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criminalamnesia · 3 months

Note

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

7K notes · View notes

azrielhours · 11 months

Text

Soft Spot

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: Azriel is very particular about his lovers; typically hard-hearted women chosen so they don’t develop an emotional attachment. Reader is one of these lovers, except she’s the sweetest and cheeriest on his roster. This causes Az to begin breaking his rules about intimacy, especially when she unwittingly ends up at his home for work one evening and spends the night.

Warnings: Smut

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Azriel Shadowsinger. Methodical, efficient, focused. Rigid dietary habits, discipline in training, unwavering proficiency in espionage. The spies he trained were held to that level of diligence—hell, even the priestesses he oversaw knew he expected order even in his absence.

That detail orientation carried over to his sex life. The lovers he sought were deliberately chosen to allow him to maintain the level of control he desired. Women that understood what he wanted—how he wanted them. Women that didn’t grow emotionally attached, that understood it was purely a physical transaction. Women that he could keep from his busybody family, situated in parts of Velaris that weren’t in their usual line of frequenting.

Azriel found a positive correlation between softer, sweeter women, and their likelihood to form emotional attachment, and an equally positive correlation between women who fucked rougher, who were colder, more jaded, and their ability to remain unattached. Those who didn’t demand he slept over after, that he take them to dinner.

You were the closest thing to an exception, being the cheeriest on the roster, yet you never displayed any attachment to him. Never looked disappointed when he left without eating breakfast. That was one of the things he liked most about you; you were lively—more than any of his other lovers—so he could enjoy the more girlishly charming, satiating parts you offered, but you stayed within the limit of his preferred emotional detachment. It was like a controlled dosage of indulgence.

Besides your vibrant energy, the other thing that made you feel different from the rest was the way you touched him. In a sea of meticulously selected, hard-hearted lovers, you were the only one that touched him softly. The first time you stroked his face tenderly while he was rutting away inside you, he thought you’d crossed some emotional threshold, that you’d begin asking him to be exclusive. To let you meet his family. But that never happened, so he dismissed it.

But it happened again when you once pressed your entire torso to his in an embrace that caught him off guard while you rode him. Held him to your heart until you both found your release.

Azriel figured this was just another avenue of indulgence you sought from him. Pretences of intimacy. If you could enjoy them, so would he. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, even when he began seeking you out over his other lovers. He was still in control.

It was the morning after he’d spent the night at your house. He awoke early, his circadian rhythm in tune with his perfectionism. His fingers felt across the sheets—just to gain his bearings. The sheets felt cold. Good, he insisted. This suited him better anyways.

He dressed, washed up, and made his way out. Maybe you had an early shift, or you liked to meditate. It didn’t matter, it was just his spymaster mind naturally seeking answers. In the kitchen, you were nowhere to be seen, but a singular plate on the island caught his eye.

It was homemade banana bread, each slice in a neat paper wrapper. Beside the plate, there was a note.

Gluten-free, sweetened with honey, full of organic nuts for protein. Made yesterday evening. Hope you like ‘em! Had to run to meet with a friend.

Huh.

Azriel wondered if you’d prepared them specifically for him, or if you just happened to have similar nutritional regiments. He took a slice, leaving your apartment.

He strolled, basking in the emptiness in the streets so early in the morning, and admittedly, the banana bread was very good. Who did you have to meet so early in the morning? Or was it a means to keep him an arm's length away? If anything, that was appropriate—it was simply an occupational by-product to find curiosity in everything. Azriel pushed the thoughts aside, finishing his dillydallying, and winnowed home.

Cassian sat next to Azriel in the lounge while everyone transferred there after dinner. He hadn’t seen his brother all day with their respectively packed schedules, but Rhys called an impromptu gathering at the Town House.

“Long night last night?” Cassian asked.

Azriel shrugged. “It was fine.”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Just another girl. Kind of bubbly.”

“I didn’t know that was your type,” Cassian laughed.

“It’s not. Just trying something new.”

Cassian shook his head, chuckling. “Long as you’re happy.”

Azriel didn’t know if he was necessarily happy, but an image flashed in his head of you baking in your apartment. If you had that concentrated furrow in your brows while you worked.

“What was the meeting called for, again?” he changed the subject.

Cassian shrugged. “Nesta had some new contact she thought would help with research.”

On cue, the twin wraiths entered the space. “Your guest is here,” Nuala spoke, stepping aside.

Azriel’s eyes widened as you walked right into his living room.

Nesta stood from her seat. You squeezed her in a tight embrace, joy unconcealed as you laughed brightly. Nesta began introducing you to everyone who you greeted with similar enthusiasm, the sweetness practically dripping off you. Your pretty smiles and firm handshakes had everyone matching your warm energy, and Azriel found his throat going dry.

Your eyes scanned the room, halting and widening when you spotted him. Then snapped back to the High Lord who was asking you about archive sources for the library.

“I—I have a friend who works in the Day Court. They—um—” another glance at Azriel, cheeks bright red— “they accidentally duplicated some texts. I’ll get the details for you soon.”

Cassian noted your glances at Azriel, not necessarily a rare sight for females to be smitten by him, but when he saw his brother’s shadows snaking the ground hastily—a tell of Azriel’s restlessness—Cassian narrowed his eyes.

You made your way over, shaking hands with the General, pointedly avoiding Azriel’s eye. Cassian tried to ease your apprehension by smiling kindly, making a joke about walking into a den of vipers to which you laughed.

Then it was Azriel’s turn, and he was facing his lover in front of his entire family.

You stared up at Azriel, brows raised and eyes wide like a doe. Your blushing cheeks and nervous fidgeting had Azriel biting back a smile despite the ordeal, unexpectedly amused by the fluster. It was adorable.

Azriel stuck out his hand, seeking to ease your nerves, surprising even himself at the urge. You placed your hand in his, still hesitant. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “Nesta introduced us earlier,” he lied.

