad lingerie. 

A baby blue set, complete with white garters and a pair of blue satin panties. All in his favorite color. You went on a birthday shopping spree with Nami earlier and the set caught your eye. Thinking it’d be cute for you and your boyfriend, you immediately put it on after purchase. It was apparent now that it was a good choice to make.

After locking the door behind him, his long legs carried him to where you stood near the bed. He gently set his hands on your waist, and after giving him the go-ahead, it was downhill from there.

Hands groping and tracing over areas where his lips followed close behind, no part of your sun-kissed bronze skin was left unmarked. The stubble on his chin tickling your belly and inner thighs as he went along. It’s what led to now, with three of his fingers curling into you and his tongue tracing circles around your clit. The sheets became stained with the mixture of your juices and his saliva, but neither of you seemed to care. The bed shook from how aggressively he humped into the mattress, rolling his hips and dragging his hard on against the sheets. The friction made a delicious burn grow against the tip of his cock, and a groan bellowed from his chest.

“Lemme have another one, Y/N-swan...” He mumbled. He took your clit into his mouth and hummed, picking up the pace with his fingers. Your back arched off the bed, screaming into the darkness of the spare bedroom as you gushed into his mouth. He lapped up everything you gave him and only eased off of you once your fingers pushed his head away. 

“You taste absolutely divine, darling, like the sweetest nectar I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. I can never get enough of eating you out.” He heartfully grins like the nasty pervert he is.

Finally he sits up and strips himself of his boxers, groaning as his cock sprang free and slapped against his abdomen. In your stupor, you drooled at the sight and weakly reached forward to dab at his tip. He shudders.

“Such a pretty dick, ‘Ji...” you sweetly murmured. You swear you’ve never seen a man move so fast.

You blinked and he was hovering over you. Your body quivered as you realized that he was already pushing inside you, eager to bring you back to cloud nine with him this time. As his pelvis kissed yours, so did your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head as you tasted yourself. The bedframe slammed into the wall as his lithe hips snapped into yours. Your eyes widened, balling the sheets into your fists as you held on for dear life. Sanji gazed down at you in astonishment.

From his perspective, the moon was absolutely gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as you. Sanji thought he might cry, still in disbelief that he got to have and pleasure someone as beautiful as you. Your watery brown eyes looking up at him with so much love, your locs sprawled out all over the pillows and yet framed your face perfectly. Your puffy lips in an ‘O’ shape, crying out from his purposeful thrusts. Your brown skin seemed to be glowing with how the moon shone on you. In his eyes, your beauty outshone all the stars in the sky, your angelic voice reaching the Heavens at this point. 

It’s almost as if that was his goal with how fast he was going. 

His slender hands lifted your lower body, wrapping your smooth legs around his waist to push himself in deeper. The blonde craned his head back and moaned, feeling your velvety walls clamp around his cock in a vice grip. His breath hitched, slamming his hips into you even harder and rolling his mushroom head into that one spot that made your toes curl. The bed creaked and croaked underneath the two of you, and it was absolutely certain that Nami would give you shit for how loud you’re being.

“Gimme another one, cherie, pretty please..” He weakly begged of you. His fingers rubbed over your clit rapidly and you groaned, the amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Your whole body shook as a silent moan escaped. Your walls squeezed again and the tension in your belly released. “S-Sanji-!”

“That’s it, princess. Let go for me” he encouraged you. He mewled as you reached your high for seemingly the fifth time tonight, your juices gushing all over his pelvis and all over your thighs. His curly brows scrunched together and tears began to swell in his eyes, groaning as he filled your walls with his warm, sticky load. You have never felt fuller than this moment. 

His body curled over you, his hot labored breath in your ear. He turned to you, moving a loc out of his way to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Happy birthday, my sweet Y/N.”

“Thank you Sanji.” You smiled lovingly and he returned your expression. Once you calmed your breathing, you reached your hand up to caress his cheek. Sanji was eager to lean into your touch, swooning at how adorable you looked in your after-coitus glow. Suddenly his eyes widened in realization. “I almost forgot.”

He then reached over and took your panties in his grasp, stuffing them in the deep recesses of his pants pocket. You furrowed your brows at his actions, even though you knew good and well what the reason was.

“For safe keeping.” He grinned. He was gonna keep the pair as a reminder of tonight.

“You play too damn much!” You laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder. He laughed with you, stretching back on the bed and collecting you in his arms. Peppering your face in little kisses, he looked up at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Would you like to go again? You’re welcome to ride me if you want, you are the birthday girl after all.”

#sanji x reader #sanji x black reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #sanji x reader smut #pure nastiness #i hope this was toe-curling enough for you #.romanticism

[little-worm-grant]

How They Loved You

Moonboys x You (Reader)

730 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Who fell in love with you first? How do they behave around you? Some ramblings of how each of the alters likes to love you.

Warnings: No smut but suggestive.

Dedicated to @lunaselena - ♥

Steven thought it the moment he met you. The way you talked. The way you smiled at him. How kind you were. Didn’t show him any sign of being sick of his rambling. He was smitten. Didn’t take him long to blurt it out. He wanted to please you in every way he could think of. He learned fast. Intuitive towards you. Empathetic to your needs. He listened. Searched for ways to gently push buttons he never knew existed before you.

Simply having you existing gave him all the motivation he needed to try and make you happy. You let him explore and find his confidence. In turn, he’d find ways to surprise you. Always with that dopey grin on his face and that eagerness like you wouldn’t believe.

He’d be the one that’d spend a whole movie massaging your back. Cuddling or staring at you that little bit longer or until he couldn’t any more. He’s easily flustered and still bashful at times. Eyes quickly cast away as you strip the last of your clothing. His gaze would always return.

Once he was comfortable in your space? He’d be sneaking up to try and surprise you. Playful in his kisses and bites against you. Knowing exactly what he was doing but feigning innocence. More giggly in his flirting and teasing. Checking in when he can to make sure everything he’s doing and you’re doing is okay. He’d worship the ground you stood on if he could.

Sure, he liked you for a while, but it took Marc getting to know you before it came down hot and heavy. Suddenly there was no air to breathe unless it was yours. You were his thoughts day and night. He needed all his time with you. Felt he was missing out anytime the others were with you instead of him.

Years would pass and he’d still be the same way. Utterly devoted. Not loud in his affection or words like the others sometimes were, but he made sure you knew he loved you. Gentle in all the right ways. Rough in the ways you both needed. He’d be the one doing the most to make sure you were cared for. Feed you. Drag you into baths and showers with him. Pull you into his arms to nap with him.

Marc loves you and only you. You’re more important to him than himself. He’d be the kind to burn the world down just to keep you safe. He’d kill for you. He’d be the most unstable if you left. A kind of obsessiveness he knows can’t be healthy but can’t help himself.

Took the longest time for him to express his feelings. Even if he felt it, he never expected it to be reciprocated. Marc’s good at putting on a show of being stoic and decisive. Deep down he still felt undesirable, like he wasn’t worth you. How lucky he was to have such a person to orbit around. You were his sun. His planet. And all the stars around him.

Took him the longest to come around to the idea of loving you. Told yourself it was because he wasn’t out much and when he was he’d tried to avoid you and the others. Too used to his own bubble. Worried you’d hurt him if you got the chance. By being in constant proximity to the others, you caught glimpses of him. And in those glimpses, you seemed to like what you saw.

Jake’s moment of falling in love wasn’t hard and fast like Steven’s, or hot and heavy like Marc’s. It was an “awww fuck. Shit.” Kind of moment. Him standing there rubbing his gloved hand over his face because he realizes he really does care about this spicy little dumbass. You drive him crazy and he couldn’t understand until now why he wants you to keep doing that.

He wants to excite you. Take you out to see and do things you’ve probably never seen or done before. Enjoys the company in those long drives he loves to take. You catch him off guard with being okay he’s more his own person. He likes to be around and indispensable to others. Likes that you like seeing him like that. Marc’s bold, but Jake can be bolder. He’s possibly a little more on the competitive side. Isn’t one to back down.

#steven grant #marc spector #jake lockey #moon knight #oscar isaac #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #open rp #open starter #marcs pov #jakes pov #stevens pov #moon boys

[yaksha-lover]

There was a time in which Malleus had come to loathe his own name. Whether said in apprehension or in praise, it always sounded wrong when others spoke it. As they uttered the awful sound, they seemed to barely refrain from making a face, as though the words tasted of ash in their mouths.

It was difficult not to take such things personally. To watch them spread when he came, whispers of fear on their tongues, as though he were pestilence itself.

Could you not sense the danger, as they did?

A month ago, he may have thought you were the only one who saw his gentle nature. The one who saw the ‘true’ him.

Not the awful creature, but your friend.

Things have a way of changing, he supposes. How fast a breeze can blow away any sense of familiarity, stripping the air of comfort and leaving only a lingering melancholy.

You used to call him Tsunotaro. It was almost hopeful, if only for a moment; if he was not Malleus Draconia, then he could be anything and everything he wished. The sweetness with which you called him was completely unintentional on your part, yet it did not stop his disobedient heart from skipping a beat.

And yet, he knew it would all come tumbling to an ungraceful end. This was the way of things; once you discovered his true designation, there would be no more chances for him to pretend that he was not who he was, whatever that meant.

Malleus never knew which part of him kept the others away. Was it his name? His appearance? His status? Or maybe, he’d think (late at night when the moon was the only one else awake), he was everything that was wrong with him. Maybe it wasn’t being a powerful prince, maybe there was something inside of him, a poison rooted deep that everyone could see.

A month ago, he would’ve dismissed the thought. Now, as he stands outside the gates of Ramshackle, he is not so sure.

You’d said his name once, before everything. As nice as it had been to finally have a friend to nickname him, hearing you say his true name was something different.

When others spoke it, they grimaced. When you spoke it, you beamed. As though he was something worth beaming about, not something twisted to avoid at all costs.

They were the same words, the same vowels and consonants, but coming from you, his name transformed from something shameful, something he dreaded, into something…wonderful. He hoped you would say it for him again, maybe speak his name all day for him to listen. He couldn’t get enough.

You say his name again now, but it’s different. There’s a weight to your voice, a strain which was never there before. Things have changed, and it’s his own fault.

All he ever wanted was to make things right - to let everyone be happy. Instead, he’s only proven the whispers right.

He stares into your fearful eyes, his own reflection gazing back.

He doesn’t see your friend anymore. He sees the monster they all call him.

-

Post-overblot malleyuu angst to hurt the soul <3

#inspired by ‘first time’ by hozier <33 #twst x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleyuu #malleus draconia #twst #twisted wonderland #k.concepts

[muzanswaifu]

Rengoku x Maid!Fem!Reader

18+

A/n: “My request is a fluff/smut Kyojuro x reader. The reader is a housekeeper for the Rengoku estate, she and Kyojuro have a secret relationship.”

Warnings: Smut, fluff, yandere themes, obsession, panty stealing, masturbation, cunnilingus, blowjobs, vaginal penetration, unsafe sex, creampies, secret relationship, sugar daddy kyo

Your relationship starts off so innocent

Master Rengoku is hardly around regardless, so not much happens initially anyway

You do as your told, clean the bedrooms, dust the doors, sweep the floor boards, life is simple in that you sleep, eat, and work in roughly the same schedule everyday

Your closeness with each other develops slowly, your first official meeting being the master calling for assistance in a nearby room as he’d spilt some cleaning solution, you’d apologized profusely, taking full blame for leaving the bottle out in the open, mentally hitting yourself for being so forgetful

He promptly tells your not to not to worry so much, it was his fault for being so clumsy, as a hashira he should know better

You go to bed that night feeling a bit embarrassed about the encounter and about being so damn awkward, you’d always thought he was kinda cute and handsome, despite only seeing him face to face for a total of 10 seconds

The next day you’re surprised to be called out to the garden, Rengoku wants to eat with you, although you oblige with some persuasion, you remind him of his fathers strict rules about the help slacking off, he tells you to relax, he’ll take full responsibility

When you ask why he wants you to eat with him, he tells you it because of what happened yesterday, he didn’t like how tense you were whike talking to him, wanted to reassure you that he in fact does not bite

Your nervously accept his “apology” and promise to not “be a stranger”

It only grows from there, the man insisting to accompany you everywhere you go when he visits, helping you with tasks that he’s humorously not very good at being from noble upbringing, its nice you’ll admit, but you’re horribly afraid of getting in trouble with his father

You’re especially panicked when you catch him in your room late, a scream nearly tearing out of you before you stop yourself, no need to draw more attention to this damning sight

He quickly apologizes, somewhat stuttering over himself as he excused his intrusion up to the need to find you, when you ask what he needs, he falls silent, eventually muttering out that he forgot and exits the room

Your confusion outweighs your frustration, only compounded in the following weeks of lingering touching and longing stares until it all leads up to the night your catch him touching himself in his room with a pair of your panties pressed to his face

You fall into a trance watching him through the creaked open door, your panties pressed deep against his nose while his hand works so fast that you can hardly see the entirety of his cock, only the blurry image of it, the sight has your thighs pressing together

When he finishes with a long groan, you break from your spell and attempt to step away until he calls with laughter from within the room that you can come in now

You hesistantly enter the room, eyes downcast as you realize he’s already gotten up and standing nude and proud before you

Its beyond embarrassing to be in the presence of the master's bare body but you try to grit through it as he explains to you his excitement of you finally coming to his side of the estate at this hour and that he was beginning to lose hope, you bit your tongue to stop yourself from admitting it was to use his fancy restroom he’d given you permission you to use a while ago, miraculously you didn’t even have to go anymore

When you do work up the nerve to ask him why he had your underwear he laughs delighted and admits they’ve been a great help to him at night to relieve stress, speaking of which...

