I saw that you opened up requests, and I was wondering if I can request a fluffy Jude Jazza?
I originally wasn’t interested in Jude, but recently I started liking Jude because of you~💜
Thank you!💜🖤💜
WAAAA JUDE FLUFF JUDE FLUFF REQUEST MY MOST VERY FABOURITE!!! gejgegreg ALSO IM REALLY GLAD IF I CAN SPREAD THE JUDE PROPOGANDA I have so many theories for his route and it just makes me more and more interested and ahhhhhhhhhhhh i hope more people come to see how great he is yes yes
Words: 2729
Pairing: Jude Jazza / Kate
Genre: a wee bit of angst followed up by some soft fluff!
Falling4u CCC prompts: Quality time, Twilight
All Kate had wanted was some quality time with her boyfriend.
It had been a simple request she’d made a few weeks ago while Summer was at that perfect state where it wasn’t too hot, but it was just hot enough that you could happily fall asleep, enjoying the sunshine on your skin. Jude, let’s go to the beach! She hadn’t expected him to be receptive to the idea, and as expected he clicked his tongue, and his expression morphed into one of pure distaste.
“Why the fuck do you want to go there?”
“Well,” she’d started, gulping down the fear and squaring her shoulders. Amusement danced in his eyes as she tried to stand her ground. “It’s the perfect time of year, and it’d be good to relax a little.”
“Go alone, then. ‘S’got nothing to do with me,” he heaved a sigh with his words, opening his book back up and peering down at the words.
“You’re the one who needs to rest more than anyone!”
“What?” he asked, his amethyst gaze returning to her; colder than before. “Are you saying I can’t handle this?”
“What? No- Jude-” Kate sighs, sitting beside him. If standing up to him won’t work— there’s nothing for it than to use the big guns. She makes her eyes as big as possible, her bottom lip trembling as she pokes it out slightly further than her top, and her cheeks are round with air and-
“Oh no, no you don’t.”
“Ju~~~de.”
“Absolutely fucking not. Stop with that face.”
“Come on, we never do anything together. I just want to spend time with you!”
Jude pauses. After a few moments his expression shifts and he’s smirking at her, very obviously up to something. Kate wonders whether she should be frightened, especially when he reaches his long fingers out to caress her cheek. The touch is all too gentle, it’s too tender, as is the expression on his face and every instinct in her body screams at her to run; but the warmth she sees, the love he’s showing her, it keeps her prisoner unable to look away from him.
“You just want to spend time with me?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, then,” he says, dropping his hand and returning to his book. His expression is now neutral, and Kate blinks a few times in confusion, unsure what just happened. “But the condition is I’ll pick when.”
“But you promise we will go?”
“Of course,” he says, his voice a smooth whisper which absolutely doesn’t align with the all-too-menacing grin on his lips. “When do I ever break a promise?”
Kate should have known.
She should’ve sensed it wouldn’t be the relaxing summer weekend away she’d hoped. Nope! Instead, she stood at the promenade, watching the empty beach as the violent waves crashed against the shore, the ocean spray hitting her already-soaked face. The rain coming down so hard it instantly bounced back up, soaking her from every angle possible. It had been a beautiful morning in London, and the dark purple dress she’d worn was absolutely useless to protect her from how bitterly cold it was here-
Jude looked unaffected and unsurprised.
“I can’t believe you.”
“Don’t sulk, Princess. You wanted to spend time with me.”
“I wanted to go to the beach!”
“And we are here.”
Kate opens her mouth and then thinks better of it, instead huffing at him and folding her arms across her chest. “It was supposed to be relaxing.”
“I don’t see what’s so exciting about the sun, anyway. You just get hot and sweaty, where’s the fun in that? If that’s what you want, I can make you hot and sweaty-”
Kate huffs at him, putting her hand on his face to stop his words. “I’m not sharing a bed with you until you make it up to me.”
“Then you’ll be sleeping on the floor, shame.”
She’s never been so angry; she practically sees red as she fumes at him. She knows it’s her own fault, she should have more carefully stipulated the conditions she wanted to spend time with him, but… even for Jude, isn’t this a bit much? He’s a cruel man, an evil man, he does bad things and he likes to torture and torment her, but… this seems a lot, even for him.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice, just for once.”
Jude snorts. “If you want niceness it’ll cost ya.”
“I’m your girlfriend! I shouldn’t have to pay for you to treat me kindly just once!”
“Girlfriend?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “When did I ever call you that?”
She can barely believe her ears, and for a few moments, she’s absolutely convinced she’s misheard him. It’s true he’s never referred to her as such, but what else is she? They sleep together in his bed, they make love most nights — she allows him to do unspeakable things in the darkness that would bring shame to her face if anyone else ever knew, and—
And he won’t even call her his girlfriend.
Kate isn’t even sure if she’s sad or angry anymore, and can only stare at him in complete disbelief. She doesn’t even pay attention as Jude watches her, his own face distorted in some mix of confusion as he watches her. Usually whenever he was annoyed, humiliating her made him feel better. How she’d talk big, promise she could take anything almost daring him, and then give in all too quickly with pleading, begging — he always liked it when she begged for him.
But this was… different.
He didn’t feel better, not at all, if anything he felt worse. Jude mutters to himself; he doesn’t want to think about it, it’s probably just her sulking that put him into the worst mood ever. He absently drops his finished cigarette to the ground and stomps on it with his shoe, reaching out to grab her wrist at the same time.
“Come on, I got business to do. You can stare at me like ya hate me later.”
“Of course, you didn’t bring me here because you wanted to spend time with me, it was business.”
Jude frowns. The more he says the angrier she seems to become — no… if she was angry she’d be fighting him a lot more, instead she lets him drag her and she’s silent. He can’t even feel her glaring daggers at him, there’s no challenge… there’s nothing. It’s as if some spark in her is gone and— he doesn’t like it. He hates it, in fact. How his stomach curls up at the idea that she’s genuinely hurt — that it’s his fault — it shouldn’t bother him. This is who he is; he’s a bad man, he does bad things, he hurts people and he enjoys it.
So where’s the enjoyment this time?
By the time they reach the destination, Kate is even more in a bad mood with how soaked she is and forcefully snatches her arm back. She doesn’t even offer Ellis a smile as he stalks over to them with an umbrella.
“Tch, if you had that you could have come and met us,” Jude mutters.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your date any more than I needed,” Ellis says simply, smiling as he holds the umbrella over the pair of them. Not that it does any good, Kate supposes she will end up in bed for a week straight with a cold after this. Even her lingerie is wet and clings to her, and the memory that she’d taken care to pick something perfect for him only makes her more bitter. Did he care at all? She’d put so much thought into spending time with him, and-
“It ain’t a fucking date.”
The rain seems to stop as her heart shatters.
When it starts again, her heart is in one piece thundering furiously in her chest as she feels herself shaking. It’s anger, she knows it, and there’s no way she can stop it. Yet, as she speaks, she’s disgusted at herself to find her voice is weak and uneven from the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Of course, it isn’t, because that would require Jude to care even a fraction! I’m fucking done!”
With that, she turns on her heel and marches off.
Fine. If he’s going to be a jerk she will simply make the most of her time; she’s at the beach, maybe she’s soaked and maybe it doesn’t seem like the rain will stop soon, but there’s still plenty she can enjoy. She can salvage the weekend, she tells herself, knowing that she feels so miserable she wants to do nothing more than go to bed.
The seaside town they’d come to was famous for its pier attractions; something she’d been excited to experience with him, and though she felt bitter at the idea of what could have been, as she stepped onto the wooden decks she promises herself she will have fun: she will not cry over him any more that evening, she will not even think of him, heck, he’s probably in his business meeting not sparing her another thought-
“No, don’t think about it,” she mutters, clutching at the skirt of her dress to calm herself down. She looks a mess and she knows it, but she’s glad no one seems to give her any strange looks. If anything, the added gale across the seafront explains her lack of an umbrella, and a few other people are about too, in about the same state as her though-
They’re all couples, she notes.
The amount of times she turns to her side to talk to him and finds it empty does nothing to help, either.
It doesn’t seem to matter what she does. If she refuses to think about him, the absence of him is louder, and if she does think about him she can only think of how absolutely mad she is at him. She goes over words in her head, trying to find the perfect order of them to say to him when she next sees him. He won’t care, she knows that, but-
If he’s so willing to just let whatever this is they have die….
He wasn’t the type of person to just fool around with anyone; she knew that and yet…. what had she really been to him? A distraction? Certainly, not someone he cared for….
Feeling more and more miserable and angry, Kate decides to take her emotions out on the attractions. She passes a few of them, none really taking her eye before she freezes and turns, now face to face with an obscenely large stuffed badger.
It has a ridiculous expression on its face which only makes her hands clench at her side. A few moments later, she’s put down as much money as she thinks is wise to throw the bean-filled balls at the targets. It doesn’t help, though. Each time she misses and she thinks of the badger’s dumb expression almost mocking her, she finds herself more and more frustrated until-
Perhaps… she should just give up.
Kate isn’t sure what situation she’s referring to but… either way it feels for the best. She’s tired, and cold, and she wants nothing more than to get on the train and head back to London. Jude could go to hell, he could stay here, he’d probably not even notice she was gone.
A deep sigh catches her ears, but it’s the scent of tobacco that she reacts to first. Even through the wind and rain, she recognises it. Jude is there at her side, his shoulder pressed against hers. He’s drier than before but… he’s panting lightly, and he doesn’t seem at all himself; there’s no snarky remark, he simply picks up the remaining balls and-
“What’s so great about a stupid stuffed animal?”
Jude’s voice is dripping with venom as he watches Kate snuggle it. The journey from London had taken most of the morning, and the afternoon had been spent separated from their argument; and now the light in the sky dimming, the rain having finally let up that they can stand together at the edge of the pier. Jude stares up at the sky; a few stars flicker here and there where the clouds part, but Kate keeps her eyes fixed on the ocean, watching the stars there as the waves distort and blur the light.
