#About Crimson Publishers

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment. 

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze. 

 König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others. 

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!” 

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect. 

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up. 

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child. 

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru. 

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes. 

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest. 

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!” 

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away. 

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!”  König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture. 

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you,  König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you. 

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt. 

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny. 

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone. 

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge. 

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.” 

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction. 

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl. 

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance. 

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.” 

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!” 

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience. 

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done. 

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling. 

Evolve, or die. 

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later. 

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.” 

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants. 

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA. 

The Lieutenant is one of them. 

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead. 

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t. 

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact. 

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself. 

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins. 

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.  

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was. 

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding. 

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed. 

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes. 

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide. 

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady. 

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire. 

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock. 

Your finger slams into the trigger. 

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself. 

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König. 

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary. 

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch. 

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later. 

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure. 

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König. 

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone. 

Anyone but you, that is. 

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter. 

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced. 

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down. 

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm. 

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?” 

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment. 

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour. 

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you. 

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence. 

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up. 

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh. 

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest. 

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.” 

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given. 

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly. 

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.” 

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?” 

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

 König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?” 

He freezes, muscles going taunt. 

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?” 

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away. 

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate. 

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit. 

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over. 

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side. 

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air. 

König kneeled to you and bared himself. 

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this. 

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood. 

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug. 

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning. 

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he. 

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame. 

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears. 

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him. 

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat. 

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English. 

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril. 

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust. 

You find none. 

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening. 

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words. 

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize. 

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized. 

For you to come back to him. His partner. 

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths. 

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

NEW TAGLIST SIGN-UP: Here

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n

#cod konig #konig modern warfare #konig x reader #konig #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #konig fic #konig cod #konig mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #x fem!reader #x female reader #cod x female reader #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #cod könig #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #modern warfare x you #modern warfare x reader

[bangtanshelves]

JJK Fanfic Recos

Hi. These are some of the fanfics I've read.

I've read A LOT but I'll only be including the ones I really enjoyed reading.

I'm in the process of recollecting them, please bare with me.

I'm also updating this post often, so whenever I end finishing a fic I like I just post it here. hehe

💓 - Fluff ❤‍🩹 - angst 🥵 - smut 🚨 - violence/drugs 🤪 - crack ⭐ - fav 🎣 - latest addition to the list

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. SERIES ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

My Love is Here - @/solemnreads

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (so much angst, I love it), 🥵 summary: "You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened."

Knife's Edge - @/readyplayerhobi

Completed ✅

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵, 🚨 The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

Four Seven Eight - @/jiminrings

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (fic made me cry) ,🥵 you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

Close to you - @/muniimyg

Completed ✅ ⭐

genre: 💓, 🤪 It should've been easier than this, right?In which oc and Jungkook sleep together and he can't get over it.

Falling Skies - @/fortunexkookie

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. Once upon a time, she had called you her sun and him her moon; it was fitting, given the constant push-and-pull between you two. You used to consider him a friend, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Please Love Me - @/ahunderedtimesover

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

Lowkey - @/xpeachesncream

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 In order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, Jeon Jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the way of dating.

Hotter Than Hell - @/chateautae

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Jungkook, Lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he's unsure of. Embarking on his journey for the answers should've been easy, if it weren't for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. Kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover Lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and Jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

An Ode to a Broken Heart - @/smoochkooks

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (bro I've been crying over this fic for days), 🥵 (future smut)  you’ve watched jeon jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. now it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. however, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

Mutual Help - @/personasintro

Ongoing... ✍ (this is also posted on AO3)

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 (damn... that's all i can say)  in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

Way Back Home - @/solemnreads

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (please i really love angsty fics, fite me), 🥵

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is" he asks you with tears in his eyes. You look down at the sight of your son with an oxygen mask on his face while your daughter is sleeping on the couch near the wall. You look into his eyes, broken, and sad. You've dreamt of this day for years, wondering how he would react. But here you are, hoping he could've meet the twins under different circumstances. "Yes... they're your children."

Strawberry Kisses - @/pixieknj

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 (Chapter 1 has been posted, but its something else) Jungkook is notoriously known as a f^ckboy who doesn’t eat p^ssy, until he finally gets alone with you…

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. ONE-SHOTS or TWO-SHOTS ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

The Right Choice - @/honeytae

Genre: 💓 for as long as you've known Jungkook, you would think that you're witnessed all sides of him. But when you notice the way he's looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

Rainy Days - @/rklve

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Your life choices left not only yours, but Jungkook's hear broken in pieces. Now you're back in town, and just like Pluto, even if its cold and dark he tends to orbit around his sun forever.

High Demand - @/bunnyhugs77

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🚨 A modern day Romeo and Juliet

SOJU - @/hoseoksluna

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

Lost & Found - @/kooktrash

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (if you squint), 🥵 your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

Bottle Up Old Love - @/wintaerbaer

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

Pink Sapphire - @/jiminrings ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹(please I'm a sucker for this) ,🥵 Having Jungkook as a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. Your relationship's perhaps become so easy that Jungkook doesn't think sometimes— and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

Will it fit? - @/jeonsweetpea

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🤪, ❤‍🩹 (just a little bit) So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can't exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom...

Break up with your Boyfriend - @/spideyjimin

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook, the campus fuckboy, has decided to make you his next victim, but you're far from being like any of his previous hookups. You're not single. You're actually in a very long-term relationship with Baekhyun, the man you consider the love of you life, but it's for sure something that won't stop Jungkook. He wants you, and he's going to do absolutely everything to have you, even falling in love.

Paint me naked - @/gimmethatagustd

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he's not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

I hate you, I love you - @j/ungblue 🎣

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends... and you're absolutely in love with him; he's in love too—just not with you.

How to Get a Guy - @/taeshobipop 🎣

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He's loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you're absolutely bizarre. But there's a silver lining— Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he'll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungook can continue persuing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn't want to tbe the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?

#jjk x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine

[astralnymphh]

SEXROT 𖤐 | ellie williams

☠︎︎࿐-ˊˎ jackson!ellie x fem!reader

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: second fic ever published, it took sm longer but has more focus on the smut part of it. maybe the epilogue is a bit more casually written but its whatevs y'all def just here for the smut anyway. but(t) i hope u enjoy!! cause i sure did!! various times.

cw/tags: NSFW 18+ MDNI, smoking weed, getting high, friends to lovers, flirting, killing infected, guns, knives, blood description, replaces the jackson patrol scenario, spitting, dom leaning ellie, fingering (receiving, vaginal) clit stim (receiving and giving-ish) strap penetration (receiving, vaginal) oral (receiving) petnames (babe,baby,babygirl,princess) almost caught naked tewgether 😈(not in the act)

WC: 6.6k+

designated song: anesthesia- type o negative

synopsis: you have resided in jackson for about six months solo in a humble cabin only a stroll away from the lively community plaza. ellie introduced herself to you two months ago on the full lunar night of a bonfire and have proved inseparable ever since. both of you had a couple things in common upholding your friendship but lots of new experiences arise from beneath those shared interests. one day, you and ellie embark on the scheduled patrol for that afternoon, plowing through scattered clusters of infected inhabiting dilapidated buildings lost in the past. presently, after trudging the pearly snow and eluding the raging snowstorm, tucking both of you into a lone library sitting amongst those very buildings, brimmed with a 'herby' mystery.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Your uneasy fingers grasp the rustic steel door handle, deprived of the haven sourced on the summit of your horse's saddle minutes prior to entering this enigma of a building. Not a soul has settled within these walls for a considerable stretch of time and it shows, dust cloaking the floor, a void pooling in various corners of each room, the stuffy and still air clogging your senses and peculiar noises erupting from either your mind or physical reality. You roll the knob and push the loose door open, hinges creaking untimely with the lingering presence of a clicker revealing itself with the infamous croaks emitting from its fungal body.

Ellie is close behind, poised over your crouched shoulder with hawk pupils scanning the room you've just discovered. Her hand nudges you and deviates your focus from the room, honing on what she was mouthing in empty words.

"Watch my back, I'm gonna sneak up on it." 

You nod subtly in accordance, flattening your back against the icy door to make a path for her.

Ellie extends her gloved hand out on the doorways trim, shuffling on crouched legs past you and into the pigsty of an office, steadily approaching the mindless croaking clicker.

Your fingers seize the pistol sheathed in its thigh holster, provoking the trigger with dual fingers ready to fire a round right in the clickers noggin if need arises. The creaky chatter cracking from the fungoid continues as Ellie creeps upon its obliviousness, pouncing timely and capturing it in headlock as she fluidly jabs her switchblade into its rigid neck, spewing crimson blood outwards that painted her sleeve quite disgustingly.

"Uck," she conveys, face contorted with sourness.

Stillness remains until the coast proves clear, giving you a chance to address, "All good, no more infected." 

"Well, it's about fucking time!" she heaves the figurative indent of edge from her tense chest, flicking off strings of blood from her winter sweater.  "Think this doors' unlocked?" She queries herself prior to twiddling with the rattling door knob of a possible exit.

Your wandering eyes uncover the roughly concealed red and grey steel box, internalizing instantly that it was a generator, "Hey, 'Williams', there's a generator." you make known to Ellie, who's not even facing it.

She turns around, "Where there's a generator, there's a hideout. We could use the supplies, so.." she sauntered over to the generator, folding her knuckles around the pull-tab, "Hope they don't mind us borrowing- also, don't call me by my last name!" 

You snort a genuine laugh and ogle the way Ellie cranks the cord, arm so stable and fierce. You felt like a bumbling idiot for admiring her mere movements, but something under the skin pined for her in a way unfathomable at first glint. Her cinnamon dotted cheeks, badass scar slanting in her brow, fluorescent fauna irises, button nose and the sheer nerd that she was really spun the tide coalescing within your tenuous heart. On the other hand, her mannerisms, thrumming husky voice and attitude frets the knot in your pelvis beyond a fixing point you can't manage alone.

"C'mon, lights are on in here." Her voice snuffs the ramblings clogging your brain, grasping your attention towards the door swinging open just now.

You stare into her pupils barreling into you, now twisting a impishly curious visage.

"What'chu thinking about?" 

Your eyes flicker, "Nothing." A clod draws from your tense gullet, gulping the trance that bewitched your susceptible mind.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing'." She prys with a low gravelly tone, waddling languidly towards you.

"Nothing." You pursue vaguely, dusting past Ellie in a swift pace.

She just gawks at you, thin grooves in-between her knitted brows while she swung her head round to trail her eyes after you. Admittedly, she entertained the stray thoughts of you mutually, as the living recreations of you are sunken into her journals pages habitually. Her wrist recalls every arch and convex of your face, fingers honor the sway of your eye shape, subconscious retains the wisping of your baby hairs and consciously, Ellie just knows you as 'cute girl'. That very title is etched under the whole lot of depictions reaping your glamor throughout her journal.

"You think Eugene used this place too? I mean, all this electrical shit, nobody'd tinker with it except him." She infers, reverting to the eased doorway you just proceeded through.

Your void mind instantly heeds the flurry of wired veins branched across the next room. Your eyes trace the river of cords until it vanishes between the wall and a peculiar bookcase. Illumination pummels through the frayed wood planks backing it, luring your mind towards this enigma.

"Yo, check this out." You hoist an observation aloud, Ellie's umber auburn head whirls to peek at your discovery.

"What the fuck?" An airy chuckle grates from her throat in awe, peachy lips ajar and nooks of her mouth flexing into a smirk.

You lend your weight upon this bookcase, plateauing to drive the colossal bookshelf from where it's planted. "Ugh, a little help?"

Ellie giggles at your measly endeavor to motivate the shelf, that dumb wide crescent grin bearing upon her spread lips, "Got no muscles or something?" she quips.

"Shut up!"

She caves in and assists you regardless, moseying around and towering over you, casting a dark specter across your body. It was a casual stance, but quivers your beating core nonetheless. The noise of scratches indenting underneath the hefty bookcase as it drags screeches in your hollow eardrums.

"There." Ellie claims hoarsely, whooshing her breath against your bare neck and scoring numerous hairs to plumb from your skin.

Shaking it off, you embark through the threshold, eyes tunneling upon a downward staircase beckoning you to traverse to its descendant level.

"Tch, did Eugene own a sex dungeon?" Ellie immaturely cracks, scurrying down the steps faster than a dog could.

"I hope. That dude was lonely." You jest back in emphasis, earning a gust of laughter past Ellie's lips.

"Think we'll find scary whips and chains in there?"

"Oh my god, Els! I don't think he was into that kinda stuff." You hop a step, springing upon her and jabbing your stiff knuckles into her unalerted shoulder blades playfully.

"Ouch! It was only a theory." her voice curves in defense, sowing her feet flat after the last tread of stairs. 

You tumble your eyes accompanied by a sigh, beating her to the door and pushing it open to a sight your noses realistically should have detected a floor above. Least of all ambrosial, the fetid source birthed from a garden of weed, some potted, some dangling, lots cascading over the steel tables, essentially, a fuck ton of herb.

"Unholy shit!" You expound with starstruck pupils, molting away the playful exterior you harbored just moments ago and cast an astonished visage.

"Did he grow.. all of this?" Ellie doesn't grapple with the notion of it right away, but soon materializes it in her cranium and wanders over to a pot of the dried sage green herbage.

"Must've taken ages.." you pondered, plucking a brittle leaf off its hunched stem, chafing it to ash between the pads of your glove-clad digits, "And a day.." you slyly add in regards to the weeds dehydrated state.

Ellie stupidly grins in reaction to your joke, baring teeth and all. She strides past arrays of trays, rustling the herbs strung up to the ceiling. Her eyes land upon an obscure shape, alluring her to inspect the properties of this object. She erupts, "It's a gas mask bong." cradling the mask in her hands, infatuated by its genius design.

"In what situation would you even use that?" you doubt it's anything more than plain goofy.

"Emergency relief?"

"Of course you'd know how."

"Hey, I don't smoke that often!" she wards in a pitched tone, scoffing at your mere belittling.

You reel back into a searching mode, lurking among the next isle of weed till a glass jar of blunts enlightens you. "Ellie, there's a jar of this shit!" 

"Oh for real?" she trots hastily to your region, bearing a vivacious fever at the sight beholding a for real container of rolled blunts.

"Think it's fresh?"

Ellie hums an 'I dunno', cusping the jar from your hands and wrenching the lid with all her might, not budging at all. It takes her a blur of tries, observing the way her thick brows purse together and summon those vertical grooves in her forehead, an attractive sight to you.

"You need help?" you mock her, unzipping and unsheathing your arms out of the slim fitted sleeves fashioning your winter jacket.

"No, I got it." Ellie assures with a cluster of uncertainty smothering her strained voice. She had to practically arch over and bound the jar to her abdomen for faltering pressure.

"Gimme that." you snatch the glass from her dense grip, garnering a doubtful sneer skipping her lips.

"Like you'll get it." 

"You shouldn't be talking." you dart a wink.

Ellie flits a smug middle finger like the immature fiend she is, peeling the green jacket layering her pewter grey hoodie off. She tosses it astray to the ground, lurking towards a convenient couch and relaxing her butt against the nook of its armrest.

The lid refuses to subdue to your firm grip, feebly slipping and searing an exasperated groan gritting your teeth. Your instincts flash and wills an arm up to hurl the jar harshly against the stone ground, pulverizing the glass into countless shards.

"What, the fuck, is wrong with you?" Ellie halts at every syllable, gesturing with her palms like a shield to the jagged fragments.

"A lot."

Ellie gives a judgey once-over at your unbothered demeanor, hiking off the couch and crouching down to cautiously pinch a freed blunt from the debris, feathering the dust off and indulging a whiff held to her nostrils, "Smells good." she asserts, hoisting up and offering the joint to you.

"We' taking a detour?" you metaphorize, rotating the blunt like a wheel between your fingertips.

"We're trapped." Ellie educed a reminder wary of the billowing snowstorm that proved risky to tread earlier.

"Totally trapped." 

You both take harbor on the buffered sofa, bodies naturally vis-à-vis, a sheer four feet apart. Flicking the lighter cap open, plucking the tab and igniting the pocket flame whilst keeping your keen eyes on Ellies, who's piercing the windows to your soul with those juniper rings.

Ellie studies your face brazenly, locked on your profile as you kindle the blunt casually, lodging it between your lips to inhale a drag. Her optics tear an awkward barrier in the vacant space between you, now bidding a tension on the horizon. This makes you feel, seen, read like a poem, one that Ellie read often, and adored endlessly. Weed scorches the walls of your throat, eliciting a cough to spasm from your tight chest.

"Gah- fuck!" The spasmodic fit weaves through your distress, extended arm begging for Ellie to nab the source of your rasp from your jolting hand.

She snickers in belittlement at your expense, that dorky toothful smile crooking her rosy lips, "First time?"

"No."

"Liar." 

"You'll never know." 

Ellie's grin broadens prior to catering the blunt to her lips, pursing around the tip to drain a puff into her barren lungs. You take a gander at this sight, melting in the dimensional image of her woody auburn hair veiling a halo around her hung head, perking up to huff a thick smog enveloping you.

"What happened- last night, at the dance?" 

"You mean, with Dina?" she passes the blunt back, fingertips mingling a moment.

A hesitant drag soothes your lips, "Yeah, if you're uh- fine telling." Luckily, a cough doesn't plague you.

Ellie's cheeks lift a smirk, "It was a.. wild night. Dina.. kissed me and then Seth went bigot mode and said a not-so-nice word."

"Oh, shit." your brows rear and carve horizontal creases to your forehead, "You good?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just.. on edge. This helps though." she beams, nicking the smoldering blunt from you.

You couldn't divulge if she referred to you or the weed being her beacon of ease, but you dust off the thought. "So, you and Dina?" you inquire in a flirty mimic.

"N- it's.. just a kiss. She was drunk, I'm not gonna look into it- it doesn't mean anything." she stutters in a flustered haze.

Drawing some smoke in, then puffing it out, a smile invites itself on her pooling red midface and hijacks your attention.

"Why' you blushing then?"

"I'm not fuckin- fuck." Ellie's embarrassment stinges the sight of her smile as she flicks her head away, a cute sight to you that warrants your rising feelings at this moment.

"I think it's more than a kissss~" your tone curls playfully, nagging at Ellie's rattled state.

"You're on thin ice."

"A crimes' been committed, someone stole your heart!"

"I will come over there and fight you, no joke!" 

"Ellie's got a girl-" 

Out of the void, she has you pinned by the wrists under her clammy palm, sinking into the padded seat beneath you, auburn bang drooping like a pendulum over your face with the barely existing space between your faces. Senses plagued from the way gravity lashed out of you and hallucinogens deceived you, burrowing and growing like mold in the foggy vale of your skull.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Ellie utters through a sluggish jaw. "yet."

Your mind makes out an elusive meaning to her words, "You don't like Dina.."

Her lips calcify ajar, hot breath seeping into your buzzing skin, "It's someone else."

"Me?"

Her eyes waver, but strike up, "Yeah." she admits in a soft chuckle, wedging her thigh between your shut ones cunningly. You swear her pupils dilate like a supermoon.

A euphoric orb rings inside of your essence, thickening your veins and coating a cloak of boiling heat over your swelling hips wailing for a fucking when her voice brims your ears. This weed has really got your mind and panties in a pleasant twist. The confirmation of her liking- love? Maybe it's too soon, but it sure confirms your hidden suspicions.

"I think we needa get back to your place." Your words weigh heavy with intention.

"Fuck yeah we do." Ellie aligns with your suggestion, gnawing her tender lips with intention as well.

You both hustle off the tearing couch now tinted with a lustful sweat, not paying an ounce to sliding a coat on or gloves prior to, but not without pilfering some lone blunts scattered upon the floor, mounting your horse and galloping off.

☆

The warmth of Ellie's garage-shed-home drinks you up graciously, biting back the bone-chilling skull-screaming fever of the merciless ice age outdoors. The locked door affirms you won't be bothered, so your nerves settle and excitement brews deep in you. A new heat bonds with your body physically, Ellie embracing you cordially and her face dominates your vision.

"We're here." Her husky voice streams pleasantly, "What now?" 

A chill races your spine, replying in a stutter, "L-let's do this on your bed." You heave out with desire, digging your nails into her hoodie-clad back.

Ellie descends slightly to tuck her hands under your knees, buckling you around her hips snug and lodging her crotch against your heat, the rivet of her jeans poking the valley of your clothed cunt, earning a choked whimper bearing pleasure. The ensuing moment, you're cast onto the cottony bed with Ellie crawling over you, latching her plump lips on your bare neck and peppering your neck with prompt and sloppy nibbles.