You don't deny him when he asks you to lie with him, nor do you stop him from stripping you of your night clothes and setting you down onto his bed, one far more comfortable than your own you might add

Its hard to count how many ways you let him defile you that night, letting him shove his tongue into your mouth, kiss all over your body, bury his head between your legs, pierce his cock your guts, empty his sperm inside of you

you want to feel strong regret afterwards, anything to get punishment for what you’ve done, yet your feel none of it, instead overcome with the pure, unadulterated need for more, more of his company, his smile, his body, his mouth, his fingers, his tongue, his big, beautiful cock

Hell you wish it was harder to sneak around to get some alone time, but the effort proves to be rather unnecessary as the maids avoid his side of the estate like the plague and its not like his father’s nosing around looking for anything suspicious, though there were a few times when senjuro had nearly stumbled into you about to do the deed

When he does have to leave for missions, he puts into order two rules, you are to give him at least 5 pairs of panties, used, and you mustn’t touch yourself, at all, he wants you completely desperate for when he returns, as desperate as he will be for you

When he does return from those long, tiring missions, he expects you to be ready for him, on his bed naked and spread for him to go at you for hours

Rengoku doesn’t have the stamina of a normal man, his own ability outweighing theirs in the thousands as he’s able to go round after round with a sinfully short break time

It all gets to a point where you’re hardly even working anymore, only dancing room to room with him so he can take his pick of conversing with you, eating with you, playing games with you, or fucking you, you can even tell based on his posture which option he’s looking for

While it can be at times overwhelming, you dont at all mind the sex as kyojuro is a most giving lover, taking care of your needs first and foremost before he even thinks about pleasing himself , “your pleasure is my reward” is what he always says

But there are times when you force him to allow you to take control, pushing him back on the bed, telling him to keep his hands to himself as you descend on his erection, kissing his veined flesh all over with sloppy, wet kisses before glucking at his cock as best you can

The one thing you don’t like about this whole arrangement (other than the stressful secrecy) is the payment, the man insisted he pay you for your troubles, “triple what my father pays you” he said, you’re sure he doesn’t mean to, but his money makes you feel bad, like your some gold digging whore girl who extorts money from her sugar daddy, so you save all the money that he gives you, every cent, so that if things ever go south, you can give it all back to him

Because despite how…. sexually based your relationship is, you really do care for him

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #kny #kny smut #rengoku #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x female reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojurou rengoku #rengoku kny #rengoku kyojurou #kyojuro smut #kyojuro #kny kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kyojurou #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kimetsu rengoku #yandere rengoku #smut

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part VIII

Hey! Sorry for the wait on this one, it’s a big one and took me longer than I anticipated! I haven’t had the chance to properly proofread so sorry for any mistakes! Hope you enjoy all the same 💕

Summary: Forced to go on the road with her father, Reader gets a rude awakening that starts to play on her mind. But Azriel’s not willing to let go so easily.

Click here to be added to the Bluebird taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: Pretty gruesome descriptions of violence and injury. Masturbation. Nsfw, 18+, minors dni!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The curtains were drawn.

To superior fae sight, nothing lay behind them besides darkness. Not even the flickering of a candle.

Azriel waited. And waited, and waited. His eyes did not once stray from the window, and hope burned fierce in him that those curtains would suddenly part, that a beautiful human face would appear that made his heart race and his skin feel too taut on his bones.

The fabric didn’t even twitch.

He knew, after a couple of hours, that he would not be seeing his Bluebird tonight. He tried not to feel too disappointed as he flew back towards the wall, the comfort of the fae realm. Such was the nature of their…relationship. It was clandestine and risky, and sometimes things would come up. Sometimes, one or both of them would be unavailable.

But as he stripped off his leathers and fell into his huge bed, he couldn’t tear his thoughts from her. Thoughts of where she was, what she was doing, what had rendered her unavailable to meet — whether she was safe.

Too many thoughts like that would do him no good. Would only worsen this…this alien sensation, of needing her with him all the time. Needing to have her in sight. Needing to have her at all.

He could only pray to the Mother that the next week pedalled on fast.

That he’d see his Bluebird soon.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It had been the most uncomfortable day of your life.

A monotonous day on horseback, one landscape blurring into another. The village you were travelling to seemed like worlds away — and the journey was only made worse by the sticky summer heat, and the fact that you rode with Devin, slotted between the tight press of his muscled thighs.

Still, you were unflinching in your resolve that while you may not have been able to wriggle out of sharing a horse with him, you weren’t going to talk to him, no matter how much he tried to ply you with conversation.

It was his fault you had to come on this trip in the first damn place.

You tried your hardest to while away the time by sinking into your thoughts. It seemed that with each hour that passed, those thoughts became more vibrant, more longing. Thoughts of you, Azriel, a wildflower meadow. The ability to just…be in each other’s arms.

The ability to kiss him. Touch him.

Those thoughts didn’t help at all. It was an effort to keep them at bay, lest you make the ride even more uncomfortable.

But eventually — thankfully — you and your father’s group had arrived in the target village, just as the sun had been setting. News of your father’s cause had spread wide enough that it seemed his presence was expected. And very much welcomed.

You’d been ushered into the village tavern and supplied with more food and drinks than any of you needed. The feast kept you occupied while your father was absent awhile, apparently visiting a few villagers he was familiar with. And when he’d returned, it was there, that evening, nestled at the very back of the old, crumbling building, that you’d watched your his passionate presentation.

You’d heard the words spoken numerous times, of course. To his friends, and to anyone at the Bluebird Inn who would listen. But this was more than just a speech. This was an entire damn performance.

And it surprised you, how uncomfortable it made you to watch.

For all your father was quiet, brooding, sometimes soft-spoken, he commanded the tavern with a voice louder than you’d ever heard come out of him. His cheeks had grown ruddier as his own words riled him up. Spittle accompanied the angered, venomous words that left his mouth.

And it was all you could do to watch, your dinner feeling leaden in your stomach as you listened to the words — listened to him reel off a list of people he, personally, had met, who had suffered at the hands of the fae. As he told the story of your mother’s brutal death, and the details formed a lump in your throat, never lessening in impact. As he presented his ideas, his plans, in a way that was so refined, so expert, that it almost had you considering that they were the best course of action.

But you knew Azriel. You knew Azriel. These faeries that your father raged about were not his brethren. Azriel himself would abhor their actions.

You repeated that to yourself in your head, like a chant. Azriel was not like them. Azriel was good. Azriel cared for you.

Two whole hours, you had to sit there and listen to your father talk about frightening creatures who stole babies from their bassinets, who brutalised young girls, who tore families apart. Two whole hours, and your muscles were stiff and aching. Your head throbbing. Your body and mind desperate for the oblivion of sleep. A respite away from the pang in your gut.

Azriel was not like them. Azriel was good. Azriel cared for you.

The sight of your father and his men traipsing around the room with rolls of parchment and gathering signatures was a relief — only because you knew this would soon be over.

You sighed softly to yourself, slumping back in your chair and absentmindedly rubbing a hand over your stomach. As though it would somehow ease the complicated feelings that twisted it so violently.

“Impactful.” The chair beside you was pulled out, and Devin lowered himself into it. “Don’t you think?”

You gave the slightest dip of your chin. Couldn’t deny that your father had a way with words.

Devin pursed his lips, his eyes skating over you. “We have a long ride home, Y/N. Are you going to ignore me the whole way back, too?”

“Yes,” you hissed. “Because you had no right to talk to my father on my behalf.”

He folded his arms, appearing unflinching and unbothered by what he’d done. You may have thought he was in the wrong, but he certainly didn’t.

“I did so out of concern for you,” he replied. “Because what you said about the fae was wrong. None of them are good. The sooner you see that, the better.”

You bit inside of your cheek, simply to prevent yourself from arguing. But gods, you wanted to contest the statement. You wished you could tell him that you had cold, hard, beautiful evidence that he was wrong.

But doing so would only make things worse for you.

So you merely folded your own arms, and focused your gaze on the men weaving in and out of tables, gathering signatures, clapping supporters on the back and parting with well wishes. You stared and stared until the sight of them blurred.

And then Devin said, “You haven’t been yourself recently.”

You whipped your head around to look at him — gape at him. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“I know you were acting shifty as fuck the night I came to check on you during the Summer Festival. You couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. I’d be forgiven for thinking you had someone there with you.”

“Who would I possibly have at my house?” you narrowed your eyes. “I’m not allowed to make friends, to form connections.”

His gaze softened. “I’m your friend.”

It wasn’t that long ago that you’d fantasised about him being more than that. He’d seemed so incredible, so gallant — a young man who could sweep you off your feet, and protect you while he guarded an entire village. You’d wondered if there was ever any likelihood of him being drawn to you, instead of one of the many other beautiful girls within proximity. You’d wanted to impress him.

Now, you just wanted him out of your fucking sight before you said something that would land you in more shit.

“You—”

The tavern’s front door flung open, hard enough to slam against the wall, abruptly severing your sentence.

All fell still and silent as every face looked up to take in the man who entered. Hair ripped from the knot at the back of his neck, and he was drenched in sweat, clothes rumpled and—

And saturated with blood.

There was a beat, and then everyone who crowded the small space appeared to collectively clock what they were seeing. A wave of gasps rippled through the room like a breeze.

“I—” the man’s eyes immediately landed on your father, as though it were him he searched for. “I tried to do something, but I was too late. I couldn’t—”

“What has happened?” Your father strode forward.

“I was too late,” he repeated. “I…I think you need to see this.”

Just like that, every member of your group was readying themselves to leave — to throw themselves straight into the unknown. Devin, too, rose.

But your father was wrenching round to face them, shaking his head. “I’ll take only a couple of you with me. The rest of you should stay here until I send word,” he angled himself towards your table. “Devin, Y/N — you’ll join me.”

“Me?” Your eyes widened. Granted, you didn’t know what, exactly, you’d be facing, but one look at the blood-drenched man at the entrance told you it was bad. You didn’t know nearly enough about fighting, or defending, or healing—

“Yes.” Your father’s tone brooked no room for argument. “You.”

There was no chance to protest as you were yanked out of your seat by Devin and pulled along with him while your father headed out of the door. Your heart raced in your chest as Devin helped you up onto his horse, and you were lurched into action.

All you could think was that you wished — so badly wished — to be back in the safety of the Bluebird Inn. And Azriel’s arms.

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You didn’t travel far. A few dirty, dusty roads brought you straight to a house that was mostly unassuming, no different to the houses in your village.

But the similarities stopped at the first scream that ripped through the night and had you violently flinching, had the horses panicking.

Devin dismounted with ease and promptly lifted you off, setting you on your feet at the exact same moment another scream sounded, thinning out into a strangled sob.

“Come.” Your father beckoned to you as Devin made quick work of tying the horses up.

But you couldn’t get your feet to move. You stayed firmly rooted to the spot as you shook your head. “I can’t go in there.”

“You can and you will,” he beckoned again. “Don’t let me down.”

With him in front of you and Devin now at your back, you felt you had no choice but to follow. The man that had burst into the tavern held the front door open, increasing the volume of what now seemed to be wailing sobs.

“I’ve heard of your cause,” he said quietly as your father stepped in first. “Which is why I think you should see this. So you can report back firsthand to the Queens.”

The entryway was just light enough to catch the incline of your father’s head. He said nothing as you were led through—

You stopped dead in the doorway of what seemed to be a dining room. So abruptly that Devin’s front collided with your back.

“Her name is — was — Dahlia.” The man inched towards the table, balling his fists at his sides. “She was only fourteen years old.”

“What happened?” Those two little words came from you — and you didn’t even realise it.

Because lying motionless on the table was the body of a young girl — from what you could make out beneath the injuries that covered her skin, anyway.

Her pallor was such a deathly white that you knew she was long gone. Her clothes were dirty, ripped…by what looked like claws. Chunks of flesh had been gouged out, her throat cut—

Your ears were ringing too loudly for you to think. But as your heart beat at a gallop, another cry rent the air, stealing your attention to the corner of the room.

“This is Marin,” the man breathed, moving closer to the woman who sat curled up and distraught in the corner. “Dahlia’s mother. She saw the attack with her own eyes.”

“Oh, gods,” you whispered. Devin’s hand landed on your shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

Your father took slow, careful footsteps towards the grieving mother. And the softness with which he knelt before her, laying a tentative hand atop of hers…it had your eyes stinging.

“My name is Marschal,” he introduced himself quietly. “I’m so sorry for what those monsters have taken from you. Your beautiful daughter is safe in the Beyond now. The fae can hurt her no more.”

Another soft cry shuddered out of Marin. But she nodded her head and answered, her voice watery, “I know who you are. What…what you do.”

“Then you’ll know why I’ve been brought here. What happened…it’s something I believe our queens should know about,” he paused. “If you’re able, I’d like to know exactly what it was you witnessed. As much as you can manage, of course.”

The request almost made you flinch. It seemed callous, somehow, when her child’s body was still right there on the table and hadn’t yet been sent back to the earth. But after a beat of Marin staring at your father through her tear-filled eyes, she offered the slightest dip of her chin.

“I…” Her voice wobbled. “I’ll try.”

“Devin,” your father murmured over his shoulder. “Fetch her a drink to steady her nerves.”

You were jostled ever so slightly forward as Devin slipped past you — too close to Dahlia’s poor, broken body than you could handle. You turned away, your feet numbly carrying you to Marin’s side. You took her hand into your own, and she didn’t object to the comfort.

In fact, her voice was a little steadier as she said, “It was just me and my Dahlia.” She inhaled slowly through her nose, steeling herself. Her eyes fluttered shut for the briefest second before they opened again. “We were returning home from visiting my sister in another village. It was such a nice night that we decided not to spend coin on transport. The walk was a bit lengthy, but we’d made it before. We knew which way to go.”

The story was momentarily interrupted by Devin re-entering the room and handing a glass of amber liquid to Marin. Her free hand trembled as she took it and lifted it to her lips. Beads of dark liquid coloured her pale lips as she swallowed it down and continued.

“Only, Dahlia insisted on cutting through a forest to look at some plants,” she whispered. “She’s into botany, you see — she was into botany.” A fresh wave of shuddering sobs threatened to overpower her, but somehow, she found the strength to tamp down on them. “So we went into the forest, but Dahlia, she…she had a habit of wandering off, and I got separated from her. It wasn’t for long. But when I found her again, she was with a man.”

Your father repeatedly softly, “A man?”

“I knew at once that it was a faerie. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. And Dahlia thought so, too. He was talking to her, and she had this glazed look in her eyes like she was somewhere else. He offered her his hand, and she took it. I knew in my bones that he was going to take her away from me, so I stepped forward, announced myself. I told Dahlia to come, that we were going home. The man answered for her in a voice like music.”

“What did he say?” you rasped.

