#vanity: *pulls the chair from under her*

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)

a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.

Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾

Series Masterlist

~~

Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning? 

Was it significant? 

From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud. 

You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed. 

Did they move it for a reason? 

Did they think you wouldn’t notice? 

Was this even your bedroom? 

You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls. 

So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing. 

And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be. 

You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet. 

The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click. 

“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?” 

Do you remember? 

It was unintentionally cruel. 

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar. 

Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation. 

Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode. 

Maybe you were going to explode. 

It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you. 

“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?” 

Do you remember that? 

You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull. 

Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.” 

There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door. 

They would pace one way, and then the other. 

“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.” 

“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.” 

The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.” 

A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you. 

They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor. 

You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of. 

“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.” 

She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top. 

A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it. 

More tears left your throat feeling thick. 

“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know. 

“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?” 

Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.” 

~~ 

You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor. 

The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily. 

The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job. 

You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that. 

“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again. 

She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others. 

Which was why you had suggested a lunch. 

You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion. 

You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years. 

But you didn’t know them, not really. 

And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence. 

“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door. 

“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable. 

Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes. 

Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—” 

“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.” 

As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.” 

Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet. 

“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles. 

“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.” 

“To not overwhelm me.” 

“Precisely.” 

Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?” 

Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?” 

“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?” 

“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.” 

“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke. 

Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.” 

You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone? 

It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her. 

That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.

Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings. 

Azriel. 

He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained. 

Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head. 

A throat cleared. 

You snapped your head up. 

“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”

“I do,” you softly interrupted. 

Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”

“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.” 

He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.” 

“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.” 

You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from. 

You should say something.

Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family. 

Were they still your family? 

You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.

There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help. 

What if you were stuck like this? 

What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—

“That dish is your favorite.” 

Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target. 

“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained. 

You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”

“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.” 

You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study. 

Did they shove them back there on purpose? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered. 

He took a bite of salad. 

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.” 

The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own. 

“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.” 

You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.

“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.” 

Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”

Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness. 

But Azriel. 

Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went. 

He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one. 

“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak. 

At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.” 

And then he was gone.

Part 3 ☾

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

[nymphomatique]

your nerd miguel fics are so good i didnt even know id like dom!reader this much

imagine slutty!reader getting ready for another party and she's barely wearing anything, pretty tits n ass spilling out of her clothes. she's leaning forward over the vanity to do her make up, and miguel cand help but get distracted from (her) homework, and just looks at her plump ass peeking from under her flimsy skirt. he begs her to let him rub himself on her and with hesitant hands he grips her hips and dryhumps her like a dog in heat

well, yes!

cw: slight dom!fem reader, sub!miguel yall know the vibes, me indulging in fashion for a moment, dry humping, miguel cums in his undies, this one’s a lil sweet i fear, awkward ending soz, edited AND proofread y’all 🙏🏾 (can’t guarantee no mistakes however)

wc: 1.6k

❤︎ a/n: i’m a dirty liar and forgot to upload this yesterday but!! she’s here and she was a labour of love! everyone who survived the great barbie drought of winter 2023-2024 gets a pin and goodie bag at the door. nevertheless, enjoy!! 💋

“hey, four eyes, this dress or should i wear a skirt instead?”

brown eyes you’ve come to know so well, more than you’d like to admit, flit up to meet yours momentarily until they look at the two articles of clothing hanging on hangers between your manicured fingers. in one hand, a mesh cut out dress with a deep plunging neckline, and a khaki mini skirt in the other.

“um, skirt. y-you looked pretty in it when you bought it, so um- you should wear it,” miguel mumbles, a pink tint sweeping its way lightly across his face. you’re feeling particularly sweet on him today. it’s been hard to keep your eyes off him as of recent, his chiseled jaw, thick lips, and who could ever forget the resplendent pools of brown that takes form of his eyes. eyes that make your face heat up, setting your body ablaze and feeling feverish under the slightest of glances.

he’s classically handsome, that much you won’t deny, as much as it kills you.

you silently take his suggestion in heed, quietly stripping in front of him to change into the skirt he suggested, and pulling on a black long sleeved crop to to match. you silently lament on the memory of the day you bought the skirt, how you had dragged miguel by his shirt alongside you that day to the mall to sit and watch you buy clothes at any and every store, designer or department, and shuck your bags into his strapping arms. you had wandered into miu miu, miguel trailing not too far behind you with your bags from blumarine, versace, cavalli and more comfortable in his hands. he sat patiently in the waiting chairs as you picked up an array of shirts and skirts and accessories, until you were ready to try them on. miguel sat and watched as you said no and turned your nose up at nearly everything until you tried on a khaki skirt, sitting so low on your hips the straps of your red thing peeking above the waistband.

you turned and twirled in the mirror, admiring the skirt on yourself until you turned to miguel himself, walking up to him as he’s sat to ask him, “you like it?” and like it he does, a hefty hand trailing up from your thigh to your hip, tapping your your hip softly. “you know i do, baby,” and you giggle at his answer, twirling for him before walking back the dressing room to change, not before biting your lip and beckoning miguel to follow at your heels with a pink painted acrylic nail. and follow he does, because he’s such a good boy.

you feel roused at the memory of your dressing room quickie in the same skirt you’re wearing now. and you’re sure miguel feels the same, and you don’t miss the opportunity to provoke him at any moment.

you bend over, slow but curt, fixing up your makeup in your large vanity while your ass sits out in direct display, the short fabric of the skirt lifting as you bend. your black thong is made visible as you bend and wiggle you hips. you steal small glances in the mirror to where miguel is on your bed, sitting in a sea of linear calculus books, and sure enough the methods of linear are long forgotten to focus on your exposed backside. you giggle and turn your head to look at him, and his lips purse when he realizes he’s been caught. before he can sputter anything out, you stand and turn to him and ask him, “see something you like, dontcha?”

a silent swallow and a nod is miguel’s response, his growing erection answer enough for you.

“beg me for what you want.”

and there’s a brief fleeting moment after the words leave your lips. an unspoken fervour in the air, perhaps a mix of what hasn’t been said and all that’s left to say about the two of you. you feel hot, your gaze burning through miguel’s clothes, burning his skin all the way across the room. you want him, you want him, you want him. and he’s looking back at you, a subdued but still present lust in his eyes. you see the submission, his compliance. yes, mistress.

his knees hit the floor, and then his rough palms follow suit and he’s crawling towards you until he’s not, and his sat like a good little boy in front of you painted feet, and he does what you ask, he begs for your touch, your taste, your mercy.

“please let me touch you, i need it, please please please. can i have it? can i touch you, mommy? i don’t even have to be inside you, j-just your touch and i can- i can cum. please? oh god please-“ miguel babbles, his hulking form looking up at you from the floor. you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your chest. he just needs your touch. you card a hand through his thick wavy locks, gripping at the nape and pulling his head up to look at you.

“just need my touch, hmm?” you look at him and he nods. whimpers. so fucking pathetic. “i’ll let you hump me like you want. my subservient little puppy needs it, huh?” you coo mockingly. a string of yes’s and thank you’s leave miguel’s lips and you get up and turn around, bending over to brace yourself on your vanity.

you’re fully presented for miguel, and there’s an empty beat of stillness between you both, you make eye contact with him in the mirror and quip, “gonna keep me waiting?” and he knows better than that. he’s up on his feet, unbuckling his belt and shucking his jeans down and off him, standing in his boxers, swollen and full with his erection. he moves behind you, placing his hands on either sides of your hips.

“no ma’am.”

you can’t help but pulse in anticipation. you look at him in the mirror and find that he’s looking at you already and you feel yourself heat up. please don’t make me wait anymore, you think. like he’s read your mind, miguel’s covered erection is pressed up against the gusset of your panties, perfectly slot between your ass cheeks.

and experimental hump sends you bouncing forward a little, your breasts jiggling a bit, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving you. finally. another hump, miguel’s strong hands pulling your hips back towards his crotch and you gasp a bit and the pleasure. another thrust of hips, and again, and again until it becomes a steady rhythm of soft sighs and low groans. and it goes on from a thrust to a trust and grind, and oh! the meat of miguel’s dick rubs up against your clit and you can’t help but moan.

your moans are joined by miguel’s whimpers, his hips rocking so intensely it has you burning up inside so much that you think you might cum from the stimulation. “s-so good baby, fuck,” miguel let’s out and you keen at his praise. you’re so good, you’re his baby. you push and grind your hips up in time with his, feeling yourself begin to soak through your panties and maybe onto miguel’s dark boxers. you can’t hold yourself together anymore, feeling yourself come apart so you drop your head onto your vanity’s surface, hoping to salvage some semblance of your pride.

the thick hands on your hips move to find purchase within your skirt, grabbing fistfuls of the short fabric before pulling your hips back with a staggering strength. you feel your knees buckle a bit, and your head shoots back up with an accompanying moan.

miguel pulls you down while pushing himself up into you and it feels so fucking good. your palms feel clammy and you feels as if you’re still sanding by the grace of god. every nudge of your clit feels as if it’s short circuiting your motor functions temporarily and you feel so overwhelmed to the pleasure, you can do nothing but succumb to it, and the man granting you it.

“m’gonna cum miguel. so good, so fucking good. wish you were inside me so i can feel you. wish you could feel me cum around you. f-feels so good please don’t stop! i’m gonna- oh!” you’re mumbling and babbling incessantly, canting hips and soft whimpers that turn into heavy groans only further pushing you past your limit through this titillating pleasure.

“fuck, gonna come with you baby. come with me, please mommy i need it,” miguel moans. his hands release your skirt and dig into your hips once more and you’re sure you’ll find salacious marks there in the morning but you don’t care, not when you’re so close.

a particular hard thrust sends you reeling forward, head almost hitting your mirror and you can’t help but give out within your legs. you feel them shake and almost go numb at the pleasure. you’re left helpless, cumming violently and soaking the fabric separating both you and miguel as miguel continues his assault against your poor pussy. he fucks it- humps it?- raw, overstimulating you to the point of pain when finally he finishes with a final thrust, his nails digging into the meat of your curvature. you feel his cum seep through the material of both of your arguments and you moan as it hits the gusset of your thong.

miguel lets go of your hip and you wobble a bit, using your upper body upon your desk to stabilize you. you’re both panting and heaving, taking in the intense and carnal display of lust between the two of you. you’re quiet before you hear miguel pipe up, breathlessly, pulling you from your daze.

“thank you, mistress.”

smug bastard.

#sub miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara smut #miguel atsv smut #atsv miguel smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #you’ve got mail💌 #<nerd!miguel3

[luvwestwood]

"Working Overtime" - Toji Fushiguro

4,469 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), toji is your boss, escort reader, thigh riding, p in v, spitting, toji rails you on a balcony, exhibitionism?, toji fucks you on a pile of money, mention of size difference, hair pulling, eye contact, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praising, light aftercare

notes. corporate girlie by day, escorting by night. out of all people, who knew your own boss had to be tonights client? (ok but wealthy toji is such a refreshing experience from broke homeless smelly ass toji.)

art used is by @/yunonoai

Being able to say you work under Mr. Fushiguro meant that you were gifted of some kind. Just having the privilege to do so puts you on top of others in society.

Toji Fushiguro himself possessed a different category of wealth. Any high-rise building you walk into in the whole of New York, you could be 99.9% sure that he owns it.

Five star hotels, bars of any kind, and award-winning Michelin restaurants. Oh, you name it. This was his world and we were just living in it.

On the other hand, the Fushiguro company's pay was decent. Working conditions were way above standard. It was a luxury to work in his office, but knowing you, it just wasn't enough.

You needed more than that. Which is why you took up escorting, suggested by your best-friend one night while the two of you were intoxicated by liquor. She told you that you had the looks, the bod, and a personality anyone would die for. And lastly, you were captivating - you could have anything your way.

At first you took it as a joke. Thinking she was just being a lick ass. But surprisingly you had tried it out not long after the idea was proposed, and you ended up making almost double your annual net salary in just four months. This night job was a secret that only you and your best-friend knows about.

Of course, you worked on the weekends. Choosing to work Monday to Thursday would’ve been self sabotage.

You had more than enough money to buy whatever you want, send your mom on holiday, and you were always on top of rent. Your corporate job was just something to get through the day with rather than rotting at home.

During shifts, you and the other escorts would hang around in the night club changing rooms. Most of the girls were also strippers in the same club, but that wasn’t really your thing. So you just stayed with escorting. Your manager would just assign each of you clients, unless someone has personally booked you in.

Speaking of which, a voice came from the door frame. “Star, you have a client tonight. 9PM.” Star wasn’t your real name, it was just a fake one that you used while you escorted. It was safer, and most of the other girls did the same.

You look at Geto, your boss, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Busy polishing up your eyeliner, you try your best not to poke yourself in the eye. “Name? And did he obey my no-home rule?”

As an escort, you did have some rules for your own service. You figured you’ve been doing this for quite a reasonable amount of time, so you made a personal rule where you’d refuse to go to a clients house. For safety reasons.

“Goes by the name.. uh… Eznin? And he did indeed. Seems like he booked in for the Ritz Carlton on 25 West. Think he’s a first time client too.” He reads the details off his tablet.

Of course, it just had to be one of Fushiguros hotels. You literally couldn’t escape that man.

The other girls in the room purred, “Aren’t you lucky.. Seems like he has money, don’t ya think?” Meimei takes a puff of her cigarette, looking at you in the mirror aswell for a response. “Maybe check for an expensive watch? I’d take it if I were you.”

“Not funny, Meimei.” She was known for stealing from her clients, you never knew how she got away with it. It even got so bad to the point that she sp¡ked a client, taking his wallet afterwards.

Getting up from the chair, you made your way behind the dressing divider, shimmying your robe off to slide on a dark blue lingerie set. Over it, you wore a simple black dress. I mean, you could never go wrong with a little black dress.

Throwing on some matching strappy heels, you stuffed your purse with some condoms and lube. And a plan B, of course.

“Your rides sorted,” Geto stood back from the door frame. “I’ll text you any further details.”

“Copy,” after spritzing on some perfume, you made your way out of the club.

An all-black SUV was waiting for you outside the entrance. Your favourite driver, Todo was standing beside the car door, smiling as you approached him.

“Hi, Todo.” You smiled as he held the door open.

“You look wonderful miss.” Todo smiles back before closing the door, walking around to the drivers side.

The car drives on, and as you were securing a secret mic in your purse, (for safety reasons but the client never knows) Todo speaks.

“Ah- Miss, not sure if I should disclose this information but your client tonight is.. very wealthy.” His leather covered hands clutch onto the wheel. “I’d be more demanding if I were you, make the most of it.”

Breaking out into a laugh, you stop fiddling with your bag, to look at him in the rear view mirror. “..Is that so?”

“Yeah… thought I might let you know.” He grins, bringing the car to a stop. Todo quickly scurries out of the vehicle before you could, opening the door for you.

“Thanks for the ride, Todo.” You slipped a $20 bill in his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

He nods, getting back into the car as you made your way inside of the hotel.

Checking your phone for updates, Geto sent you a text with all the details around five minutes ago.

Eznin Caln 30 years old, Net worth- $307,473,297 Floor number 43, he’ll let you in.

You walked over to the elevators, luckily one was already open. Taking a look at the buttons panel, you looked for a 43. Noticing it was the last highest button, you raised an eyebrow before pressing it.

Clutching onto the straps of your purse, the doors closed. You could only look at yourself in the metal reflection, taking a few deep breaths. Of course, you made sure to send a text back to Geto to let him know you were at the hotel.

Although you were decently experienced in this job, you’d still get nervous each time you were about to meet your clients.

Setting down the fly aways in your hair, the elevator came to a halt.

*Ding!*

The metal doors opened before your eyes. Hesitant, you walked inside, the bottom of your heels tapping against the wooden floors.

“..Hello?” You peeked inside the other rooms in the penthouse, one being a mini office that seemed like someone was just there, the other being a bedroom with big windows and a balcony, overlooking the city.

A deep voice spoke behind you. “Can I help you?”

You gasp, clutching onto your chest as you turned around. “I’m so sorr- Mr. Fushiguro?!”

Your eyes widened, and his mouth wide open. He was only in a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair wet from a fresh shower. You couldn’t help but ogle the drops of water that decorated his muscular body.

“…Are you.. the escort?”

Unable to form words, you swallowed your spit before speaking. “I.. I am.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the ground.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” He eyed you up and down, a mini towel in his hand to dry his hair. “Sorry you have to see me like this, excuse me while I put some clothes on.”

Is he not going to question anything?..

Your breath hitched, God, did he know I was eyeing him? “Okay..”

He turned around to go back to the bathroom, but looked over his shoulder as he was doing so. “Just call me Toji, we’re outside of work.”

You watched as Toji continued to walk away, “Well.. I’m basically working, aren’t I.” you muttered under your breath, making sure he doesn’t hear.

Looking around, you remembered that he owned this hotel. I should’ve known when I was going to the 43rd floor, he doesn’t let anyone in here.

You walked over to his bedroom, it was bigger than your own apartment. The sheets were neatly made, and a bottle of Malbec sat on a table near the window.

Placing your purse on small sofa, you removed your jacket, neatly folding it over the arm rest aswell.

You made your way to his closet, in search for a white robe. There was a robe on the hanger beside his freshly dry cleaned suits. You took it out, tracing your fingers over “The Ritz-Carlton” that was embroidered onto the front in cursive.

Sliding your dress off, you covered yourself in the robe, only the dark blue lingerie set underneath. Afterwards you tied a knot around your waist with the belt. Kicking off your heels, you placed them inside the closet, along with your dress that was neatly folded.

Although you were an escort, you made sure to clean up after yourself. You hated leaving a mess around, so you respected your clients by making sure to leave the place clean.

You could hear Toji walk into the bedroom. Closing the doors of the closet, you turned to him, and he was already busy getting the wine bottle open with a corkscrew.

Taking a seat on the armchair in front of him, causing you to be at crotch level with Toji. You watched as his arms flex each time he handled the bottle.

You noticed Toji was in a more relaxed outfit. He wore a dark grey cotton longsleeve that sculpted over his muscles like paint, with bottoms in a matching colour and fabric.

“Toji,” you called out his name.

The pouring of the wine stopped, his fingers gently pushing the glass towards you. “Hmm?”

Taking the glass by the stem, you twisted it between your fingers. “Do you regularly hire escorts?”

Toji walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He sighed, looking at the city view in front of him. “No,” taking a sip, he continued. “This is my first time, actually.”

You did the same, but taking a tinier sip. You didn’t want to be tipsy while carrying out your service. It was too dangerous. “..Oh.”

Looking back at Toji, he was busy staring at the red liquid swirling around in the glass. “I dont even really know how they work.”

As you were about to take another sip, you paused. Your eyes looked at him over the rim of the glass, before placing it back down on the table.

“You can just do whatever you want with me, really.” You crossed your legs, exposing the bare skin on your thigh to him.

"I see," he nods, slightly leaning back onto the bed, using his hands for support.

"So, you made up your mind yet?" you got up from the arm chair, making your way to Toji who was on the bed. "What you wanna do?" You stood yourself between his legs, as he tried his best to hold himself back from pulling on the knot that was holding your entire robe together.

Toji's hands rested on your hips on top the robe, dangerously close to your ass. He made sure to bring you closer to him, almost pressing your chest to his face at this point. "I don't know," His free hand tugged on the knot of the belt, slowly unraveling it until the robe slid off your body. "Maybe you, if that's an option."

He could feel his cock strain against his pants as he took in the sight of you in nothing but lingerie, it felt like he was opening a present on his birthday. Blue was his favorite color.

You choked on your words at his response, he sure did have a way with his words. "I don't usually allow that, but maybe I'll let it slide tonight."

Toji caressed your wet lip with his thumb, gradually sliding it inside of your mouth as you sucked on it gently. He stops and moves you to the side by the waist, getting up from the bed.

Confused, you stay standing in front of the bed, watching Toji as he grabs something from the drawer. He eventually makes his way back onto the bed, but this time, leaning his head back against the head-board.

Toji takes out his wallet, pulling a $20 bill out and placing it on the nightstand beside him. "..Crawl over to me."

Your lashes flutter as you watched him place the bill on the night stand, you could only obey what he asked you to do. 'I'm just doing my job.. this doesn't mean anything. He will forget about this.' You constantly chanted this in your thoughts, completely disregarding the fact that he was your boss.

You crawled onto the bed, and slowly to him. Toji's eyes watched you closely making sure to tell you, "Stop," as you were just about to crawl onto his lap.

He takes out another $20 bill from his wallet, this time, two. Toji gently raised his knee, just enough for it to rub against your warm cunt that was covered by the lace panties. "Ride my leg, until I tell you to stop."

Aroused, which you are not meant to be, you couldn't help but sink yourself down onto his leg. Part of you wanted this, but you did at good job at not showing it.

You slowly started to move your hips back and forth on his lower thigh, placing both of your hands down in front of you for support. Toji's hardened cock begging to come out as he watched you closely.

If you were to lift up his top, you’d be able to see his leaking top peeking out of his waistband. The straps of your bra slowly fell down off your shoulders. Toji could almost groan at this lewd sight in front of him.

"Good girl," He did his best to hold himself back from holding onto your hips, "Keep going."

A spot on the fabric of his pants turned into a darker grey than before, your slick making its way through your panties. Nothing can be done.

Breathy moans started to crawl out of your throat, Toji noticing as you started to grind on his leg harder and slightly faster. "Stop."

You whimpered quietly as Toji retracted his leg from underneath you, observing the newly made wet spot on his pants. "Look at this mess you made all over me.."

Speechless, and breathless, you fell back onto your heels in front of Toji, he took another bill out, but this time $50.