“Oh. Yes. It’s good to see you again, Azriel,” you quickly recovered, and Azriel was impressed, resisting the upward tug of his lips.

His shadows whispered of Nesta frowning at the lie, then just as quickly, her mouth parting in realization. She came over, pointedly staring at Azriel, then looped her arm through yours and guided you to sit as everyone retook their seats.

Conversation resumed. You were occupied with the High Lord and Lady, answering questions about the texts. Azriel glimpsed at you again, taking in how expressive you naturally were, how he could read your every emotion. The way your eyes shone when you showed interest in something, how you nodded eagerly. He’d always taken pleasure in how responsive you were, but he’d rarely seen you outside the bedroom; didn’t get to enjoy it otherwise. Cassian leaned over to Azriel. “Not your type, hey?”

“Shut up,” Azriel muttered as Cassian chuckled.

Someone eventually brought out Rhys’s good wine, and the group indulged themselves. You listened eagerly as Cassian told stories at Azriel’s expense, peering over at him shyly. Azriel couldn’t help but wink, making you blush all over again and break his gaze.

Soon the respective couples began retiring. Nesta was making promises about meeting with you again when she suddenly faced Azriel, mischief bright in her eyes. “Azriel can fly you home, Y/N. Have a goodnight.” She rose, taking Cassian’s hand who was biting back a laugh.

When the room finally cleared, it was just you and Azriel.

You faced him. “Azriel, I’m sorry—I didn’t know this was your house,” you stammered. Azriel had never seen you so nervous before.

“It’s alright, this was an unexpected… coincidence. I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable for you.”

Your brows rose earnestly. “No, your friends are lovely. I just hope you’re not upset or anything.”

Azriel shook his head. “Not at all.” He scanned your tense form. “It’s alright, I’m not upset.”

You nodded, forcing a tight smile. “I can just walk home by myself, it’s okay.” You collected your bag, looking to the door, but Azriel found himself speaking before he thought twice.

“I didn’t know you knew Nesta.”

Your attention was drawn back. “I met her at a bookstore a while back. I was just with her this morning.”

Ah. “So that’s who you snuck off to see,” Azriel smiled teasingly.

You gaped for a beat before smiling comfortably. “We had a very important meeting.” You finally seemed to relax; he found himself wanting more.

“Is my company so dull that you needed to replace it with books at eight in the morning?”

You laughed openly now, making Azriel grin. “Oh, yes. Real monotonous guy. Quite the prude.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Azriel stepped closer, and you craned your neck back. “I’m just not doing it for you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself?” he murmured.

You shook your head, staring up at him as he stepped even closer.

Then he bent to whisper in your ear. “That’s not what it felt like.”

Azriel relished the sight of your mouth parting in shock. Then your eyes narrowed, and you rose on your tiptoes to whisper back, “You can’t prove that.”

His brows rose. “Is that a challenge?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I suppose.”

Azriel shook his head, glaring playfully as he weighed his options. He’s never brought a lover home. All escapades were done at their houses or some ulterior location. He eyed the stairs, wondering if he could muster the willpower to turn you down, especially with the way you were looking up at him.

When he met your gaze again, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell. He scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist, and winnowed to his room.

You gasped, clutching onto him before the world rematerialized. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d be here, that Azriel would ever let you in like this. You stepped out of his hold, nervousness creeping up on you all over again. Azriel was the most enigmatic male you’d ever come across, but this felt unpredictable even for him.

Azriel watched you pace, taking in his space in the dark. Watched as you crossed your arms across your abdomen, the stress he’d noted in your body earlier becoming visible again.

Worst of all, Azriel had the distinct urge to comfort the anxiety away. Again.

You’d lounged with his family, and now he bore witness to the sight of you in his room. It was too intimate. It broke his rules, taunted his discipline.

Azriel walked over to where you stood near the window, and you turned to face him. He brought a hand up to the back of your neck, cradling it. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked lowly.

“No,” you stepped closer to him.

Azriel kissed you. There was nothing soft about the way he moved his mouth, how he pressed into you demandingly. He felt your gasp in his mouth, gripping you tighter to him. His other hand moved through your hair, fisting it at the scalp and tugging it back for more access.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, matching his fervour, and it only spurred him on. He walked you back to his bed, yanking at your clothes blindly, stripping you without releasing your mouth.

You were naked by the time your knees hit the mattress, and Azriel broke off to watch you fall back into the bed.

His bed.

He growled and began yanking off his clothes. He crawled to where you lay, hovering over your body. Your legs widened instinctually, allowing him to cushion his hardening length against your core, relishing in the warmth. He ground into you, kissing your neck. Your gasps were frequent, hands carding through his hair as your hips bucked of their own accord against his movement. You reached down between your bodies and stroked his length. Azriel shuddered, leaning into your touch. But then you looked up at him again with those damned eyes, and Azriel’s breath caught.

“Turn around,” he rasped.

You stared for a beat, brows faintly pinching before obliging him. He lifted off you to give you the breadth to turn, watching as you braced yourself on your hands and knees.

Azriel stroked himself against you a few more times before easing in, groaning at the tight fit. He waited a few moments as you adjusted to the stretch before he began moving.

Azriel had never made love before, but even when he regularly fucked his women, he did so within the limits of what they wanted. What they could take. But as he repeatedly withdrew and buried himself, there was a distinct urge to take you harder. Like being rougher would salvage his detachment, annul any inklings of intimacy. Erase the etching of your wide-eyed gaze from his consciousness. So he pounded hard, savouring how you massaged him from the inside. How you arched forward from the force, bracing yourself on your forearms from the harsh snap of his hips.

He’d taken you from the back before, but even then, you’d managed to work some tender touch into the act; grasping his hands where they gripped your hips, a stroke to his thighs from beneath your body. But this time, you weren’t making any attempts as he jackknifed again and again.

No soft touches.