“He said — he said that Dahlia would make a pretty wife for a faerie. That faerie men liked human brides. He said that she was coming back with him, across the wall. He asked her if she wanted to do that, and she said yes. I think he had her under some sort of spell. I could tell that it wasn’t my Dahlia talking. And I panicked. I stepped forward to grab her out of his arms, and he attacked. Immediately. It was all so quick, I couldn’t register what he was doing. But then he was disappearing before my eyes, and Dahlia was crumpling to the floor, and I knew…I could see she was gone.”

A keening, horrendous wail left her, and she was curling herself up so tightly — like she was trying to hold herself together. It was all you could do to grip onto her hand as she rocked back and forth and cried over and over and over, my Dahlia, my Dahlia, my Dahlia.

You waited for your father to say something else — to come up with an answer as to what might ease her suffering, if anything at all could.

But it was Devin who lowered himself to one knee before her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his face gentle, open.

“Madam, the last thing I wish to do is cause you any more distress at such an awful time.” He spoke in the calm, sure way that all village guards did. “But I am a guard of the village from which my companions and I hail. Our girls have been suffering attacks at the hands of the fae, also. If, perhaps, you could describe the faerie you saw…who hurt your child…”

“He was beautiful, as I said,” Marin snivelled. “So beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him. Dark hair and golden-brown skin. Eyes that seemed to glow. That beauty made him easy for Dahlia to trust. He seemed kind. His voice was just as stunning as he was.”

“Their beauty,” your father supplied sympathetically, “is a calculated part of their thrall. Do not blame yourself nor your daughter for being allured by it. The fae know what they are doing.”

You did not hear whether the reassurance brought Marin any comfort. You didn’t catch what Devin then said to her, despite you looking right at him, watching his lips move.

Your mind was roaring, ears screaming. You felt…panic.

Their beauty is a calculated part of their thrall.

The fae know what they are doing.

So beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him.

Dark hair and golden-brown skin. Eyes that seemed to glow. He seemed kind. His voice was just as stunning as he was.

Faerie men like human brides.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

Was it so easy to be lured by the mere beauty of the fae?

Was that what Azriel had done to you?

Dahlia’s attacker had seemed nice to her…just as Azriel seemed nice to you.

And Dahlia was now lying lifeless and brutalised just inches away. Allured by a beautiful faerie. Like the other village girls. Like your mother. Like you—

You launched up, nausea turning your stomach. This was too much. If all fae were the same…if all of them were capable of this…

“What is it?” Devin asked. Your father didn’t speak; merely stared at you with an indiscernible expression.

“I need some fresh air, I’m sorry.” Feeling as though you were gasping for breath, you pushed through them, stumbled clumsily past Dahlia’s body and out of the room before they could stop you. You focused on forcing your legs forward, finding your way out of the house. Balmy summer air coaxed you towards it and had you practically falling out of the door.

What had you been thinking, having regular, secret meetings with a faerie who could tear you apart with his bare hands? Inviting him into your village, your home? Allowing yourself to think that he was somehow different? Finding ways to justify your involvement with him?

Azriel may not have been responsible for the attacks himself, but his kind were. You didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he was capable of. For all you were aware, your warming to him had been carefully manipulated by him, by magic. For all you were aware, he could have an extensive list of human girls that he’d softened and lured. He could be using you for something.

You didn’t want to think about what. Didn’t want to know.

What you did know was that you couldn’t see him anymore. Dahlia was some sort of sign that your dealings with the fae had to stop. What you had with Azriel needed to stop—

“It hits a little close to home, doesn’t it?” Your father’s soft voice reached you from the doorway. Amidst your reeling thoughts, you hadn’t heard him follow you out.

You sucked in a huge gulp of fresh air and pivoted to face him. “It does,” you agreed. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you by running out of there.”

He shook his head, took a step closer. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I felt it was necessary for you to see just what a single faerie was capable of. That doesn’t mean I expect you to be unfeeling and unaffected. That sight in there is…it’s terrifying. And gods, if it were you lying on that table—” he cut himself off, swallowing hard. It was a rare thing for him to share such sentiments with you. That was as close as he’d allow himself to get.

So you nodded, letting him know that you got it. He was terrified of you meeting the same fate that poor Dahlia had.

The moment hung between you, thick as the sticky night air. And then you were taking the plunge and asking the question that lived somewhere deep and heavy inside you, trying to claw its way out.

“Was it like that when Mama was attacked?” you studied your father, waiting for him to flinch, grimace, something. “When she was attacked by a faerie, did she…did she look much like Dahlia does?”

A gruesome question, and perhaps an unfair one.

But for the first time in your life, you needed to know — the gory details. How bad it had been.

Your father pursed his lips, staring back at you. For a moment, you thought he might not answer.

But then he shook his head. Shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked…vulnerable.

“No,” he answered, his voice laced with something you couldn’t grasp. “No. There was far less left of your mother after her attack. Nothing of the woman I had loved.”

Before you could answer, he turned and trudged back inside.

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Three weeks in a row.

Three weeks in a damn row, the curtains had remained shut at Y/N’s bedroom window.

Azriel thought his need to see her was starting to eat him alive.

But gods, he missed her. He missed her curiosity, that she did not seem to fear him. Missed that he could lose hours talking to her about everything and nothing. Missed her scent, the taste and feel of her lips—

He heaved a sigh, sprawling back in his bed and running a hand over the panes of his bare stomach. His blood thudded and thrummed in his veins. Burned too hot.

He knew, at least, that she was well, only from the rare glances he caught of her from the sky above the village. Seeing her and not being able to swoop down and speak to her was a whole torture of its own. But if the curtains were closed, that meant it wasn’t safe. The last thing he wanted was to get her into trouble.

Still, that didn’t stop his bones from feeling too hot with need, his heart too heavy—

Another quiet sight escaped him, the pads of his fingers stroking absentmindedly over his abdomen. It felt entirely out his control that his thoughts quickly ventured down the same avenue they’d been walking for three weeks, now. Yet again recalling that conversation he and Y/N had had when he’d last been with her. The broadened confidence that had lain within her actions.

She’d asked him about lovers. She’d kissed him deeply, yearningly, and had he not stopped her, she would have taken it further. He knew she would have — knew it from the way her scent had changed.

Gods, that scent. He was sure it had followed him everywhere these past weeks. It would drive him mad yet. The scent of fresh summer air and sweet, ripe apples. It was perfect, and mouthwatering, and Cauldron boil him, Azriel wanted more. A touch. A taste—

A low noise rumbled in his chest as his cock instantly hardened. This was why it was best to keep his mind occupied. Because as time went on, so too did his growing, strengthening, snowballing attraction for the human woman.

She was likely unaware of what affect she truly had on him.

With only the covers draped over his naked body, the light brush of the fabric against his hardened length was too much. He kicked them away, glancing down at his body’s reaction to the mere thought of Y/N. Nothing to do with him not having had sex for a while now.

All to do with the fact that he wanted Y/N. Badly.

He wrapped a hand around his cock, releasing a hushed moan at the touch. And as his thumb mopped up the precum at the head, and he began to pump slowly, languidly, he closed his eyes and imagined it was her hand that touched him.

That mental image threw the unhurried pace straight out of the window. Fantasies swarmed him as he writhed on the mattress and bit down on his husky, growling moans. Thoughts of Y/N stroking and squeezing and licking him, of her guiding him through his pleasure with filthy words and promises. Watching his length disappear between those perfect, full lips—

A shout shuddered out of him that he was too slow to suppress, his chest heaving as he emptied his cock onto his stomach. The pleasure was too much. He couldn’t think around it, couldn’t see anything but the stars that burst in his vision.

He didn’t know when he’d last cum so fast, so hard.

But somehow, he did know that no other woman, female, whatever, would ever be enough again. Only Y/N. He wanted Y/N.

He needed to find a way to see her.

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Resolving to have nothing more to do with Azriel did not, unfortunately, banish thoughts of him. Nor did it banish the feeling of missing him, missing what you’d grown comfortable with.

It was hard to go from looking forward to weekly rendezvous to just…nothing. No social interaction, besides what you got from behind the bar of the inn. No personal connections.

It was for the best, you told yourself. In the three weeks since you’d been on the road with your father and his men, those images of Dahlia’s broken body had not left your mind. They haunted you as thoroughly as the sounds of Marin’s cries and wails. As thoroughly as those words she’d spoken.

The most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

Azriel was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. And while he may not have been responsible for Dahlia’s attack, or the attacks on the girls in your village…that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable.

The fae were a violent people. There was no getting around that. And you…you could not take that risk. No matter how much your heart yearned to do so, just to feel the touch of Azriel’s hands and hear the smooth lilt of his voice.

He was fae. You were human. It could never work.

So you kept your curtains closed, and you kept yourself busy. You knew Azriel must have wondered what was going on, why you’d been unavailable three weeks in a row. Soon enough, you told yourself, he was bound to get bored and seek connection with somebody else, and your brief brush with the fae would become a bizarre, distant memory.

You hoped.

Perhaps if you chanted it to yourself enough, it would come true.

But gods, you’d become so comfortable with him. Had found what felt like a real, genuine bond with somebody, like nothing you’d been able to experience before. It was no easy thing to return to loneliness, just you and the inn and your piano. Everything was suddenly too dull, too quiet.

At least your father hadn’t asked you to come on the road with him again.

His trips were getting longer, the further he ventured. Two days had stretched to four. You were more alone than ever.

Tonight, when the last of your customers had filed through the door, you were not in the mood to play piano, nor to read a book. Your frame of mind was a tricky one. You felt…restless and misplaced. Tired in your bones and yet wide awake and longing.

You tossed and you turned, kicking your sheets, writhing against your mattress until you were sticky with sweat. You wanted to pull back the curtains and wrench open the window, but…not at this hour. Not while Azriel might still be circling above, searching to see if you were available.

So in the dark, you let the hours tick by, waited for sleep to find you or…some semblance of peace. You listened to each chime of the village’s clock tower, making you aware of every hour you’d lain awake; one o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock. No passing time made a difference. Restlessness still commanded your body until finally, you’d had enough.

It was nearing four o’clock by the time you threw your sheets off you and stormed out of your bed, exasperated and fed up — by your constant thoughts that would not leave you alone, and how they seemed to control everything. What were you to do without the few hours of oblivion that sleep afforded you?

Was even this some power of the fae…to command your mind and drive you mad with sleeplessness and restlessness until you were losing yourself entirely, becoming an empty shell who lived only to harbour feelings for an ethereal being who saw you as some sort of toy? Was your longing even real, or just the product of magic?

You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

Though still very much night, the darkness had lifted just slightly over the village with another summer morning rapidly approaching. Birds were beginning to wake and sing their songs. It wouldn’t be too long before the milkman ventured through the village with his wagon, leaving bottles at the residents’ doors.

If Azriel had tried to visit, he certainly wouldn’t be around any longer — not with the world waking up.

So you resigned yourself to the fact that you wouldn’t be sleeping. You threw a robe over your nightgown and trudged down the stairs, irritated and ill at ease. You headed straight for the back door, to your small yard that was just as grey and dull as everything else. At least the air would be fresh. Somewhat.

Though tinged with the smells of the countryside, it was nice to feel it wash over you. Cool, in the absence of the sun, and yet not cold. You slumped down onto the wooden bench against the wall and rested your head back, closing your eyes.

How, you wondered, had you been foolish enough to land yourself in such a predicament? How had you gone from being some human, village nobody, to brushing arms with the very beings you’d been raised to despise? It had to be magic that had weaved its way into your mind. Perhaps Azriel hadn’t meant to bewitch you, but he had. Perhaps it was some natural facet of his kind that he had no control over, that you’d fallen victim to. You’d heard stories of the kinds of fae who were love talkers — Gancanagh — whose sole magic was to pour sweetened words into women’s ears and so thoroughly seduce them until they were nothing more than their feelings. Could that be what Azriel was? Could he have—

A thud ripped you from your thoughts so abruptly that you jolted, your eyes flying open.

Just in time to see Azriel jump down from the opposite wall, feet landing smoothly on the cracked concrete ground of the yard.

You stared at him, knocked speechless, for a moment, by the mere sight of him. You couldn’t deny that you’d missed gazing upon his brilliance. The dark leathers and flawless appearance. The shadows.

But you quickly yanked yourself out of it, shaking your head. You would not be bewitched or love-talked or…whatever. Not again.

“It’s so good to see you,” Azriel breathed, cleaving the silence.

But you were up on your feet, still shaking your head, suddenly cold all over. “You can’t be here.”

“I checked the village before I came down,” he stepped closer. “All is fine—”

“No,” you interrupted. “You need to leave.”

He paused, seeming to take his time studying you. His brow furrowed at your guardedness, the way you crossed your arms over your chest and eyed the distance between yourself and the door.

“I don’t understand…” he murmured, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? What’s happened?”

The backs of your legs hit the bench in your attempt to back up. “None of that matters. You just need to stay away from me. Leave, and don’t come back.”

Surprise seemed to steal him so suddenly that it gave you an opening the move. You made to cross your way back to the door, to get yourself inside. Locks were no use against his ability to winnow, but at least you could find a weapon in there, should you need it.

But Azriel was stepping closer just as fast, his warm hand closing around your elbow in a gentle yet firm touch. Gods, you’d missed that touch—

“Don’t,” you snapped, recoiling. “Do not touch me—”

“Y/N, just look at me. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Why?” Pivoting to face him didn’t ease his grip even a little. “So you can charm me into believing you’re not dangerous?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, his eyes blazing. “I never claimed not to be dangerous. But I am not a danger to you.”

A brusque, almost hysterical laugh broke from you. “Resorting to faerie riddles? How convenient—”

“Y/N—”

“Let me go.”

This time, when you yanked your arm back, his hand fell. You didn’t wait around to see his reaction as you darted through the door and slammed it shut, locking it with trembling hands.

But when you turned, he was right there in front of you, in your fucking house. You backed yourself up against the door to stop your body colliding with his.

“Get out,” you breathed. “I mean it. Get away from me.”

Slowly, he rose his hands in a placating manner. There was pleading in his tone as he carefully bit out, “I just want to talk to you. Please. Tell me what I’ve done.”

You stared at him, pressing your palms flat against the door. It hurt so, so badly that you wanted to hear him out. Wanted to wipe that crestfallen, devastated expression from his face and hold his hand and talk to him and kiss him—

No, no, no. You shook your head, shook the thoughts away. Azriel watched with wide eyes.