"..I want that bra off." He slaps the bill onto the growing pile on the nightstand, followed by another 50. But he doesn't take his eyes off you. "And the panties. They're kinda annoying me now."

Doing exactly as he said, Toji's hand rested on his crotch, aching to palm himself through his pants. You slowly, but teasingly unclasped your bra, Toji clearing his throat by the time your tits were finally on display to him.

Followed by your soaked underwear, which at this point was no use. They managed to fly across the bedroom, hanging off a small statue that was on top of a console table.

He just wanted to wrap his mouth around each of them, or even motorboat your titties.

Toji propped himself up in a less relaxed position. "Lie down on your back, legs spread."

Your last sight was him before you fell back on to the bed, your head nearly hanging off the edge. Toji noticed your nipples hardened as soon as your skin made contact with the cold satin sheets. You felt the weight of the bed shift around, as Toji grabbed both of your legs by the thighs, positioning his head between them.

Squirming about, Toji peppered kisses on your inner thighs, his large hand wrapped around one of them. Wasting no time, he went straight to sucking and softly biting on your folds, using his tongue to lap at your bud until it was swollen. Moaning into your pussy, he softly massaged the flesh of your thigh, the vibrations from his grunts adding more to your stimulation.

Busy sucking away, wet noises from his tongue and the slick of your dripping pussy echoing throughout the bedroom. His hand reached behind him, then slowly went back over his shoulder. It was a $100 bill, tucked between his index and middle finger.

You were too busy hanging your head off the edge of the bed in pleasure, grabbing the sheets beside you and wrinkling them as Toji devoured you like he hasn't eaten for weeks.

The paper bill fell onto your stomach, tickling you slightly. You could feel Toji spit onto your pussy, the saliva trickling down almost into your hole before he slurped it back up, sticking his fingers in there instead. You felt them slide into you with ease, Toji swirling his warm tongue around on your clit.

"O-oh God.. To..ji." You managed to choke out a moan, your manicured hands clawing at his hair and eventually messing it up.

Letting go of your thigh, he used his now free hand to fondle with your breasts eagerly, twisting your nipples between his fingertips before giving them a slap.

One last lick on your clit, Toji removed his head between your legs, this time his whole body kneeling between them. You sneakily push up against him, his bulge through his pants grazing against your bare cunt.

Using your strength to lift your head from the edge of the bed, you watched as he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor. Its neckline was soaked from eating you out earlier, but we don't talk about that.

Panting, his hands frantically rummage through his wallet. You noticed it was still bulky, as if the previous cash he pulled out didn't make any difference to the amount he had now.

Toji pulled out $1000 all in 20 bills, your eyes widening, wondering if he was serious.

"Please.. let me fuck you." Toji also sat back on his heels, $1000 in his hands as you were underneath him, fully naked. He just wanted to indulge himself in you, and if he could, he'd make this night last forever.

You slowly nodded, honestly begging to having his cock inside of you too. Before you knew it, your vision was filled with the $1000 raining down onto your body, and by your sides on the bed. He quickly pulled his bottoms down to his knees, before realising they were too annoying. He proceeds to fully kick them off.

Toji glances around the room for a condom, before you stopped him. "..Is it okay if we don't use one? ..I want to feel every inch of you."

You read his mind. "Anything you want, gorgeous."

His large hands shuffled through the pile of cash that was over your body, making sure that he could still see your tits and your beautiful face.

One hand grabbed onto your waist, and the other was used to align the tip of his cock with your hole. As soon as he slightly pushed the tip in, both of his hands were on your waist now.

Toji carefully slid in, making sure you take every inch of him. He closes his eyes in pleasure as he feels your plush walls clench around him, Tojis grip on your waist intensifying.

And, god was he big. In both cock, and Toji in general, he could destroy you if he decided to use full stength tonight.

"Y-you're too.. big," Toji not even halfway, you cry out, only wrinkling the sheets more to the point they weren't tucked into the frame hotel-style anymore.

You could feel both of his thumbs caress the soft skin of your sides as he cooed, "I know baby, I know," Toji let out a grunt as he tried to move in and out of you.

The difference of size between you and Toji made you throb, at this point he could just use his hands to fuck you on his cock back and forth like a doll in his grasp.

Toji starts to pant as he picked up the pace of his ruts, your tits bouncing, only adding to the pornographic sight in front of him.

Covering your face with your hands, you moan into them, the feeling of being full with Tojis cock was driving you mad. You could feel one hand let go of your waist, bringing it to your wrist to pull it away from covering your face.

The rustling of the cash beneath you and the sound of skin slapping echoed out into the living room from the bedroom. "Look at me when I fuck you," Toji says sternly, causing you to whimper in agitation as you did your best to keep your eyes on his.

"To..Toji.." You moan out, choking on your words as your hand grabbed onto his that was wrapped around on your waist.

"Come on doll, say my name." Turning feral, Toji pounds into you like a fleshlight. Voice shaking as you try to moan out his name, and by tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice.

He comes to a halt, completely. Toji slides his cock out of you, a creamy white ring formed at the base. You whine before he hushes you. "Y'know what," He picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

You switch positions, instead you lock your legs around his waist, as the two of you made your way to the balcony door of the bedroom. Is he..

*click!*

Toji slid the glass door open, the two of you stepping out into the balcony. It wasn't cold, and you could see the still busy city carrying on with life underneath the hotel.

Suddenly, Toji peeled your legs off his waist, making you face the railing, and the city in front of you. You gasp as he roughly positioned your body, placing one leg up onto the rail, your two hands clutching onto the cold metal.

He slides into you again, but this time not allowing you to adjust. Toji immediately goes in with brutal force, your ass ripping against his pelvis as he drilled into you. On the balcony. For anyone to watch.

Toji spits again, his saliva falling onto your asshole and soon enough drips onto his cock that was continuously pounding in and out of you.

Your moans broke out into a giggle due to the ticklish feeling, Toji couldn’t help but smile at your reaction.

Both hands on your waist, Toji groans in pleasure and praises you non-stop for taking him like a good girl. His hand wrapped around your lower stomach as he felt you give in, your legs unable to support yourself. "You're doing so good for me," he whispers in to your ear, only to leave a trail of wet kisses down your back afterwards,

You moan continuously, for sure, everyone below could hear. Your hand made its way to Toji's nape, bringing him closer to you as he repeatedly fucked into your sweet spot.

"I’d do anything to be able to see a view like this one for the rest of my life," his left hand made its way down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles.

This just did it for you, lowly moaning, you let go of Tojis neck. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on the metal rail ontop of your same hands that were grabbing onto it. But a certain someone didn't let you do that.

Toji immediately grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back against his chest, taking your leg off the rail. You felt him interlock his hands around your inner elbow, suddenly fucking into you upwards as you grab onto his bicep for support.

"G-o-d Toji, please just f-u-ck your c-um into me." The enunciation of your words came out in bits, as Toji drilled up into you at a brutal pace.

He grinned against your necks skin, leaning further to plant kisses on your jaw."You want me to fill you with my cum, huh?"

You frantically nod, but that wasn't enough of an answer for a man like Toji.

"Oh baby, use your words." He purred into your ear, holding his orgasm to make sure you get it when you deserve it.

"I need it- I need it so ba-ad." You whimpered out, squeezing onto his bicep. "Please, Toji."

He whined, balls tightening as he heard you beg for him. You already drove him crazy, and that only drove him crazier. With one deep thrust, his movements come to a halt, allowing his warm, thick seed to fill you up completely.

Toji placed more kisses onto your back and your neck, making sure to never lose grip of you in case you go all jelly. Followed by him, slowly pulling his cock out of you, his load dripping out of your hole and onto the balcony flooring.

He stuck two of his fingers back into you, slowly fucking the load inside of you to make sure it stays inside. With his cum covered fingers, he slid the two of them past your lips and into your mouth. You sucked on them, humming as it covered your taste buds, and eventually swallowing.

Toji slapped your ass, and you yelped, giving him a glare. He chuckled before picking you back up bridal style, carrying you back inside the penthouse.

He gently and carefully placed you on the bed, quickly cleaning a bit of the mess you two made around the room.

"How about I go run us a nice bath, hmm?"

Fiddling with your thumbs, you watched as Toji neatly fold the pile of money together alongside the one on the night stand. Of course, it’s still yours. "That sounds good," You smiled as he walked over to give you a peck on the forehead.

The dripping of water from the bath tap rang throughout the room, Toji leaning back against you as the two of you were in the tub. You squeezed a sponge over his abs, the hot water dripping down his skin as he closed his eyes.

"..Toji," you called out his name, and he hums back in response.

You gently rubbed the sponge up and down his arm, "Would you say this counts as me working overtime for you?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to look up at you. "I'll add another $500 bonus and a shopping spree if you ride me in this tub."

You scoff, letting go of the sponge as you sulk against the marble of the tub. "I'm literally stuffed with your cum. I think you had enough, thank you very much."

Toji only laughs, "Aren't you forgetting you got an asshole and that throat of yours? We can easily squeeze in three more rounds."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #jjk fushiguro

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

OUUH WHAT ABOUT spencer watching her do her makeup, pick out an outfit, get dolled up to go meet his team

fem bimbo!plus size reader, wc: 498.

a/n: AWW OMG writing this actually gave me cavities. this is probably the fluffiest thing i've ever written on this account!! i really tried to get into the mind of our precious bimbo reader, and i feel like i did a pretty good job if i do say so myself! 😏

You always liked to say that you did your best work under pressure, so why in the hell wasn’t your eyeshadow… eyeshadowing?

You looked at yourself in the vanity mirror, your gloss covered lips turned down into a deep frown. The lines caused by your frustration left behind little creases in your carefully laid foundation. You were one more mishap from a total breakdown.

“Spence?” You turn around in your porcelain white chair that  completely contrasts the dark coziness that was Spencer’s room. 

Tonight was the night that you were going to meet your boyfriend’s team, which in your mind translated to his family. You had met his mom already, and she liked you, so why were you so intimidated? Maybe it was because these people were like your precious boyfriend just twenty times more terrifying.

Tonight had to go well, or you swear that you might just die!

“Yes, sweetheart?” Spencer responds from behind the book he had his nose buried in. He had been resting against the headboard, the lower half of his body relaxed and his legs were stretched out carelessly. The advantage of being a human string-bean, you supposed.

“Does my makeup look okay?”

Your exasperated tone in your voice forced his eyes away from the page and onto yours.

He was surprised by the light tones of eyeshadow you had picked, they were a lot different from the bold pink, purples, and blues. That could only mean one thing.

“There’s no need to be anxious, honey. You look beautiful.”

Usually, you were very susceptible to Spencer’s praise, often turning bashful and shy, as well as giggling and grinning like a schoolgirl. Nope, not today. Today felt like not even the sweetest of hymns could bring you down from your anxiety ridden stupor.

“Really? Because I don’t know about the color… I feel like the eyeliner makes it look clumpy.”

Spencer Reid was trained for this, if the hours of cosmetology research he had done counted for something. Why you may ask? Well, the first time you had asked him about your makeup was when you two had first started dating, and it had unfortunately gone a little bit like this:

“Does this look okay?”

“It looks fine, angel.”

“Oh God, I should just start over, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Spencer smiles fondly, “It doesn’t look clumpy at all. In fact I think the dark and light colors complement each other well, they make your eyes look large and enchanting.”

And just like that, all of your apprehension melts away. “Oh, good!” You all but cheer.

He watches with a lovesick smile on his face as you pull out outfit-after-outfit from the closet – that’s really more yours than it is his – with an excited grin.

“How about this one?”

Spencer knows he’s in for a long night; with his book long forgotten, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that you have an hour before you guys have to leave.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

#✰ ― meau's inbox ! #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x plus size reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader #fanfiction #fluff #bimbo reader #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer cm #spencer reid cm #spencer criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfiction

[grandlinedreams]

|| [AS!reader Masterlist]

|| warnings: as!reader, semi reader-centric from Az's viewpoint, more detail to pre-Cauldron meeting, protective Nesta, mentions of previous pieces to this series, little touch of angst, fluff, starfall!fic, mating bond, suggestive, nsfw: piv, unprotected sex (make informed decisions, kids!), soft sex, fingering]

The first time Azriel meets you, you're human. Painfully mortal but beautiful, even for the wary way you watch him from beside your sisters.

He thinks you may orbit closer to how Elain views it all, frightened rather than combative, no teeth on display like Nesta. But you do not shy away, nor do you lash out ㅡ you simply watch. You don't speak, but the protective shift of Nesta, other side of your fair coin, says enough.

He hears you for the first time, however, before they depart. You stand a few feet away, watching him before your lips part.

"For what it's worth," you tell him, "Feyre looks happier now. Happier than she ever was with us." You pause. "I'm glad."

The second time that Azriel sees you, it's as you're being thrown into the Cauldron. You fight much like your sisters, but you still go under ㅡ and reemerge as something you'd never wanted to be.

And just like that, you're launched into Azriel's life with all the force and grace of a shooting star.

"Guess what?"

From the way Cassian is grinning at him, Azriel isn't sure that he wants to know. There are a thousand reasons for him to be looking like that, all amused mischief as his eyes gleam.

"What," he says, weary as Cassian throws an arm around his shoulders.

"Mor told [Name] about how Starfall is coming up," his brother says and while his tone is conversational, there's smug edge to it that makes Azriel want to punch him.

"And?" He prompts, pulling free of Cassian's grip to avoid giving into that temptation.

"Come on," Cassian goads, "it'd be the perfect time to tell her about the mating bond." When Azriel tenses, Cassian gives him a look. "Everyone knows, Az. We can all tell."

The Illyrian doesn't blush outright, but color blooms a little on his cheeks as he counters roughly, "Everyone but [Name]."

Cassian's smile dims. "Well, yeah. But if you told herㅡ"

"No." Azriel's tone is quiet but sharp. "I won't do that to her." He won't force you, refuses to. You've already had so much taken from you, decided for you ㅡ he won't be the one to add more.

He's content with what he has with you now, truly ㅡ even though there have been several instances this last week alone where he's wanted to do nothing but kiss you.

He's waited this long, after all ㅡ what's a little more?

Despite being your twin, it isn't often that Nesta indulges in anything particularly affectionate with you ㅡ so when she offers to braid your hair for Starfall, you accept.

Sitting down in the chair before the vanity in your room, you watch her pluck your brush from the counter before you speak.

"Hey, Nes?" You wait for her soft sound of acknowledgement. "You and Cassian are mates, right? Like Feyre and Rhysand?"

"Yes," she answers slowly, watching you in the mirror ㅡ trying to figure out what you're trying to get at as she sets the brush down and begins finger combing through your hair. "Why?"

Your gaze drops from hers to your fingers, brow furrowing in thought about how to tread forward. "...What...what did the bond feel like?"

Her fingers still in your hair for a moment, and you can feel her gaze on you. Weighing, assessing ㅡ wondering why you're asking. Your gaze doesn't leave your hands. The fingers through your hair resume, sectioning it out.

"I don't know how to put it," she says quietly, quieter than you've ever seen your sister be as she begins plaiting your hair. You lapse into silence, watching her. For all her sharp edges, she's just as beautiful as she's always been ㅡ and you understand why Cassian loves her as fiercely as he does.

She sweeps the braid off your neck, winds it into an elaborate halo the same shade as her own ㅡ pinned into place by a handful of pearl-head pins.

"Like coming home," Nesta finally says, and your eyes lock. "It felt like coming home."

In the countless centuries that he's been alive, Azriel genuinely doesn't think he's ever seen anything as beautiful as you are.

You turn as he approaches, and he forgets how to breathe for a second, heart stuttering in his chest. Silhouetted against the night sky, your dress shimmers like liquid starlight ㅡ but his eyes flick to your earrings, the necklace that rests against your collarbone. Both are deep blue ㅡ the same shade as his siphons, his Starfall gift to you.

He tries not to read into it, even for the way it sends his heart beating faster at the idea of the subtle claim to you.

"There you are," you say as he approaches, "I was waiting for you."

"I was looking for you," he counters, smile tugging at his lips as you answer with your own, and when he reaches the railing of the balcony, you slip to stand beside him. "Not one for parties?"

"Not really," you admit. It'd taken a hearty glass of wine from Mor to keep you from changing your mind and hiding in your room ㅡ and even now, the slow sweep of Azriel's eyes over you makes nerves buzz beneath your skin.

Turning away for a moment, you pluck the neatly wrapped parcel from beside you and present it to him, trying to keep your voice steady. "This is for you."

Azriel blinks and then reaches to take it from you, paper crinkling beneath his fingers. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you say, trying not to think of the other parcel still on your bed, neatly tied with a bow. Instead, you busy yourself with watching as Azriel tugs the paper free carefully, popping the box open.

It's a sheath. Made of dark to match his fighting leathers, polished metal clasps wink dully in the light, and words are tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

"It's for Truth-teller," you say, resisting the urge to wring your hands, "I saw some like it at a shop and went in to ask if it'd be possible to make one custom."

Hope sparks in Azriel's veins, sings at the fact you had it made especially for him. "It's beautiful," he murmurs. "Thank-you."

Relief floods you, but you're not done yet. You exhale softly, steeling yourself. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

Azriel stills.

"I'm still adjusting to all of...this," you say, gesturing vaguely, "but it's been easier for me, because of you. I appreciate what you've done for me. And I ㅡ I'm not sure if I really understand the whole concept of mates, but.." You can feel his attention on you, unfaltering as you force yourself to meet his eyes. "You make me feel safe in ways nobody else has, and I ㅡ I love you, Azriel."

Azriel stares at you. And for one horrifyingly too-still moment, you think he's going to reject you. That you're wrong, that the pull you've felt has been all you ㅡ and then he's kissing you.

His hands, scarred and just as beautiful as the rest of him, cup your face gently as you lean into him with wordlessly eager curl of your own fingers into his shirt.

Idly, Azriel notes that the stars have begun their yearly descent, but neither it nor the sweet strains of music matter when your lips are so soft against his.

"We are," he murmurs against your mouth when he finally convinces himself to pull away, wiping at the tears that slip from your eyes. "Mates. I've known for a while."

You blink up at him. "How long have you known?"

He thumbs at the soft plush of your cheek. "Since that first time I took you for a flight at night."

Your lips tremble. "Oh," you say. "Oh."

And then you're crying again, and Azriel is all too happy to kiss every single tear away.

If he died right now, he'd die content.

You're against him in the way he's only allowed himself to dream about, face tucked into his neck and breathing steady, heartbeat a perfect match for his.

Gone is your dress, draped against a chair in your room, swapped for the comfort of a sweater of his, black material that drapes to your mid thigh and wreaths you in his scent. The earrings and necklace have stayed, and he'd be lying if he said it doesn't feed into that instinctive, territorial need.

"Still have something for you," you mumble, half-asleep lilt to your tone that makes him squeeze you to him tighter before he relents, letting you pull away from him.

"You're going to spoil me," he says, and you huff a soft laugh.

"Maybe you deserve to be," you answer with a gentle tug to that bond, one that he answers in kind. You return with a small box, presenting it to him with the glimmer of starlight in your eyes as he sits up.

The ribbon wound around it is also blue, a touch that makes his lips quirk before he's opening it. Nestled in the middle is a tiny tart of flaky crust and mixed berries, sugar sprinkled carefully over it.

"I was told that I had to offer you food to show that I accepted the bond," you say, quiet as you watch him pull the tart from the box. "Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks?"

Azriel blinks. "You made this?"

You nod. "Before everything," you say, voice quiet, "when we were still...I used to sneak down to the kitchen and watch the cooks."

Azriel brings the tart to his lips. It's sweet, the crust crisp ㅡ but more than that, he lives for the way your eyes light up, the happiness that vibrates down the bond and magnifies his own.

He swears he'll do whatever he has to in order to keep seeing that beautiful smile of yours.

"Come here," he murmurs, opens his arms for you as you crawl back onto the bed to fold yourself back against him ㅡ and then his fingers are under your chin, tilting your head up for a kiss.

Kissing Azriel is something that you're absolutely certain that you'll never get tired of. The kiss deepens, and he tastes of berries and sugar, making your head spin more than wine ever has.

The creep of his fingertips against your bare legs makes you shiver and press into him, soft noise leaving your lips. Azriel's hands curl against your legs for a moment before he's kissing you harder, a little rougher ㅡ and then he's turning, pressing you into your bed as his mouth leaves yours.

The work of his teeth against your pulse makes you jolt with a soft moan, and you're squirming by the time he pulls away to look at his handiwork, pupils almost engulfing his iris. "Beautiful," he rasps, and you reach to pull him back against you.

Your fingers slip beneath his shirt to span against toned muscle and warm skin, delighting in every twitch and shiver you get as you explore.

There are slots in it to allow his wings, and you slip your hands free so that he can remove his shirt before you're touching him again. Your fingers trace the dark whorls of ink over his shoulders, following the delicate curls until he's pinning your arms above your head.

"If you keep touching me like that," he tells you, "I'm going to lose my mind."

Slotted between your legs, you can feel the hard press of him against your inner thigh, and he groans when you arch into him.

One hand keeps your wrists above your head as the other shoves the material of his sweater up, pulling until he's tossing it over the edge of the bed.

The soft sound he gets when he palms at your breast makes him wonder if he can come from just your noises alone ㅡ and then he's mouthing at your ribs, kissing against your navel and then back up to your lips.

The kiss is deceptively sweet for how he pairs it with the slip of his hand between your legs, groaning at the abundant arousal that wets his fingers.

A choked moan leaves your lips as he slides a finger into you, the pulsing clamp of your walls around the intrusion as your brow knits, hips jerking against the exploratory thrust of his digit, soon joined by a second.