“He reminded me of you….” She answers at length, not looking up from the reflection of the sky in the ocean. The badger had, indeed, reminded her of him; its dumb expression, how it seemed to be mocking her, and-
Silence falls between them. Everything she’d wanted to say had gone from her mind, but she’d stood further from him than she usually would, and to Jude’s surprise, it was him who felt sulky over it. She should be all over him, snuggling against his side into that spot she was the perfect shape and size for; tucked under his arm seeking his warmth, asking him a billion questions about things he only had answers to half of, and yet—
The silence killed him.
He opens his mouth to break the silence but shuts it just as quickly instead. After Kate had rushed off, Ellis had sighed at him and simply told him that he needed to be clearer with his words: communicate his feelings with her.
But he wasn’t good with that.
Sure, he could make deals and promises; talk circles around someone so they would agree to his most outrageous of terms, but… but this? Love? Emotions… relationships… he had no clue how to. It had never factored into his life, things like hand-holding or dates, or even making love each night and missing her scent when she wasn’t there — they were all unexpected things.
Jude has absolutely no idea what to say to her. She wasn’t his girlfriend; she was more than that, something he had no word for, and this wasn’t a date, either. Did she really think he’d bring her to such a rundown place for time together? He understands why she’s misunderstood, and he knows he can’t be mad at her for it, but… e wishes she trusted him. That she thought better of him than to think he would just be intimate with a woman for no reason-
A low growl escapes his lips and he notices her stiffen, readying herself for the lecture she expects. Kate doesn’t resist as he grabs her shoulder and turns her to face him, but instead of sharp words to greet her ears, it’s his soft lips which meet her instead. A kiss so gentle she can’t be sure it’s him, other than the thick scent of tobacco mixed with something sweet it’s addictive. She wants to pull back, to demand an apology from him and she refuses to close her eyes, staring at him directly almost in a challenge.
One she quickly backs down from when she sees how he’s watching her, how his eyes are soft and his gaze so tender and warm that even if the ocean were so alive with the glittering stars above, nothing could captivate her so much. She realises this is his apology; perhaps he doesn’t trust his words, or perhaps he simply doesn’t have them, but how soft he is with her, how his fingers come up to trace her jaw and cheekbones like some priceless vase that belonged in a museum - this is how Jude says I treasure you, how he says I’m sorry, and how he says I love you.
London being covered in a downpour of rain was nothing new.
Yet that day it seemed excessively gloomy and oppressive. Or, perhaps, that was simply due to the thick metallic scent assaulting Kate’s nose. No matter how much blood she saw she could never quite get used to it — it wasn’t even particularly the sight, but the scent which turned her stomach. That evening, it was worse than normal.
She had accompanied Jude and Ellis on a mission, which, according to the pair of them was supposed to be all too simple that it would be a dull affair. She thinks back to the beginning of the night when Jude was picking on her and she tried to shield herself from his harsh words behind Ellis, how she knew he was doing it to settle her nerves, to distract her from how scared she was. A little bit of fear was good, it would keep her cautious, hopefully from doing anything reckless — but so much fear that her face was green?
Of course, he found it hilarious and pointed it out, but she knew his teasing was always to put her at ease. Or at least, recently it had been.
When had the night gone horribly wrong?
It was all still a blur — glass smashing, gunshots, a knife — hands on her she hadn’t recognised, so much movement, and then Jude’s smoky but sweet scent had filled her senses and she’d found herself in his arms and then-
And then she’d seen the blood covering his side and she’d almost fainted. She had tried to reason with herself; it wasn’t his, it was someone else’s, but when she’d seen him flinch when he took a step away from her she knew the truth and guilt washed over her. He’d gotten hurt protecting her, and, what was worse was the anxiety which took her over; not because she’d almost lost her life, but because he had.
She’d been stood there in a daze for a long time until Jude’s curt voice had cut through the din of the room to break her out of her stupor, and Ellis’ arm had wrapped around her shoulders to urge her to start walking. Then, everything seemed to go quicker than before, her breath sped up, her heart, her eyes flicked around trying desperately to avoid looking at his side but somehow always settling on the ever-growing patch of red-
“It’s gonna be a pain crossing the entirety of London in this,” Jude grumbles as they step outside. The rain is heavy enough to be bouncing back up as it hits the cobble streets. “Let’s just find somewhere for now.”
“Alright.”
“What?” Kate asks, her feet stopping. “Jude, you need-”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t-”
“Hey,” Ellis murmurs, squeezing her shoulders. “He’s right. Let’s get out of the rain first.”
“But his side.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That doesn’t-”
“I said shut up!”
Instantly Kate stiffened and clenched her jaw. He was genuinely angry, wasn’t he? She supposed she couldn’t blame him, he was mad at her… he’d gotten hurt protecting her because she had gotten in the way, because she was useless, because-
Somehow she always felt like a burden with him. At first, it had been nothing other than just wanting to stay away from him; he was an awful man, he was rude and cruel and had no regard for other people, every sense in her body had told her to keep her distance and yet the more she paid attention to him, the more she found that she couldn’t stay away. His words were cold and venomous sometimes, but somehow she found it was a toxin that she needed now — as if she couldn’t possibly function without it.
She hates him.
She hates how he talks to her, she hates that he smokes and that he smells like cigarettes, she hates how rude he is, how he doesn’t consider her feelings at all, how he’s demanding, how he can be cold, how he looks at her like she’s cornered prey he can’t wait to devour, the way he mocks her, the way he constantly harps on about her being in debt every time he helps her out-
She hates how he makes her heart race.
Those moments when he grabs her hand, when his hand will reach out to pull her somewhere — how each contact sends something shocking through her system it’s as if she’s suddenly alive and hadn’t been before.
Perhaps there’s something wrong with her.
Perhaps the past few weeks have been so absolutely crazy that her brain, her heart, is just trying to latch onto anything.
Why him?
Kate has no idea, probably because she spends all of her time thinking about how much she hates him.
“This’ll do for now.”
At first glance, Kate thinks the place they’ve come to is an abandoned building, but the inside is nicely decorated though covered in enough dust to let her know no one had been inside for some months now.
“What is this place?”
“Nothing important.”
She bites her lip.
Jude is always rude to her, but this is more — this is like he’s intentionally pushing her away, going out of his way to make her hate him, and not just in the normal way.
Ellis shifts his weight from one leg to the other and heaves a sigh as Jude pulls a dust cover from an armchair, sending a cloud up which causes him to cough and curse. “I will go get supplies,” he says, glancing around the room as if to take stock of what they had, or well, didn’t have.
“Yeah, whatever,” Jude grumbles, a groan in his voice as he slumps down into the armchair.
Giving her shoulder a squeeze, and an encouraging look which Kate isn’t sure she likes, Ellis leaves back out into the rain and she hears his footsteps splashing away until they vanish entirely.
“You’re not going to bandage it up at least?”
“I’ve had worse,” he shrugs, lighting up a cigarette and sighing deeply. “This is nothing.”
“Are you kidding?!” Kate all but shrieks as she rushes over, kneeling by the chair. “Let me see to it.”
“With what? We got nothing.”
Without explaining, Kate rips the bottom of her blouse and stares up at him, her eyes determined and firm. She won’t take no for an answer, she won’t accept any argument and he mutters when he can sense that she absolutely won’t back down. He hates her fussing him, he hates how she looks as if she’s about to cry and more than anything he hates how it does something to him. How it makes his stomach turn, how it makes his heart give a dull thud-
“Fine, whatever.”
“Can you at least remove your shirt?”
“You wanted to deal with it, so deal with it yourself.”
“You’re impossible,” Kate sighs, her hands shaking as she unbuttons his shirt. It’s not nerves, it’s worry. The scent of blood is stronger now she’s closer, and she has to not gasp as the wound is exposed.
The blood makes it look worse, she knows that much just from looking. She studies it for a few moments, before ripping the sleeve off her blouse and hurrying to a sink to wet the cloth. Jude’s eyes stay on her as she rushes back and forth, her hands slowly becoming covered more and more with his blood— he wonders if she even notices.
“Heh,” he scoffs. “You look like you’re gonna cry.”
“And who’s fault is that exactly?!” she yells, staring up at him. He hisses as she accidentally puts too much pressure on his side. “Deserved. Don’t— don’t even try and-”
Jude blinks, surprised that all the fight seems to have instantly left her, the tears that had only threatened to fall now streaming down her cheeks. Usually, he’d find it amusing, but this time it does something to he doesn’t like.
“Of course, I’m crying!” She yells again, her voice louder than he’d ever heard it. “You got hurt protecting me, I feel awful! And more than that I- I…” her hands shake and she focuses her attention on keeping pressure on the bleeding. “If you died… if you- I don’t- I don’t know what I would do.”
He’s stunned and somewhat annoyed her concern is with him and not at how close she’d come to getting hurt herself. It’s just like her to not realise, and his lips set in a firm line as he looks down at her. “Heh, what are you confessing your love for me, princess?”
“Yeah? So what if I am!?”
They both fall into silence, Kate’s eyes wide and her cheeks and ears red when it dawns on her what she’d said. Love? No… no that isn’t possible. She doesn’t love him, she can’t. This is Jude! Out of everyone the one person she shouldn’t even be interested in, and yet— yet she can’t deny it. It explains why she was so panicked, why she couldn’t spare a thought for the danger she’d been in, why she wanted to do nothing more than help him-
“I hate you. I fucking hate you.”
“Maybe you should try saying that without crying.”
His words are his usual, but his tone is much gentler than she’s used to. There’s no response from her, instead, she just stares at the bloom of red remaining on his shirt, the crimson staining his skin, her hands-
“Oi,” he grumbles, lifting her up far too easily for someone who’d just been stabbed. She doesn’t protest, too dazed staring at her hands. “You’re always like this,” he mutters, glancing around, before tearing part of his shirt not stained with blood. “Maybe you should look after yourself first, huh?”