“I am not a danger to you,” he said again, slowly lowering his hands. “But if that’s what you’re worried about…” smooth as a damn waltz, he unsheathed a blade, sharp enough to slice through the sky itself. He gripped the hilt, holding the beautiful weapon out to you. “Take this. It is the only thing I am currently armed with, and if at any point you feel in danger, you have my permission to stab me with it. I just want to talk.”

Your gaze flicked between the blade and his face, unsure and upset. Upset, because you knew that the longer you spent in his presence, spent listening to his voice, the harder it would be to remember the driving force behind your hostility. The harder it would be to convince him to leave and never return.

But perhaps the key to that was not being hostile towards him, but rather, making him hostile towards you. That would be easier. You had never been completely honest with him — about who your father was. Maybe fessing up to the fact that you’d joined him in his campaign would be enough to anger Azriel into leaving.

You jerked your chin at the blade, squaring your shoulders. “Place it on the floor and step away.”

He didn’t hesitate. A shadow snaked out, coiling around the dagger and easing it to the floor with barely a noise. And then Azriel stepped back, and back, and back. Until he was pressed against the wall opposite you.

He didn’t move an inch as you reached for the knife and took it into your hand. The feel of it was weighty and foreign — and beautiful.

“I just want to talk to you,” Azriel said again, his voice gritty. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what…what’s changed.”

You met his eyes, squaring your shoulders as you admitted, “I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

His face showed no reaction. He didn’t even stir. Just stared back at you and spoke clearly, carefully. “Alright. Talk me through that.”

“We once discussed a band of humans who are raising a cause against the fae. Do you remember?”

“I do.”

“I never told you that it is my father who set up the cause. He is the one behind the campaigns. He is the one who takes his men village to village and spreads word of the evil deeds of the fae. He’s behind it all.”

A heavy silence filled the space between you. Azriel stared at you, his expression unreadable. This was the moment he would curse you for keeping the truth from him. The moment he would leave and never look back.

Except, all he did was nod his head once. Like you’d merely offered him a droll comment about the weather.

“Do you not understand what I’m telling you?” you pushed. “I sat up on that hill with you and discussed the matter when I knew the entire time who you were talking about. What they were doing. I deceived you. Kept it from you.”

“There are things you don’t know about me, too,” he answered quietly. “Things that I, for certain reasons, have not told you yet. I would be foolish to assume the same wouldn’t be the case for you,” he stared at you, head-on. Unflinching. “I know better than anybody, Y/N, that you cannot help who or what you come from. I won’t judge you for it, just as I’ve asked you not to judge me.”

Gods, he was so damn reasonable. So much more…worldly and mature, than the human men you knew in the village.

Then again, Azriel had centuries of life on them.

“I’m not angry that you didn’t tell me,” he studied you. “I can understand why you’d be cautious—”

“My father took me on his campaign three weeks ago. Took me on the road with him and his men.”

 It was that which seemed to really stop Azriel in his tracks. Something — the slightest thing, a tiny reaction — flared in his eyes. You weren’t sure what it was.

Good. This was good. Maybe now he would get the point, that you and he needed to stop seeing each other.

“Night after night, I sat and listened to what my father had to say. To what he knows,” your hand gripped hard at the knife’s hilt, like it was the only thing grounding you and making you able to speak. “None of it was stuff I hadn’t heard before. I even resented listening to it. I curled myself up in a corner and repeated to myself over and over that whatever was being said, you were not like that. You were not the kind of fae of which my father spoke.”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I am not. Just as I told you.”

“I found it frustrating to hear him tarnish all of your people with the same stories when you had proved to me otherwise. That some fae could be good. That I had been ignorant. And then,” a short laugh rasped out of you, “and then, as if the universe was trying to send me some sort of message, a man came looking for us and said we needed to accompany him somewhere. And we did. My father, a member of his group, and myself. We followed this man to a house in that village, and I knew it was bad from the other end of the street. I could hear the cries coming from within that house, the wailing.”

That information was met with a wall of silence — as though Azriel was biting back his words and waiting for you to finish your story before he would deign to speak. Even if the rigid set of his shoulders told you he desperately wanted to do otherwise.

“There was a girl’s body in that house.” Merely recalling the image of Dahlia had a lump rising in your throat. You silently begged your eyes not to tear up. “The body of a fourteen-year-old girl. A child. A fae male had attacked her, and her poor mother had seen the entire thing.”

Azriel swallowed. “That’s awful—”

“She told us exactly what she saw. Described the faerie to us. How he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, with dark eyes and golden skin and such a charming demeanour. How her daughter hadn’t stood a chance, because he was already weaving his way into her mind and appealing himself to her. Making her think that he was no threat. Because his beauty, his allure, was above anything else.”

“And…what are you saying?” Azriel asked bleakly. “That you think it was I who attacked that girl—?”

“No, but it was a faerie! It’s always the fucking fae!”

The words left you so angrily, so loudly, that you realised you’d been waiting for someone to yell them at. That they burned inside you, and they hurt. You felt…foolish. Betrayed.

And Azriel appeared to read all of that on your face. He swallowed again, hard, balling his fists at his sides like it took everything in his power to hold himself back and not approach you.

“I never once denied that faeries are capable of such atrocities,” he stared at you. “Not once. I simply asked you to acknowledge that there is good and bad in all people, whatever we are. It’s not as black and white as the fae just being bad.”

“And yet,” your voice was cold, “I haven’t been presented with anything to say otherwise.”

That might have been a low blow. You were guessing it was, from the way Azriel physically flinched, before schooling his features.

Because he…he was evidence of good, wasn’t he? He certainly had been, before the situation with poor Dahlia. He’d shown you that he was tender and soft, patient and kind. It had been enough for a while.

But you had more or less just said that it had never been enough at all. And that seemed to bother him more than anything else.

“You and I are worlds apart,” you added, sounding weaker. “Whatever or whoever you are…we simply have no business getting involved with one another.”

“That’s bullshit.” In a flash, Azriel was pushing off the wall. He strode forward a couple of steps, before thinking better of it and stopping in his tracks. Ferocity turned his golden skin a ruddy hue. “I don’t care what sides of the wall either of us fall on. What matters is that I feel right around you. I feel alive because of you. If we have no business getting involved, tell me why I cannot sleep for having constant thoughts about you. Tell me why you have consumed me as though you have bewitched me.”

You blinked, almost — almost — wanting to laugh. The description was one you absolutely had fitted to him. To consider that he’d come to the same conclusion about you—

“I swear to you that I have never used any sort of faerie sway to appeal myself to you,” he continued. “What we feel for one another is genuine. I keep coming back to you because I ache for you. And I don’t judge you one bit for thinking badly of my kind — especially after what you saw on your father’s trip. It’s awful, and I abhor what was done to that girl. But I beg of you, Y/N — please. Do not paint me in the same light.”

Each word pelted you like hailstones, the impact of them sending a shiver coursing down your spine. So quickly, your body wanted to falter, to fold, to go marching over to him. It took every shred of effort to stand your ground and grip onto the knife as though your life depended on it.

“I’m not trying to invalidate what you’ve seen, what you’ve experienced.” Azriel took another slight step forward. “I would never. I just…I ask you to give me one more chance to prove that there is another side to the coin. That good can exist as well as bad.”

You pointed the blade towards him, stopping him in his tracks. But you lifted your chin as you asked, “How? How would you prove that? I don’t want any faerie trickery.”

“And there would be none. I want to show you…for you to see with your own eyes…”

“…see what?”

“The good that I know. The good that I live amongst.” Pleading lay within his eyes. “Just give me one more night. One more night of your time to take you into my world. To show you more of myself. And if you still want nothing more to do with me…” Slowly, he shook his head, as though he could hardly bear the thought. “Then I will find a way to accept it, and you will never have to see me again.”

You shook — trembled — with the effort to rein yourself in. You didn’t understand this carnal…thing, deep inside you, that was drawing you to him. Like a thread in your body, connected to one in his, begging you to close the gap and go to him.

You rocked on your feet, eyeing him with none of the anger you’d felt moments before, and all of the caution at how he so often made you feel. Like you wanted to be in front of him. To touch him.

“I don’t…understand what you’re suggesting,” you said slowly.

Azriel took a single, tiny step closer. You didn’t stop him. “Let me take you across The Wall for one night. A few hours, if that’s all you’re willing to give. To my city, my home. Let me introduce you to my family. To everyone and everything that reminds me how much good exists amongst my kind, even when I sometimes doubt it myself.”

“Across The Wall—?”

“It would be entirely safe.” Another step, closing that gap between you. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. And if we get there and you don’t even want to talk to me, you don’t have to. I just…I just want you to see. You deserve to see the good.”

So many feelings warred inside you at once. Intrigue, curiosity, fear — such raging fear. Excitement. Maybe…maybe a little bit of hope.

Hope that you could still be proved wrong. Because you still wanted to be proved wrong.

You didn’t want to let Azriel go.

Swallowing hard, your eyes shuttered. What he was asking of you was huge, and that wasn’t even considering the logistics of how you would do it. “I don’t…know if I could.”

With another step, Azriel was close enough to touch. The familiar scent of him was almost enough, alone, for you to fold. The hand that held the blade lowered entirely without your willing.

“Why don’t you take the day to think about it?” Hazel eyes were a long-awaited caress against your face. “Your father is away for another night yet, isn’t he?”

Your gaze clashed with his abruptly. “How do you know that?”

Quickly, he held his hands up. “Just going by the pattern of his previous trips, that’s all. He doesn’t usually return until the weekend.”

Right. Perhaps you were being a little bit paranoid. You forced yourself to relax a little.

“Yes,” you concurred. “He’s away for another night.”

Azriel’s chin dipped. “So…how about this? You take the day to think my offer over. If you decide you want to accept and come with me, I’ll be waiting for you above. At midnight, on the dot. If you decide you don’t, and you do not want anything else to do with me…well, like I said, I’ll find a way to accept it somehow.”

You knew your resolve was already slipping, leaning more towards what felt right, rather than…that what you’d been raised to believe was right.

And it wasn’t as though it was an unreasonable offer. You believed that Azriel could keep you safe either side of The Wall. Your wellbeing wasn’t what concerned you in the slightest.

You supposed that it was that if you were to go along with this…there would likely be no turning back. You’d so far merely dipped your toe into the world of the fae.

Crossing The Wall would be like submerging yourself in it.

“Take the day to think about it,” Azriel said again, studying you closely. “All I ask is that you do think about it…properly. Don’t just…don’t just write me off. Please, Y/N. I couldn’t bear it.”

Something in his voice smothered that last shred of doubt that tried to hold you back. Your own voice was quiet as you replied, “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

In front of you, his shoulders seemed to slump with something like relief. Pleading still lay within his eyes. You weren’t sure, in that moment, if you could handle staring back at it.

So you instead held the knife out to him, ripping your gaze away. “You can have this back.”

“Don’t want to stab me?” he said, and your lips threatened to quirk up. You forced the smile away as he took the weapon back and sheathed it.

“I’ve yet to decide. I’ll spend the day contemplating that, too.”

So easy, to fall back into the natural rapport you had with him. Azriel didn’t bother to bite down on his smile.

But the smile then faltered, and worry clouded his eyes. “I really do hope you’ll give me another chance.”

“Why?” you blurted. “Why me?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. And then he stepped away from you. Something in his stance told you he was readying himself to disappear.

“I’ll tell you why, if you come across the wall with me,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “I want to be transparent with you. But I have to protect my heart, too.”

“You—”

“Just think on it,” he spoke softer, gentler. “And get some sleep, Y/N.”

Before you could respond, a breeze rippled through the room, tinged with the smells of winter.

And just like that, you were alone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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#azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar series #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger #reader insert #azriel fic #acourtofwhatthefuck #bluebird #spymaster

[courtingchaos]

Was having thoughts earlier about surprising Eddie naked in his room with just his guitar covering you (a la Jenny in Forest Gump)

No but this could be so cute or super dirty but I’m in a big ol soft mood. (Also another ask I missed apparently! God damn!)

Fast and dirty (aka I didn’t read this back!)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Arranging yourself just so, trying to figure out how to drape yourself around it without flashing him a nipple since it’s such an angular body. He’s going to go crazy for it regardless but you have a vision in your mind for it and you want it just right.

You even tidied up his room for him, and that’s not something you’ve ever done, you just needed flat surfaces for the little glass votive candles you bought at the dollar store. Romance, but sexy romance. He’s been working so hard, you’re Eddie, ever since Wayne got him a job at the plant. He’s working seconds while his Uncle works thirds but it’s just as long and he deserves a little surprise.

You get to the trailer just as Wayne is leaving and he deftly avoids looking at your handful of plastic bags or the overnight one slung on your shoulder. It’s none of his business what happens when he’s out of the house between you two, just gives you smile while he holds the door open for you. Tells you to stay out of trouble. Tells you to not light the curtains on fire.

An hour, tops, before Eddie stomps into the trailer so you work fast and almost forget to strip when you sit on the bed with the guitar. A little bit of a foolish feeling like you’ve never been naked in this room before. Hell, Eddie even has a picture shoved in his wallet of you lying under his sweetheart. His ideal centerfold is what he’d said when you’d turned bashful.

You notice the time and turn off the lamp so you can perch on his bed in the candlelight. Again with that foolish feeling when he’s a few minutes behind and you sit in silence for just a little too long, almost long enough to turn around and look out the window except you can hear the storm door creak and the key turn in the lock. Anticipation as he goes through his routine of coming home; dropping his keys and his coat, kicking off his boots and throwing his overshirt directly into the washer.

“Hello?” He sing songs down the hallway while the fridge opens and closes, the tinkling of a bottle cap hitting the countertop making you curl your toes.

“Down here.”

He must notice the lack of light under his door so he opens it slowly. A tentative turn of the handle before he pushes it in with a light tap. His curls precede him when he tilts his head in and you can already see the smile curled into his cheeks. “Well this is romantic.”

“Yeah I can do that sometimes.”

Finally he takes a full step in while taking a sip of his beer but he stops all his movement when his eyes adjust in the disappearing sunlight and soft glow from your candles. The bottle pops away from his mouth and you giggle at his wide eyes roving over you. He keeps glancing down at your legs, crossed at the knee and bouncing slightly with your nerves. You try not to grip the guitar too tight but it’s a lifeline right now while he digests the scene in front of him.

“What’s this for?” He asks quietly, hands hanging at his sides, beer forgotten.

