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sinsofsummers · 11 months

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sensational; part ii

6.8k | joel miller x f!innocent!reader follow-up to sensational

summary: you've tasked joel with teaching you about all of the things you missed. he's back for more...teaching moments. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. softdom!joel vibes in this one, joel gives reader an anatomy lesson, pet names (lots of dollface) fingering, praise kink to the gods, masturbation (f and brief m), reader gives joel a hand(y), grinding, bit of a corruption kink toward the end, jesus there might need to be a part 3 note: well. look at what you guys did. you went and loved on sensational so much and asked for a part 2 so often that i just had to grant your wishes. i hope you’re fckn happy✌🏼🥹 (this is all jokes i’m so excited to write more of this dynamic teehee)

You'd never counted yourself as a dreamer of any sort; when sleep clouded your brain at night, every thought faded along with it. Aside from the occasional nightmare, reminding you of your parents' absence, you hadn't had an actual dream since you were a kid.

Of course, that night in Joel's house had changed everything, in every possible way. In just an hour or so he had taken your world into his hands, shaped it, flipped it, and returned it to you, unrecognizable. His name was carved into everything you saw and touched, and this included your dreams.

He was everywhere in your head when you slept. So much so that you'd begun to forget which was reality and which was a figment of your imagination, which made your patrols with him all the more humiliating.

Your hands were cold. It was all you could focus on as you followed Joel along your normal patrol route. Just twelve hours had passed since that night in his house, when he'd touched you with rough hands and what taught you what it meant to feel desired. His words still rang clear in your head days later:

Trust me, doll. I've got so much more to teach you.

It sent your head reeling just to think about it now. The memory of his fingertips grazing the side of your face as he'd said it, those brown eyes sparkling with desire for you—a vision of contentment.

You had leaned into his touch subconsciously, reaching a hand up to trace the line of his wrist. His eyes had darted to where your fingers pressed to his skin, a soft grin replacing his satisfied smirk. "I'd better get you home, then," he'd whispered.

It had taken everything in you to ignore the small pang of disappointment that had bloomed in your gut, but it was an easier task when he'd dropped his lips to your forehead.

"No one'll miss me at home," you'd protested quietly, trying not to relish too much in the feeling of his beard scratching at the space between your eyebrows.

This sentiment was true. You still didn't know how things had worked out so well, but after arriving in Jackson, Tommy (the fact that it was Joel's younger brother made this seem all the less coincidental) and Maria had been more than accommodating. They'd offered you your own space, a house to yourself. Granted, it was much smaller than Joel's, but it was your own. It had become home in the four short years you'd lived in Jackson.

No one was waiting for you at home. It was a fact that used to make your throat close up, memories taunting you every moment they could. Now it was a welcomed thought, if it meant that you could remain in the heady presence of Joel Miller.

But he'd only shaken his head, his brown eyes flitting down to your lips before returning to your gaze. "I'm sure they'll notice when you don't come strolling out of your own place in the mornin'," he'd insisted gently. His thumb traced your bottom lip when your shoulders slumped. You hoped you didn't look as pitiful as you felt, your lip threatening to push outward in a pout.

"Might not be able to keep my hands to myself tonight if I let you stay," he'd breathed. You didn't care if he said it as an apology, or if it was actually true.

Because who were you to disagree with him? It was Joel.

So without more than a lingering hand on your wrist, he'd walked you to your door. When you'd teased him for such a chivalrous act, he'd cocked an eyebrow, glancing sideways at you. "Can't just let you walk home alone after that," he'd scoffed, his voice rough again in the outdoors. A few people were still milling about despite it being darker than pitch after nightfall. "M'not a complete scoundrel," he said with a wry grin.

Your front door always looked so inviting, a place for you to take a breath and relax after a long day. In that moment, it was taking everything in you to put one foot in front of the other and return to your own place.

"Scoundrel," you'd mused, hoping the amusement in your voice covered the way you leaned back with every step, as if you could claim one more touch of his body—arm, chest, shoulder—to send you to bed with nothing but him on your mind. "Kind of a big word, wouldn't you say?" you'd teased him, just as he'd done to you. "Sure you know what it means?"

The twitch of his jaw was enough of a reward for your attempt at humor, but your satisfied smirk had been wiped clean off your face when he'd darted a glance around before leaning in, hovering just centimeters from your face.

It occurred to you in that moment that you'd truly only kissed him once. A shame, a voice in your head sighed. His lips were devastatingly plump, even in the darkness.

Joel had stayed there, his eyes tearing down to your mouth before warning you in that deliciously low baritone, "I know what it is. Best get inside," his jaw twitched once more and you caught him clenching and unclenching his fists, "'fore I show you what it means to be a scoundrel."

You'd gone inside with a shaky breath and the return of that familiar pulse that, it seemed, only he knew how to ignite.

—

Joel chose not to look in the mirror when he'd gone home that night. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand the way his hair was undoubtedly wild, his eyes hard with desire, and his hands still aching with the memory of her squirming body in his lap.

After four years of near silence, this girl had unraveled him. After all those days on patrol with her, nothing to do except look at her when she wouldn't notice, Joel Miller had been undone.

The next day, waking up early with the stiffness in his boxers begging to be dealt with, Joel spit on his palm and wrapped it around his cock, releasing a sigh. Fuck's sake, he thought with a groan. Can't hardly get a full night's sleep anymore.

It should have annoyed him; it was certainly an inconvenience. But if it meant that he'd get to spend more time thinking about her body and her lips and her eyes when she asked those incessant questions, then so be it. He'd never sleep another wink and be glad for it.

It didn't take long for his release to come, not when the memories of her whines were so fresh in his mind. To think that he'd had her on his lap, hips squirming in that way that only she knew...it was enough to make him—"A grown fuckin' man," he reminded himself—spill into his hands and draw ragged breaths into his lungs to recover.

With an arm thrown across his face, he latched onto the image of her in the heat of ecstasy, her eyelids fluttering shut and her lips wet from constantly biting them.

For a moment, he tried to rein himself in. Can't be doin' this, he'd thought while getting ready for patrol that morning. Don't wanna take advantage of her, or fuck her up cause of my inability to control my own desires.

In reality, he'd considered, did she really know what she was getting herself into? With little more knowledge than the mechanics of reproduction, it had been evident with the events of the previous night that she knew nothing of what pleasure could be. Did he really want to be responsible for her discovery of such things?

But when he went to the stables an hour later and saw her standing in the snow with an extra twinge in her grin and her eyes sparkling despite the echoes of fatigue in her irises, every doubt dissipated immediately. He pretended not to notice the way her eyes lingered on his back when they saddled up, heading out of Jackson for the day.

Joel Miller was never one to deny a woman in need. Why should he have stopped now?

—

"How'd you sleep?"

When you looked over at him, almost shocked that he'd broken the silence, your eyebrow quirked up. "Fine," you answered.

It wasn't that this patrol had been disappointing, it was just...ever since you'd left Jackson that morning, you'd been waiting for him to look at you like he had the night before, or to even acknowledge you in the way that you could still remember him doing.

Maybe it was because Tommy was nearby at the time, or maybe he'd changed his mind after all. Maybe you'd overstepped, asking a man so much older than you to teach you all of this. Maybe it hadn't happened at all—your dreams were rather convincing these days.

If it hadn't been for those girls, hell-bent on making you feel ostracized, perhaps you wouldn't have landed yourself in this position. You probably wouldn't have had any reason to be curious about what it all meant, and you could have gone on in comfortable silence with him on your patrols.

With a heavy mind, you blew out a breath. If it hadn't been for those girls, though—you never would have known the creases that sank into the corners of his eyes when he grinned at you.

Beside you, having held back to come up shoulder-to-shoulder, Joel huffed. "Bullshit, darlin'," he scoffed, casting a sideways glance in your direction.

You tightened your hands on the reins. "Excuse me?" you said sharply.

His chuckle was a soft rumble in his chest, and you ached to feel it against your back. "I saw those sleepy eyes at the stables," he crooned, the corners of his eyes crinkling just like you remembered. "Looks like someone didn't get a good night's sleep."

"Oh, and I'm just supposed to believe you slept like a damn baby, then?" You couldn't help the incredulity in your tone, but you blushed when you noticed him smirking, his lips twitching as he fought a smile away.

"'Course not," he shook his head almost dismissively. "Couldn't tell my brain to stop conjurin' pictures of you shakin' in my lap." He adjusted the way he was seated on his horse, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was getting hard at the reminder of the memory.

You, in a similar vein, were trying to ignore the unmistakable feel of heat puddling between your legs. Keeping your eyes forward, you asked, "Is that a good thing?"

Joel nodded. "A very good thing, dollface. You were so good for me last night."

Any air that had been in your lungs left in a rush, and you put a hand to your cheek, warm despite the winter's wind. You thought you heard yourself whine at the sound of the pet name.

Thankfully, he didn't say or do anything to show that he'd noticed. Instead, he tugged his horse to a stop. "Let's get down here," he said. "Walk and talk, yeah?"

The thought of walking beside him after all that had happened the night before was enough to make you freeze in your saddle, suddenly unsure of how to get down. "Yeah," you mumbled, if only to fill the silence.

You could hear the crunch of snow under his boots as he came up beside you, thick gloved hands reaching for your waist. "C'mon, darlin'," he'd insisted, "I won't bite."

There was a note of irony in his tone, and you let him pull you from your saddle, landing in the snow in front of him. Your jacket snagged against his, and you stood there for a moment, letting your frosty wisps of breath coil and furl with his. "What do you mean?" you asked, cursing your ever-present confidence when it came to asking him questions. It seemed that you'd never learn to hold your tongue.

"Hmm?" he hummed in response. "What's what mean?" He stepped away from you to grab the reins in his hand and began to walk forward in the snow.

You shook your head and pushed on, stumbling after him. When did the snow get so deep? "You sounded rather..." you trailed off, searching for the word.

"Oh, here it comes," he mused in that serious tone, hardly covering the teasing lilt that rang clear in his eyes. "Bet you're coming up with a big word right about now, huh?"

You couldn't help it when you rolled your eyes and swatted a hand at the back of his arm. "I was going to say you sounded smug," you finished. "About how you won't bite?"

There it was again. That look of slight surprise at your questions. You waited for a few moments, the two of you trudging along in the snow, before he answered quietly. "We're jumpin' ahead of ourselves, but I s'pose it won't hurt." He shrugged. "Some people like it. Biting."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Like it?" You looked down at your hands, covered in thick gloves. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Joel smirked. "It can," he considered, "if the person gettin' bitten wants it like that." He brushed your arm with his. "But some people don't like it at all. Just depends."

You braved a look up at his face and swallowed roughly, feeling your core pulse at the sight of his rosy cheeks. "Does it have to hurt?" You didn't mean to sound so desperate; you were just curious. "I mean, is it like...like a real bite?"

It happened so quickly that you hardly had a moment to process. Joel stopped in his tracks, pulled you near, and dipped his head down to your ear. "Don't have to," he murmured, and you were just starting to quiver at the feel of his voice next to your ear when he was brushing your hair from your neck and grazing his teeth against your skin. "Can feel good, if the person doin' the biting knows how."

You couldn't help the hand that shot out to grab his arm, as if it were the only thing that might hold you up. "I'm assuming you know how," you said thickly, eyes wandering on his weathered face. Funny, you thought at the sight of his grin, he looks quite young like this.

Joel shifted his arm so he could squeeze your hand once with his before letting it go. "Don't boost my ego too high, sweetcheeks," he warned, but you could hear the humor in his voice. "Might never let go if you do."

You knew he was kidding, but the prospect that he was being serious made your stomach flutter and forced you to clench your thighs together, bringing the forefront of your attention back to the frustration that was pooling between your legs. "Joel," you muttered in a whine, not quite realizing you'd said it until he was looking at you with a twinge of concern.

"What's up, doll?" he asked, slowing to a stop. "Somethin' wrong?"

A curly tendril of his graying hair was blown into his face with the winter wind, and you wished you could brush it away with your fingers like he'd done just moments ago. "I..." you inhaled deeply, and shifted your weight. "I'm..."

It took him a moment to understand, and when he did, his eyes sparkled. "Oh, doll," he cooed, reaching forward to tug you closer to him. "Need something', huh?"

You leaned your head forward until your forehead rested against him, breathing in the scene of pine and old leather and that heady musk that was utterly Joel. Nodding into his strong chest, you brought your hand up to his wrist and tugged it down, down, down...there.

Joel's large hand cupped the mound between your legs and you swallowed harshly as it pulsed again, begging for the sweet release he'd given you the night before. "Fuck," he breathed, the vibrations of his voice rolling against your skin. "Shoulda told me you were this bothered, baby," he hummed.

You lifted your head. "I've been trying," you said in a pitiful whine, although this wasn't entirely true, and he knew it. "Why does it...why do I ache so bad?"

His smirk quivered, and his pupils were suddenly huge as he withdrew his hand from where it covered your heat, exposing it to the frigid winter air once more. "I think we've gone far enough, don't you?" he winked. "Think we may as well head back."

The implications of what would happen when you got back to Jackson made your head spin. Nodding feverishly, you let go of the twinge of embarrassment at your eagerness. "Yes, please," you hiccuped.

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. "Good," he murmured.

—

This was the worst possible outcome.

Just when you'd worked up to exactly where you wanted to be with Joel, with his hands on you and his intentions leading you back to his house (and hopefully his couch), Tommy stopped you at the stables.

Well, not you. Not you at all, actually. He stalked up to his older brother and said, Meeting at my place, Joel."

He'd just gotten down from his saddle to help you do the same and was letting his hands linger on your waist when the interruption happened. With his hungry eyes locked on yours, he'd been leaning into your touch and hovering his hands just inches from your heat.

You could have sworn he jumped out of his skin at the sound of Tommy's voice; you just hoped it was because of his infamous hearing loss on his ride side and decidedly not because he'd been caught standing so close to you.

"We just had a meeting last week," he said gruffly, his eyes still searching yours. For what, you weren't sure—but you were quickly growing addicted to finding those rare flecks of gold buried in the espresso brown seas reflected back at you. His hands clenched involuntarily, and given the fact that they were resting around your hips, you got a delicious lick of pleasure that shot through your pelvis at the sensation.

Tommy didn't seem to be in the mood for dawdling. "And now we're having one this week," he insisted. "My place. Maria and the others are waiting."

You lifted your chin to see him close his eyes in annoyance. His mouth opened once; he closed it. When he opened it again, his eyes flashed along with the movement. "Alright, I'll be there in a minute," he said tersely, and you pretended not to notice the way his gloved thumb rubbed a slow circle on your hip. An apology, perhaps.

When he didn't move, you blushed with smug satisfaction. It had never been more clear that he didn't want to move.

"Joel, it's important." Usually, you'd never had an issue with Tommy. Now, of course, the sound of his voice clawed at your every hope for tonight.

With a soft look at your lips, Joel jerked his head to look at his brother. "I said give me a fuckin' minute," he said, his words clipped. "Fuck's sake," he muttered as he turned around. "Just answerin' a goddamn question," he finished, soft enough that you were sure his brother couldn't hear.

Tommy grumbled his fair share of disapproving words, but you couldn't help the grateful bubble that bloomed in your gut when you heard the shuffle of his boots as he left you alone in the stables with Joel.

He waited a moment or two before letting out a soft sigh. You couldn't have known how disappointed he was, but the way he lifted a hand to your cheek was clue enough. "New lesson, dollface," he said.