"You want this? Cus' I really want this~" her words muffle in the crook of your jaw. "But d'you?" she intoned against your ardent skin, hips bucking and rolling the lump of her denim into your clit, causing you to bear down and grind back in chase of those lovely whits of ecstasy.

"I want it.. so bad.." the tension piling since the couch at last reprieves through every respite and roll of her hips.

Bodies chafing together at Ellie's intended friction, more importantly, knee now rutting against your aching clit stirs a kugelblitz in the cavern of your pelvis. Ellie peeks her face over yours, tucking the apex of her nose aside before rolling her lips on yours with passion, smacking sounds filling your headspace.

"I've liked you for so long, yknow?" Ellie affirms on your lips, "I wanted you for so long."

The pure carnal burn tickles your skin, bubbling a sinful image behind your eyes and mouth ardent to bite down on her bottom lip in hunger.

"Fuck, babe-" Ellie breaks the kiss briefly to utter, dazed vision, via her arousal, tunneling into yours with wide pupils.

You grin, prying your thumb between your teeth in a way that appeals to her. A hand traverses your body and toys with the hem of your shirt before lurking under and grasping your bra-clad breast fondly.

"Ahh~" your voice creaks when her thumb shimmies under the bra and plays with your fervent buds.

"Like that?" Ellie's tone dwells with honeyed lust, so sweet yet so intoxicating.

Lips polarize together and spark a continuous blossom of arousal, soaking the panties and coating a flim on the denim in a portal shape. Bound by a sluggish spell, your limp arm snakes over your torso, fingertips stroking Ellie's forearm and folding under the rim of your shirt to pull it off, exposing bare skin lush with blemishes and scars, trailing along with your jeans almost torn off in a rush.

"Damn." Ellie's airy chuckle riffs in your head, prefacing a long flirty whistle.

"Stop.." A blush bruises your midface, darting away from her intense stare that crowds you with a shy rotation of your head.

"Hey, look at me." Her fingers forcep your chin, reeling your head back to drown in her sights like a gentle whisper of adoration, "I wanna make you feel good.." her words cruise in a promising melody.

That very declaration screws your core in delightful ways, waxing a breaking sweat over your already humid exterior, interior when it refers to something else.

A notion murmurs akin to a soft hollow echo betwixt your temples, ushering your body to motion. Your hands spring to clasp her unaware wrists, tussling her over and straddling her hips.

"Woah, okay. This works." Her lips spread to an exalted smile, palms perched on your thighs and digits prodding the viscose skin wrapping the crests of your hips, reading every stretch mark with her finger pads which adorns a satisfied beam to her eyes.

A slew of exhilaration crashes against the walls of your body, grinding that clothed sensitive bud on the ridge of her zipper fly, biting back a riff of moans.

"Lemme hear you." Her hand scales your body, thumb inching past your lips and hooking over your teeth, beckoning it ajar.

"Fuhhhck.." You thrill her with a droning groan, stirring your eager tongue around her thumb and suctioning a kiss around her knuckle as it adjusts beyond your teeth.

"Suck, babygirl." 

Obeying her word, your lips bolt around the root of her thumb, siphoning it further inwards on the plateau of your tongue and casting dozy sex eyes upon her.

"Good girl," Ellie's finger skims out from your teeth, leaving a trail of saliva down your chin.

Your hips wallow over the hill of her bunching jeans, feeling a finger embed and press up onto your clit, damping the tip of her willowy digit thinly and hollowing out a clamor of moans.

"I gotcha this wet?" A brazen smirk glamours her lower face, rousing her own elation with a weighted chafe of her thighs, "Fuck, baby."

A figment of her voice remains like a chant in your smothered mind, calling your eyes to shut and live in every sting of pleasure stimulating you.

"Hmnnn.. mmm~" you purr, unfathomable bliss influencing your actions with every roll of your bud.

"Can I take these off?" her fingertips peruse your pantyline, to which you nod, pleating them down your hips gently once you've granted the okay signal.

Your panties eventually get hurled somewhere in her room, probably dangling from the edge of her TV screens' rim or now invited to the pile of her own laundry, nonetheless, she honed in on your now stripped slit, spreading your legs with her own shuffling first, displaying your bareness split across her open thighs.

"Watch my fingers."

So you do, focused on her gliding hand grazing your thigh in an unhurried manner, coaxing the crevice melding your thigh and crotch before they split and part your folds. She gives you a once-over before dipping into your drenched core, sucking her fingers up like it knew her touch. Her fingers inside prove warm and filling, sliding through your clenched walls with ease and in return rewards you with a drunken and drowsy gaze from her seductive greenhouse glow eyes.

“You take me in so well, shit-” Ellie’s humid mutter seeps into the swirling skin of your temple, close proximity with her heaving chest and the aroma of her natural scent coating the chamber of your skull deeply.

Her skins aflame with an amber luminance and dampening, reeking of carnal ache through her sullied hoodie, so you slur out, “I wann-feel your skin’n mine..” you clutch on the band of her hoodie, knuckles prodding her firm abdomen.

"Fingers not enough?" Ellie's hoarse yet silky voice coos, fingers sliding from your sopping wet cunt and slick glazing her svelte digits beautifully.

"I need all of you." You lean and overshadow her stationary body, hastily pulling her hoodie over her head and ruffling her hair a smidge.

"Mhm, baby?" Ellie reposes her benign palms to your hips, fingernails indenting the plush skin of your ass and inscribing a reddened row of scratches, a daring idea lighting inside her head, "y'wanna sit on my face, pretty girl?" her husky tone thickens.

An answer spurns from your agape lips, instead winding your body to heed her suggestion and climb upwards towards her face, observing the way she bites her pink lips at the sight of your eagerness before your stature projects over her and offers a pleasing sight to her sex-swollen mind.

Your avidness turns her on, admittedly, "Fuck, babe- gonna clean y'up good, okay?"

Her greedy digits resume through your ocean-soaked folds, splitting them apart and sinking three fingers in, fiending for the profound warmth your core provides. They dip in nicely, entrance molding to the shape of her fingers, absorbing every intent feeling her curving knuckles elicit in your throbbing walls and the celestial heavens wash over you.

"Fuck me- oh god.."

"That's what I'm doing.." Ellie sneaks in a playful joke, a crook slanted smile smoothing her lips for a mere moment before swiping it away with her tongue 'wetting the whistle'. Her hunger lives for your taste, colliding timely with your clit and suckling the bud into her pressed lips, simultaneously pumping her fingers into your leaking pussy and forcing a spiking yelp from your unlatched mouth.

"Mmm, Ellie.." you whine, gripping on her already disheveled locks instinctively.

She doesn't reply, too focused on rolling the swelling bud with her nimble tongue flicking endlessly between your delicate folds. An arm buckles over your thigh, elbow adjacent to your hip crest and pinning you further against her deft lapping motions. Ellie knew what she was doing.

The curved fingers coaxing your g-spot sparingly is just enough stimulation to decay your functioning senses, "Els- El..Ellie.." you wail breathless, her tongue prying at the hood of your clit lovingly whilst suctioning inwards sends shockwaves down your legs and into your feet.

Ellie parts from your core, smeared with your slick gleaming down her chin. She sucks in the wetness dripping from her lips, "Tastes so good, babe- mm, so fuckin' hot." she steeps her vision in the perspective of your body elongated before her, eyeing like a precious gem.

You melt in the quickened pace of her fingers inside you, knuckles deep and brimming with arousal overflowing at the base of her fingers. The intense thrusting of your sobbing pussy ejects a melodious line of moans, "Fuuuuck…" masking the tantalizing noises of your heat slapping with Ellie's palm.

"Cum, babygirl, come on.." Her voice husks gravelly, deepening in your skull while numb-fucking you into oblivion with hawk eyes staring up at you.

Lubricous strings lash against your outer folds and inner thigh at each smack her hand endures, her tongue slurping up those juices pooling over your neglected clit adding an extra layer of lust incarnate ramming your walls to be released. Giving in, your nerves flare up and pulse around your opening, limbs tightening and clenching, especially around Ellie's lithe fingers, a sweet pleasure engrossing your entire essence with a rush of fluid spiraling down her knuckles.

"Good fuckin'- that's m'girl.." She growls inwardly against your stuffed cunt, thrumming from her chest igniting that attractive muffled voice she crowns.

You feel her fingers slip out, leaving a hollow sense rooting in your core. A suctioning sound comes from below you, noticing that Ellie had licked the taste of you from her pussy-drowned fingers. 

"God, Ellie.. where'd you learn that?" you huff out, still descending your head from the sun above.

"Experience." She discloses, not a fragment of bluffing behind those proud eyes, relishing in the way she drove you to boundless ecstasy. She announces, "I'm not done yet though." 

You inquire a bumbled facade until you hack her meaning just as she leverages you off her face with dual strong grips setting you to the side. Hoisting onto her knees, spinning 'round to rustle through her nightstand, equipped with a slightly beaten but sealed box once she faces you again.

"Fuck is that?" You ask with knitted brows, curving curiosity in your smirk.

"So, there was this sex store up in-"

"Ellie, is that a dildo?" you poke the box.

"Not- exactly no."

"Bitch, I'm gonna be getting a different kind of infection from that."

"It's sealed! The building was barely ruined or inhabited," She defends, gentle hands rubbing your folded knees. "I just wanna fuck you."

You bob your head languidly, bidding an unwarranted smile on your lips, "You did, though." 

"But I can do so much more.." Her face levitates towards yours, "If you want?" the corners of her mouth jerk, upholding that memorable smile, dimples, nasal lines and all.

"Obviously.. I want it.." your voice rumbles navelly, eyes fix on her pupils, narrowed lids and a siren visage.

"Head on the pillow then, princess." Ellie chuckles, hands mindlessly peeling open the box.

Your fingers linger on your bra, still on somehow, so you brace it off willingly, plopping into the cloudy pillow enveloping your sticky skin with a cotton case creasing like a halo surrounding your head.

Ellie dumps the box's contents out, a thick hunter green mass smacking your thigh, "Shit, sorry." she clasps the strap-on by its buckle, leading it off your thigh simultaneously to giggling.

"How long ago did you find that box anyway?"

"Like.. a month or two?" her voice curves, unsure.

"So, you've been planning this for 2 months?"

"I've liked you longer than that."

"Oh?"

"I didn't plan it, I just.. had the stray thought." Ellie's cheeks churn in a red tint, "But I always think of you, fake dick or not."

"It's fine, I wanted you for a while too, so it's mutual." you sync a blush, anticipating the hazy lust to clamor within you again, "Thought of you too."

A mischievous grin carves on her lower face, light eyes squinting, "Like, in bed-"

"Get that damn thing on already."

"Yes, ma'am!" Ellie resumes her motions, tearing the rest of her under garments off in a pinch, bare alongside you. She fastens the strap on snug, jabbing into her untended clit that jams a groan out of her diaphragm.

"Neglected a bit?" you tease.

"Shut up." she hushes in a honeyed mumble, slouching slightly and grasping the mimicked shaft, spitting into her unoccupied palm and massaging the length graciously, "There we go.." she hums deeply.

Next thing, Ellie's hoisted your bottom between her thighs and legs hugging her hips loosely, seconds away from cramming the entire base into your over-sensitive pussy. She runs the tip through your delicate folds, sloshing the lewd slickness around which is music to your ears. Her eyes darted over to capture yours, withholding the appetite for one last affirm of consent; "Ready babe?"

"Mhm." You nod with zero hesitation, squirming your hips in timidness for what might be brought upon your foggy senses.

Ellie leans her body over you, sinking the tip between your slippery walls and gauging you in one quick swing of her hips. 

"Fuck!" Bliss clogs your throat but overdrive knots in your pelvis, implanting your bottom deeper in the sheets as a means of reprieving the inferno of overstim just slightly.

Ellie lends you a moment of adjustment, asking in a silky tone, "Can I start moving?" her face a breath away from yours, arms like pillars locking you between her hands.

"Please.." you secure your legs around her hips, nicking her in the butt with the heel of your foot playfully, "fuck me.."

Ellie's muscles tense in excitement, fierce craving looms in her face and her hands run down to grip your hips in a carnal fashion as she sinks you deeper on her base, uttering under a hush, "I'll fuck the shit out of you."

Following that, you embrace her close to you as her hips begin to crash against yours slowly, akin to a wave, hollowing and filling as she pumps her hips flawlessly. 

Tickling whimpers purring from your lips linger around the base of her ear, encouraging her to speed up slightly, chromatically raising the pitch of your pleasure, "Els…" you whine.

The strap jerks back at every thrust, chafing with her sensitive clit in provoking ways that draw out steamy breaths from her every moan. Friction beguiled her to pace faster, digging the straps base into her bud deeper, heaving a "Fuck, baby, fuck!" from that groggy voice as your hips knead together, her fingernails scraping your plush bottom instinctively.

You cast your head back towards the headboard, displaying a tidal of curses surfing from your throat at the top of cloud nine, "Yes! god.. harder.." 

"Say my name.." 

"Els-E-Ell.." you struggle as your voice gets smothered by every buck her hips produce.

"Come on.. you can do it." she motivates you in a sugary sweet coo.

"Ellie!" you wail, "Ellie.." 

"Good girl."

Ellie snaps and throws her torso up, clutching your tender hips and slamming them down on her eased cock, front slapping harshly against your bottom with aiding wetness splayed across your legs, her face contorting one of strain at the sheer intensity her speed proves to be.

"Mm, fuck!" You writhe in erotic contentment, stunned by the pure sensations sweeping your nerves and swirling around your pelvis, she's fucking you so good, your minds' all mush.

Ellie bites back her ceaseless rasps, riveted on the way your breasts bounce restlessly with every pound, bewitched by the sight and honestly almost drooling since her mouth was just open. She groans, "You gonna cum again? Hmm?" her thrusting falters and begins to get sloppy, out of breath.

"A-huh! Hmmnn.." your vision blurs and you fall into a dizzying spire, fucked out of your mind and on the verge of snapping.

"Yes.. yess.." Ellie mewls out, the dark amber strand sticking to her drenched forehead, emanating a beautiful glow across her body that weaved every groove her toned muscles bestowed, highlighting her drooping lids, agape mouth and taut forehead creasing when fucking felt just right.

All the feelings bubble up, the strap hitting your g-spot so perfectly, fogging your mind and tossing your coordination out the window. She descends her head towards your neck, sanguine bites lathered upon your shoulder and crook of your neck.

"Ellie- I'm gonna.."

"Me too." She huffed out, slamming your hips down in unison with her movement, a sheet of slick glazed between both of your crotches causing a wet slap to occur with each thrust, "Open up more, babe." her hands trail to your thighs, forcing them apart .

"It's s'fhukin g-mmm.." your voice slurs and cuts off.

"Shhhshh… shh.. I know.." her lips drag against your ear, prideful eyes drowning in your fucked out face, proud of her work. 

The swelling knot in your pelvis finally snaps, sending you quivering in her arms. Lewd moans clatter against the rooms walls, orgasm overwhelming your systems and gyrates your brain on a down spiral. Muggy sweat cloaks your entire body and hinders a steady breath from grazing your lungs.

Ellie's pelvis doesn't hesitate to halt, colliding with yours and rendering your already fried senses into a numbing and jittery state. She chases her own climax, hosting a melody of moans into your ears as she approaches release, "Fuck~ fuck fuhhckk.. babe." she squints harshly, driving her clit into the strap's base fiending for release.

"Els.." you whine, bracing the eruption of overstim.

"Just hold on, baby, hold'n.. uhh- fuck." Ellie's neck tightens and narrows her voice into a groan, gripping your wrist with a might to bear down her intense orgasm, sexy low growls thrumming from her chest. Her body falls flat on you in immediate exhaustion, burrowing the strap deep inside at a pause.

A laugh entrances you, "Felt good, hmm?"

"I should be asking you.. shit.." Ellie's chest rises sporadically against you as she syncs a giggle, sliding her hips away and taking the strap off without batting an eye so she could pepper you with smooches enraptured in a cuddle.

"It was good.. really fuckin' good."

Your reply seeps into her mind, inviting a sheepish smile to her face, "So.. does this mean, you'll be my… girlfriend?" a chuckle spurts out to clear any awkwardness.

That same pre-sex shy blush paints your face, replying, "Yeah, hell yeah."

"Okay.. you wanna, stay here tonight?" Ellie suggests with soft yet worn out eyes, fiddling with the hair cascading from your scalp.

"Of course, I don't think I can walk anywhere now." you quip, whisking your finger over her nose tip.

"Yeah.. bet I was better than any guy." She praises herself, beaten fingers tracing shapes on your chest.

"At least you get to choose your size."

"Pfft, you're funny." A brilliant laugh brushes past her lips, with a mellow whisper, "and so pretty." her thumb swipes your cheek.

You wrap your snug thighs enveloping her body, "You too, Williams." 

"Still calling me that? I thought I said-" 

You seal her lips with a prolonged kiss, dragging your lips against hers in a hypnotic passion, getting her to engage in something a bit longer than a lone kiss. She indulges without a second thought, slurping you up and tasting every inch of your-

A knock pounds your hearing and the door, adjourning the steamy makeout for a different time.

The voice behind the knocking calls out, "Yo, Ellie! You in there?" unmasking itself to be Jesse.

"Shit!" she yells, "Be right there!" and scurries off the bed, hunting for her under garments frantically.

You quickly bolt off the bed and swoop your undergarments, nearly toppling over as you shimmy your underwear on hurriedly but fortunate enough to catch your fall with some clamorous foot thumps to the wooden floor.

"What's goin' on in there? You fightin' a runner in there?" Jesse quips, his voice deadened by the walls.

"Ye- No!" Ellie stammers in a rush, managing to yank her jeans up and throw a bland white shirt over it, oblivious to the fact that it was inside-out, seams bulking and tag visible.

You were on the brink of raising a question to Ellie, but bite it back as she swings the door open and you cling to the closet adjacent to but behind the open door, not without a blow from your back against its rattling nature that had Ellie spooked for a split second.

"What're you doing here?" Ellie inquires, crossing her arms to appear unbothered.

"Heard you had quite a night after I left." His voice clarifies, streaming through the open door.

"It-" Her response defects, "She kissed me. Dina being Dina, it doesn't mean anything-"

"Wait, you kissed Dina?" Jesse interjects her reply, voice curving in curiosity.

"Oh, I thought-"

"We're broken up one week and you make a move on my girl?"

"No- She was the one- I don't even.." Ellie corners herself into a distraught state.

"I'm messing with you man, I don't care. I just swung by to tell you Maria switched up the assignments for tomorrow, you're up for more patrol."

"Seriously? I thought I'd get-"

"Hey why's your shirt inside out? Did you really get tangled up with a runner in there?" He jokingly peeks into the room, jolting back when Ellie's forearm bars him out randomly.

"None of your business, I get it now you can go." She sternly affirms, slowly creaking the door closed.

"What'chu hidin' in there?"

"Go!" Ellie strikes the door shut on his face, secretly flipping him off from the opposite site under the knob.

"Unholy fuck-"

"Next time try not to wake the dead with your footsteps!" She snaps back at you through an adorned smile, on edge from the unexpected, interrupting, visit.

"Like I said I can barely walk from your-"

Ellie strides up in a pacey fashion, cradling your head from the back in her palms, linking lips with yours soulfully. 

You press your lips, dawdling with hers and soaking in the taste of breath and flesh. It feels so good to expose your love, animated for her in this moment now, like a singing felicity in your heart. She parts, engulfing you in her olive irises before she croaks.

"Say we.. get back to bed? I wanna show you my drawings.." A sugary murmur trampling her usually husky voice.

"Yeah.." you wriggle your lips in a creeping smirk, leveraging your weight from one leg to the other.

"C'mere." Ellie creaks before tackling you onto the bed, burying you with infinite ticklish kisses along your face, a declaration of unfiltered affection in her lasting intentions.

"Ellie! That tickles.."

"Good."

hope you enjoyed!!! <3

MASTERLIST

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie x reader #lesbian #sapphic #the last of us #the last of us 2 #wlw #jackson!ellie #ellie wiilliams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie smut

[sunsents]

Neteyam - Reacting to your death

Hey y'all, how y'all doing 😟? It's been a year since I published something but I am in my avatar era. I will post an announcement about where I've been, but enjoy(?) this heavy angsty.

Summary —> You're on your last breath, and Neteyam has a hard time accepting it.

Pairing: neteyamsully x !reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1024

Warnings: blood/angst/mentions of a g*n/sad neteyam

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

Sharp pain was all you could feel when you jumped down the ship. It was that short moment of pushing Neteyam before you to minimize exposure that the realization hit you; you followed after him without thinking twice about the consequences, yet again.