“Well, I thought you could teach me a few chords?”

“Teach you-!” His voice cracks in his surprise and he laughs quietly behind his hand he holds to his lips. “You want me to teach you a few chords while your…doing all this.”

“Unless you don’t want to.” There’s hesitation now because he seems to only be laughing and you’re not sure if thinks this is absurd after a long days work or if he’s finding the effort funny.

“No!” He starts finally. Jolts to put his beer down on the dresser and holds a hand up. “No this is perfect.” He pads over to the bed before toeing off his socks and kneeling next to you, a palm finding your cheek to cradle it. “This is gonna keep me totally focused.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah see,” he swings his other knee onto the bed and shuffles till he’s behind you, that palm sliding down off your cheek to brush back your hair over your shoulder, “I can hold your hands over the strings. Like this.” He hooks his chin on your shoulder and stares at the dark space between you and the body of his guitar. His hands cover yours and he lines them up finger for finger so he can pull your hand up and down the neck, slowly, suggestively. His juvenile humor makes you laugh but it also sets your belly afire with want.

“So what are you gonna teach me first, Mr. Munson?”

“Call me Eddie, please.”

“Okay Eddie. What chord?” You cheese at him, playing into his bit.

“I think you should start with a D chord.” For all his suppressed giggles and blushing cheeks he does press three fingers into yours for the right chord. “It’s a good one.”

“Feels like a stretch.” You turn your head to look at him still staring at your cleavage pressed into the red and black body.

“Yeah, but you’ll learn to like it.” He drags his gaze up to settle on your lips. “Here, stay like that.” He moves his hand off your on the frets so he can pull your hair back from your neck. “Then strum with this hand-ah, not so fast. Slower.”

“Jesus, Eddie.” You chuckle at him and his innuendos.

“What? You gotta go slow, baby.” The tip of his nose runs along your neck before his lips do, just a ghost of a touch while you gently bounce your hand on the strings. “See?” A firmer press of his lips now. He smells like coffee and metal, heat from under his layers that mixes with his waning cologne. He drops his other hand from yours to sneak it around your side so his fingertips graze the bottom swell of your breast. “You make her sound better than I ever did.” Mumbled into your skin and the space you’ve created while your head lolls to the side. A single note played softly over and over while he envelopes you slowly. One hand inching up further to palm at your chest, the other grasping and crawling over your thigh and seeking out the heat between them.

You stall for a moment when his fingers brush your mound but he clicks his tongue at you.

“If I’m distracting you, I can stop.”

“No!” A sharp hit of the strings while you get back into the monotony of it and Eddie’s fingers continue their journeys. He coaxes your knees apart before settling behind you and pulling you back into his chest. The guitar shifts and your chest is hit with cooler air but his palm covers one tit, rolling your hardening nipple under his calloused hand.

“Keep it up.” He pulls your knee up before letting his hand glide down your inner thigh and only coming to stop when he can dip a finger into your wet heat. Both of you gasp but you loose the thread of concentration and suddenly his touch is missing. “I’m serious.” His smile is evident in his voice, his mirth brimming at you being at his mercy. “Keep going and I’ll make it worth your while.” He helps you rearrange your fingers before he’s drawn back to your warmth, fingers gliding aimlessly through your folds while you try to keep your mind on the right path. The tip of his fingers flick up over your clit in small burst that stay just out of reach of any real pleasure. Nothing that will last or make your eyes roll but they make your leg jump with every brush against that bundle.

“I’ll have you playing Slayer by the end of the night if I keep this up.” He’s so casual behind you and all you can do is nod. Laugh through your nose and nuzzle the back of your head into his collarbone; slump down further into his fingers that are finding their purpose now. Gentle prodding at your entrance that you breathily encourage and Eddie joyously teases before dipping in and finally making your eyes roll back. The steady strum of the guitar sounds softer now but you couldn’t really care especially when his teeth find your earlobe. Heavy breathing in your ear while he works his fingers in and out, curled up to find that spot that makes you go taut with pleasure.

Your grip on the guitar is loosening, barely a sound coming from it now that he’s got you pinned under both hands. “Eddie I-“

“Don’t drop her.” A swift pinch of your nipple makes you yelp and hold it back up against your torso, if only for a moment before you turn to butter in his lap. “I’m cutting you some slack here, gorgeous.” He grinds the heel of his palm down against you and you try to roll your hips into his hand, a circle of delight that has you almost forgetting what this whole thing started as. There’s a catch when Eddie adjust to curl over your shoulder and every graze of his fingers along your insides makes your vision go white.

“Eddie, fuck!”

“Yeah?” It just drives him harder, those dimples a threat to your sanity when he starts abusing his newfound toy. “Right there?” He asks even though he knows just by the way you buckle against him. The hand at your chest holds you to him like a vice and he pushes you further towards the edge. One well placed wet kiss against your cheek and a heavy drag of his fingers and your tightrope snaps, plummets you off the face of the earth for a few silent moments while Eddie lets you ride off the aftershocks on his hand.

In your bliss you feel him pry your fingers off the neck of his guitar and he swings it away to lean it on the dresser. “You didn’t let her drop. Good job.” A kiss pressed to your sweaty forehead.

“I can listen.”

“Not very well. You stopped playing.” He pulls his undershirt over his head and starts working on his belt. “I don’t know if you got the full understanding of exactly how you should play a D chord.” His grin is salacious while you stretch out on his bed, waiting for him to finish his joke. “And while you might be my favorite student, you need to learn some better studying habits.” He points a mocking finger in your direction.

“And how should I go about that?” You watch him stand and shed the remainder of his clothes. “You’re a terrible distraction Eddie.”

He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, mischief in his eyes while he plays with the ends of your hair, a smile and a laugh directly softly at you. “I think I have the perfect tool to help you.”

#asks! #My Fic #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson x Reader #is this what you were looking for? I hope so #if not my bad I got carried away

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /two/ Azriel X Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part one Part Three

You dream of the blue of his siphons. The hazel of his eyes. You see him every night, whether you’d like to or not. He seems to invade everyone of your senses, always. Even from miles away. Even if he was dead. But you swore you’d know if he perished when Amerantha took over. You felt as if you would’ve felt his loss deep within your gut. 

But there had been no word of Velaris, or the people inside it. Had your brother truly been able to hide it all of these years? He’d been stripped of so much of his power, but did he have enough to keep your beloved city safe? 

“He wants you in the dining room for dinner.”

“And if I say no?” You question the red haired fox. 

His eyes, one golden and mechanical, narrowed on you, “He’ll drag you down by your hair.”

“I’d like to see him try,” You bark out a laugh, knowing you could shred him in a moment if only you had use of your power. 

The faebane they kept you full of made sure you were just a sliver of who you once were. Your skin was dull and lifeless, gone was the wondrous glow of immortality. Because you might as well have been mortal, plain and easy to kill. But you still had the self defense that your brothers taught you. You still had the ability to fight back. You were weak now, yes, but you could still just as easily use one of the butter knives on Tamlin. 

“Please,” Lucien begged, “Don’t be difficult. It’s been a hard day.”

“He lost another, then?” I question, head cocking to the side. 

“Don’t bring it up or he’s likely to skin you alive,” Lucien warned you. 

“Again, I’d like to see him try.”

Lucien’s eyes seem tired as he looks at you. Your fight seemed to dissipate as you looked at him. You knew time was running out, far too fast. Soon enough Amarantha would take control over every Fae, no matter where they lived. Tamlin was the only one keeping her at bay, and his power was almost hers for the taking. Then what would become of you? When her goons came for Tamlin and ransacked the house, surely they’d find you and drag you before her. Then you’d just be a tool to further your brother’s pain. 

“Ah, I can see it now,” He sighed, “You’ve realized your fate, if this doesn’t work.”

“He’ll never convince a human to love him,” You shake your head, “No matter how charming  he can be.”

“For your sake, you best hope he does.”

You follow him from your room, or your cell, whatever seems to fit one day to the next. The manor house is quiet as you make your way through it, servants not sparing you a second glance. They all knew you were being held prisoner, yet they could do little to change it, without incurring the High Lord’s wrath. 

For once in your life, you were helpless, and had been since that day in the clearing.

“It would’ve been so much easier for him,” You mutter, “Had he just let them kill me that day. Instead he had them spare me and now I stay a constant headache.”

“More like a constant thorn in his side,” Lucien smiled slightly.

The thought brought a sly smile to my face. You prepared your stone mask as you grew closer to the dining room. Lucien was the only one you allowed to see a sliver of who you were. You allowed him to see more of yourself than you should, because he saw someone who was a little more delicate, a little more capable of love and sadness. Not the stone exterior of the Night Court that we worked so hard to maintain.

“Play nice with him tonight,” Was Lucien’s last warning before we reached the golden doors. 

You schooled your face into a bored mask, as if all of this was beneath you. For centuries you’d been playing this part. Without so much as a break from it. Only when you were sure you were alone in my rooms did you let the mask fall. Only then did you cry out for my family, for my home. 

“Glad you decided to join us,” Tamlin’s voice carried from the end of the table. 

Your eyes roll, “As if I had a choice.”

A snarl escapes from Tamlin, claws slowly growing. You smile sweetly at him for a moment, before throwing out what little power you had left to reach into his head. Just enough to let him know you were there, just enough to be a pest when you wanted. But it wasn’t without difficulty. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you strained against the confines of your power. 

“Enough,” He yelled, slamming his hands down against the table. 

You flinch back, seeing the beast start to emerge. For a moment you allowed yourself to feel the slight fear that crept in. You were weak now, unable to protect yourself as you used to. He’d taken your power, your freedom, and your strength away from you. Stripped it away as if it were nothing. He should have just killed you in the forest that day. 

“Where is the little human?” You question, sniffing the air, “Her…stench is hard to miss.” 

“She’s getting cleaned up,” Lucien spoke up, “Might be best if you eat before Alis is finished with her.”

I turn slowly to glare at him, before turning back to Tamlin, “Still keeping me as your dirty little secret then?”

“She doesn’t need to know about you.”

“You know, I hope you can charm this one,” You snarl, “Because time is running out. Soon enough we’ll all be-”

“Enough!” He roars, “I know how much time we have left. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Oh, you still have the chance, but the second he finds out I’m still alive,” You can’t help but laugh as you shake your head, “Well… then you’ll really wish you allowed them to kill me.”

“If she finds out you're alive…” Lucien trailed off with a look from Tamlin. 

I flop down into a chair and scoop up a glass of wine, “Well, this is going to be a fun couple of months, then, won’t it?”

“Behave,” Lucien snaps. 

“I am behaving,” I reply sweetly. 

“Eat, before I lock you up and forget about you.”

“Now now,” I sigh, “It’s been centuries, surely we can be a little more civil than that,”

“You’re too much like your brother,” Tamlin sighs, leaning back into his chair. 

“You almost sound sad about that,” You note, “Regretting crossing him?”

“No.” 

You hum and drink your wine before tucking into the food before you. Despite knowing there was faebane in it, you couldn’t stop eating. You hardly ate anymore. Just enough to keep you alive, but today you were starving. 

“Slow down before you make yourself sick,” Lucien said slowly. 

You growl at him before slowly down slightly. If only your brother could see you now. See what you’d become. If only Az and Cas could see you, what would they think? Or Mor or Amren. You weren’t sure what they would say if they could see you now. How different you’d become. 

Time passed slowly. The weeks dragged on, as you were only allowed out of your room when Feyre, the human, wasn’t around. Tamlin was doing well with dancing around your existence. Firenight was quickly approaching, and you felt the excitement deep in your bones. If there was one night that you would beg to be released it was Calanmai. 

“You know you can’t.”

“Please Lucien,” You all but beg, “He’ll be there, I know it.”

“Which is why you can’t leave the manor,” He explains.”

“I just want to see him for myself,” You whine, “I need to see him, just once before the fifty years is up. Just once.”

“He’ll know.”

“Tamlin will be too caught up in the rite to notice,” I remind him, “And you can manage a convincing glamor.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just this once,” You say softly, “I wouldn’t ask if time wasn’t running out.”

“I know.”

“Just, please.”

“You stay next to me the whole time,” He explains, “Running off could get you killed.”

“I know.”

“Thirty minutes, that’s all you’ll get.”

“It’s more than I thought I’d get.”

Your heart hammered in your chest with the prospect of seeing your brother again after centuries of being apart from him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him who you were, you wouldn’t be able to leave with him. Or speak with him. But you’d be able to lay eyes on him, and know that in whatever capacity, he was okay. He was alive, even if he was a slave to the bitch under the mountain. He’s still alive. And that’s all you could ask. Even if the rest of your family was dead, at least he lived on.

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster

[captain-hawks]

wriothesley x f!reader

c: 18+, masturbation, voyeurism, fantasizing about—oral sex (f!receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v, creampie, spit kink, anal

You’re so fucking distracting.

It’s been three weeks, four days, and just shy of fifteen hours since you arrived at the Fortress of Meropide as Sigwinne’s new assistant in the infirmary. 

Coincidentally, it’s also been three weeks, four days, and—yes—nearly fifteen hours since Wriothesley has managed to get anything of note done around the prison. 

It’s your fault, though you’re hardly doing it on purpose.

The issue is that Wriothesley doesn’t get distracted. As the prison’s administrator, he hardly has time to let his attention stray for a pretty face these days. If he’s in want of release, it’s not difficult to pay a visit above the surface—his title alone is enough to earn the interest of many a lady in the Court of Fontaine. 

But now?

Now, all it takes is a brief, standard check-in at the infirmary to send his plans for the morning spiraling, throat going dry at the sight of you bent over and speaking quietly to a patient. The polite thing to do would be to avert his eyes, and if he were a stronger man, perhaps he would.

But Wriothesley is a weak man when presented with the object of his distraction in a dress that’s just a bit too short, revealing the black garters holding your thigh-high stockings in place and thus a view of the smooth, bare skin just below the curve of your ass. 

And whatever Sigwinne is saying is entirely lost on him when you drop something, bending even further to the floor and revealing a thin, lacy strip of fabric that disappears between your supple cheeks—are those supposed to be panties?

As with most days that he sees you, Wriothesley can barely make it back to the privacy of his office fast enough, impatiently palming himself through his slacks while his boots storm up the rounded staircase. More often than not, his cock is already in his hand before the lock on the door has clicked into place, his other hand shoved between his teeth to stifle his moans as his hips eagerly jerk into his spit-slick fist.