You pant as he works you open, the curl and spread of Azriel's fingers making you writhe as pleasure pools in your lower belly.

Azriel doesn't miss a thing, taking in every little twitch of your body, the sounds that you make ㅡ committing it all to memory. It's all far better than what he'd imagined, and his name has never sounded better than when it spills from your lips as you tighten around his fingers.

He eases you through the pleasure that sweeps over you, murmuring such soft praise into your skin that your chest aches. His fingers slip out of you, your whine of protest cut short by the way he kisses you soundly.

There's the gentle coax of your legs to part them a little further ㅡ and then he's bare against you, nudging at your slick folds before he sinks into you.

Light sparks at your fingertips, calmed by the slot of Azriel's fingers between yours, pushing them down into the bed beside your head as his hips roll against yours.

Azriel takes his time with you. He keeps his pace steady and languid, the creak of the bed beneath you and your shared moans a quiet symphony he wants to hear for eternity.

Your pleasure crests a second time with the warmth of his mouth at your breast and this time you take him with you, the hot spill of him making you whine his name ever so sweetly.

He takes you two more times after that, finishing with you splayed out over him, your backdrop the night sky beyond your window as you put all the stars to shame.

#ㅡmine. #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #az x reader #i'm going to bed now i'm tired

[bluetimeombre]

──•~❉᯽❉ Third times the charm

Tom and you met over zoom whilst auditioning for your roles in the ballad of songbirds and snakes. Instant attraction and the chemistry was off the charts, everyone could see it, even you two fools. In every interview you did, as co-stars, as best friends and finally, as a couple…

(from me: hi, sorry, I’m dying for Tom Blyth content so I made so myself. I can't bring myself to write y'/n so i'm just going with 'you.' But I wrote it so you're british, oops. This is also to make up for choosing timmy in the 'call it what you want to' series, for the tom girlies, enjoy!)

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

' How well do the stars of Ballad of songbirds and snakes know each other? - Vanity Fair. '

Tom, you and Josh sat together in the Vanity Fair studio. While Tom kept his cards close to his chest (literally), you and Josh waited anxiously. You were sure you would win though, even Josh was sure you would win. Tom and you had spent almost every day together all year. People in the studio- who had only caught a ten minute glimpse of your friendship- knew your souls were made together.

'First question,' said Tom, pulling the cards back further. 'What is my biggest fear?'

Josh slapped his knee in frustration and you slumped in your chair, laughing to yourself. You must know, surely. 'Mine is gonna be, probably, a little bit more shallow,' said Josh before you could even make a guess.

You rose your brows focusing on a specific point on the floor. 'Shallow?'

Tom rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. His lips were tilted in a fond smile at her concentration. 'You ok?' he laughed, 'you know this- you've got this.'

'No, I do know this, you've told me,' you say.

'You've told her?' gasped Josh.

'I've probably told you!' said Tom. He seemed completely absent minded over the fact he was still holding onto your shoulder, massaging it gently.

'Ok, I think it's- ironically- snakes. That's my guess.' Finally, you breath and cross your legs over.

'Interesting. Josh?' he asked, taking his hand from you. (Maybe eagle eyed fans would see the way his hand flexed at his side, just under the chair. And maybe twitter would blow up with the Mr Dracy like move.)

'I was gonna say mountain lions.'

You and Tom laughed. 'That's more shallow?'

'In what way is that more Shallow?' Tom laughed.

Josh gesture wildly to you. 'I thought you were gonna say something more conceptual.'

'Oh sorry,' you apologise.

Josh leant back on his chair. 'Yea, you should be.'

Tom finished writing on the card. 'So, it was my childhood fear, which I've obviously gotten over but it was-' he turned the card, revealing his scribble. 'Snakes.'

'Yes!' you cheered. 'I knew it!'

'I think it's because I used to watch a lot of Indiana Jones as a kid and because he was afraid of snakes, I think it transferred on to me,' he explained.

'Makes sense,' you shrugged.

'Cool people are afraid of snakes,' Tom agreed.

'And mountain lions,' added Josh, causing your cheeks to heat up with laughter. There was probably nobody who could be so nonchalant in how he makes you laugh.

'Point to you!' cheered Tom, holding up his hand. Quickly you high-fived him and held his hand for a flickering moment before moving on.

'What is my go-to karaoke song?'

You were safe to say, gob-smacked. You swivel in your seat, eyes wide. 'You have a go-to karaoke song?'

He stares at you, just as shocked at your surprise. 'We all do.'

'We do?' you asked. 'Then what the hell is Josh's?' you turn to him, curious.

'9 to 5, Dolly Parton,' he said, seriously. But even that got you cracking up.

'I expect one of you to know this,' said Tom, scribbling his song choice.

'Oh, no pressure then,' you said.

'We went to karaoke all the time.'

'Yes but I don't remember all the song,' you fold your arms over your chest, chewing down on your lips.

'Oh no,' Josh hunched over and you pat his back, mumbling to yourself. 'I feel like- I wanna say it was some punk-rock thing.'

'Do you want a clue?' Tom offered.

'Yes!' Josh.

'No!' You.

'Ok, not then,' said Tom, deciding.

'Wait, no, that's not fair,' Josh complained, 'I want a clue.'

Tom shrugged, holding out his arms. 'Boss said.'

'Yea I don't know why I said that,' you laugh, still thinking. You remember him singing to you, in your trailers or hanging out on set. He or you would strum a guitar and sing together. But karaoke?

'Mambo number 5,' Josh announced.

'Mambo number 5,' Tom checked.

Your brows scrunched up. 'That's punk rock?'

Josh looked at you, then remembered what he was saying. 'No, i'm gonna change mine to all the small things.'

'Ok, your guess?' asked Tom, nudging you.

'Oh I don't know,' you shrug, 'Sexy back, Justin Timberlake.'

'Close!'

'I was close?' you gasp, jumping up in your seat.

'It was,' he shows the card. 'Senorita, Justin Timberlake.'

You and Josh laughed together.

'I don't think I ever heard you sing that!' Josh argued.

'We definitely did, definitely.'

Josh shook his head, body shaking with laughter. 'I don't think I even know the words to the song.'

Tom shifted in his seat, changing cards. 'That's the point of Karaoke, they're up on the screen'

You turn to him, face screwed up and holding onto his knee. 'That's not the point of karaoke babe,' you said solemnly. It was a joke between the cast, how often you called people babe. As a brit. Sometimes you even said it in a Gemma Collins way.

'Anyway, half a point to you!'

You fist pump the air while Josh complains loudly. Whilst bickering, Tom moved on and had to repeat the question.

'What is my favourite mode of New York transportation?' he asked.

You chuckled to yourself, rubbing your head. 'That is the funniest question ever.'

Tom scoffed, his lips curling up. 'How is that a funny question?'

'I've just never known transportation to come up in one of our conversations. Imagine meeting someone and being like 'hey, guess what? my favourite mode of transport is...''

Josh laughed at the hurt look on Tom's face and your own sarcasm.

'Oh yea, what is it then?'

'Your motorcycle,' you said obviously.

'Well, you knew it didn't you,' he pointed out. The two of you bickering like a married couple. Even the crew behind the scene were blushing at you two and laughing.

'I didn't get to guess!' erupted Josh.

Tom and you laughed, holding onto each other and apologising to him.

Josh leant back in his chair, throwing his leg over his knee. 'Ok so motorcycle but i'm gonna go the extra mile and say- I think it's a Honda.'

Tom calmed down, wiping tears of laughter before showing the camera his answer. 'It is motorcyle but Josh is wrong, it's not a Honda so the point goes to you.'

You pat yourself on the back while Josh looks into the camera.

'This is what happens when you give 110%. Is this the example we want to set?'

Tom rests his hand on your back, un-consciously rubbing it. 'Ok so, point to you and Josh gets ... three quarters of a point.'

You nod your head. '75%. Have you got any points?'

Josh glared at you. He then noticed Tom's hand resting on your back. 'Why are you comforting her? i'm the loser.'

You clicked your tongue, pushing him. It was lucky you didn't notice how Tom blushed, turning back to his cards and made a mental note to keep his hands to himself.

The three of you continued down the questions:

'If I weren't an actor, what profession would I be?' Tom

'What are you? writing down a novel there?' You

'You'd definitely work with mountain lions.' Josh

'For some reason I want to say Fire man but that's not it.' You

'What is my coffee order?' Tom

'Oh, I know this, it's the same as mine. Josh, you know this?' You

'Of course not.' Josh

'What is my biggest pet peeve?' Tom

'So many things come to mind.' You

'Am I a grumpy old man to you?' Tom

'Tom has always been so relaxed and easy going, go ahead and put a point down for me.' Josh

For the next question, Tom looked pointedly at you. 'I really hope you get this. What is my hidden talent?'

Josh looked seriously at Tom, only suddenly playing the game. 'I think I know what mine is.'

'I think you should both get this,' he said, writing down the answer.

'Whistling,' you guessed simply.

Tom quipped his lips at you, head moving slightly.

'Well, I was also gonna say whistling,' Josh smirked.

Tom laughed. 'You're so full of shit.'

'I said it first, you're good at whistling. You can whistle like a disney bird,' you said, trying to win more points in flattery.

'Thank you.'

You looked into the camera. 'Tom's actually going to be playing a bird in the new Snow White movie with Rachel Zegler.'

The boys laughed.

Tom nodded, turning around the card. 'The answer is whistling.'

Josh and you shake hands and Tom started to show of his whistling skills, the familiar tune of the hunger games and holding up three fingers.

'I was- that made me nervous,' said Tom shakily.

'Yea, you were shaking,' you said.

Tom reached out for your arm, before remembering before and pulling back. 'I know, did you see my lip quivering.'

'I was nervous for you.'

'Yea, yea, yea,' agreed Tom.

Josh pretended to get out of his seat. 'I should go, i'll leave you guys to it.'

You pulled him back down while Tom moved on, asking the couple final questions. It ended with you earing 6 points, while Josh was at a lousy 2.75. But then, it was yours and Josh's turn to 'flip the script' on Tom. If he got them wrong, you guys got the points so you'd made sure to chose difficult questions.

You just hadn't expected Tom to know everything.

'Tom.'

'Yes,' he stared intently, ready for anything.

'What is my dogs name?' you smirked, thinking he wouldn't remember. Since you were on set and then traveling for press your dog was staying with your family and Tom had only met him once or twice.

'Easy. Padfoot.'

Your brows dropped and you turned away, pressing your lips into a tight line.

Tom nudged you. 'Did you think I wouldn't get it?' he asked and his jaw-dropped when you nodded. 'Of course i'd get it, I love your boy.'

'What the hell is a Padfoot?' asked Josh.

'It doesn't matter,' you waved of, trying to distract yourself from blushing. You really didn't think Tom would get it, would care enough to remember.

'It's a Harry Potter thing,' explained Tom. He stretched out his arm so it held onto the back of your chair. Not touching, right.

Josh asked his question. Tom got it right again and you were looking down at your card, wondering if it was hard enough for him.

Tom watched you set the cards down, tuck your chin into your chest and put your hands behind your chair. 'Oh no,' he chuckled.

'There is a piece of jewellery that I always wear. Now obviously i couldn't wear it whilst filming, but I had it kept in my trailer. And after we wrapped it went straight back on. The question is what piece of jewellery is it?'

Josh was laughing and trying to guess himself while Tom panicked. Every day for a year he had been around you. He'd had lunch with you, hung out in your trailer, you'd nap together and laugh together. He's seen you swimming in nothing but a lovely swim suit. He'd held your hands and you guys had even worn each others rings. How could he not know? He was beating himself up about it, all the while you smirked at him. Tom could almost excuse the fact of being a shitty friend to see how giddy it got you.

He tried to peek behind the chair but you shifted. 'Ok I don't think it's a ring because you change up your rings a lot.'

'Ok,' you hum.

Tom pulled at his lip. You weren't hiding your ears so it couldn't be an earing. That's when he remembered. Tom clicked his fingers. 'It's your locket! and it's gold!'

You sit up straight. 'How?!' Tom immediately looked to your neck- or maybe it was closer to your chest- where your locket dangled just under your shirt 'Well, I think we know who knows each other the best!'

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

Some months later, about eight, you and Tom were back at a quiz. The two of you were starring in different things. Tom's series which he stared in, 'Billy the kid' was having it's third and final debut while you staring in a adaptation of 'Malibu Rising' by Taylor Jenkins Reid for Apple Tv.

' The BFF test! ' - Glamour.

'How do you think we're gonna do?' asked Tom.

'That's not even a question Tom, we're gonna do great!' you threw a thumbs up at the camera and Tom copied you with a grin.

'Let's do this shit!' he yelled.

The crew behind the camera gasped and laughed while you hunched over, chuckling. He realised his mistake, how he wasn't supposed to swear and put his hand over his mouth.

'I am so sorry,' he apologised. Only when you caught your breath did you stand up and hold onto him. His arm wrapped around you back, holding you too.

Eventually, once you two had regained yourselves, you were asked how well you think you know each other.

'Pretty well,' you said.

'Very well,' Tom corrected.

'Very well it is, very well it is,' you said.

The crew behind the camera asked when you first met.

'Over zoom,' you said.

Tom nodded. 'it was a chemistry read for hunger games. Coriolanus and Lucy-Grey. You sang an acoustic version of Silver springs and I watched.'

'And the rest is history. Inseparable ever since,' you smile, swaying side to side while Tom watched with a fond smile. 'But seriously, it was a very lovely moment and since then, i've had a best friend in Tom.'

'Aw,' he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder and drawing you in. 'I love this girl,' he told the camera.

Eventually, once the two of you were finished with the introductions they had you stand opposite each other with a small notebook and pen. Your task: to write a compliment about each other.

Tom was already writing down his, page being filled up quickly. 'How much time you got?'

'Done,' you said, closing your notebook.

Tom looked up. 'What?'

'I'm kidding,' you assured him at his shocked and maybe slightly hurt face. 'How are you writing so much?'

'I have a lot to say about you.'

'Sappy.'

'Shut it, you love it.' Tom was focused on writing down, getting all his thoughts and a thousand unsaid words on page. He couldn't tell how you watched him with a smile and a shimmering glimmer in your eyes, but fans could, and they'd deem it the look of love.

After a moment longer of writing, you finished, looking at him. 'Ready?'

Tom finished his sentence and nodded. 'Ready.'

'Ok you go first,' you say.

'No, you go first,' he insists, the two bickering over each other. 'Ladies first.'

'Age before beauty,' you say.

Tom rolled his eyes playfully but held up his notebook. 'This is- this is nerve racking, woah,' he says, laughing.

'No, I know. I'll turn around if that helps,' you go to turn.

Tom grabs your arm. 'No, don't-' he cleared his throat, let you go and started to read. 'You are incredibly talented, that's the first one. Your acting, your voice, it's unbelievable and every time I watch you at your work, i'm in awe. As well as that, you are so dedicated to your craft, whether it's flying back and forth for your movies or not giving up until you've nailed a scene, you just- you give 110% every time and it's inspiring to watch. Not only do you make me want to be a better actor, but a better man-'

He read from his notebook, flicking through the pages as you watched, mouth covered and tears welling up in your eyes.

'You're insanely intelligent, you have such a unique style that is so you. You give confidence to others and always bring the best out in them. You're witty, you're hilarious, absolutely hilarious, I don't laugh with anyone the way I laugh with you. And you are just the most beautiful girl in the world.' Only when he had finished did he look up and see you wiping your eyes.

'Christ,' you mutter, turning away as the crew laughed.

Tom wrapped you in a bear hug, laughing and rocking you back and forth. 'You're not suppose to cry.'

'How can I not?!' you mumble into his chest. 'Ok.' you took a deep breath, calming yourself before standing back from him and looking down at your own notes. 'Well mine just seem so rubbish now,' you joke toward the camera.

'Tom. You're a talented actor. One of the most talented i've ever met, or ever seen. Watching you on the hunger games, I mean, I was speechless half the time. You're the kindest and sweetest man I know. It's no secret i've always said, men, they suck but you, you changed that. You, single-handily restored my faith in men,' you say, creating a laugh through the studio and him. 'Er, i've just listed compliments, funny, caring, talented, gorgeous, beautiful, so-so hot- I mean, the list goes on but it's not gonna be anything like you gave me.'

'It's perfect, thank you.'

You gesture to him, looking in the camera. 'He's a gentleman.'

Your next task was harder, looking into each other eyes for one minute.

'Is this gonna be like, a staring contest,' you wonder out loud as the two of you already keep your eyes on each other.

'I hope not, my eyes sting already,' says Tom. For a moment, the two of you are just there staring at each other. Your hands behind your back, his at his side as small smiles play at your lips.

'Your eyes are so blue, christ, i've never just stared at them like this before,' you compliment. 'Add that to my list.'

'Are you crying? You look like you're going to cry again?' asked Tom, peering closer at you.

'That's just me, i'm always in a state of verge of tears.'

He laughs, but keeps his eyes open and on you. After a minute, you two finally looked away, rubbing at your eyes. 'I think we were having a staring contest then,' he said.

'Yea, yea, yea, my eyes hurt.'

There was a couple extra challenges, trying to say the same word at the same time (you guys failed every time except last where you both said 'hunger games') and to mirror each others move. The last one, is a trust fall.

'Send it!' Tom pretended to fall back immediately as you lunged to catch. He didn't fall but laughed at your readiness. 'Send it!'

'Stop!' you yell.

'Ok, for real this time, you ready?' he asked, holding his arms over his chest and glancing back at you.

'I'm so scared!'

Tom looked at the camera. 'Why are you scared? i'm the one falling!'

'Ok, on the count of three,' you say, holding your arms out.

'Are you counting up or down?'

'Down. Ok, three... two...one!'

Tom fell back and you held him up, pushing his back. The two of you stumbled a bit causing Tom's eyes to widen, but you had him.

'You are heavier than you look,' you say. 'All that pure muscle.'

Tom struggled back up and then it was your turn. 'On the count of three?' he asked, arms out.

'No!' you whine. 'I hate this!'

'Trust me. Don't you trust me?'

You have your hands tucked to your side. You look into the camera. 'This is gonna send me right back to therapy.'

Tom laughs behind you but reaches over to hold onto your shoulders. 'C'mon, you can do this, i'll slowly ease you back.'

You squeeze your eyes shut and purse your lips, stifling a hum. 'That's cheating.'

Tom tuts, 'No it's not: now-' gently he held onto your shoulders and-bending at the knees- he gently eased you down, until he was crouching and until you were rocking on your heels. You took a deep breath as he held you back up. Your arms were still over your chest as your body wracked with a laugh.

'That was so dumb.'

Tom still had you in his hold, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

A year later and finally, the fans dreams came true. When the video was released, fans went crazy, thinking it was fake or a mashup of clips put together. Instead, it was true. A very real video of the two of you doing a 'couples quiz'.

'Hello!' Tom waved at the camera, before gesturing between the two of you. 'We are here today to do the-'

'Couples interview!' you finish. 'Years in the making it would seem,' you added, slapping your cards over your knee.

Tom looked at his cards. 'What is my first name?'

'Tom Keir Blyth,' you answer easily, 'not Thomas. Against popular contradiction.'

He laughed, knowing you'd call him Thomas to annoy him if you ever bickered. 'Not Thomas.'

'Call him Thomas and he'll break up with you.'

'That hasn't happened!' he told the camera, whacking you playfully with the cards a you sat across from him. 'Ok, moving on, where did I grow up?'

'Birmingham,' you say, in your best Birmingham accent.

'What was my fist film role?' he asked, smirking at the question.

You sigh, throwing your head back. 'Ok so... I don't know if it was your very first one, or maybe it was like, the second or something but you were in Robin Hood, and you played feral child number three.'

'That's exactly what I have on my card,' he said, showing it off to you.

'I'm the best girlfriend,' you sing.

Tom laughed, marvelling at you for a moment before moving onto the next question. 'Oh ok, where was our first kiss?'

You shrug, thinking it obvious. 'On set.'

Tom looked back down to his cards. 'Oh yea, I should've specified- our first kiss like as a couple, or just not on set.'

You laugh. 'Ok, cool, I was gonna say, that's an easy one. So of set, I guess, it was my hotel room. In New York, yea.'

'See, I had down-'

'You had something else down?' you gasp, leaning over in your chair.

'Yea. I had it down as the picnic, when you came to see me on set of Billy,' he explained. He remembered the day fondly. You and him, riding horses into the sandy terrain, taking a picnic down and one of his breaks and rolling around the blanket, laughing and digging fingertips into each other. Lips clashing in the heat of sun.

'But we- ok fine, that was our first kiss.'

'We did, kiss in the hotel room, you're right,' he insisted.

'No, but if you're counting first kiss as a couple then you're right, the picnic.'

'No you should still get the point because that kiss does count.'

Your exchange could've gone on forever if someone behind the camera hadn't spoken up, saying how adorable you two were, causing blushes from both of you before he moved on.

'What is my favourite thing to bring with me when I travel?' he asks.

'Me,' you say, without faltering.

'Correct!' he chucked the card behind him.

'Was it actually?'

Tom nodded. 'Yea. Well number one was you and then the second was my motorbike key.'

You roll your eyes. 'Of course it was. Thank you for putting me above the key at least.'

'Always, darling, always. What is my favourite jacket to wear?' he asked.

You thought about it, carefully and for a while. 'You don't have many but I'm trying to think which you wear the most.'

'I think you'll know it, you should get it.'

You raise your head to the ceiling, taking it more seriously than probably needed. He concentrated on you, wondering how hard you were thinking. 'The thing is- i'm thinking practicality. So like, that would be your motorbike jacket. But the one that I see you in most, and that I wear the most, is like your long, black jacket?'