Your ears rang in the otherwise silent ocean, like the water completely separated itself from the unnatural, unnecessary and foreign violence happening in the surface. A sigh of relief, contentment, serenity, until you're resurfucing again - or rather, struggling to.

"Fuck," you sputter, feeling a strange loss.

Lo'ak shouts after you to hurry up, but you can't, and it frustrates you. You hate falling behind, no matter how dire the injury is. "You sxkawng," gasping and trying to hold onto something, crimson surrounds you. "I'm shot."

Everyone stills.

Neteyam's head whips around with nothing but pure, unadulterated horror. His eyes fall on your pained face, then the bullet wound on your chest. You can see dark shadows casting over his face, the tremor of his hands, the slowing of his breath - all working together to keep his gears turning you assume. He quickly swims forward. "Quick, the Ilu."

You feel yourself being held around your body - suddenly, warmth feels like an unfamiliar concept. When had you become so cold to the outside world? When had you closed yourself off that warmth was foreign?

Though in odd, you fashion, you're not panicking. You're just lying there, gazing at the sky and letting chaos erupt around you. Sounds are muffled, and you don't know what's happening but you can only assume they're taking you to land.

The sky looks uncharacteristically blue - against all odds you've found yourself in. Eywa is in mourning.

Maybe it's because you cannot fathom that you, your own life, cannot end. You feared losing loved ones, but never feared nor thought about dying. It's not like you were immortal of course, one day you were going to leave the physical world and join the all mother amongst your family.

You just didn't think it would happen this soon. And you still think against it - you think against it when Mr Sully lays you down on cold rock, when he turns you over to inspect something, and when he looks at you with a faraway look.

"Dad," Neteyam chokes out.

Everything hurts and you start struggling to breath. Light headed, that's when you stop thinking  all together.

"Am I-" you gasp for air, surprised that you, out of all people, is struggling to speak. You were quite chatty, at least that's what they told you. "Am I, dying?"

"No!" yells Neteyam, he's cupping your head with his palm, not letting your head touch the cold surface. "You're not dying, ____!"

He's sobbing, and you look around the faces of the people you consider loved ones. Lo'ak is wide  eyed, staring at your probably paled face. He looks in utter agony and...confusion? Mr. Sully is crying, this is the first time you have seen him cry - be so vulnerable. He was Toruk Makto, so he'd always dismiss you with a nod, sometimes crack a joke here and there but stay stern all the while. He was clutching your hand, his own shaking. Kiri was just now arriving at the little land formation, and the look of her horror on her face brings tears to your eyes. You were dying - no. You were dead, it was final.

You try to calm your breathing, an obscene contrast to the gushing blood on your chest. You couldn't speak, but you could feel. And you were feeling the love of the people around you - and with the intensity of it, you deemed it a worthy way to go.

Neteyam however, was cluthing on your hand, hard. "You are not leaving me ____....Dad!" he sobs, a wretched sound breaking through his chest as he doubles over your body and shudders. "Do something!"

He's yelling, screeching even. His dad looks in anguish at his son's state, or perhaps because he feels utterly helpless at saving you.

"It's okay, Neteyam." you say softly, in a very wispy voice; "You're going to be okay."

You smile, and he screams, trashing and hugging your body to his chest. You try to push him away, but to no avail. Your limbs have fallen weak, you have already accepted the pain. "No!" he screams again, chest reverbeting against your deflating form.

"No, no, no, no!"

Mr Sully grabs ahold of his son and softly pulls him back, seperating him from you, "Son, please," his voice sounds broken.

Lo'ak is silent beside you, head held down, shuddering. Warm droplets are hitting your arm, and you can only guess it's tears. Kiri is on her knees, begging To Great Mother.

But you know it's final. And you don't feel too sad about it. You'd get to be with your parents, and Eywa, and all that. You'd be happy, you know you would be.

"____! No, I have to tell-" Neteyam gasps, trashing in his fathers hold. "I love you, I see you. Please,"

You're eyes have finally glazed over, you're gone.

You hadn't heard, and that only breaks Neteyam more. He screams in agony, clawing at your body, shaking you so, somehow, miraculously, you would open your eyes, tell him you love him and that you wan't to spend the rest of your life with him.

But there is no, "rest”. This was it for you, this was your life. When you had told him that you wanted to spend your life exploring Pandora, this was the extent. You would never have that, you will never be able to fulfill your dream because this day was the entirety of your future and present.

Neteyam is helpless. He had somehow escaped his fathers hold and was hugging your lifeless body close to his. Shrieks were ripping from his throat, desperately trying to transfer some sort of energy into your limbs. He could feel his mother's warmth surround him, a weak force pulling him back. "Please, don't. Let me hold her."

He sounded so broken, empty, purposeless that his mother and father break down as well.

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar twow #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #neteyam imagine #kiri sully #tuk #loak #loak sully #loak x reader #jake sully #neytiri #neytiri sully #angst #avatar angst

[mi-i-zori]

Breathe

Cod - Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : Nikto drinks blood like a starved beast.

WARNINGS : NSFW - 18+. Beware, this is kind of unhinged. Canon-typical violence, blood (Reader has periods - emphasis on period blood), Nikto (a warning in himself), blood/period kink (?), poetic smut, fluff.

Author’s Note : I have no idea why I keep using poetic sentences whenever I try to write smut, but hey. Guess its just how I am. A filthy romantic at heart.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

Nikto licks blood off his fingers on the daily like a starved beast, savouring a taste he knows will never fully satiate his hunger.

It does not matter if the crimson nectar is his or not ; he keeps engraving its flavour deep into his mind. It leaves a warm, metallic feeling in the back of his throat - one similar to the one lining the surface of the gun that was repeatedly shoved past his teeth after its bullets were lodged in-between his ribs, the thick ropes circling his wrists harvesting his own, personal flavour directly from his veins.

Both life and death flow past his tongue, carving countless nightmares in the few hours of sleep weighing heavy on his subconscious - dragging a never ending series of shuddering breaths up his oesophagus whenever he wakes.

He can never escape them, for reality is just as bitter as his dreams. So he drowns it it blood, gunpowder and alcohol, turning away from the shredded screams coming from his reflection in the mirror.

Until that moment.

Your face is pulled into a grimace as you tell him about the way one of your stupid coworkers shamelessly blabbered about how dirty he thinks period blood is, filling your head with somber thoughts at the idea that yours is quickly approaching.

You don’t see how his eyes light up when they fall upon the date circled in red on the calendar of your phone.

And it is only when his lips meet your bleeding walls for the first time, lapping at the tears running down the inside of your thighs with a newfound reverence blossoming on his tongue, that the spectre in his head finally goes silent.

You look like divine absolution, he thinks, watching with rapt attention as moans flow from your lips like a holy river. Lust fills his mind, body and soul as he wonders if edging you further would allow him to taste the stars running through your veins. Would the world end up falling apart with you ?

The thought of the Earth shattering like glass against the echo of your climax fuels the fire burning in his stomach.

So he keeps staining his mouth red with your blood and slick. War-torn hands hold your legs still around his head as his fingers pull at your flesh, moulding it to his will - and he growls loudly against your core, the waves of a supernova bursting through your entire body as a new orgasm shakes the very foundations of your universe.

Is it the third ? The fourth ? The fifth ? You stopped counting a few seconds after his mouth first latched on the sacred flower blooming between your legs, too lost in the song of your own pleasure.

Nikto doesn’t need anything more to find his own release. He then crashes on top of you as you both fall from your high, lips sharing the last remnants of your erratic, scorching breaths.

He lays there for the rest of the night, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat - your divinity dancing on the back of his tongue.

The constellations lining your mind call out to him as he sleeps, flickering with the promise of finally carrying him away from the ruins of his heart. They light up his bones from below the thorns, and he would gladly sacrifice what is left of himself if it meant you could cradle them against your breast.

The warm softness of your skin soothes the pain still lingering in his scars, and he subconsciously cages your bare form in his arms as he drifts to the world of dreams.

He can finally breathe.

#cod nikto #call of duty nikto #mwii nikto #nikto #nikto x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #smut #cod smut #i usually struggle when writing smut #but i wrote this so quickly #idk what possessed me #i enjoy poetic filth

[charmandabear]

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly. 

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon. 

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable. 

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt. 

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk. 

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone. 

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.” 

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that. 

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you. 

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex. 

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside. 

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other. 

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking. 

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you. 

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his. 

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads. 

#astarion fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion angst #astarion fluff

[zhonglism]

MOON TIE

18+ MDNI; rigger!geto, bottom!reader, f!reader, smut, bondage (shibari/kinbaku), unprotected semi-public s*x (in a studio), suspension s*x (reader is tied up in a moon tie while doing it lol), all consensual, oral (f receiving), brief clit slapping, light dirty talking, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetheart, baby, my pretty, my darling), the tie done in this fic is the ‘moon tie suspension’ for reference.

word count: 4k

notes: re-published work from my old (deactivated) account, not plagiarising :>

“do you trust me?” his voice, smooth and velvety, just above a whisper, ghosting over your ears inside the dimly lit room.

suguru always asked this question before starting the private lesson—to solidify the bond between the rigger and the bottom. shibari wasn’t just about the act of binding someone or being bound, it was more than that; the consent, the art of intricate rope patterns, the intimacy between two people.

before you was a wooden suspension rig which donned a ‘swing-set’ style frame; suguru stood behind your figure, you could feel his tall frame looming as his question floated along the thick air of the room, waiting to be answered. “yes.” a breathy tone slipped past your lips, one that you didn’t intend—you couldn’t help it, not when the growing tension went unnoticeable. the lesson hasn’t even started and yet ever since you stepped foot in the room 10 minutes ago, the atmosphere shifted.

it was like both of you were walking on egg shells in each other’s presence, as if a single wrong move would result in something dangerous. the glint in suguru’s eyes confirmed that but nonetheless, as your rigger, he remained nothing but absolutely professional. although you can’t help think about his lingering touches during the last session—the way his palm rested against the inside of your thigh a little longer; the way his chest pressed against your back; the way his fingers rubbed the crimson rope marks on your arm.

a satisfied hum came from behind, followed by his footsteps walking away from you—to grab the rope, you assumed. “i-i want to try something new. .” turning around, you watched suguru walked towards you with a scarlet jute rope in his hands. he tutted, “not with that hesitancy in your tone, no.”

a deflated sigh left your lips, “just hear me out.” your rigger stood before you, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to the side. you took upon his silence as a sign to keep going but you found your cheeks heating at the thought of it—the words forming on your tongue. suguru watched as the gears turned in your head, your expression somewhat flustered and deep in thought. he shook his head, “no, we’re not trying it.” suguru sighed before walking towards the wooden suspension rig.

you let out a sigh of disappointment. “shibari is all about the art of experimenting but that comes with the great cost of consent and confidence. i won’t force anything you’re uncomfortable about nor introduce new themes if i sense your hesitancy. rope bondage is something to take seriously or you can end up seriously injured.” that’s what he told you during your first lesson. suguru sensed a sign of hesitancy in you twice, which means your idea was most likely off the plate.

fuck it.

“i want to do it naked.”

you watched as suguru stopped in his tracks, his ebony strands were tied in a bun, exposing the back muscles stiffening under the white tank top he donned; the singular spotlight pointed at the middle of the room—at the suspension rig—casted harsh shadows upon his physique, defining every dip and curve of his body. looking over his shoulder, suguru held your gaze but remained silent. “it’s nothing new for you, right? i want to experience it all.” that’s right. as a professional rigger, it wasn’t new to him to encounter naked models while in practice.

you’ve attended some of his performances where suguru worked his ropes on a naked model. seeing him up on the stage with someone else’s naked body on display had your stomach turning, even if suguru was completely professional about it. “i can already do suspension, so what’s the difference with having no clothes on?”

a lot. one big difference was that you were going to be suspended in the air naked. you knew that but it wasn’t like you were trying anything completely new. a velvety chuckle tore through the deafening silence of the room, “for once, you’re going to be completely naked and at my mercy.” suguru rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing at the movement before continuing towards the suspension rig. at his mercy. did he have to word it that way? the corner of his lip tugged up as he watched your thighs rub together, it was a subtle action but suguru was all about subtlety.

“i know that, and i’m okay with it.” oh god. you didn’t know why you were so pushy today. usually, all you did was follow suguru’s instructions as he guided you through the ropes. “my darling, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” your knees almost buckled at the pet name but you stood your ground, holding his ebony gaze. suguru has your full consent, there was nothing else, really. he sighed but his face showed amusement, the light illuminating his handsome features.

“changing room is to the left, there are robes inside for you to slip into and a cabinet for your clothes. i’ll be here once you’re done.” a tinge of crimson painted his cheeks, paired with a slight waver in his velvet voice. you nodded wordlessly and didn’t waste any time to get undressed. suguru let out a loud sigh he’s been keeping as he heard the door closed shut; he dropped the scarlet rope on the ground, a thud bouncing from wall to wall as he face palmed, fully aware of his blush.

suguru cleared his throat as he watched your robed figure quietly pad over to where he stood, his mind spun at the thought of your naked body beneath the ivory cotton fabric—how it rubbed against your bare skin. his hands should be the one doing that, not some fabric. you noticed the way suguru’s chest heaved up and down, harsh breaths leaving his nose as you begun to untie the soft belt around your waist. your rigger found himself scampering to grab the rope off the ground, keeping his best to remain professional and to avoid gawking at your body.

in reality, his professionalism was hanging by a single thread. a thread bound to snap sooner or later.

suguru didn’t dare look up once he heard the soft fabric fall to the wooden floor, he could see from the corner of his eyes as it pooled around your bare feet. suddenly the jute rope in his palms were much more interesting, onyx eyes scanning the scarlet swirls of the rope. “i’m ready.” he almost jumped at your whispered tone, causing him to immediately look up from the rope. suguru sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes traced your naked body, light illuminating the parts he has never seen before.

fuck. he can already tell what your bare figure would look like all bound and suspended in the air. completely at his mercy.

surprisingly, you didn’t feel small under his piercing gaze but your heart hammered against your chest. you felt tranquil, like you weren’t inside your body, as if someone else was controlling every single action and emotion you had. is this what it felt like to be zen? to be at peace with your body and mind?

suguru cleared his throat once again, palm tightening around the rope. “right. last session, i introduced you to a new tie called the ‘moon tie’. this time, we’ll try the ‘moon tie suspension’ where you’ll be suspended in the air. the position is a bit different from last time, so do let me know if you’re beginning to feel uncomfortable.”

your rigger stood behind you, “i’ll start with the xana chest harness but this time with your arms bound behind your back. may i?” you could feel suguru’s breath ghost over your bare back, leaving goosebumps under its phantom touch. not trusting your voice, you nodded, placing your arms behind your back. a shaky breath slips past your lips as you feel the scarlet rope wrap bind your wrists together—a feeling you’re accustomed to but now with you bare body, you can feel the entirety of the rope, the roughness of it without any fabric barrier.

suguru looped the rope around your torso, making sure it’s snug enough to hold you suspended but also safe for you to breathe and stay comfortable while in the air. you bite your lip at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your breasts while looping the rope around your front and bringing it back. standing perfectly still with your arms behind your back, your body jerks along with every tug suguru does as he works the rope around your torso—your rigger stands before you, looping it over and under the previous ties he has done.

you study his concentrated face while he works on your chest. so professional. you think to yourself. in reality, suguru is almost losing his mind, his face so close to your naked breasts and yet all he can really do is brush his hands against them. oh, how he would like to massage them and listen to the moans that slip past your lips. maybe even pop a mound in his mouth, hot tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple over and over again—fuck what was he thinking?

a few more tugs here and there, your rigger admires the intricate rope work around your torso—he takes a couple of steps to circle you, making sure the lines are neat and snug. suguru noticed the way your breasts look with the scarlet rope woven around it, he slightly fiddles with the waist band of his ivory loose pants, a sinful feeling stirring between his legs. “i’ll move onto the moon tie.”

your body heats at the rough texture of the rope rubbing against your bare skin, it wasn’t painful nor uncomfortable but it did things to you. “do tell me if you feel anything out of sort, be as vocal as you want.” suguru voices out before starting the moon tie. he weaves the rope into the chest harness, kneeling down to loop it around each thigh—hands lingering on your inner thigh a little longer than needed. you bite back a moan as suguru tugs the rope, giving you a pleasurable friction near the apex of your legs. so close yet so far.

before you know it, the scarlet rope that suguru had was perfectly woven around your body, intricate loops and patterns accentuated your features. he helped you on a small step stool to prepare for the suspension, grabbing an extra rope to tie you on the suspension rig. “comfortable?” “as always.” you reassure him. suguru nods, walking to your right side, “i mentioned before that this one is a bit different than the previous moon tie we did. the suspension requires tying your ankle to the rig.”

a warm palm encased around your right ankle, securing the jute rope around it before lifting it up and tying it on the wooden rig. with one ankle lifted, it placed you in a compromising position—legs far apart and your cunt in full view, all for suguru to admire. once the ankle tie was secured around the suspension rig, he took a step back to admire the art before him—a slight tent in his pants forming at the sight of you at his mercy.

you looked absolutely breathtaking. the way the scarlet rope hugged your body just right, the fat of your skin bulging from it’s snug fit. oh, how he wished to take you right then and there.

suguru’s eyes glossed over your exposed cunt glistening under the warm lighting. he didn’t mean to say it out loud, he had no intentions of even speaking about it but it just came out. “you’re wet.” the rigger before you pointed out, gaze locked on the apex of your legs. your first instinct was to close them but the rough scarlet rope that bound you kept them in place, cheeks heating at the restriction. “. . why don’t you do something about it, then?”

“that won’t be professional of me.” his words betrayed his actions.

one. two steps and he was right in front of your wet cunt. bringing a slender finger to your right inner thigh and dragging it towards the spot where you yearned for him the most. a muttered curse slips past your lips as suguru’s digit teased you. up and down, up and down his finger trailed but never near your cunt. now you completely understood being at his mercy—hands bound behind your back, ankle tied to the suspension rig, body suspended mid-air; you couldn’t do anything other than take what he gives you, or not what he gives you.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he hummed, dropping to his knees so he was at eye level with your wet folds. the first day you stepped foot in his studio, eyes wide with curiosity, suguru fantasised about you—how your body would look bound and suspended in the air, your most intimate parts exposed all for him to admire and touch.

the last thread of his professionalism snapped. all he wanted was you, now.

he moved closer, breath fanning over your cunt. “suguru, please. .” your body wiggled against the restraint, arms dying to grab his head and press his face between the apex of your legs. he hummed, tongue darting out to lick a long stripe towards your clit. you shuddered at the feeling of his hot tongue, a broken moan in the form of his name hangs in the thick air. “that’s it. i like it when you’re vocal for me, sweetheart.” suguru purred before diving into the heat of your cunt.

you tasted just as delicious as you looked. suguru ate you out with such fervour—tongue plunged deep inside you, exploring the parts he has never touched before. he groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations which had your body shuddering with pleasure. “fuck. . ! just like that—mhm!” the scarlet rope left marks on your arms as you tugged against it, needing some kind of object to hold on to, to keep you grounded as you awaited your impending orgasm.

lewd sounds filled the studio, with every slurp of suguru’s mouth, the sounds bounced around the walls, engulfing your ears. his large hand slapped your clit, causing you to jerk at the sudden pleasure jolting up your body. “a-ah! yes, i’m so near—ngh. . !” you let out a heated gasp as suguru harshly sucked on your cunt, hand still stimulating your swollen bud just above his nose. he grunted, signalling you to cum all over his tongue.

and you did. you threw your head back, body wriggling against the restraint as you cried out his name, a pleasurable pain rubbing on your bare skin which was sure to leave evident marks. suguru hungrily lapped your essence, tongue languidly licking up every bit of cum that trickled out of your cunt, groaning in satisfaction. he rode out your orgasm by rubbing slow, soft circles on your clit—muttering saccharine praises near your cunt.

suguru stood up and made his way in front of you, lacing his hand beneath your jaw to pull you in a passionate kiss. you groaned into the kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. so lewd, so dirty and yet you wanted more. your body jolted as his free hand wandered to your bare chest, palm ghosting over your pert nipples in a teasing manner. “i want you so bad.” suguru whispered as he broke the kiss, lips softly grazing over your own while he held your gaze.

a small smirk formed as he watched you chase his lips, attempting to lean forward to seal the distance, only to be held back. “you have me. . at your mercy.” suguru’s eyes were the colour of space, dark, vast, and mysterious but it held the universe inside it. “fuck . . you can’t tease me like this.” he groaned, the growing tent in his pants became uncomfortable with every passing second. “‘m not teasing you, suguru. i want you just as bad as you want me.” he held your gaze for a few seconds before his arms worked on the white tank top he wore.

you sucked in a sharp breath—eyes tracing his god-like physique. the light above contoured suguru’s muscles, casting sharp shadows that added depth to each curve and dip of his body. you wanted to run you hands all over his torso, to feel his muscles flexing beneath your palms while exploring his body but to your dismay, your arms remained secured behind your back.

suguru didn’t hesitate to discard his pants and underwear in one swift movement, the fabric pooled around his ankles. your eyes were glued to his hard cock, standing proudly against his abdomen, it’s red tip was already leaking with pre-cum. fuck, he was big. suguru groaned as his palm wrapped around the shaft, giving it languid strokes as he worked his pre-cum all over his cock.