A pang of regret hit your stomach and you found yourself shaking your head. "Please?" you asked in a quiet voice. "I don't want a new lesson."

Joel grinned and sucked in a sharp breath. "I know, baby, I know." The familiar phrase threw you back to the night before, when he'd had his hands all over you, reassuring you with those exact words. But now, it wasn't a comfort. "But if I'm not around and you need to feel good..." His hand trailed down your cheek, brushed against your chest and returned to its previous spot between your legs. "I want you to practice touchin' yourself, yeah?"

His voice had become a near-painful whisper, just loud enough for you to feel rather than hear his words caress your skin. "This of me all you want, darlin'. God knows I'll be thinkin' of you at this damn...meeting," he practically spat the last word, but it didn't take away from the pressure that was building and causing you to blink rapidly. "Think about me," he repeated, "but I want you to explore this pretty body for me so you can tell me all about it when I get back."

The sound of his voice enveloped you, that heady sensation nearly making your knees give out. With a slow nod, you couldn't see yourself ever disobeying him. Not when he asked such sinful things of you.

"Okay," you whispered. "I'll try."

His mouth was in a hard line, his irritation at Tommy's interruption still prevalent. But it softened for a moment when he slid a gloved thumb over your bottom lip, letting it get pulled from its place before bouncing back. You darted your tongue out, wetting your lip in a desperate attempt to taste his leather on your skin; to taste him.

"Good," he said softly. Something new pulsed at the sound of his praise, but you fought it down. "I'll see you soon, doll."

—

Despite everything you tried when you got home—despite squeezing your eyes shut and picturing that dimple in Joel's cheek when he smirked, or the way his arms felt when wrapped around you—nothing helped. The pressure remained, the ache between your legs was ever-present, and yet...

You couldn't give yourself the release you craved. Not like Joel could.

There was no telling how long you tried, hand shoved down your pants in a sour attempt to replicate the feeling he'd given you. Your fingers were clumsy, untrained, and entirely new to the task, leaving you desperate and unsatisfied. A strangled whine left your throat when your mind flashed with the memory of his face near yours, his lips on your own, and his rough hands rubbing that small bud at your center. It was maddening.

He'd asked you to do this one thing, and you couldn't deliver. Of course, you'd never even realized this was a possibility; you'd only ever heard of men bringing themselves to the plummeting precipice of pleasure. You never considered that you could do the same.

But you didn't want to make yourself feel good. You wanted Joel to do it.

After what felt like hours, stuck in your house alone, Joel nowhere to be found, and with your hopes slipping into despair, you gave up. Your fingers would never be as rough or as thick as his. You didn't know how to explore your body when you couldn't tip yourself over the edge to ecstasy; it was impossible.

Weary and defeated, you went to bed with a groan. Joel still hadn't shown up. Either it was a long meeting, or...you didn't want to entertain the thought that he'd possibly forgotten about you. About your task to be completed.

You actually did drop off into a dreamless sleep, but when you woke to the sound of a knock at your door, you were almost positive the dreams had begun again. Swinging your legs out of bed, you trudged to the door with sleep oozing in every movement. The door opened with a click, and you blinked.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetcheeks," Joel breathed. A distant streetlamp, the only one in Jackson, was the sole source of light that illuminated the edges of his broad body on your porch. He looked near-angelic.

You didn't say anything for a moment, only crossed your arms to keep yourself warm in the face of the wintry outdoors. The relief and anticipation at seeing him here paired with the disappointment and fatigue that it had taken so long warred with each other, creating a dangerous mix as you managed to say, "Are you...hungry? Or something?"

He swallowed, and your head swam with the desire to lay your tongue flat on his neck where his Adam's apple bobbed. "Starving," he groaned, and in one step he was not only in your house but he was all over you, and you were wearing nothing but your thin pajamas.

He'd apparently already taken off his gloves, and when his hand came up to cup your cheek your body registered the chill of his fingers with a shock, despite leaning into his touch all the same. He took a moment to look at you before touching his forehead to yours, pressing his lips to yours gently. You could practically taste the restraint on his mouth, and you wanted nothing more than to beg him for everything.

Something about your face must have given it away when he pulled back because he tapped a finger against your cheek. "You look like you need somethin'." He darted a look down to your legs. "Did you do what I asked?"

You weren't sure what made you lie, but you nodded nonetheless. "Uh-huh."

Even in the dark, he was so close to you that you could see his eyebrow lift in question. You didn't know how he knew, but why wouldn't he? This was Joel. "You didn't come," he concluded, and you ducked your head. "Why not, dollface? I thought I told you to."

The implication that his request was, in fact, a command, didn't slip your mind. Your cheeks burned when you forced yourself to look at him. "I couldn't. I don't know how."

"Sure you do," he whispered. "You did real good last night for me, remember?" His lips ghosted your jaw.

You shook your head. "I don't know how. I've never...made myself come."

When Joel looked at you, you could have sworn his lips twitched, betraying the desire in his movements. "I'm sorry, babydoll," he cooed, bringing his other hand to your cheek. He slotted his lips over yours once more, and it was all you could do not to sink to the floor right there. "We'll have to fix that, won't we?"

You nodded. "Show me? Please?"

Without another word he bent to brush his lips across your hairline—you could have sworn you felt him inhale with his nose in your hair—and murmured, "In the morning, yeah?"

You pulled away to complain but he only gave you a soft smile. It was then that you could see the exhaustion in his face, eyes downturned despite those creases winking at you in the darkness. "But—"

"Told Tommy you need a day off," he clarified. "'Cause you're...sore..." he splayed his hand on your back and tugged you near, voice low. "Ya know, from all that horseback ridin'."

An anticipatory chuckle bubbled from your chest. "No way he bought that," you said breathlessly as he nipped your jawline with his teeth (you were almost sure it was supposed to be a kiss). "I've been patrolling on horseback for years."

Joel shrugged and looked down at you with a smirk. "Who knows? Maybe I should have told him you were waiting for me to come home and make you fall apart on my fingers," he said dismissively, but his tone did nothing to stop your stomach from flipping.

"Oh," you said dumbly, cursing yourself inwardly for how easily you were rendered speechless in his presence. "He'll...he'll really let us take the day off?" Your mind swam with the possibilities of what you could do with an entire day.

He shook his head. "Not us, darlin'. Just you." Tracing the line of your jaw, his lips twisted into a dry smirk. "I'll have to go tomorrow. But," he whispered, squeezing a hand on your hip and cocking an eyebrow at the way your legs wobbled," I'd gladly go every morning all by myself if it meant you were in your bed all day, daydreamin' about me."

It was a heavier confession that you'd expected out of him, and you let out a breathy sigh. "In the morning then," you asked. You swallowed roughly in an attempt to push down the lump of pure need that had risen in your chest, but to no avail.

Joel nodded firmly. "Trust me," he hummed, "in the morning."

So you'd led him to your bed with no more discussion. It hadn't occurred to you that he might not stay the night; he'd come to your place after the meeting like he'd said, and it was the middle of the night. Why wouldn't he have stayed the night?

Despite everything in you fighting to stay awake, the second you returned to your mattress and pulled the covers up, your eyelids drooped. Joel stood at the end of the bed and shed his jacket slowly. "Sleep, doll," he said, his voice echoing in the otherwise silent room as he bent to kick off his boots. "I'll be here when you wake up."

—

Was he getting too close? Was he pushing the boundaries too far, too soon? Probably.

Selfishly, Joel didn't much care.

—

Sure enough—when morning came, when the dull winter sunlight crept into your house and draped the floor in soft yellow, you felt the dip of your mattress beside you and betrayed Joel's presence. He'd stayed. Like he said.

Quite the dedicated teacher, you thought to yourself with a satisfied warmth. You'd felt him climb into bed last night, but despite your every wish for him to press himself to your back and hold you tightly the whole night, he'd kept at least a foot of space between your bodies. Always close enough to touch, but never giving in.

You rolled over and swiped a hand over your face, a few stray strands falling into your eyes. The breath left your chest when you saw him there, eyes open and waiting for you. "Hi," you said, your voice rough with sleep. Again with the monosyllabic responses, you scolded yourself.

Joel hummed, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through the mattress and into your body. "Looked so sweet like that, darlin'," he mused, his rough hands tucked under his head. He reached one of them toward you and tapped your bottom lip, plump with sheep, with two of his fingertips. "Didn't wanna wake you up."

"You didn't." You weren't sure what made you do it, but you moved closer, shifting your entire body until your nose almost brushed his. Your eyes flitted up to look at the way his graying hair laid messily around the crown of his head, haircuts neglected for who knew how long. "Can we...I want to start now," you mumbled.

His jaw ticked, and he looked like he was swallowing down a grin. "Look at you," he cooed, "so eager. Aren't you hungry, doll?"

You bit your lip and you could have sworn you saw his eyes widen. "Starving," you fumbled over the word, imitating his response to you the night before on your porch.

Joel let go of a chuckle and his eyes danced with mirth. "Always turnin' my words back on me, aren't ya?" When you nodded sheepishly, he slid his hand around to cup the back of your head and he pulled you in, connecting his lips with yours. "Okay, pretty girl," he said. "We'll start. Since you asked so nicely."

His lips were chapped from the cold weather but they were still soft as he pressed them to yours, moving lazily as the two of you blinked away the last clutches of sleep. "Always so soft, these lips," he murmured, and then his hand was moving from your neck to your chest. "Everyone's different, yeah? There's these spots on everyone's body," he said, absentmindedly drawing swirls along the expanse of your chest, making you shiver. "Let's call them...pleasure points."

"Pleasure points," you repeated breathlessly, your stomach fluttering as he rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Is that—"

He grinned with a nod. "Think I just found one of 'em, doll." He rolled you onto your back and bent his head down, his breath fanning over your chest and warming you through your thin pajama shirt. "This is how we get you all ready for me, when the time comes."

You nodded quietly and let out a shaky sigh as his hands wandered. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you practically preened at the feeling of his lips against your skin while his hands squeezed and caressed your breasts, moving over your stomach. "Joel—"

He paused, hand hovering over the hem of your shirt. "What, babygirl?"

You couldn't help the whine that fought its way out of your throat. "Please," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut at the pressure that writhed in your core.

Joel's fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, his mouth widening in a grin at the way that your stomach rose and fell in spattered pants. "Come on, darlin'," he crooned, "open those pretty eyes for me. Gotta see you, doll."

It was all you could do not to take his hand in your own and shove it to your core where you needed him desperately, but you did as he asked.

"That's it, baby," he breathed, good girl."

You'd become familiar with the way your stomach clenched at his use of pet names, but this was new. You had done well for him. You wanted to stay that way. "Will you touch me please? I need—"

"So eager," he murmured, leaning in with his lips to your earlobe. "Lemme take my time with you, dollface." And then his lips were wrapping to the soft part of your ear, his teeth grazing at your skin. Paired with this sensation and the heady feeling of his hand on your waistband, fumbling to push his hand beneath it, you arched your back and released a series of high-pitched whines.

"JoelJoelJoelpleasepleaseplease," you were overcome with the pure, unbridled need that was speeding through your body like a tidal wave on a summer day.

"Alright, darlin', alright," he acquiesced, pushing his hand into your waistband and pulling it down over your hips. You didn't even have the mind to be shy about being laid bare to him this way; you just needed him to touch you.

Before you could beg him again, he had his fingertip on your core, sliding it gently through your slick heat. "Oh, baby," he groaned, rutting his hips against your side. His bulge pressed into your hip and you flexed your fingers to reach for it. "M'never gettin' used to how wet you are for me," his voice shook.

One finger became two, and then his fingertips were rubbing sweet circles to your sensitive bud, drawing near pornographic moans to tumble past your lips. "Can I touch you, please?" you begged, your hand fisting your bedsheets. "Wanna touch you, Joel, please."

He hummed against your ear as he swiped another finger against your bud and lifted your hand to his lips. "Sure thing, doll," he said, and placed it in his hair. Your fingers instinctually carded through the coarse strands, and you blushed when his eyes fluttered closed. "Hold on tight if you need to, pretty girl," he grinned, and lemme know if it's too much."

You were going to ask if what was too much, but then he dipped his finger further down your core, notching it at the small opening. You hadn't even thought this far ahead, that things would eventually lead here. Something pulsed and you whined, tugging his hair in your hand.

"Look at you, so ready for me," he murmured against your neck. His tongue swept out to lick a small stripe along the sensitive skin there and when you let out a stuttering breath he chuckled. "You are ready for me, aren't ya, pretty girl?"

You couldn't nod fast enough. "Please," you choked out, and then he was pressing his finger inside you.

It was a small intrusion, but overwhelming all the same. In all your years, you'd never had the thought that it could feel this good to have him close to you like this. He was only as far as the first knuckle, but with the way that his bulge was nudging your hips, he wanted much more. "Good girl," he breathed, "such a good girl, openin' your legs like this."

"Wanna touch you," you whimpered again, vision blurring with the desperation that coursed through your veins. "Please, Joel, let me touch you."

He kissed you, but you could hardly focus enough to move your lips against his. "Already touchin' me," he said. "You want more?"

"Yes," you nodded feverishly, releasing your hand from his hair. "I wanna..." you looked down at his bulge and licked your lips.

Joel's eyes were wide as he whispered, "For fuck's sake, darlin', when you're cryin' about it..." he swiped a thumb across your cheeks, collecting a teardrop you hadn't even known was there. "How could I say no?"

Thankyouthankyouthankyou were the only words in your mind, a jumbled mess as you reached for him. Your finger traced his length and before you knew it, you were reaching inside his boxers to release it from its constraints. "Holy fuck," you whined, bucking your hips into his hand as you saw just how big he was, long and thick and heavy in your hand. "Need it," you found yourself whispering. "Need you."

It was all you could do before he pushed his finger further, then out, and then in, just enough to throw you closer to that addicting edge of ecstasy. Once again, you found yourself enveloped in the thick pressure of pure desire in his arms.

He pressed the pad of his thumb to your bud and swirled circles in your heat, his lips connecting to your ear once more. "Alright, baby. Alright, baby," he practically chanted in a low tone, nibbling on your lobe just hard enough to pinch the skin. "C'mon now, squeeze my finger like that, that's it," he groaned, drawing out the final two syllables, "good girl."

With his hand in the crux of your legs and his mouth connected to your ear, whispering the filthiest things you'd ever heard in your sheltered life, you threw your head back into the pillow and curled your legs toward him, your hand squeezing his cock tightly as you continued your strokes.

The sounds that erupted from your throat as you burst in a state of pure pleasure were the most pitiful (and yet electrifying) noises you'd ever heard yourself make, and you couldn't help but continue rolling your hips into his hands, chasing the feeling until it became more intense and your legs began to twitch again. "Joel," you mewled, voice breaking, "I need you."

A teasing chuckle sounded, and your cheeks warmed as he removed his hand from your slick. "So much you don't know, dollface," he crooned, tracing his index down the line of your nose. He pushed another, shining with your release, into your mouth. The sweetness nearly made you fall apart again. "Don't know if you're ready for that."

Your body was on fire, nearly throbbing with the insatiable need to be wrapped in his arms, with his hands everywhere, his lips anywhere. Your hand had been moving on his shaft, but his hips stuttered with your next words. "I am," you insisted, "I need you, please. I wanna feel you everywhere."

Joel's pupils went wide and he shuddered out a breath, mumbling a string of curses with his eyes shut. He thrusted his hips into your hand and then your skin was sticky and warm with his own release, some of it landing on your stomach where you lay beside him.