He spends more time than he’d care to admit thinking about how you’d look bent over the smooth wood surface of his desk, the way your cries of pleasure would echo throughout the chamber as he fucks you. 

It drives him nearly mad—wondering how you’d taste on his tongue, how your legs would feel wrapped around him as he sucks on your clit and pumps two fingers into the soaked, dripping heat between your legs.

Would you bury your fingers in his hair, pull the strands so hard that his cock aches and throbs?

Would you whimper when he bottoms out inside of you, thick cock buried to the hilt in your gushing pussy?

Would you let him swipe a thumb along your bottom lip, tugging your mouth open to spit inside? (Would your pretty little cunt clench down hard on his cock while he does it, lips parting to beg for more?)

Would you let him fill you with his hot, thick seed, only for him to send you hurtling over the edge again as he laps his own cum from your sensitive folds afterward?

–

The feet of Wriothesley’s heavy chair drag against the floorboards as the rough upward thrusts of his hips begin to grow sloppy, the firm, steady strokes of his hand having quickly dissolved into full-on fucking his fist with untethered desperation. His eyes are closed, legs spread wide, lips slightly parted as he groans over the mental image of his hands shoving up the skirt of your dress, one finger hooking in the strap of a garter and letting it snap against the back of your thigh. 

And he’s so gone, so fucking gone on the thought of you moaning and keening and begging for him to stuff his cock in your tight little ass for the first time, that he doesn’t hear the repeated knocks on the door of his office. 

–

Honestly, does he ever have a free moment?

Pressing your ear to the door of Wriothesley’s office after you hear a chair move, your eyes widen when you’re met with the sound of the Duke’s rough, lewd grunts of pleasure instead.

Grunts punctuated by unmistakably slick, wet sounds that have you unconsciously clenching your thighs together, nipples stiffening against the tight fabric of your dress.

And then you hear it—your name, followed by a strangled, near-shouted moan of pleasure and ragged, gasping breaths.

Oh.

He—

“Is he in there?” The sudden sound of Sigwinne’s voice nearly gives you a heart attack, you hadn’t even heard her come up the stairs.

Your heartbeat is erratic as you turn to look at the Melusine and her pleasant, patient smile.

“I don’t think so,” you answer far too quickly. “Let’s go check the Production Zone.”

…and well, if you slip your fingers into your damp panties in the darkness of your private dorm later that evening, quietly panting the Duke’s name into your pillow, well—nobody needs to know, right?

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #dee writes

[forays-into-fiction]

The Box

You had been noticing some of your things going missing. At first it had been easy to dismiss, a hair tie here, an almost empty bottle of lotion there. But more recently it had been items harder to ignore, photos of treasured memories, items of clothing, so on and so forth. But you had no idea where they could be disappearing to, why would anyone even want that stuff, it’s not like it was valuable or anything.

 Minors DNI

Contains: Perv!Eddie/Perv!Reader, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining/Lusting, Masturbation, Sex Without a Condom, Dirty Talk, Slight Degradation, Mentions Creepy Behaviour That Goes Excused Very Quickly

Eddie escorts you to the front door of his trailer, holding the door open for you before following through. “Hey, I’m just gonna grab a shower real quick. You can make yourself comfortable in my room, you know the drill.”

You nod following him through to his bedroom, dropping your bag to the floor and sitting cross-legged on his bed while he pulls things out of his wardrobe.

“Only be a minute, you can pick out a video if you want. They’re just there.” He nods over to his desk and you follow his line of sight.

“Cool, will do.” You reply as he moves towards the bathroom.

Eddie strips off his clothes hurriedly, he’s been half-hard since the moment you stepped into his van, the way your little skirt rode up exposing more of your thighs to him distractingly. He’d been glancing over repeatedly the whole ride, practically white-knuckling the steering wheel. He doesn’t think you noticed… hopes you didn’t notice.

Stepping into the harsh spray of the shower and pulling the curtain closed behind him he wastes no time in gripping his cock, stroking it to full attention. He thinks about those soft, supple thighs as his hand glides over his length with a muted groan. He realises there’s not much distance between the two of you, only the thin wall separating you, you just in the next room over… in his bed.

He bites the inside of his cheek stifling his moans. This is so wrong, this is so wrong he thinks to himself, but if it’s so wrong why does it feel sooo good another little voice counters. His head falls forward resting against the wet tile in front of him, the strong metallic taste of iron fills his mouth.

He’s close, so close he can feel it fast approaching. He imagines you in those little black, lacy panties he’d found. He imagines flipping up the hem of your skirt and pulling them to the side and cumming all over them, your thighs, the way it would drip over your folds. Imagines you spending the rest of the day like that covered in his cum and it tips him over the edge, splattering the wall in thick, hot, ropey strands. It washes away quickly and he rushes to finish cleaning off.

There’s a handful of tapes sitting on his desk, as you approach you can see Alien, Body Double, 9 ½ Weeks and Sixteen Candles. You know which one he would expect you to pick, he would’ve rented it just for your benefit too. Instead of going for the obvious you opt for Alien, not recognising the other two. Secretly you love horror movies, but you tend to overplay your reactions, giving you an excuse to squeeze yourself into him, burying your face into his shoulder, pressing your tits against his chest as your nipples pebble against him. The jump scares do get you sometimes, but never bad enough to warrant the reaction you give. He’s never complained before, but when you do pick out a scary movie, he always gives a concerned, ‘Are you sure? You know how scared you get with these movies.’ To which you can’t help but reply with some variation of, ‘Yeah, but its ok, I’ve got my big strong Dungeon Master to protect me and I know how much you love them, so…’

 Video in hand you move back to the bed, listening to the sound of the water running, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the blanket beneath you. You grow bored rather quickly, tossing the video aside you pull your backpack up into your lap looking for something to occupy yourself. You don’t find much, you grab a notebook and pen doodling on it for a bit when you’re satisfied with the little drawing you’ve done you tear the page out and stick it to the wall behind his bed next to the banner that hangs there.

After returning your notebook to your bag, you pull out your chapstick freshening your lips, but as you go to put the cap back on it slips from your grip tumbling beneath the bed. You sigh sliding to your knees, reaching an arm under his bed blindly. Your hand bumps into a wooden box, you can’t help yourself, curiosity overwhelms you. Pulling it out staring down at it, you recognise it as the project Eddie had worked on in shop class, noting the little love heart you’d carved into the side.

 You pop the lid off and gasp at the sight before you, it’s a veritable treasure trove of your belongings. Things you thought you’d never see again, photos, hair ties, a pair of black, lacy panties, a mostly empty bottle of your lotion, a travel sized version of your perfume. You look closer, some of these photos are ones you’ve never even seen, taken without your awareness. 

The sound of the shower cutting off breaks you out of your stupor and you’re scrambling to shove the lid back on, flinging the box back under the bed. Leaping back onto the bed trying to look innocent, chest heaving with ragged breaths you try to calm yourself as Eddie begins opening the door. He walks in pants slung low on his hips, as he towels off his long curls you leer at his bare chest eyes traveling down to the sparse trail of hair that peeks out over the top of his waistband. He tosses the towel onto the bed and shakes his head like a dog before moving to his wardrobe picking out a shirt and pulling it over his head. 

He drops onto the bed slinging an arm around you, “So what d’ya want to watch tonight?”

He notices as you stiffen against him, flushing bright red, “Hey, what’s the matter? You, ok?” He asks softly.

You leap out of his embrace, backing away from the bed, stuttering, “Uhhh… I gotta… I gotta go.”

You bolt out of the room hightailing it through the front door.

He sits there for a moment, frozen in shock before chasing after you.

“Hey, where are you going?” He calls after you. “What’s wrong?”

“I just gotta go Eds.” You shout back over your shoulder.

“But I drove you here.” He shouts back.

“That’s ok, I’ll walk. I could use the exercise. Bye.”

He doesn’t know what to do, he wants to go after you, wants to insist on at least letting him drive you home. Trying to think what could have happened that set you off like that… it couldn’t be… no, there was no way. You hadn’t heard him surely, he’d done his best to keep quiet, bit the inside of his cheek ‘til he drew blood for Christ’s sakes… unless something slipped out without him realising, a moan, some other offensive sound, your name. No, no that couldn’t be it… but what else could it be. He spends the rest of the night agonising over what could have happened to send you running like that.

 You on the other hand spent the rest of your night with your fingers buried between your thighs, writhing around on your bed, biting on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. Your mind conjuring thoughts of Eddie getting himself off to you, your panties wrapped around his hard cock, your photos spread out over his bed, him cumming in thick, hot spurts over his stained mattress… is that how he would do it… or maybe he’d stuff your panties in his mouth like a makeshift gag, muffling his cries as he fists his cock desperately, finishing all over one of your photos, you’d definitely seen some residue on a few of them.

You spend the next few days avoiding him like the plague, you don’t know how you’re ever going to look him in the eye again or how to behave around him now. Not a day goes by that you don’t think about the contents of ‘the box’, every waking moment, every fitful dream… you can’t escape it. Soon even dirtier thoughts fill your mind, thoughts of adding to his collection. Posing for some naughty photos, leaving him your dirty underwear, a fresh bottle of lotion, on and on the thoughts race through your mind. You wonder how he’d react if suddenly one day there was something new there, something he didn’t put there.

 And then one night you do take those photos you’d been thinking about. Picking out a set of lingerie that you think he’d like, you get yourself all worked up snapping photos along the way. Pulling your panties to the side swirling your fingers around in your slick before plunging them in. Playing to the camera as best as you can. You orgasm three times that night, leaving your panties a soaking mess, you bundle them up with the polaroids you’d taken and shove them in the drawer beside your bed.      

 This is the longest the two have you gone without speaking since you met, he’d been trying to reach out to you this whole time. Calling your house, dropping by unannounced, trying to catch you at school, all to no avail. You’d managed to avoid him, but not without difficulty. He’d even sent one of his little Hellfire Club members with a message, begging you to just talk to him, but you refuse.

However, Eddie manages to corner you in the halls after school one day, dragging you into an empty classroom.

He stands in the doorway blocking your exit, you avoid looking at him, “Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why won’t you look at me? Why are you avoiding me?” He hisses angrily grasping your chin tightly forcing your face towards him.

You keep your eyes downcast as he continues, his tone softening slightly, “Seriously, y/n what’s wrong?”

You shake your head in his grip, refusing to answer.

“Please. Please tell me what’s wrong… I-I can’t…I can’t lose you.” He implores, words catching in his throat.

It tugs at your heartstrings and you finally look up at him, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his tone desperate, “Was it something I did?”

You hesitate, yes and no, it was also something you did, but you can’t even begin to explain it to him.

“Please, you’re my best friend. Please, don’t do this.” He begs.

You feel yourself tearing up too, you can’t bear to think that you’re hurting him, “Eddie, please just let it go. If you let it go maybe we can go back to normal.”

“That’s all I want… to go back to how it was before. But I gotta know was it something I did, something that we could have avoided?”

“No.” It’s a half-truth, but it’ll do.

“Are you sure?” He presses.

“I’m sure. We can move on pretend nothing ever happened…”

“If that’s what you want. Would you… would you like to come over tonight, maybe watch that movie we were supposed to…?”

 “Tonight?” You ask in a strained voice.

“I mean it doesn’t have to be tonight… whenever… whenever you’re free is fine.”

“No, uh tonight is fine I just…um, maybe I could swing past my house first?”

“Yeah, sure we can do that-”

“No, no I mean just me, I’ll uh drive over myself.”

“Yeah, that’s cool too… I gotta pick up some videos again anyway.” he breaks into an uneasy grin.

“Could I… could I get a hug… it’s just, it’s been so long and-” He ventures uncertainly.

You cut him off wrapping your arms around him, “I missed you, missed this.” He mumbles into your hair, pulling you closer.

“Missed you too Eds.” You admit.

You pull up to his trailer, parking by his van, you flip down the visor staring at your reflection. You try to psych yourself up, you can do this you’ve done this a million times it’s just a movie night with Eddie. But you can’t help but think to that little bundle you’d slipped into your bag, almost as an afterthought, it’s practically burning a hole in the front pocket. You shake your head as if to clear it, now or never you think before springing to action grabbing the bag and throwing open your door.

 You knock on his front door, you haven’t knocked on his door in almost as long as you can remember. Usually you’d just barge right in, but nothing felt normal anymore. Eddie calls out to you, “Just a minute…” before appearing in the doorway shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Oh, uh come in.” He jumps aside ushering you in with a sweep of his hand.

You’re thankful he didn’t question the knocking and you also don’t acknowledge his odd behaviour.

“So, uh I brought some snacks.” You hold up the bag, freezing momentarily when you remember your panties shoved deep in the front pocket, among other things. You clear your throat, “So, um anyway… your bedroom, like always?”

He nods, leading the way as you trail along behind him. You settle into your usual spot dropping your bag to the floor gently.

You don’t know what possessed you to bring them but you had. Tucked away in your bag by your feet, that little bundle of ‘gifts’, you can’t stop thinking about it as you pull out a stash of candy. You can barely focus on what he’s saying, he clicks his fingers in front of your face snapping you back to reality, “Hey, I said, do you want popcorn?”

“Oh, uh yeah sure, that’d be great. Thanks Eds.” You smile up at him nervously.

“Ok, be right back. You can set up the movie if you want. Did you still wanna watch Alien? I know that’s what you picked out last… um, last time, it was still on the bed when you… when you left.” He asks tensely. You nod in response and he exits the room.

 The screen crackles to life and you pop the video into the little TV/VCR combo unit you had gifted him, to much protest on his behalf, for his eighteenth birthday.

Pausing the film and turning back to the bed you bite your lip, you have a chance now… you could slip it into the box now, while he’s distracted. You can feel your face heating up as you contemplate it, glancing over to the slightly ajar door before thinking fuck it.

 Kneeling down by your backpack you pull out that little bundle and fish around under his bed for ‘the box’. Flipping off the lid you arrange your items neatly, unfolding them you place your underwear in first, followed by the polaroids on top and finally a new bottle of your lotion, little bow tied around it… was that too much? Maybe, oh well. You slide the box back under his bed.