That observation grounded Azriel in the haze of his unrelenting carnal chase. He studied your form. You were panting, taking him well and clenching around his length, but he noted that tension was still present in your body—your shoulders and back were stiff. Azriel gentled his thrusting. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you breathed. Then you reached a hand back as if to touch his reassuringly, but you froze mid-reach and retracted it. That sent an ugly pang through his chest.

Your words from before echoed in his mind. I hope you’re not upset.

Azriel halted inside you.

He was a bastard for making you endure his callousness.

You pushed back against him, trying to urge him on, but Azriel didn’t let up, holding your hips firmly in place. “Why’d you stop?” you whined.

Because you’re not touching me like you usually do.

It was like cold water to the face, realizing what he wanted.

But Azriel couldn’t explain it. Didn’t want to admit to it—the urge to treat you softly, to soothe away your worry. That he sought your caresses. So he didn’t try to verbalize it. Instead, he pulled out, gently guiding you onto your back, and lowered himself to his forearms on either side of your head. You stared in awe.

When he entered you this time, it was slower, more intentional. Immediately, your face contorted in pleasure, and Azriel could feel how your body eased beneath his, how you relaxed. And when he lowered his mouth to yours, you sighed. He kissed you deeply and softly. Sweetly. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him tighter to your torso, to wrap your legs firmly around his waist. Azriel’s deep groan reverberated through your chest, bringing you back to the edge of release.

He moved with deliberate, deep strokes, adjusting according to how you responded, which angles made you gasp. There was no space between your bodies; with each push, you felt him everywhere, felt him brush against your breasts, felt his hips move languidly between your trembling thighs.

He noted how close you were from your writhing against him, how you arched further into his heaving chest. So he snaked a hand down to your apex and rubbed gentle circles, tipping you over the edge. Release tore through you, and you couldn’t breathe, white-hot ecstasy coursing through you as he worked you through it. He raised his head to watch you fall apart.

When the waves abated, you pulled his head down against yours, his cheekbone resting directly against your lips. His eyes fluttered shut when you stroked his other cheek softly, whispering breathily for him to let go, baby, let go, and you felt his orgasm tear through him, how it erupted warm bursts of his seed deep in your belly. You kept stroking his cheek as he came down, only releasing him when he stopped shuddering.

When he pulled back and looked at you, there was something in his eyes you’d never seen before. Then, a tiny smile tugged the edges of his lips up, and he finally removed himself from you, laying next to you.

Before you could even consider whether he wanted you to stay, Azriel tugged the sheet over your body and wordlessly caressed your hip. By his standards, it was an invitation if you’ve ever seen one, so you silently shuffled closer with your back to him and basked in the way he pulled you to his chest.

For the first time, Azriel initiated the soft touches. He cupped your shoulders, stroking down your arms to your hands, interweaving his fingers with yours with his palms cradling the back of your hands. He crossed your clasped hands across your abdomen.

You sighed, pressing closer to his chest, savouring his body heat. He’d never held you like this—never held you at all. “You’re so warm, Az,” you breathed, squeezing his fingers.

Rules be damned, he thought.

When he was sure you’d fallen asleep, he whispered, “You bring it out of me.”

Azriel awoke; the remnants of a feeling lingering in his mind… something peaceful. Something hopeful.

You’d stayed the night. At his house. Slept in his arms.

He reached across the sheets. When they were cold, he couldn’t lie to himself, couldn’t deny his disappointment.

Had he taken it too far? Was it because he’d been so rough before he gentled himself?

Azriel frowned, rising out of bed.

It was ten in the morning. He’d slept in. Whatever’d gotten under his skin lately was really giving him a run for his money. He had a sinking feeling it had to do with a bubbly girl with a wide-eyed stare.

Azriel entered the kitchen, finding his entire family already eating.

“Late morning?” Cassian grinned.

“Late night, more like,” Rhys added as Azriel rolled his eyes, taking his seat.

The food tasted bland. Azriel frowned into his coffee; why did it bother him this much? You were only doing what he always did—leaving immediately. Should he expect something different just because he’d been soft with you?

Then Nesta entered the kitchen, and you walked in right behind her.

Azriel’s eyes widened, and you halted. “Oh,” you breathed.

Nesta smiled devilishly. “I was just showing Y/N the library while you slept in, Azriel.”

Oh.

Azriel nodded in silence, finding his plate suddenly very interesting.

“I—I’m just going to get my bag,” you said, turning to leave hurriedly.

In your absence, all eyes turned to Azriel, who let out a longwinded exhale. When he deigned to look, everyone was smirking.

“Looks like someone had a big boy sleepover,” Mor teased.

Cassian drawled, “Anything you’d like to share, Az?”

“Not particularly,” Azriel replied, standing to leave, ignoring the innuendos tossed around, the wolf whistle sounding above the laughter.

Azriel walked back to his room, an unexpected nervousness creeping up on him. You stood inside. “Y/N,” he spoke softly, drawing your attention.

“Azriel, I don’t mean to impose. I didn’t know your friends would be in the kitchen.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright. You’re not imposing. I’m—I’m glad you stayed,” his cheeks warmed at his own admission.

You bit your lip. “It’s just—I know you’re very… um, particular. With your methods.”

Azriel smiled. “My methods?”

You fidgeted, smiling shyly. “Mhm.”

He walked closer. “Well, it seems you’re making a rulebreaker out of me.”

Your eyes narrowed, glinting with mischief.

“Will you stay for breakfast?” He beamed when your mouth parted, fond of your candid nature. “Unfortunately, I can’t say I baked any pastries for you.”

But you quickly recovered, glaring accusatorily. “Who’s to say those were for you?”

There was that sass he adored. Azriel laughed. “My apologies for assuming.”

You gazed up at him in wonder. “I’d love to. It’s just—you know, your prude tendencies,” you shrugged. “They’re not to my liking.”