He wipes the blood from her hands with a scrap of his shirt, much gentler than she’d expected. He’s slow and careful, taking all his attention and focus to remove all traces of it. The wound hurts, but it’s fallen to a dull ache and he’s certain by now the bleeding has slowed. This truly is nothing, yet seeing her like that-
“This is the wrong lifestyle for you, princess, if you’re going to react like this to every small thing.”
“It’s only because it’s you,” she mutters.
To Kate’s surprise, Jude doesn’t let her go when he’s done. Instead, his arms pull her against him rather forcefully, and yet with a touch of warmth that seems so foreign from his hands, but welcome all at once. She can hear his heart, a steady beat, constant and strong and it’s enough to soothe the last of her worries. She knows it was fully an overreaction; this was indeed nothing for Jude, his everyday life is dangerous, and- and if she’s going to stay close to him she can’t act like this each time, but-
“Thank you for saving me….”
“Yeah, that’s better. You owe me.”
“You caused my heart to fail, I don’t owe you anything.”
“That’s for me to decide, princess.”
“Shut up.”
Jude snickers, poking her cheek simply to annoy her. “Sassy suits you better than that withdrawn mopey shit.”
Though her mind lingers on the fact she had, all but admitted how she feels about him, and that he hadn’t said anything in return — she’s not oblivious to the subtle changes in how he’s acting. He’s made no move to let her move from his lap, after all, and she can’t imagine he’s the type of man to just… to just-
“I really don’t know what to do about you,” she mutters under her breath. “You’re bad for my heart.”
He’s silent but she doesn’t mind; simply resting against him is enough. At least, until he sighs and says, so quietly that she has to strain her ears to hear. “I’ll simply take your heart as payment. If it’s mine you gotta look after it.”
“What?”
Kate looks up at him, stunned, but she gets no reply as the door bursts open. She lets out a small shriek of surprise— Jude cursing and covering his ears, and Ellis just smiles at them apologetically, rain dripping from him as he lingers in the doorway. He studies them for a few moments, a single eyebrow raising at their new sitting position. “I got food and clean bandages.”
“Oh, good!” Kate murmurs, shooting up from Jude’s lap — instantly missing his warmth and scent — to take the latter from his hands. “I did the best I could, but-”
“And now you’re going to fuss me again.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, pinching Jude’s exposed stomach. “Let me fuss you.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“Hey, Kate,” Ellis murmurs, flopping onto the floor in front of them. “Fuss me too?”
She goes to respond but stops when Jude simply throws another piece of ripped cloth at him. “Dry yourself off,” his voice grumbles. “You’re not the injured one.”
“Oh so now you’re in need of care?”
Jude says nothing but gives her a rather satisfied smirk. Kate simply sighs and shakes her head, yet a small smile sits on her lips as she wraps the clean bandages around him. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go get some actual help? I don’t mind-”
“If anyone’s goin’ out to get help it’ll be him. You’ll catch a cold.”
“Ellis can catch one too.”
“Yeah, but he’s no delicate princess.”
“Don’t you think that’s rude?”
“It’s okay, Kate, I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, see?” Jude pokes her cheek again, before grabbing her wrist and tugging, causing her to fall back into his lap. “Now just shut up and stop fussin’. Rest.”
“Here…?”
“Do you wanna sleep on the floor?” His tone is gruff and — do her eyes deceive her? Are his cheeks slightly red?
Too stunned to protest, Kate happily settles back against his chest in his arms. She doesn’t think too hard about how safe she feels, how comfy she is, how much she likes how he smells, or how easy it is to fall asleep to the sound of his shallow breaths and the rain hammering on the windows.
The problem with keeping a relationship secret was that Kate found herself being asked out on dates with no concrete reason to decline.
Dinner that evening had resulted in both Harry and Liam trying to get her to spend the day with them, and when she had declined both over and over they had decided to have a contest to win her over.
It started off innocent but the moment touching and kissing was involved, Jude’s mood had fallen so quickly that everyone in the room had gone silent. The contest had been forgotten quick enough when he’d told them to stop doing stupid things but-
Kate had been unable to get the look on his face out of her mind, and so she found herself at his room, gingerly knocking on the door. He didn’t answer but she let herself in; if he wanted her to go away he’d say as much or he’d lock the door.
Instead, he was sat in an armchair in the window, a cigarette in his hands and his legs crossed. Kate gulps. Why does it feel like he’s expecting her and, why, suddenly, does she feel like a small mouse who’s walked into a very dangerous trap?
“Well?” He asks, his face impassive. “Come here.”
His voice leaves no room for arguing and she finds herself obediently stopping in front of him. Though she wants to point out that it’s his fault; if he wasn’t so adamant about keeping things secret she could have stopped the display herself, but-
His amethyst gaze is predatory and she lets out a shaky breath; one which doesn’t go unnoticed by him and Jude’s lips widen in a smirk as he stubs out his cigarette.
With more grace than expected, he stands up and approaches her. “There’s one rule.”
“Why are-“
He cuts her off by putting a finger on her lips. “I’m the wounded party here.”
“Are you kidding? If you would just let me tell them about us-“
“Oh?” He leans in closer, his breath hitting her face and she gulps down feeling warmth build inside her. “Do you want to tell them how much you like when I fuck you?”
“Jude!” she gasps, covering her face with her hands. “That’s not-“
“You know, that might be the best idea you’ve had.”
“What?” Her head shoots up, confusion crossing her expression. “Telling-“
Again he doesn’t let her words end, this time interrupting her by moving behind and tying her hands together. This isn’t new - he’s done this once or twice before and so she knows getting out of it isn’t going to be possible. The bindings will be tight enough to leave marks if she struggles, too. Kate feels her breathing pick up at the idea of what’s about to happen.
Then he surprises her by covering her eyes with- is that some silk ribbon? The moment her vision is gone everything else picks up. She hears his breathing; relaxed and in control, a stark comparison to her erratic breaths. She feels the air move as he stops in front of her, and then his hands are on her thighs under her skirt.
“Jude…?”
He has no words for her, instead, he hooks his fingers into her panties and deftly pulls them down to the floor. As he guides her legs out of them she hears him chuckle.
“You’re already a dripping mess, princess.”
Her face flushes as she rubs her thighs together.
“Ah yes, the one rule,” he says, a smirk evident in his voice as he holds her face in one hand; forcing her mouth open. As he pushes her soaked panties into her mouth he carries on. “If you move even a bit I will stop what I’m doing instantly.”
Kate can’t even protest with her mouth occupied and there’s something so erotic about her senses being full of her own arousal that it takes her entire willpower not to rub her thighs together.
Jude pushes her to the floor, her knees making a loud thump, then he sits down in the armchair and-
Is this it?
Kate tries hard not to squirm. Whatever he’s planning, she rather wishes he would hurry up. Of course, he knows this and she hears him snicker. Then her skirt lifts, and for a moment nothing happens; then finally, she feels the cold tip of his shoe pressing against her moist lips.
Already he has her so needy for him that the weakest of whimpers escapes her throat.
“I wonder if you’ll be able to resist moving at all,” he muses out loud as he presses his foot against her more.
The cold, firm leather of his shoes is both achingly sweet and not enough all at once. Each time he slides the edge of his shoe along her entrance she has to stop her body from pressing down for more pressure; but each time she doesn’t he rewards her, the tip coming up to rub against her sensitive bud.
It goes on like this for some time; he says little and the only sounds filling the room are her raspy breaths and the sound of her wetness against his shoe. Tears roll down her cheeks as she feels herself so close to breaking. She just— she needs him inside of her, she needs release- something-
“Look at you, such a mess at just this,” he snickers again and she clenches her eyes behind the makeshift blindfold as he presses his toe to her firmly. This time the pressure doesn’t stop and he continues to rub against just the right spot until-
Kate’s mind goes blank as she feels herself come undone. Even with her mouth occupied the sounds which escape are so lewd even to her ears that her entire body blazes with a furious blush. It takes everything not to collapse when she feels his foot move.
“My… what a mess.”
He pulls the ribbon from her eyes and removes her panties from her mouth in an instant and her eyes close as the light is too much to adjust to so quickly. Jude, however, has no patience to wait for her to get used to seeing again and lifts the tip of his shoe to her lips.
“Lick.”
“What?”
“It’s your mess. Clean it up.”
She knows he’s serious but - she feels something akin to shame flash through her as she gulps down. It’s almost humiliating and she hates how it turns her on more - it’s almost as if she doesn’t know herself, to imagine that this is something she enjoys. No, perhaps it isn’t that she enjoys this so much as it’s him. She trusts him, no matter what he does to her, she always ends up feeling good at the end, and— well, it’s not just that, either, but she can’t quite explain it. The idea of doing anything like this with anyone else makes her feel almost sick.
“I’m waiting, princess.”
Hesitantly her tongue comes out to lap at the juices on his shoe. A shudder runs through her as she meets his gaze; he’s so focused on her, and she can see his chest rise and fall heavily. The idea that these things have him worked up too increases her confidence as she continues to lick his shoes.
The moment she’s done, or at least when he’s decided she is, he pulls her into his lap with a grip so gentle it’s such a stark contrast to before. He unties her hands quickly, bringing her wrists to his mouth to place kisses along the red marks.
“I really don’t like when the others ask me out,” she admits quietly, relaxing against his chest as she lets him look after her. “I never know what to say.”
“Just tell ‘em you’re taken.”
“Then they will want to know who.”
He has no reply. She knows he enjoys watching her squirm when she has to come up with an excuse, but— there’s something else there this time as she watches his face. He looks almost conflicted.
“I don’t like it,” he admits eventually, arms now around her waist to keep her securely against him. Another kiss is placed against her forehead and Kate’s eyes close on their own, focusing on the sound of his voice. “They badger you constantly. I want them to know you’re mine.”
Her heart races.