“just the thought of you suspended mid-air like this. . fucking you while you’re restrained is driving me crazy. would you be a good girl and take it all? or would you squirm beneath my touch, beg to be untied? mmm, i can have my way with you. .”

your cunt clenched around nothing as you watched your rigger pleasure himself, fisting his cock again and again. he situated himself between your parted legs, one hand holding his hard cock to tease the angry tip up and down your folds, alternating between rubbing and slapping in against your wet cunt. “s-suguru. . !” you gasped, hands balling into fists at the bare contact. “please, no teasing.”

“eager, aren’t we?” suguru eased his cock in before you could come up with a retort. your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, head thrown back as his cock parted you. strings of curses and broken moans left your lips as suguru inched his way inside your tight walls, he gripped your thighs for support, to at least keep him grounded while his head spun at your cunt wrapped around his hard cock.

he stood there for a moment, cock fully sheathed inside you as he let you adjust to his size because fuck was he big, it also gave suguru time to pace himself—making sure not to cum right then and there with the way you clenched around him. “please move, suguru . .” you pleaded, attempting to wiggle your hips to chase some kind of friction down there.

suguru’s breathless chuckle filled your ears. he planted a chaste kiss on your right ankle—the one bound to the suspension rig—before slowly pulling his hips back and slamming into your sopping cunt; you both fell into a unison of moans, desperate pornographic sounds intertwining with one another to create a perfect melody—suguru’s deep groans mixed with your dainty sounds. his nails dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving crescent shaped marks on your soft skin.

you squirmed, eyes shut tightly as the blunt tip of his cock repeatedly kissed your cervix. the position you were suspended in allowed suguru’s cock to reach deeper into your cunt, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. wet squelches echoed throughout the studio, your essence dripping to the floor with every eager push of his hard cock. “if you keep squeezing me like that, i ain’t going to last much longer—haah. . !” suguru groaned, throwing his head back and exposing his neck; his adam’s apple bobbed with every moan of your name, a deep crimson blush plastered on his cheeks.

suguru noticed your closed eyes and reached a hand under your chin, angling your head towards him, “look at me while i fuck you.” he grunted, thumb caressing your bottom lip, dragging it downwards before prodding the digit between your lips. your mouth circled around his digit, eagerly welcoming it by swirling your tongue around and sucking on it—all while holding his lustful gaze.

your body jolted at the sudden force of suguru’s thrusts, his hips desperately ploughing into you, causing a pleasurable burn at the flesh of your inner thighs. his free hand wandered down your stomach, stopping just before where you to met and rubbed tight circles on your clit. you moaned around his digit, earning a breathless chuckle from suguru, “yeah? you like it when i fuck you like this? all tied up and open just for me?” you let out an unintelligible sound, your mind too hazy from lust to even nod in agreement.

shocks of pleasure prickled your skin, your muscles becoming taut as you neared your impending orgasm. suguru noticed the change in your behaviour, the way your chest heaved up and down, a series of broken high pitched moans coming from you, and your eyes rolling to the back of your head—he took his thumb from your mouth and held your jaw, “make pretty sounds for me while you cum.” you cried out his name, voice full of heat and desperation that had suguru’s eyes almost rolling back in pleasure.

he encouraged you to make more sounds, shaky whispers leaving his lips. suguru knew he was close too from the familiar bubbling at the pit of his stomach but he wanted you to cum first, he wanted to see how pretty you’d look as you creamed his cock. “that’s it, baby. . ! moan just for me, and only me. .” suguru let out a heated gasp, the sensation of your clenching walls becoming too much for him.

you tugged at the rope woven around your body, squirming in place as you came—stars engulfing your vision, and suguru’s name hung in the thick air of the studio. he caressed your cheek, onyx eyes glued to your lust-driven face as he whispered dirty praises; suguru knew you probably couldn’t hear his voice from the blissful expression on your face but that was fine, you did so well for him.

“think you can take one more for me?” he grunted, a pained expression donned his face as you clenched around him—although, what he was feeling was far from pain. you let out a broken cry, scrambling to get away from suguru’s hips since the pleasure was becoming too much. hot tears rolled down your heated cheeks as you chanted his name, throat scratchy from all the moaning you did earlier.

“c’mon, one more f’me, my pretty—aah, fuck . . !” you leaned into suguru’s touch, the contact of his palm on your cheek burned with bliss. “‘m cumming! ngh! suguru. . !” “s-shit. let go for me.” you let out a silent moan, eyes rolling back and lips locked in an ‘o’ shape as pleasure hit you immensely—your body shuddered, head spinning. suguru angled his body so his face was positioned near yours, sealing your lips together in a messy kiss.

he groaned in between kisses, chasing your lips while your body jolted with every desperate thrust of his hips. suguru gave you a few more messy thrusts before completely pulling out and shooting his load on you. he eagerly fisted his cock, hand swiftly working on it to ride out his orgasm, and paint your body with every last bit of his cum; you moaned at the warm feeling of his cum coating your lower abdomen, and inner thighs—biting your bottom lip at his lewdness.

“you have no idea how much i’ve been wanting to do that.” suguru panted, a sheen of sweat coating his body, causing his muscles to glisten under the warm light.

“looks like i’m looking forward to our session next week, then.” you croaked. “oh, trust me, my darling, you may want to take a break next week. the rope marks aren’t the only thing that’s going to be sore for you.” he playfully chided, placing a chaste kiss on your sweaty forehead before setting the stool beneath your suspended body, preparing to untie you.

“yeah? why don’t you come massage it for me then.” “mmm, let’s get you cleaned up, hm? i’ll give you a real good massage. after all, i’m good with my hands.” suguru replies, peppering butterfly kisses all over your arms—the scarlet rope made a rather evident mark on your skin.

“good is such an understatement.” you smile up at him, tucking strands of his onyx fringe behind his pierced ear.

#zhonglism ༄ #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #smut #mdni

[bitethehnd]

softbutch!julien x highfemme!reader hcs ♡

cw : sfw, afabfem!reader, petnames, butchfemme dynamics, disustingly cute fluff, musician!reader, curly hair!reader, pre-relationship and established relationship :) heavily inspired by this fic, go read it!

a/n : i realize this isn't for everyone, i love all my gnc / non-femme babies! if this dynamic doesn't apply to you, go ahead and skip! this is very self-indulgent and i didn't really think i'd every publish this, but you guys requested it in my poll! for all my butches and femmes, ily ♡

✧ from the moment julien's eyes locked with yours, she knew she had to meet you

˖ the day you two met was around four years ago. you were a small, nashville-born artist performing with your band in a local lesbian bar. the crowd wasn't huge, and the pay wasn't great, but you loved performing to people that shared that same connection with you. the feeling of growing up different and the alienation that came with it

˖ you were on the small stage in the back of the bar, singing your heart out to the small crowd. the people around were dancing and drinking, enjoying one of the only places they felt comfortable in. julien was amongst them, but she was alone. she had come to this small bar to get inspiration for her new album. she thanked the heavens above that she made that decision. she got to see you for the first time. you were the prettiest thing she had ever seen. she knew she would kick herself for the rest of her life if she didn't talk to you after your performance

˖ the deep red dress you wore was lacy and frilly, matching the pattern of your stockings. your hair was tied half back with a bow the same shade of crimson. you bounced around on stage like you had trained your whole life for it. the flawlessness and perfection of the way you sung pulled julien in, becoming mesmerized by your siren-like voice

˖ your eyes full of excitement scanned across the room curiously, observing everyone with interest as you sung into the microphone. as soon as your eyes connected with julien's, you felt a jitter in your lungs. she stood on the side of the stage, a glass of water in hand, just silently observing you with curiosity. she was beautiful. utterly handsome. she wore a white button down tucked into a pair of baggy blue jeans, black oxfords on her feet, and simple jewelry scarcely scattered around her body. you quickly took your eyes off her and to a random point around the room, feeling your face heat up. julien smiled at the sight and immediately knew she had to know you

˖ after your band finished the small show, you all headed into the back room of the bar. you all stored away your instruments to pick up later, as you all decided to mingle about the crowd and stay for a while. you grabbed your purse, put on a fresh coat of lip gloss and made your way back to the front. you stayed close to your guitarist, daisy, at the bar, feeling a bit overwhelmed in the presence of all the people there. you ordered a simple cherry coke, not feeling like being hungover tomorrow when you had to go back to your day job

˖ soon enough, daisy left you alone to go talk to a woman that caught her eye. you took small sips of your drink as you sat at the bar, doe eyes gazing around you. in that moment, you saw the handsome woman from before. she was engaged in a simple conversation with one of the other bartenders farther down from you. she turned her head, and you locked eyes again. she seemed to have a conflicting look on her face before excusing herself from the bartender and making her way over to where you sat. your eyes widened as she walked over, not expecting her to actually come and talk to you

˖ julien strolled over and stood next to you, setting her glass of water down on the bar top. she had a small smile on her face, almost a smirk, as she looked up at you. “hi, sweetheart. can i sit?” you quickly nodded your head in confirmation. you turned your body to the side to face her as she sat, a shy smile on your face. she was even prettier up close. “i’m y/n! it’s nice to meet you,” you said gently. “i’m julien, nice to meet you too, sweetheart. your performance was wonderful,” she said softly, her confidence slowly deteriorating. she could hardly think when all she smelled was your vanilla perfume. “oh god, thank you! i’m glad someone was listening. usually, my band only plays small shows so it’s hard to get people engaged.” god, you were adorable. “of course. it would be hard not to listen, your voice is so beautiful. i’m in a band myself, actually.”

˖ thus began the meaningful conversation about music and your own bands. julien told you she was a part of boygenius. you revealed that you knew of the band’s ep released two years prior and loved the music. you even knew a couple of her solo songs and told her your favorites. this made julien smile brightly and the connection deepened

˖ eventually, your other bands members came up to you and said they were leaving after about 30 minutes of conversing with julien. you were disappointed but bid her goodbye. before you could make an exit, she grabbed your bicep gently to hold you back. "could i... get your number?" she asked with hope. you immediately nodded your head with an excited smile, typing your number in her phone, putting a little heart by your name. she grinned at your cuteness. just before you left, you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. she touched the spot absentmindedly as she walked to her car, a red print of lips stuck to the apple of her cheek

✧ julien courting you

˖ your meeting at the bar was the first, but definitely not the last time you saw julien. the next day, she quickly texted you as she woke up. she wanted to text you as soon as you left her sight the night before but didn't want to seem too eager. she shot you a message to let you know it was her before asking how you slept, ever the gentleman. you two quickly got caught in another conversation, both smiling on separate ends of the phone. she asked all about your hobbies. she learned that you didn't just have an affinity for music, but also for art and history. she decided then and there that she had to take you to an art museum

˖ your text conversations went on like this for a few days. all you could do when chatting with her was lay on your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet and feeling your face heat up. you felt like a high schooler all over again. you constantly felt yourself biting the inside of your cheeks to stop the grin from spreading on your face every time a message from her popped up on the screen

˖ thus begun the start of your dates. julien followed through with taking you to an art museum, loving the way your face lit up with joy at all the paintings and sculptures. some frequent spots for the two of you were homey coffee shops (julien's favorite, obviously), magical gardens, taking hikes among beautiful trees, and just sitting and talking. it didn't matter what you two did, it just mattered that you were together

˖ julien adored the way you wrapped your arm around her bicep, when you let her drape her coat over your shoulders, the sweet kisses you pressed to her cheek. the smirk never fell from her face for hours after you did anything affectionate. you felt giddy every time she called you 'sweetheart' or 'pretty,' when she protectivly wrapped her arm around your waist in crowded spaces, or when brought you small gifts. she never came to get you empty handed. she always came to pick you up from your apartment complex, open the car door for you, and always had a gift waiting for you on the seat. some common ones were records you had talked about, flowers, books, or a new one of your favorite foods that changed every week. julien never missed the little things you said, always storing them into her memory for a later use

˖ you loved getting to know her. nights spent sitting on the roof of your apartment, gazing at the stars were your favorites. every little single thing about her was interesting to you, and vice versa. you loved hearing about the bands that inspired her to make music, her favorite tattoos, or funny stories from her childhood. she loved when you talked about your favorite stuffed animal you religiously slept with as a little girl, your ramblings about the pros and cons of lipgloss brands, or just how pretty the sky looked at a particular moment

˖ after about three weeks of seeing each other almost every day, she asked you to be her girlfriend. a little slow compared to most lesbian relationships, but julien wanted to find the perfect time to ask. she didn't wat this to be a whirlwind romance, she wanted seriousness and commitment. you were both willing to give it to each other. she took you to that art museum she remembered you saying you liked. you looked utterly gorgeous strolling around and gazing at all the paintings, curly hair tied with a bow swinging behind you. you two walked around for about an hour, her arm wrapped firmly around your waist. every time you commented about how pretty an art piece was, she'd reply with "not as pretty as you." it never failed to leave you more infatuated with her

˖ after the museum date, she took you to a beautiful park filled with the blooming flowers of spring. you gazed around in wonder, eyes taking in the pretty sight. julien sat you down on a park bench, turning to face you, clasping your hands into her own. you were a bit confused and the anxiety of her telling you she didn't want to see you anymore crept up. before you could voice your thoughts, she asked the question, "can i be your girlfriend?" you answered immediately with a loving kiss to her lips, which she took as a yes. after the moment of passion was over, she pulled out a small box from the pocket of her leather jacket. she handed it to you with a small, nervous smile on her face, telling you to open it. inside the red velvet box was a heart shaped necklace with the letter 'j' on it. she pulled up the sleeve of her jacket to reveal a matching bracelet, the heart having your initial on it instead

✧ when you’re dating, julien never stops falling in love with you, and you fall right with her

˖ even after you two get together, the dates never come to a stop. at least once a week, either you or julien plan something together. whether it be a cooking class, sitting in a field and sketching, or playing each other your new music

˖ after about two months of dating, she asks you to move in with her. lucy warned her it might be “too quick,” but julien wasn’t hearing any of it. she wanted to be around you all the time, completely infatuated. you weren’t much better. you joke that if she could crawl inside your skin and live there, she would. she doesn’t disagree, but she wasn’t going to tell you that

˖ now, as a butch, moving in is julien’s thing. she’s anxious and over-prepared when she shows up to your house the day of the move. she refused to hire moving men because she insisted she could “do everything a man could do and better.” she’s not wrong there, so you don’t protest. she disassembles all your furniture that you’re taking with you to her house with ease. she wasn’t lying when she said she was handy. and she refuses to even let you carry the lightest box, smirking and saying, “don’t want you to chip a nail.” you smack her on the back of the head and plop down on the ground, just watching her. you do sneak a couple boxes though…

˖ after you got all of your belongings loaded into the u-haul truck (ironic, i know), you set off to her house. during the whole drive, she rambled about where to put all the new furniture and how exciting it was going to be to live together. you just stared at her with loving eyes and a soft smile, nodding alone to whatever random thought popped in her head

˖ when you got to her apartment, she got all of your essential things in and decided she'd get the rest in the morning. while she did that, you rummaged through her cabinets to find something to cook for dinner. you picked a simple meal of spaghetti and meatballs. as she placed the last box down, you served the pasta at the dining table. she wiped the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt while you tried so hard to not stare at her abs, you failed. she gave you a cocky smile when she caught you but said nothing. you two sat and ate your first dinner in your shared apartment, basking in the glow of love

˖ the longer you two lived together, the more accustomed you guys got to a routine. you'd be the one to get up first in the morning, julien still snoring like a middle-aged dad, while you made breakfast. you'd gently shake her awake and lead her to the kitchen, tempting her with the aroma of coffee and bacon. she always swore you made coffee "better than dunkin,'" but you knew that was a lie. never get in the way of that woman and her dunkin' donuts. after breakfast, julien would go on a jog. while she did that, you read a favorite book of yours or plan out some new songs

˖ the list of pet names she called you lengthened every day. there was a rang of sweet ones, like baby, babe, princess, angel, sweetheart, honey, doll, etc. but she also called you ones you figured she pulled out of her ass, no idea where she even got the idea from. you knew they were all a joke and it made you laugh with disgust ever time. some are pookie (phoebe's idea, of course), snookums, the wife (your favorite), boss, the missus, sugar tits and punk. you have some for her too, but she defiantly wins in the pet name category

˖ dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, illuminated by the refrigerator light ♡♡♡ she puts on some records from the 50's and you slow dance until the sun comes up. she keeps a firm hand on your waist and yours on the shoulders, her twirling and dipping you just to hear you giggle in delight

˖ let me tell you, this woman cannot keep her hands off of you, especially when in public. she always has a hand on the small of your back, leading you through crowds. or her fingers interlaced with your while doing mundane things, like getting groceries or walking through the park. it intensifies even more when at your apartment. her hand acts like its glued to your thigh during movie nights or her hands around your waist, standing behind you while you're doing the dishes

˖ she loves loves lovesss watching you do your hair or makeup, even offering to help sometimes. you look so focused applying your mascara or gliding on lip gloss. she even lets you give her makeovers sometimes, but only with the premise of no pictures (you do sneak a few though). she especially loves doing your hair. she's as careful as possible, understanding your hair is hard to deal with and can be knotty at times. she knows by heart to "only brush it when it's wet!!!" she has straight hair, so she does extensive research on what products and techniques are best for your hair type. she adores putting little bows all over your curls

˖ overall, the relationship is healthy and so full of love. you and julien fit so well together, it's almost like you were crafted to be each other's soulmate

© bitethehnd ୨ ♡ ୧ let me know if you guys want more parts to this! i also wanna do highfemme!gf reader for all munagenius members so give me some ideasss

#bitethehnd #julien baker x reader #julien baker au #julien baker x you #julien baker fanfic #butch #femme4butch #femme #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #sapphism #butch4femme #boygenius x reader #julien baker headcanons #julien baker hcs #boygenius fanfic #butchfemme

[her-favorite]

BEYOND THE PALE; J. VALESKA (TWO-FACED II)

JEROME VALESKA X F!DETECTIVE!READER

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

WARNINGS: SMUT, dom!jerome, suggestive language, possessive!jerome, descriptions of blood/dead bodies/bullet wound, dirty talk, jerome calls reader “doll” an unnecessary amount of times (i couldnt stop), use of the word ‘panties’ (more than once, i apologize)

and SMUT!!

A/N: I am so incredibly sorry for how long this took to publish 😭 my motivation is always rocky so it takes awhile for me to actually want to write. but i always want to get things out for you guys, yet i dont want to rush it because when i do, the character never seems accurate and i want you guys to enjoy it!! So thank you so much for your patience, i love you all sm 🫶🏻

TAGS: @ssnapsaurus @projectdreamwalker @l3xiluve

WORD COUNT: 8961!! (4655 of it is smut..)

SUMMARY: From the first time you met Jerome Valeska, you knew him as the son of Lila Valeska, the murder case you and Detective Gordon were working on. You had grown close, until you found out the truth. Now you know him as an Arkham escapee:

A MANIAX

-

SUMMARY: You should’ve known you could never outrun Jerome Valeska. From being the Two-Faced killer you once knew to the infamous Maniax member, he never seemed to forget about you. Maybe this time he’ll show you how much he truly cares about you.. how much he truly..

LOVES YOU

-

“Hey, doll.”

Your blood runs cold when you hear his voice. It was like you were back in that interrogation room, questioning why he had done what he did. You felt, at that moment, like your heart truly did tear through your skin. You felt cemented to your spot, too terrified to move incase he’ll do something drastic.

A cold hand wraps around you, pressing his palm against your mouth. You knew better than to scream, a gut feeling that no one would’ve heard you anyway.. if anyone had even survived.

“I told you I’d be back for ya, doll!” His manic laugh rings through the silent room, raising goosebumps on your cold skin.

This wasn’t going to be good..

-

You woke up with a jump as you tried to even out your breathing. Figures faded into your vision as well as the setting. You squinted your eyes at the bright lighting as you try to adjust to the uncomfortable position you were in.