Azriel chuckled. “Not the prude tendencies again.”

You smiled warmly. “I didn’t think I’d be—you know… I didn’t account for our time. I have to run, unfortunately.” Damn. Before he could sit with the sting of disappointment, you continued. “But I’m gonna be really hungry this evening.”

“Dinner, then?”

You touched a hand softly to his arm. He wondered if you knew what those touches did to him. “Yes, dinner. I’ll see you at seven, Shadowsinger.”

Moments later, as Azriel stood by the foyer window watching you leave, Cassian approached him, leaning over his shoulder. “Look’s like someone’s got a soft spot,” he muttered. Azriel scoffed, but the words rang true. Cassian added, “I’m happy for you. Are you happy?”

Azriel unwittingly smiled as you turned at the end of the street, peering over your shoulder, catching his eye and winking.

“Yeah, I’m happy.”

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @aroseinvelaris @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy

#azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azrielhours #azriel fluff

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yelenasdiary · 11 months

Note

I’m thinking about pervy prison guard Natasha (who has a dick) and innocent!r, who got framed and Natasha takes an interest in her and just has to protect her but y’know you have to pay her back in different methods, I hope you can write this ^_^

Number One Rule

Pairing: Pervy Prison Guard! Natasha x Innocent Fem! Reader

Summary: After being framed and sent to prison, one guard takes an interest in you and offers you protection from other inmates, of course with a catch.

AC: I think I have a new obsession! Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy it x!

Never in a million years did you think you'd be in a prison cell crying yourself to sleep every night. Nobody believed you, that you didn't commit the murder you were framed for and now here you were, in a cell with your cell mate on the top bunk snoring loud enough to drain out your sobs. The nights where harder than the day, you felt more alone at night and too scared to fall asleep.

The other women took a liking to you but not in the way you hoped. You were fresh meat, somebody they would use to get drugs into the prison to save their own backsides from being caught, the newbie they could throw around and get to do anything they wanted because you didn't want to get hurt. You just wanted to stick to yourself and serve your sentence while trying your best to clear your name from the inside.

It had only been a month since you arrived, and things were only getting harder. You've been beaten one too many times already, just the women's way of 'welcoming' you to the unit and who to be scared of and for them, it worked. You never left your cell unless you knew there were guards walking the halls or you were forced too by them, but there was one guard that seemed to take an extra liking to you.

Miss Romanoff. Probably the only guard that was kind, all the others had this front about them but it was a prison, nobody was supposed to be nice. Miss Romanoff began standing close by your cell and everywhere you looked she was there. What you weren't aware of was the hidden camera in the showers that gave the guard the perfect view of you in every single inch. When she went home, she'd watch the playbacks of you in the shower, washing your body with the crappy soup you were given, watching the way you moved your hands all around your body while she stroked her cock just wishing she could take you right there.

Each morning after breakfast, inmates were allowed to call their loved ones for 30 minutes, all but you as it seemed. As you were lining up, other inmates pushed in front, pushing you further and further to the back of the line until you eventually snapped.

"Hey! the back of the line" you spat at one of the inmates who turned to face you and chuckled, "Does it look like I give a fuck where the back of the line is?" she replied, shoving you harshly into the cold, brick wall as she laughed at you.

"I mean it! You guys do this shit to be every fucking day, I've had enough!"

"Check this out, the newbie has had enough guys!" the criminal laughed once more before shoving you once again, this time harder. You knew your next move wasn't a good idea but you're only human who could take so much. You pushed yourself off the wall and lunged at the inmate, punching her in the face before you had realized what you'd done. "You stupid, stupid BITCH!" the woman spat before lunging at you with her fist ready to return the punch you had just delivered her.

You closed your eyes and prepared yourself for the harm you were in but to your surprise the woman's fist was caught by a guard. "Get back to your units, all of you! Call time is off!" Miss Romanoff announced, the room erupted with groans as the woman spat insults to you on their way out, some kicking the wall to show their anger.

"You're dead meat, newbie!" one woman whispered as she walked by you.

You sighed and turned on your heels to walk out, only to be stopped by the guard. "Not you, Y/n. You're coming with me" she said, gently taking you by the arm and giving you a light push to continue walking.

To the others, it looked like you were in trouble and on your way to 'the box'. A cell of isolation, no contact with anybody but staff, no outside time, nothing. Just you in a cell for as long as they wanted.

"Miss, I'm sorry. I got angry and I shouldn't have punched her" you spoke, trying not to breakdown in the hands of the guard. "After you" she opened the door to a room you'd never seen before, hesitantly you stepped foot in the room before the red headed guard closed the door behind you both. "W-what is happening?" you asked in a scared tone. Nobody was allowed in the boiler room, not even staff unless authorized.

"We're going to have a little chat" she smiled softly, making you both walk a little further away from the door. "I..I p-promise I won't do it again, please don't hurt me" you begged, scared that the woman was going to beat you like you'd heard many times on the news that prison guards would sometimes beat inmates when they were out of line.

"Shh, darling. I'm not going to hurt you, like I said, we're just going to have a little chat" she replied before you both came to a stop, completely out of view if anybody were to come into the room. "You're new here, I know but you shouldn't be getting yourself into situations like that. The inmates here won't hold back on killing you over something tiny like what just happened" Miss Romanoff explained.

"I…I know, I j-just got so sick of the bullshit they do to me every day" you admitted with a sigh, "Again, I'm really sorry" you added.

"I can protect you" Miss Romanoff brushed off your apology, "I can make sure they don't hurt you, I'll keep you safe" she added.

"You'd do that? B-but isn't that a bad thing? I mean, w-would they come after me even more than they are?" You looked at the guard with nothing but fear in your eyes.

"I've been working here for years, and I've seen many scared women like you come and go, some only make it out in a body bag. You saw how quicky those inmates listened to me, doesn't that not show you that I can handle them?"