Eddie renters his bedroom quietly, he didn’t mean to sneak up on you, just wanted to ask if you wanted extra butter on your popcorn. But when he sees you kneeling on the floor, ass up, hand reaching under his bed he can’t tear his eyes away, barely able to hold back a groan, until… under his bed, oh shit. He scrambles to action, sliding to his knees in front of you wide-eyed and panic-stricken he grabs your arm firmly, the one still under his bed trapped on top of the box.

 “What are you doing?” He hisses at you a mix of desperation, panic and anger seeping into his voice.

You sit there frozen staring into his eyes as they bore holes into your own, “Umm… I-I dropped my chapstick?” You answer uncertainly.

“Ok, where is it?” He demands.

You’re speechless, unable to respond, you know you don’t have a chapstick in your hand.

“Go on show me.” He insists.

“I… uhhh…” You stutter.

He drags your arm out from under the bed, your hand knocks the box, flinging it out to rest between the two of you.

Both of you stare down at it, his head snaps back up to look at you but you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

“Did you open this? Did you see this?”

You don’t trust your eyes not to betray you, you can’t look up, “No, uh-”

“Don’t lie to me. Did. You. See. This.” He hisses again.

You remain silent.

“You did, didn’t you… if not now, then… oh my god is that… is that why you took off that day?”

 He grips your chin harshly, forcing you to look at him, “Is that why you went running for the fucking hills? And what, you came back here to get rid of it or something?”

“No…” You mumble, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“No? Then what are you doing?”

“I… uh… just… just open it, Eds.”

He gives you a puzzled look before tossing the lid off, leaving its contents laid bare between you.

He picks up the lotion, wrapped in its little bow, turning it over in his hand.

He splutters, “Wh-what’s this?”

“Just… just keep looking.” You turn your head away in shame.

He looks back to the box, mouth dropping open in awe. He picks up the photos next, flipping through them gasping as they get gradually more and more explicit. He notices the panties next, dropping the photos beside the box to hold them up observing them. “Are these… are these the same ones from the photos?” He groans.

You nod still avoiding his gaze.

“Goddamn… what… why…” He’s unable to finish his thought.

 “Well, I um… you’re right I did find it that day, but it’s not what you think.” You rush to explain, finally looking up at him. “I uh, I saw this and I… I dunno I thought… I thought it was kinda hot.” You cringe a little. “And then suddenly you were back here, half-naked practically dripping wet, then you were all pressed up against me and I just… I didn’t know how to process it I guess.” You shrug.

He smirks at you, “You thought it was ‘hot’? Who knew you were such a little perv?”

You give him a slap, and whine, “Oh, shut up, it’s not like you’re not a perv too.”

“Oh, sweetheart you have no idea.” He hums, “But, then why did you run away, why did you avoid me for so long?”

“I just… I couldn’t face you after, especially after what I did…” You trail off.

 “What do you mean? What did you doooo?” He asks intrigued, drawing out the last syllable.

“I uh, I fingered myself when I got home and I… I thought about you. About how you might use the stuff in your box.” You bite your lip.

He groans in response, “God damn, that is the hottest shit I’ve ever heard. Is that… is that when you took the photos?”

“No um that was a few days later. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, the box, everything and the idea kinda just popped into my head to maybe give you something in return.”

“Awww, so generous of you.” He teases, standing and offering you his hand. You grasp it and he pulls you to your feet, guiding you to sit on the bed before plopping himself down beside you.

“So… what do we do now?” You ask awkwardly eyes downcast, twisting your hands in your lap.

“Well, we could just watch the movie, or…” He trails off.

“Or…?” You look up at him hopefully, into his eyes, now clouded with lust.

“If I’m honest I popped a semi as soon as I saw your cute butt wiggling around in the air and it’s only just been getting worse since.” He admits with a groan. You hazard a glance down at his crotch to see the tent that’s formed there and let out an involuntary whine.

 “You wanna… fool around a little?” You offer glancing back up at him.

“I want anything you’ll give me.” He sighs.

“O-ok… I gotta warn you though I don’t really have much experience with this stuff.”

“Me too, it’s fine.” He assures you, “We can figure it out together.” He smiles softly.

 His hand comes up to cup your face and he leans in hesitating before his lips meet your own. “Can I…?” He breathes out.

You nod, your eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours. He’s quick to deepen the kiss, groaning into your mouth. You part your lips letting his tongue explore your own.

When you break apart, both panting he murmurs against your lips, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too.” You sigh. “Ever since-”

He cuts you off, “Don’t. Don’t, I don’t wanna know how long I could have had you… how long I could have had this. Just too stupid to figure it out.”

You slap his chest, “Don’t say that, you are not stupid!”

“But-”

“No! I won’t hear it. Now you better get back to kissing me Munson.”

He pauses uncertainly, you fist your hand into the front of his shirt pulling him back in capturing his lips between your own forcefully.

“Mmpf… yeah… mhhhh… yeah ok.” He moans into your mouth between kisses.

Your hand wanders down his chest to palm at the prominent bulge in his pants. He bites on your lower lip drawing back, draging his teeth along it before releasing.

“You, uh… you wanna get naked for me?” He asks tugging on your shirt.

“Yeah…” you hum in agreement pouting up at him, “do you wanna take off your clothes too?”

“God yes. But you first, I wanna watch.”

“O-ok…” you lower your hands shakily to the hem of your shirt raising it over your head slowly before dropping it on the bed beside you. He gapes at your chest, hands coming up to hover over the swell of your breast.

You sense his hesitation and grab his hands pressing his palms into your sensitive flesh. He groans and gives an experimental squeeze drawing a soft whine from between your lips. He stares on appreciatively as you snake your hands behind your back to release the clasp of your bra, brushing his hands away to pull it free and tossing it away.

His hands are quick to return to their original position now circling your nipples with his thumbs. “This is… goddamn, this is better than any wet dream I’ve ever had.” He murmurs.

You giggle teasing, “And we’ve barely done anything yet.”

“God, I know. Can I… can I get you to lie back?”

“What happened to ‘getting naked’?”

“Yeah, changed my mind, want you to keep your skirt on… if that’s ok?” He rushes to add. “It’s kind of… part of a fantasy I want to try.”

“Yeah, sure.” You reply moving to lean back against his pillows.

“Thank you.” He mumbles moving to straddle you, towering over you.

It’s your turn to tug on the bottom of his shirt now, “Can you get rid of this though, I wanna see you too…” You bat your eyelashes at him. He eagerly hooks a hand into the bottom of his shirt pulling it over his head tossing it aside grinning at you. You run your hands over his chest your eyes following along with their movements. Your fingertips come to rest at his handcuff belt-buckle and you look up into his eyes as you undo his belt. Unzipping his jeans, you tug them down to his knees before rolling down his boxers to join them, his thick, hard cock springs forth, the tip flushed and dripping. Your eyes widen at the sight, “You got a pretty cock Eds…” you breathe out in admiration.

It twitches in response, “God, sweetheart you’re too good to me.” He moans.

The way you squeeze your thighs together beneath him doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he smirks at you devilishly, “Someone’s getting a little antsy, aren’t they? What do you want sweetheart? Tell me.”

“Touch me, please…” You whine.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” He brushes his hands along your neck, down your shoulder, “Here?” He teases.

“No. Down… down there.” You pout, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

He reaches down trailing his fingertips in circles over your knee, running his hand up under your skirt to your thigh and squeezing firmly, so close to where you need him, “You mean here?”

“No, Eds! I mean… I mean my pussy.” You sob with a pathetic broken little moan.

“Oh, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” He moves torturously slow, flipping your skirt up and tugging your panties to the side exposing your sopping wet cunt to the cool air of his room.

He runs two of his fingers through your slick folds, groaning appreciatively, “All this from just a little groping, god you’re such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

“Oh god, yes. Just for you Eds.” You gasp as he begins to circle your clit.

“Yeah, tell me again how you touched yourself thinkin’ ‘bout little ‘ol me. Tell me, what was I doing in your fantasy?”

You can barely think straight, only just managing to stutter out, “Thought… mhmmm… thought ‘bout you u-using my… hmmm… my panties to jerk off… thought ‘b-bout y-you cumming all over my photos.”

He plunges his fingers into your entrance as he continues, “You wanna know about my fantasy?”

“Yes, please Eds.” He wiggles his fingers in a come-hither motion stretching you out in a way that has you panting.

“Well, in my fantasy I’ve got you like this, skirt flipped up, panties pulled to the side as I jerk off above you. When I cum it goes everywhere, all over you right here…” he pushes his fingers even further into you, you begin clenching down on his digits, “then I pull your panties back in place, make you walk around all day, feeling my cum dripping out of you, spreading all over you. You want that?”

“God yes! Eds please I’m cumming.” You wail as your walls pulse around him.

“Fuck, that was hot.” He groans while slipping his fingers out from between your thighs leaving you trembling beneath him.

 He stares down almost trancelike, at his slick digits, slippery with your cum before pushing them into his mouth sucking on them as his eyes drift shut moaning obscenely.

“Fuck me Eds.” You whine desperately.

His eyes snap open and his hand drops from his mouth, “Uh yeah, god yes… let me just find a condom.” He leans over to his bedside table but you grab his arm.

“‘S fine don’t need one I’m on birth control an’ I wanna feel it when you cum, wanna feel it inside…”

“Fuck, you keep talking like that I’m gonna blow my load in like two seconds…”

“‘S ok if you do, I mean I already came jus’ wanna make you feel good now.”

He growls pushing his jeans and his boxers down to his ankles kicking them off at the edge of the bed. He grips the waistband of your panties moving to pull them off but you stop him, “No leave them, you can fuck me with them on like in your fantasy, you know just pull them to the side.”

“Goddamn, you are like the best wet dream ever, come to life…”

You hook a hand behind his neck cutting him off and pulling him into a searing kiss.

You pull your lips away from his reluctantly, “You gonna fuck me now or what?”

He lets out a rumbling groan, “Yes princess, anything you wish.”

Gripping his shaft at the base with one hand as the other pulls the fabric covering your entrance to the side, he rubs the head along your folds teasingly before slowly easing himself in. He pants out, “Let me know… if- if it’s too much, ok?”

“Mhmm.” You mumble gritting your teeth at the slight burn as your walls stretch around him, while not your first you are unaccustomed to anything of his size.

He bottoms out resting there for a moment allowing both of you to adjust to the sensation before testing the waters with a shallow thrust. His hips shift into a steady roll and you bite your lip whining at the sensation, flexing your walls around him.

 “Oh god, you feel sooo good… I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, fucking you raw…” He gasps.

“Oh, Eds I’m not just letting you do it, I want you to.” You reply breathily.

His hips slam into yours as he lets out a broken moan, “God yes, my dirty little girl wants me to cum inside her.”

“Yes, ‘m yours Eds. Wan’ you to fill me up.” You pant.

“Oh god ‘m not gonna last much longer do ya think you can cum again?” He asks desperately.

“Yeah, maybe… lemme try something.” You drop your hand between your joined bodies, swirling your fingers around your clit and bumping against the base of his shaft.

Your eyes roll back, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as you clamp down around him. He bucks up into you one final time, hips stilling and unloading deep within your wet heat with a cry of your name he collapses on top of you. The two of you lay there, bodies quaking with aftershocks and panting into each other.

He slips out of you moments later readjusting your panties patting them in place as your combined fluids leak out, staining the gusset.

He presses a kiss to your thigh before breathing out “You were so good for me sweetheart.”

“Yeah? Do you think we could do that again sometime?” You look down at him hopefully.

He rakes over the length of your body coming up to face you “Oh, sweetheart you’re not going to be able to keep me off of you now.” He chuckles darkly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You giggle at his response, “Good… So, you still wanna watch the movie?”

“I guess, if you want.” He shrugs.

You nod moving to grab your top, pulling it back over your head forgoing your bra. He moves to grab his own clothes pulling on just his boxers and shirt.

“You still want that popcorn?” He asks moving to the doorway.

“Yes, please.” You grin at him.

He returns bowl of popcorn in hand, he starts up the film and snuggles up to you.

You munch away at the popcorn in his lap, he spends the whole movie anticipating your reactions, but they never come. He’s confused normally you’d be a jumpy mess long ago, you don’t even flinch when it comes to the chest-burster scene. He pauses the film looking at you eyes narrowed, quirking a brow, “Hey, what gives?”

“What’re you talking about Eds?” You mumble back through a mouthful of popcorn.

“You are not reacting to any of this like at all, what gives? Normally you’d be a mess right now, halfway in my lap-”

“Oh, uh yeah about that… I was never actually scared in any of the movies we watched.” You admit with a sly grin.

“What? Then why-” He splutters.

“Cause I wanted to touch you, wanted an excuse to be close to you… so, I… faked it a little.”

“Oh, you little… here I was thinking you had no idea the torture you were putting me through, but you knew, you did it on purpose?!” He gasps affronted.

“Well, I didn’t know it was affecting you too. I just wanted to be closer to you.” You pout.

“We’ll, I guess that worked out for you huh?” He teases.

You smirk back at him, self-satisfied, “It did, didn’t it?”

As you shift from side to side happily in your seat on the bed there’s an audible squelching from between your messy, sticky folds.

Eddie gasps, “Shit, I fucking heard that. Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

You giggle, grabbing his hand to push his fingers against the drenched fabric between your legs and he inhales sharply.

“Are you trying to start something again… already?!”

“Maybe…” you reply cheekily grinning up at him.

He groans head hanging down towards his chest before snapping back up and pouncing on you, “Come here then.” He growls.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #perv!eddie #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie x perv!reader #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n

[not-another-leon-blog]

Condor Two

RE4! Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary- You're Leon's partner, separated by villagers when you arrive in Spain. Word Count: 3425 Established Relationship A/N: Something different, there will be more to the Family Matters series coming soon!

I should’ve gone with Leon, you thought. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be tied to a pole and helplessly watching a Spanish police officer being secured to a pyre. What a way to begin your search for the president’s daughter.

Even more frustrating, you could hear Leon talking in your earpiece, trying to reach you. But with your hands literally tied, there was no way for you to respond. You hoped Hunnigan would be able to get a location on you. Of course, Ashley Graham remained the priority. But knowing Leon, he wouldn’t rest until he’d recovered the both of you.

The scent of old manure and death filled your nose. Your wrists and ankles ached and burned from the ropes binding you. At least you didn’t have to go looking for that village, you supposed. Still, you doubted that you’d find Ashley here.