Their relationship had started off as nothing more than a mutual need to let go, and yet she’d found herself coming back to him for more, and more and he never pushed her away. Not even once. It had turned from something undefined to something where feelings were involved; even if neither of them had voiced it, she could see it was true for him, too, with how he’d become more gentle with her after. How he’d care for her when they were done rather than simply leave her to sort herself out.
“Why are you grinning like such a fool?”
Kate laughs to herself, feeling lighter than she has in a while. It isn’t even telling everyone else they’re together that’s made her so happy. “I liked that… you calling me yours.”
Jude freezes for a few moments before he lets out a deep sigh. “You’re far too easy to please, princess.” His words are as they always are, but she can hear the warmth in his voice. His hands are gentle with her, rubbing her back and carding through her hair — perhaps this is her favourite part of their meetings when he holds her after. When she can fall asleep in his arms and wake up to his face inches from hers, his arms clinging to her body so desperately it’s as if he can’t bear to part from her. Those are the nights she sleeps best.
“Mm, if I am yours then you’re mine,” she murmurs, half asleep.
Jude snickers. “Trying to make a deal there, princess?”
“Something of equal value, isn’t that fair?”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong on the equal value.”
Kate huffs, waiting for him to mock her; to say he’s worth so much more than her, but it doesn’t come. She briefly wonders if he’s fallen asleep, and cracks her eyes open to peer at him; her heart instantly halting when she sees the tender look on his face. It’s so out of place to see his features arranged in such an expression, but it makes her so crazy she finds herself wanting to kiss him until she forgets her own name. Yet the tenderness conveys something he doesn’t voice; it’s not him who has more value, he considers her more important. Kate can’t see it; a world in which her worth is more than his, but she knows he has an eye for these things, and despite the inner voice telling her that he’s wrong, she finds herself struggling to argue against his appraisal.
Unable to hold herself back, she lifts herself and grips the back of his neck to pull him down just enough so she can place a firm kiss on his lips. She wants him to understand how she sees him; how maybe, to him, she’s more valuable than himself, but to her— to her… he is worth more than anything else, even her own life.
HEEEEELLOOOOO! I was wondering if you'd open more requests AND YAY! YOU DID! AHSIUEHSAEAS.
So pretty please with a cherry on top: Ikevamp Isaac + stargazing + sfw! Because sometimes I just wanna hold him close and squeeze him in a bear hug until he's wheezing! 🤍🤍🤍
HELLOOOOOOO I had so much fun writing this, it's so cute, Newt is so cute, and stargazing is ONE OF MY PASSIONS AHHHH honestly, I had wanted to write something like this in a while but I was always hesitant so thank you for giving me the PERFECT excuse to write it!!!
Heart
Isaac/GN Reader ☆ 1616 Words
If someone had told you months ago that at some point in the future you’d be spending your evenings in 19th century Paris, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot tea in your hands while the Sir Isaac Newton set up his telescope, you’d likely have laughed at them.
And yet, here you are.
And here he is, too. His hands diligent and quick, yet careful in their precision as he fits together his invention. It’s cold enough out that his breath comes in condensation and you sip your tea as you watch him; eyes flicking between the intense concentration on his face, and his hands, long fingers and how practiced they are. It’s times like this he truly shines like the stars he admires. When he gets to share his passions with you, when you’re here, willing despite the cold and the late time, to be at his side and listen to him.
“You’re cold, aren’t you?” he frowns, glancing up. Guilt is written all on his face and you shake your head raising the cup of hot tea and wrapping the blanket around you more. “Tell me if you are.”
“I am okay, Isaac,” you say softly, moving closer to him. “You need to drink your tea and stay warm, too.”
He pauses, eyes flicking down to the forgotten mug he’d used to pin down some papers to stop them blowing away any time the wind blew. “Oh. Right.”
You notice his cheeks seem to burn, one of his hands comes up to tug on his hair before he clears his throat, snatches up the mug and downs the contents- “Ah-”
“It’s hot, Isaac!” You say quickly, rushing towards him. “Did you burn yourself?”
“N-no, I’m quite alright, I-” he sticks his bottom lip out, despite his words it must have been unpleasant and his eyes shine with the desire to be looked after, even though he says differently. Always a contrarian. He clears his throat, stepping away and motioning to the telescope. “Here.”
“Isaac,” you pause. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
“You will,” he replies quickly, gently placing a hand on your elbow to urge you forward. He takes the mug from your hands, his skin brushing yours enough to send warmth to your cheeks. “That’s what I’m here for.”
As you peer through the device you let out a slight gasp. It’s not the first time you’ve seen the sky as he does, but as always it’s beauty astounds you. So many points of light, many more than you could have ever seen with your eyes; and so many colours. Blues, reds, yellows — honestly, you’ve no idea what any of it means, or where to look first but you don’t want to look away at all.
“Like this,” his voice comes gently, perhaps he’s trying not to disturb you — yet if you were to look at his face right now, you’d see a tenderness there, a love shining for you as he watches your face light up in a way which causes his heart to thrum. His hand rests gently on your waist, and you stiffen briefly, before he takes your hand and guides you in how to move the telescope.
“What am I looking for…?”
“Anything that takes your interest.”
“Isaac?”
He clears his throat and removes his hands and you note that you feel colder in the places he had once touched. Right. Stars. Not Isaac. Unfortunately. Honestly, you were content to watch him as he lit up, as he shined and sparkled and came alive with his passions, with the things that made him who he is — but he’s sharing his life with you in a way that somehow feels far, far more intimate than the joining of bodies and skin against skin.
“You’ll never discover a love of science if you’re always looking at it through others eyes.”
You briefly break away to look at him, eyes wide with shock at the rather profound sentence. Isaac looks away instantly, one hand tucked into his pocket and the other tugging at his hair. His gaze is dropped, but when he glances up at you to see if you’ve turned your attention back to the sky, a small smile alights onto his lips which you mirror.
“I’ll give it a go.”
“When you find something interesting, I’ll have a look and explain it.”
In the back of your mind you wonder how that’s actually going to work out; he’s far too intelligent for his own good, and when he gets going you have no idea about half of what he’s saying. Your mind wanders as you look at the stars, stopping every now and then to murmur your amazement. Perhaps you could find a rudimentary book to read while he works, something to give you a basic understanding so you can properly talk with him about the things he likes. You know he doesn’t mind, that if you so asked him, he’d try and explain it as simply as possible — but you can’t help but feel that’s simply a shame. It feels like holding him back, like caging a great lion and still expecting it to be king of the beasts. Isaac deserves to be free in his passions, to talk uninhibited about his work — and you want to understand him. Not just for him, it honestly is fascinating and it’s a once in a life time chance. After all, in the future, cities and towns are so built up that seeing the stars so clearly would never happen unless you went out entirely where civilisation didn’t.
You wonder briefly whether Isaac would like the future or not. He’d have no ability to walk out and simply gaze up from the garden, yet all t he advances in science and technology, all the discoveries and research — you can’t help but imagine he’d be much like a kid in a candy store. He’d have no clue where to start.
“Oh, what’s this?” you ask, stopping on a patch of a beautiful bright blue. It looks almost like an ocean in the sky, and you forget that you need to step aside for Isaac to see, far too enraptured by such a sight.
“Hmm,” he hums beside you, standing so close you can feel his warmth. He absently fixes the blanket around your shoulders, and as you stand up you see him craning his neck up. “That constellation is Cassiopeia,” he points and you follow his finger to the W shape he makes.
“I see it.”
“Good-” he pauses, quickly peering through the telescope himself. It doesn’t take him more than a few moments to let out a sound of acknowledgement. “That is the Heart Nebula.”
“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, trying to find a trace of it in the sky with your own eyes.
“Quite,” he agrees. “Ionised Oxygen and sulphur are responsible for the blue colours you see, and at its core are many hot stars which create stellar winds and dictate its shape.”
So far, you can follow along and you nod, now more intent on watching him as he focuses on his explanation. “It has a partner, look-”
His hand on your waist again, Isaac guides you back to peer through the eyepiece. Instead of blues and oranges, now you find an intense red which again makes your breath catch in your throat. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Yes, she is- it is. It!”
“Should I be jealous?” you ask, a slight teasing tone as you move to look at him.
“Absolutely not,” he says quickly, bristling at the slight pout to your voice. He’s entirely missed that you’re teasing him, and you resist the urge to laugh a little at how indignant he looks. “All the stars in the sky together could never be as beautiful as you.”
Oh.
You hadn’t expected him to say that, and not quite so matter-of-factly — and the way he freezes, his mouth opening and closing and his eyes wide, he apparently hadn’t expected it to fall from his lips, either.
“I-I… what I mean is, I— well… I- that is to say… well,….”
Unable to resist much longer, you wrap your arms around him and place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Isaac. I love you, too.”
“You-” he gasps, and you rather wish it was daytime so you could see how his face turns as red as the object in the sky you’d just been viewing. “I… well….”
“I’ll stop teasing you now, if you want.”
Yet, as you go to pull away, his arm remains firm enough on your waist that you can barely get an inch between the two of you. Not that you mind, any space from him is too much and you always welcome closeness with him. He’s warm, and as you move to look up at him your vision is filled with pink, a colour far more beautiful than anything you could see in the sky, and as Isaac’s soft lips press to yours, you can’t help but feel as if there isn’t a single thing in the world that could come close to being as precious as he is. He’s warm and kind, and you doubt you could live forever and a day and ever feel as loved as you do with Isaac.
And may I also request touches #2 with Mitsuhide? I love doting on that man so much!!
Thank you for this request - sorry it took me so long to get to 🥺
Blue Christmas - Mitsuhide Akechi x Reader (ikemen Sengoku)
A/N: Day 4 of my Twelve Days of Christmas. Also part of my New Year, New Celebration follower celebration.
Pairing: Mitsuhide Akechi x Reader
Prompt: running fingers through hair
Word Count: 562
Tags: fluff
It was a cold and blustery day in December as you strolled through the streets of Azuchi. Your hands were filled with bags brimming with gifts for all your friends, including an extra special one for Mitsuhide -- a small porcelain mouse.