She had a point and just the thought of having somebody looking out for you suddenly made this place seem a little more bearable. You nodded, "but why bring me here?" you asked. The guard chuckled, "because the number one rule in prison is you never do anything without giving something in return" she explained with a light smirk before she gently grabbed your hand and placed it over her bulge, "I'll look after you, if you look after me" she spoke as your eyes dropped to your hand on her clothed bulge.

"I..I" you stuttered as you slowly looked up at her, "I've…n-never" you paused, looking away with embarrassment. Natasha smiled softly before guiding you to look at her with her thumb. "Baby, have you never had sex before?" she asked, your checks went red as you nodded slowly. "It's okay baby, we'll have fun. Now, how about you be a good girl for me and get on your knees. You're going to learn how to suck my cock real good and I'll make sure you're out of harm's way" she smiled before gently pushing you to your knees.

Natasha unbuckled her pants, letting them fall to her knees. You could see she was already semi hard, her cock just begging to be released. "It's okay sweet baby, don't scared" she looked down at you, giving you the okay to pull her boxers down and finally freeing her cock. She was bigger than you pictured just seconds before as she pulsed in front of you, you slowly looked up at her and swallowed the lump in your throat. "I d-don't think I can make it f-fit" you stutter once more, hoping not to disappoint the guard.

"I'll guide you, now open that pretty mouth for me" she instructed. You did as told and allowed the woman of power to slide her member inside your mouth before her hands landed on your eat to guide you to start moving. Natasha moaned at the warmth of your mouth wrapped around her, she told you to swirl your tongue around her as she began to thrust her hips forward, making you take her down the back of your throat, gagging for air.

"That's it baby, gag on my cock just like that" she moaned, throwing her head back as you wrapped a hand around at base of her cock with a tiny boost of confidence which made Natasha smirk, "good girl, you're getting the idea now" she commented as you began to stoke her cock she left go of your head and let you suck her off at your own will.

Moans and groans left the guards lips as you grew more confident sucking her off, taking her down your throat at your own will now. "Fuck baby, I'm going to cum!" she looked down at you, noticing how you had your free hand down your pants, she smirked. "Take your shirt off baby, I want to cum all over your pretty tits" she instructed. With need, you had your shirt off and threw to the side and unclasped your bra. "They're so much prettier in person, fuck" Natasha basically drooled at the sight of you.

"W-what?" you asked, freezing all actions as you looked up at her.

"Oh come on baby, you don't think I haven't been protecting you since the day you came in here? I've had eyes on you every single day, everywhere" she admitted and if you weren't already so easily turned on by her moans earlier, you would've blown up at the thought of a stranger watching you. "Don't go shy on me now, I've seen how you play with yourself in the shower when everybody has left the room" Her comment made your cheeks go red once more as you looked away from the woman.

"I heard the name you moaned once too" she added, catching your attention again. Once, by accident you moaned Miss Romanoff's name as you rubbed your clit in the shower, you were as shamed of it but never thought she knew about it. "I'm s-sorry, I just, I mean, it was an accident" you tried to make the excuse.

"Shhh, I don't care about your excuses" she grabbed your head, forcing your mouth back around her cock. You could feel her twitching as you sucked her harder than moments before. "I knew you were a needy little slut, stop, I'm gonna cum!" she took her cock out of your mouth and jerked herself off for a few short seconds before you felt warm spurts of her cum landing on your chest, moans leaving her lips as she continued to unload herself on your bare chest.

"Stand up, it's your turn" she smirked as she gently stroked herself. You stood up and pressed your back against the cold, hard wall as Natasha got on her knees in front of you, pulling your prison colored pants down with her. "Mmm, tell me you want this" she looked up at you after seeing the wet patch on your panties. You couldn't help but nod with need, unsure of what exactly you were agreeing to.

Natasha pushed your legs apart slightly before pulling your panties down to your ankles, "you're so wet baby" she commented before brushing her thumb over your exposed clit. You moaned at her touch, you've never been touched before, and it felt so much better then when you'd touched yourself.

"Please" you begged with soft eyes as you looked down at the red head, she smirked as she looked up at you. "Tell me what you want, say it" she demanded but you were too shy to say the words as you shook your head. "I can't" you replied.

"Say it" she repeated, this time she started to pull your panties back up.

"Please!" you begged again, "please…fu-fuck me"

Natasha smirked once more, "good girl" she commented before she placed one of your legs over her shoulder and dived into your pussy. Licking a long stripe up to your clit as you moaned once again, your hands finding her head and gently pushing her forward for more. You both knew you didn't have a lot of time for Natasha to take her time with you like she would've loved too, she ate you with hunger and need, giving you feelings, you didn't even know existed as she turned you into a moaning mess, begging her to keep going.

"I th-think I'm going to cum!" you moaned, unsure as you were never truly able to make yourself cum.

"Cum for me baby" Natasha looked up at you as you threw your head back once more before letting your orgasm take over your body, letting the woman's tongue taste even more of your sweetness. "Oh god!" you moaned as the woman helped you ride out your high while tweaking your hardened nipples.

"That was better than I expected" you admitted when the woman rose back to her feet. "We're not done yet baby" Natasha took off her jacket and placed it on the ground, "on your hands and knees, I need to feel you cum around my cock" she looked back at you.

"I don't think that's going to fit!" you replied as your eyes dropped to her hard on.

"I think it will" she nodded for you to get on the ground.

Natasha settled behind you, kissed down your spine as she rubbed the tip of her cock against your clit, making you moan once more. "It's going to hurt, please don't" you looked back at her with concern. "Only for a few minutes baby, don't worry, it'll feel good after, I promise" she assured you as she lined herself up with your wet pussy, "let me know when you're ready" she added. It only took a few minutes for you to remember the times when you were at home with a vibrator wishing you had a dildo to stuff inside you for that extra pleasure, you looked back at the guard "fuck me, please!" you begged while Natasha smirked as she slowly entered you.