'I had my motorbike jacket down, so half a point.'

'It crossed my mind!' you defended.

'It did, yes. So 50% of a point.'

You laugh. 'Not 75%.

'Who was my first celebrity crush?' he asked.

'Me,' you answer sarcastically.

Tom rose his card, covering his grin. 'Do you want to try again?'

'No,' you say. You knew what it was, you were taking the joke from him.

'Please?' he asked quietly.

You laugh at how wide his eyes were. 'Your first celebrity crush was Jennifer Anniston, ok.'

'Correct. But if I knew you back then, it would've been you.'

'Thanks, babe.'

'Ok, so I feel like you got pretty much every one of them,' said Tom, tucking his cards away.

'I feel like I did too, how ready do you feel Tom?' you asked.

Teasingly, he leant over, showing his forehead. 'See that? not a sweat. I've got this. Gimme some.'

'What are my dogs names?' you ask.

'Your oldest one is Padfoot, your youngest, the puppy dog is Moony.'

'Correct. Easy one. Ok, next, what is my favourite city?'

Tom's face dropped. 'That got harder so much quicker.'

'What? I thought this was easy.'

'Yea but it's between two. London or New York.'

'Well you've got them. I'd say right now it's New York though. Just because you're there,' you say jokingly.

'We're such a good couple.'

'The best. Lightning round. Favourite food?'

'Pizza.'

'Yes, favourite taylor swift album?'

'Folklore.'

'Easy. What is my favourite bag?'

Tom paused. 'It's a tote, your tote. Is it your waterstones one?'

Sadly, you shake your head. 'To be fair it's a new one i've got, it's my 'I heart new york one.'

Tom groaned. 'Of course it is, how did I not get that? I was literally with you when you brough it.'

'I have it with me today.'

'You do! oh my god, quickly move on before I get annoyed at myself.'

'Oh ok,' you grin down at the question and then pull a face, wondering yourself.

Tom watches, laughs and puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it affectionately. 'Are you alright? what's going on?'

'No, sorry, i'm just thinking about how to word this,' you pause and then, almost as if you weren't aware you were doing it, you hold onto his hand and ask the question. 'What is my favourite thing that you wear?'

Tom's expression matches your puzzled one. 'That I wear?'

'Yes. And I want you to take your time, think about it because you know it. And if you don't get this, we might be over,' you tell him.

Tom's jaw drops and he leans back in his chair, thinking. 'Don't say that!'

'Ok, it was a joke, sorry. But you do know this.'

Tom looks down at himself, but it was a new shirt and there was nothing special about these pants. The shoes were nice but you'd never cared for shoes. He checked his rings. You liked rings and you especially liked his rings but that couldn't have been it. 'Oh!' he almost kicked himself for not getting it sooner. 'Is it my- is it the necklace? he asks, pulling it from under his shirt.

'Yes!' you cheer, throwing the card over your shoulder and reaching over to high five him.

'I've never been so stressed in my life,' he laughed.

'So the necklace-' you start to explain to the camera as tom holds it out proudly, showing every crew and every camera as you laugh and smile at him. Never had you felt so in love. 'The necklace he wears all the time is the initial from the first letter of my name, just like-'

'Just like the Taylor Swift song,' finishes Tom, knowing how much you love it. Even now, you're smiling with teary eyes.

You had not brough it for him, but on your first anniversary Tom surprised you with it. You cried, wept. It was the first time you felt truly seen.

'I think you should sing it,' prompted Tom.

'I'm not singing it!'

'Go on! I love your voice!'

'No!'

'For me?' he asked.

You roll your eyes but don't really sing the song, you more say it: 'I want to wear his initials on a chain around my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me, but obviously, it's you wearing mine so...'

'Thank you for watching our couples quiz!' Tom waves to the camera.

'All in all I think we're couple goals, yea?' you check.

'Oh, absolutely!'

And the show was all done, with you two waving. But the camera's didn't turn off quick enough to catch how Tom held your hand and kissed the inside of your palm.

Yea, absolutely in love.

#coriolanus snow #the hunger games #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fanfiction #coryo #tom blyth x you #fame dr #tom blyth x yn

[rorywritesjunk]

All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me

It was Buggy's turn to do your makeup.

Rating: R because the girlfriend can't keep her hands to herself or keep her dirty mind from wandering.

Warning: None really, just suggestive themes. Buggy has a bun because I can't help myself, and chest hair. Mentions of nipple piercings on Buggy because why not? And Buggy is a damn tease as well.

A/N: Sequel to the makeup fic. I wrote two versions of this before deciding the second one was more on track with how the original went. It's inspired by a tag from @sporadicthingcollection from the first fic. Title comes from "Closer" by Tegan & Sara.

Part One is here!

The bath had been comforting, warm, and much needed. This time it wasn't Buggy having a bad day and needing some pampering, it was you. Between losing half your groceries from ripped bags to a pot of water boiling over on the stove and making a huge mess, your foot had also been run-over by Cabaji on his unicycle while you were trying to help some of the performers literally find their marks. It wasn't the first time your foot was a victim to the unicycle, but in the chaos of the day, you didn't think to wear shoes and well, the tread-mark shaped cuts on your foot was a reminder to do so next time.

You toweled off and pulled your robe on, wincing as you limped over to the bed to sit. Buggy was sitting at his vanity, only in his underwear as he unwinded from the day as well. His hair was up in a messy bun, his back to you as he wiped away the day's makeup. It was always a fascinating sight to you, and you knew you were lucky to see him in a near vulnerable state like this.

He rummaged through the drawers of the vanity for something before looking up at the mirror and seeing you reflected back at him on the bed. He smirked, the red around his mouth still prominent, making the smirk appear larger than it was.

"See something you like?" He teased. You flushed at being caught staring. 

"Always." You shot back as you continued watching him, a thought coming to your mind. It was dumb to ask. You both were going to bed in the next few hours, but you didn't know when a better time to ask would be. "Buggy, can I ask you something?"

"Depends." He replied as he looked back at himself in the mirror. "What is it?"

"Um… could you do my makeup?" You asked. "It's just… I like seeing how you do yours and… thought maybe you'd be able to do mine? But I get it if you don't want to, you know, I don't think I really have the face for it."

He pushed his chair away from the vanity and stood up. He didn't say anything as he turned to face you and crossed the room in just a few steps. You wondered if you offended him somehow by the way he grabbed your face when he approached you, staring down at you before smashing his lips against yours in a surprising kiss. You gasped when he pulled away, head spinning as you wondered what the fuck brought that on.

"Thought you'd never ask." He grinned. "Let's get started."

He went back to the vanity and started rummaging through drawers, piling whatever his findings were on the top. You wondered if you should even bother to change into clothes since you would likely end up naked by the end anyway, it would be less of a hassle to stay in your robe.

He came back over a few minutes later and gestured for you to scoot into the middle of the bed. Oh, he was going to do it on the bed, like how you did for him. You scooted to the middle of the bed and grabbed a pillow to stick under your head before making sure your robe stayed closed. He crawled on top of you, knees on either side of your body as you moved your hands to rest over your chest. He didn't need to pin your hands down because you weren't going to grope him like he did to you every time you did his makeup.

Once he settled on top of you and you realized the view you would have, you suddenly realized that oh, you can see why he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Sure, you had been under him plenty of times, but not like this. For one thing, his thighs were right there. Of course you've been between them, looking up at him from the ground as you sometimes knelt down in front of him while he sat in his captain's chair, his pants undone as your mouth su-

"Babe." He snapped you back to reality. Your face was red. "You good?"

"Y-Yes." You replied as your fingers twitched, needing to be touching something to keep you focused. He seemed to notice and grabbed them, placing them both on top of his thighs, the last place you wanted to be touching right then because you knew them so well. You knew how they felt under you whenever you were straddling his lap, whether it was in bed or his chair, naked, riding him until-

He cleared his throat and you up at him again, turning redder in the face.

"Behave." He teased as he held up two eyeliner pencils near your eyes. He studied them for a moment before tossing one aside and uncapping the other. He then leaned down, face close to your own as he carefully moved the pencil along your bottom eyelid, looking at you but not really. The urge to pull him down for a kiss was there, and you thought the possibility of losing an eye would be worth it if you got to kiss him right then.

He was finished quicker than you thought and kissed your forehead. You realize you didn't specify how to do your makeup. Was he going to do something elaborate or simple? Your fingers tapped nervously against his thighs as you started to wonder if this was a good idea. You had worn makeup a few times in your younger years but it never looked right, so you gave up trying to learn how to do it on yourself.

But damn were you glad to have asked him to do it. It was a different kind of intimacy having him leaning over you, an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a brush in the other as he whispered for you to close your eyes, which you did without hesitation. Your hands stayed on his thighs, moving up and down his thighs slowly, fingers crooking to drag your nails over his skin. You didn't really pay attention to how much you were moving your hands until you felt the fabric of his boxers against your knuckles. You decided to push your luck as you flattened your hands back down and began to slide them up his boxers slowly.

"Babe!" He yelped as he swatted at your hand. "Hey!"

You cracked one eye open and grinned. "Sorry, didn't realize what I was doing."

"Liar." He scolded, looking scandalized by your actions. "I'll sit on you like you do me if you don't watch it."

"Aw, but Buggy!" You whined. "I can't help it!"

"Watch it." He warned as he held the brush threateningly. "Everything else is fair game right now but that. Just wait."

You pouted up at him as you let your hands move to his waist instead, your thumbs running along the waistband of his boxers. He seemed fine with that and you closed your eyes again as he began brushing the eyeshadow over your lids.

It was just hard not to touch him. Before you knew it, you were sliding your hands up his sides, to his chest, your thumbs brushing over his nipples, resisting the urge to tug on the piercings he had there. You felt him flinch when you touched him, so of course you did it again before running your fingers through his chest hair, hands moving up to his neck so your arms could wrap around him. He cleared his throat and you opened your eyes. 

"Okay, I gotta keep you still." He said. "You're getting too handsy."

"But Buggyyyyyy!" You pouted up at him. "I can't help it, really. Just… fuck, you should see what I'm seeing right now. You look so damn beautiful like this."

He blushed but said nothing as he set the eyeshadow aside. He reached back to unhook your arms from around his neck, pushing them above your head suddenly and holding them against the mattress. He held them down with one hand while the other moved to your cheek, stroking your flushed skin softly.

"And if you could see how you looked right now, babe, underneath me like this…” He trailed off as he tightened his grip on your wrists, his other hand now sliding down your body, untying your robe, touching your stomach as it moved between your legs. You inhaled sharply, trying to move your legs apart for him, biting back a moan.

And then he pulled his hand back without even touching you.

“Buggy!” You whined. “Why?!”

“We’re not finished yet, babe.” He smirked. “I still have to do your lipstick.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy opla #buggy x you #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x you #one piece #opla buggy #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Under the Weather | Cillian Murphy x Reader

Summary | It's your one-year anniversary with Cillian and he's just finished filming The Party but as the night goes on, you begin to feel feverish and sick. Cillian comes home and takes care of you.

Warnings | fluff lol; age-gap.

Pale Blue Eyes- The Velvet Underground 🎶

word count: 1421

Don't interact if you're a Yvonne hater. This is a completely fictional piece and does not reflect Cillian or his family in reality. Read with the assumption that Cillian is not married and does not have children.

........................................

She started to feel sick around noon, the inklings of fatigue and fever creeping up into her head. She went to dinner with Cillian as she said she would for their one-year anniversary but her pearl earrings felt colder than usual against her feverish skin and she shivered when she had pulled on her dark green dress with the boat neck that exposed her collarbones to the chilly air. Curling her hair was too much, and the heat had left her exhausted and sweaty, even though she was cold. She tightened her green buckled flats and sat up in her chair at the vanity, placing a warm hand against her hot forehead and sighed. She wasn’t sure if she was actually sick or just anxious from the weeks of filming that Cillian had been preoccupied with for The Party. But he was done now and focused on his private life, the life that included her now. 

He was 41 and she was 28, and already the media had a lot to say about their relationship. She was young but not that much so, she’d gone from crappy sitcoms and low-budget movies to blockbuster films and award shows. She was just as relevant as Cillian, though she may be a decade younger. She loved Cillian and the way that he helped her with her rehearsals and her anxieties. She confided in him and spilled her guts and he listened, his eyes gentle and validating. He was quiet and reserved when she had first met him on set for Peaky Blinders as one of Micheal Gray’s love-interests. She was almost never in the same scene as him so they never had a moment to speak until an interview that she was invited to attend with the main cast. She was seated next to him on the raised platform in front of the cameras when the clip keeping the back of her dress together broke and nearly unraveled in front of everyone. Without hesitation, CIllian had reached over and pulled the two ends of fabric together, keeping her dress from falling down her chest. He kept his hand against her back for the remainder of the interview, and still added to the discussion and smiled when prompted to. When the cameras stopped, he helped her get up from her seat, still holding her dress together and helped her off. He only left once a crew member had successfully pinned her dress, giving her a kind smile and a nod.

And now here they were. 

She checked Cillian’s watch on the bedside table and hurried to finish getting ready before he arrived at 7. He’d made reservations at a small restaurant in Dublin where he knew the owners and their children. Smoothing down her short emerald green dress, she hurried down the stairs to the first floor of the walkup she shared with Cillian in Dublin and waited anxiously by the door for the familiar sound of footsteps on the granite steps. She saw his silhouette through the textured glass on the front door and threw it open before he could knock. He was startled but smiled when he saw who was waiting for him. 

“My God, you look lovely darling!” He smiled and closed the door behind him, blocking out the summer breeze. He put each hand on her waist and turned her around slowly to see what she was wearing. He’d finished an interview for The Party and changed into his suit in the dressing room before driving back, so he looked slightly rumpled but unmistakingly beautiful.

“How was the interview?” She asked, her hands clasped around his neck.

“Eh, I’m happy it's all over with ya’ know?” The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. 

He kissed her head but when he pulled away, he frowned down at her. 

“You feel warm.” He put the back of his hand against her cheek and moved it to her forehead, clucking his tongue. “Do you feel alright, love?” 

“I thought I might be getting sick but it's not bad, I can still go.” She waved him off. 

“Ah ah ah, not so fast. I think you have a fever.” He took her hand and led her to the kitchen and picked her up, setting her down gently on the countertop. 

“You mustn’t make such a fuss, Cillian.” She sighed defeatedly, her hands clasped either side of the cold marble countertop.  

“Hush, love.” He rummaged through the medicinal cabinet in the kitchen and retrieved the mercury thermometer that they had bought at a drugstore as a house-warming gift for themselves. “Open your mouth for me,” she complied, touching her tongue to the roof of her mouth, “good girl.” He praised her. 

“This is ridiculous. I feel fine, Cillian!” She mumbled around the thermometer. He rested his arms on either side of her body, his legs planted firmly between her knees. He said nothing but glanced down at his watch every few seconds to check the time. When it was done he pulled the thermometer from her mouth and read it to her. 

“100.3. You’re sick, love.” He laughed softly and placed the thermometer on a folded cloth by the sink to wash later. “Come on.” He spread his arms and she reluctantly hugged him around his shoulders so that he could pick her up. He sighed softly as he arranged her in his arms and climbed the short flight of steps to the second floor. 

“What about the dinner reservations?” She whined into his shoulder, her nose crushed against the soft fabric of his suit. 

“It'll be fine, darling. Let me worry about that.” He passed through the doorway into their bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She squirmed in protest when he went left, going down the stairs quickly. She could hear him moving around the kitchen for a while before coming back up the stairs, a glass of water and Tylenol in his hands. She sat up against the pillows at the headboard and curled her knees into her chest. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave her two of the distinct white chalky pills. 

“Take these.” He ordered softly and waited. 

“Yes, sir.” She grumbled and swallowed the pills, downing them with water. He took the empty glass from her hand and placed it on the nightstand. 

“Let me get you out of these” He unbuckled her shoes and tossed them aside, his hands patting each ankle as he did so. 

“I’m sorry, Cillian.” She whispered, her arms held up in the air in a pitiful request for affection. He leaned over and hugged her. 

“For what, darling?” He furrowed his brow and stroked her hair. 

“For being sick on our anniversary.” She sniffed and fought back childish tears. He pulled away and rubbed his thumb over her feverish cheek. 

“That’s nothing to be sorry for, love. We still get to spend the evening together, right?” He smiled and kissed the top of her head. 

“Ok.” She nodded and allowed him to remove her earrings, sliding the backings off into his hand and returning them to her jewelry box. She turned to the side as his hands found the top of her zipper. As he pulled, her skin tingled with goosebumps all the way down to her tailbone. His hands slid the dress off her shoulders and pulled it over her head. She was naked besides her underwear and sensitive to the cold. Cillian quickly took one of his long sleeve shirts and pulled it down over her head. She slid her arms through the sleeves and curled into his side as he leaned over, resting the dress carefully on the arm of a chair. When he straightened back up, he put one arm around her shoulders and the other one on his stomach. She nestled beneath the sheets and wool blankets beside him and breathed him in. 

As she started to fall asleep, he cradled her in his arms, holding onto her with security and love. He waited patiently as she slept before changing out of his suit. He turned off the lights and applied a cold washcloth to her head as she slept soundly beside him. He laughed softly when her nose was congested and she started breathing through her mouth, drooling slightly on her pillow. He combed his fingers through her hair and kissed the crown of her head into the night before he fell asleep himself, his arms tightly around her.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #the party #cillian x y/n #fluff #cillian fanfic #cillian fluff #fanfiction #under the weather

[kingkatsuki]

He just wants to be good enough for you always🥺

Warnings: fluff, reader has a mum and dad.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

You know how he feels.

It was the same feeling that bubbled inside your tummy when you were meeting his parents for the first time. Feeling silly for being so nervous the minute you stepped through the door as you were welcomed into a fierce hug by Mitsuki. A large photo album strewn over both your laps as Masaru offered you some homemade dorayaki.

“It ain’t the same thing,” He scoffs, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he pulls his tie out of its loop to start all over.

“How is it not the same?” You laugh from your position at your vanity, stroking your clear gloss against your lips as you watch him struggle with his tie again.

“They need to know that I can take care of ya,” He pushes, cursing under his breath when he looped the tie.

There’s something that convinces him that he’ll somehow never be good enough for you. The self-doubt and insecurity that’s plagued him since childhood rears its ugly head for situations like these— situations that have your usually strong and confident boyfriend reduced to that same terrified little boy.

“They know you take care of me, baby.” You turn in your chair to face him.

“I ain’t even number one yet, and they need to believe I’m good enough to look after their little girl?” He drops his tie in exasperation as it sits around his neck.

Standing up from your position at his vanity as you make your way over to him. Cupping his hands in your smaller ones as you lace your fingers together at your sides. Squeezing reassuringly as you practically feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, brows furrowed as you smile up at him.

“They won’t care about any of that, Katsuki.” You coo, feeling how sweaty his palms have become from preparing to meet your parents, “All they’ll care about is that you’re treating me well, and that you’re a good man.”

“A good man that leaves you for weeks at a time.” He scoffs.

It’s always a sore spot in your relationship when Bakugou has to leave for work. The best missions always seem to be the ones that take him further away from home than either of you would like. The biggest boosts to his hero ranking always seem to mean the longer trips, phone calls and FaceTimes at unsociable hours the things that keep you both close. But he always keeps his promise to return back to you safely, little gifts from the destination that reminded you of him.

“You do what you have to do, and I understand so they will too.” You reach your hands up to his forgotten tie. Slowly wrapping the fabric around to begin to loop it, pulling it through as he keeps his crimson gaze on you, “There’s no one else for me, Katsuki. Never will be.”

Bakugou would steal the sun in the sky for you if he could, submerge the entire world into darkness if it meant that only you could see it’s glow. There isn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for you, and if only everyone could see that. The scrutinising tabloid articles and online posts still attack his character, wondering how a man as bold and brash as Dynamight could ever love anyone. But he proves it to you daily, through his words and actions.

You’d found a good one in Bakugou Katsuki, the perfect man. And you’d spend every day fighting his corner if you had to.

“Do you think I should bring that award I got last week? I think it might show your parents that—”

“Katsuki,” You cut off his rambling, shaking your head, “They don’t need to see that to know you’re successful. And I’m pretty sure my mum’s shown an article about that to all of her friends already.”

“I just want them to know that I can look all after ya,” He continues, “Even though my last mission ran over.”

A three week mission had turned into six after Bakugou had discovered the villain he had been tracking down was at the centre of a huge drug ring, the extra three weeks had meant taking down the entire operation but it had meant leaving you alone for Christmas— when he was first supposed to meet them.

“They understood, Kats.”

“I think your ma was pissed.” He scoffs.

“Not as pissed as yours,” You laughed, “She spent the entire evening complaining about it when I dropped off our gifts for them.”

“That old hag,” He shook his head, “She still goes on about that, you know. Doesn’t matter that I jumped up fifty points because of it.”

“No matter what happens— I love you, so they will too.” You smooth your palm along his chest to lay his neatly tied tie down flat against his dress shirt. His hand reaching up to try and tug at the uncomfortable collar as you grin up at him. Standing up on tiptoes to steal a kiss before wiping your gloss from his lips with your thumb, an action that’s halted by him licking his lips to taste the sticky sweetness as he pulls his head back.

“You’re such a dork.” You laugh, shaking your head as you turn around to check your face in the full length mirror.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.” He hums, wrapping his arms around your waist as he settles his chin against your shoulder.

“Yeah, you are.” You smile, resting your hands on his arms as he sways you side to side, “But I hope you’re ready for my mum to grill you about when we’re having kids.”