A wooden chair is perched on top of the two desks that sit on the space in front of the captain’s office. They were pushed together to become a stable holder for the piece of furniture. You try to move your arms and legs, only to struggle as you realize that you were strapped down. Your heartbeat races as your hands start to lightly shake, trying to quietly break out of the constricting rope.

Footsteps sound from several feet away, seeming to make their way to you. As you turn your head to look around and try to find who it was, the only sight you’re met with are the dead bodies that littered the once-clean floor. Pools of crimson blood soaked up their decaying corpses as seconds pass, making you immediately avert your eyes. All of your colleagues lie dead on the precinct floor as you sit on some sort of makeshift thrown, looking over everything.

The walking grows louder as it nears you, stepping up the small stairs that leads up to the desks. Your heart drops to your feet as you see ginger hair peek out through the police hat, tall legs quickly maneuvering over the bodies and sliding up towards you. He jumps up on the surface as all you see is the bottom half of his face, revealing his devilish smirk.

Quickly, he takes the hat and throws it. He stood excited as he looks at you, leaning down to take a bow. His head looks up at you from its position, sending you a wink and a smile.

“Miss me, doll?”

-

Jerome paces between each desk, one hand up to his chin as if he was thinking while the other is holding his elbow up. “Hm.. how do I get my doll to talk to me..” He keeps walking back and forth, fake pouting as he animatedly thinks. He stops abruptly and gasps, moving the hand from under his chin to point upwards. “I know!”

He smiles widely as he walks over to you and crouches down. You have to look down at him as he looks up at you innocently with a sweet smile on his face that felt like it could rot your teeth.

“I know how to get you to talk to me..” He stares into your eyes as his white teeth show in a sinister smile. His two fingers walk their way up the side of the chair and over to your strapped down wrist. He walks his pale pointer and middle finger over your hand as he begins talking again. “Remember that night in your kitchen?” He whispers, hoping to get a reaction out of you.

You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. You try to not give him a reaction, but he’s already read you. Jerome smirks wide, resting an elbow on his knee and puts his head on his fist, looking up dreamily at you.

“I’ve been thinking about it ever since it happened.” He sends you teasing smile as he keeps talking, knowing that soon enough you’ll break. “The thought of your pretty lips touching mine was something I craved until now. I always wondered how pretty you’d look laying back on that counter, moaning and writhing for me. Begging me to fu-“

“Stop!”

Jerome smiles wide, a sinister curve of his lips reaching his ears. He perks up at your outburst, happy to see where it would lead. “I think I pushed all the right buttons.” He teases. He moves up from his crouched position and folds his hands behind his back. He stood tall in front of you again, looking up at him to make eye contact. He seemed to like the advantage he had at the moment, smiling down at you with pride.

“So, Y/N..” He leans forward quickly, still standing but bending his face towards yours. He was just inches away from you now, goosebumps prickling your skin. “Have you thought about me too?” Jerome whispers, staring down at your lips, waiting for you to answer him. When you don’t, he looks back up at your eyes. An overpowering emotion overrides you as your eye contact is made again, your breath hitching in your throat. His smirk forms again as he keeps talking. “I think you have..” His voice is as low as a whisper, only just grazing your ears.

“I think you’ve spent so many nights ready for me. Lying on your bed and thinking about me.. about the things I could do to you.” Jerome inches forward, moving to whisper into your ear. A shiver passes through your body as he gets closer, just inches away from his lips touching it. “I bet you sit there as soon as it hits midnight with your hands down your cute panties, dripping with the thought of me fucking you so good.” He bit your earlobe lightly, dragging his teeth across it until it fell from his mouth.

Heat traveled down your body from his words, your eyes subconsciously closing. The closer his body got towards you made you more anxious than you were just seconds before.

He moved back slightly with the same grin as before, it never faltering once. His hands gravitated towards the arms of your chair over time, it just now dawning on you. As he moves his face in front of you again, he opens his mouth, ready to speak. Before he could, you spit forward, landing directly on his tongue.

He flinched backwards, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, tasting and swallowing the saliva. His eyebrows furrow and he stares down at the ground, a conflicted look on his face.

He hums, “That was strangely pleasant.. Do it again.” Jerome quickly inches forward towards your face again with a sly smirk on his mouth. Without thinking, you throw your head directly im front of you, clashing it with his nose. He groans loudly as his head shoots back in pain. It sends a certain kind of electricity through your body, hitting straight down to your core.

He rises back up with a hysteric laugh and gushes of blood dripping from his nose. His body towers over you as he stands up straight, but quickly leaning down to your face. He grabs your chin roughly and pulls you towards his face.

“C’mon, doll. Don’t get hasty with me.” He says sternly, but there’s an underlying playful tone to his voice. He hasn’t let go of your chin as he glares at you. Seconds pass by until he finally tears his chilling gaze away from your eyes, down to your strapped down arms and legs. “Hm,” He hums and stands back up straight. He lets go of your chin forcefully, jostling your head lightly. He looks your body over once then meets your angry eyes. “You like bein’ tied up, doll?” He teases with a smile.

You huff and roll your eyes, looking away from him to try and search if there was someone else still alive that could help you. As your eyes scan over the cold floor littered with lifeless bodies, none of them were breathing. Your jaw clenches as you watch the gushing blood stream out of their once washed shirts, staining the polished ground.

“Hey, up here.” Jerome snaps his fingers and grabs your chin again. You sigh irritably and glare up at him. “Look at me when I’m talkin’ to ya, doll face.” He says sternly, lightly tapping your chin with his thumb. When he lets go, he turns around and looks around for something. You sit still, curious as to what the redhead was searching for.

Chills overrun your body when another man walks out from a shadow in the corner of the precinct. Robert Greenwood, ate a dozen women, Jim’s words made a shiver run down your spine. He always freaked you out.

“Here, bring that up here. Get a better angle of the room.” Jerome calls out to Greenwood. The older man was carrying a camera on his shoulder as he walks forward, climbing up on the desks next to Jerome.

The redhead walks towards you again as Greenwood films and zooms in on all of the dead bodies covering the floor. Once he gets close enough, Jerome smiles down at you. “Doesn’t my doll look so pretty?” He reaches down and lifts your chin up to look at him in the eye. He wasn’t necessarily asking anyone, or rather Greenwood, the question, more so just to put it out in the open. So when the other man growls inhumanely and nods in agreement, Jerome’s head snaps back to where the man holding the camera stood.

He took a deep breath before closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He didn’t plan on killing Greenwood, at least not yet. So he swallowed the harsh words he was going to yell and looked back at you when he opened his eyes again.

He leans down towards you, “I bet you’d look even prettier if I used this ropes on you a different way, hm?” He whispers, just inches away from your face. You can feel his breath on you as he talks, almost like you could feel how truthful his words were. “I knew you’d like these, Y/N. I picked them out for you.” He smiles. “I know you’ve got somethin’ hidin’ in that cute head of yours. I wonder if I’ll figure it out later.” He teases, his voice just barely there.

“I’d like to see that.” Jerome snaps up and looks over towards Greenwood. His facial expression was an emotion that was stronger than anger. It held power as he glared down at the man just a few feet away, making the older man’s smile disappear. His camera had been facing the two of you, watching the interaction.

Jerome walks slowly towards him, each step that was hitting the clean desk intimidating the both of you further. His calm demeanor was threatening as he grows closer to the other. Once he stands just inches away from Greenwood, he looks down at him with a neutral expression.

“If you ever say anything about my doll again.. you won’t even have the time to think with that tiny brain of yours. Y’wanna know why?” Jerome’s voice is serious as he glares into his eyes, making the other man shake lightly. Greenwood didn’t respond, too nervous to generate a reply. “Because you’ll be dead.”

BANG!

You flinch as you hear a gunshot go off, shutting your eyes tightly. You hear a body hit the floor roughly and you open your eyes to see Greenwood lying lifeless on the floor next to you. A gaping hole on the side of his head runs red with blood, dripping down his face to the once-polished desk. Your hands shake as you watch him grow cold, not being able to tear your fear-filled eyes away from him. The camera landed next to him, the red button still flashing as it never stopped recording.

“Sorry, baby, he was getting on my nerves.” Jerome shrugs and walks back over to you. The gun is still in his hands as he gets closer to you, crimson blood splattered across his face, matching with his bloody nose. A couple red dots stain his blue button up, hitting the collar of his shirt. He throws the gun out of his hand and onto the floor, coincidentally landing just inches away from the new dead body next to you.

“How ‘bout we get outta here, huh?” Jerome suggests. As nice as it sounded to get out of the now-morgue that was once the GCPD, it wasn’t like you had a choice either way. He puts his hands on his hips and thinks for a moment. You could tell when he stared down at the floor, looking towards Greenwood’s body.

“Ooo!” He shouts with a wide smile and leans down to grab the camera. The red button never stops flashing as time goes by, having the past, what feels like hours, all on film.

He manhandles it as the camera glitches slightly. He picks it up and points it towards his face. “Hello Gotham City! We’re the Maniax! And I’m Jerome, the.. shot-caller of our little gang.”

Jerome speaks to the camera with the same energy. He never seems to have a calm or ‘normal’ side to him, no matter if he’s in front of a camera or you. There’s only one side to him now.

Guess he isn’t two-faced anymore.

“We’re here to spread wisdom and hope!” Jerome carries on with his dramatics. He sways his head side to side while he talks, showing his enthusiasm. When he hears a slight moan from the side of him, he looks over to see a random police officer lying in pain. As he groans in pain, hoping to get some sort of attention for help, the ginger takes the gun that rested beside Greenwood and shot him. You flinch again, not because of the gunshot, but you saw that Jerome had zero hesitation to shoot the corpse. What if he does that to you?

“Some people have no manners.” He shook his head and looked at the camera disappointedly. Suddenly, he forcefully grabs it and brings it near his face quickly. “You’re all prisoners. What you call sanity.. it’s just a prison in your mind that stops you from seeing that you’re just tiny little cogs in a giant absurd machine.” He waves his hand behind him to add theatrics. You felt his energy reverberate throughout the vast room, eccentric flare capturing you attention.

“Wake up!” He screams, pulling the lens closer to him again. “Why be a cog? Be free! Like us! Just remember, smile!” He laughs, then goes serious once he realizes something. His head snaps toward you, blinking once. “Oh!” He clicks his tongue and starts walking in your direction. “Hey, Jimbo..” He says teasingly into the camera. “I’ve got my doll here with me, too.” He points the lens down towards you. It recorded you strapped down to the wooden chair, but with no sign of bruises or cuts. Jim will know, you thought. “How are you, doll face? You doin’ okay?” He smiles behind the camera, watching you through the lens. You nod, knowing that the opposite reaction wouldn’t help either of you. “Goodie!” He smiles and laughs. Bringing the camera back to him, his ears perk up at the sound of sirens outside.

“Well, time to go!” Jerome smiles wide and grabs the hat that sat beside Greenwood’s dead body. He put it on his head, making sure it was secure. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back very soon. Hang on to your hats, folks! ‘Cause you ain’t seen nothing yet!” He laughed hysterically into the camera and then shuts it off. His devilish smile never left his face as he struts up towards you again.

“Hmm.. we’re gonna have to figure this out quick, doll face.” He puts a finger to his chin, tapping lightly. His movements always seemed animated, almost like he was in a cartoon. As he stood there and became deep in thought, he managed to crouch back down to your level. “I’m gonna untie these ropes, doll. But you can’t run away and grab mommy and daddy.” His voice was low, almost in a disciplinary way. It shut you up fast, making goosebumps rise on your skin and your body grow tense. He leans forward to start untying the knots on your wrists. “You’re gonna follow me like a good girl and maybe..” He shrugs with a growing smirk on his face. “We’ll get to have some fun.”

His words put you in a trance as he speaks, a shiver passing down your spine lightly. You swallow the lump in your throat, not because you felt scared, but because of.. how attracted you felt to him right now.

“How does that sound, doll?” He smiles as he unties the last rope on your right ankle and stands back up. You dumbly nod, too focused on the way he looked at the moment. He stood tall in front of you, his long legs filling your vision from the position on the chair. You’ve come to like the sinister smile on his face, though it may give you the chills some times. His ginger hair grew brighter in the fluorescent lighting of the GCPD, showcasing the vibrant orange hue.

“Good.” He offers his hand out towards you politely. His menacing smile intimates you as he teases you gently.

“Care to join me for a walk, m’lady?”

-

Stepping foot into Theo Galavan’s house wasn’t exactly apart of your schedule today.

Walking down sidewalks and hiding in alleys on the way, wasn’t either. It was tricky trying to avoid the cops or other strangers passing by, given that you both wore GCPD uniforms and frankly, Jerome’s hair wasn’t very common in Gotham.

He made you hold his hand all the way back, saying that he ‘didn’t want to lose you.’ You weren’t sure which way to take the sentence, especially if it’s being said by a homicidal maniac. He’d squeeze your hand if someone ever got too close to you or if he heard any type of siren. He kept you close to him all the way back, either to soothe your worries or his. You weren’t sure.

“C’mon, doll face. Make yourself at home.” You’re cut out of your thoughts when you hear his energetic voice again. He smiles at you and walks towards the table in the main room. He picks at some grapes that were on display in a bowl, tearing them off the stem and throwing them up in the air and catching them in his mouth expertly.

You hesitantly wander the room, walking by the tall windows. You stop in front of one and look outside, noticing all of the police cars surrounding the precinct. Pedestrians walk to and fro, some on the phone, others talking to each other and others arguing. Seeing everything from this point of view, you noticed how sad everything looked. It was grey outside; no sun, only clouds. Smoke rose from factories into the air and sirens could be heard from anywhere in the city.

“What’cha lookin’ at, cutie?” Jerome’s voice slices the tense moment with yourself. For once, you were grateful to hear his loud tone. The blood on his face was washed off by now, the sink getting turned off just seconds before he walked over to you.

You shrug, “Outside.” You’ve learned that trying to meet Jerome’s personality level was hard, but it was worth it. To lash out or try to run away, wouldn’t be of any help. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up wanting to stay..?

He hums from behind you, slowly moving closer to you. He stood inches away from your backside, his eyes wandering the streets as well. He leans down slightly and whispers in your ear. “You seem tense, doll.” You shiver as his words pass by you and his hands start to creep up your shoulders. “What’s got you so cramped up, babydoll?” He gently massages your shoulders, hitting the perfect spots. You hold back soft moans in your throat, but your eyes flutter close against your will. He seems fine with not getting an answer.

“You like that?” It didn’t seem to be in a teasing manner, but a genuine question. You nod gently, too afraid to move too much incase he stopped. “Good.” You could almost hear the smirk on his face as he replied, inching just a little bit closer to you again.

“Y’know, when I first saw you at the circus that day,” Jerome speaks again. You had no problem listening to him as he kept touching your tense shoulders. His voice was kind of soothing. “I thought you were the prettiest little doll I’ve ever seen. I always looked at that place as some sort of hellhole, where nothing good comes out of it. But you..” He giggles. “You, doll face.. you’re somethin’ else.” He whispers and kisses your ear gently before sliding his hands down your arms. Your breathing picks up as he gets as close as possible to you now, pressing his front up against your back.

His hands mold into yours calmly, taking his time with you. He takes a whiff of your neck, your faded perfume hitting his nose. He groans softly and rests his forehead against your shoulder. He plays with your fingers without looking at them. When he lifts his head again, he leans forward and presses soft kisses to your neck.

“Let me continue. Please.” He whispers into your skin. It was almost like a plea, on the verge of begging. Your heart skips a beat and you nod eagerly, immediately falling into his touch.

He groans into your skin and grips your hips, roughly pulling you back into him. You gasp when he tugs you backwards, your head falling back on his chest. His nails dig into your hips, through the fabric of your uniform pants. His kisses on your neck never relent as he glides his left hand up your body to put under your chin. His hand cups the underside of your jaw to tilt your head away to give him more access to your neck.

Once he bites down on your skin, you flinch in surprise but you grow to like the feeling. You feel Jerome’s smirk against your sensitive skin, definitely leaving a deep mark on it. His lips hover over different spots until they lock on a certain one. When you moan gently, he smiles widely and sucks down on your skin. Your breathing gets heavy as he takes his time with your body, closing your eyes in content.

“Lets see what other noises I can get outta ya, hm?” He moves his hands away from your hip and chin, inching towards your chest. He keeps his face close to yours, as his hands unbutton a few of the top on your police shirt. You moan when he unexpectedly grabs your breasts and squeezes; not enough to hurt, but enough to make you yearn for more. Your mouth stays open in silent pleasure, still shocked at his sudden movement.

“Ooo, doll. You like me bein’ rough with ya?” Jerome smirks with a quiet laugh. “I’m not surprised. I saw the way you eyed me earlier when I untied you. I wonder what you were thinking.. hm..” He pretends to think as he gripped your boobs again, bunching up your shirt. You moan again, each surprise advance towards you shocked you. “Maybe you were wondering what it’d be like if I fucked ya, hm? Or maybe.. when I have you on your knees for me? No, no.. maybe.. when I’ll have ya beggin’ for me to touch you and play with your pretty little pussy.” Shivers go up and down your spine as electricity shoots down your body, straight to your core.

“Fuck, Jerome..” His words had an affect on you that he was very aware of. His lips curl up, forming that signature smile of his. He liked the sound of his name on your tongue, the pleading tone of your voice making his heart beat faster. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could tease you before he could touch you properly.

His right hand moves down your body quickly, straight to the waist of your pants. Without a second thought, it glides past it and feels the fabric of your underwear. He reaches down to cup it before stroking his two fingers against you. A whine erupts from your throat before you could stop it. He smirks when he feels the wet patch form under his fingers. “Already soaking. I wonder who got you this wet?” Jerome’s voice is cocky and he smiles with pride.

His fingers slip past your underwear and he immediately runs two fingers down your slit, gathering your wetness on the pads of his fingertips. He groans at the feeling and pulls his hand out of your pants, ignoring the huff that came out of your mouth. Pushing his fingers past his pink lips, sucking on the taste of you that was left on him. He moans and takes his fingers out of his mouth and puts it back on your stomach to rest there.

“Fuck, doll. I knew you’d taste good, but never in my dreams have you tasted like this.” He admits, looking down at you. Your body felt hot, whether it was from his contact or his words, it didn’t matter anymore.

Fuck, you needed him. You needed his stupid red hair, and his stupid pink lips, and his stupid body. You needed Jerome Valeska.

“Please, Jerome,” You would never go as low to beg or plead, but right now, in this moment, you felt like you could. Your head was still resting against his chest, looking up at him submissively.

He chuckles and puts his hand up to cup your jaw. “Mm, c’mon, babydoll. Let’s go up to my room. Don’t need anyone seein’ what’s mine.” He leans down and kisses you passionately, before breaking away with a teasing smirk. He grabs your hand and runs for the stairs.

Once you both make it up there, he leads you to his room and opens the door. When you walk in, you barely have time to look around until Jerome connects your lips together. He sucks on your bottom lip before licking it, wanting permission to kiss you deeper. When you playfully deny it and not open your mouth, he bites down on the soft flesh making you gasp. Automatically, your lips part and his tongue invades the space in your mouth. You don’t realize when his hand reaches up to your hair and cups the back of your head to get you as close as possible to him. He tugs your hair with force, making you pull away from the kiss. A moan escapes your throat at the sudden pressure, looking up at him, silently questioning him.

He stays quiet as he slowly lets his tight grip go. The same hand trails its way towards your jaw and lays there. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, dragging it down gently. His green eyes never leave your lips, too entranced with the way you look right now. You looked vulnerable, powerless and Jerome loved it. It was like a predator with it’s prey, stalking it down and putting it in danger. He liked the chase.

“You look so pretty like this. So vulnerable, just for me.” Suddenly, he grabs your chin and leans down to become inches away from your face. “Lay down on the bed. I told you we were gonna have some fun.” He smiles insanely and giggles. Chills erupt on your body, but as soon as he lets go of you, you immediately rush to the bed next to you.

“Y’wearin’ too much.” He grumbles and walks over to the foot of the bed. His hands reach out for your shirt, wrinkling it under his hands. You gasp when you hear a rip course through the air, seeing tiny buttons fly away. Your shirt tears in half and he throws it across the room, somewhere he couldn’t care to look right now.

Before you could say anything, he begins talking again. “Much better.” He smiles and teases his fingers around your waist, fiddling with the top of your pants. His finger hooks in it and stretches it, smirking when it slips off his finger and slapping back down on your skin. You grow impatient as he teases you, your body starting to ache for him.

“Jerome,” You were quickly cut off by him.

“Patience, Y/N.” His voice was stern as he looked into your eyes, intimidating you. Jerome didn’t even have to say the words and he would still make you nervous; the cold stare of the psychopath sending chills down your spine. You nod obediently, knowing better than to say anything.