"Shit," he groaned with a rueful smirk. "Maybe I'm not ready for that yet." His breath fanned deliciously over your skin as he continued. "Can't hardly last long enough with the thought of stretching you out like that, baby."

You grinned, and you didn't mind the fact that he could definitely see the flush in your cheeks. "No?"

He shook his head. "Fuck no. I don't wanna think about how quickly I'll come if I were to be inside that pretty pussy yet," he said with a short and gentle tap to your mound. When your hips arched off the mattress and you whined at the sensitivity, he cooed apologetically.

"Isn't that a good thing?" you frowned slightly. "I thought I was making you feel good."

"Makin' me feel too good," he mused, bringing his hand up to hold your face toward him once more. He winked. "Can't have me comin' before you do, sweet girl. Not very gentlemanly of me."

You couldn't help the pang of doubt that clouded your face, and it must have been obvious, because then he was cupping the back of your head and pulling you to his chest. Humming into your neck, he smirked. "Besides, I want to be able to take my sweet time with you. To see you squirmin' beneath me like you do, baby? S'enough to make the pope leave the goddamn church."

tysm for reading, i can't believe you guys convinced me to write MORE filth for these two. u made it to the end, lemme know what you thought!

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thatfandomslut · 4 months

Text

Princess

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: homophobia, physical bullying that results in injury, fluffy ending

Frankly this isn't my favorite fic I've written but I have tried my very best.

Request:

HEYYY omggg can i request ANYTHING with regina pls i dont care what it is:3 thank you!!

Synopsis:

After someone hurts the reader, Regina will make sure everyone knows not to hurt her princess.

Mean Girls (2024) requests are open.

Regina George was the Queen Bee at North Shore High. She was confident, brilliant, and ambitious. Regina could bring the entire school to their knees if she wanted. Only one person rivaled Regina George in popularity, and that was the only person Regina had a soft spot for. (Y/n) (L/n) was proclaimed Regina's princess by none other than Regina herself. On her own, (Y/n) didn't feel special, but Regina ensured she knew she was. While Regina lived for the popularity, (Y/n) could care less, but it was nice not to get bullied by the jock branch of the school's social structure.

While Gretchen Wieners was Regina's right-hand woman, as she deemed herself to be, (Y/n) could always be found on Regina's side. Regina was someone who was motivated by words of affirmation and physical touch. So, while she was touching (Y/n) in some way, whether their knees were touching or her hand was placed delicately on (Y/n)'s thigh, she reveled in the compliments she received from her girlfriend. Nothing boosted Regina's ego more than the love of her life, her princess, flirting with her shamelessly at the lunch table, not caring if Gretchen, Cady, or Karen heard.

However, today (Y/n) wasn't at the lunch table, in her usual spot. She tended to have everything ready for Regina by the time she reached the cafeteria. This ensured a few minutes alone as the other Plastics were forced to wait in line while (Y/n) and Regina talked about whatever they wanted without the listening ears of the other girls. Regina's brows furrowed as she looked around and didn't see the girl still. "Maybe she's still in class," Gretchen offered, earning a glare from Regina who sent a message to (Y/n), wondering where she was. Perhaps Gretchen was right though. As time passed, Regina grew impatient and agitated over (Y/n)'s absence.

After all, Regina knew that (Y/n) was present that day. They had walked to their homeroom class and their shared first period together. Tapping her fingers on the table, she was becoming more restless. "I'm going to go find her," Regina stated, standing up to leave. The girls went to follow her, but Regina stopped them. She wanted to go alone, and she didn't need Gretchen's constant pestering during their search. Quite frankly, she was also slightly annoyed over the fact that (Y/n) hadn't answered her text message.

As she passed one of the stairwells, Regina heard sniffling causing her to take a step back to see if it was who she thought it was. "Princess," her voice echoed the area, and (Y/n) looked up. Regina's previous annoyance was now abandoned as she saw the puffy lip and bruising eye adorning her girlfriend's face. Making her way over, Regina took (Y/n)'s chin into her feeling delicately as she wiped away some of the driving blood under her busted lip. "Who did this?" Her voice sounded leveled and cold. (Y/n) wiped a tear from her good eye, nervous to touch her other one since it was still stinging. Noticing this, Regina brushed a gentle finger to help rid the girl of her tears.

(Y/n) was led to the bathroom as Regina cleaned her face up. Only (Y/n) was allowed to be exposed to how gentle she could be. "You still haven't answered me, princess," Regina whispered, examining her face, and searching to make sure there was nothing she missed. "You felt like they had the right to hurt you? I need to know so I can burn them to the ground." For someone who was threatening (Y/n)'s bully, she only sounded calm and caring towards the girl in front of her. (Y/n) knew deep down that she also wasn't going to keep it from Regina. She just didn't want to be a snitch or make things worse. But maybe things were already worse at this point. After all, Regina had the sweetest tone in her voice but the most dangerous fire (Y/n) had ever seen in her eyes.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly wincing slightly when she licked her lip. She had forgotten how swollen and sore it was. "Marianne Hayes," she told Regina quietly, feeling Regina's fingers intertwine with (Y/n)'s. Regina's brow rose, wanting to hear everything that had happened. "She said I was sinning, being with a girl as she walked by me in the hall. So, I told her to say it to my face. That's when she turned and punched me. She got another punch in before her friend pulled her off. She reminded them that I was your girlfriend. Marianne made sure to point out that I was defenseless without you before she left, too. Which I'm not! The punch just caught me off guard and… I don't know. She always says things like that to me." (Y/n) expressed, sighing softly as the bell rang. They were supposed to be going to class, but neither of them moved.

(Y/n)'s words were also a revelation to Regina. Nodding slowly, she listened intently. "What do you mean she always says things like that to you? Why didn't you tell me she was talking shit to you?" Regina questioned. The quirk in her brow never left her face as she stared at her girlfriend with care and worry.

"I guess I never felt like it was important to bring up." (Y/n) muttered, looking away. A clear indication she was lying. There was more, and Regina squeezed her hands comfortingly. (Y/n) could be honest with her. She'd always listen to anything and everything that she had to say. "Okay, I suppose I felt like… If I didn't handle this, she'd be right, That I was just your little dog who couldn't defend myself. I wanted to prove that, yes, I'm your girlfriend, and yes, I'm proud, but… I can also defend myself. When I finally had the opportunity, she punched me."

Regina kissed her forehead in understanding. "You are not my dog. You are so much more than whatever the fuck Marianne, of all people, thinks of you. I will make sure she burns to the ground. You are my girlfriend, princess, and I know that you think you need to do things on your own, but I'm here for you." Regina cupped (Y/n)'s cheek gently. For anyone else in the school, seeing Regina this caring and soft was strange. But for (Y/n), this was her girlfriend. She was always this soft with her. "Now, come on. We're going to my house and we are going to watch a dumb romcom." (Y/n) smiled at this, allowing Regina to lead her out of the school, thankful to spend the rest of the day cuddled up to the blonde with She's All That playing on her wide-screen TV.

#regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls x reader #mean girls

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luveline · 22 hours

Note

there’s this scene in the office where pam falls asleep on jim during a conference at work, he doesn’t move her at all and even stays until after the meeting is over just to let her sleep!!! do u think u could write something similar for our annoyingly sweet coworker! james?? love u

love u <3 —James may not like you, but he’s a good pillow. fem, 1k

“Today we’re gonna talk about workplace satisfaction.”

James crosses his arms over his chest. The yawn he suppresses threatens to make his jaw crack, his eyes heavy not a minute into the presentation.

“I know all about that,” Sirius says under his breath.

Remus needles him in the arm with his elbow. It might’ve been the best dumb luck in the world to get to work with his best friends, but not even their joking can make this meeting less mind-numbing. He covers his mouth with his hand and settles in.

“We sent around a survey this last week and we’ve had everyone’s responses. The results are anonymous, but we do want to touch on where we, as a company, are going wrong. Our first category was day to day working.”

You yawn. James turns his head to watch you, and with the lights dimmed, he’s not sure you notice. You cover your mouth with both hands, your eyes failing to reopen for a few long, admittedly humorous seconds. He likes how your lashes look stuck together, and the way you rub your nose afterward. It’s cute.

What’s not cute is your shaking knees. You press them together, but you’re sitting awkwardly, and they tremble at the strange position. James wonders what it is you’re upto that’s making you so tired lately. You seem down; he stapled his fingertip earlier in a crazy mishap of which he was at no fault and you didn’t even laugh. You took his hand and pulled out the staple.

You’ve been acting super weird.

“So about half of you expressed that you feel like you aren’t allowed the breaks that you need. While it’s encouraged you all take a ten minute break from your screens every other hour, you feel penalised when you do, and we want to change that. Do any of you guys have anything to say? This is the time to speak your thoughts.”

Remus raises his hand. James loves him more than anyone in the world. “Whenever I try to take a break around lunchtime, you ask me if I can wait until lunch. I don’t think needing breaks from the screen should wait, or detract from my legal break time.”

“What we’re trying to do is encourage you guys to make the most of your working time without hurting yourselves.”

A great non answer. You make a soft sound and James turns with a smile, expecting to find you smothering a laugh, and instead seeing a great eyeful of your neck. Your head has fallen back, your back slouching under the weight of yourself as your leg begins to drift toward his.

Poor girl, he thinks.

“What about the kitchen tap?” someone asks.

Your boss sighs. “What about it?”

James leans down to be your height. He can imagine the neck ache, the stiffness, and so when he brings his arm up to touch the shoulder closest to his, it’s with sympathy, if not fondness.

You make another soft sound like a snuffle and rest your face on his shoulder.

James looks away. Looks back, tracing the soft roundness of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips, pouting ever so slightly in your dozing. He’s thought often that you were awarded a face too sweet for who you are. What evil demon are you, to treat him like he’s stupid and to smile at him in your way? Sometimes he gets so mad at you for it that he thinks about grabbing you, and yanking your face to his, and then he feels so guilty for wanting to grab you at all that he leaves your mug where it is in the cupboard. It’s not nice to want to kiss you with any sort of force.

It’s not nice wanting to kiss you at all, because it isn’t a joke, he really doesn’t like you sometimes.

But what’s not to like about you now?

Lately he feels this weird bridge forming between you, like you could be civil, or better. You rub your nose into his shoulder and he holds his breath, worried his moving chest will jolt you. Something must be really getting to you if you’re sleeping at work. He should ask if you’re alright, when you’re awake.

He doesn’t think he can.

“Alright, guys. Let’s talk about customer service.”

You’re demure. James thinks it and bites his own tongue, hard and accidental, flinching at the sudden pain. You mumble against him and he quickly stills, his heart pounding. Fuck, he hates this. Why does he feel like this? He didn’t mean to jostle you.

Your hand curls around his arm like you’re telling him to stay still.

He should take a photo of you for blackmail purposes. If not blackmail, mild humiliation. He can email it to everyone before you wake up, zoom in on your nose pressed rough to his arms, your deep exhales warm on his shirt.

James rubs your elbow for reasons he can’t understand.

The meeting is torturously long, inanely boring. You rouse when your coworkers clap politely at the end of the presentation, James’ hand now returned to his leg. He looks resolutely at the front of the room, your gaze a heat on his cheek, before you look down and rub your eyes.

“Sorry, James,” you murmur.

“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.”

That’s what’s best, right? You have these insane moments of togetherness and never, ever talk about them.

“Did I miss much?” you ask.

Pillow and minute keeper? James doesn’t think so. “Should’ve paid attention.”

“Did he talk about the tap in the kitchen?”

“If you were meant to know, you’d know, hm?” You yawn and blink to yourself all soft with sleep, and James debates giving in for longer than he’d care to admit. “He did talk about the tap,” he says.

“Is he fixing it?” you ask.

“Couldn’t hear him over your snoring, sorry.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Checkerboard

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

AN: A more reformed Soldier Boy (AU post-season 3) has to come to terms with his strength.

Word Count: 1,000 Warnings: 18+ only for nudity. Also language and fluff.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks.

You’re still half-asleep, because Ben had been absently stroking a thumb across your back. He sits up against the headboard of the bed you so often share, already drinking a cup of coffee. He looks damn-near domestic…

Until he actually looked down at the bruises peeking out at him from beneath the sheets. He sets down his mug and pushes the sheets down.

He then stares at the marks that litter your back, waist, hips, and ass. You shoot him an annoyed look at being bared so early in the morning.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

He manhandles you just firmly enough to turn you over so he can see your face—out from where it had been buried in your pillow. Despite yourself, you greet his annoyingly handsome face. It's covered with neatly trimmed stubble, and with the back of your hand you touch his cheek in affection. He pushes it away.

“You got something to tell me?” he says, more of a demand than a question. “Answer me. What the fuck happened here?”

He gestures at a prominent dark-bluish mark on the inside of your thigh. You sigh and give him a patient look (and that is an effort in itself).

“Nothing,” you reply. A cheeky smile starts to play at your lips, but Ben’s brows furrow in irritation. He knows you’re messing with him, and he doesn’t appreciate it.

“You work at a damn desk. Unless you’re getting nailed by the mail guy—”

“Get fucking serious, Ben.” You dismiss that with a roll of your eyes. He tilts his head at you. His mouth works, and his gaze becomes suspicious. But you notice an edge of worry behind his eyes.

Has someone hurt you? Threatened you?

It hasn’t been the first time the latter had happened. Even though Soldier Boy was officially pardoned and now works as a contracted ally with Supe Affairs, he still has plenty of hated enemies. It doesn’t help that you also work in the thick of it—running surveillance for the team.

So you decide to put him out of his misery.

“You really don’t remember?” you ask wryly.

At Ben’s raised brow, your lips quirk at the corner.

“You don’t remember two days ago? When you met me at my office for lunch, which consisted of you rudely sweeping all my hard work to the floor and ultimately breaking my new desk?”

Realization lights up Ben’s face, and his mouth edges into a smirk.

“We were breaking it in,” he corrects you.

Good times, he thinks, before another, less fun realization hits him: his hands are responsible for the patchwork quilt of bruises that litter your skin.

And he remembers, yet again, that he has the very real capacity to hurt you.

You notice how he takes pains to be gentle, slowly brushing the back of his hand across your thigh.

“It’s not the first time,” you remind him.

“It could be the last,” he reminds you. Your face doesn’t change.

You won’t take compound V. Not for him. Not for anyone.

But with shit like this, he wonders why you stay with him.

“It’s good for you to remember your own strength,” you say, only half-teasing. He turns away from you.

Ben grumbles, “You wanna gamble with your fucking life, that’s up to you.”

You shake your head.

“Don’t do that.” You lean on his shoulder from behind and caress his back—smooth of any scars. You can’t help but prod at him again. “Real men don’t sulk.”

He shoots you a look over his shoulder. You giggle at his green-eyed annoyance.

The truth is, you make it difficult for him not to care. Not to be a softer man.

He fucking hates soft.

But…just for you, he could do it. Just a little.

He closes his hand over yours, which rests on his chest.

“Sorry,” he says. His voice is deep and holds the weight of his sincerity. That one word also encompasses how much progress his relationship with you has made.

Instead of answering, you kiss his shoulder, the back of his neck. He turns around and strokes your cheek, knowing from your eyes that you don’t hold anything against him.

“You don’t have to treat me like a porcelain doll, but I don’t need to look like a checkerboard either,” you tease.

Ben rolls his eyes and slides his arms under you, pulling your naked body onto his bare chest and making you squeal. You meet his eyes as his hand soothes down your back.