Your fists gripped her jacket hard as the burning pain rushed through you, Natasha stopped when she bottomed out, "you're so fucking tight baby, let me know when I can move, okay?" she lent down and kissed the back of your shoulder for comfort. After a new minute, you were comfortable enough for the guard to start giving you what you wanted.

Natasha started thrusting slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of having her inside you as you moaned, she grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you up against her. "You're mine now" she whispered before she began to fuck into you harder, moaning at the way you clenched around her.

You were lucky the boiler room was naturally loud enough to cover the sounds of Natasha's thighs slapping against you and your moans begging her to fucking you harder. "God baby! Keep clenching me like that and I'll cum!" she commented as you were close to your orgasm. "D-don't cum inside me! Fuck! Just keep going!" You moaned. Natasha's grip on your hips was sure to leave a mark by the next day but you didn't care, as long as she kept fucking you with this hunger she had, you'd let her do anything.

With one hand, Natasha reached for your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as you did your best to cover your screams as you came around her cock, "fuck!! It's too much!!" you moaned as the woman kept fucking you, chuckling at your state. "You can cum for me baby" she commented as she continued to hit that one spot that made your eyes roll back, "'s too much!" You moaned once again before you realized you were cumming once again, almost numb from the overstimulation.

Natasha pulled out quickly before unloading on your lower back, "God baby!" she moaned while you gently allowed yourself to lay completely flat on her jacket, completely fucked out. The woman laid down next to you as she caught her breath, "they won't bother you again, I'll make sure of it" she looked to you.

You nodded, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep but she had to return you to your unit before headcount. "I would usually look after you, but I can't, not here. I'll take you back to your cell and you can get your things then I'll take you to the showers and you can have one without anybody coming in" she added, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. "Thank you, Miss Romanoff" you smiled tiredly.

"When nobody's around, call me Natasha" she replied.

If you don't want to be on the taglist for smut related fics, please let me know 💖

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #black widow #fanfiction

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hanasnx · 23 days

Text

jerk it out.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: the header is from @/teefumz on tiktok and instagram. i couldn’t find anything about their rules on reposts used for personal reasons such as this which is why i really stress go check out the original artist on their platforms linked. WARNINGS: human!mordecai | situationship | fwbs | explicit sexual content | praise | doggy style | reverse cowgirl | squirting | vaginal fingering.

MORDECAI wasn’t always good at sex. When you first started out your little situationship with him, he had not impressed you with his skills in the sack. He made up for it in constant worship, and empty availability, essentially donated his flagpole of a cock for you to fuck yourself on whenever convenient. Even going as far as to make Rigby cover for him while he raced over to your place on work time. He’s still working off taking the golf cart for a personal call.

However, the longer this has gone on the better it got. Before when he’d beg you to do reverse cowgirl, you were hesitant because of your lack of view. You were used to doing most of the work by then, but he most enjoyed watching that pretty ass bounce on him. He’d wrap those long, ringed fingers around your ankles, stroking his thumb lovingly across your skin as he groans behind you.

Now that’s gotten more confident, he’ll make it worth your while. He’ll root his feet on the mattress so he can pick his pelvis up, juggling you on his hips as he fucks up into you. Your hair is corded around his palm—where he says it belongs—keeping your spine in a deep arch, just how he likes it.

Proving what a fan he is of hitting it from the back, doggy style is another favorite of his. He’s gotten exponentially more skilled on that one. Instead of plowing you with his rig and hoping for the best, he’s learned how to move you, and move with you. That hand places itself on your tailbone, bouncing you back, and letting your body spring you forth on its own. His lean and taut abdomen rolls as he fucks you, stroking your insides instead of ramming them. He learned the method from how well you responded when he ate you out, the motion of his tongue licking your hole taught him well, and you rewarded him with the hottest moan he’s ever heard and your claws dug deep in his faded dyed blue hair. Now he’s got it figured out, and by the way you’re yelling into his mattress, he’d say he’s doing a damn good job.

Like you want it, you’re backing up on him, meeting him halfway. The pace is set harder, slamming into you like you’re asking for while you writhe and clutch at his old and worn blanket. He goes for it, palming your head to shove your face further into the mattress, muffling you. The slightest change in angle transforms the sensation, and he starts fucking a limp body only interested in the way he’s hitting that pleasure spot over and over again. One of the reasons you liked Mordecai enough to hook up was his length because you’re into the pain. Now that’s gotten the hang of how to use it, you’re no better than a brainless doll, letting him fuck your hole like the expensive fleshlight he could never afford. Can’t beat the real thing anyway. Cunt gripping on him, tight and wet and sweet. He’s never had anything like it before, he fits in you like nothing else. “Taking it so good, can’t believe it. Can’t believe how fucking good you feel.” You can’t even respond, mindlessly babbling as he talks dirty to you.

When you start drying up from the harsh pace and his condom, he pulls out for your sake. You make a noise of disappointment but you’re satiated as soon as he hastily spits on your cunt. The gob slides down, and he spreads the moisture with three clumsy fingers, probing the entrance until he shoves them in. You jump with a cry, tensing under his touch but he doesn’t let up, banging his fingers inside you to coax that coveted release out of you. He knows exactly how to lure it out, he’s not trying to get you to cum. The familiar sting wells up in the pit of your stomach, screaming into his covers. Unconsciously you reach back to grab at him but he dodges you because he won’t let you get out of it. He wants his bed to smell like you.

Just like that you squirt, spraying him and dripping down his tense forearm. “Oh, fuck yeah, baby. There you go, fuck. Give it to me.” he encourages, plugging up your hole so it spills out from around him, over and over again, taking it from you while you bite hard into a bunch of blanket.

Tender, he extracts his fingers, having been held captive by your contracting pussy. Doesn’t matter that it’s sore and you’re coated in your own squirt and twitching, he feeds that long cock right back in to keep going.