“Our ma’s together are gonna be a fuckin’ nightmare.” Bakugou groans, hiding his eyes in the curve of your neck as you start laughing.

“I’d expect nothing less for our relationship.” You smiled, “I’m still recovering from your proposal.”

“Oi,” Bakugou’s arms tightened around your waist, “It ain’t my fault that villain ruined the perfect fuckin’ proposal.”

#I never had a nuclear family so I tried😂 #soft bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader

[sillystargirll]

Mommy's good boy

(a mini-sequel to Mommy's milk )

cw: mommy kink, sub konig, tit play, praise kink, oral, very smutty

After that little encounter between you and König finding out he is turned on by lactating from your tits along with a mommy kink, He's been more on edge lately to do it again which today was his lucky day. since he would be coming home from overseas from a mission.

You had sent your child over to your parent's house for a couple days since they really wanted the chance to see their grandbaby and spoil them, your mother had given you a smirk knowing why you wanted to drop off the kid with her and you were just straight up honest, you wanted to spend time with König for a couple of days. your mom said nothing and kissed your cheek making sure you had fun with him.

So here you were it was past 2am nothing out of the ordinary since he always came back late. Soon hours passed as it slowly rolled to 4am You had texted König but he wasn't answering, it was probably due to no service over there you didn't blame him. After all, you guys had a week together without a screaming baby interrupting both of you. you got up from the couch making your way to bed you removed your robe placing it on a chair close to the vanity. climbing onto the bed you pulled the sheets over your body slowly drifting away to sleep.

Half an hour later König walks through the door, turning on the lights of the living room he sets his belongings down carefully making sure he doesn't wake you or his kid up. walking to the kitchen König sees saw the large plate of food wrapped in plastic wrap to protect it and one light on in the kitchen. You always made sure that König had a plate of food waiting for him to come home at a decent time. He heated up what he needed and shoveled all of it in his mouth as quietly as he could.

He could feel his chest rumbling from the moaning. After feeding his stomach, he took a shower, allowing the dirt and grime, dirt, and blood from his body. When he stepped out of the shower, he patched up the minor cuts and scrapes he got throughout his mission.

Quickly going on to check his child the crib was empty, panic set in he quickly and quietly dashed to your shared room with him, finding you asleep he sighed in relief as he saw you there but was still confused about why his kid is not there, sure only you would hold these answers.

he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt along with removing his mask to sleep in before heading to bed. He smiled at you sleeping peacefully, wrapped up in all the covers from the stomach down. you were in a tank top, exposing your beautiful skin. Konig crawled into bed and stared at you for a while. His eyes trailed from the top of your body down to her hip which was covered. He placed a small kiss on your forehead before his attention was drawn to the necklace around their neck. It was of a Heart with its initials on the belly of the heart.

It was small enough not to worry him too much when she fell asleep with it on. Then his eyes trailed more to your breast. It was slightly cold in the room, making your nipples peek through the fabric of the tank top. For some reason, tonight, his mind became fuzzy with the stress of everything. His one goal was to wrap his lips around the nipple to softly suckle until his mind went blank. Keeping his eyes on your face to make sure you were still fast asleep.

All of today's dark, echoing thoughts vanish in the background and allow his mind to suckle on your breast mindlessly. His eyes focused on her breathing, watching for any signs and movement, and he cuddled close to her head, his head under her chin. All you did to move was wrap an arm around him, still sleeping. 

“This is wrong. This is bad, like really bad she is going to hate you !” his mind screamed.  

He wrapped his arm around your, pressing his body as close to you as possible. you still didn’t move. Using the tip of his finger, he grazed the top of the tank top, carefully pulling it down far enough to reveal your nipple. your skin was soft under his touch, your breast large and filled with milk enough for him to cup with both hands comfortable with still spillage between his fingers. It looked so comforting yet arousing, but his lack of erection signaled it to move.

Slowly he wrapped his lips around the nipple, not moving. When he felt your body stiffen in his arms, he tried to pull away. But your hand cupped the back of his head, keeping him in place. your breathing was not heavy, just slow and calm.

He took a tiny suck, waiting for her reaction, but none came. His eyes looked for your facial response, but it was still as peaceful. König began to suckle, not daring to move his hands, his eyes trained on your reaction, but still nothing. When he felt comfortable, he moved his arm to pull the blanket around your body, covering his shoulders and suckling until he fell asleep. For the first time in a few weeks, he slept with no nightmares. 

roughly a couple of minutes after Konig fell asleep you woke up. There was a sharp tug on your nipple that jarred you fully awake. Not moving, out of fear of making whatever is sucking on her upset, you kept your hands where they were. you looked down to see Konig’s mouth around your nipple, sleeping peacefully. He still suckled in his sleep, but it wasn’t in a sexual way.

When König wanted to arouse you sexually, he would suckle on her neck, leaving hickeys, and his hands would trail to her core. This time was different. The suckling was soft, and your skin was tickled by his peaceful breathing. 

He looked cute as you moved to stroke his head softly. You felt no desire to remove him from your breast. Your hand stroked his hair, watching for a moment as he rested before she too felt tired again. With one kiss on your forehead, you fell asleep as you were nursing your Husband. 

Neither of you would wake up until noon. The haze of König was gone when he woke up. He blinked, surprised to see your breast instead of your hair or pillow, his mouth busy with the hardened nipple in his mouth. He pulled away slowly, nervous about what he had done while you began to wake up. König tucked your breast back into your tank top, praying that she would fall asleep, but his wrist was caught. your eyes blinked at him, watching his eyes build up with anxious tears, causing you to sit up and take his face in your hands. 

"König its okay just breathe."

He shook his head, nearly shrinking into himself as he began to mumble out an apology. 

“Konig, I’m not angry. I want you to look at me.” 

Konig looked up, struggling to fight back his tears as he sniffled softly. 

“Thank you” you kissed his forehead. “Let’s just talk about what happened and then take it from there.” 

“Okay,” he reached himself forward while hugging her tightly. 

You both sat there, cuddled close together before any of you began to talk. He spoke of how shitty the mission was and how he just wanted to feel protected for once—seeing your nipples poking made him want nothing more but to be lost in your chest. He apologized for touching your without permission and swore never to do it again. 

you shook your head and kissed his forehead, saying you didn't mind. König always loved the fact you were to nurse him even though you already had a kid which was a lot to tend to but you always made time for him. and now it was his turn to be taken care of. She can remember the first time. When they began to make love during their honeymoon, it was an experience.

They both had highly long stairs, going for roughly four rounds until you were both exhausted. you both were also animistic in a way. Groans and moans and aggressive skin slapping filled the room as it shifted from lovemaking to fucking. In the first round, they worship each other, König more than you. He was between your legs, overwhelmed by the scent of her core, but he kept his eyes locked on hers.

“Ask me,” you ordered softly, already knowing what he was thinking of.

“Please let me lick you m….” 

“Say it,” she said, reaching her hand down to stroke his bottom lip.

“Please let me lick your pussy, Mommy, please,” Konig begged as he caught your thumb in his mouth, sucking slowly.

“Lick mommy’s pussy, baby,” she moved her hand behind his head, pushing him at her core. 

Praise fell from your mouth, encouraging his mouth to work overtime, forcing you to climax. He spelled both of their full names with his tongue, barely able to finish his last name before you came into his mouth. He swallowed every drop, encouraged by your head pets. 

“That’s it, baby, don’t waste a drop.” you panted as he moved to push your legs back. 

The air tickles your wet folds causing you to laugh and soon turn to moan as his heavy tongue lap you up. Konig could never answer how little it turned him on to have himself sucked off, but each time you attempted, he would whimper and tell her no that he just wanted to focus on pleasuring you. When he pulled up to look at you, his lips were puffy and dripping with spit and your juices. He lapped his tongue over his lips and moved forward to nuzzle his nose against yours.

"B-better... then last time m-mommy"

“So much better, baby boy. You are such a good boy,” the kisses sloppily, both of yours arms wrapped around each other. 

Soon Konig was on top of her, slipping on the condom and squirting lube on his cock. you pumped him slowly, spreading it while you moved to bite his lip. When he pierced your body, you both screamed in each other's mouths in pleasure, tangled in each other as König thrust inside you. His thumb stayed on your clit, rubbing small slow circles as he began to pick up his thrusting. you moaned and screamed as he thrust inside of you, blabbing about how he was a good boy for you. 

“Oh fuck Koni….your such a good boy….your mommy's good boy,” then he snapped. 

He buried his face in your neck, moving his hands to clutch your thighs as he snapped deeper inside of you. He moves his knees up, keeping your legs high enough to pound you as he moved one hand to cover your screaming mouth, not needing another noise complaint. 

“Fuck !” he growled in your neck repeatedly while pounding into you. 

After the last three strokes, he came inside the condom, pushing himself balls deep inside of you. He panted shakily, his voice whispering Mommy until he emptied all of himself. He trusted himself a few more times, not caring for his sensitivity, wanting to wring out your orgasm. you came, shakily gripping his hair to pull him back to kiss him. 

“Fuck Konig fuck that felt good,” you giggled while kissing his face. 

His eyes were hazed over again, this time out of exhaustion, before nuzzling into her neck. you kissed his forehead, waiting for him to release his tight grip on your waist. When the shaky panting stopped, he pulled away and curled onto his side. He slipped the condom off, carefully tying it off before tossing it in the trash can beside the bed. He rolled over, looking at you, reaching for you with a soft whimper. 

“Cuddle me,” he whispered, his voice turning softer. 

“You wanna cuddle?” you said, mirroring his tone with a smile. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes big with want. 

Wrapped your arms around him, you carefully pulled him to his chest, his lip wrapped around your nipple, and suckled until his breathing slowed. When the both of you calmed down, neither moved to remove away and clean up. 

“Mommy missed you baby,” you said, playing with his hair. 

#cod mw2 #mw2 smut #konig smut #konig x you #cod konig #konig x reader #konig cod #mw2 konig #mw2 #mwii smut #cod smut #konig modern warfare #konig call of duty #mw2 spoilers

[helluvapoison]

im on my hands and knees for some good velvette content- i want to SERVE her bro, i've been thinking of an idea where a reader (and if you'd like, maybe a bodyguard?? you've already drabbled w it eheeheh) helps her get out of something during a show, listening to her every word (even if you feign some reluctance) while helping her out of stockings and a rather fancy suit/dress that has much too many buttons for the next planned "activity" IDK THAT OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. ANYTHING W HER

Allow Me

Velvette x Reader

imagine helping velvette get comfortable after a shitty day

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• As usual she’s on the phone when she comes in, wiggling her fingers at you in greeting while her eyes glare forward

• You watch her begin to loosen the silk scarf around her neck four times only to snap her hand away, gesturing wildly as she shouted at some unlucky soul on the other end of the call

• Having had enough, you pushed to your feet and strolled over to where Velvette stormed in a circle, using expressions like “diffusion line” or “conglomerate” that went over your head

• “Your head must be fucking buried in the ground for you to have missed that, Joanne! Last I checked you’re not an ostrich! Fucking fix it!”

• You got that one easily enough

• Her sneer faltered upon noticing you. She never liked to aim her fury in your direction but you willingly came into her line of sight, reaching out and undoing the knot around her neck

• Velvette’s eyes soften ever so slightly as you work silently. Her lips part but you’re denied whatever she was going to say. She whips her head to the side yelling, “The papers? Why the fuck I would I be asking you to fix a typo on paper!? We’re VoxTec! That’s digital, you half wit!”

• You fold the silk accessory and place it on her vanity, not wanting to try and decipher Vel’s intricate organization process (She tried explaining it to you once, you didn’t make it further than shoes)

• Returning before her, noting the way her brows jump in surprise, you slide a finger into the short sleeve of her coat. She immediately understands what you’re doing and slips her arm out, shifting the phone into that hand so you can take the coat off entirely

• She watches intensely, like you’re doing something wrong, as you hang her coat over a chair

• It makes you hesitate for the next part of your plan

• You take her hand and ease her onto the burgundy, chaise lounge couch. You kneel and start pulling loose the many laces on her knee high boots

• You’re too busy with your tedious mission that you miss the first smile Velvette wears today. You wouldn’t have guessed it either, what with how she keeps swearing at her assistant

• Bestowing the next boot the same treatment, you move on to peel away her socks. You slide her fuzzy (but not tacky) slippers out from under the couch and glide them on her feet

• Velvette’s eyes follow you as you walk away from her, masking her disappointment by pursing her lips

• She pats the side of the couch when you return with her favorite bedazzled cup, quietly ordering you to sit. Putting the call on mute, her legs swing over and drape over your own when you obey, “You didn’t take off my makeup.”

• Quirking a suspicious brow you shake your head, “You wouldn’t let me if I tried.”

• “No,” She sighs, “You’d mess it up.”

• “It’s coming off your face, how would I— Y’know you make it impossible to wanna help you.”

• “That’s because I don’t need help. Consider yourself lucky that I even let you.” Velvette takes a sip of the drink you prepared, blinking at you expectantly

• Throwing an arm around the couch you lean in closer than you ever had before, “I consider myself downright blessed to be in your presence.”

• Sarcasm oozed from your tone but it didn’t stop the need to block your view with her phone, tapping away as if unfazed. She’d literally die if you knew you made her blush

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ this was so much fun to do! i didn’t explicitly say cannibal!reader but i totally pictured them/ a bodyguard reader for this

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #velvette headcanon #velvette imagine #velvette x reader

[mysteriesmuse]

Third Year Katsuki is definetly “too hot to handle.”

And you’re not just saying that in the joking way. Over the years combined with his fiery temper, fierce compassion, and firey explosions he’s also matured incredibly well. Not just his temper and his social skills — which are significantly better than when he started at UA — but also his looks. Katsuki Bakugou the resident badboy (good guy, really) heartthrob of Class 3-A; and let me tell you it’s both a pleasure and a significant amount of confusion to be on the receiving end of his affections. —————

And it happens most often, and most obviously in passings . . . The way he chins at you when you walk into the living room area on your way out to jog. Always those red eyes flickering up from his spot sprawled out on the couch, an arm thrown across the back as he twists and angles his body to look at you, “not bad. g’morning sleeping beauty.” He says, and you know he’s joking and poking fun at you because he’s already been up for a half-hour or so. And him commenting about your appearance is normal bc you used to come down with bed head back in your first year until he started commenting on it. So now you done your hair up in fun little ponytails and boxer braids by your vanity every morning. And the comments always makes you roll your eyes and smile, but your toes are involuntarily curling as you wave and head out the door — he means nothing by it. he wouldn’t. He couldn’t he’s Katsuki and you’re just you. —— It’s the days when you and the girls like to play outside in the grass by the dorm — playful sparing and floating around. Right under his nose because his dorm room balcony is right above the green space. And it’s as the shouts get louder that he peaks his head out (ready to yell at y’all to quiet down) that he sees you sparing again Pink Cheeks. And Katsuki will find his way to the railing and lean down to look at you. “Oi, you’re in trouble now.” And you can hear him. Glancing up and that angelic smirk graces your face as you huff and pin her down. Katsuki always barking out a “HA” or a “Atta’ girl. Better luck next time” depending on how it goes. —— The commentary this man must give from the balcony like it’s his job to help the girls under his balcony train, not just because he came out and got distracting by you being there. Noooooo never. —— It’s how touchy his is when you’re in the room or in the library, especially the library. He knows exactly where to find you. You never see it, but everyone else can watch the way he beelines it straight over to your table after he’s finished collecting the books he needs. Any other table in the place? Not even a glance. No chance because Katsuki is trying to sit next to his favorite girl. And you’re always just a little surprised and manage a startled hello when he silently pulls out a chair and plops down right next to you. Somehow Katsuki — for his size and quality combat boots — manages to tread the tile floors silently when he’s trying to find you. And after he’s plopped himself down it’s always his knee pressed against your leg. Or his elbow bumping into yours, or his fingers brushing against yours when he picks up the pen you’ve dropped or sneaks a snack of yours. And you’d have half the mind to think of taking two bc he seems to be addicted to your chocolate covered pretzels. And he always seems to have an extra of the exact kind of pen you like.

And he always offers to refill your water bottle when you stretch your arms above your head after an hour to go fill it back up. Big hand grabbing his own and swirling around the last inch of water saying he needs to go fill his up too — and instead your water bottle break turns into the two of you walking and chitchatting about your assignments as you take turns in the hall with the one good water bottle dispenser. The rest of the library rap with attention as they watch “the Katsuki” walk around with a girl.

—— OR how friendly he seems to get in the hall. Always stomping or mysteriously gliding through silently as you and the girls gossip. And instead of asking y’all to move like a normal person Katsuki just always bulldozes straight through you. Grumbling something under his breath which tickles the skin on the side of your cheek as he slides right past you. A warm palm on the small of your back and an audible “ ‘cuse me.” Or a fast and furious set of hands around your torso as he picks you up and goes past, setting you back down on your feet. And you’ve started customarily yelling, “ do I even weight anything to you?”

Your hands up and exasperated. You always look perfectly cute and flustered. And Katsuki has the audacity to turn over his shoulder and smirk down at you. Licking his lips before he does so, “nah, it’s like a couple of grapes.” Before the hot headed blonde speeds off to where he was going leaving you with a Katsuki induced butterfly indigestion and Mina just gaping at the interaction.

——

And all the flirting he’s been doing, that you’ve been high-key trying to convince yourself that youre over-analyzing and thinking too much into it. Because COME ON it’s Katsuki freaking Bakugou and he’s literally sooo attractive it’s horrible, like seriously. Now Katsuki’s always saying off-handed comments to you about nearly everything you do. Except this time it’s a cut-and-dry compliment bc he’s moving around the gym behind you as you’re doing some sets with the barbell.

And you’ve only got one earbud in and that’s when you hear him say it. “sexy back.” and you blink bc you don’t think that’s what he said, but Katsuki’s path curls and circles in front of you as you lower the barbell back to your chest. — and oh my god he’s totally checking you out. Ruby red eyes delving straight along your midline and lingering at the sweat dripping between your cleavage from the power sets you’ve been working on.

And it’s your owlish blink that’s got him flickering his eyes back up towards your face. A sheepish look flickering across his usually sharp features. He coughs into his fist, “What? You’ve never heard that compliment before?” And suddenly he’s stepping even closer as he reaches a hand right under your chin to grab the barbell — his natural musk of burnt carmel flinging itself into your senses. “Uh no,” you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, “can’t say I have.” Katsuki flashes a bright white smile at you. “Can’t believe I’m the first person to tell ya’” he chuckles, breathy. Which is partially a lie. Your knuckles tighten white against the bar; except he’s really the one holding most of the weight now anyways. You voice in your throat supplies you with a choked sound. “ ‘M serious,” he confides, looking into your eyes, “been thinking it everyday since day one.” And he’s been saying it under his breath every time he walks past you because damn the way the muscles of your back perfectly cushion your spine and slim down to that waist of yours has his head spinning and he seriously can’t believe this is the first time you’re hearing it. “Keep up the good work.” he adds. The weight of the bar transferring back into your hands as he saunters off to his next station. The little skip in his step accentuating his small back and tight booty as he walks away from you. And it’s only every waking second for the next few days that your mind is gripping onto the sound of his gravely voice saying “sexy back” and you’d be damned if you let a man get you that worked up over such a silly little compliment, but come on!! It’s the senior king of sexy himself who called you that? What else is a girl supposed to do? and it’s then that you start or consider Katsuki’s really flirting a little more seriously, maybe you should look into what he’s doing just a little more.

#mysteriesmusing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou drabble #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugou #Oh my gosh #this image is so potent in my mind like 3rd Katsuki evening his head out and being able to sorta kinda flirt like this #Also baby boy being so incredibly whipped and thinking we’re so gorgeous that he has to consciously compliment us every time he walks past #mwah! such a good concept!! #also inspired bc I saw my back in the mirror at the gym today and I don’t like a lot of how my body looks but damn! #ig it’s the parts we don’t see about ourselves that we feel confident in. So lesson learned #be more confident girlies!!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt. 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

Cinderella wakes to birdsong.

It brings her to tears. She tangles her fingers in the soft bedcovers, pulling them up and over her face. Her tears blur the gentle light seeping through the fabric so that she feels like she might still be dreaming. Her body is pleasantly sore from dancing, but not hurting like it does after a day of chores. Her hair smells of the gentle oils Helga patiently brushed into it rather than fireplace soot. The gnawing loneliness that’s accompanied her for so many years is wonderfully quiet, soothed by the long evening spent in the arms of her friend.

The Prince.

Cinderella huffs a laugh, disbelieving, and pulls the sheets away from her face. Her room is pleasantly cool, the air brisk though the windows aren’t open. She breathes in deeply. Her friend is the Prince. Her impossible, magic-wielding friend who saved her life and listened to her worries and always made her laugh is the prince.

And he’s a hell of a dancer too.

Even the memory of their dances thrills her. Cinderella jumps out of bed , unable to bear the sudden surge of energy coursing through her, and braces for the shock of cold stone against her bare feet. It never comes. Instead, the floor hums with the sort of warmth she’s begun to associate with magic. Cinderella laughs and sways to the window, humming portions of the previous night’s songs under her breath.

The people! The music! The colors! Her memory is a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful she’s ever seen in her entire life. At the center of it all is her friend and his gentle smile, his hand outstretched for hers.

Cinderella eases the window open. She’d been too nervous to take a proper look outside yesterday, but today is a different story. For all the elation she feels, there’s also something settled inside of her. A sort of contentment that sits at the bottom of her stomach where it won’t be easily swayed. So she opens the window without worrying if she’s allowed to do so and takes in a lungful of fresh morning air.