“How about this,” he says. “Come up with a safe word.”

You laugh. “We already have one.”

“That’s for other shit,” Ben says, grinning. “Let’s have one just for this. Whenever you wanna remind me to tone it down.”

His hands are careful when they grasp a non-aching portion of your hips. You look down on him fondly, and you consider his suggestion.

“Hmm…pineapples,” you decide. It’s the first obnoxious thing that comes to mind.

“No,” he says. “Veto.”

“What? You can’t veto. It’s my safe word.”

“I’m not gonna be balls deep inside you hearing pineapples in my ear.”

You shake your head at your boyfriend and frame his face with your hands, squeezing his head in exasperation.

“Fine. How about…checkers,” you suggest. A teasing smile comes to your face, even if it pulls his lips into a frown. “So you remember we had this conversation.”

You can tell he doesn’t entirely like it, but he nods in agreement.

“Good. Now, care to join me for a bath?” you ask. Ben is reluctant; he knows you’re going to pour in a shit ton of frilly-smelling soap and bath salts that feel uncomfortable to sit on. But he’s open to the bath time shenanigans that usually ensue.

“I am still a bit sore,” you say, giving him an imploring look. He levels you with a knowing frown. Using his guilt against him is a dirty tactic, and you always employ it well to your advantage.

“Fine. But we’re using regular fucking soap,” he says. You smile and press a lingering kiss to his lips.

But you both know that the second his back is turned, you’re going to dump in your lavender-scented bath bubbles anyway.

AN: I found this basically sketched out in my files and decided to clean it up and put it out there! Let me know what you think. I know it's a much softer Soldier Boy than we're used to seeing. ;)

Read the Prequel:

If you liked this, check out the prequel series to this one-shot:

Series Masterlist: Break Me Down

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#soldier boy #the boys season 3 #the boys tv #the boys #the boys amazon #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #zepskies #zepskies writes #reformed!soldier boy #the boys au #fluff

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cat3ch1sm · 8 months

Note

hii! could i request hcs about illumi's fiancé meeting the zoldycks? something along the lines of her being expected to be the next lady of the house and getting used to the mansion's lifestyle (having butlers, being secluded on a mountain, having the entire family living together)? it would also be nice to see her getting along with the little siblings (killua, kalluto, and alluka)

sorry if i left out any necessary details in this request :(

~✰♡✰♡✰~ hellooo! thanks for ur request :)) haven’t written for hxh in a little while so im happy to write this for you and our favorite bug-eyed assassin :3 if you’re ever unsure about what info to put in a request, just visit the pinned post! ily 💚

fem!reader

𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜é 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐲𝐜𝐤𝐬

illumi isn’t close with his family in the same sense that normal people are close with their families, but nonetheless he feels the need to inform them of major developments in his life. through a letter he tells his family of his engagement, and says that he is going to bring you to his home to see them all.

silva is indifferent, and zeno couldn’t care less, but kikyo is ecstatic that her illumi is finally going to marry someone- and that it isn’t that awful clown hisoka. she’d been seriously concerned for a second there. but she rounds up all the members of her family to be present on the day of your arrival (using excessive force because nobody really wanted to come besides alluka, who was only allowed to meet you because killua threatened to not show up unless alluka was permitted as well).

when you and illumi first arrive after the lengthy trip up the mountain, you are greeted by butlers gotoh and canary, whose presence startles you. you were aware of illumi’s great wealth and status, but it was certainly different from how you’d grown up. just getting inside the actual home is a process- illumi’s strength slightly freaking you out when he pushes open four of the doors to the entrance of the mansion without breaking a sweat and then encountering Mike, the Zoldycks’ monstrous dog. illumi does notice your apprehension, though, and plainly assures you that the dog won’t harm anybody it isn’t supposed to. you’re still visibly nervous, though, so illumi has you come closer to him and hold on to his arm. regardless, you realize it may be tougher to settle in than you thought.

at last, though, illumi brings you to his family. nobody reacts much outwardly to your presence, but you notice a white-haired boy with catlike eyes observing you closely, his expression a mixture of suspicion and confusion. standing beside the boy are two other black haired children- one with short black hair standing somberly with his hands folded in front of him, and the other an eager blue-eyed girl whose gaze sparkles as she looks at you. the white haired boy stands right behind the blue-eyed child. the tall, blonde man with a large frame illumi tells you is Silva, his father, and the slightly shorter man with white hair beside him is illumi’s grandfather, zeno.

without warning, you feel thin arms thrown around you in an embrace, and you almost jump out of your skin. but when you are released, you see the woman that can only be your fiancés mother, the only member of the family illumi had warned told you about prior to the visit. kikyo wears a large dress with an ostentatious petticoat and hat, and most notably a visor over where her eyes would be with one red glowing dot. her appearance is unsettling, and you find it a little difficult to force a smile when she greets you. illumi watches you from the side of his eye, his face unreadable.

just as kikyo is pulling away, something gleaming and silver and large is thrown right at your head, whizzing right by kikyo’s hat and slicing off a single hair from the feather on her hat. you don’t hesitate to lift your hand to your face and catch the sword immediately, the blade slicing your hand- but you don’t flinch as the blood seeps onto the blade and down your arm. you tilt your head to the side to see your assailant is silva, his arm still poised in throwing position. his expression grows less stony once he sees you’ve caught his weapon.

there’s a moment of icy silence, you lowering the weapon to your side, and silva watches you even more intently before uttering a flat “welcome to the family.” with that, he and his father turn and disappear elsewhere inside the mansion. kikyo, though, takes this as her cue to immediately grab you so you two can walk by yourselves throughout the mansion. illumi doesn’t look super pleased to see his mother take you, but he knows better than to try and stop her.

you two are navigating the long, hollow corridors of the zoldyck home. you pass many unsettling family pictures and paintings as well as various weapons like swords and arrows on the walls, and several human sculptures that seem a little too realistic. you’re also sure that you pass at least two torture chambers. it’s an eerie atmosphere, which was what you’d expected, but it doesn’t help your nerves.

kikyo either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about your apprehension, and instead starts talking about how much she’s wanted a daughter and how thrilled she is to finally have a “daughter” to take in. but then she grows eerily serious. she talks about how you’ll be expected to be the next lady of the house and, since you’re becoming a zoldyck, how you’ll have to follow the same codes they do as a family and exhibit the same values- which makes you antsy. the woman clearly seems a bit unhinged. you’re relieved when the walk ends and you’re returned to your fiancé, who gestures for you to take his arm again. illumi’s mother’s mood changes drastically yet again and she storms off, shrieking to her husband that it’s rude for him to walk off after hardly having said anything.

now you and illumi are left with the four other children- the white-haired boy, the girl with long hair, the boy with short hair and purple-pink eyes, and a homely fat boy behind the three younger ones. he holds a small console in front of his face and doesn’t even seem to acknowledge your presence. illumi introduces them to you.

“y/n, i’d like you to meet my siblings,” illumi states in his usual manner, walking slowly towards them. gesturing to the white-haired boy, he says, “this is my brother, killua. i call him kil.” he looks down at his brother with an eerie smile and black eyes like pits, but killua keeps his stony gaze straight ahead. his hand rests on the shoulder of the girl in front of him.

“this is my youngest brother, kalluto,” illumi continues, placing a large hand on top of the boy’s head. his hands remain folded in front of him, and he gives you a polite nod. looking toward the fat boy behind kalluto, his expression slightly curling into one of disdain, illumi tells you, “and this is the second oldest, milluki.” milluki doesn’t acknowledge you at all, which seems to visibly irritate illumi, but he doesn’t reprimand the boy.

you’re confused when illumi doesn’t introduce the girl, and you glance up at him in confusion. “illumi, what about her?” you look down at the girl in front of killua, who looks surprised for a second, and so does killua behind her. “you forgot to tell me her name. she’s a beautiful little girl.” you manage a small smile, leaning down slightly to stroke the girl’s hair. her blue eyes sparkle with joy, and killua looks up at you as well, looking a little confused but also very relieved. “your mother said she had no daughters.”

illumi’s eyes lower ever so slightly, giving him a dismissive look. “she doesn’t,” he answers flatly, and his tone makes you feel like that’s the end of the discussion. you’re definitely lost- but you suppose it’s something illumi will have to fill you in on later. you glance sideways at illumi, hand still resting in the girl’s hair. she definitely doesn’t seem to mind you, and killua appears to have warmed up to you as well. milluki’s vanished elsewhere and kalluto watches the whole exchange from the corner of his eye.

suddenly you all hear kikyo call for illumi, who immediately stands up upon hearing his name. “you will remain here until i return.” he tells you, his tone no-nonsense, and heels clicking he makes his way down the dark hallway, leaving you alone with the kids.

the second illumi is out of earshot, the girl brightens up. “hi!” she chirps, bouncing on her feet excitedly. “my name is alluka!”

you’re slightly startled, but you smile at the girl anyway and tell her hi, still wondering why illumi seems so detached from this girl in particular.

killua seems to read your mind. “i know what you’re thinking,” he tells you, not unkindly. “listen, my family doesn’t like alluka much- and they refer to her with male pronouns. just go along with it in front of them. it’s safer for you.” he pauses, then looks down. “but thanks for being nice to her.”

you frown and nod, deciding not to ask any more questions about it. kalluto still hasn’t said anything, but somehow you don’t feel like this boy will be anything to worry about.

with alluka and killua having warmed up to you, you get into a conversation, and kalluto eventually offers a few words after awhile- although never acknowledging alluka directly. most of it is basically killua wondering how the hell you managed to get engaged to someone like illumi.

“No way he didn’t force you to go out with him.”

“What the hell do you even see in that guy? He’s batshit crazy- and he’s definitely not a model.”

“How’d he propose? Did he try to kill you and you survived?”

“‘Man, you really gotta be messed up for Illumi to like you.”

“What even made him wanna get married to you? What even made you wanna get married to him?”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“And you said yes? You’re crazy!”

that’s all i got :3 hope u enjoyed <33

#anime #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #chrollo x reader #hunter x hunter #hisoka x reader #illumi x reader #illumi zolydck x reader smut #reader x illumi zoldyck #reader x illumi #illumi zoldyck x you #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi zoldyck headcanons #hunter x hunter illumi #illumi hxh #hxh imagines

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reikaryu · 6 months

Text

20:41 with mingyu

pairing : kim mingyu x gen!reader

summary : it’s almost nine in the night and your boyfriend misses you.

genre : timestamp, fluff, idol!au, established relationship

warning(s) : nothing other than adorable mingyu <3

it’s been a week since you saw your boyfriend face to face. he’s been practising diligently with his group mates for the upcoming comeback, while you were stuck in your studio producing songs for a number of artists.

considering the amount of songs you had to create a baseline for, you haven’t had the time to even think about what mingyu was up to. much less miss his comforting presence and clinginess. but it was not the same for him.

mingyu, despite being entirely focused on improving his dance moves, managed to slip you into the depths of his mind every once in a while. no one has yet to call him out for constantly checking his phone in case you ever texted or called him.

he contemplated surprising you at your apartment but decided against it, since he wasn’t too sure that you were home.

he was fortunate that he didn’t, because you haven’t left your studio since you entered it a week ago. you took two-hour long naps whenever you couldn’t think up anything for the songs and ordered take-out every time you were hungry. basically, no one except for the delivery men have seen you in this past week.

alas completing half of the work you were given, you decided to take a little break and play around with your instruments. but bumzu had noticed that the door to your studio had been closed a little too long and knocked on it before entering. the two of you got into a little argument about your work and personal life and you ended up going home because he threatened to confiscate the keys to your studio for an entire month.

you’re home now. you have just kicked off your shoes and placed them neatly into the cabinet near the entrance. you don’t fail to notice the extra pair that you certainly don’t own. smiling to yourself, you throw your bag on the couch and head into the kitchen.

unsurprisingly, you find mingyu near the stove, undoubtedly cooking up some pasta for the two of you to share.

“gyu,” you exclaim in a soft whisper, happy to see him. “how did you know I was coming home?”

he turns the fire off and pivots on his foot to be met with your body crashing against his. he lets out a laugh, stroking your hair gently.

“I figured you hadn’t left your studio in some time,” he uses a stern tone towards the last few words. you bite back a grin. “I called bumzu hyung to get you out of that suffocating place no matter what.”

“mmh,” you hum, cheek pressed against his chest. “he threatened to confiscate my studio keys. it’s not like he doesn’t lock himself in his own studio sometimes.”

mingyu pushes you away to break the hug as he says, “that’s true.” then, he leads you to the table and sits you down. “I’ll get the food ready. just wait.”

after dinner, you wash up and crash into bed with him. while he snuggles into your side, missing your scent and comforting touch, you continue a book from where you left off a week ago. it really seems like only a day has passed.

it may have been hours or minutes that passed, you don’t know. what you do know, however, is that mingyu is trying his very best not to fall asleep right now. you know what he’s up to and can’t help but feel guilty.

“you can go to sleep, gyu,” you whisper in a sweet tone, marking your book and putting it aside. he hums, but his droopy eyes are still trying to stay open. you chuckle, stroking his hair.

mingyu whines, “I haven’t seen you at all in a week!” he smushes his face into your abdomen as you ruffle his hair as a form of affection. “I miss you.” and he ends with a pout that looks like :c

you want to kiss him right now. smother him in pecks and smooches, but you like this position. it’s comfortable. so you settle with stroking his slightly long hair. “I won’t be going to work tomorrow; bumzu might just lock me out of my studio. I never should have joined universe factory.”

he knows you’re up to something — knows what that something is — and waits in anticipation for you to continue your words. and you know he knows. you try your hardest to hold back a smug grin.

“so that means you’ll get me for a whole day. twenty-four hours seems like a lot, doesn’t it?” you ask mingyu, looking down at him adoringly.

he flashes his famous smile, his fangs (the ones you absolutely fawn over) showing themselves proudly. “I’m gonna sleep now, since I have a whole day to you tomorrow,” he announces cheerfully, hugging you tightly and closing his eyes.

you go back to work the day after tomorrow with mingyu clinging to your side. when bumzu sees you, he smiles and chuckles knowingly.

I absolutely LOVE mingyu’s fangs. they’re so perfect oh my gosh.

taglist : @i520sn @piakae @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @f3v3rs @wonwoospartyhat @lesdevoeux @wonuulvr @svtcaratlove @amazingly-amazing-loser @ckline35 @enhacolor @woozarts @famouspoetrydinosaur @kokoiinuts @ahnneyong @kawennote09 @jcngh0-hq @marrgohh @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @reverbtunes @starnight-charmer @bimbo4jotaro @zonked_times @bangbangtandotcom

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#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu reactions #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu fanfic #kim mingyu #seventeen #raena mini writes

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ziggyzolch · 1 month

Text

Your Prettiness is Seeping Through (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: You and Wanda get sent to a mental hospital at the same time. Super huge trigger warning!!!! This story contains talk and descriptions of bulimia, eating disorders (reader) , suicide attempts, depression (Wanda) and mental illness in general. Please read at your own risk!! If you feel like any of these will trigger you, don't feel obligated to continue reading.

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

---------------where's your head at?---------------- ❅❅❅

Four times. Your mother caught you four times before she actually showed any concern.

The first time your mother caught you, she had called you disgusting. She threatened to tell your father, not out of worry but spite. She forgot.

You weren’t expecting her to be home so early, and that’s when she caught you the second time. The door to your room was open, which your mother took as an invitation. She stopped in her tracks, then slowly walked out, closing the door behind her, not without an awkward stare-off. She never brought it up.