As the sun rose, you surveyed your surroundings. Old wood buildings surrounded you. Chickens, cows, and pigs roamed freely and the villagers… well, you didn’t know what to make of them.

You and the officer tied to the pyre had been ambushed. They’d slashed the tires of the police car that had brought you out here and quickly overwhelmed both you and the officer. There was a throbbing in the back of your head where you’d been hit before waking up here. Wherever ‘here’ was.

Villagers wandered aimlessly through the small town, muttering things under their breath in Spanish. Something wasn’t right with them. Black veins covered their pale skin and their eyes were wild. It didn’t even seem like they fully registered pain. Some were covered in cuts and blood that they hadn’t bothered to clean and the bandages you did see were old and dirty.

“Condor two,” came Leon’s voice again, “Condor two, do you read me?” You rolled your eyes and groaned. You wanted nothing more than to answer him. “Y/n, where are you?”

Waiting for Leon to find you wasn’t an option. If your suspicions were correct, you were next on the sacrifice list.

The villagers had taken your guns when they’d taken you, but they hadn’t stripped you of your jacket. The small knife sheath strapped to your forearm was still hidden beneath the sleeve. There wasn’t much room to move, but you could move your arm against the pole just enough to free the knife from its sheath. 

Warm leather fell into your hand and you gripped the handle as tight as the rope would allow. The angle was awkward and your hand was already beginning to cramp, but you slowly began to saw away at the rope.

Keeping an eye on the villagers, you watched them begin to gather in the middle of town where they’d constructed the pyre. As long as you stayed quiet, hopefully, you’d avoid drawing their attention. 

A thought crossed your mind. How were you going to save the officer? He struggled and yelled, pleading with the villagers to let him go. His words carried no weight. 

The ropes around your wrists fell to the ground. Now you just had to free your ankles and then–

One of the villagers approached the pyre, a thick burning stick in his hands. Before you could blink, he tossed it into the wood pile and within seconds the whole thing had gone up in flames. The officer screamed and flailed. The smell of burning flesh filled your nose and you knew there was no saving him.

Heart pounding, you reached down and cut the rest of the ropes. Finally free, you crouched down and quickly dashed between the nearest buildings. If there was anything you knew for certain, it was that you couldn’t stay here. You didn’t stand a chance against a whole town with only a knife.

You turned the corner and skid to a stop. Not everyone was in the town square. An old woman stood in front of you, a pitchfork held firm in her bony hands. She raised the pitchfork and swung so fast you were barely able to dodge. You dropped to the ground and kicked her feet out from under her. You were on her in a second, pinning her shoulders down with your knees and driving your knife into her temple.

She lay dead and you quickly searched her body for anything that might be useful. Your shoulders slumped. Nothing.

Mud squished behind you and you turned to find a group of four more villagers stalking toward you.

"C'mon," you muttered, frustration laced in your voice like venom. There was no winning this fight. Your only choice was to turn tail and run. But to where? The last thing you wanted to do was run deep into the woods with nothing more than you knife. So what–

An axe whizzed past your head, lodging itself into the wall behind you. "I take it we can't talk this out," you said. The villagers only growled back at you.

You vaulted over the fence next to you as they pounced, narrowly avoiding another axe. Then you were running as fast as possible.

Branches scratched your skin, mud sloshed and slid beneath your feet. You didn't know where you were going, and nor did you really care at the moment.

You burst through the trees and found yourself in a small clearing. You stopped to see if anyone had followed you and when you didn't hear anything but the sound of rustling trees and chirping birds, you let yourself relax.

"Condor one," you said, reaching to activate your earpiece. "Condor one, I'm here." No reply. "Leon?" Nothing. You tossed your arms. Of course your equipment would stop working the instant you were free.

You looked back toward the village. Smoke rose into the sky. The screams of that poor officer still echoed in your ears. You knew you needed to go back, that if you were going to find Leon the best place to start looking was there. But having nothing more than your knife to defend yourself with made you hesitant.

Still, it's not like you had much of a choice.

"You got the stench of battle on ya," a rough voice said. You whirled on your heels, knife ready. A man in a black cloak stood behind you, a purple mask covering the lower half of his face. "You can put the knife down, I mean you no harm."

"Who are you?" You demanded, not lowering your knife.

He chuckled. "Just a man tryin' ta make a living. Got some rare things on sale for ya, stranger." He held out an arm, revealing a variety of weapons and ammunition along the inside of his sleeve.

"Impressive," you mused. "But I don't have any money.  So thanks, but no thanks."

"Nothin' wrong with doing things the old fashioned way," the merchant replied. "How 'bout a trade?"

His offer was tempting. You didn't have much, but maybe there was something you could give him in exchange for that pistol you spotted on his sleeve.

You lowered the knife and folded your arms. What did you have to offer? Your knife wasn't worth much and you were hesitant to part with it. Aside from that… Your heart sank as you remembered the one valuable you did have on you. 

Leon had gifted you a necklace on your birthday last year. A beautiful silver piece with a small yet intricately detailed bird hanging from it. He never told you what it had cost, but you knew it had to be expensive. Subconsciously, your hand came up to touch it.

"That's a fine piece you got there," the merchant said.

You didn't want to, but it could mean the difference between life or death. After a moment of silence, you asked, "What will it get me?"

"It may be small, but this beauty packs a mean punch." He showed off a revolver. "And as a first-time customer, I'll toss this in free of charge." He flaunted a can of first aid spray. "Whaddya say, stranger?"

Given the circumstances, you weren't sure you could pass up the offer. Reluctantly, you took off the necklace and handed it to him. As promised, you received both the revolver and spray.

The merchant must have noticed how your eyes continued to follow the necklace as he held it. "This is in good hands, I assure you. Now, don't go gettin' yourself killed." There was nothing more to say. The deal was done. With a simple nod, you turned away and began to trek through the forest back toward the village.

You felt naked without the weight of the bird against your chest. Ever since Leon had given it to you, you'd almost never taken it off. What would he think when he saw you without it? That necklace was his silent claim on your heart.

Romantic relationships between agents were frowned upon, forbidden almost. As far as the agency was concerned, it was a conflict of interest and if anyone found out, it was likely they'd separate you. Leon couldn't have that. He needed you as his partner both on and off the field, to be sure you were (somewhat) safe and alive.

He must be worried sick, you thought. Unless it was absolutely necessary, Leon hardly ever allowed radio silence between you two. It had been hours since you last had contact with him. Hell, the last time you saw him was when he left the police car to find the first police officer that had wandered off, instructing you to keep an eye on the second. 

You checked the chamber of the revolver. Six bullets. Six shots. You had to make them count.

You tried your earpiece again. Still no answer. Maybe the signal would get better the closer–

"Mother of god!" You yelped, pawing at your ear in pain. A loud screech filled your ear, followed by the sharp crackling of static. 

A voice was coming through the other end. It was Hunnigan.

"Condor two," she said, "What is your status?"

"You could warn me next time before you almost blow out my eardrum," you shot back. "I'm still breathing. All four limbs are accounted for. I'm on my way back to the village."

"Negative, Condor two," Hunnigan replied curtly. "There's a good chance Baby Eagle is being held in a church by the lake. I've sent you the coordinates."

"Well, I'd love to see those, but I've lost pretty much all my stuff." You could practically see her rolling her eyes.

"Alright, I have a lock on your position. Head north from your position. Leon is on his way there now."

"Roger that, Roost. Condor two out."

You finally managed to find a path leading north. So far you'd encountered no one else and you hoped it'd stay that way. You wanted to hang on to your six bullets for as long as you could.

"Condor one?" You tried again. If Hunnigan was able to reach you now, you should be able to reach Leon. Right? "Leon?" Silence. You'd be having a serious chat with your techies when you got back.

The lake couldn't be too far now. Trees and brush was beginning to thin and that musty lake smell began to hover in the air. The gravel path you walked along slowly turned into a muddy trail. You emerged onto the bank of the lake. A castle stood menacingly in the distance on the other side. To your left, you saw old wood scaffolding webbing up the side of a cliff. A dock sat just underneath it and at the top, you could just barely make out a church's roof.

Looks like that was where you were heading. With a new determination, you began the long walk over, falling back into the treeline to avoid detection from the water and clifftops.

~~

Ashley Graham was the priority. She was the one they were here to save. Even if one of you had to be left behind or killed to do it, she was the objective. 

But Leon refused to leave you. Even if he had to take your body back to the States, there was no reality where he left you here in this hell.

He'd come so close to you in the village. He'd seen you through his binoculars and then you were gone. Once the villagers had retreated into their church, he'd searched the place high and low, finding only your guns and equipment. He was fearing the worst knowing you were out there with only a knife, assuming it hadn’t given out on you yet.

He continued along the winding path, still trying to catch his breath. The village chief had nearly choked him to death not long before and he still felt the ghost of his fingers on his neck.

"Looks like you're in quite the rush, stranger." Leon stopped and rolled his eyes. It seemed like this merchant was there at almost every turn.

Oh well. Leon could stand to lose some excess weight from his bag. As he opened his mouth to reply, his words caught in his throat. There, among the vast array of goods, was your necklace.

"Cat got yer tongue?" The merchant chuckled.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Leon said, his voice low.

"What? This?" The merchant held up the necklace. "An exchange with a traveler lookin' to keep their head on their shoulders."

A part of Leon wanted to be hurt that you'd traded it. But his more rational side understood that you didn't have a choice. He'd found everything but your knife in the village and he knew well enough that you'd need more than just that to make it through this.

The merchant was a reasonable enough man. Leon was sure he could trade something to get the necklace back. Without a second thought, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out two silver goblets and a handful of gems he'd found in the village.

"Must hold sentimental value if yer gonna trade all that for this," the merchant observed. "Can't put a price on that." Still, the merchant tossed Leon the necklace and stashed away the rest. "Pleasure doin' business with ya."

That was easy, Leon thought. Much easier than he anticipated.

Pop pop

Leon perked up. Two solid gunshots had come from the direction of the church. It had to be you. It had to be.

He took off running, not caring if he drew attention to himself. He had to find you.

~~

The church was crawling with villagers. You'd managed to kill three already, but the rest materialized from everywhere. From behind the church, from the graveyard, from the way of the lake, they were everywhere.

Down to four bullets, you had a choice to make. Ashley could be just within reach. You could potentially thin out this crowd for Leon by the time he got here, make his job easier at the cost of (most likely) your life.

Or you could turn tail and run. You refused to keep running.

Someone grabbed you from behind, wrapping their arm around your neck to choke and hold you still while another prepared to swing their axe.

You dropped your weight and threw the one holding you over your head. Grabbing your knife, you threw it as hard as you could. The one holding the axe fell with a hard thud. You ran and pulled the knife free, turning just in time to stab it into the head of another.

A pitchfork came flying at you. It whizzed past you, the spokes just barely missing your arm. Blood began to flow from the wound but you had to keep fighting. Any hesitation could result in your death.

Four more surrounded you, cornering you against the fence. Your drew your pistol and fired twice. Two flew back and dropped to the ground. Two bullets left.

You took aim once more and just as you were about to pull the trigger, something slammed into your back. You were thrown fast and far, landing hard against a headstone. The pistol clattered out of reach and when you went to pull your knife, the blade snapped from the hilt.

Your arms shook as you tried to push yourself up, only for them to give out and leave you nearly limp against the headstone. A monster of a man towered over you, a massive hammer held menacingly in his hands. He raised it high over his head.

Time slowed down. Memories began to flash through your mind. Your first time meeting Leon at bootcamp. Sparring with him in the middle of the night, comforting each other when the whole world felt like it was collapsing in on you. The first time he kissed you. 

A sense of peace washed over you as you watched the hammer begin to fall, sunlight glinting off of the metal. 

No. You couldn’t let it end like this. You rolled, the hammer meeting the ground where your head had been not a second before. Scrambling to your feet, you dove for your gun. Back on your feet, you shot down two more villagers. Better to have them dead now and not wait for them to gang up with the big one against you.

Your bullets were gone and your knife was broken. You scanned for anything you might be able to use. The brute marched toward you, hammer ready. You lept over headstones, ripping a shovel from the hands of a dead villager. 

You turned just in time to bring the shovel up to meet the hammer, stopping it in its path. The wood handle splintered, your arms shook with the strength it took to keep the hammer from you. The handle cracked into two pieces and the brute charged into you, throwing you hard against a tree and knocking the air from your lungs. He charged again, hammer high and then–

BANG!!!!

The man stumbled back forward. Another BANG and he fell to the ground lifeless.

“Y/n?” came Leon’s voice. A second later he was in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. 

“I had it handled,” you muttered.

“Of course you did.” He helped you sit up the brushed your hair away from your face. The urge to pull you into his arms was overwhelming, but with the beating you just took he didn’t want to risk hurting you even more. At least you were alive. “Think you can stand?”

You nodded and let him help you up. Your legs were shaking and your head felt dizzy, almost falling into Leon as you tried to regain your balance. He held you against him until the world stopped spinning and you could stand on your own again. 

“What happened?” Leon asked, his arm tightening around your waist, almost as if he were afraid that you’d disappear the moment he let go.

“Got bored, decided to go sightseeing,” you replied. He gave you a look. “We were ambushed and I have been hit in the head too many times today.”

He nodded and dug around in his pocket. "I found something I thought you might want back." He held up the necklace you'd traded with the merchant.

"Leon…" Guilt and shame came over you, but also relief at the sight of it. "I'm sorry, I–"

"I know," he said, moving to fasten it around your neck and tucking it under your collar. "You didn't have a choice, I get it. I also found the rest of your stuff."

A weight lifted off your shoulders. Your pistols felt like a comforting blanket as you strapped them back on. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn," Leon said simply as he hooked an arm around your waist and drew you back to him, crashing his lips against yours. He pulled away and smirked down at you, knowing the kiss left you breathless. 

It took a moment for you to regain your senses and when you finally registered the knowing look on his face, you swatted his chest. “C’mon, Romeo. We still have a job to do.” It took another moment for your feet to start moving again, your body wanting to stay wrapped up in his arms. They couldn’t waste any more time. “Baby Eagle’s still waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Leon watched as you quickly approached the front gate of the church, a new pep in your step. He’d do everything in his power to make sure you weren’t separated again.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #re4! leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4 leon #leon x reader #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy x reader #x reader #leon kennedy fic #Leon Kennedy