Christmas was one of your favorite holidays – the lights and the trees and the family dinner of fried chicken were just some of the things that made this holiday so special to you. You had thought this year would be bittersweet, as it was your first away from home, but it had been anything but so far. Christmas might not have come to Japan yet, but there was nothing stopping you from bringing the spirit of the holidays here.
You had planned to sneak out that afternoon under the ruse of needing to go to the markets in search of new fabric – it was the perfect excuse to go shopping alone to get everyone’s gifts.
And then you ran into Mitsuhide.
“Where’s this little mouse running off to this early?”
Close. So close to freedom.
After you informed him that you were going to the market to pick up some new fabrics, you were shocked when he asked if he could join you. Of course you said yes – who would say no to their boyfriend – but now you were in the unenviable position of trying to evade the kitsune somewhere in the market as you purchased the presents.
As it turned out, Mitsuhide was meeting someone in the markets, so it was easy for you to shop in secret. After spending an inordinate amount of time perusing various shops to find the perfect gifts – down to Nobunaga’s favorite konpeito, sorry Hideyoshi – it was finally time to return home to the castle.
One moment you were hurrying through the streets of the markets in Azuchi, and the next, you were lying flat on the ground. Cheeks warm with embarrassment, you sighed, your bags lying scattered on the ground around you. Your only saving grace was that no one you knew witnessed your fall.
Or so you thought.
Your stomach twisted in knots as you looked up into the crowd and spotted a familiar head of silver-white hair, suppressing a groan as he approached.
“Little mouse,” he said, offering you his hand in assistance. You slipped your hand in his; he easily pulled you up to a standing position. His eyes flickered over your figure, assessing any injuries. He reached out a hand, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered, his fingers grazing your still heated cheeks, his touch comforting.
“You really do need to watch yourself,” he chided, his eyes fixed on a patch of ice on the ground. “It certainly would have been a blue Christmas if you had hurt yourself.”
You turned to him, your eyes wide with awe. How did he know about Christmas? You hadn’t said a word about it as you were waiting until the 25th to surprise everyone. So who told him?
He gazed at you knowingly, his golden eyes twinkling like familiar Christmas lights. He huffed a small laugh, and as if he was reading your mind, he pulled you close to him in a warm embrace, his fingers running through your hair as he held your face close to his heart.
Ikemen Sengoku | Naoe Kanetsugu x Main Character!Reader | G | 1.3k words
ao3 link
Making no sound
Yet burning with love,
Fireflies far
More than chirping insects,
Move me.
—Minamoto no Shigeyuki
A/N: For @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess's Summer Days Sultry Nights event. It's my first time participating in an event! :D The prompt I chose is fireflies and it's a Kanetsugu fluff fic. Dividers by saradika. Forgive the slightly anachronistic prose lol
I haven’t seen fireflies since I was a child.
It had been a passing remark, a slide of fingers across the textured roll of fabric patterned with glowing fireflies. In your gaze an odd sheen flickered and faded – blinked away – that Kanetsugu caught, stole his steps and his attention. But you’d already moved on to the next item.
He lingered, however, arrested by this seemingly negligible thing, eyes falling upon the object in question – a column of benighted forest hue, spattered with yellow-green dots that counted as lights, nostalgic in a way that invited a quiet contemplation.
You hadn’t seen fireflies since you were a child.
Later, as he’d lay with you on the futon, your warmth seeping into his skin, Kanetsugu would dream of floating orbs amidst a beautiful night, playfully dancing, up and up and up.
“Summer is upon us,” Sasuke said, falling into step beside him.
Kanetsugu ignored the man. He had just finished meeting with Lord Kenshin for an update about his territories and was on his way to the library when the ninja suddenly appeared.
It didn’t deter Sasuke at least. “Make sure your face is UV-protected.”
Not knowing what that meant, Kanetsugu continued walking.
But Sasuke kept on, unbothered by the lack of conversational reciprocation, “You’ve already done well with your body – covered and all that.” He glanced at Kanetsugu’s clothes, then hummed in thought. “I suppose it’s not that difficult to invent sunscreen …”
Kanetsugu let Sasuke talk some more.
“That reminds me – according to my calculations, it’s approximately three weeks from now that the Nigami Firefly Festival will begin.”
That rendered Kanetsugu pause.
He turned to Sasuke, felt his brows dip low. “What?”
“I once took my niece to a firefly viewing in Joetsu – which, by the way, is the future name of –”
“I see,” Kanetsugu interrupted. He pivoted to another hallway and left the ninja blinking, confused.
He’d forgo the library today, it seemed.
Lord Kenshin ordered Kanetsugu to quell a minor rebellion three towns away. That required him to travel a week or two, depending on the size of the men and the number of horses his lord would allow him.
On the way to his destination, he and his men stopped by a village at the foot of a mountain to spend the night. The villagers were welcoming of them, having met Kanetsugu a year before in another mission. He was a familiar and memorable face, one that brought a delighted smile upon the village leader – and a score of young women.
“Lord Kanetsugu,” the leader greeted him warmly, “it is an honor to have you rest for the night in our humble village.”
They made him and his men a sumptuous dinner – rather, a feast – which he tried to refuse at first. But his companions stared at the offerings with great eagerness, so Kanetsugu relented with a condition or two.
In the middle of the meal a girl came up to him with large, trusting eyes and an enthusiastic smile, and told him, “There are pretty dancing lights outside!”
Food set aside, Kanetsugu permitted the child to lead him to the forest right outside the village. They walked for a while, the child never breaking pace, and before Kanetsugu questioned the girl’s knowledge of the area she skidded to a halt, spun around to grab Kanetsugu’s hand, and with a vibrating grin she proclaimed, “We’re here!”
Kanetsugu blinked and looked around, and found what the girl was talking about. He heard himself take a sharp inhale, his body frozen taut with a memory.
Moments later he patted the girl’s hand on his and murmured, “Thank you.”
As they stood there, an idea formed within Kanetsugu’s mind.
“Clear your schedule for a week,” Kanetsugu announced right after coming back from his mission, opening the sliding door of his office with solid intent. “We will go somewhere.”
Perched at the center of the room, you paused from your work, wide-eyed surprise melting into excitement. The garment you’d been commissioned splayed on your lap like fishtail. “Oh! Is it a date?”
A barbed denial spiked through his mouth, but you’re blooming like an eager flower facing the sun, so he swallowed that reflex. Instead he answered, “Yes.”
Your smile rivaled the sun, your hands curling to form a heart. Kanetsugu squinted, and shifted his stance. “Then I’m looking forward to it!”
Kanetsugu exhaled, tamped down the rush of heat in his veins, and went back to work.
The journey back to the village went faster than last time. The residents welcomed them again cordially, and you and Kanetsugu stayed there for a while before he took your hand and led you outside.
He remembered the directions the little girl took the first time. Night had arrived, the full moon illumining the leaves with its silver light. It was also a good time for stargazing, but Kanetsugu had another plan in mind.
“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice inquisitive, your hand kept warm in his.
When Kanetsugu peered at your expression, shafts of moonlight sliced through the canopy and grazed parts of your face, one iris aglow – a tenebrist diptych of curiosity. It made you seem ethereal, a part of the forest night’s wonder. Something translucent and could easily slip through fingers. Kanetsugu let out a quiet breath, returned his attention to the front, quelled the nervous pace of his heart.
He stopped all of a sudden, which elicited a sound from you, almost colliding with him. Still holding your hand, Kanetsugu whirled around, and the spill of moonlight shifted to illuminate your whole face.
“Watch,” he said.
And you studied your surroundings, waiting for anything. Then: one by one, in the near-complete darkness, they sprung to life. Fireflies. Little yellow-gold lights playfully whirling and twirling in the air. One brushed past Kanetsugu's nose and then flickered away, and your silverbell laughter filled the spattered night.
“They’re beautiful,” you tell Kanetsugu, the curve of your mouth soft and warm. You extended a hand, palm up, and one hovered for a couple of seconds then moved on. The look you gave him afterwards arrested him. “Thank you for taking me here.”
“After what you’d said before, I had to do something at the very least.”
There’s a puzzled silence, your head tilting in question.
“You haven’t seen fireflies since you were a child,” he elaborated.
It wasn’t immediate when you put the pieces together. But when you did, surprise rippled throughout your body, and Kanetsugu was tempted to push closed your gaping mouth.
“Did I say that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Kanetsugu sighed. “When you were perusing some fabrics in the market. There was one designed with fireflies, and you commented upon it.”
“Oh,” you said, dazed. “You remembered that? I didn’t!”
“Of course I remembered,” he said, tone almost offended. But then – a whisper: “I remember everything when it comes to you.”
It sounded like a confession, but you knew the depth of Kanetsugu’s love and devotion. Still – it felt embarrassing. Vulnerable, even.
Still.
“Kanetsugu,” you breathed. Like a prayer. Like a marvel. Like the hundreds of fireflies dancing around them.
Kanetsugu swallowed.
“I love you,” you said, impeccably, implacably, an arrow hitting dead center. “I love you so much, Kanetsugu.”
He exhaled a long breath. “I know. And I you.”
You smiled, and it was more radiant and more beautiful than the fireflies and the moon and the star-filled sky tonight. You stepped closer to Kanetsugu, wrapped your arms around him tight, and sighed happily. He reciprocated the act, his arms molding snugly across your back.
Around you the fireflies continued dancing, their lights burning brightly.
VEGA x f!Reader
1.4k words | NSFW | Smut and Fluff
Content Warnings: One teensy little jealous thought towards the end.
Prompt Request: NSFW drabble with Vega because the world desperately needs more of that.
In your pleasure-clouded daze, you think you can hear a bell ringing somewhere - a warning that lunch break is almost over and classes will be commencing shortly.
Vega must hear it too. You're undulating your hips while you ride his cock, and his fingers on you tighten so hard that you think - you hope - they’ll leave bruises later.