The third time went about the same as the second.

Right now was the fourth, and this time she was accompanied by your father.

The position you were in was unbelievably compromising. You hadn’t even realized you blacked out until you were startled back into consciousness by your father barging into the bathroom. A gasp came from behind him, your mother peeking her head over his shoulder.

“Oh my god.” Your mother covers her mouth with her hand, your father staring at you blankly.

Crouched on the floor in your underwear, vomit covered tissues surrounded you, the stench of bile seeping from the toilet. “No, it’s,” You sluggishly push yourself off the floor, attempting to pick up the discarded tissues and wipe the vomit off the toilet seat, “Not what it looks like.”

Your mother pushes past your father, touching a sore spot on your forehead. Red coats the tip of her fingers when she pulls back her hand. That's when you notice the little blood pool on the floor, you must’ve hit your head when you fell.

In hindsight, you should have double checked the lock on the bathroom door.

“Please, leave.” You plead.

The worry in your mother’s eyes is nauseating. She had never shown this much care the other times. You figure the forehead injury is what pushed her over the edge, and the presence of your father.

“Clean up, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Your father gently places his hands on your mother’s shoulders, ushering her out.

You sighed, picking up the rest of the tissues you placed around the toilet to make cleaning up easier. Using up the entire toilet paper roll, you finish wiping the vomit off the toilet and go to the sink, cleaning up the saliva and vomit off your forearms and hands.

It’s been 3 years since you started. In all honesty, you had no idea why you resorted to bulimia. You had been losing weight fine, there was no reason to. It was after you got food poisoning that you realized how easy it was to reverse everything. Having an addictive personality didn’t help, and by the third day you were scrolling through forums and websites, trying to get worse.

Every girl you knew had some kind of disorder. It was a bond you and all of them shared. You couldn’t talk to the pretty girl about the various types and shades of lip gloss, but you could relate with her on how much you hated this one specific area of your body.

You couldn’t keep up with the STEM girls’ ramblings, but you found that all your mothers had called you fat.

You couldn’t offer any help to the digital artist when she complained about not finding the right brush to bring her idea to life, but you could offer each other weight loss advice.

You couldn’t relate to the girls’ boy obsessed conversations, but you could relate to how you could never be with someone that weighs less than you.

You couldn’t enjoy a plain rice cake for lunch with the skinny girls, but you could relate to wanting to get worse.

Vanity was a shared characteristic of every girl you knew. You’ve seen the fit soccer girl pull at her love handles, the STEM girl pull at her shirt and adjust her posture, the pretty girls sucking in when a mediocre boy passed by, and the skinny girl tearing up after getting weighed at the nurses office, and every girl that got weighed after her. If you could relate to one thing, it was that you all hated at least one part of your body.

So, nobody asked how you lost weight so fast. Nobody asked why your lips were cracked at the corners. You and your two best friends had all developed bulimia independently, which was crazy to you, but also encouraging. They would never report you and vice versa. You were each others fucked up kind of support system.

Right now, though, they weren’t there to reassure you that it’ll be fine.

'You’re not too skinny, your mom won’t find out, the marks on your knuckles aren’t too obvious.'

Right now it was all out in the open.

You were so fucked.

❅❅❅

On the other side of town, Wanda Maximoff was being made to throw up by her best friend. Her hand trembles as she shoves two fingers down Wanda’s throat. She had walked in on her half-conscious on the floor of her bathroom, an empty pill bottle held loosely in her hand. She gags when she feels the ridges, almost throwing up when she grazes her uvula. With one hand still down her friend’s throat, Natasha used her other to pull out her phone and call 911.

Wanda mumbles incoherently as Natasha ends the call and throws her phone to the side, sighing in relief when Wanda finally expels the contents of her stomach. Natasha had known how hard her brother’s death was for her, but she had never expected it to get this bad.

Pietro’s death was devastating for all of them, but they had to move forward. Natasha and Wanda threw themselves into their work, just like the rest of their team. Everybody was so preoccupied by their own missions, their own guilt and their own healing. A year had passed and everybody except Wanda seemed to have moved on. Natasha hated herself for not getting Wanda help sooner. She had seen the empty bottles of alcohol and discarded razor blades littered around Wanda’s room.

Wanda walked in on her cleaning up, face paling before she turned and left. Natasha hadn’t seen any more bottles or razors after that, and it was enough for her to think Wanda was doing better. That she got her wake-up call. She never brought it up, she never offered her any more help, she never asked. Natasha figured Wanda closing herself off even more afterwards was out of embarrassment.

Natasha had grown to be a kind of older sister figure to Wanda. She cared deeply for her and it scared her. After losing the closest thing she had to a little sister, the thought of losing another was terrifying. So, she didn’t get too close, she didn’t ask why Wanda never ate with the team anymore, she didn’t want to care.

Wanda throws up a little more before the paramedics arrive. Natasha looks back and forth between Wanda and the door, rushing to the door when the knocking becomes more insistent. “She’s back there.” She points towards the bathroom, guiding the paramedics to Wanda. Natasha finally gets a good look at her best friend as the paramedics carry her away.

She notices how thin she’s gotten when her gangly legs dangle as the paramedic carrying her rushes out. She notices how her nails had been chewed down to the nub as they placed her on the stretcher. Natasha notices how pale her face is as she enters the ambulance with Wanda. She can’t stand it.

She takes out her phone, texting the rest of the team and getting them up to speed. Everyone except Wanda and Natasha had been on a mission, Wanda must’ve thought she was alone. Natasha sighs, finally turning back to her friend. She grabs her hand and pushes down the nausea at how lifeless she looked. A napkin appears in her vision. She accepts the paramedic’s offer with a little smile, wiping the vomit off her fingers.

This was going to be a long ride.

❅❅❅

Next Chapter

A/N: This is just a prologue, and the story wont be so bleak after this chapter i promise. thank you for reading!

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #neutral milk hotel

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gooppoo · 1 year

Note

Okay okay so let’s say Neteyem has had an arranged mate since he was younger and they grew up together as best friends who just always knew they were going to get married, but we’re never really lovey dovy or acted like a true couple and l when the Sully’s have to move to the Metkayina clan, Aonung takes a little liking towards y/n and Neteyam is just getting very jealous from afar and one night after he gets a little too touchy, y/n and neteyam make soft love where she reassures him that she’s his and only his and then they mate for the first time and yeah just like jealous protective neteyam and fluff and smut pls

anon you basically wrote this for me! just gonna add some of my thoughts <3

All Yours Baby.

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: angst tehe, sorta a love triangle? all characters are of age obvi, p in v, love making babeyyyy, creampie

It's been set in stone that you and Neteyam were like destined to be, even before you were chosen to be mates

But like...y'all weren't all that into each other, just sort of aware of each other's existence

Then Jake had the bright idea of moving everyone, and it more or less threw a wrench in things

You meet the Metkayina and tried to incorporate their lifestyle into yours, because adaptability is imperative in this world

As you warm up to this new ecosystem and way of life, you of course meet new friends, while still trying to balance the old connections you cherished

Ao'nung.

Ao'nung was strong, charming, and sometimes a little too confident

He was more or less your teacher - Neteyam's too - but he would take the time out of his busy day to teach you more than the surface level of the Metkayina lifestyle

And Neteyam noticed this...

He also noticed how handsy you'd get with one another

He also didn't miss how Ao'nung kissed you in front of most of the clan one evening after heavily drinking

And as not to embarrass him, you sort of kissed back, then quickly pulled away and said a quick goodnight

Trying to be undetectable, you took to the water and swam far until you reached some rocks peaking from the surface, and perched upon them

You were out of breath from the kiss and from the intensity of your quick leave

Drinking was on the top of your list of regrets

You rested back again the rocks, studying the stars and hoping to find some calm in them

And guess who shows up not long after - scaring you a bit with his near silent arrival

Neteyam

And he's pissed, ugh he's such a bawl baby sometimes, but it's endearing

You yelp and scold him for scaring you

Shortly, he apologizes and makes room for himself on the small patch of land

He stares at you. Not in a weird, threatening way, but like he's searching for the right words through you

Let's be honest, Neteyam isn't the best with words

"I didn't know you and Ao'nung were..."

You felt your body stiffen up, heart skipping a beat painfully

Quickly, you sat up and pressed your brows together at him

"We're not." You said with the same amount of attitude as Tuk

That seemed to ease his expression

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, "Good."

But he could still feel you watching over him, studying him like you had the stars

His electric yellow eyes would dart from his lap to yours bashfully, slightly embarrassed

To ease his discomfort, you slid a hand onto his knee, then scooped up his palm

Like you had done it a million times, your fingers interlaces and your palms met, feeling the heat building between your skin

You decided to scoot a few inches closer

...and so did he

Many inches closer in fact

Then there was a split second where your eyes met again, and they fluctuated until your pupils were as expansive as the night sky

It was like your minds had connected in that moment, because he pulled you into his lap as you had every intention to crawl onto it

Not too soon after came a kiss

The first one shared between you two may I add

So it was a little awkward, but still had butterflies exploding in your stomach

After finding a sweet melody between your lips, tongue, and faint sighs, more suggestive behavior was thrown into the mix

Like you grinding down on his lap...and eventually the tent under his loincloth

Neteyam cradled your back and laid you along the ground with him above you

You didn't dare pull away from your kiss, because you had quickly become addicted to the surge of electricity he had rushing to your heart

His mature hands mapped out your body, spending more time near your thighs and waist

Running his nails along your hypersensitive skin so you'd yelp into his mouth

When you started wriggling your hips toward his hand he knew he needed to escalate things

His fingers dipped below your loincloth and was painfully slow to caress your folds

But he knew to gently circle your clit, and run his tongue along your bottom lip, while his hand cupped your face and his swipe thumb along your cheekbone

There was a gentleness about him that Ao'nung had never once introduced to you, and it left you more hot than you expected

Neteyam could feel the heat you generated and spread it along your center until your sighs were moans

He knew what patterns to trace long enough for your back to rise to his chest, struggling to return his kiss

And while your mind was still swirling with the remnants of your orgasm, Neteyam prepared himself for you

"Is this okay? Are you okay?" He wondered, just as out of breath as you

If he had you cumming with just his fingers, you could only imagine what else he could do

"Yes, please." Your eyes were surveying him with adoration.

He talked you through every step, asking you to speak up when it was too much or uncomfortable, but you didn't need to

Neteyam was gentle and easy, and you were plenty prepped for the stretch he offered you

So much so, you wriggled the rest of his length in you, both of you moaning and laughing one he reached your hilt

He leaned back over you, propped up on his elbows and lips ready to dive back into yours

"Ready for me to move?"

You nodded, and rid the space between you

First he started slow to make sure things were still in order

Then he picked up his pace until neither one of you could continue swirling your tongues together and just breathed into the crook of each other's neck

Your hands felt along the muscles of Neteyam's back, noticing how they flexed and whining

"Neteyam..." you reeled, "Show me I'm all yours."

It was like a connection was made after you purred those words into his ear

He didn't hesitate to take those words to heart and preform accordingly

By accordingly, he tucked a hand under the small of your back and lifted your hips a few inches, and ran his pelvis along your clit with each thrust

Meanwhile, he peppered wet kisses along your neck and chest, even going as far as to nip a few purple marks into your skin

"Mmm gonna cum baby - show you I'm mine."

You didn't object in the slightest, finding yourself nearing that same fate

His rhythm stuttered as he reached his climax, and returned to a snail like pace as he released in you

You both shared a sloppy kiss, feeling each other finish in unison and hold each other impossibly close

"Always gonna be yours..." you murmured between it all, feeling him smile against your lips

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you

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lordsukunas · 3 months

Text

daycare worker? attendant?! nanami headcanons sorry this has actually been nibbling away at my brain... i'll shut up abt this au at some point. anyway, enjoy!

daycare attendant! nanami whose fingers always smell like citrus after lunch because kugisaki has randomly deemed him her orange peeler.

daycare attendant! nanami who roleplays with the kids as a chivalrous knight during tea time. he sneaks glances at you from his cramped spot in the tiny chair, a foam sword resting on his thighs. when your gaze meets his and he sees the small, amused smirk on your lips, he swears his heart skips a beat or two.

daycare attendant! nanami who packs extra snacks for the kids. he has an entire list in his notes app of their preferences and allergies.

daycare attendant! nanami who, during nap time, listens to r&b (sade, micheal jackson, beyonce, h.e.r., ms. lauryn hill) while attempting to finish up a book he started weeks ago.

daycare attendant! nanami who walks you to your car every evening once all the kids are gone, even if his car is parked on the other side of the parking lot.

daycare attendant! nanami who notices you eyeing one of the pastries he brought from a small bakery. that same pastry is on your desk when you unlock your classroom the next morning.

daycare attendant! nanami who genuinely enjoys doing word searches with the kids, even if they're so easy it takes him less than five minutes.

daycare attendant! nanami who looks up whenever one of the kids calls your name. you don't even have to be in the room, and he'll still do it, hazel eyes searching for your radiant presence.

daycare attendant! nanami whose desktop wallpaper is a picture of kuantan, malaysia. when you ask him about it, he explains the reason calmly as always, but you can see the twinkle in his eyes and the smile threatening to spread across his features.

daycare attendant! nanami who is picky as hell about candles. if it stinks or is overly strong, he won't spare it a second glance. that's not to say he doesn't enjoy unconventional smells, though.

daycare attendant! nanami who only enjoys talking to you. he's cordial enough to his other coworkers, but something about how you smile at him or gesture animatedly with your hands while you speak or visit him during lunch, ready to tell him a story about something silly the kids did... it makes him a little more excited to come to work every day.

divider creds: hitobaby hai!! i'm back again lolsies. i can't tell if attendant or worker is a better word, but i think imma just call it attendant instead. also, ik i said that he wouldnt go back to jujutsu sorcery but like imagine him spending a lil extra time before work to exorcise any curses that get too close to the daycare... its not realistic bc its against the silly rules of jujutsu society or wtv but idgaf!!! nanamin loves them kids (and maybe u idk)<3

#jjk #jjk fluff #jjk nanami #nanami headcanons #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #daycare attendant! nanami #kari's drabbles :3

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upon-a-starry-night · 2 months

Text

Number Neighbors Pt.25

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat doesn’t respond to any of your texts, she doesn’t explain why she was sorry, nor does she show up on Friday. You waited at the cafe for 3 hours before you finally accepted that she wasn’t coming. You had been too anxious to order coffee so you ordered a tea but it had long gotten cold. The barista would glance at you every so often with pity and embarrassment burned your cheeks.

You threw the cold tea in the trash and left the cafe vowing to avoid this part of town for a while. You were hurt and angry but more than anything you were confused. She had seemed thrilled to meet you and it was her idea in the end so why was she bailing on you? The thought that she wasn’t who she claimed to be quietly crept up on you throughout the day but you’d heard her voice, at the very least she wasn’t a 60-year-old man. At least she didn’t sound like one.

You’re looping through the five stages of grief throughout the week and by the end of it, you're a sobbing mess in your friend's arms. There’s copious amounts of ice cream in your freezer and a bottle of wine has already been emptied as the two of you find yourself back on your couch but this time the circumstances are less enjoyable.

“I don't understand what I did wrong” Your friend gently caresses your hair as you stain her shirt with salty tears. She’d known the second she saw you that something was wrong and you’d nearly broken down on your lunch break in front of her when she asked if you were alright.

Even your mother seemed to notice something was off just by the sound of your voice. She’d threatened to come down and maim the person that hurt you and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that neither of you would know where to find her.