“The late Queen’s gardens,” Helga says from the doorway. Cinderella turns to find Helga with a breakfast tray balanced on one hand and a letter held in the other. Helga’s eyes sparkle. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

They are. Cinderella was listening to the birds and not looking at the garden, but she knows it’s true. The greenery is lush and well-maintained, the flowers blooming big and beautiful along a carefully swept path. She can hear water from beyond a row of hedges. A fountain?

“Everything is beautiful,” Cinderella says. The Prince’s green eyes against the night sky comes to mind and Cinderella’s heart flips. She clears her throat. “The grounds. The castle. It’s all very beautiful.”

Helga hums and closes the door with her foot. “Would you like to sit by the window then?”

“Yes,” Cinderella says. The idea of eating the croissant and eggs Helga brought while listening to the birds and watching the flowers gently sway in the breeze is so wonderful that Cinderella doesn’t see the problem right away. She frowns and looks around the bedroom. Besides the bed and the vanity, there’s not much more furniture in the room. “I can help you with some chairs…?”

Helga laughs and waves the hand holding the letter. “Don’t be silly, dear. It will only take a moment.”

Cinderella has to bite her tongue to keep from yelping when Helga lets go of the tray suddenly. It doesn’t fall. Instead the food hangs in the air as if set on an invisible table. Helga whips out her wand and flicks it at the stone near the window.

A chair and a small garden table rise from the floor, melting in reverse. The table is set with a series of dainty forks and a crystal glass. After a moment’s thought, Helga waves her wand again and a bottle of orange juice appears.

“Wow,” Cinderella says.

Helga is frowning. “Yes, well, it will do. Somehow, I always conjure garden furniture even when I had the loveliest tea table in mind…” She busies herself setting up the breakfast tray. “Come now, sit, sit, sit. Before everything gets cold.”

Cinderella doesn’t move. She’s never noticed it before because of the low lighting at night, but Helga’s magic looks a little like her friend’s magic. There aren’t as many colors and it’s very faint, but when the sunlight catches it just right, the air shines. As she watches, the shine sinks into the floor until the chair and table look as mundane as can be. Cinderella is fascinated. “How does that work?”

“How does what work?” Helga asks absently. She holds the orange juice up to the light, squinting at it. “I swear I meant to conjure peach juice…”

“The conjuring magic,” Cinderella says. She waves her hand to the table and chair. “That looked different than the floating magic you do.”

That gets Helga’s attention. Her gaze snaps from the orange juice to Cinderella. “Looked?”

“The magic came up from the stone,” Cinderella explains. She waves her hands in a vague approximation of it. “Then, when you finished, it went back.”

Helga doesn’t answer right away. She stares at Cinderella very hard, her gaze piercing, as if trying to see if Cinderella is being serious or not. She chews her cheek and finally says, “You’ve seen a lot of magic?”

Deny it. It’s not a voice, not really. It’s an ancient instinct and Cinderella works very hard to make sure that none of it shows on her face. Carefully, Cinderella shrugs. “No. But my friend uses a lot around me. Sometimes I can guess where it is.”

Slowly Helga’s shoulders relax. “…from exposure makes sense,” she murmurs under her breath. Then, louder, “You shouldn’t look at magic, dear. It can hurt your eyes.”

It doesn’t hurt. Cinderella smiles. “I’ll try not to.”

Satisfied, Helga says, “To answer your question, it looked different because that wasn’t a spell. I don’t have magic, remember?” She twirls her wand. “I use this to direct what my Lord lends me. What I did just then was—well. This castle is very old, yes? It’s got magic of its own that I can ask for help from time to time.”

“The castle did this?” Cinderella asks. She studies the table and chair with renewed interest. They look solid and well-made and the food seems edible. She thinks about the way the magic rose from the ground. “I wonder…”

“Pardon?”

But Cinderella is already extending her hand. The single chair next to the window looks lonely. It would be so wonderful if there was another chair for Helga to sit and have breakfast with her… “If you would?” she asks the castle.

Where the magic curled and bent to Helga’s will, it explodes under Cinderella’s. Another chair springs into existence faster than Cinderella expected. The table extends another foot with a pop! and a second bottle of orange juice appears next to a second glass.

“Oh my,” Cinderella says. She flexes her hand. The magic twines around her fingers before slipping back into the stone floor. She grins. “How wonderful!”

Helga blinks very quickly. “Yes…yes, wonderful.” She studies Cinderella, almost speaks, and then seems to reconsider. Finally, she says, “I take it the second chair is an invitation?”

“Yes,” Cinderella says. Perhaps she should have asked Helga before she acted, but she didn’t feel as if she needed to. Like Helga said, the castle was right there to help. “I would enjoy the company.”

They settle at the little table, Helga pouring juice and serving the breakfast pastries she brought. Cinderella’s feet are warm from the magic sitting so close to the surface of the stone and her heart is warm when, unthinking, Helga spreads jam over a croissant for Cinderella.

“Oh,” Helga says when she notices. She’d been staring into space as she prepared Cinderella’s breakfast and, now, jolts back to herself. There’s a light flush on her cheeks when she says, “Excuse me, my mind was elsewhere. Do you like strawberry jam? I can go to the kitchens for fresh pastries—”

“It’s perfect,” Cinderella assures. She remembers her mother’s hands around a crystal jar of jam, a whisper of just a little before dinner. She takes a bite of her croissant and feels a thrill at the sweetness of the jam. Just like she remembers. “Delicious.”

“An invitation came for you at dawn,” Helga says after a few moments of silent eating. Her eyes sparkle as she draws the envelope out from her skirts and holds it so the sunlight reflects off the golden seal. “I wonder who it could be from?”

The second invitation. The Prince told her it was coming, but Cinderella’s heart flips when she sees it anyway. She takes the envelope from Helga as if it were made of butterfly wings and opens it carefully. The faint smell of oranges drifts from the card inside.

The Baron’s Daughter is hereby cordially invited to the Castle on this day for a continuation of festivities…

Then, at the bottom, her friend has written I’ll pick you up in his own handwriting.

Cinderella strokes the letters of her friend’s writing. Each one is elegantly shaped and perfectly placed. She can imagine him as a boy sitting politely during his lessons, quill clutched tightly in hand, and brow furrowed as he practiced each letter.

“What was he like?” Cinderella asks.

“Pardon?”

“I want to know how the Prince was as a boy,” Cinderella says. When the silence stretches, she looks up from her invitation to see unease on Helga’s face. “Helga?”

“That’s…difficult for me to say,” Helga says.

“Were you not with him as a child? I assumed from the way you spoke…”

“No, I was,” Helga says. She tucks her hands under the table and looks out the window. The sunlight falls across the older woman’s face, highlighting the way the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth deepen when she frowns. “The Prince now and the Prince then are two very separate people. I don’t want to scare you away with stories of a person who no longer exists.”

Cinderella waits for Helga to say more. When the silence again goes on for too long, she prompts, “What do you think would scare me away?”

Again, Helga hesitates. There seems to be a war going on behind her pale eyes. Cinderella thinks that she must be twisting her apron under the table.

“He wasn’t kind,” Helga says at last. She busies herself wiping a stray smear of butter from the table. “Anything more, you’d need to ask him.”

Helga means to end the conversation there. Cinderella could let it end – should let it end – but the words echo. He wasn’t kind.

Cinderella’s first thought is good. She’s glad that her friend wasn’t kind. Cinderella has lived her entire life being kind and she’s seen what rewards are at the end of that road. Good that her friend knew better than to let others extract kindness from him like blood, good he didn’t sleep next to an empty hearth praying for the ones who put him there to return kindness with affection, good that he protected himself in a way Cinderella never could.

Cinderella’s second thought is why? Why did Helga sound apologetic? Did she think Cinderella would think less of him?

“When I was a little girl,” Cinderella finds herself saying, “I spent many hours in the garden.” She looks out the window and sees a different garden than the former Queen’s. She sees roses and sprigs of lavender as far as the eye can see. Her mother’s garden. “My mother had quite the green thumb. The things she could grow! I was so young then and didn’t have much reference, but it seemed as if every flower bloomed bigger and every bush grew fuller under her touch.”

“That’s quite the gift,” Helga says.

Cinderella hums. She loved her mother best in the garden. When her mother waited for her father by the window, she seemed colder and more distant. In the garden, her mother smiled. “It was. If we lived anywhere else, we would have had butterflies all year round. But being where the estate is, we only had a few weeks in spring and a little in fall when the butterflies would pass through the garden on their way to the Capital.”

“I didn’t realize you come from so far west,” Helga says.

Cinderella nods. “Near the mountains.” She finds her gaze being pulled toward the west as she talks. How far away is her home? At least a week’s ride by carriage. “I always waited for the butterflies to visit. One day, when I was very young, I woke up to see they’d come during the night. I raced outside to see them up close. There weren’t many of them yet, just a few, and I had the good luck to spot one resting on the ground.” Cinderella’s lip curls. “Only it wasn’t resting any longer. It had the misfortune to land on an anthill. The ants were hungry, I suppose. They were tearing the butterfly apart piece by piece.”

Even now she remembers the sick horror that filled her at the sight. The vicious hold the ants had on the blue wings, pinning the poor thing to the ground. The way the butterfly’s antennae waved in panic. The smell of the ants as they poured from their mound to feast.

“How awful,” Helga says. She’s watching Cinderella carefully, her hands still in her lap. “What happened then?”

“Nature,” Cinderella says. She feels as if her mouth is not her own when she says, “There’s nothing awful about nature. The ants needed food after the harsh winter and the butterfly was unlucky. It wasn’t the ants’ fault that they killed the butterfly. It was simply nature.” Cinderella breathes in through her nose and stiffens like a woman freed from a trance. “That’s what my mother said when she caught me killing the ants.”

A sense memory: her shiny black shoes coming down on the damp, red dirt as she collapsed the ant hill. The flecks of mud that splattered her ankles when she crushed their exoskeletons under her heel. Her mother’s hand hot on her shoulder. The percussive force of her mother’s shout ringing in her ears.

“She told me that I needed to try and understand the ants,” Cinderella continues. Her feet aren’t cold and muddy now. They’re warm from the magic coating them, tucked neatly under her chair. “She understood I was upset about the butterfly, but being upset was no excuse for the violence I responded with. I shouldn’t have punished the ants for what was in their nature to do.”

“A wise woman.”

Cinderella smiles with closed lips. The sun is well and truly risen now and its harsh rays feel hot against Cinderella’s cheek and collarbones. “A kind woman.”

“Ah,” Helga says, understanding.

Cinderella wonders what it is Helga’s understood. “Hm?”

Helga weighs each word carefully. “If I may offer my two cents, my lady?” When Cinderella nods, she says, “Your mother was right that it was in the ants’ nature to kill.”

Why is she disappointed in Helga’s response? Cinderella sips her juice to hide her frown. “That’s true.”

“However,” Helga says, “nature does not protect one from another’s nature. Yes, it was in the ants’ nature to eat the butterfly. But perhaps it is in your nature to kill ants for tormenting butterflies.”

Cinderella sets down her juice and gives Helga her full attention.

“Considering that,” Helga says lightly, “was it so wrong to kill them for hurting something that meant so much to you?”

Oh. Cinderella swallows, desperately willing away the ache in her throat. Her lip trembles. Helga is looking at her with such deep understanding that Cinderella feels shaken to her core.

All these years and she understands now why her mother’s words bothered her so much. Her mother always seemed to think Cinderella should behave as if nothing affected her, not her mother’s absence, not her father absence, and not the violence of the ants against the butterfly. Helga is saying the opposite. Of course, Cinderella acted that way. Of course! Like the ants, Cinderella also had a nature. Cinderella, like the ants, also had a right to act the way she did.

A knot she didn’t know existed unravels in her chest. Cinderella doesn’t need to sit quietly when an injustice is being done to her or others. She doesn’t need to make excuses for the aggressor or understand their motives. She can act. She can defend. She can protect herself.

(It was never about the ants at all.)

Cinderella clears her throat. “Yes.” Thank you. She can’t bring herself to say the words. “I’d like to wear the blue dress tonight.”

“We had to rush getting ready last night,” Helga says. She reaches across the table to place her hand on top of Cinderella’s. It’s cooler than the sunlight but warms Cinderella all the same. “Why don’t we take out time getting ready, hm?”

“I’d like that,” Cinderella says.

--------

Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to read more parts of Cinderella a week earlier, please consider checking out my Patreon (X)! On top of posting all my stories a week earlier there, I also post Patreon Exclusives.

#long post #my writing #Cinderella fan fiction #cinderella retelling

[luveline]

Hey, love your work. Sooo, I was thinking, if it's ok, more actress reader and rockstar Sirius. Please, please, please. I'm obsess.

ty for ur request!! rockstar!sirius x actress!reader

You're listening to Sirius' new song —it's all you listen to, at this point— and don't hear the knock at your trailer door. 

There's nothing to do but wait until you're needed again at costuming for more measurements, so you've sequestered yourself away to miss your boyfriend in private. Nails in front of you, you're humming the right words to the wrong verse, pushing your cuticles back with your thumb nail and wishing Sirius were here to tell you off.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?" he asks over your shoulder, the smell of his perfume sudden and heavy in your nose. He sounds pleased despite his scolding. "You'll be in so much trouble with makeup." 

You bolt to your feet. One moment you're looking at him, the next you're throwing your arms around his shoulders, the silly foldout chair you'd been lounging in collapsing to the trailer floor with a thump. 

"When did you get here?" you ask, practically shouting in his ear, your enthusiasm jolting him one side to another. 

"You know I'm around," he says, which means, I came straight here. 

"I missed you so much," you say, still happy, but with that desperate loneliness that pervades whenever he's gone. 

You pull away to check he's real, and he is, and he's handsome, skin tanned by the eastern European sunshine, a golden nose ring glinting in the light. Stubble scratches your hands as you stroke his cheeks, your top lip as you lean up for a loving peck.

"You're really here," you say, stroking his hair behind his ears. 

Sirius laughs and pulls your hands off of him, holding them tight in his, "Alright, don't smother me," he says, not without love. "You have very cold hands." 

"You're meant to be holding them," you croon. 

Sirius takes you in. You preen like a bird having combed all her feathers, knowing the genre of what he might say before he so much as parts his pretty lips. "You look beautiful, my love." 

Cheesy from any other mouth, you flush at his praise and pull him closer to you, your stomachs touching, your chests angled apart. 

He's been touring and you've been working; it's been a good long while since you got to hold his hand. He tries to come home to you as often as he can while you fly out city to city chasing him whenever you aren't contracted, but nothing feels as good as this —he's home. At least for a few months.

"I missed you," he says gently. "I know you already know that, but I really missed you." Sirius steals his hands away to wrap arms around your shoulders, face pressed to the top of your head. "I missed you. Missed you so much." 

Your face fits nicely under his. Sirius might not believe in fate —it wasn't luck that sent you what must have amounted to thousands upon thousands of flowers, a bouquet every day for weeks, nor was it luck that had your thank you notes turning to love letters, the best of which he keeps in his jacket pocket— but you do, you have to, because you fit together perfectly. 

"I missed you, too," you murmur. 

"Can we run away, yet?" he asks. 

"Maybe after reshoots, handsome." 

Sirius takes your face into his hand and lays a heavy kiss on your lips. You squeeze your eyes closed, giggling as his kiss grows heated, insistent at the seam of your lips. You let him deepen the kiss but lean back in the circle of his arms at the pressure, pushed by his enthusiasm into the vanity behind you. 

Bottles and brushes and things collapse. You laugh and break away from his kissing, peering over your shoulder at the mess you've made. 

"It always looks like after an earthquake when you come to see me," you say, so in love that it sounds like a good thing. 

Sirius kisses under your jaw firmly, the pendant hanging from his neck ghosting against your chest with his movement. "Won't matter if I make some more mess then, will it?" he asks between soft kisses. 

"Just don't give me any bruises," you say as he mouths downward, weaving your fingers into his hair. 

"Your makeup girls can cover it." 

"But it's embarrassing," you laugh, tickled by his hand as it slides up the inside of your thigh. He squeezes the softness there greedily. 

Sirius peels away, looking down at you like you've just spun silver in your bare hands. He wrote about it once, a song they never made, how the sound of you laughing from two rooms over made him feel homesick. How having you in arms reach was the only thing he really needed. 

He looks reverential. You relent. "They can probably cover it," you say softly. 

Sirius grins as he dives for your neck, another round of giddy laughter dying on your lips as he promises to show you how much he missed you.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black #rockstar!sirius #rockstar sirius black

[darlingsfandom]

I have a request for you for cillian x younger girlfriend reader based on his ‘a quiet place 2’ interview where he mentions he finds it a bit annoying hearing people with their text clicking sound on. Like imagine his girl purposely has that feature on just to playfully annoying him and be bratty so he gives her a spanking & chokes her to put her in her place 🤭

Please & thanks lovely 💕

thank you for the request 🥺

I will say that I agree with him though, that sound is annoying! I never have mine anymore so I get where he's coming from but I love the idea of being a brat for him!

"Shut it off!"

Gif credit : @nofckingfighting !

Warnings: choking, fingering, swearing, semi-public sex, slightly mean Dom Cillian! Spankings

It wasn't unusual that you went with Cillian on his interviews. It was like a second nature to you. You were sitting next to him while he was getting his hair done on your phone texting one of you best friends about how you got to meet Emily Blunt and how sweet she really is and yet all Cillian could hear was the sounds of you texting away with the little clicks and it was driving him up the wall.

Once his hairdresser left Cillian reached over and grabbed your phone.

"Hey!" You whined while reaching back for it. Cillian gave you the look and you knew you were pushing his buttons so you figured why not? He held your phone in his hand while you tried to fight for it back.

"Give it back !" You pouted your bottom lip and Cillian rolled his eyes.

"Turn dat damn noise off yeah! It's annoying! You know I don't like dat noise." He handed you back your phone and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

It was time for his interview and you walked with him hand and hand until he has to go sit in his chair. He gave you a loving kiss on the lips before letting you wander around behind the camera. The interview went on as normal until Cillian heard the noise he couldn't stand: the clicking! His eyes darted in your direction as you stood there, legs crossed and head down texting away once again. His interviewer asked him what's wrong and he started a whole dialogue about how people need to shut the clicking noise off when texting which made you giggle because you knew it wasn't about you, but it was still about you. It's not your fault he hates the noise but you wanted to have fun.

After his interview Cillian walked up to you, grabbed your hand and took you back into the dressing room.

"What da fuck was dat?" He threw his hands in the air while you stood there with the biggest smirk on your face holding your phone, that was until he grabbed it and tossed it towards the vanity.

"Hey! That's my phone! If you break it you're getting me a new one." You crossed your arms over your chest and stomped your foot which made Cillian glare. He pulled you by your arm until he was bending you over the arm of the loveseat in the room and gave no warning before his hand struck your ass which made you jump.

"Daddy!" You cried out as the sting burned over you ass cheek.

"Don't ya daddy me! You're being a brat." He gave you another hard spanking that made you grip the loveseat harder. "Tink ya funny are ya? Ya know I can't stand dat noise and yet ya did it anyway?" His hand found its way into your hair and yanked you backwards making you stumble onto your feet. Cillian wrapped his hand around your throat making you look at yourself in the mirror as he huffed into your ear.

"Been a fuckin brat for bout a week now! I buy ya what ya want, take ya wherever ya want and yet no tank yas, no please daddy! Nothin but a spoiled brat! Gonna teach ya a lesson pretty girl!" Cillian bit down on your ear lobe which made you gasp a little since his hand was still around your throat. His other hand slid up under your dress to tease you before bending you over the vanity and spreading your legs with his knee so he could use his free to pull down your panties.

"Only dumb little sluts get worked up like this when being man handled." His words struck you right between your legs as his finger tips traced over your folds before slipping them inside of you with ease. His chuckle was dark and when you met his eyes in the mirror they were dark and full of lust.

"Please!" You choked out with tears in your eyes as Cillians fingers worked you over.

"Dat the best ya got ya little brat?" Cillian pulled his fingers out before shoving them into your mouth making you suck on them. He pulled them out watching the string of spit follow down before he slid his fingers back inside of you.

"Please daddy! I'm sorry ! Please make me cum!" You whined loudly looking at him through the mirror.

"Dats more like it!" He pressed his cock against you making you feel how hard he was but right now it was about you. His fingers moved in and out of you quickly making your knees buckle until you felt a sudden sting as Cillian slapped your pussy. It wasn't just one or two , it was five hard slaps to your clit that made you cry out his name. Cillian smirked at you while you gripped the edge of the vanity , he knew you were close by the look on your face.

"Now be a good girl fer me and cum! Be a dumb little girl and cum fer me!" He groaned into your ear while rubbing hard circles over on your clit. It was only seconds later that you felt your knees buckling, thighs shaking and body on edge as you came on his fingers.

"DADDY!" Your voice broke as Cillian edged you through your climax. He watched in awe as you came on his fingers.

"See I knew ya could be a good girl." He kissed the side of your head gently while pulling out his fingers and letting go of your neck. "Now get yerself together, I'm not even close to bein done wit ya yet ."

#emsblurbs #Cillian Murphy #cillian murphy blurb #cillian murphy drabble #cillian murphy smut

[kimmberleeex]

“I’ll Never Let You Go”

NSFW 18+, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A MINOR.

TW: smut content, strong language (cunt is used), use of drugs/alcohol, and sensitive topic of self harm and physical abuse, oral (f+m), sex, etc.

** For the reader: The title is based off of a song that came out in 1990 called (you guessed it) “I’ll Never Let You Go” by Steelheart. This is also heavily inspired by an amazing fic written by the talented @unsolved-duvall , go read hers here.

** ALSO, this is fem reader x rockstar Eddie, and the POV switches back and forth between the two. I’ll leave Eddie’s white and the font will be pink for the readers. 🖤 hope you guys enjoy!