“Don’t stop,” he whines when your movements stutter at the sudden noise outside.
He throws his head back against the pillow and exposes the column of his throat to your greedy eyes. You can’t resist the temptation to lean down and lick a stripe from the base of his neck to his ear, trailing your tongue against his jaw. His hips jerk when you nip playfully at his skin.
Warm, syrupy pleasure spreads through your body and all you can focus on is him. You rock against him with slow, lazy rolls of your hips that draw little sighs and breathy moans from you.
He tries to meet your movements - thrusting up into you, trying to fill you as much as he can every time you sink back down onto him - but his pace is starting to falter. He wants this feeling to last, but he knows he’s close. He wishes he could stay inside you and let your warm, soft skin envelop his cock until he’s mindless except for thoughts of you.
He couldn’t help himself when he dragged you into his room twenty minutes ago, having gotten back from an overnight mission earlier that morning and he felt so needy for you. He laced your fingers together after your previous class ended, and he steered you towards his room instead of the cafeteria to have lunch with the others.
His room was shuttered in darkness with the blinds still drawn, and as soon as the door closed, his lips were on yours in a desperate, frenzied kiss. He gave up trying to undress you - or himself - because he couldn't stop chasing the taste of your lips with his own. His hands roamed your body and you whimpered into the kiss. He pulled you flush against him so you could feel his hard, aching cock settle against your hip. He slipped his hand into your pants and groaned when he felt how wet you were already.
He walked you back towards his bed - carefully, gently - and laid you down so he could undress you and finally touch your bare skin. He took off your pants and underwear and threw them who-knows-where over his shoulder. You unbuttoned your shirt while he unbuttoned his own, and he fumbled with his belt. He swore when you bit your lip cheekily and palmed his erection through his slacks. There was a damp spot where the tip of of cock was leaking in his boxers.
He couldn't stand it anymore - he wrapped his arms around you and rolled over so you were on top of him. His pants were loose around his hips, and you pulled his cock through the seam of his boxers. You raised yourself to your knees and straddled him, and he held you steady while you lowered yourself onto him. You teased the head of his cock with shallow brushes over your entrance but not letting him slip inside.
"Please," he begged, his eyes clenched shut and his bottom lip caught between his teeth in an effort not to whimper pathetically for you to fuck him senseless. It was all he could do not to grab your hips and slam you down onto his cock, but he would never risk hurting you like that.
You didn't draw out your sweet torture for long, and he groaned, long and deep in his chest, when you finally guided him into you. You braced your hands on his chest until his cock was buried deep inside, filling you perfectly, then you finally started to move.
When you ride him, Vega is mesmerized by the way your body looks when you rock against him; he can't stop staring at your breasts and how they sway lightly in time with your movements. He cups them in his hands and pinches your nipples so you arch your back prettily for him. You push them out into his hands so he can fondle you even more.
When he's not playing with your tits, he slides his hands down your sides and holds your waist so he can push you down against his greedy thrusts. He wants to fill you so completely, and he feels a primal sense of satisfaction when a deep thrust causes you to choke on your broken, whiny moans.
He can't remember the last time he felt this desperate for you. He’s a fucking mess - you both are, with sweat-stained skin and the heavy scent of sex lingering like a fog around you - but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when your body squeezes him in the most pleasurable vice, coaxing him towards his release.
He knows he won’t last much longer, no matter how hard he tries to to distract himself so you can wring every ounce of pleasure from him. You're a vision above him, a temptress that drives him mad with lust and he can hardly stand to look at how breathtaking you are.
Closing his eyes to delay his release is no better; he might not be able to see you, but he can feel the drag of his cock against your wet, gummy walls. Your slick squelches quietly with every thrust, a sinful sound that reminds him of how much you want him.
His body trembles from desire and exertion and the need to consume and be consumed by you, and he can't hold on anymore. “I’m close, I can’t–” he whimpers, his words punctuated by his soft moans and his shaky, panting breaths. His body grows tense beneath you, and his thrusts are quick and shallow and desperate when he chases his pleasure.
You grind down against his cock and slip your hand between your legs so you can touch yourself. Your swollen, needy clit throbs from the friction of riding him, but it won't take long - you're so close to meeting your own end, and you want him to feel you come around his cock. You're whispering his name like a mantra, because no one has ever made you feel this good, and you open your eyes and look down at him.
He’s staring at you, and the brilliant blue of his eyes are darkened with lust. He's entranced by the sight of you warming his cock while you stroke your clit, and his eyes dart down watch your greedy hole swallow his cock. He moans when he can feel you squeeze him in time with your fingers stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.
It's too much for either of you to endure. He licks at the sweat beading across his lip and your eyes track the movement of his tongue. Your fingers brush against your clit just right and it’s enough to send you hurtling over the edge first. You gasp from the intensity and cry out, catching yourself on one arm and bracing yourself above him when you lose your balance and topple forward.
His hands grip you through his final rough, jerky thrusts upward while your walls flutter around his cock. He groans out your name, and he guides you down to rest against his chest while you both tremble through the aftershocks. His hips pump into you weakly before they finally grow still. You feel his cum trickle down your thigh when his softened cock slips out of you.
“I think we need a shower,” you mumble against him when your breathing calms down and you can form coherent sentences again. Your mouth feels dry and tacky, but your thighs are trembling and you don’t think you want to attempt walking yet.
His hands cradle the back of your head and he brings you to his lips for a chaste kiss, a press of his mouth against yours before he nods his agreement. There’s no chance he would let any of the others see you like this, with your flushed skin and bright eyes and reddened, kiss-swollen lips–
He snaps out of his jealous musings when you yawn and shift to lay beside him. You throw an arm over his waist and close your eyes. “Maybe after a quick nap,” you mumble sleepily.
“Later,” he promises quietly, basking in your warmth until sleep overtakes him.
Postcard from Benitoite; Clavis and Chevalier, with love
Clavis & Chevalier
Gen Fic
Pre-canon
My second entry for the creation challenge hosted over on @flash-exchange discord! I thought it'd be interesting to see the brothers back when they were much younger.
This one was inspired by a chat I had with @scorchieart on the new lore drop from JP and Scorchie's work itself!
“You’re too loud.” Chevalier scowled, his frown only deepening as the light shone past the velvet curtains.
“I didn’t say anything!"
“You’re breathing.”
Beaten roads turned to stone when the carriage entered Benitoite. It shook, as did the boys seated inside, one with his nose in a book, the other with marvel in his eyes. The thrilled boy pressed his hands to the window, frosted it with his breath. Pages fluttered, then closed with an audibly crisp snap.
“You’re too loud.” Chevalier scowled, his frown only deepening as the light shone past the velvet curtains.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You’re breathing.”
Chevalier returned to his book. However, Clavis could not bring himself to look outside again. The tutelage abroad? Diplomacy? Ha. Summer could not look any worse.
***
There were many things Clavis could list as bothersome during their stay. First, “their” tutor, an old judge with a head of thinning grey hair and a perpetually garlicky breath, combined with ears long past their prime. Second, there were the court visits and the negotiations, and third, the semi-dreaded tea parties held for “them” to mingle with the local nobility.
The worst, however, was Chevalier. By far. Whenever it was said that something would be done by “them”? It meant “Clavis, and possibly, Chevalier”. Barely comprehensible lectures delivered at a deathly range, hours spent listening about taxes on clams, being followed around by Emidio Ricci? All – all! – of it Clavis had to suffer on his own.
Clavis turned his face, red with rage, towards the sun. High noon, not a cloud in sight, the only sound the screaming seagulls and the humming waves. Lovely, or it could be lovely.
Pages fluttered.
Clavis clenched his fists.
“Can’t you leave me alone?”
No reply.
“I’m talking to you.”
Silence.
“Chevalier!”
Clavis spun on his heel, mouth open and ready to scream.However, not a word fell from his lips, the ever indifferent face of his insufferable older brother pushing him past his limit. Cold rage brewed deep in the pit of his stomach, the emotion eating away at any coherent thoughts until none remained.
“Fine!” Clavis threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Ruin this for me too!”
He stormed off, kicking up dusty clouds. The distance seemed to be on his side, as with time it reduced Chevalier and his book to mere specks. Only then did Clavis manage to calm down.
The beach was vast, with miniscule marble-like pebbles scattered across the white sand. Hurriedly, Clavis kicked his shoes off – the warmth below his feet felt nice, but not nicer than the lukewarm sea. Still mildly agitated, he pulled his shirt over his head, to then venture deeper into the waves, each taking some of his sorrows away. If he looked back, he was sure to see Chevalier – so he perished the thought and opted to float instead, swayed in the liquid embrace… pulled by it, as if adopted out of his miserable state. Perhaps he could welcome it, were his arms and legs not as useless as they were; Clavis swam, the shoreline diminishing despite his best attempts.
There was no solid ground anymore, only the clearest sky above and below. Clavis grunted, struggled to stay afloat, salt barging into his mouth. He frowned. A boat.
“Get lost!” He didn’t need him.
“If you wish to drown.”
“I can swim!” He could get back on his own.
“I see.”
“Chevalier!” He could not.
The boy stopped rowing, Clavis clumsily hauling himself into the boat. He gasped for breath, but the tip of a paddle still pressed against his throat. He took it in his hand.
Pages fluttered. Again.
Lord, did Clavis hate Chevalier… and his very red, very sunburnt face.
--
Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86 @rinaririr
Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)
Omg hi hi hi I love you and am very excited for all that is to come on your blog!!
Can I please have a little snippet of Kanetsugu with touches #9?
I’m anticipating his route soooooo bad and I wanna know when it’s coming out 😠😠
I'm so sorry I have taken so long with this one - I had wanted to post this yesterday for his birthday, so Happy Belated Birthday, Kanetsugu!