“Maybe she’s just scared?” Your friend tried to reason. You don’t know how long she’s been comforting you but it’s the only thing keeping you from texting Nat again. You’ve ranged from screaming at her through texts to sending her sob-ridden voicemails and you hoped to keep at least a small part of your dignity intact.

“But it was her idea!” You argue “and she knows I wouldn’t be mad if she wasn’t ready. I just don’t understand why she won’t respond” A fresh wave of anger washes over you as you get up from the couch, your hands waving wildly as you make your way to the fridge “And what was with that cryptic text?! Why couldn’t she just say why she was sorry? What’s an apology without an explanation?”

You angrily grab a carton of ice cream and two spoons, huffing as you plop down on the couch and handing the spare spoon to your companion. You instinctively reach out for your phone, checking to see if Nat’s at least read your messages. She hasn’t.

You go to text her again, fueled by frustration despite your thread of unanswered messages. They stare tauntingly at you as the blue light assaults your tired teary eyes.

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Are you okay? We don’t have to meet but I’m getting worried about you

Y/n🍦:

Nat? I’m going to call.

Y/n🍦:

I never realized you don’t have a voicemail tone

I was hoping I’d get to hear your voice one last time

Y/n🍦:

You know what? Screw you, I don't deserve this!

Y/n🍦:

I didn’t mean it. I miss you.

I’m calling again.

You make a move to text her again but your friend slips the phone from your hands before you get the chance. She deletes whatever jumbled mess you had started typing and sets your phone behind her so you can’t reach it. You simultaneously want to scream at her and thank her.

“Maybe we should give her some time?” You pick up on what she’s saying immediately. Realizing she might not be talking about Nat. You only manage a small nod as you slump further into the couch and start eating your ice cream.

“Can we put something on?” Your friend nods and turns the TV on and you’re grateful for the temporary distraction but you know the second she leaves you’ll probably send Nat another voicemail.

The silence allows you ample time to give in to your anxiety, realizing you don’t know as much as you probably should about Nat. You don’t know her last name, if she has any siblings, what she does for a living. For all you know, she could be a contract assassin, it would make sense why she disappeared all the time.

You had no idea who you’d been talking to and now that you’d grown an attachment to her she ghosted you. Had that been her plan the whole time? Was this some kind of game to her? Did she even really care about you? Your thoughts swirl and grow into a ball of anxiety and paranoia and you stare blankly at the TV as the cold of the metal spoon presses into your tongue.

Nat lays on the cold pullout couch of her trailer and stares at the ceiling for what feels like days. It’s all she can bring herself to do when she’s not busying herself with other distractions. When she doesn’t distract herself her mind wanders to you.

She promised she’d never make you cry. Her heart squeezes at the thoughts that must be running through your head. She’d had to leave her phone behind at the tower but she’d gotten a glimpse of your worried messages while she was packing. She felt horrible to leave you without an explanation but how would you believe her if she told you over text?

She planned to tell you everything when you met but now she wouldn’t get the chance. And all because of the stupid government treaty Stark wanted them to sign. It made her impossibly angry just thinking about Thursday evening.

*The Avengers had all gathered in the meeting room, except Peter who was taking tests at school that he didn’t want to miss. The room was tense as Tony flipped through pictures and videos of the destruction their fights often led to, only stopping when Steve told him to. Nat could understand where Tony was coming from, she understood that the wreck that became the city was distressing but if it meant lives were saved wasn’t it worth it?

She refused to be under anyone’s control ever again now that she had her freedom. She wasn’t going to be put on a leash. They already complied with all of the publicity stunts and interviews the government made them do but now they wanted to control their lives? What were they going to do next tell her how to breathe?

Not to mention she didn’t want them getting involved in her relationships. She couldn’t have them knowing about you- controlling you. She wouldn’t let them take you from her. She smiled at the thought of you, glancing at her phone to see your good luck message.

“Well you can tell them your opinions face to face” Natasha’s head snaps up at Tony’s words and Bucky fixes him with a suspicious glare

“You better not be saying what I think you are Stark” He seeths out and Tony just shrugs, checking his watch

“They’ll be here in a few hours, I already agreed to sign it” The room erupts in a flurry of outrage. Wanda is the first to leave, scoffing as she pushes out of her chair and makes her way to the meeting room door. Vision follows after her, worry evident on his features.

Steve is still arguing with Tony trying to reason with him but it seems like it’s falling on deaf ears and Nat watches as her family begins crumbling in front of her eyes. She stays stoically silent, unsure of what to say to stop the fighting that's only getting worse. Bucky looks half ready to sock Tony in the face and she wouldn’t fault him for it but she doesn’t want violence to break out nonetheless.

“They backed me into a corner! We don’t have any other options! We don’t know what they’ll do to us if we don’t agree!” She can hear the desperation in Stark’s voice; the fear. A man who was always trying to prevent what could happen so much that he became oblivious to what was happening.

“We don’t know what they’ll do to us if we do!” It’s the last thing Bucky says before he storms out of the room, Steve following not soon after. Tony looks to Bruce but he only solemnly shakes his head, sitting quietly in his chair as he tries to think of another solution.

Stark tries to reason with Nat but she just sighs. She doesn’t know how to solve this yet but she’ll figure out a solution. For now, she needs to do what she assumes the rest of her family is doing: Pack and find a place to hide out for a while. She’d seen what the government does to powerful people they don’t trust- she’d been part of some of those missions. She knows it’s in their best interest not to stick around unless they want to be thrown onto The Raft until they agree to sign their lives away.*

That’s how she ended up here, in the middle of nowhere, cold and alone. She’d had to leave her phone behind so that she couldn’t be tracked and that meant she couldn’t text you. She briefly considered texting you from a burner phone, she had your number memorized but she didn’t want to freak you out and she was worried about how you’d react.

She didn’t want to have to tell you the truth over the phone, and what were the chances of you believing it was her? Most of all she was terrified that you’d be angry, that you’d tell her you never wanted to hear from her again. You would be justified in that response but she wasn’t ready to face that just yet. So she busied herself with concocting any possible ways to get her family safe and back together again.

Pt.26

A/n: Sorry for the late chapters I've been rewriting them until they feel good enough to put out. (Also yes this is based on Civil War but it doesn't follow the same outcome)~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013

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vulturv0lans · 11 months

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hiiii lovely! can i please request a dom!brattamer!diluc smut in which the sub!fem!brat!reader has been teasing him all day on shift at the winery and being a massive brat, so he decides to punish her by teasing her back and eventually fucking her behind the bar? and bonus points for choking + leaving marks! thank you sm, have a good rest of ur day! ^-^ <3

sorry if its a big request :>

ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀʜᴏᴜʀꜱ (ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ)

eeeek a request!! this is my first time writing & publishing smut hope u enjoy hehe sorry it took so long!!

listening to azeru's audios while writing has its benefits <3 anyway i think i might need some holy water after this

tags: dom!diluc, sub!reader, brat taming, oral, semi-public, choking, marking, creampie, rough & spicy & kinky but soft at the end because i want it to

word count: 3.3k (oops)

requests open!

diluc swallows thickly as you saunter across the room, hair a little too bouncy on your shoulders and chest pushed up a little too high out of the neckline of your shirt, your eyes dancing a little too tantalizingly from patron to patron, lingering a second too long on the intoxicated figures drooling over you, before landing squarely on his with a knowing smile.

you've been doing this all day, and the clock cannot strike midnight fast enough. for the past few hours, all diluc can think of is throwing you against the wall and teaching you a lesson about teasing him in public, or wearing less revealing clothes around useless drunks, for that matter.

but several of them still remain, and he cannot close the bar for another good thirty minutes. even though most of the crowd has thinned out, the room reeks of alcohol and sweat, and there is nothing he wants to do more than physically throwing everyone out the door.

no, he must wait.

the knuckles that gripped the bar counter turn white from the pressure, and he takes several deep breaths to maintain his composure. you ignore the antics of the drunk customers, though, expertly dodging the haphazardly placed stools on the floor and opening the latch on the door that clearly says "employees only", before coming to a stop next to him.

the air is filled with the scent of you and diluc feels lightheaded from the sudden lack of oxygen. you support yourself with both hands on the counter, and he has to force his eyes away from the perfect shape of your breasts, now almost threatening to spill out of your low-cut top with the way you're leaning over the bar.

"do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

you jump slightly at his sudden proximity to you, but his words send a delightful shiver down your spine nonetheless. so you feign innocence.

"i can't say i know what you're talking about."

diluc huffs in frustration and shifts out from behind you to serve a customer, and your feel the cold now that his presence is gone. still, the thought of rendering your lover helpless in front of the patrons is too exciting to pass up. when you notice a plastic cup on the floor next to diluc's feet that must've missed the previous night's cleaning, a bright idea pops into your mind.

glancing around to make sure no one is paying attention to your forthcoming disappearance, you shuffle closer to him and bend down, pretending to care enough about the cleanliness of the bar. but your hand stop short of the cup and reach for his legs instead, earning a surprised gasp from diluc before crimson eyes are glaring down at you.

"what do you think you're doing?" he hisses, only loud enough under the music and chatter for you to hear.

you blink innocently at him, but your hands don't just stop at his knees. they snake higher and higher until you grab ahold of his belt, expertly undoing the buckle and slowly pulling the fabric down his legs, stopping only when the evidence of his arousal is clear and present before your eyes.

large hands roughly grip yours before you have time to make another move, a dangerous look in his eyes intended to halt your actions only spurring you on further. you wriggle free from his grasp to gently trace the outline of his erection through his boxers, until a small wet patch stains the fabric and he inhales deeply through his nose.

you giggle quietly at his current state. kneeling down on the floor under the bar counter and settling back onto your heels, your nimble fingers hook under the waistband and finally free his aching cock from its confinements. you almost drool at the sight before you, feeling dampness pooling in your own pants.

if he really hates this so much, he would've stopped you a long time ago. you take his inaction as encouragement and lick a bold stripe up his length, earning another sharp inhale from him. you get to work almost straight away, closing your tinted lips around him until he hits the back of your throat.

you groan at the taste of him, the slight vibration making his body tighten under your hold. thankful for the music that drowns out his heavy breaths and the lewd sounds of your mouth, you swirl your tongue around his tip and the thick veins, feeling the warmth of him filling up every part of you.

you'd be lying if you say you hadn't dreamt of this, teasing and milking him dry all without a way for him to seek revenge, at least not until later.

the neckline of your shirt stretches as it gets pulled down lower, until your breasts are out on full display under him. his knee buckles at the sight, and he almost cums right there when you let go of his cock with a wet pop, before settling his length between the valley of your breasts.

your lips wrap around his tip once again as you start moving, the smooth skin on your chest now glistening with a mixture of your spit and his pre-cum. you take more of him into your mouth with his every thrust, pressing your tits together tighter around him. it isn't long until he is a mess above you, knuckles even whiter than before as he desperately tries to hold on to whatever little composure he has remaining.

he is so close, so close to spilling his seed all over your tits and that pretty face of yours. oh how he longs to see you covered in his cum-

and then you stop. right as he is nearing his climax, you release him from your mouth and pull your shirt back up over your chest, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before pulling his own pants up as well, as if nothing happened at all.

he is almost furious. but there's only so much he can do in his current position, cock red and angry and leaking from lost pleasure, and he shoos the remaining patrons out of his bar with harsher words than usual, despite it not being time to close yet. the second the last customer steps out and you turn the lock, your body is shoved up against the wood and his mouth is on yours, tugging harshly at your bottom lip.

you moan into him, finally getting a moment alone after fantasizing about this all day. diluc doesn't seem to share your excitement, however. his hands are rough on your body, firmly settling them on the round of your ass and lifting you up effortlessly.

you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you over to the counter, his lips continuing their assault on yours before moving down to the nape of your neck, roughly sucking at the sensitive skin. your core tightens at the sensation, knowing that you'd have to cover the marks with makeup for days to come. still, you're too engrossed in him to care.

when he finally breaks from you, lips swollen and eyes half closed, you know you're in for a ride tonight.

"what did i say about teasing me like that in public?" he whispers darkly into your ear, and you shiver at his hot breath on your skin.

"don't act like you didn't enjoy it-"

before you can even finish your words, a large hand wraps around your throat and you're forced to swallow the rest of your sentence, yet the wet patch in your panties only grows.

he resumes his assault on your neck, trailing his lips lower until he reaches your chest. mumbling something along the words of "get this off", your shirt roughly tugged below your chest to expose your breasts, nipples hardening in the cold air.

it's his turn to tease you now, to teach you a lesson about disobeying him.

he latches his mouth onto your breast, but instead of licking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud, it's all teeth and biting. you throw your head back, the pain soon turning into pleasure.

it's getting too warm in this room, and you need to feel his skin on yours, now.

you reach to unbutton his shirt, but nothing escapes diluc as he pins your wrists down to your sides.

no touching until you learn your lesson.

he tuts, and you whine in response, growing frustrated at the unfairness.

diluc doesn't seem to care, only releasing your breast when he feels satisfied. the skin is red and teeth marks litter the soft skin, but you barely have time to register it before your shorts are slipped down your legs, leaving you exposed in only your panties.

he chucks the denim aside in disdain. "you're almost begging people to stare at your ass in these," he grunts and forces your legs open with his knee, "is that what you want? for all those men to look at you?"

you give your head a hard shake, wanting so desperately to close your legs and relieve the pressure but with his built body settled squarely in between them, you can only dream.

a finger comes to rest below your chin, tilting your head and forcing you to look at him,

“use your words.”

"no! that's not what i-"

once again your sentence is cut short as his lips unexpectedly latch around your most sensitive area. your body jolts at the sudden pleasure, but it ends all too soon.

he runs a finger up your folds through the soaked fabric of your panties, enjoying your pathetic whimpers, "so wet already. getting off on people catching us, hm?"

you shift your weight, trying to pull him closer, but he merely hums in response as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, their softness a stark contrast to the dark hunger in his eyes.

you don't know how long he spends paying attention to everywhere but where you want him, but by the time he finally pulls your panties aside and licks up the length of your core, you almost explode right there. he groans at the taste of you, and before you even have time to react to the delicious vibrations, a finger is inside you and you see stars behind your eyelids.

the ministrations of his tongue do not stop as he pumps his hand in and out, soon adding another finger and curling them upwards to reach that one particular spot. he can feel you clenching around him, and despite wanting nothing more than to feel your tightness around his cock instead, bad girls don't deserve to cum just yet. and he knows that.

every moan and whimper out of your swollen lips is more higher pitched than the last, and diluc knows you're close. all the words in your head have been replaced with his name and mindless begging, and you can only repeatedly whisper cute little please's at him, hoping that asking nicely would get you what you want.

but diluc has other ideas in mind.

just as you're about to reach your high, he abruptly pulls back and withdraws his fingers. a mix of emotions washes over you, frustration, desperation, and downright horniness longing for something other than his fingers inside of you, now. your eyes start to water as he leans back and admires your current state with a proud smirk. you’re propped up on your elbows with matching littered marks and bruises on your neck and inner thighs, legs spread wide open and glistening with your arousal, your pussy pathetically clenching around nothing as you desperately chase your high.

"diluc, please," you breathe out, tears betraying your resolution to remain composed. you feel your orgasm fade with every passing second and you’re clawing at every chance to reach it again.