Once he looks away from your eyes, his fingers resume walking around your pants waistline. Quickly, he hooks two fingers on either side and pulls them down. Cold air hits your skin fast, making you shiver. Jerome smiles at your reaction. He takes them fully off and throws them in the same direction as your shirt. You lie in front of him in nothing else than a bra and underwear. You felt bare in front of him, scared or unsafe. He was right, you were vulnerable in front of him, you thought to yourself.

“Relax, doll. Let me feel you.” His rough hands slide up your legs, feeling every mark or blemish under his fingertips. His hand dips with your hips and thighs, squeezing the skin. A whine emits from your throat as his nails dig into your skin dangerously. They scratch down your legs, leaving hot red lines after his torture on your body. You feel the pain sting you, but it felt good. You felt like you needed it.

“Such a naughty girl.. liking me hurt you.” His voice is taunting and playful, excited for whatever was to come next. “I bet you’re even wetter for me.” He leans down and starts kissing around your stomach, slowly trailing down. “Fuck, doll. You’re soaking your panties.” He says breathlessly, never bringing his head up to stop kissing you. He makes his way down to your thighs, occasionally sucking and biting on the sensitive flesh. He smirks when he feels your breath get stuck in your throat when he gently kisses over the top of your underwear that was covering your slit.

Pale hands glide up your thighs and towards your hips, moving them under the hem of your underwear. Before he pulls then down fully, he looks back at you and smiles, “Told ya you had cute panties.”

Your chest rises and falls faster than before as you lay before him, completely bare. You were utterly helpless in this situation and you kind of liked it. Jerome had a sense of power of you, whether it was because of his intimidating personality or because of the utter sexual magnitude he has.

He groans when he takes them off and immediately spreads your legs further. “Look at you, my little dolly. So beautiful.. all for me.” It almost seemed like he was reassuring himself that. You and your body now belonged to the insane psychopath that has murdered several people. Anyone with a brain would realize how wrong this was; how disturbed you should be, having a maniac like Jerome Valeska between your legs. But in that moment, you didn’t care. You needed him, craved him.

“Always wanted to taste ya..” He lifts your leg up to position your foot on the bed and have your knees bent. He leans forward and lightly presses his lips against certain areas on your thigh, his devilish smile never leaving his pretty face. “Thought about it every night at Arkham. Dreamt about it. Thought about how pretty you looked in your dining room.. the way I could’ve bent you over the countertop and fucked the life outta ya.” He giggles against your skin, now just inches away from where you desperately needed him. “And as good as this is gonna feel, doll face.. I can’t wait to have you on your knees for me later.”

A loud gasp reverberates through the room as he licks up your slit, tasting all of you. He groans and wraps his arms under your thighs to pull you closer to him. He never eases up on you as he eats you out with fervor. Short fingernails mark the skin on your thighs, showing everyone who you belonged to.

This is wrong. All of this is wrong. But every part of your body was screaming that it was right. You’ve never felt like this with anyone before; the insatiable need to feel him and have him feel you. It didn’t seem like the feeling would ever stop, even while he tastes you.

Unwrapping one arm from under your thigh, his right hand moves forward and starts to rub your clit. Moans and gasps fill the room entirely, a beautiful melody in Jerome’s ears. His two fingers move down, teasing you before pushing them inside you. Clenching the bedsheet in your hand so aggressively, it felt like your knuckles were going to break. It was hard trying not to inflate his ego, but the sensations he was making you feel right now were more than you could handle.

“That feel good, baby?” Even though he was still between your legs, his voice was still loud. His signature smile never left his face, too excited to change. You nod quickly, too entranced to produce any words. He hums and tickles the skin around your thigh with kisses, while still fingering you. His red hair was bright against your skin, standing out to anyone that were to look inside the room.

Curling his fingers perfectly, they hit a certain spot inside you that made your legs twitch in pleasure. A choked out moan leaves your mouth, one of your hands that was clutching the sheet moving to his long hair. You tug on it, making him groan.

“Fuck,” Jerome’s voice was breathless, too busy to talk. He bit down on the inside of your thigh, before moving back to your clit. As his fingers move faster inside you, his lips wrap around your clit and sucks lightly.

“Jerome, I’m..” No words were comprehensible in your mind, too busy on the pleasure you were feeling. The sensation went to your head quickly, the only thing on your mind being Jerome, Jerome, Jerome.

“Mm, c’mon, doll.” His lips were wet and he looked up at you with hooded eyes and his crazy smile. If you were to just see his eyes, they would’ve been threatening, and they still are with his whole face. But something about his predatory look was so attractive. “You close?” His tone was teasing, but you were too far gone to care.

Nodding quickly was your response, your back arching slightly at Jerome’s pace. Before you realized it, he stopped. Pulling out his fingers and taking his mouth away with a smirk on his face.

“What..? Jerome,” You lean up on your elbows, trying to get a better look at him. He stands back up against the end of the bed, bringing his two used fingers to his mouth. He puts them in and sucks on them before pulling them out and wiping the corner of his mouth. A shiver went down your spine at his little show, swallowing dryly. “Why did you stop?”

Before he answered, he reaches over to start unbuttoning his shirt. Discarding it somewhere else in the room, neither of you caring where it landed. Your eyes raked over his body; his broad shoulders standing strongly, his muscles moving every time he would, his abs tightening at the cold air. He looked like he was sculpted by a god, his body mesmerizing you.

“I told you, Y/N.” He leans over you, resting his hands against the bed by your body. His face was inches away from yours, his eyes boring into yours. They were scary, almost like they were threatening you. “As good as that was gonna feel, I’m gonna have you on your knees for me.” He whispered.

Suddenly, he grabs your hands and pulls you up to him. Yelping when you land on your feet, standing in front of him, his hands securing themselves around your waist. He brings you close to him, pressing his body against yours. “You ready for me, doll face?” He whispers again, leaning down towards your ear. One of his hands slides down your leg and grips the back or your thigh.

You nod, not wanting to upset him. His wide smile was disturbing in a way that you started to get used to it.. maybe even started to like it.

“Good. Because you weren’t gonna have a choice either way.” Pushing you down onto your knees with forceful hands, your legs already starting to bruise from the harsh treatment. Gasping at his aggression, but not too shocked by it. One freckled-covered hand moves for his belt, undoing it as his other rests on the back of your head. The loud noises of his belt clinking in front of you filled the room, noticing that it was better than the silence that seemed even louder.

Unzipping his fly and letting his belt and pants lie there, his hand never leaving the back of your head. “C’mon. I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do.” His voice filled your ears, already eating at your actions. Not wanting to disappoint him, you quickly reach out for his pants and pull them down with his boxers. Swallowing dryly when you see all of him, worried you weren’t going to be able to take it all.

“What, are you scared?” Jerome’s voice cut you out of your daze, immediately looking up at him. His voice was condescending, starting to get to your brain. “You can take it, don’t worry, baby.” He brushes a hand through your hair gently, before gripping it tightly making you gasp. With your mouth open, he moves forward and slides into your mouth. Choking immediately, he smirks and stands still for a moment. Looking up at him with pleading eyes, he pouts mockingly before giving in and pulling back slightly. He lets you start moving against him, starting off slow. You take your time in the beginning, never looking away from his eyes. He likes the eye contact you keep with him, still holding a harsh grip on your hair.

Getting annoying with your pace, he starts to move his hips forward, clashing with your movements. Reaching out to stabilize yourself, your hands landing on his thighs and your nails digging into his skin painfully. He groans at the sting, starting to throat fuck you harder, not paying attention to the tears that form in your eyes. His head hits the back of your throat aggressively, his hand holding you still starting to burn your scalp. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

Jerome’s eyes shut tight and he throws his head back in pleasure. His abs clenched as he kept moving, his bicep on his right arm that held you, bulging with how much strength he was using on you. It felt like he was going to pull out strands of your hair, but at this point, it didn’t even matter.

“Can you take it, huh?” Jerome’s raspy voice cut through the air, teasing you. He looked back down at you, watching a tear fall down your cheek. He groans and uses his other hand to wipe it with his thumb and bring it up to his lips to lick it. His hips never relent their abuse on your mouth, too caught up in the pleasure to realize the way he bruised the back of your throat.

Catching him by surprise when you hollow your cheeks around him, his hips stutter and he moans louder than before. “Fuck, Y/N.” His voice is breathless and it raises goosebumps on your body. “Takin’ it like the good girl you are.” His eyes lock onto yours, still moving his hips the same pace as before. When his hand manages to grip your hair even harder and his hips occasionally bucking every now and then, it signaled to you that he was close.

As much as you wanted to pull away to not give him what he wanted because of his what he did to you earlier, he wouldn’t let you move. Stilling inside your mouth as he shakes lightly, he reaches his limit and releases on your tongue. Moaning your name as he calms down, he starts to move out of your mouth. Your throat is scratchy and dry once he forces you to swallow. Your breathing was heavy as your chest rose and fell quickly, looking up at him from your knees.

His smirks widens, laughing softly while looking down at you. His hand loosens his grip and your scalp felt like it could breathe again. Slowly, he strokes your hair and moves his hand under your chin. He holds it gently, keeping you in place. “C’mere, baby.” Jerome puts his hands under your arms and brings you to your feet. Your knees are bruised badly, having to reach out to hold onto his arms tightly before your legs buckled underneath you. He laughs, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist. “You look so good, doll.” His right hand causes goosebumps in its wake as it travels up your body, sliding between your breasts and up to your neck. It rests there for a little while before starting to wrap around your throat. Your mouth opens subconsciously, giving him perfect access to run his pointer and middle finger across your bottom lip.

Your lips were swollen at this point, your mouth being molded to the shape of him. He smiles when you open your mouth just slightly wider, letting his fingers rest on your tongue. You suck on them and hollow your cheeks, watching his adams apple bob lightly. Once he pulls them out, he never takes them away and glides down your bottom lip, coating it in your spit. Bringing up his thumb, he drags the same lip down as he leans forward and meets your tongue with his. Kissing you with only the amount of passion that you weren’t sure you could even handle, sending sparks along your skin. Your hand moves behind his head, trying to push him closer to you and holding onto his hair tightly. He groans into the the mesh of lips and kisses you deeper, his hand around your throat starting to get tighter.

When he pulls away, you grab an intake of air, out of breath from the kiss and Jerome’s hand choking you. He chuckles, squeezing your throat once before letting go. His hand moves up to the back of your head and gently grabs your hair again. You sharply inhale at the pull as Jerome gets closer to you. He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “Get on the bed.” As soon as he lets you go, you follow his orders and lay back on the soft mattress. He mirrors your actions and leans his body over yours, resting his forearms beside your head. Without hesitation, he moves forward and kissed you harshly.

While you were distracted, you didn’t realize one of his hands trailing down your body. Goosebumps rise on your arms when you feel his fingers run through your folds gently. “You want it so bad, huh?” His voice is quiet against your lips, staring into your eyes. They were cold, but still had a flash of fun in them. You nodded eagerly, waiting for any sort of relief that he would give to you. “Still so wet for me.. you’re such a good girl, ya know that? Listen to me so well..” Adding more force to his fingers, your body freezing at the pressure as more heavy exhales escape your slightly parted lips. He smiles and chuckles breathlessly.

Take your hips in his hands suddenly, he grips you tight enough to leave marks as he flips himself over and sits you on his lap. You yell at the fast movement, too caught up in the way his fingers felt to realize his motive.

“Bet ya weren’t expectin’ that, were ya, doll face?” He cackles and grips your thighs strongly. You blush at his words, embarrassed having the scream escape your lips seconds ago. He raises you up your knees by moving your hips up with just enough force, your hands immediately going out to rest on his chest to hold yourself. He smiles the same smile he has been, only wider. “C’mon, you wanted it, didn’t ya?” He smacks your thigh, his dominance never leaving no matter his position.

You nod, not being able to form any words. He hums and smiles, waiting for your next move. You look down and line yourself up with him, slowly starting to sink down. He groans at the feeling as you moan from the stretch, sitting still for a moment to get used to it. “Hurry up, doll. Don’t keep me waiting.” His voice was slightly breathless, smacking your thigh again. The pleasure was getting to him as well as you started to slowly move on him. It was hard to do so, your knees still violently bruised from just minutes before.

“What, can’t do it? I thought you wanted it so badly.” His condescending tone makes you whine in embarrassment, your nails digging into the pale skin of his chest. Harsh red crescent-moon shapes painted his body, brightly contrasted with his white skin. It almost matched with his hair.

“Such a needy girl, having to make me do everything for you.” Jerome sighs and moves your hips up to pull out of you and flips your positions back over again. With you laying underneath him now and him above you, he quickly thrusts back inside you, making you cry out. He smiles widely at the noise, quickly moving his hips against yours again. He groans and never stops his pace, encouraged by your state of pleasure. You grip onto his back as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer to you. One of his hands rushes down to your thigh, holding it tightly against him.

“Fuck, doll,” His voice shakes slightly as he moans, his headboard hitting the wall behind it aggressively. The sound only spurs him on more, wanting the whole world to know what the two of you were doing. He knew this was wrong, to sleep with the enemy, but every part of his body was telling him it was all he ever needed. He would’ve done anything for you in that moment, feeling more vulnerable than he’s ever had been before. He also knew that if anyone at the GCPD were to find out about this, your job was absolutely done for. But maybe that was a good thing for him, maybe he wanted that so he can keep you to himself.

“Need you to cum, baby.” Jerome whispers in your ear, his groans filling up your hearing. The sound of skin slapping skin interrupted the once silent room, mixing with the severe clashing of the headboard to the wall.

His pace and words bring you to your edge quickly, your body almost failing when the hand that was once on your thigh, inching forward to circle your clit. Moaning loudly, your nails scratch his back, leaving dark red lines in contrast to his pale skin. He responds to the delicious pain, moaning louder in your ear. Signaling to him that you were close, he thrusts faster and harder inside you. As you arch your back in pleasure, his head leans forward and rests on your shoulder. His eyes are squeezed shut in satisfaction, his mouth open in a silent plea of arousal.

“Jerome, I..” Words weren’t put together in your mind, the only thing fogging it up was the man on top of you. He hums and nods quickly, applying more pressure on your clit.

“You’re so close, doll, I can feel it.” He bites your shoulder hard before moving up and whispering in your ear again. “C’mon, I wanna see you come. I bet you look so pretty- fuck. Squeezing me so tight. You feel so good, baby.” He rambles on, opening his eyes to watch your face. Your body starts to shake as your pent up pleasure releases and you follow his orders. He smiles while he watches you, his abs constricting as he gets closer as well. Your eyes start to close tightly, before he moves against you in a particularly hard thrust. “Look at me while you come.” He demands, and you follow through immediately.

You start to grow sensitive as he keeps moving, abruptly stopping when he reaches his peak just seconds after yours. Groaning loudly in your ear, your body shivers at the overpowering noise and he starts to calm down. Both of your chests were breathing fast as you relax from the intense feelings. Once Jerome finds the energy, he pulls out of you and falls down beside you on his bed.

“Fuck, if I knew you were that good in bed, I would’a broke out sooner.” He jokes and laughs once your reach over and slap his chest. “I’m just kiddin’, doll!” His tough arms wrap around your shoulders and bring you close to him. You both lie on each other, still trying to figure out what just happened. He inhales quickly as he starts to play with your messy hair, showing you that he was debating on talking or not.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice still scratchy.

He purses his lips and opens his mouth, internally question whether it would be a good idea or not to tell you. Finally, he makes a snap decision and gives in. “Y’know, when I was in Arkham.. I wrote about’cha in my diary.” He reveals, a soft red tint covering his pale cheeks. He immediately regretted it once he sees a teasing smile form on your face. He rolls his eyes and looks away from you.

“Jerome Valeska has a diary?” You smile and laugh softly, sitting up slightly. He groans with annoyance, unwrapping his arms around you. You grab his chin gently and make him look over at you. “Don’t be embarrassed,” You laugh. “I think it’s cute.” You shrug. Laughing more when he groans again, knowing you were pushing his buttons.

“Shut up, doll face.” He wrestles you over back into a position where you were underneath him again as he hovered over you. “Y’wanna know what else is in there?” Your breath hitches slightly as his voice drops down deeper. “Plans to take over Gotham. I’m gonna run this city, whether anyone likes it or not.” He leans over and whispers in your ear with a threatening voice, making a shiver go down your spine and chills raise on your body. “First, I’m gonna kill Bruce Wayne. And then, I’m gonna go and find my pathetic brother, put him on the tallest building in Gotham City and watch him fall down each floor until his lifeless body hits the ground.” His smile never leaves his face as he talks, showing you that he was excited for his plans. A lump forms in your throat as he speaks, your situation only coming to light now. “And I’d love for you to join me, doll.” He continues. “But that’s a conversation for another day.” He shrugs and gets up, his positive mood already resurfacing. He bends over and grabs his boxers and puts them on. “Why don’t we go see what Jimbo is doin’, huh? I bet he’s freaking out, knowing that I have little ol’ you with me.” Jerome laughs hysterically, throwing his head back.

Realization hits you like a truck as you lay there, on Jerome Valeska’s bed, coming to terms with the fact that you were stuck with him from now on. Living the life of a criminal on Gotham’s streets, forced to turn over a new leaf. You sit paralyzed, too terrified to truly believe it.

“Oh, this is gonna be so much fun, doll face.” Jerome looks back over at you, noticing your frozen position. He smiles maniacally, showing his sharp, white teeth to you.

This was going to be anything but fun…

#cameron monaghan #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #cameron monaghan x reader #jerome x reader #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska smut #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska x reader #gotham #jeremiah x reader

[peachhcs]

rainy day at the lake house

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: there’s always someone around at the lake house meaning will can never get his girl alone without someone chirping at them

2.3k words

warnings: kissing, heated make out, lowkey sub!will, implications and talk of sex but no sex actually described, hickeys, will being clingy and kind of insecure (i don’t think i missed anything) (lowkey self-indulgent but whatever)

okkk this is my first time publishing something like this & i'm lowkey nervous for the feedback/reactions so pls be nice LMAOO obviously they’re both 18/19 in this and everything is consensual! if y’all really like this i can make a pt. 2 (maybe? it will be explicit if i do tho!!) i didn’t wanna make anything too explicit for my first time posting something like this anywaysss enjoy :)

au masterlist

will didn't realize how hard it would be to get his girl alone with almost twenty people in one house. he thought maybe—just maybe—there'd be a time when someone wasn't around and he could pull samy away for an hour, but there was always someone. always. he'd turn a corner and one of luke's friends would be hanging out there, or a devil's guy perched himself in the next room making it impossible to even breathe without having someone at your side.

and when the moment did arise, everyone would just chirp at him. he'd get up to go find samy and one of the guys would make some comment leaving the poor boy red in the face and swallowed by embarrassment. will couldn't even kiss her anywhere without someone having something to say.

will smiled, lacing his arm around samy's shoulder when she found a spot next to him. the girl returned his smile, pinching his arm while the blonde leaned in for a kiss.

their lips met for a brief second before getting pulled apart by some snickering from moldy and rut. their faces flushed, samy easily brushing them off and engaging in a conversation with them. will, however, couldn't rid his cheeks of the embarrassing crimson, slowly sinking down in his seat.

the chirping never usually bothered the boy, but at this point it was getting old. why couldn't everyone just grow up and stop poking fun at him for wanting to show some affection to his girlfriend? no one ever chirped as badly at ryan and julianne, or even rutger and kayleigh. what was so different about will and samy that everyone always had something to say?

one thing about michigan was that summers were always unpredictable. one minute everyone would burn in the 90° heat for days and then the next it rained forcing everyone to get close as they curdled up inside.

every room in the lake house filled itself with people trying to pass the time. turning a corner was like a jumpscare because you had no idea who you'll see. will found himself searching for samy. she left with hannah to go do something, abandoning will on a couch with gabe, ryan, drew, and aram who took turns playing mario kart. the boy got tired of them, wanting to spend time with his girl instead.

he nodded to some of the older guys as he passed through the house, wondering where exactly the brunette wandered off to. she must've went upstairs because he didn't see her anywhere downstairs, so will started up to the second floor. he finally started hearing faint voices of what sounded like samy and hannah coming from her room. the boy gently knocked on the door, not wanting to barge into whatever they were doing.

hannah's face appeared, a small smile on her lips when she saw the tall blonde standing sheepishly before her. "look what the storm blew in," the girl joked as she opened the door wider.

"hi will," samy grinned from where she sat on her bed. a sheepish grin spread across will's own lips.

"hi," he felt relieved that he finally found her while his eyes darted across the room. something about her room at the lake house was like a time capsule because every memory held itself in there.

the two held one another's gaze before slowly glancing at hannah, hoping she'd take the hint that they wanted to be alone.