Cosmic Love - Kanestugu Naoe x Reader (Ikemen Sengoku)
A/N: Part of my New Year, New Celebration event. Also part of the Summer Days, Sultry Nights event I am co-hosting with @violettduchess
Pairing: Kanetsugu Naoe x Reader
Prompt: wrapping an arm around the other’s waist and starry nights
Tags: fluff
You adjusted the collar of your kimono as you scurried down the hallways – it was one of those nights where the evening breeze was refreshingly crisp on your face, a sweet reminder that the long days of this cruel summer were soon numbered. Weaving through the hallways, your heart raced with excitement, eager to find Kanetsugu.
About to knock, you nearly stumbled to the floor when the door flew open unexpectedly. Kanetsugu stood with his arms folded, a smirk on his face as he watched you regain your composure.
“What’s so funny?”
“Absolutely nothing. Except you made my job easier.” You stared at him blankly, confused by his words. He offered a soft smile, extending an arm to you. “I was about to go look for you. But now you’re here.”
Oh…
“Wait…” you asked, wondering if he shared the same reason for wanting to meet the other tonight. “Why were you looking for me?”
“Why were you looking for me?” His lips pressed into a stern line as he waited for your response.
Sighing, you gave in far too easily. But you had no choice; you were already losing time by standing here. “Have you ever heard of the supermoon?” You paused, stopping yourself. “No. It’s a modern term; you wouldn’t know it…”
“But I do.”
You looked at him curiously, until the puzzle pieces fit into place.
“Sasuke,” you both said at the same time.
“Well…” You looked up at him, your eyes wide with excitement. “It should be visible tonight. We don’t have time to waste!”
In a rare turn of events, Kanetsugu allowed you to lead him to the gardens. “The moon should be visible from this spot,” you indicated as you approached a quiet space overlooking the gardens.
“You did your research.”
“I did,” you replied, your chest filling with pride. “Sasuke told me about the supermoon. When it would appear and where best to view it.”
Kanetsugu smiled as he stood next to you, snaking an arm around your waist. Shivers crawled up and down your spine as his hand rested on your hip, his fingers pressing into your flesh.
You stood there silently, side by side, as you gazed up above, the supermoon shining brightly, surrounded by a sea of sparkling stars. He soon turned to you; while gently brushing your cheek with his knuckles, you couldn't help but notice the faint blush coloring his cheeks, his visage outshining the moon. Your eyes drifting closed, the faint fragrance of wisteria filled your lungs as his lips brushed against yours in a soft kiss.
Your heart swelled with love, certain that it was the stars and the moon that aligned, defying time and space, to bring you here.
Silvio Ricci gets a taste of his own medicine. [[heed the tags & author's note]]
▍silvio ricci x gender neutral reader
▍rating: E
▍tags: Silvio tops; Casual sex; Swearing; Name-calling; Silvio insults the reader some but so do they; Teasing; Biting; Crying; Light masochism; Silvio has a sensitive neck; Cumming inside; Reader plays with Silvio's feelings but he deserves it for being an ass; Come marking; Making a mess; Mild blood; Violence
▍wordcount: 2,000
▍a/n: be warned, this story might not be everyone's cup of tea. I aimed for a reader that is as "bad" as silvio, and perhaps not many can project into that. He would by no means treat the mc exactly the same way as he does the reader here, i'm sure about that, haha.
▍masterlist
"The rumors must be wrong," you conclude early, speeding up somewhere ahead of Silvio just to make him be the one to close the door behind you. The loud thud from his kick hardly disrupts your speech. "I've heard you indulge the ones who enter your bed more pompously… yet for me, no roses and champagne, no dangly little gifts from across the seas. I'm hurt."
"You talk too much." Silvio cuts, slumping himself against a soft-cushioned couch, as if declaring that this would be taken to bed only if it means dragging his weight to there.
Too bad that it hardly matters to you 'where' when the 'how' is way more intriguing. You straddle his hips with the enthusiasm of someone welcoming his lover from a winter-long campaign, and he cringers. He hates how his dick has another option about it, as soon as it feels the warmth of another sex against it.
With you, it's never straight to the point. He could surprise you with the cleverest makeshift mouthgag in the world and you'd still manage a way to speak to him in your innerving language. He doesn't bother with it anymore, much preferring to create noise than to cancel the one coming from you. Barging into random guestrooms saved for the less special guests, bedsprings creaking cheaply into the night; hallways that echo the filthy wet sounds of coupling. For one, it drives everyone in close radius away in almost laughable fashion and he gets amused. On the flipside, he gets dangerously alone with you.
He grabs a fistful of intricate necklaces and haphazardly pulls them over his head, his perfect fringe getting its first portion of disheveling for the night. He puts them on you instead, like it's regalia. You better hurry up and shake these hips soon if you so intend to make his dick your seat for the night.
Fingers begin to dance a courting dance as you undo the buttons of his shirt with no dangly loops of obstacle in the way. His skin is nice and warm to the touch. His pelvis all but presses back into your hands the moment you drag your weight further back his lap in order to work his belt undone.
"Don't you hate yourself sometimes for wanting my cock so much?"
He has more reason to adorn a nasty smirk than you do in the moment, but honesty is always less ugly. "Never."
His humming means a lot and nothing at all in the same time. Before he can say more, he is presented with a very tight embrace, head getting shoved into your chest as you cling to him as if the tar-black sea depths are behind your back.
"Prepare me, please… I'm scared of your big cock."
He scoffs in absurdity, recalling hushed thirsts in dark corners and declarations of it 'hurting so good'. His arms even have to fight their way out of the tight hug to comply with that wish. Deft fingers get to your spasming hole in record time as he loses no time to plunge two of them inside, pumping slowly.
You gasp and let your lips stay parted; Silvio seems concentrated in fingering you and you brush your mouth against his in the meanwhile. You trash your head away before he can get the idea you're initiating a kiss.
The blunt head of his cock rubs your hole, slipping in occasionally and making you gasp, yet he denies the entrance. Feeling in control makes him finally, finally enjoy something else than the rush of endorphins at the end of that damned act. He seats you down.
"Haah… here you go, you took it like a champ. I knew you can." He mockingly claps his hands twice or thrice, the sound of his palms coming together dry and irritating.
You squirm and make a marionette out of yourself as his cock ignites all pleasure-spot-fuses and the fire spreads. You do what is expected of you and gain sense slowly, grabbing into his shoulders for support. Slamming yourself down on him balls deep, you grind your bottom, then slowly ascent. On the fourth, fifth, sixth time, the dance gets less precise. You love it when he has to guide you, tongue clicking, warm palms on your bared ass.
You two move as one, each chasing individual peak, yet the goals meeting in the middle. Just another mutual gain deal glazed with forget hospitality, he is expert at those. At least you don't cost him much effort at this point, as you start finding his way back to him uninvited. It's a shame his dick feels better at your mercy than at anyone else's - it gets in his way when he tells himself there is nothing special to you.
Your moans spill in the night and you purposely curl them around the edges. Silvio can pick on the exaggerated ones but still marvels at the rest. You really need it bad tonight, perhaps worse than him.
"Whore."
Your answer is only to moan louder, living up to the name he gave you. He knows the way you clenched is not entirely part of the act, and smirks, repeating, "Whore."
Your hips speed up, knees brushing hurtfully even in those soft cushions. Slowing down is a must at this point if you don't want the night to be short. And it seems like you're set on your mind.
Silvio slaps your ass and his nails bite into it when you refuse to stop. His eyes are blurred with excited arouse even when he widens them in alert.
"Yours." You voice cracks around the single word and you mask it with another moan.
"I don't want to own you." he breathes heavily, hating his voice coming out strained like that, "I only own pretty things."
"Too bad owning them won't make you any less ugly."
Rage fuses with arouse as Silvio swears at you colorful words in his language that somehow you haven't heard of before.
If anyone is to see you two from afar,
They'd say you deserve each other.
Even if using all your strength, you won't able to outpower him, and it's a fact. You keep moving up and down in deranged pace that is designed to send both of you to culmination. With each rise and fall on his cock, Silvio feels like you're stepping on his throat, mocking him. He summons his mind to snap out of the pleasure of being controlled like that, he'd puke his guts afterwards if he surrenders to that ugly confession. The memory of guiding your hands to wrap around his neck shouldn't ever come to surface with a fresh example again.
It's when you bite his neck that he snaps, grabbing a harsh hold of your bottom guaranteed to leave bruises. It would be so easy to manhandle you off his cock, push your face down into the couch and have the game played by his rules. Yet, when he gets presented with that power, he doesn't know what to do with himself. You moan out submissively to him, pain numbing your cockiness - you give him control and he does nothing.
You start to wonder if he can even cum anymore while doing the old routine of fucking yet another bitch in doggy style; it's no wonder he doesn't flip you on your knees.
You can be good and help him out.
Daring, you test the restraints, nibbling on his neck. It's not like you're just now learning of his erogenous zone, but ignoring it on purpose in some of your sessions is more fun.
His hands fall off, empty palms turned upwards hanging in the air for few seconds. He fixes his grip on your waist instead, leaving you with enough room to lead the movement.
It doesn’t take much once you speed up, feeling his cock twitch and swell inside. Your hole hugs him oh so nicely, warm and tight for him alone, for a second seeming like it simply serves him.
You cum first, getting lost in your own game. The pleasure peaks and you're sincere when you call out his name. Despite your better opinion of associating Silvio with ugliness, his name sounds beautiful said out loud. Sil-vi-o. Silver tongue, seawater; salt, venom, viciousness, Silvio.
It's very married-couple-in-love of him to cum so downright simultaneously with you but here he goes. He moves you up and down when strength leaves your legs, and he fucks his cum into you like he intends to mark you inside-out. Your depths are coated thick and warm, and the profanities are almost melodic when he groans like that. You love how he gives you every last drop, not bothering to get his cock as soon as possible out of you but quite the contrary.
He looks at you after what feels like eternity but for your much-alive still, twitching sexes, it's merely seconds. His icy blue eyes bore into yours and widen with shock.
"Why are you crying?"
You snicker through the sniffles, labeling yourself as pathetic at this moment.