"please what?" he teases in a singsong voice, lifting his hand to your mouth and you obey almost too quickly, swirling your tongue around the fingers that were just coated with your own taste.

you hide your face in his shoulder, suddenly too embarrassed to confess all the dirty thoughts racing through your head, all the things you want him to do to you, whatever dominance you had established with that sloppy blowjob under the bar counter long dissipated like the wind.

seeing no response, diluc draws back a little and lifts your chin with one hand, forcing your tear stained eyes to look up at him. slowly, he leans down and presses a languid kiss to your lips without breaking eye contact, and for a moment you thought he has finally had his share of fun being mean to you.

this is where you’d be wrong, of course.

his teeth catch on your bottom lip as he breaks away, tugging a little too harshly and earning a moan from you before you could stop it. the corners of his own lips curl up in a sly grin as a firm hand slides up your chest before coming to a rest around your neck, and your eyes widen.

“use. your words.”

the letters tumble out of his mouth and directly into yours, the fingers around your throat tightening slightly until every last bit of rationality is squeezed out of your brain.

“i want you.”

he grunts with what can only be described as satisfaction and excitement, but his hand remains closed around your throat.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

your pussy is aching with arousal, craving for something - anything to fill you up, bringing you back to that euphoria you were so senselessly robbed of.

“i want you to fuck my pussy so good i can’t walk in the morning,” you blurt out with a pathetic sob, “i want you to fuck me like i’m your little toy, please, diluc, want you to fill me up!”

he lets out a low growl, composure and patience running out as he finally snaps his hips into you, bottoming out without even giving you a moment to adjust. your head falls back and you cry out at the sudden pleasure. you feel so full. so blissfully full as his cock slides in and out of your walls, fitting so perfectly inside you like missing puzzle pieces.

he starts moving in slow, long strokes, reaching deep inside you and hitting that one spot with every thrust. your hands roam each others’ bodies like animals starved for days, and your skin is on fire. diluc reaches for the hem of your shirt and you comply a little too quickly, raising your arms so he could rip it off of you and finally free your breasts from the constraint of your bra.

despite the heat of the moment, he takes a second to admire your body, so perfect before him. your breasts pushed against each other in your lacy bra, and he doesn’t waste anymore time before running his hand down its smooth curve, until a nipple is freed from its constraints. he moans out as if he wasn’t just sucking on them a few minutes ago, as if he hasn’t seen you naked plenty of times already.

he was planning on saying something sappy at the sight before his eyes, but a sudden clench of your walls around his length makes him jump with pleasure.

you can wave goodbye to whatever sentimental words he had in his mind, the warmth and tightness of your pussy replacing all of his thoughts with a primal, burning desire to fuck you stupid.

diluc quickens his pace, his hands doing fast work unclasping the hook of your bra before moving down to rub rough circles on your clit. you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his back in a feeble attempt to bring him even closer, even deeper. the air is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the lewd noise almost making you tighten even more.

“fuck. do that again.”

he seethes through his teeth, and you obey, clenching repeatedly around him until you are close to your own release.

diluc must’ve sensed it, too. his hand makes it way back up your stomach, past your perky tits bouncing with each thrust, and firmly settles around your neck again.

you’re reduced to a blubbering mess as he tightens his grip while maintaining fast, steady thrusts, the lack of oxygen somehow fuelling your arousal even more.

“is this what you wanted? to be fucked and choked like this?”

you nod fervently, the tip of his cock hitting your spot over and over again until you almost see stars.

“do you want to cum?”

if you nodded any faster you’re sure you would’ve broken your neck. the coil in your stomach is tightened to an impossible amount that you feel it might burst at any moment.

“do you think you deserve to cum?”

you let out a breathy whimper, avoiding his question.

“answer.”

his hand tightens again as a warning, and you shake your head - as much as you could in your submissive position.

satisfied with your answer, diluc finally loosens his grip and you gasp for air. seeing this as your opportunity, you clench down on him, hard.

a line of curses splutter past his lips as he almost cummed first from your vice-like grip on his cock, the embarrassment soon turning into anger as he fucks you even faster, harder, until you’re almost passed out from the pleasure.

you’re so close. if he just touched you-

a harsh slap landed on your clit and you jolt. this is not what you had in mind, but it’s surely getting you where you need to be nonetheless, if not faster. seeing this side of diluc is a bigger turn on than almost anything else, which is what prompted you to tease him in the first place.

he can barely hold back anymore. your hands are slipping on the counters, trying to hold onto anything as you near your release.

“cum for me baby, i want to hear you.”

that’s all the permission you needed as the coil inside you snaps, powerful pleasure washing over you and rendering you helpless as you shake uncontrollably, juices dripping down the counter onto the hardwood floors and the sheer force of your orgasm pushing his cock out, your face contorted with pleasure. the sight of your pussy, still squirting and clenching from your release, makes his head so clouded that he can only think of one thing, and he roughly thrusts into your sensitive hole again without second thought.

a few more sloppy thrusts and he’s cumming deep inside you, his cock spurting thick ropes of cum to the rhythm of your clenching as you come down from your high. the air is filled with a harmony of both your moans as he collapses on top of you, completely spent after the hour of rough sex.

you lay limp on the counter, head still reeling from your high. if a man of his stamina and strength is exhausted, just imagine your pathetic fucked-out state.

but you’re happy. perhaps a little too happy at finally being brought to your release, and soon that sensation is amplified as diluc slowly pulls out and you feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of your abused pussy.

you remain still for a few moments, legs still pressed against your chest and your heat exposed to the air, which is now hot and humid from your activities. it’s a sight diluc wishes to have imprinted on his mind for the rest of his life.

he leans down to kiss you, gently this time, smoothing out the hairs stuck to your skin. coming down from his high, he breaks and kiss and leans his forehead against yours,

“are you alright?”

you nod, a blissful smile on your lips, and he has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, diluc.”

diluc m.list | m.list | rules | inbox

#luna writes ☽#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #diluc smut #diluc x reader

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ineffably-human · 10 months

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Okay, so: the hypnosis!

Nandor's actually the one who wasn't great at it in the past, yes, whatever. I'm fine with those kind of details being all over the place, personally. Even though it's weird.

What's intriguing me more is that this is clearly a runner. We've heard it mentioned two episodes in a row that they're starting to overly rely on hypnosis as a means of dealing with their slip-ups, specifically when they accidentally reveal themselves as vampires. There's the question of it impacting the minds of the humans around them, in the long-term.

Combine that with:

Sean (their biggest link to the normal human world, whose brain is already fucked up from hypnosis) appearing more frequently.

The vampires going out into the world more in all four of the episodes critics have had access to - and more after that, if the episode titles and summaries so far are any indication.

Nandor does a verbal faux pas on a newscast, we have seen clips with all of them on the newscast as newscasters, is this for a mass hypnosis? (The second one after Nandor's at the basketball game, that was a lot of extras for a simple gag!) A mass coverup?

Colin is going to be running for public office, what's less secretive than that?

They're going to a Pride Parade, what's a better way to juxtapose secrecy than that?

Increased emphasis on the documentary crew. Does the neighborhood notice they've had a film crew around them for fiveish years now? What do they think it's for? Who's supposed to see this documentary anyway?

Guillermo still has another episode with his family coming up, the family that were hypnotized into forgetting major things that are still a part of his personal truth, things that would be a huge risk to the vampires if they came to light...

Between Guillermo's personal secrets and this increased emphasis on the vampires out in the world, not to mention the whole thing with Derek as a metaphor for infidelity, I think secrets and lies are the theme this season. The way change/transformation was a theme in season 4, and power and protection were the themes of season 3.

The 'lies' part of things can also involve self-delusion, that's how Nadja's piece can fold into it. Nandor and Guillermo's feelings about each other work there, too. (I think they know Guillermo has a little crush on Nandor, but neither of them realize just how much and maybe don't even believe it's still ongoing.)

And I think this is a great time to bring it up, because this season is about Guillermo maybe becoming a vampire at last - and I think the secrecy is part of what draws Guillermo to being a vampire. It's like a contradiction that's a feature, not a bug. He's spent a long time hiding major facets of who he is to everyone around him, and being a vampire means living openly, freely, while simultaneously being part of a secret species.

Hell, he's the one who gives us the thesis statement at the end of the season's first episode:

"Being a vampire is no different than being a human. We're all just doing what it takes to survive. We go on about our day. Blend in. Act like everyone else. But the truth is, we're all just hiding in plain sight."

I think the vampires are going to get into a situation that hypnosis can't get them out of, maybe something involving the documentary crew and the footage they've collected as well. Something that fully threatens to expose them, impact their safety, with no way of turning back.

Maybe it's something where only Guillermo, as the bridge between human and vampire he's always been, can save them. After all, what is he right now, if not stuck in-between?

#fandom: wwdits #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandermo #otp: nandermo #i am a meta gremlin

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crusty-chronicles · 5 months

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Hiei Courting Headcannons

In honor of the Live Action series (Even though I don't Have High Hopes For It)

Now, we all know Hiei is a very stubborn demon. Especially when it comes to his feelings. When he realized he liked you and didn't just tolerate your presence, he fought hard to deny it.

So what if he spent most of his time with you? Who cares that the first place he goes to after coming back from the demon world is your house? It didn't matter that his eyes seemed to soften whenever you were around.

No not one bit.

But the second Kurama threatened to court you himself, well Hiei couldn't just sit down and let that happen. Didn't that fox understand he shouldn't touch what wasn't his.

1. Showing off to see if you're interested

Hiei may be a demon, but he has some semblance of manners. His pride wouldn't allow him to claim you until you accepted his advances. Any creature who dared force themselves onto another was the lowest of the lowest.

So, his first step is showing off during fights.

Letting the enemy bloody him up more to show that injury didn't affect him.

Using more spirit energy than was needed to end another demon with just one blow

Stopping you from fighting because he'll "take care of it. You humans are too fragile."

He'll also use his Jagan more frequently.

You lost something?

Well look no further, he can track it down precisely and easily.

Praise him even once or say in passing he's really strong, and he'll take that as you being interested.

Even if you're just trying to be nice.

2. Wearing Richer Colors

I firmly believe Hiei courts more like a crow than the usual beast. He's sleek like one anyways.

Now if you didn't know, most birds attract mates with their bright feathers.

In Hiei's case, he'll start to wear dark, yet rich colors to get your attention.

Strength is one thing. Any low-class demon can demonstrate strength and be happy about it.

What Hiei is looking for is to see if you're attracted to him. If you find him visually appealing.

Though he's not a vain creature, he still yearns for the confirmation that him and him alone captivates you.

He'll start with darker blues. Maybe change up his cloak a little.

And when that doesn't work, he moves onto purples. Getting teased by Kurama for 'changing up his style.' But he stays determined.

Eventually moving onto a burgundy. And the way you were immediately drawn to him then made it worth it.

Relishing in your compliments on how 'the color really suits him' and 'it matches his eyes perfectly.'

Letting you grab at the fabric and inspect it until he asks why you like it so much.

"Well I always thought your eyes were pretty. It's nice to see something that reminds me of them."

He's a prideful smug bastard after that. Not even comments from Yusuke can tick him off that day.

3. Bringing You Shiny Objects

Once again, he courts like a crow.

Now that you've shown interest in him, it's time to properly start showing his affections.

Hiei isn't one for flirting or compliments. He's more prone to showing rather than telling. And in this case the way to do that is to bring you little trinkets that catch his eye.

Usually, it'll be small gems he stumbles across in demon world.

Rubies, diamonds, and emeralds. All things he knows where to find thanks to his prior occupation as a thief.

He's not trying to buy your affection. He knows you're not that vain judging by the pushback you always give when he presents you with a jewel.

No, rather he's trying to show that he can provide for you. That you'd never have to worry about scrounging around to survive as long as he was with you.

A protector and a provider.

He also notices how you treasure the less valuable items with as much fondness and care as the others.

He had asked you why you slept with a chunk of pyrite on your bedside one time. And your response let him know he wouldn't give up on pursuing you anytime soon.

"Because it was one of the first things you gave me. Don't you remember? You said something along the lines of fool's gold for a fool's heart. I think it's sweet you even got me something at all."

You didn't care about what he brought you. All that mattered was that it came from him.

If that didn't mean you accepted his advances, then he didn't know what would.

4. Scenting

Ah, yes. Back to the classics

Once you've accepted the gifts he's continuously given you, Hiei takes it as you liking him back.

He's aware human and demon courting processes are very different from one another.

But he's exactly not human, is he?

When it comes to demons, once you've accepted their advances, your mates.

In a sense, it's like dating. Only except a dissatisfied partner will kill the other in most cases.

With this in mind, Hiei happily accepts the fact you're his and immediately moves onto the final stage of courting.

Scenting you so that other demons know to back off.

Think of it as your last out if you realize what's happening and actually don't have feelings for him.

The scenting process will start with Hiei showing up to your place of residence and staying with you.

Not yet following you around, but making sure to spend time in each room.

If he has to leave somewhere, he'll leave either an article of clothing or his sword.

It confuses you at first and you think maybe he just trusts you.

But you start to think otherwise when he starts getting touchy.

Laying in your lap and ordering you to stay still, only to find out he's fallen asleep on you.

Or letting his face rest against the crook of your neck. Which you didn't mind all that much.

It was quite funny to see someone as tough as Hiei become completely docile around you.

You weren't too worried until he followed you out when you went to buy groceries.

"You don't like being around people. Don't you wanna stay home until I get back?" You asked him.

"I've already shown you that you're a very fragile creature compared to me. It's best I accompany you so you don't hurt yourself."

Usually you would have argued back, but it was clear something was off with him.

These past few months had been strange with him either trying to get your attention or trying to stay directly next to you.

You wouldn't figure out what it was until your other three friends showed up.

Kuwabara wanting to have a movie night and you offering your home to do it.

When the three of them arrived, you noticed Kurama and Yusuke hesitate by the entrance.

"Something wrong?" You questioned.

" I can't put my finger on it, but something's telling me I shouldn't go in." Yusuke responded.

Unawares it was Hiei's scent warding him off.

But Kurama knew. He'd known since you opened the door.

It seems Hiei had staked his claim on you.

Yet judging by your calm demeanor, you didn't know that yet.

"Have you noticed Hiei acting strange lately?" Kurama asked.

"Yes! I thought I was the only one. He's been really clingy. I mean at first it was odd he kept bringing me stuff like gems, but then he started following me around like a house cat. It's endearing, but honestly what's going on with him?" You ranted. Prompting a laugh from the redhead.

"I see. Good luck on your new relationship."

Before you could question him about what he meant, a gentle grip around your waist stopped you.

"What're you doing inviting these fools to our home. You know how long it took me to get rid of their scent the first time? It's like you want me to start the whole courting process all over again."

Courting?

Oh.

You couldn't say you minded now that you knew what was actually going on.

#yu yu hakusho x reader #hiei yu yu hakusho #hiei jaganshi #hiei x reader #x reader #yyh hiei #hiei courting headcannons

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arabellasleopardcoat · 3 months

Text

Pyrite - Chapter 3: Tears have drowned you

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Chapter summary: Aemma's and Daemon's coins finally land. Reader is not pleased.

Chapter warnings: Anxiety.Violence. Nudity. Sexual remarks. Kidnapping/ witness protection (Daemon's version) Reader gets slapped a few times, discussions of abortion and death.

A/N: They finally met! I am so sorry if this chapter is off, I am going through a breakup.

“This is an interesting contraption.” The Prince says, examining the dry brush that you use on the Queen before her bath. It makes her skin smoother. You gape at him, setting down the bucket of water that you were carrying. You were not expecting him to seek you out.