"oh, right. this is my cue to leave," hannah chuckled and quickly slipped back out the door.

samy and will shared a small laugh before the boy shuffled himself closer to the bed, eyeing the pictures spread out across the comforter.

"we got bored, so we came up here and i decided to look through all of these pictures," samy explained when she saw her boyfriend's expression.

"feels impossible to get a moment away, huh?" the boy mumbled, gaze flicking back up to the brunette. she flushed under his stare, pushing the pictures into a pile before scooting herself closer to will.

her arms carefully wrapped themselves around his shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head. will's hands quickly clasped around her wrists as he pushed his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. it felt so good finally getting a second alone.

"i guess that's what happens with twenty people in one house," samy chuckled lightly.

will turned his body into her more. the two fell back on the bed, eyes never leaving the other. samy reached out to brush away some of will's messy curls while his own hands wandered to the exposed skin of her (his) t-shirt and waistband.

"i feel like i've hardly been able to get you away for a moment. everyone's always pulling you away from me," will said almost sadly. "and when i do, someone's always got something to say about it."

maybe the boy was just a little bitter he couldn't show his affection because people chirped every time. samy laughed, pushing herself closer.

"i know, the guys are annoying aren't they? i dunno why they're like that," the girl shrugged lightly. she wasn't all too bothered by it though being so used to the teasing by now.

"they don't even do it around ryan and julianne. or rutger and his girlfriend," will continued with his annoyances.

"maybe it's just because this is the first summer we're finally actually together. everything was so different last summer as we figured stuff out. plus, the guys think they have to tease me all the time because i'm their designated little sister," samy rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"that's stupid," the blonde muttered making samy laugh again. his touches on her bare skin made a shiver go down her spine. she clearly missed will's absent touches too. he's had to restrict himself knowing someone would say something if his hands were anywhere but to himself.

"we're together now, though?" the girl tried, caressing will's cheek. he blushed under her touch, breaking a tiny smile.

"for like ten minutes until someone barges in," he mumbled in annoyance. "we can't even sleep together without someone saying something and i don't mean it in a sexual way."

the one thing will looked forward to all summer was being able to fall asleep with samy in his arms and wake up with her still there. he craved that the entire school year. her weekend visits weren't nearly enough for him and now they couldn't even fall asleep with one another without someone making a sex joke. the brunette frowned briefly.

"you know you still can, right? i can make hannah sleep somewhere else," samy said.

"that would be kind of rude of me to make you do that," will was also extremely considerate and he wasn't gonna make hannah sleep on some flimsy blow up mattress.

"no, it wouldn't. i think she'd understand. why do you care so much about what people are saying about us anyway? i thought their chirping never bothered you?" the girl searched her boyfriend's eyes.

"i dunno.. maybe i just feel i'm supposed to gain their approval? you said it yourself, you're like their little sister. i'm the boyfriend half of them haven't even met before. i don't wanna make the wrong impression.. make them think i'm not good enough or something," will finally confessed. he sat up so samy wouldn't see his expression that glued itself to her carpet.

"hey, are you scared of jack, quinn, and luke's hockey friends?" samy raised her eyebrow, sitting up and trying to get will's eyes back on her. a slight tease hid in her tone.

"i dunno. maybe?" the boy mumbled.

"baby, you've got nothing to worry about. they like you, trust me and you don't have to try and please them all the time. i know it's only like your 2nd or 3rd summer with these guys, but you'll get used to it. they just wanna be annoying because they can be and that's what they like doing. yes, the chirping is annoying, but it's in good fun and it'll start sliding off your back soon," the youngest hughes held will's face in her hands so he'd look at her. his expression softened out a bit while his smile returned to his lips.

"plus, they're gonna have to like you. you're family," the girl chuckled. will carefully pushed his forehead against hers, still smiling.

"what are you implying?" the boy teased some.

"that you're gonna be around for a long time."

with that, will pushed his lips to her cherry-stained ones. the taste was intoxicating leaving the hockey player wanting more and more. his hands drifted down to her waist while samy's tangled themselves into his hair, messing it all up again. having her lips against his own was a feeling will missed after holding himself back for days while around everyone. he knew samy felt the same with the way she sucked and nipped his lips.

things started getting heated fast. all of the pent up sexual tension blew through the air as will worked to get his shirt off. samy threw her own somewhere on the floor leaving her in her bikini top that also had will going crazy anytime he saw her in it.

they reattached their lips, samy's back hitting the bed while will hovered over her. he started moving downwards, nipping at her neck before going into the spot right below her ear that he knew she loved. a gasp escaped samy's lips as soon as will's made contact with her skin.

"i knew you'd like that," the blonde said against her skin. his hot breath had the girl squirming underneath him. "will," she half moaned half warned because she knew someone was in the room right next door.

the boy disregarded her and continued moving down. his next stop was her chest, not caring that people would see the marks. will wasn't the possessive type, but sometimes he liked people knowing what was his. his mouth moved fast, sucking hickey after hickey across samy's chest in the most visible places.

"will, people are gonna see," the girl breathed out, trying to tug his head away despite how good his mouth felt on her.

"so?" the boy quirked an eyebrow. she flushed under his stare before will went back in, adding to his growing collection.

"can i at least return the favor?" samy mumbled, wanting to mark her boyfriend up too. also because she could and didn't have to worry about fans seeing them under his uniform or something.

will hummed in response and samy took that as her cue that she could. she quickly flipped them over, not wasting a second attaching her lips to the boy's warm skin. she found his spot—in the same spot as hers—and sucked. her plump lips had will groaning in pleasure. he missed her lips on him like this.

"oh yeah, right there," the blonde hummed making samy smirk.

"good luck not getting chirped at after this," the girl teased as she drifted further down will's chest. the boy flushed.

her hot breath made will squirm. a few whimpers escaped his lips which prided samy knowing she made him fall apart like this and the fact that she was the only one who could see him in this way.

"so handsome," the girl praised, running her fingers down the boy's toned abdomen that showed off all the hard work he's put in over the years for the sport he loved.

she got dangerously close to his waistband, ignoring the bulge pressing against her thigh. her dancing fingers sent a shiver down will's spine—more whimpers falling from his lips.

"s-samy," will breathed, voice shaking a little.

"hmm?

"please—"

"please what?" the girl raised her eyebrow. she loved seeing will's scrunched up expression and the way his breathing became rigid and unsteady.

"if you keep doing that, i don't know if i'll be able to control myself," the boy got out. his eyes slid towards samy's fingers still dancing dangerously close to his waistband and where he wanted her touch the most.

"then what do you want?" samy's lips were very close to will's ear. her voice dropped, sending another shiver down his spine.

will met her gaze, pushing his head up to connect for a kiss. they melted into one another as if their lips were made for one another. will's one hand wrapped around samy's waist before slowly drifting down until he reached the waistband of her shorts. samy's one hand lost itself in his hair while the other dragged along his torso. in the next second, will's hand dropped further until he hand a handful of her ass. his action made the girl giggle and that's when her finger broke his waistband.

"we don't have to do this," samy said when she felt will tense a bit. the boy quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

"no, no, i want to. there's just..so many people here," his cheeks reddened, getting embarrassed at the idea of getting caught.

"good thing doors have locks. just gotta be quiet," the brunette grinned, pushing herself up to go and lock her door. "plus, you're the one who's loud anyway," samy smirked while will's entire face became a deeper shade of red.

"shut up," he mumbled.

samy laughed, climbing back onto the bed and straddling will's lap. his eyes were on every part of her, admiring the work he did as his thumbs made small circles across her thighs.

"also, if they do hear us, i'm sure they'll never let either of us live it down."

that made both of them laugh as samy dipped her head back down to reconnect their lips. will couldn't be happier that today turned into a rainy day.

#samy x will #hughes!sister x will smith au #will smith hockey #boston college #boston college hockey #samy hughes #umich hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #will smith fluff #will smith smut #will smith hockey smut #will smith hockey fluff #uofmichigan

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series. (this will likely be about 3 parts)

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut, angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory

to death we dance - salem's heir • the flower duet - sabine devieilhe & marianne crebassa

“You were nearly late, miss,” one of the butlers murmured in your ear. “The music’s just started.” 

“There is a quote about being fashionably late, isn’t there?” you mused, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the steps. 

It was a banquet for your father’s business, a celebration of having struck gold (oil) and turning a huge profit. Or, in your words, an excuse for the high and mighty to get plastered and dance the night away. Your fist clenched upon the train of your dress– a lovely evening gown in eggshell white, with hand embroidered lilacs and lavender petals on it, spindling up your bodice like a trellis. Your usually somewhat unruly hair was tamed into a braided and pinned up-do, with an expensive broach poked into the bun of hair in the shape of a falling wisteria branch. 

Your father was the first to greet you, peeling away from the gaggle of portly oil barons. He kissed your cheek. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. A vision in purple, I must say.”

You smiled back at him. “Yes, well, you all but wringed my arm to get me to attend– and you shall hold up your end of the bargain… right?” you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes. 

He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I will send your manuscript to the publisher– the editor in chief is here tonight, if you’d care to mingle. Amongst… many other eligible bachelors, I might add.” 

Your father had spent the better part of the last three years gently trying to pair you up with a suitor for marriage. He was a patient man, as he had droned on about so many times before, but his patience was waning. You were twenty-one years old, and apparently, that was a ghastly sight– to be twenty-one and unmarried with no promising prospects. 

Of course, you couldn’t care less. You were more focused on finishing your manuscript in that time– you had a knack for writing and reveled in works of fiction that tended to lean to the darker sides of things. It had finally reached a point you were somewhat happy with, and had convinced your father to chat up his well connected colleagues so you may be able to send the first draft to a publisher.

The price for that, however, was to entertain suitors. At a gala. Dressed and primped like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was all so dreary to you– the ladies stared at you and whispered, citing you as the dreary one. 

Breaking away from your father with a tiny smile, you began to mingle– as well as you could, anyhow. You were awkward and a bit sheltered and it showed. However, once you said who your father was, dollar signs would flash in the eyes of the men you were speaking with, and they would push forward in the conversation. You weren’t ugly by any means and could become a good wife to some young entrepreneur– but you didn’t want that.

You were about fed up with it all three hours later, your nails clinking against the glass of champagne you were nursing for the better part of thirty minutes. Your look of slight annoyance managed to stave off any other wanton suitors– until another man approached you. You had exchanged some glances with him during the night, but you didn’t recognize him. He was tall, exceedingly taller than any of the other men there. His blonde hair, so pale it was almost white in hue, was cinched at the nape of his neck in a clean ponytail, falling between his shoulder blades. He was in a custom-fitted three piece black and green suit– you could tell from how perfectly it was hugging him, in all the right places.

A familiar heat came to your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to you with an intent in his pale blue eyes– eye? One of them, you noted as he came closer, was slightly off-color from the other and moved a bit slower. Likely fake, you thought. The light casted over the planes of his face, chiseled as it was, illuminating the slightly raised, puckered skin near the fake eye in a distinctual scar. He looked just like the perfect inspiration for a protagonist in one of your novels– or mayhaps an antagonist. He seemed to skim the line between the two in appearance alone.

Curious.

“My lady,” he greeted as he finally broke the air of silence between you, his arms placed behind him in a very calculated manner. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked then, a brow perked. His accent wasn’t American– that you knew for certain– likely something European. 

“As much as I can, sir,” you responded coolly, despite being caught slightly off guard by his sudden and overwhelming presence– a dark cloud in a perfectly tailored suit. “I hope that the…” you cleared your throat, trying to sound a little more confident than you likely were. “The… event is to your liking.” you mustered a smile, diverting your gaze to your champagne, hoping there may be the secrets to being a good conversationalist somewhere within the bubbles.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. It caused a shiver to go up your spine. “The event is well and fine, my lady. Are you… the proprietor of the gala tonight? I wouldn’t expect a beautiful thing such as yourself to plan something like this.”

You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. He was complimenting you and insulting the party at the same time. “No– I am not. I’d never choose such… dreary musicians for an event like this. They’re playing for a wake rather than a party– that would be my father’s doing.” you slipped it into the conversation, that this was your father’s party, trying to gauge if this handsome stranger was after what all of the others were.

Surprisingly, his expression, smooth and cool with the barest hint of a smile perking at his naturally upturned lips, didn’t change. “Dreary,” he repeated, “Melancholic, gloomy, monotonous, vapid– all good words to describe the state of affairs.”

“You have quite the expansive vocabulary, Mister…” your voice trailed off, an inadvertent way to ask for his name.

“Targaryen– Aemond Targaryen. And you?” he reached his hand out to shake yours – how incredibly formal– as you returned your own name with a wide-eyed stare.

“Targaryen. As in… the ancient bloodline? Descended from dragons, close to royalty, Dragonstone estate Targaryen?” you asked, mouth slightly agape. From what you knew of them, they were as close to the height of English royalty, real royalty, as there was in the current year, 1902. Their wealth alone, minus all of the titles, made your father’s look like a pissant trust fund. 

“The very same. You’re familiar with my family?”

“Ehm– familiar, more so I’ve heard of you all. Your family’s name comes up quite often in my father’s social circles. And I am quite nosy.”

“And what do you think?”

“About… your family? Mr. Targaryen–” 

“Call me Aemond.”

“Aemond– I don’t really know much besides the height of your prestige– and your family’s estate, Dragonstone. My father brought me back some photographs of it from his trips over the pond. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Your father brought you pictures of our home?”

“N-not just yours! I collect photographs of old estates, mostly ones from Europe. I like to use them for inspiration for my… stories. I’m a writer– a novice, mostly.”

“A writer? Have you published anything I might know?” 

“Oh, God no–” you laughed, covering your face slightly with your hand. “I’ve not yet been published. I actually sent my manuscript to… or will be sending one to a publisher soon. Hopefully.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked then, leaning a bit closer to you as if he was actually enjoying conversing with you. “Romance? Children’s fables?” he teased softly, his one eye gleaming. He was quite handsome, you thought.

“I like horror– mysteries, gothic fiction. I’m quite enamored with the… macabre and weird,” you admit. “I hope that doesn’t frighten you.” 

Aemond grinned, his teeth shining, canines pronounced against his thin lips. “Oh, yes, it does frighten me. But, all good horror stories should frighten their readers, yes? I expect you’re a fan of Vampyre? Perhaps Dracula?” 

“Both are good. My favorite, however, is Frankenstein. Mary Shelley is a genius. The Castle of Otranto is also wonderful and the pioneer of the genre. I remember trying to read it when I was younger and being scared of the dark hallways at night. Later on in life, those dark hallways enthused me enough to write about them– hence my… fascination with old houses.”

“Old homes certainly do have their fair share of secrets, don’t they?” he paused, straightening his lapel slightly before leaning back in towards you. “And do you believe what they say? That Mary’s husband wrote it and published it under her name?”

Your brows knit together in slight irritation. “Of course not. Why would he need to do such a thing? I hope you don’t mind me saying, but men already have enough advantages as is– publishing under a woman’s name instead might be considered a disadvantage.”

“Will you be publishing under your own name?” 

You blinked, taking a sip from your champagne. It was something you considered and went back and forth upon. “I haven’t decided. I have a pseudonym ready just in case.”

“Do tell– so I know what name to look for on the shelves within a year.” 

God, was he ever charming– and without even trying, really. He was well-spoken with a voice that was soft and almost whispery. It made butterflies bubble in the pit of your stomach– now that was a feeling you weren’t familiar with. “Dorian Gray.”

“Cheeky woman.” he mused. “Fancy a dance, Miss Gray?”

“... I suppose I could be swayed.”

–

Your dance together, to say the least, was a success– it started month’s worth of courting after. Aemond took you on the most splendid nights out, wining and dining you like you were a gorgeous, interesting debutante. It was exhilarating to say the least and made you feel… truly wanted– especially since his family was exceedingly wealthy, your father’s wealth couldn’t have attracted him. 

He took you to the theater, out to wondrous restaurants, and bought you various gifts like jewelry, writing supplies and outfits to wear when you went out.

It all felt very much like a dream to you– something beyond your usual, weary routine that had hardly ever changed since your mother died when you were eight years old. You’d recused into yourself then, the dark hallways that scared you so fiercely just before her death now seemed welcoming. You thrived in the dark, like a moth. 

But now, you felt something more akin to a butterfly, bathing in the sun’s light. 

It wasn’t a great surprise when Aemond asked your father for his blessing to marry you. Your father, who had harped you for years to get married, was suddenly apprehensive. 

He pulled you aside, arm around you. “Do you like this boy, dear?”

“Y-yes, father– very much so.”

“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. I’m not exactly keen on letting my only daughter go off with… some man–” 

“He isn’t just some man, father! He’s a Targ–” 

“Don’t interrupt,” he chastised firmly. “I’ve had my people look into his family further– it’s a whole mess, issues with succession, backstabbing, incest, the whole nine yards,” he took a measured breath. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about… Aemond. But… you’d be so far away. You’d be off living in the annals of England, a whole boat’s ride away.”

“This is what you wanted, father! For me to marry, for me to be happy! This is the happiest I’ve been in… so long. You must see that?”

The creases in your father’s forehead relaxed as he regarded you for a long moment, before turning to Aemond, who was waiting patiently off to the side. He let go of your shoulder and walked to your beau, staring at him sternly. “Will you treat her right? Give her everything she deserves and more?”

Aemond perked up slightly, rubbing the side of his forefinger with his thumb in a seemingly nervous gesture. “Of course, sir. I’ll give her everything I have and more. She will be regarded as a Lady– the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall, and she wouldn’t be treated with any less respect than a Lady deserves.”

Your father’s gaze narrowed, taking it all into careful thought. “... very well. You have my blessing, son. But, one whiff of even a tear from her eye on your account, and your nads are forfeit. I may not be as well-off as your family, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places.”

– 

The marriage was a quick affair, as your father, and now Aemond, knew you had no patience for pomp and frills. Aemond gave you a beautiful ring with an absolutely gigantic sapphire inlaid in the center, citing it as a family heirloom from centuries past. Your father saw you off onto the boat, bawling his eyes out. You’d never seen your father cry– not once. 

As husband and wife, you both agreed to wait to celebrate your wedding night until you arrived in England at his family’s estate to your marital bed.

The trip overall was a little under a week’s time upon a luxurious liner, where you both enjoyed champagne and each other’s company. You craved your husband, and he craved you in the same, but you each wished to keep your agreement intact. But it was increasingly hard, as you held one another close each night and his need for you was clearly pressed to your lower back.

Dragonstone Hall was a few hours' carriage ride north of the port and was nestled upon a high-ridged cliff. It was as gorgeous as the pictures had depicted, even moreso. It was ancient, imposing against the skyline and mingling to the clouds, where sea birds and ravens alike swirled above the towering watch towers that were supported by stone walls with vines grasping to them like lifelines. 

It was gorgeous, gothic and most definitely haunted– a perfect place for a woman of horror such as yourself. 

Aemond helped you out of the carriage, a hand placed upon your waist as he guided you beyond the gates. Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the scenery like a breath of fresh air. Tears threatened to spill over suddenly, as you were just overwhelmed with everything going on. You were married to someone you loved, who loved you– and were the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall. 

“Something wrong, my love?” Aemond whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your lobe.

“N-no– I’m just… very happy.”

He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, clearing your vision. You glanced up at one of the windows on the third story of the castle. Someone was staring back at you.

A lady. Her hair was red, her skin almost translucent. 

You must’ve been imagining it, surely. Looking to another window, another visage appeared.

Another– this time with dirty blonde hair, her blue eyes ghastly and bloodshot. She was practically see through. 

You pressed closer to Aemond, blinking profusely– it must’ve been the exhaustion from the nights on the boat catching up to you. Once you rubbed your eyes, you looked back; the figures were gone. 

As you approached the main door of the estate, another face caught your eye. 

Another woman– with dark hair and sullen, emerald eyes. They pierced through you like two heavy jewels, making goosebumps prickle atop your arms. She wasn’t ghastly or undeathly like the other two, and when you rubbed your eyes, she was still there.

She was still there, very much a living person in the flesh, with flowing blood and a beating heart. And she was beautiful.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #beware the sapphire peak #alysmond #alys rivers #alys rivers x aemond #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers x reader x aemond targaryen

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick? 

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson. 

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization. 

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses. 

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room. 

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip. 

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow. 

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair. 

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast? 

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered. 

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind. 

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window. 

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes. 

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge. 

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword. 

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight. 

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air. 

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night. 

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.” 

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you. 

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin. 

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass. 

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal. 

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact. 

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time. 

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie. 

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration. 

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside. 

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful. 

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost? 

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins. 

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less. 

Your own family had never been so generous. 

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity. 