"Because… I love you, Silvio."
He pales.
The room becomes so still, so quiet with the lack of as much as the sound of breathing being heard. Silvio searches something more to fall from your lips in the absence of his breaths rudely interrupting you. Soon his breath runs out and he huffs out with brows knitting together, puzzled and with a storm of things to say casting on the tip of his tongue.
"Pfft."
A hitched breath.
"Ahahaha!"
Your laugh undoubtedly sounds exaggerated from the side; but your face brightens up so much as you finally release the laugher that has been building behind your lips. It's ringing merrily in the dimly lit room, and you're honestly just waiting for Silvio to shut you up but it never comes. Another set of tears stream down to wash away the ones from before, and they're born from different sources.
You better get up before Silvio remembers how to speak again. He must have been training that resting-bitch-face of his a lot, you didn't expect it to see it adorning his ugly features so soon.
Using his shoulders for balance, you get up from the gross, softened cock that gave you so much pleasure previously. Instead of making this as fast and as inconsequential as possible, you linger over him, looking down at the place where you have been joined. His cum starts to leak out, and you let it. It dirties the front of Silvio's pants while he is busy being out of his mind.
"Oh, you dirty whore."
You fight the urge to say Welcome back, Silvio, and instead roll your eyes at him. "This is getting old. Get creative."
Silvio huffs out a laugher, not knowing himself where it came from. He starts fantasizing how to take you next, but his naughty thoughts are interrupted by the sight of you fixing your clothing.
You grab into the necklaces and unceremoniously throw them at the glossy marble floor with a horrific jiggle. Their quality is put the ultimate test but no runaway beads roll underneath furniture; not that Silvio cares.
He understands what it would mean to call back to you and stop you from leaving. He can't deal with being more grossed at himself any more tonight.
Blowing a kiss behind your shoulder, you leave.
The night is still so, so damn young. Sleep would never come to him. Being alone would be agonizing. Getting his shit together and going downstairs where another high-society gathering is taking place is unthinkable. He'd puke at the sight of a flirting woman right now.
With the rage of a man deemed to suffer until his last breath, Silvio screams his lungs; the sound masking the one of a shoved down decorative table nearby. His knuckles get stupidly bruised to blood somehow and it gets on his shirt when he fixes his collar. Just great.
Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @katriniac @aceuuuuu @atelieredux @ikemen-prince-writers-posts Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!
Thank you for voting blue. It was a very Sirius fight but Prince Silvio claimed the blue throne.
As I mentioned in the last poll, the result will reflect for the last colour, indigo/dark blue. If Sirius had won, I would continue to make the last poll. But, since Ikerev has no representation until now, I had gone full veto and put Ray into the wheel.
Naoe Kanetsugu - Yves Kloss - William Rex - Rio Ortiz - Vincent van Gogh - Sarutobi Sasuke - Silvio Ricci - Ray Blackwell
Thank you for coming until the end of the challenge, though, sorry for the remaining suitors for the last colour. This wheel wouldn't be filled without your votes, likes and reblogs.
I had really fun drawing this and would like to do a challenge like this again. This wheel is also my 1st Ikepri fanart that I post online. This wheel also features characters that I never drawn before, so it's a good practice.
...you're such a genius, Scum, I hope you realize it. This whole story just projected itself on a little screen in my head begging me to write it asap, i'm screaming!! Hope you like it!!
[ 🌈 character x character or genderbent!character x mc requests OPEN 🌈 ]
For Different Universe, Same Love content creation challenge, hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and me.
"Then I'll take whatever you're reading."
Isaac looks at the casually shrugging man blankly, his movements almost robotic as he lifts the cover of the book he was reading while waiting for customers. Stories of Outdoor Science; hardback, red cover, ancient looking.
"So you like the outdoors? Would you like to go on a date with me one of these days?"
"We don't sell this book."
Cold-served rejection aside, there are some ironic undertones in the whole ordeal of lifting the book for the chatty customer's eyes, but it's not the "it's obvious you can't find this old thing here, are you stupid?". Arthur would place his bets instead on "it's obvious such book wouldn't interest you, are you stupid?" - but that prejudice is, perhaps, earned on his end. Ever since the red-haired cashier caught Arthur's eye, he's been frequenting this bookstore a lot, bringing to the cash register books of all kinds. He can't blame him. A writer in disguise who's in a search for a good reference book is utterly unpredictable with his choices.
Well. The eye contact is excessive sometimes, and he tried slipping a note with his number on it across the cash register once. Maybe his visits do seem to have a pattern to them, unlike the books he picks.
Not that Arthur can help it - recently all things red in his writings tend to get compared to tomatoes, apples, Isaac.
"That's a pity. I'll fetch myself something from the Staff picks shelf if you don't mind, then. Oh, and, if you'd be so kind, I'd love it if you could give me another one of those reading glasses straps? I've yet again lost mine somewhere, some careless chap that I am..."
A barely contained sigh coming from behind the cash register; there is it again. They've got those in the back, if Arthur is not mistaken. After another second and a brief nod, the clerk turns around and soon exits Arthur's sight. Deep blue eyes scan the Staff picks shelf that is just to his right. Hardback. Red cover.
"Would you like anything else?"
"No thank you. That would be all."
Picking up the tune he was humming before entering the store, Arthur is already out in the street again, passing by some women whose eyes linger on him and barely noticing them at all.
He returns home dateless for the night, but he has an interesting new read in his bag instead. Something hardbacked, red and ancient. Exchanging numbers just doesn't work on some guys, you gotta be creative and find something else to exchange.
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Oh Nobunaga! My favorite tyrant of the heart ^_^ Approx. 900 words of our carnelian-eyed menace and heat.
Nobunaga could not sleep. The air in the tenshu was thick and hot and still. The night sky above, clouded and heavy, as if conspiring to keep the darkness as sweltering as the day. He shifted disconsolately on his futon, until he finally gave up on the notion and went to stand on his balcony.
There wasn’t enough breeze to even stir his hair, but just being out here made him feel a little better. His thoughts spun through the events of the day, the concerns of his growing empire, and finally, with some anticipation, landed on the chatelaine. She’d been avoiding him of late. He knew it. Afraid of what another game of go might cause her to yield.
He smiled, thinking of her saucy responses to him. When she forgot to be nervous, she was deeply amusing. And more. There was something about his lucky charm that made him feel peaceful. That was what he wanted right now.
Nobunaga sent a servant scurrying to fetch her.
She came up the stairs with a reluctant gait. He could almost hear the resistance to his summons in every step. And the first words out of her mouth as she entered his room were defiant. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“No. Do you?” He glanced at her over his shoulder. She stood in the dimlit room, as distant as she could get from his balcony perch.
“Well . . . not exactly, no. But it’s really late. Or early. Anyway, that’s not the point! I was sleeping and you sent someone to wake me up! They had me dress in a hurry and run up here and - and there’s not even an emergency.” She ran her fingers through her hair, suddenly all nerves again, the anger bleeding out of her.
Nobunaga felt an uncharacteristic guilt over waking her like that. She must have been worried to get such a vague, urgent message. But he shunted that emotion away and gave no sign of it in his expression. “Come here.”
She took a few steps in his direction, then paused. “You aren’t planning to play go, are you? Because I’m way too tired for that.”
“No. No games tonight.” He looked back out over the town, listening to her slow steps.
The chatelaine stopped at the railing, more than an armslength away. “Well, good.” Then her head snapped up at some sudden thought. “I hope you aren’t under the impression I’m going to warm your bed either. I thought we were clear on that.”
“Warm my bed?” Nobunaga chuckled. “On a night like this, I think it is quite hot enough.”
“Then . . . what do you want?”
Just you, he thought, his carnelian eyes turning toward her. He took in her lovely profile, the wisps of loose hair that clung to her neck and stuck to her cheek. “Sit.”
Her jaw clenched. “I am not some pet you can order around, mister warlord.”
He grinned. Ah that fire of hers. “Fireball, sit. Please.”
She seemed to debate whether or not the courtesy was enough. Apparently the yes vote won out as she sat down and leaned her back against the railing. “There’s a little bit of a breeze up here at least. I think it’s cooler than my room.”
“Is it?” He turned toward her. She was wearing a hastily tied kimono, thin enough that it was almost opaque had there been any light to shine through it. Her bare legs stuck out the bottom, showing his conquered territory up to her silken thigh. But he didn’t feel lust for her tonight - or not much - just a satisfaction that she was here.
The chatelaine nodded.
Nobunaga lowered himself to the floor near her.
“Umm. What are you doing?” She eyed him the way she might a strange dog, one that was equally likely to bite as to wag his tail.
He grinned. “Just be still. I am not conquering new territory tonight. And then he laid down, settling his head on those lovely thighs. “You will be my pillow.”
The chatelaine shifted a bit under him, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “I don’t think I like this. Wouldn’t you rather have a real pillow? I can get one for you.”
“No. Now be quiet.” He shut his eyes and let himself relax into her presence. Her soft skin, the slight sweet floral scent of her perfume, and the sound of her breath and heart beat eased his tension. “Talk to me,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Tell me about your work. Your day. Anything you like.” He kept his eyes closed, cheek pressed to her leg. It was comfortable there, despite the heat. Perhaps it was just the softness of her. The gentleness that she carried with her everywhere she went.
The chatelaine sighed and after a moment, began to talk. She told him about her day. The work she did, the things she saw, people she met. There was so much joy in it. He fell still, his restlessness retreating. And with his stillness, she too let go of her worry.
Nobunaga felt himself drifting into an empty, peaceful darkness. A place where his ambitions did not reach. A place where his burdens did not exist.
As he let himself sink into that space, he felt her cool fingers brush his hair back from his face. “You know, like this you’re much cuter,” the chatelaine said softly. There was warm affection in her voice and in her touch.
His last thought before the darkness took him was of her. How precious she’d become to him. Love, his dream-self whispered, though waking he would have denied it.
origamiaround
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
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