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It was 1990, it had been a fucking wild 4 years since Eddie barely graduated high school. Corroded Coffin blew up on the scene, hot and fast, sometimes it still felt like a complete whirlwind. After two sold out tours, a couple records, and some awards later, Eddie felt tired. The crazy lifestyle that he always dreamt about had seemingly become mundane. It was always the same cycle, tour for months at a time, a sold out show every night, the after parties every night, fucking some random groupie — or sometimes a couple if he had the energy. He never realized it would start to feel dull at some point.

Eddie was staring off into his dressing room mirror — it wasn’t that he was full of himself, though his cocky attitude would make you feel differently about him, he was just zoning out while lost in thought. Bringing his lit cigarette up to his lips, he takes a long drag of it. The smoke hugging his lungs while that familiar burning sensation hit the back of his throat, providing that fix of nicotine with a little bit of pain that he desperately needed. A stage manager popped his head in the room, his nasally voice pulling him out of his thoughts but not enough to give the man his full attention.

“5 minutes, Eddie. Then we need you backstage.” Without turning his head towards him, Eddie nonchalantly waves the short man off. The jewelry that dangled off of his wrists jingles slightly at the quick flick of his hand. He takes another long drag of his smoke before smashing the butt into an overfilled ashtray. With a long sigh, he slowly exhales the smoke and watches it swirl around him.

Eddie leans forward over a mirror that sat on the vanity’s counter, staring into his blown out chocolate brown eyes. Almost disappointed with himself as he snorted the white powder that he had already lined up through a little straw. The entire line disappeared as he moved across the reflective surface. Immediately he felt the drugs entering his system, tilting his head back, with a finger pushed up to his nose as the drainage went down his nasal cavity and numbed his throat.

Leaning back in his chair with a cough to clear his throat, he looked under the vanity counter. He gently taps on the back of some blonde girls head. “C’mon, doll. Time’s up.” He sounded uninterested, almost bored. The blonde slowly crawled out from under the counter, Eddie at least held his hand out for her to hold onto while she climbed up to her feet. His other hand already stuffing his half-hard dick back into his tattered jeans.

The girl was just some groupie he happened to pick that was hanging around out back, hoping to get a chance with him. She was pretty enough and was easily throwing herself at him. But he was just bored of the same thing — a desperate girl that hoped she could make him fall in love, or at the very least fuck him and sell the story to the tabloids. He was barely able to stay hard while she desperately tried to suck him off for the last twenty minutes.

She looked defeated and embarrassed, Eddie almost felt pity for her, almost. He pursed his lips together tightly as she stuck around longer than she should have, a look of hesitation and the need to say something on her face. He had an expectant look on his face that said she needed to go. And as if on cue, the head of Eddie’s security, Tommy, came into the room to escort her back to the venue.

He didn’t even look at her as she left, it was just easier that way. Hard to feel bad for the girls he used if he just didn’t pay attention to them and saw them for what they were — a one time, casual fuck. Eddie picked up a whiskey glass that was halfway full of Jack Daniel’s, swirling it around — the alcohol sloshing around the glass’s rim before he shot it down his throat. The alcohol burning the back of his esophagus, making Eddie click his tongue off of the roof of his mouth and exhale hard, his breath hot as hell from the liquor. It felt almost ritualistic at this point.

He rolled his neck, his stiff bones cracking before he rotated his shoulders trying to soothe his sore muscles. After four years of performing nearly every night, you’d think Eddie wouldn’t be nervous but as he pushed himself out of the chair and jumped up and down to get his blood pumping. He was shaking out his arms trying to steel his nerves.

The stage manager comes back, knocking a little more hurriedly before poking his head back in. “Eddie! Now, c’mon!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” He mumbles under his breath, he follows after the short man as he talks into the headset that rested over his ear.

“I got him, heading backstage now.” The man sounded overly confident, smug. A little man with a little power. Eddie rolled his eyes in annoyance, always being one to defy anyone with an ounce of authority. Balling his fists up into his leather jacket pockets as he continued to follow him backstage where his other bandmates were getting geared up.

Gareth was twirling his drumsticks in between his fingers, hyping himself up. Jeff was standing with a sound tech making sure his bass was in tune as he slings the strap over his shoulder. Another sound tech approaches Eddie with his pride and joy, his Sweetheart. As always, it’s one of the rare times that Eddie’s seemingly permanent scowl softens into a warm smile. Like seeing a loved one after a long absence.

When Eddie puts the familiar, worn-out guitar strap around his neck, it’s like something in him transforms. No longer was he Eddie the Freak of his former past with a giant ball of anger in the pit of his stomach. No, when he put his baby around his neck, he becomes Eddie fucking Munson — rock god. And his ego was as big as his asshole attitude that came with it.

The excited chatter of the crowd filled the arena, Eddie could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins. The overhead lights dimmed in the venue, there was a split second of silence followed by an uproar of screams and applause. Eddie’s heart thundered in his ears in anticipation as he watched his bandmates start onstage, waving to the crowd as they increasingly lost their minds.

Eddie looked up into the rafters as he let out a slow exhale. Finding the nerve to walk out onto the stage, he had a look of steel determination on his face. Once he emerges from backstage, the crowd absolutely loses their shit, the girls going absolutely feral. Without hesitation, Eddie struts to the microphone before letting the first notes of their opening song shred up and down his fretboard. His fingers moving up and down with such ease as he gets lost in the music.

Song after song, the crowd was going wild and was just full of energy. As big of an asshole as Eddie was famed to be, his heart had such a soft spot for those moments on stage that he saw the fans respond so well to his music. In between songs, he could be caught looking down and smiling at his feet. The next song they played was the most sexual song they had to date, the girls always lost their minds — and usually their panties when they’d toss ‘em on stage.

As the panties start flying, Eddie scanned the crowd, smirking at all the girls pushing their way to the front just to get a chance to be seen and gift him their delicates. That’s when his eyes fell on you. There was something about you that captured his attention, even causing him to tilt his head with curiosity. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It almost, almost made him stutter in his performance. However, he was able to save it with no one else noticing. This intrigued Eddie deeply because no girl has ever made him feel like that. He just saw them as fuck toys, just a tool to get off with. Then he’d discard them just as soon as he picked them up. It was easier that way, and he decided that he would do the same with you.

After the song ended, in the silence of getting set up for the next one, Eddie walked over to Tommy who was positioned at the side stage. He points you out and tells him to get you to come backstage afterwards. This wasn’t a totally uncommon request, Eddie would usually just pick one of the groupies already waiting out back that was dying for a chance to get with him or any member of the band if they weren’t what Eddie wanted.

But there was just something that was captivating Eddie’s attention, his eyes kept wandering to you through out the last two songs that they played. As the reverb from the last notes came to a stop, the lights went dark so they could walk off stage. The venue lights turning back on so the crowd could begin their exit.

Eddie went straight to his dressing room, plopping down in his chair. His sweat soaked hair clung to his face, he leaned down and ran the straw over another line of white powder, inhaling it down and leaning his head back a moment to let it seep into his system. Then poured himself some Jack, began swirling it around while trying to appear nonchalant as he awaited for the girl who caught his eye, even though his entire body was buzzing with excitement for the first time in years.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Every nerve ending of yours was buzzing with excitement as you got ready for the Corroded Coffin concert. Saving up for months so that you could afford a ticket while working your ass off at a shitty bar waiting tables. Where the men would try to grab your ass, or take you home at the end of every night. Always providing unwanted attention that made your skin crawl.

But this was your birthday present to yourself, you were finally going to see your favorite band. You had moved to NYC a year ago to try and kickstart your aspiring acting career. You were virtually all alone, your only ‘family’ was not supportive of your aspirations. Which gave you the mentality of: “fuck it. I’ll do it my damn self,” with a big middle finger to the universe as you chased your dreams.

Being such a stubborn person with a firecracker attitude was something that you both loved and hated that was inherited from your ‘father’, if you could call him that. You always called him a glorified sperm donor since he never did much to raise you and he drove your mother away when you were a child. He was a drinker and always took the anger that your mother had left him with, out on you.

“Never gonna amount to shit. Running away , just like your bitch of a mother. Good fucking riddance. Won’t be here when you fall flat on your stupid face.” Those were the words that your father left you with before he slammed the door in your face. They were echoing through out your thoughts as you zoned out in the mirror. You shake the parasitic thoughts out of your head as soon as they entered. Feeling determined to have a good time for your birthday, and not wanting to let your daddy issues ruin what you worked so hard for.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you smoothed your hands over your frayed jean skirt, the Corroded Coffin tee that you cropped was hanging off of your shoulders — your midriff also showing, fishnet tights on your legs and a pair of black Doc Martens on your feet. Your eye make up was dark, a hoop nose ring in, your hair teased and messy. Wearing a variety of punk bracelets to cover over up old scars. You looked like you were straight out a Hot Topic catalogue.

It wasn’t that you were necessarily trying to get Eddie’s attention, since his reputation was rather…scandalous. Tabloids always having a field day with all of his rude and crude behavior. You didn’t dress to impress him, it was delusional to think he would pay any attention to you — there would be a thousand girls there. It was just your birthday and you wanted to feel hot, which you did.

Later, after you finally got to the venue, you saw a variety of girls hanging around at the back of it hoping to get picked up by any of the band members, a habit they were most notoriously known for — they loved using and abusing their groupies.

Sighing softly to yourself as you wondered what it must be like. Clenching your thighs together when you imagined Eddie’s hands roaming over your skin. Picturing his ringed fingers creeping up your thighs…then quickly, you shake the thought out of your head.

Once the show started, you began making your way through the wall to wall crowd. Your tiny frame snaking through people, determined that you were going to get to the front. Eventually breaking through to the barricade, you held on for dear life as the crowd pushed and pulled during the crazy energy of the show.

Seeing Eddie up close in person was awe inspiring, you were unsure how he could be even that more beautiful in person. Still, you screamed along to every song. Letting the music take over and putting every ounce of your feelings into it. It was…therapeutic — just what you needed for your birthday.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Surely you were imagining it, right? No, you weren’t because he was starting at you again. When the lights dimmed after the song that just drove the girls absolutely bat shit insane, you could see his silhouette walking over to the side stage. He knelt down and was talking to someone before going back to his place in center stage.

When the lights came back up, his eyes were still on you. A seemingly curious smile on his face, it made your heart absolutely palpitate. And yet, you stood there and remained so calm on the outside. He held your gaze for a long time, it felt like a staring contest and yet it didn’t hinder Eddie from playing the next song.

A tall burly man, clearly a security person, pulled you out of the hypnotizing stare of Eddie. He was bald, with a thick, close-cut beard that was neatly trimmed in place. A rough hand waving in front of your face to get your attention as he leans close enough for you to hear him speak. He smelled like cigarettes and a really musky cologne, with spearmint gum on his breath. “Eddie wants you to come backstage after the show. So wait here when it’s done, I’ll come get you.” His voice was gruff, one of the deepest you had ever heard.

It takes a minute to register what the man was saying, blinking a few times with a head shake. You stare at him like a deer in headlights, he looks annoyed as he waits for some signal of understanding. Slowly you just nod your head a couple times and the man returns to his former post. Eddie notices your reaction and smirks as he looks away, surely pleased to know he has an effect on you.

When the lights went out at the end of the last song, your heart was racing. Eddie fucking Munson handpicked you out of the crowd? Your nails were digging into your palms trying to provide just an ounce of pain to see if you were truly dreaming. Wincing slightly when you realized this was your reality. The lights came back up, taking a shaky breath to try and steel your nerves once the burly man is approaching you again.

Without even asking, he has a hand out and ready to help you over but you shake your head at him. Leaning your back against the barricade, you rest your palms on the edge of it on your sides, lifting yourself up with a nervous tremble in your arms. Sitting your butt on the metal fence, the man puts a hand on your back just in case he has to catch you as you delicately swing your legs over and hop down. Pulling at your denim skirt that rose a little after getting caught on the fence.

The man had a stoic face now that you could see him in the light, he never cracked a smile or really spoke to you as he leads you through the dimly lit hallways backstage. Trying to keep pace with his long strides, you’re practically jogging just to keep from getting lost. The crew and roadies were hustling backstage to tear down the equipment and get it packed up for the next show tomorrow. You get so busy looking around at everything that once the security guard stops abruptly at a door, you run into his back — it felt like hitting a brick wall.

Laughing nervously, your cheeks flushed as you apologize so meekly. He just rolls his eyes and opens the door for you, making a gesture for you to go inside. Once you turn to face the open door, you see Eddie sitting there. His leg is crossed over his other knee, his legs spread wide apart. A glass of what appeared to be whiskey rested with his ring-clad hand around it on top of the knee that was crossed. He didn’t say anything to you, his dark chocolate eyes just raking over your body.

This interaction only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours had passed. Somehow you found the courage deep within your gut and forced yourself to walk forward into the room. Feeling like a bad dream with the way your feet felt so heavy, like trying to navigate through quicksand.

The door was closed after you cleared the doorway, gulping nervously as you stood off to the side. Eddie didn’t say anything as his eyes followed you curiously. Deciding to break the awkward silence you were feeling, chirping up, your voice cracking from nervousness. “So…”

Feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks, all the way to the tips of your ears. A small smirk played on Eddie’s lips, he seemed…amused. His lips parted as he took a drink of his whiskey. His nose scrunched up when the alcohol hit his throat.

Clearing your throat as you look down at your feet, trying to avoid his intense gaze. Your hands fidget with the fraying end of your jean skirt before you continue. “You, uh, wanted to see me?”

Eddie slowly turns his head to the side to look at you, seemingly confused by your question. “Do you really not know why you’re here, sweetheart?” Pushing himself out of the chair and setting his glass on his vanity as he stands. In a couple of strides, he closes the distance between you. Subconsciously you lean against the wall that you’re standing next to as he approaches you.

When he’s right in front of you, he pushes a strand of hair that that was falling in front of your face behind your ear. He was almost…gentle. Nothing like any of the tabloids described him by the people that sold their stories. His blown out eyes softened as he inspected your face. When you don’t answer him, he knits his eyebrows together, pursing a tight lip. “Exactly, how old are you, doll?” Another pet name, it made you rub your thighs together without thinking about it.

Your breath had hitched in your throat at his closeness, he smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and a mesmerizing cologne. He was so much prettier this close — and so much taller, he practically towered you. The way a splatter of freckles ran across his nose and cheeks. The dimple of his smile. The stubble on his face that ran along his deliciously sharp jawline. Surely he saw how fucking pink you were turning being so close to him, it was embarrassing to you, but it was pretty endearing to Eddie.

Finding the courage to speak, but speaking softly while trying to remain calm. He made you so nervous. “T-twenty-two, shit. I mean, I just turned twenty-three today.” A crooked grin spread across Eddie’s face, his dimple becoming even more defined. His smile was beautiful, he rarely smiled in photos or interviews. Everyone always saying he was the biggest dickhead to work and interact with, but here he was being almost sweet to you. He was making it hard not to just fall in love with him.

“It’s your birthday today, sweetheart?” He brushes his hand through your hair , his nails lightly scraping against your scalp. Not really trusting yourself to speak, you nod your head. He walks back to his vanity, pouring more Jack Daniel’s into his glass. “Suppose we should properly celebrate. Fuck you senseless for your birthday, baby. That sound good?” Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, even after reading the tabloids you were still in shock that he wanted you.

A small chuckle escapes his lips as he notices your reaction. “C’mon, sweet girl. You have to know why I asked you to come.” He walks back towards you, taking a swig of his whiskey. The gleam in his eye was devilish as his hand grips your cheeks, parting your lips for him. Your innocent eyes looked up at him under your lashes. An increasingly wicked look flashes across his darkened eyes. Leaning his face down towards yours, his lips ghosting over yours as he lets the whiskey that filled his cheeks trickle into your mouth.

There was something so erotic about it, you hated whiskey but still you swallowed it, with a scrunch of your nose. It made him chuckle softly as he leaned in, gently meshing his lips with yours. They were soft, his tongue parts his lips and traces the seam of yours before slipping into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. A small mewl escapes your throat, which causes Eddie to groan into your mouth as his tongue continued to explore every inch. His hand resting on the side of your neck, his thumb gently caressing the column of your throat — feeling your racing heart in your pulse point.

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Eddie hasn’t been this excited by any of the girls he’s picked, it was not normal — but he couldn’t stop himself. The noises you made were driving him crazy. He began kissing down your neck, hitting a sweet spot on your pulse point. Feeling your heart race a little faster and the prettiest fucking moan he had ever heard when his tongue ran over it.

Murmuring over your skin, his hips pressed into yours as his hands rested at the exposed skin of your midriff, his thumbs rubbing just above the hem of your skirt. “Goddamnit, baby. I’ve barely touched you and you’re making such pretty fucking noises.”

A light knocking on the door interrupts them, causing a low growl from the back of Eddie’s throat. “Ed, car’s ready.” The muffled sound of Tommy’s voice on the other side of the door, he knew not to enter when he requested a girl to his back room. He had learned the hard way back on their first tour. Eddie chuckled softly at the memory , his dark brown eyes boring into your deep blue ones.

Reluctantly he pulls away from you, causing a soft whimper from you. Eddie’s muscles tighten at the sound, fighting the urge not to just ravage you there. Normally, he’d be done with you by now. Most girls flung themselves at him, it intrigued him that you didn’t. It helped that you were probably the most beautiful creature that he’d ever laid his eyes on, but it made him want to really take his time with you.

He walks over to the chair that his leather jacket was resting on the back of, shoving his arms into it as he gathers the Jack and his smokes, shoving those into his pocket. He heads to the door and looks at you expectantly, a little surprised you weren’t already following him. “You coming, doll?”

He watched your nervous fidgeting, watched how your thighs rubbed together. It made him smile knowing the effect he was having on you, already imagining how you tasted. He walks back over, snaking his arm around your waist — smirking when you inhale sharply. “I’m inviting you back to my hotel, sweetheart. Now, you can say no. But I’m just trying to help celebrate your birthday with you. Would you like that?”

When you don’t answer right away, Eddie’s tone changes from playful to annoyed and serious. “C’mon, babydoll. Use your pretty mouth and gimme words. I can’t just assume. Do you want to come or not?” His stern look made you swallow hard, he liked that.

Seeing you nod your head, he gives a look that causes you to squeak out. “Y-yes. I would like to go back to your hotel with you.”

It was so easy to make you blush, it made Eddie’s chest feel warm. Something else he’s never experienced, but he couldn’t fight this urge that he had to be near you. When he opened the door and lead you out with his hand on the small of your back, Tommy gives him a weird look. Because he knew this is normally where he parted ways with the girls. Eddie just held his hand up in a non-verbal way of telling him to drop it.

Tommy just huffs under his breath, turning on his heels as he mumbles into the earpiece that he had in. “Got him, he’s bringing company.” It made Eddie’s eyes roll. It couldn’t be that surprising that he would do this. He could already hear the lecture he was gonna get from Tommy in a few hours after the girl leaves.

He watches your face carefully, unable to determine if you’re regretting your decision yet. As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he knits his eyebrows together, asking himself why the hell he cares. But there was this gnawing feeling there and it was starting to freak him out.

Once he helps you climb into the back of the private town car, he climbs in beside of you — looking over to your face. Noticing that you let out a shaky breath, he grabs a hand that was sitting in your lap. It captures your attention, your innocent eyes looking up at Eddie. Softly he asks, “Are you okay with this? Honestly. If you say no, I wouldn’t be mad. Surprised, but not mad.”

Watching you nod your head, he goes to remind you about using your words, but you put a hand up in protest. “I am fine, yes. I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t. I’m just…nervous. You make me nervous.”

This causes Eddie to tilt his head to the side, a small smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. He found it adorable how fast you were talking and the fact that he made you nervous was endearing. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, a feeble attempt at reassuring you. This was something he wasn’t used to, completely outside of his normal comfort zone.

“It’s okay to be nervous, doll. But I promise, I’m only going to make you feel good. Celebrate your birthday, make it one to remember. Alright? Just relax, I got you, baby.” His free hand moved up to your cheek, bringing your face to his as he placed a soft kiss at first. He began slowly deepening the kiss as if to not rush you.

The soft moans that emitted from your throat were ready to drive Eddie absolutely fucking mad. His hardening cock straining against his already tight jeans. A groan that was low and deep came from his throat as he continued to explore your mouth, his hand was sliding up your thigh. Resting on the inside of your soft, supple skin, his fingers were gripping so tight it would surely leave bruises in the morning.

Just when Eddie was ready to tear your clothes off, the town car comes to a stop in front of the hotel. Immediately, he pulls away from you as if nothing happened. A soft chuckle escapes his lips when he sees how worked up you are, a wild look in your eye as you try to catch your breath.

The driver opens the door for Eddie, he steps out and holding his hand out for you to use as you climbed out of the backseat. Tommy was at his side immediately and escorted the two of you through the hotel lobby, made sure the elevator was clear. Tommy leans in to Eddie whispering softly, “Same time as usual, boss?”

Eddie just does a singular firm nod of his head before stepping into the elevator behind you. Once the doors close, he pushes you against the elevator wall. His hand sliding up in between your thighs as his mouth was nibbling and sucking on every sweet spot on your neck. Taking mental notes on which spots made the prettiest noises.

Once the elevator dings, Eddie grips you by the ass as he picks you up into his arms. Your legs wrapping around his waist, he carried you down a long hallway, decorated nicer than anything the both of you had ever had growing up. But Eddie was too busy kissing you as he shoved you into his rooms door, fumbling with it to get the damn thing open.