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat. 

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.” 

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.” 

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night. 

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned. 

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?” 

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.” 

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges. 

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees. 

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?” 

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.” 

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.” 

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground. 

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets. 

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other. 

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched. 

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down. 

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly. 

Relentlessly. 

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding. 

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion. 

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.” 

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh. 

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.” 

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight. 

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain. 

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?” 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?” 

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?” 

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests. 

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist. 

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.” 

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily. 

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.” 

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.” 

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about. 

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies. 

You’d be found out in no time. 

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?” 

Can and not do. 

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals. 

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that. 

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips. 

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?” 

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past. 

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains. 

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you. 

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge. 

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?” 

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.” 

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief. 

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences. 

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools. 

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron. 

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds. 

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes. 

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers. 

There was no running from this. 

“Okay,” you whisper.

TAGS:

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#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 2022 #x female reader #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #mw2 soap #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #john mactavish x reader #johhny soap mactavish #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #cod x female reader

[impala-dreamer]

Wonderstruck

A Magical Short Story

~ Attending a wedding alone is rarely fun. Add to it a bunch of people you don't know all hidden behind masks, things can get a little shaky. But sometimes, if you're lucky, magic can happen...~

Henry Cavill x F!Reader

3,160 Words

Warnings: Nothing but romance and magic and fluff and mystery!

A/N: Yes, it's me. No, I have not been kidnapped. This was written in part for my personal goal of branching out a bit, but moreover as a Valentine's gift for @mariekoukie6661 and @kittenofdoomage <3

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Her dress was sleek and as dark as midnight; her heels were high and deadly. Her lips dripped with crimson; a silver mask hid beautifully sad and strikingly painted eyes.

She kept to the edges of the ballroom, ducking behind round tables clad in expensive linens and gold inlaid china, skirting billowing gowns as they spun on the dancefloor. She slipped in and out of the shadows with a slowly emptying champagne glass pinched delicately between two fingers.

Despite her annoyance in being there, she could not deny the beauty of the night. The massive room was decorated in glamorous gold and pearl accents. Heavy velvet curtains hung over the windows on each wall, letting in a glimpse of the moonlit garden outside. The floors were marble that had been polished to perfection, and a warm candlelight glow illuminated the room.

It felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

A fairy tale about a sad girl watching the party from afar, alone but for the bubbles in her glass.

Which, sadly, were now gone.

Y/N sighed heavily and looked across the dancefloor at the long bar that stretched across the back wall of the ballroom. A hundred guests in suits and gowns, feathers and masks, twirled in front of her, blocking the path. Silently, she weighed the pain of entering the waltzing throng over going another moment without a healthy buzz in her head. She took a breath. She took a step.

Her heels clicked rhythmically as she laid her course for the bar. She kept her eyes on the goal, carefully maneuvering through the dancing couples, wondering if they’d all been to some class she hadn’t been invited to. All their steps seemed identical; all the women spun with the same flourish. She shook her head. Life should never be so choreographed.

After nearly tripping over a dragging tail of taffeta, Y/N finally made it to the bar and braced herself on the top. As she caught her breath, a deep but soft laugh hit her ear.

She turned toward the sound and spied a large man leaning on the bar a few feet away. He turned as she did, leaning one elbow on the bartop and kicking a long leg over the other. His tuxedo was immaculate and perfectly tailored; his shoes shined like the stones below. He wore a mask of black with silver adornment, and two crisp blue eyes scanned her form from beneath. She could feel them sneak down her body, lingering a bit in the deep curve of her waist and at the globe of her ass.

She cleared her throat, drawing his eyes up to hers.

“Something funny, Slick?” she asked, lips pursed in clear annoyance.

The man grinned. His lips were full and pink beneath a thin scruff of a beard.

“I liked your dance,” he said in reply.

She was startled by his accent - elegant and somehow too perfectly English, as if he were pretending to be from across the Atlantic. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure him out.

It was nearly impossible. The masks were a problem.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why, but she felt that he needed to work a little harder to get her attention. Maybe she was bored, maybe the shock of his voice had her aflutter. Whatever it was, she turned up the sass.

“Yeah, well, I was a ballerina in a past life.”

Again, he laughed. A little louder, a little more enticing.

“I can see that. Prima ballerinas often trip over themselves and end up slamming into tables.”

She bit back a laugh and turned back to meet his gaze. “We take a special class for that.”

The man cocked his head towards her champagne flute. “And with an empty glass, no less.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at my job.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bar and took a step closer. “May I buy you another?”

Her eyes slid up from his shoes to the loose, curly mop of black hair atop his head. He was tall and broad, and looked as solid as a statue. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m pretty sure it’s free,” she teased.

He stopped a foot from her side. “Still…” With a quick snap of his fingers, he called for the bartender and ordered them both another round.

“A dirty martini, Mr. Bond?” She smiled at his order.

“Shaken, not stirred,” he replied, lifting his glass.

His smile was as intoxicating as the golden liquid in her glass and butterflies swirled in her stomach.

Each took a sip, swallowing slowly with their eyes locked. The blue crashed over her and Y/N lost herself in the sparkle of his smiling gaze.

Worried that she was staring too hard, she tore herself away and let out a hard breath.

“So… how do you know the bride?” she asked, trying to pry his identity free.

He licked a drop of vodka from his lip. “I don’t.”

She laughed gently. “Wedding crasher, huh?” She leaned closer, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in.”

He moved in even closer. A warm scent pulsed off of him, flooding her senses with leather and vanilla and something she couldn’t place. Something spicy that made her mouth water so much she forgot that she was supposed to be playing hard to get.

“That’s kind of you,” he whispered. “I don’t think Charlie will press charges though.”

She smiled. “Ah, you’re on the groom’s side.”

“And you?”

His eyes fell to her lips and Y/N’s cheeks burned.

“I, uh… I work with Chloe, the- the bride.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Charlie and Chloe,” he said with a light laugh. “So many Cs.”

He was too cool, too confident yet sweet. She almost hated him.

“Who are you?” she asked, confused and irked. She had not come to the wedding to meet anyone, let alone a gorgeous, blue-eyed Brit, who may or may not actually be British.

Another slow sip guided her eyes back to his lips and she wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“Henry,” he said softly.

She laughed. “Of course you are.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because of course your name is Henry. With your perfect accent and your sexy tuxedo…”

He stood up, suddenly towering over her, and tipped his head, eyes swiping over her again.

“And what about you? You’ve got to be called Celeste or Audrey or something classic and elegant.”

Y/N drained the rest of the champagne at the bottom of her glass and stood to face him properly. “Well, Prince Charming, why don’t you just call me Cinderella.”

Henry reached for her hand and she gave it jokingly.

His kiss was no joke, landing softly on her skin and making the rest of her shiver. She held her breath and nearly fainted when he looked up.

“Pleased to meet you, Cinderella.”

Her head swam a bit and she wondered if that was what swooning was.

“Charmed,” she said with a dreamy smile.

He held her gaze, swept a warm thumb over her knuckles. His touch was like fire and she wanted to run. Away from him or into his arms - she couldn’t decide. All she knew was that there was magic in the air and she could not seem to tear herself away from the mystery of his face. His eyes were tragically beautiful, as if she was lost at sea on a broken raft, thirsting and alone, but she had the comfort of the blue waves to keep her safe. She thought herself insane. He was just a man in a mask at a fancy wedding. Just a tall, impossibly fit, perfectly dressed man at a masquerade ball. A deliciously gorgeous man who smelled like drinking in front of a roaring fire in a cozy library filled with old books in some ancient castle in Scotland. A man who was still holding her hand and her gaze, stealing too many moments and breaths from her day.

Y/N shook herself and pulled her hand from his.

“I should… go…” She turned toward the room. She had to get away, had to free herself from the captivating stranger and return to ignoring her coworkers and the bride’s overly friendly family. “It was nice to meet you, Henry.”

His frown nearly cracked the earth beneath her feet.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he pleaded. “I… Well, I don’t really know anyone here and you’re…”

She looked back over her shoulder as he hesitated. “Yes?”

He blushed and sought comfort in his shoes. Such a beautiful sight: a strong, confident man instantly melting into shyness.

Blue eyes looked up. “Beautiful and enchanting and… I was hoping that we could dance.”

She nearly fell over, knocked out by his voice and charm. A quick breath steeled her nerves. “Sadly, I cannot.”

He stood up fully but somehow still seemed small. “Dance with me?”

“Dance at all,” she corrected.

He laughed. “Well, how about another drink and some conversation?”

With a sigh, Y/N looked back at the crowd, into the sea of indistinguishable masks and unfamiliar forms. Giving in, she nodded politely and spun around to the bar.

They ordered another round and took up residence at the end of the counter, half hidden in shadow, invisible to the other party-goers. Music soared above their heads but they could barely hear it, so engrossed in each other’s stories.

They spoke of simple things- movies they’d loved as children and that well-worn paperbacks were still tucked into their bookcases. She asked him about home and he talked about the London traffic and how he preferred to stay around the house on rainy days playing games on his PC. He poked her about work and she glossed over her job, insisting that they keep the conversation light and free from day-to-day struggles. They drank and laughed and fell even deeper into each other’s gaze.

It was strange to have a conversation with a stranger in a mask. She knew that he was handsome- his eyes were brilliant, his lips perfectly plump. His jaw was tight and his neck was thick. He was big and sturdy, yet gentle and bashful. Though most of his face was hidden, she knew he was perfect.

Perhaps a little too perfect.

But as the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, Y/N couldn’t find a reason anymore to run. The night had cast a spell around them and there was no escape. There was magic in the gilded accents around the room, in the symphony of violins that danced above their heads, in their true smiles and tentative touches.

Even if he wasn’t perfect, she thought, the moment was.

And the moment was suddenly broken.

A firm hand on her wrist dragged Y/N from her place at the bar and onto the dancefloor. The bride would not be ignored and refused to take no for an answer. Pained by the intrusion and the demand, Y/N reluctantly took Chloe’s hands and twirled her around. The skirt of the massive wedding dress billowed like a cloud around Chloe’s small frame and Y/N laughed as she was nearly caught up in the fabric.

Heart racing and smile wide, she turned back to Henry but was shocked to find his place empty. Their glasses sat abandoned on the bar and Prince Charming was nowhere to be found. She felt a tug in her chest and a dampness behind her eyes.

Before she could shrug it off as just a random encounter and push his blue eyes from her mind, a tap on the shoulder made her gasp.

She spun on the spot and found him there with a sweet smile and open arms.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, dipping into half a bow.

Excitement rushed through her and Y/N bit her lip. “I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”

Unwilling to let her back away, Henry scooped her up and held her close, one hand capturing hers and the other pressing gently into the small of her back. He leaned in and teased his lips at her ear.

“Then let me lead…”

His fingers pulsed against her back, guiding her to move against him. They turned a few times until she was dizzy in his arms, laughing as he whispered into her ear:

“Left… right… back… you’ve got it…”

His breath on her skin was like a gust of summer air, warm and delicious, flooding her body with calm.

“See? You’re not too bad at this.”

Y/N looked up into his eyes and felt the world fade away. They rose up together off of the dancefloor, floating gently above the other guests, impossibly alone in the crowd. She knew she was drunk, knew she’d pay for it in the morning, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t care that her friends were watching, probably whispering about the mysterious man she was dancing with. She didn’t care that she’d twice stepped on his toes or that there was no way she could hide the fact that being so close to him wasn’t turning her into a melted, lustful shell of what she usually was.

The music crescendoed and Y/N held her breath. Henry dipped his chin, blue eyes locked on her hers. The world slowed down, the seconds stretched on forever. She closed her eyes, savored his exhale against her lips. His hand slid gently up her back, fingers wove through her hair. She felt her legs grow weak, her stomach tensed, her heart skipped. He took a breath.

The band stopped short and Y/N startled as the crowd shited. The moment was gone, ripped away once more by the party swelling around them.

A rush of silk; the click of hundreds of heels. Cheers rose throughout the room as a giant cake was rolled out onto the dancefloor. It towered up to the ceiling with beautiful rows of white creme roses and pearls strategically placed to make the fondant glow in the warm light trickling down from the chandelier above.

As the guests closed in, Y/N was pulled out of Henry’s arms and her heart ached as he once again was out of her sight.

Black suits swarmed around her, heavy gowns brushed against her legs. Voices rang loud. Bodies closed in on all sides.

Breathless, she spun, searching for an exit, for a way to push through the throng.

A hand appeared and reached for her. She clasped his fingers and Henry raced toward the big doors to their left, pulling her free of the mob.

They tumbled out into the cool air and found relief as the doors closed behind them, blocking the music and the excitement, leaving them alone in the night.

The garden was dark but magically aglow with warm, golden light. Fairy lights twinkled around them, strung from bushes and topiaries, highlighting a stone path. Beyond, a labyrinth of tall evergreen waited for curious souls to venture inside, daring the branches to keep them from reaching the end.

Wonderstruck by the evening- the dramatic escape, the music, the champagne and Henry’s crystalline eyes- she stumbled. One single step turned her ankle and the deadly heels she never wore took her down.

Her gasp tore through the garden, but Henry was there to catch her fall. She swung in his strong arms and her fear turned to laughter.

“This is just absurd!” she said, steadying herself with a palm over his chest.

Henry was calm and stable, easily holding her upright. “What’s that?”

“I mean… You literally just swept me off of my feet.” She shook her head and with a blushing smile, pushed away. “This is getting silly.”

Away from his grasp, she teetered again and Henry took her hand before disaster could strike.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment,” he suggested, nodding towards a stone bench not far away. “Those shoes are dangerous.”

“You have no idea.”

She let him help her to the bench and watched in awe as he fell to one knee. Like an actual Prince Charming, he took Cinderella’s ankle in his hands and gently ran his fingers over the thin strap holding the shoe in place.

“You’re not swollen,” he reported. “That’s good.”

When he looked up, concern fading from his eyes, she gave up trying to suppress the enchantment of the night and took a deep breath.

Hands cupped around his face, she leaned in and finally met his lips.

Startled but delighted, Henry pushed up to meet her, taking her once more in his strong arms and kissing her properly.

Tiny lights flickered in the breeze, soft music seeped out into the garden, and Prince Charming and Cinderella found each other in the dark. Lips hungry and hands wild; heat mixing between them like a budding fire.

When the clock struck twelve, it chimed loudly and they broke apart, laughing.

“Seems about right,” she joked, looking towards the wedding. “Party ends at midnight.”

Henry dragged a thick finger over her collarbone. “Does that mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin and disappear?”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know when the last time you read Cinderella was, but… no.”

He licked her taste from his lip. “So you don’t need to go then?”

Her smile fell. “I do…”

“You could stay…” He dipped his chin and looked up through the mask, blue eyes dark in the light. “We could… find a spot-”

Y/N shook her head and reached for his hand. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to be back in the city tomorrow for work.” She lifted his fingers to her lips and left him with a final kiss.

Henry sighed. “Pity.”

She nodded and gathered her strength to stand and do what she should have done hours ago- run. Except this time, she was certain she meant it to be into his arms. Only this time, she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

Quickly, she turned, carefully stepping back onto the stone path and away from the mystery man with his intoxicating voice and perfectly engrossing kiss.

He stood and called to her, desperate for one more look at his Cinderella.

“Wait-”

She paused, hand on the big glass door, heart in her throat. “Yes?”

“Don’t I even get to know your real name?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “It’s Y/N.”

Henry bowed his head in thanks and when he came up, the mask came off, slowly revealing a face she’d only imagined in her dreams.

He blushed at her shocked stare and laughed gently.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She sighed, blissful and lost in a dream that she prayed would last the rest of her life.

“You too…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #fluff #romance #one shot #maybe more if it goes well i have ideas

[vulturv0lans]

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.”

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© vulturv0lans 2023, do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

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

[yestrday]

ouh oh eyeing the making them beg prompt RESPECTFULLY. not sure if the prompts are towards the chara or by them but if it's the first one.... blade and/or dan heng, maybe? holy moly when prideful/quiet men beg 🫣

no pressure pookie! i love ur works btw 🤍

ooh i do love me some bladie q(≧▽≦q) even if i do find him hard to write. dan heng was also supposed to be included but i accidentally published it :((

part of an ongoing event!

╰┈➤ BLADE of the Stellaron Hunters.

only metal bars separate the two of you in this musty dungeon cell, and they shake ferociously when your prisoner grabs them and bares his teeth at you between the gaps.

"you really think these trifling things will stop me from laying a hand on you?" from the shadows, his crimson gaze seems to be devouring you like he's the one watching the prison from the outside looking in. "you think anything can keep you safe from me, lamb?" he laughs lowly. "you're as naive as you look."

"not as naive then if i'm the one who has you locked up," you hum, twirling they key languidly around your finger as you shoot him a haughty smile. "we're destiny's slave, bladie. not slaves to our whims. you should've thought better before you went about attacking me."

he keeps quiet, but he continues to gaze at you with a look between obsession and hatred. little thought went into his actions when he tried for your neck with his broken blade. but you had been working with him and kafka for some time now, and it was agonizingly tantalizingly how clear his head felt at your slightest touch. it was a medicine better than kafka's whisper.

you must know the effects you have on him, from how you always smile and lean in for a touch before pulling away at the last second. you must have known how crazy you've had him for you, and it would have hurt his pride, had he not been reduced to a rabid mutt itching to get a pet from his master.

"i think i know what you want," you smile at him, leaning in close to the bars till he can feel your breath mingling with his shallow pants. "poor thing, the mara must be torture for you." you let your fingers trail over the space between his brows and — ah, there it is, that lightheaded feeling that he's been drunk on these past months. like floating through space, like death hath come, like peace at long last— till you pull away with a teasing smirk and the weight of a thousand hundred years comes crashing down on him again.

no. impossible. why would you take away heaven after he's finally had a taste? you bite back a laugh at the tortured expression on his handsome features, before they curl into cruel smile.

"beg." because of course you'd say that. aeons were never benevolent. why should heaven and its master be?

"... lease..." blade mumbles, pride choking his own words as if he hadn't been living without dignity all these years. "please, [y. name]. i need it. this thing you're doing to me..." he raises his head, and though remnants of bitterness light aflame at the back of his eyes, you see more of the broken man that he actually is. "whatever it is, i need it. badly."

your hand cups his chin and tilts it back to get a good look at his handsome face. sweet, sweet euphoria blooms in his mind, that blank feeling overwhelming every scream and torture that had taken over his mara-infected mind. that blissed out blank look, paired with a gaped and panting mouth, is too beautiful.

"how badly?" you whisper, though blade can barely register your words.

"more than i need death itself."

that's more than enough for you. sweetly, like a lover and not a master, you kiss him through the metal bars. you give him pleasure that has his whole body weak, and he slumps into the bars, kissing you back like he never wants to pull away.

at the back of his mind, he thinks of how this was the start of a worse torture than mara. because now that he'd gotten a slice of your heaven, every second apart from you would be worse than hell.

#yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr #honkai star rail #hsr blade #yandere x reader #yester.writes #yester.events

[1800-beomgyu]

thursday's child: txt series

THURSDAY'S CHILD - a yandere txt series

Put that nail in the coffin over the word forever You completely changed me when I was fragile

tw: afab! reader, yandere! txt, dubcon, noncon, stalking, obsession, violence, bullying, mentions of murder, profanities, mentions of abuse and gaslighting, kidnapping, assault, manipulation, panty stealing, peeping tom, vomit, blood, knife-play, more warnings to be added, mdni, read at your own discretion

note: i lied when i said i was gonna release that fratboy!jake i have sitting in my drafts for about a month ;(, i just need to get this unhinged idea off my head before i become slave of nursing school

note (2): with that being said being a slave to monday to saturday classes > slow updates, but definitely going to publish yeonjun when i can!

note (3): i hope you'll enjoy this monstrosity of a fic @itgirlgyu us and our love for unhinged men. also, @hyewka sorry for the sudden tag but i was heavily inspired after reading your yandere! gyu aaa luv ur sexy brain

soobin: a scar on my chest gone bad

a prisoner and a lover.

yeonjun: slash my heart then gone dead

yeonjun was willing to stain his hands crimson only for you.

beomgyu: who you knew that good boys gone bad now

the angel faced demon who was willing to make your life a living hell.

taehyun: good boy gone bad

the man clad in black, a boogeyman after you.

hueningkai: so sweet is this shut-eyed night of despair

a blood tinged rose in exchange for his favorite laced undies of yours.

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt imagines #yandere txt #txt x you #txt x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun yandere #soobin smut #soobin yandere #beomgyu smut #beomgyu yandere #taehyun smut #taehyun yandere #hueningkai smut #hueningkai yandere #tomorrow x together