#[🃏]#indy: drabbles #ch: human!mordecai #mordecai drabble #mordecai smut #mordecai x reader #mordecai x fem reader #mordecai x you #mordecai x y/n #mordecai imagine #mordecai fic #mordecai fanfic #mordecai fanfiction #regular show x reader #reader insert

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lumi-nescentt · 6 months

Text

Rumor Has It

Part 1 - Someone Like You

Pairing: Jenson Button x Reader / Mark Webber x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Catching the attention of an F1 driver is already rare but catching the attention of two very close friends in the paddock can only be a recipe for disaster. Especially when they're both devilishly handsome and have their mind set on winning your affections.

A/N: This was supposed to be a oneshot but I got carried away so it's now a four parter

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Mark and Jenson were close friends, that was a fact. The two drivers were always joking with each other. Despite their competitiveness on track, they always knew that leaving any argument they had on track was the wisest decision.

It was almost an unspoken rule that any disagreement was to be left to deal with on track and for years they never argued about anything because they knew better. Plus, they never had something to argue over that required more than what racing solved. That was until you came along, you and your bright smile that made Jenson stutter for the first time when giving an interview. Mark was just as affected as his British friend but he chose not to show it to you initially.

Jenson had been on his way to tell Mark about this gorgeous and funny reporter that he had immediately been attracted to but before he could say anything, the Australian was already talking about you. All Jenson could do was nod and laugh as Mark described how beautiful you were and how you had smiled so brightly at him while asking him questions.

Part of him wanted to shut Mark up, to tell him that you had also smiled at him and that he wasn’t special but that meant admitting that he was just as ordinary as the Australian and Jenson hoped the spark between you hadn’t been one sided.

For months the two men tried to get your attention, each with their own method but the same motivation behind it. Mark always spent as much time as possible with you in the media pen, sticking around until you were done to have a quick discussion until he was forced to join his team briefing. The usually quite grumpy Australian seemed to soften around you, smiling softly and always finding something interesting to say to you even when he DNFed. He was really trying to show his softer side in hopes that you’d like him back someday.

Where Mark was putting his hopes of getting with you on a subtler approach, Jenson was the complete opposite. The Brit was trying every trick in the book to get you to notice him, shamelessly flirting with you on or off camera. His smug smile never left his face whenever he knew he had your undivided attention.

He got high on it, trying to find how to rile you up, how to get you to respond to his taunts. When it worked, the rare times you caved in and teased him back, Jenson beamed with pride.

With how close the two drivers were, they were well aware that they liked you both and that if you ever decided to reciprocate their feelings, one of them would be left behind and forced to let you go. Each of them hoped their antics would work, bragging about how well they knew you and how you would like them back someday.

Neither of them dared to say they’d get you explicitly. First, they didn’t want to jinx it by saying out loud a wish that hadn’t happened yet. Second, they knew better than to be douchebags and they respected you too much to treat you like some prize to be won. No matter how this whole flirting game felt like a competition between them, you weren’t an object to own.

By the end of the 2008 season, you still hadn’t reciprocated any of their feelings but neither of them was ready to give up. For an unknown reason, you had their undivided attention and there was nothing you or they could do about it.

At first, you had thought they were indeed flirting with you and it felt good to be wanted. It wasn’t everyday that two gorgeous men got out of their way to have your attention. But then when Seb, who you knew had a girlfriend he loved to death, had started to flirt with you too, you started doubting the whole thing.

Without knowing it, Seb’s need to tease his teammate and his friend had ruined most of their efforts. Jenson was known to be a playboy anyway so it was easy to convince yourself that he was just being his usual charming self and that you had overanalyzed every interaction you had with him.

Convincing yourself that Mark was just being friendly was harder because the change in personality was evident. Your colleagues relentlessly teased you about your capacity of turning the intimidating Australian into some sort of lovesick puppy.

Even with how hard he was trying, Jenson could tell you were pulled towards Mark by a force bigger than him. Maybe it was the age difference between him and the Australian that pulled you towards his friend. Mark was in his thirties and despite not having changed on track, the Brit could tell his friend was in another stage of his life than him.

Mark was done with meaningless flings and was looking for something real now. He still liked to party but there was something more serious about him. A steadiness and surety emanated from him. Jenson was well aware that he lacked that in appearance.

He was still enjoying life like there was no tomorrow and despite getting close to thirty, the Brit was still acting as if he was in his early twenties. He just thought life was easier that way. No one expected anything for you if you didn’t give them a reason too and it was the only way Jenson knew to avoid disappointing the people around him. You can’t really fail to meet expectations if the bar is on the floor.

Maybe that was Jenson’s biggest flaw, his deep-rooted fear of disappointment had made him create this wall around him. This persona of Jenson Button, the ladies’ man, professional playboy, slag of the F1 paddock, he had heard it all and basked in it. Sometimes even using it to his advantage to get what he wanted because he was after all just a man with needs and there was only so long he could resist when presented with a good time.

As both of them kept trying to make you fall for them, the months passed and with that the 2009’s season with it. With how well his career was going, Jenson was putting his everything into whatever bond the two of you shared. He swore he could touch everything he ever wanted at the tip of his fingers: his dream of being a world champion and his dream girl, miraculously in the same place.

In a moment of euphoria after he won the championship, Jenson had asked you to come to the afterparty to celebrate with him and all the drivers. You had planned to go out to celebrate your well-deserved break anyway so you agreed, thinking he’d be too busy to notice if you ever decided to show up or not.

Seb was the first one to notice you in the packed club, smiling at you before nudging his teammate who smiled at you fondly, the alcohol letting him show his emotions more freely. You watched as he closed the distance between you, navigating between the mass of drunk people with ease before stopping in front of you with the same drunken smile.

-“ Hey Mark”

-“ Nobody told me you’d be coming, if I had known I’d have drank less.” Mark apologised

-“ Why, scared you’ll share your deepest secrets with me ?”