That’s when you giggled, it made Eddie’s chest radiate with such warmth. It was like music to his ears, he cursed under his breath with a smile as he finally got the door open. Immediately, he takes you to his bed and sets you on the edge. Looking down at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

Eddie inspects you, your blue eyes with flecks of emerald green speckled through out the irises. The hint of freckles over the bridge of your nose. A plump bottom lip that was kiss-bitten, but you were chewing on it nervously. He reaches over and pushes back a stray curl that fell in front of your face, gingerly tucking it behind your ear.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He asks softly.

Your eyes move up to meet his, blinking away whatever you were thinking about. “Just, uh, you’re nothing like I expected you to be.” A nervous chuckle unwillingly escapes your lips.

Eddie’s posture straightens, his own laughter emitting from deep within his chest. He walks over to the bar set up in the corner of the lavish hotel room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Did you want me to be what the tabloids say I am? Hmm? Is that what you want for your birthday?” He takes a sip of the Jack, his chocolate eyes — that were just a hue darker than the whiskey, were peering over the rim of the glass at you.

He watches as you shift on the bed, your thighs clenching together before standing up and nervously walking over to you. “I just want you, honestly.” Noticing the sincerity in your voice, he searches your gorgeous eyes for any sign of deception.

“You just want me?” His voice is soft, but there’s an incredulous tone to it. Shifting his gaze away for a moment before returning back to you, he holds the glass of Jack up to your lips. “Drink.” He commands as he tilts the cup upwards, letting it spill into your mouth. It’s cold from the ice, but the alcohol burns your throat. He lets you finish the rest of the glass, a grin turning up the corners of his lips. “Good girl,” he praises.

A little whimper escapes your lips at his praise, it makes Eddie’s eyebrow quirk up into his curls. “God, you make such pretty noises.” His fingers delicately brush up the inside of your thigh, inching closer to your already aching core. “I haven’t even really touched you, yet.”

A wicked smile pulls at his mouth as he watches the soft gasp come out of you as he gets closer. Feeling the heat radiating from your core already, he presses firmly against the already dampened panties. A low groan comes from his throat as he rubs a firm circle around your clothed swollen bud. He watches you moan softly, noticing how your knees are already shaking. So, he snakes his arm around your waist to keep you upright as he continues to tease you through your panties.

“Already so wet for me, hm? So eager, doll face?” He peppers kisses along your neck, remembering the sweet spots that make you a whimpering mess especially combined with his relentless over the underwear teasing.

Nibbling on one of the sweet spots on your neck and sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth, it causes your knees to buckle and fall into him. Eddie just chuckles darkly against your neck, picking you up and setting you on the edge of the bed. “So responsive.” He murmurs as he begins to undress you. His hands sliding over your skin as he pulls your crop top off of you, revealing a black lacy push up bra. His eyebrows quirk up at the delicious sight of you, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Delicately he unbuttons your jean skirt, tugging down on it. “Need you to lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

Falling back onto the plush bed and lifting your hips so that Eddie can pull your skirt down, his fingers grazing over your skin as he does so. His hands quickly untie your shoes then pull them off. Bringing your ankle up to his lips as he kisses softly, hearing the small gasp from you made his cock twitch. His calloused, strong hands rubbed up your calves through the fishnet stockings as he slowly spread your legs apart. The thin black lacy panties already damp with the slick of your arousal, with help of the added teasing from his fingers.

His eyes scanned over your body, admiring your beautiful form. “So pretty…” he murmured quietly, hoping you didn’t hear him. Your eyes met with his, making his heart clench. Stuffing that feeling down, he hooks his fingers into your tights and panties, pulling them down slowly. As your smooth, slick pussy is revealed to him, it causes a low growl to form in the back of his throat.

“Fucking hell…” he mumbles as he places wet kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Gotta taste that pretty pussy, baby.” He nibbles the sensitive skin, causing you to jump away from him and moan softly. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he drags you to the edge of the bed. “Don’t run away from me. Gonna make you feel so good, pretty.” He continues to nibble on the inside of your thighs and immediately soothes the sensitive flesh with kisses, running his tongue over your bitten skin.

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Eddie’s mouth was all over every inch of your inner thigh and it was driving you absolutely wild. He’d find a sweet spot that caused you to moan a particular way and he would spend extra time on it. His strong arms hooked around your thighs and resting on your hips, keeping you in place for him. Slowly he inched up to your aching pussy, already dripping with your essence and you could feel yourself clenching at nothing. Feeling desperate to be filled with anything he had to offer at this point.

Unable to meet his gaze, you closed your eyes when he was almost to your wet cunt. That’s when Eddie’s rough voice broke through your concentration. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” The pet names were causing a flutter in your tummy that you didn’t like. It was going to make it that much harder when you inevitably had to leave. When you don’t listen right away, Eddie huffs in annoyance as he climbs up your body until he has a hand resting next to your head — keeping his body hovering above you.

“What the hell is going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He asked curiously, but there was a hint of aggravation. It made you shrink at the thought that you were annoying him with being so fucking nervous. He was probably used to being done by now with girls, and here you were — can’t even get out of your head for a second long enough to fuck the hottest guy on the planet right now.

Chewing your bottom lip as forces you to meet his gaze with his other hand on your face. “Can I ask you something?” You nervously ask.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, he was still clothed while you were only wearing a bra and the jewelry on your wrists. It made you feel extremely vulnerable. So when you sat up with him, you hugged your arms around yourself — trying to hide yourself as much as possible.

He had his head tilted to the side, waiting for this question. “Please don’t hate me when I ask you this, but what made you pick me?” Your voice was soft, insecure sounding as you shuddered internally at how fucking cringy you felt for asking that.

Eddie’s eyes softened, his fingers delicately brushing your hair off of your shoulder before he leaned in to kiss it gently. “Because you seemed different. And then I met you, and realized that was definitely true.” He chuckled, making a lump form in your throat. “Different is good, baby. Promise.” He places a couple more kisses along your collarbone and your arms begin to loosen around yourself. He murmurs along your skin. “Tell me your name.” It wasn’t a question, it was more of a gentle command.

“I-It’s Y/N.” You practically whisper to him.

“Y/N,” he echoes softly. “That’s a pretty name.”

Turning your head to look at him, seeing him be so soft and gentle with you. Where was the asshole that everyone claimed him to be? Is this what he did with other girls? Or were you truly different?

Eddie’s eyes had dropped to your arms that were now in your lap. Gingerly, he picks one up and adjusts the bracelets off of your wrists. Quickly, you try to yank your arm back from him but his grip is stronger than yours. His fingers trace over the scars etched into your skin. Old burn marks from your ‘father’ when he was on a rage-filled bender — putting his cigarettes out on you when you cried for your mom, and a few self inflicted ones. Wincing at the memories, Eddie brings your wrist up to his face, kissing the scars so sweetly it made your stomach flip.

His eyes were sad, which you hated. This is why you kept them covered up, it was the exact look that Eddie had on his face right now. It made you want to run. When he finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” His eyes meet yours, a gentle understanding in them that you didn’t expect to see.

He stood up and in one fell swoop, pulled his shirt off of his body. His torso was toned, littered with tattoos and some chest hair. Then he knelt down at your feet again, he held his hair out of the way as he showed you old cigarette burn scars. Something apparently the two of you had in common.

The tabloids assumed Eddie had a tragic backstory, as most musicians in the metal industry do, but whenever he was asked he would never give an answer — or he’d bullshit around it to change the subject.

“Seems we might not be that different.” He said softly.

Leaning down, offering him the same gentle kindness, you place a soft kiss over the scars. That’s when Eddie gently pushes you away, trying to distance himself again.

Hooking his arms around your thighs again, instead of taking his time with kisses, he just dives in to your wet heat. This was his way of changing the subject. A groan leaves his throat as he tastes your sweet nectar, his tongue diving in and curling up between your wet folds.

The sensation is almost shell shocking as you just lean back onto your elbows and try to adjust to them. He spreads your thighs further apart, shaking his head back and forth a little, his nose rubbing across your swollen clit as he does so. The moans that were leaving your mouth, you had no idea you were capable of making.

Eddie stares up at you with half-lidded eyes, his tongue drags up your wet slit before his lips engulf your swollen bud into his mouth. He sucks on it as his tongue deliberately swirls around it. Making pleased noises as he felt your hips try to buck up against him. Feeling his middle finger rub up and down your slit, gathering the juices on the pad of it before he slowly slides it into you. Inching it to allow your tightness to get used to his thick digit. He groaned against your cunt as he surely was imagining it wrapped around his cock.

Pulling back just slight enough to speak, his voice rough with desire. His finger slowly sliding in and out of you, but you whimper at the loss of his mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart.” Your pussy clenching around his finger at the pet name, he groans louder. “So fucking tight.” His finger curls up against the spot that not even you can reach, causing you to practically see stars. The moan that you let out impressed even you, but you couldn’t even help it if you tried. “Make the prettiest fucking noises f’me, fuck.” His thumb was rubbing circles around your clit as he kissed the inside of your thigh. The cool metal of his rings brush up against your heated core, reminding and confirming that he keeps them on.

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Eddie slid a second finger into your wet heat, allowing you to adjust to the added girth — preparing you for when you take him fully. Groaning against your thigh as he kissed and nibbled it, his middle and ring finger were curling and uncurling inside of you. Putting pressure on your sensitive g-spot as he slowly slid his slick covered fingers in and out. His thumb was still rolling around your swollen bundle of nerves.

He was admiring how pretty your pussy was as it clenched and sucked his fingers in. “Such a good girl. Making ya feel good, baby?” Eddie cooed as he watched your face, trying so hard to concentrate on forming a response, but your body writhed in pleasure and pretty moans came out instead.

He grinned against the supple, bruise bitten skin of your inner thighs as his fingers kept working their magic. Most girls didn’t get this fucked out until his dick was stretching them open. Eddie imagined how fucking hot it was going to be to see you react to his cock inside of you. The way your body was responding to him, he could feel you getting close.

Murmuring against your skin, encouraging you and coaching you through it — he could tell no one’s made you feel like this and it pleased him to know that he was your first. “C’mon, baby. Let go for me. Let me see that pretty pussy cum on my fingers.” Groaning against your skin with each and every pretty little whimper and moan that you made. He was fighting every one of his nerve endings not to sink his aching cock into you.

That’s when he feels your body letting go, your back arches as your hand finds his resting on your thigh, squeezing it hard as your orgasm rocks through you. The moans that were leaving your lips were unlike anything he’d ever heard before, he could feel his cock drooling with pre-cum in his tight pants. His fingers continue coaxing you through your high, your pussy clenching and unclenching as your essence was bubbling out and soaking his hand.

It was truly beautiful to watch and he was mesmerized, murmuring softly. “That’s my good girl.” Slowly he pulled his fingers out, causing you to whimper at the loss. A crooked grin flashes across Eddie’s face before his tongue lazily laps over your soaked folds. It causes you to jump with how sensitive you are now, but he just holds you in place as he cleans up all your sweet nectar like a man that was starved.

Once he was done, he stood up, towering over you as you laid there on the bed. Your blue eyes glazed over with a dumb grin on your face, Eddie grinned down at you. “Told you I was gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart.” His fingers ghosted over your skin before he was pulling you to your feet. Your legs were a little shaky, so he held you close. “How are you feeling?”

Eddie’s hands were roaming over your back, unhooking your bra and sliding it off of your shoulders. Revealing your perfectly sized, full and round breasts. He marveled as one of his hands roamed over the supple skin, pinching your pink nipple between his forefinger and thumb, rolling it gently. Your head falls into Eddie’s neck, overwhelmed by the pleasure still coursing through your body.

When you don’t answer his question, Eddie pinches your teat a little harder. You inhale sharply as a painful mewl escapes your lips. “Gotta use your words, doll. Quit testing my patience.”

“F-feel really good, Eddie.” You whimper out.

He caresses your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Good girl.” He kisses your forehead softly, he pulls back to look at you. This behavior was unlike him, and it was as if he couldn’t help himself. What the hell was happening?

Deciding he’s getting too close to you, he guides you back to the bed. “Get on your knees, face down, doll.” His voice was rough, a lot less affectionate than it was just a moment ago.

As he watches you do as your told, he finally releases his aching cock from its denim prison. Groaning in satisfaction at the relief from it springing forward and at the sight of your perfectly rounded ass. His jeans pool at his feet and he kicks them off to the side, he walks over to you. Immediately his hands are roaming over your plump curves, cursing under his breath as he admires you. “So fuckin’ perfect, sweet girl.”

Eddie’s cock bobs up and back down as it twitches from his arousal, the tip of it shining with his pre-cum. He can’t remember the last time he was so excited to sink his cock into a girl. Sure, he wanted to get his rocks off. But here lately, it took everything in him just to stay hard most of the time because he was bored. For the first time in a long time, he was worried he would have to focus too hard on not cumming until you do.

A wicked grin forms on his face as he remembers something. “Almost forgot, birthday girl.” His hand slaps against the meat of your ass, but you don’t yelp — you moan for him. He groans as he squeezes your ass. A perfect pink handprint already etched into your tender skin. “Mm, birthday girl likes being spanked?” His hand clashes against your opposite cheek, another moan as you fist the bed sheets. Your aching core throbbing for him from the pain, he growls softly.

Aligning himself at your soaked entrance, he hears the little gasp that you try to muffle into the mattress when you feel his thickness. A grin forms on his face as he rubs your tender ass cheek. “Issokay babygirl, I’ll be real gentle at first. Just tell me if it hurts. Okay?” When you nod your head, he slowly begins sinking into your slick heat. Rocking his hips back and forth to slowly work his length in. Eddie lets out a low moan as he feels your pussy practically sucking him in and gripping him tight.

“F-fuck,” he groans. “So fucking tight. Taking my cock like such a good girl.” His hand smacks your tender cheek harder than before and he feels you tighten around him, Eddie grips your hips tightly. “S-shitshitshit, don’t do that baby girl. Want you to cum first.”

Eddie begins to piston his hips against your plump ass cheeks, the skin snapping as he collides with you. Going slowly at first so that he doesn’t lose his control, but then when you start making those pretty fucking noises — he almost loses it. He pulls out before slowly sliding back in, bottoming out each time he does so. The room is a symphony of both of your moans, Eddie’s grunts, and your whimpers.

His hand hooks around your waist, his fingers rubbing firm circles around your swollen clit, causing you to throb around Eddie’s aching cock. He moans softly as he continues to pump into you. “Mmf, that’s it sweetheart. Want you to cum on my cock. Let go, I got you…”

Feeling you get closer, he begins to thrust into you harder and faster. Chasing both of your highs as he continues to circle your clit with the pad of his calloused finger. His other hand is grips your hip tightly as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts. Eddie can see your face turned to the side, your eyes closed in pleasure, mouth hanging open as you whimper and moan for him. Knuckles white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your body begins to quake, causing him to thrust faster. He can feel your pussy throbbing as your release squirts out all around his cock, soaking his pelvis and the hotel sheets below you. Eddie groans loudly as he can’t hold back anymore. With a final hard thrust, his cock pulses, his thick cum shoots out, covering your walls and filling you up. Eddie slowly thrusts into you, milking his cock as you both chase the highs and let it subside.

Your bodies are sweat slick and covered in both of your juices, Eddie tries to catch his breath as he slowly pulls his softening cock out of you. His eyes widen in surprise when he realizes that he forgot to put a condom on in all of his excitement.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath. His grip on your hips tighten as he realizes his mistake. “Stay put.” He mutters before he retreats to the bathroom, grabbing a warm, wet wash cloth. He tries his best to clean you up, cursing himself internally for being so careless.

Finally, you slump over onto the bed, exhausted and fucked out. Your eyes even more glazed over than before, a dumb grin still on your face. Eddie crawls over next to you, pulling you into his arms. His anger with himself for being so stupid melting away when he sees the smile on your face.

He sighs heavily, brushing your hair out of your face with his fingers. His voice is soft as he talks to you. “Sorry.”

You raise your head, your eyebrows knit it confusion. “For what?”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “I fucking forgot to put on a condom. And you’re so goddamned tight…I didn’t have time to pull out.” He muttered, his freckled cheeks turning pink.

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You hear the words, but they don’t register right away. Call it…shock. Your eyes widen and you blink it away. “What?”

Eddie’s palm drags down his face, he doesn’t say anything so that he can let the information sink in. “Eddie, seriously? You forgot to put a condom on?”

He uncovers his face, his eyes dark — worry lines already forming under them. “Don’t you think I know how stupid it was?”

His harsh tone stings, a lump forming in your throat. Sitting up, you stare at him bewildered that he’s taking this out on you. “Don’t take it out on me. It’s not like I’m the one that had any control over the matter.” Your eyes were welling up with tears, unable to control your feelings when you were upset was something you always hated yourself for.

Immediately, Eddie’s face softens and he sits up. Cradling your head between his palms as he kisses your forehead gingerly. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Confusion sets in as he apologizes and becomes so gentle with you. “I-If you’re worried that I would run and sell my story to the tabloids, o-or try to exploit you for money for a baby that may or may not come about...you’re wrong. I would never…” your voice trails off, tears streaming down your face.

Eddie pulls you down into a warm embrace, letting you cry on his chest. His fingers raking through your long hair as he tries to comfort you. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply that. But please also see it from my point of view, Y/N.”

Yuck. He stopped using the pet names that you loved, and suddenly his lips saying your name left a sour taste in your mouth.

Internally, you were trying to prepare for the world of hurt that was about to be bestowed on you once you inevitably had to leave. Imagining that his lawyer would contact you down the line, or maybe even he’d have you sent home with a morning after pill so that he doesn’t have to deal with the future consequences. Silently cursing yourself for letting yourself fall for him, maybe he was the asshole like everyone said. How many girls went through exactly what you were feeling right now?

His arms squeezed tighter around you, his lips pressed into your hair. “Hey,” he says softly. “Stop overthinking. We will deal with whatever happens, together. Promise.”

Your heart flutters, his words seem genuine but you’re not entirely convinced. “Eddie…” you start. But then you’re rudely interrupted by a loud knocking on the suite door. Eddie groans softly, finding a pair of boxers and slipping them on before he goes to answer it.

Laying there in his bed and trying not to listen to what’s being said, scared of what he could be saying. You hear what sounds like Tommy’s muffled voice, him and Eddie getting into a pretty heated whispering match. And then all the sudden there’s a crash of commotion.

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When Eddie opened the door, Tommy was expecting you to be with him so that he could send you home in a taxi. A grave look on Eddie’s face concerns him. “Not done yet, boss? I can come back in an hour…”

“She’s staying the night.” Eddie calmly says.

Tommy’s eyebrow quirks up. “The night? Eddie, are you insane? What are you even thinking?”

Eddie sets his jaw, his eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I don’t pay you to fucking lecture me.”

“You’re right, you don’t. But the girl is fucking bad news.” Eddie’s jaw clenches, but Tommy continues anyways. “She could stalk you, get too attached, try to exploit you by poking a hole in a fucking condom. Use your damn head, Eddie.”

That’s when Eddie’s fist collides with Tommy’s jaw. He knocks him down, he looks up at Eddie confused. “What the hell has gotten into you man?” No longer whispering, he’s angry. “It’s just a fucking chick! No different than the last thousand you do this to.”

Eddie stood over Tommy, he was a life long friend of his. But in this moment, it didn’t matter — he was seeing red. His jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth ground together, his finger was shoved into his face. “Say another goddamn thing about her, and you’re fired. She is nothing like any of them. So, get used to fucking seeing her. Now get your ass up, and leave me the hell alone until tomorrow morning.”

With that, Eddie leaves him on the floor, slamming the door shut as he stalks off back to the bedroom. His anger melting the second his eyes land back on you, you’re covered by the bed sheets — wide eyed and likely frightened by the commotion. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile to disarm you.

“What happened?” A look of concern flashes on your face as you noticed his already bruised knuckles.

“Oh this? Nothing. Had to put Tommy in his place.” He waves it off and crawls back into bed, wrapping you into his arms. There’s a slight nervous stutter in his voice as he practically whispers to you. “S-so, I’m not good at this. At all. This isn’t normal for me. Can’t honestly say I’ve ever had an actual relationship, per se. And before you start , no this isn’t because I fucked up and didn’t use a rubber.”

His fingers are raking through your hair as he delicately talks to you, letting out a shaky sigh as he looks up at the ceiling. “From the moment my eyes landed on you, every one of my nerve endings has been…electric. I knew there was something different about you. Something I’ve never had before. And I’ve gotta say, doll, I’ve never felt this way. I’m not saying we have to jump into something and label it…but I would love to get to know you better. Take you on some dates. And if you’d do me the honor, I’d love to make you mine.”

Eddie could feel that his cheeks were on fire, if his hair wasn’t covering his ears, he was sure the tips of them would likely be a deep red. That’s when he felt your soft hand rest on his cheek and pull it back towards you. He saw the emotion welling in your waterline, his thumb brushed back and forth along your chin as he stared into those beautiful ocean pooled irises.

“I would like nothing more, Eddie.” Your smile was soft, warm — it made his heart melt.

There was a brief moment of silence before Eddie continued. “My mom always played music for me as a child, and the songs always had these beautiful depictions of love. She tried her best to describe it to me, but I was just a kid, ya know? But I think it’s all starting to make sense…” he whispered to you as his thumb brushed along your kiss-bitten lip.

With that, Eddie pulled your chin up to meet his lips with a soft kiss. Neither of you were perfect, you weren’t trying to be. But Eddie knew right then and there that he would do anything in his power to spend the rest of his life by your side. For the first time in his life, he felt confident that someone else would do the same.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“You're a dream come true

Now I'm holding you

And I'll never, never let you go

I will never let you go!”

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