Panic rises at your throat and threatens choking you. You were not expecting him to come after you. Not like this.

It had all seemed so clear when you had overheard it. You couldn't let an innocent baby die, so you had to send the note. But after you had done so, fear started to sink in.

Otto Hightower was not a man to be trifled with. He was smart and ruthless, alight with the sort of fire that prompted me to do anything necessary to be someone in life. It was a yearning not so dissimilar to your own. Maybe Ser Otto was not of common birth, but he was a second son. And all second sons spent their lives waiting, just like the commoner, to be noticed.

He would do anything to finally get the recognition and standing he felt he deserved, including disposing of unexpected obstacles. After all, if he was willing to kill a babe still in the womb, why not a serving girl?

Your nights were spent lying on your cot, with the blanket pulled up high enough to hide your face and hair. You felt safer that way. The blanket wrapped tight around your body allowed you to feel any shifts on the bed, preventing anyone from sitting or leaning on your bed as you slept without you being alerted of it. Hiding under it had a less practical motive. Like a child, you just felt better that way.

Never before had you thought so much about your own death. When you were younger, and first became aware of death, you had realized it meant that you would die one day too. It was a scary thought, but it wasn't one that would make you freeze in terror as it did now.

Would it hurt? Would he poison your food? Send a sellsword after you? You had been raised under the Faith of the Seven, but your belief in them was weak. You doubted the existence of the Seven Heavens or Seven Hells. Would it be like falling asleep? Perhaps it would hurt. And then nothing would come ever again. You would just cease to exist, to be.

You had worried so much about Otto Hightower that you had not thought of the other, more dangerous threat to your wellbeing. Prince Viserys' attack dog. Daemon Targaryen.

“I must say, I had not expected such a reaction.” Prince Daemon sets down the brush, smirking. “Have you never given a man a bath before?”

You wished you were wittier. That your tongue was as sharp and fast as his. But with fear clouding your senses, you could do little more than curtsy clumsily.

He knows. He knows. He knows. The words kept repeating on your mind, a constant litany of panic and urgency. Your heart was beating wildly inside his cage, so hard you felt it might break a few bones and jump out of your chest.

No one would protect you. Not even your mother, placed in an impossible position by her foolish daughter. Between her beloved Queen and the future King of Westeros, something would have to give. Because thanks to you, Prince Viserys' victory seemed more certain. Why else bring his brother, if not to deal with the threat?

They were supposed to be in the city to visit their father, the Lord Hand. You did not believe a word of that excuse. Never before had they visited Prince Baelor. The Lord Hand went to them, not the other way around.

Would anyone care if you were to disappear? You were so invisible, no one would miss you. You hadn't made many friends among the other servings girls. The Queen you served didn't notice you, nor did any of the other nobles. You only had your family.

“There must be a confusion.” You said, cautiously. You decided to keep your eyes fixed on the Prince's face. It was an unusual choice, you weren't supposed to gaze at nobles so directly. But you were not so foolish as to be in the same room as a predator and leave him unchecked. “I serve Queen Alyssane, my Prince. Only her. I am sure other…"

“I know.” He cut you off, before you could offer to find him another serving girl to help with his bath. You were desperate to get away from him, and it probably showed. "I complimented my grandmother's skin. She said the secret was your mother's baths."

That gave you pause. It made the fear recede a little. It was an odd question for a man, but Targaryens were known for their queer customs. Especially this one. It was perfectly plausible.

If they were trying to get information out of you, it would have been easier for Princess Aemma to call for you. After all, she could become your future lady, and probably was more interested in baths than Daemon Targaryen.

So. They didn't know, and Prince Daemon had a genuine interest in baths or he did know something, but not everything. If you played your cards right, you could still walk away unscathed.

“Then by all means, I shall fetch my mother!” You said, trying to gauge his reaction to your obvious attempt to get away.

The Prince's features shifted into a mask of pure rage before smoothing down into a strained smile. The change was so quick that if you had not been paying such close attention to his eyes, you would have missed the murderous glint in them, the way his smile showed way more teeth than necessary, how his fists clenched by his sides.

He knew. The Seven save you, Prince Daemon knew.

“I asked about that. She delegated the task to you.” He said, flatly. “Now hurry and help me undress.”

You stepped closer to him. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you not to. Your stomach dropped, the hairs of your arms stood up, you felt like you were about to throw up. But what other choice did you have?

The pact had not been meant for you to witness. You knew that. Foolishly, you had worried about Otto Hightower and Corlys Velaryon. You had thought about how they would find you, and how they would kill you.

The conspirators had been outside the Red Keep, so if they suspected a leak, they might go after the tavern's cashier or owner first. It was doubtful any of them recalled the other people in the shop with them that day. That was not how Prince Daemon must have found you. If it proved hard for the men present, for him it would have been impossible.

How could a man be aware of a conversation that had happened a month before, thousands of miles away? No. He hadn't found out that way, or he wouldn't need you. They would already know who was threatening them.

With shaky hands, you unbuttoned and took off his jerkin. Prince Daemon was slightly tanned, as a result of all the time he must spend outdoors. You had heard that since claiming his dragon, not a day passed without him riding the blood wyrm. You also knew, by the sword on his belt and the muscles in his back, that he must train quite a bit.

Your eyes must linger a second more than it is proper because Prince Daemon laughs.

“Never seen a naked man before?”

“No, my Prince.” You swallow, mouth a bit dry. You are unsure if it is because you are getting an eyeful of a handsome man, or because of how worried you are.

You shouldn't have sent that note. Oh, the note. That was what would truly doom you. Deciding to send it to Dragonstone had been a gamble. You thought sending it directly to where Princess Aemma was would be quicker than trying to convince the Lord Hand.

Time was of the essence, after all. Nobles often announced their pregnancies around the three or four moon mark, considering it was more unlikely for the babe to die after that date. If the Princess knew of her pregnancy, it meant she had not bled for over a moon. For the conspirators to find out, more time had to have passed. Mellos would have to act quickly to fit into the timeframe.

“Don't worry.” Prince Daemon stepped away from you, a salacious grin on his face. “I will make your first time good for you, too.”

And looking you directly in the eyes, he yanked his breeches down.

“What are you?” You asked, trying to save face. You pointedly did not look down. “One and ten?”

Daemon tutted.

“Mouthy little thing, aren't you?”

You paled. In truth, you had not really thought that through. You shouldn't have mouthed back to a Prince, regardless of what he was doing to you. Much less, if he knew what you had done.

You had not been so foolish as to sign the note, but it still had your handwriting. It could easily betray your identity, especially considering that the fact that the Princess was at Dragonstone was not common knowledge to every commoner.

Could they tell that? That you were a commoner, just for the way you wrote? It had worried you at the time, but you had not expected them to narrow it down enough to actually come after you.

“I apologize, my Prince.” You lowered your eyes, before coming right to face with his… You quickly looked up.

“I don't mind it. I like my girls with a bit of a bite.” He leered. “Much nicer to split them open on your cock when they are likely to yowl and hiss like cats in heat.”

Your cheeks burned. You fought the urge to fled the room.

“I am eight and ten, to answer your question.” Prince Daemon kept going, as if nothing had happened. “What of you?”

You mumbled your age, and kneeled, holding the brush.

“Good, aren't you eager?” He laughed. You ignored him and started to brush from his feet towards his chest. The roughness of the brush startled him, and you felt a sense of dark vindication. “Oh… That's…"

You didn't let him finish, starting to brush his calves from behind, roughly. So what if you were taking your frustrations on him? Near a moon had passed without news, and with you living in anguish.

No one had talked about Princess Aemma, not to announce a loss or a pregnancy. You went on with your duties, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Your previously gorgeous hair started falling out in clumps, and no tincture from your mother's journal could fix it. You could not stop thinking of Princess Aemma.

She was in your thoughts when you brushed the Queen's hair. Would she wear the crown next? You thought of her every time you saw a pregnant woman. Did the babe survive? Would she be your lady? If she were, would you be able to swallow this secret, keep it down?

“Is this necessary?” Prince Daemon asked, with a wince, when your brush approached his rear. It was very shapely, so you rubbed harder to vanish the thought from your mind.

“It is part of the Queen's bath.” You mumbled, thinking of how as soon as you scrubbed him raw, you were placing him in the bath and running away.

You did not get to do that. Prince Daemon, instead of eight and ten, acted five. He asked for you to wash his hair and rub his back, and overall made a nuisance out of himself. Not once did he ask about the note or your thoughts on succession. Instead, he made inane chatter and poorly hidden innuendos.

When you finished bathing him, you were convinced he was the most hellish man you had ever met. But you were also convinced that he was harmless.

How wrong you were.

The first thing you became aware of was a pounding headache. Your scalp hurt, and when you tried lifting your hands to check on it, you realized that they were tied to something.

Your limbs felt numb. Panic threatened to drown you once more, but you fought the initial waves and forced yourself to be calm. This was what you had been waiting for. If you wanted to live, you had to play it smart.

You lifted your eyelids, barely enough for you to see through a blurred sliver. The world around you was tinted red, and your eyelashes felt stuck together. You could see your legs, extended on the floor. You were sitting somewhere.

Softly, you tugged at your restraints. Your arms were tied behind you, but around something solid. A tree trunk? A bedpost?

You could not remember what had happened or how you had gotten here. Under you, there was something soft. A rug. So this was inside somewhere. You opened your eyes a bit more, hoping to catch a glimpse of the world around you, but cautious to do so in case you were being watched.

“You are awake.” A woman’s voice said. Her hand, soft and dainty, grabbed your chin in a bruising grip. “Good.”

Princess Aemma was crouching in front of you, a look of pure rage in her eyes.

“You will tell me who dared hurt my child. Or else.”

You blinked, stupidly. She was not who you had been expecting. Freshly wounded and surprised, you clearly took a second too long to answer because Princess Aemma slapped you. Hard.

Your vision darkened. You let out a ragged pant. This was… Not ideal. You had no idea of what was going on, or how she had known. Was it wise to speak?

“Who was it? Who ordered it?”

You whimpered. Could Princess Aemma protect you from Otto Hightower? His reach could be further than you thought. But even if she could, it would be picking a side. With the succession issue still unsolved, it felt unwise to do so.

Aemma could be the future Queen, yes. But so could Princess Rhaenys. And she would not want you then, if she knew you had passed information along to her rivals.

What would you do, then? Where would you find employment? Being a handmaiden to Targaryen women was all you knew how to do. Horrible images of ending up cleaning toilets or, the Seven forbid, in a pleasure house crossed your mind.

And that was if Princess Aemma allowed you to live. Perhaps she would think you too much of a burden or a part of the plot to hurt her, and just… Dispose of you. She had enough gold to hire an assassin or acquire poison, if she didn't do it with her bare hands. By the look in Aemma's face, she was very close to becoming a murderer.

You shook your head, near tears.

“Tell me.” Aemma insisted, her grip turning cruel. She raised her hand to strike again.

You shook your head again.

“Aemma?” Someone else spoke. It was a male’s voice, this time. You jerked upwards. Aemma's hand stilled. “I brought Daemon.”

Prince Viserys and Prince Daemon stepped inside the chamber that you were in. You felt like you were about to throw up. Exactly how many royals were keeping you captive?

Prince Daemon gave you a wave. He was sporting a smug smile that made you want to strangle him.

“We meet again.”

You glared. Aemma struck you again. The pain barely registered. You felt as if your head was too heavy for your body. It lolled to the side. A sudden wave of nausea prevented you from rightening it.

“Do not dare look at my good brother or husband, you whore.” She grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at her. “You either talk, or I will throw you in the cells. And when I find out who murdered my child, you will die alongside them.”

“My love, we shouldn't…” Prince Viserys swallowed, nervously.

“Shut up, Viserys!” Princess Aemma shrieked and the Prince cowered. This was the man King Jaehaerys wanted as his heir? Maybe Queen Alyssane and Otto Hightower were onto something. The thought registered as hilarious in your mind's scrambled condition, so you laughed.

Aemma turned towards you, outraged, but someone else's laughter stopped her dead in her tracks. Both of you turned, searching for the source of the sound.

Prince Daemon was laughing, eyes crinkling in the corners. He looked, much to your disgust, even more handsome.

“What?” He asked the Princess, between chuckles. “It was funny.”

“It was not.” Aemma scowled. She raised her hand again. “You little bitch! What did I tell you about looking at my…?”

“I think not.” Daemon intercepted her hand, holding her away. You sighed. You weren't stupid enough to think he was protecting you. No, he was just going to speed things along.

Daemon was one of the few people you had met that deserved their reputations. Dashing and a good warrior, yes. But also mercurial and quick to anger.

“Speak. Or I will make you speak myself. I assure you, you won't enjoy it." His hand brushed the blood away from your face, almost tenderly. You flinched. There was something about his touch that made your skin crawl. Gone was the young man from earlier, all playful smiles and banter. Instead, only a cold mask remained. His words lacked embellishments or thinly veiled threats. Daemon was not bluffing. “You won't die. Not for a long time. I will make sure that whoever poisoned Aemma knows it was you who spoke. And they can kill you.”

They. He would make sure they. The words were spoken like a promise, almost an oath. The Prince was completely serious.

Being left to the mercy of Otto Hightower was not something you wished for. And between the two of them, you knew who you feared more. You could always take a ship to Essos and find employment there if things went awry. But for that, you had to survive.

You whimpered. Aemma's fingers dug into your shoulders.

“Names.” She spoke, voice filled with contempt.

“Hightower! Ser Otto! And a Mellos! Corlys Velaryon was there, but he did not know.”

Prince Daemon and Prince Viserys exchanged a look. Prince Daemon crouched behind you, while Prince Viserys helped Princess Aemma stand.

“Good, little bird.” Daemon untied your wrists. You kept very still regardless. “Do you know what comes next?”

You shook your head. What else could they want from you?

“You will sing just as prettily during the trial.” He ordered, forcing you to your feet. Princess Aemma beamed at him. Prince Viserys looked thoughtful. “For all court to hear.”

Your stomach sank. It was a death sentence. A commoner, standing against Otto Hightower? You would not even make it to the stand. He was a powerful man, with powerful friends. But even if you did, you doubted King Jaehaerys would listen to you. You were one woman against the most important men of the realm.

And Queen Alyssane! Oh, Queen Alyssane would be so disappointed. She would no longer want your mother and you in her service, if she didn't decide first that you were part of the plot and ordered your death for harming her family. Or even worse, the Queen could be part of the plot herself and be offended by your meddling.

“No, please! Please, please. They will kill me.” You begged. “Please, Your Grace, let me go.”

Prince Daemon smirked. Princess Aemma’s face twisted into a vengeful expression. They both were pleased by the possibility of your death. You resigned yourself to it, silently starting to cry.

And then, the unexpected.

“She is right, Daemon. You can't ask her to stand against them, she will be dead before nightfall.” Prince Viserys spoke, timidly. The other, more violent two, halted.

You could have kissed him. You could have proclaimed him King yourself.

“Then what?” Prince Daemon frowned.

“We will have the trial. You keep her until then.” Viserys ordered. Princess Aemma huffed, and exited the room, slamming the door on her way out. She clearly disagreed, but not enough to do something about it.

You were left alone with Viserys and Daemon. You eyed them warily. No good deed went unpunished, did it? You had wanted to save a babe, and not only had you failed, but you had been thrown into a pit full of dangerous beasts, ready to swallow you whole. And by the look on Prince Daemon's eyes, the dragons were the worst of them.

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