-“ I have nothing to hide from you, I just want to be sure I remember every moment spent with you.” he smiled fondly

-“ That’s very sweet but don’t worry about the alcohol, I plan on drinking as well so I’ll catch up with you soon enough.” you laughed

-“ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk. I wonder what kind of person you are then…”

-“ What do you think I am ?”

-“ You don’t strike me as an emotional or loud drunk. I’m hoping you’re either a flirty drunk or a very honest one.”

-“ Oh yeah ? Why is that ?” you asked, trying not to let a smirk creep on your face

-“ Because then I can ask you if you like me back and either you’ll flirt back or you’ll tell me the truth and I’ll know for sure how you feel about me.”

-“ So you really like me ?”

-“ I thought I made it obvious sweetheart but yes, I like you y/n.” Mark said, the pet name rolling off his tongue naturally

-“ Ok ok, just making sure.”

-“ So you’re not going to tell me if you like me back or not ?”

-“ I think you’ll have to wait until I’m a little drunk to get that answer, Mark.” you teased him

-“ Then can I go buy you a drink ?”

-“ If you insist, I’ll have a rum and coke please.” you said moving towards the bar to accompany him

-“ Go to the VIP area, I’ll bring the drink to you once you’re sitting down.” Mark smiled, motioning to the corner of the club you had seen him before he made his way to you

You nodded watching as his tall figure disappeared in the sea of people. You could still feel how warm your cheeks were from indulging in his game but you didn’t regret it. You felt good, the season was over and all you wanted to do was relax and enjoy yourself.

You started to try and navigate the crowd to reach where you were supposed to wait for Mark but before you could make any real progress, a very drunk Jenson arrived right in front of you.

-“ Y/n ! You really came ?” Jenson happily slurred, pulling you into a hug

-“ Of course, I did. Congratulations on your win Jenson. It’s well deserved.” you said with your head resting on his shoulder

-“ Thank you, love. I’m really glad you’re here.” he muttered before stepping away from the hug

-“ It’s not like we see each other at every race, you know ?” you teased him

-“ It’s not the same. I can’t really be the way I want with you because of work…”

-“ And what way is that, Mister World Champion ?”

-“ I can’t ask you out properly at work, this is the first time I did.”

-“ You were asking me out ?”

-“ Of course I was. You’re gorgeous, funny, incredibly intelligent and you drive me up the wall. What’s there not to like ?”

-“ Jenson. You flirt with everyone, how am I supposed to believe you really like me ?” you deadpanned

-“ I don’t flirt with anyone like I flirt with you, love. I don’t want to be with anyone like I want to be with you. I thought I had made it pretty obvious but I’ll do better”

-“ What do you mea–” you try to answer

Before you could finish your sentence, Jenson cupped your face with his hands and crashed his lips on yours. Taken aback at first, you stayed frozen not expecting the kiss. Once you fully realised what was happening, your lips moved on their own, returning it.

Jenson’s lip tasted like champagne and what could only be described as pure victory. You could feel him smile when he felt your hand sneaking on the back of his neck. The kiss was tame at first until Jenson playfully bit your lower lip, giving him access to your mouth. From there the kiss turned heated and it was a clash of teeth and tongue. Jenson’s hands snuck around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally separated from each other to breathe, Jenson looked like he had won the greatest prize of all. You tried to keep staring at him but his hungry eyes made you blush and you looked elsewhere, bringing your fingertips to your mouth, still not sure the kiss had really happened.

When you looked back at him, Jenson seemed like he wanted to say something but it was his turn to get stopped. This time it was by Alonso who wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder before shoving a glass in his hands, unaware of the moment he had just ruined.

Jenson thanked his Spanish friend before turning his attention back on you but Mark was back next to you. You offered a small smile to the Brit as Mark led you to the VIP corner, his hand proudly resting on the small of your back. All Jenson could do was stare longingly at the pair of you as you slowly disappeared in the crowd, leaving him still troubled by the passionate moment you had just shared.

Part of him wanted to follow the two of you so that you and Mark weren’t alone but he hoped that the kiss would have been enough to convince you to choose him. He had made his affection clear so now all he could do was wait for you to come to him. Plus, it was his party, it would be a shame not to enjoy himself so he downed the glass Alonso had given him before following the Spaniard on the packed dance floor.

The night kept going and after drinking what Mark bought you, you decided to go dancing a little with Hanna who had joined Seb for the last race of the season. The two of you danced until your feet hurt because of the heels you were both wearing so when the pain became unbearable, you went back to the VIP area to sit down for a bit.

Jenson was still nowhere to be seen so you sat between Mark and Seb while Hanna sat between her boyfriend and Kimi. At first the boys were too deep into their conversations to pay attention to you but soon enough Mark looked at you with a smile, nudging your shoulder with his playfully.

-“ You looked good out there.”

-“ Did I ? I didn’t realise you were looking at me.”

-“ I mean you always look good but this dress looks insane on you sweetheart. It’s hard not to stare when you’re looking this pretty. ” Mark winked

-“ You don’t look so bad yourself. Your shirt suits you. It’s nice to see you in something other than your racing suit although fireproofs look crazy good with your body.” you blurted, the alcohol letting you say whatever came to your mind

-“ You’re definitely drunk.”

-“ What gave it away, Sherlock Holmes ?”

-“ You never complimented me when you were sober.”

-“ I did ! I told you you had made a nice move on Seb in Spa.”

-“ Sweetheart, I’m not talking about racing compliments.”

-“ Oh… Well you always look good in whatever you’re wearing so there’s a compliment.”

-“ Do you know what else I’d look good in ?”

-“ Tell me.”

-“ I’ve been told I look pretty good wearing nothing at all.” Mark teased, bringing his face closer to yours

-“ Mark ! There’s people around, don’t tease.” you whisper-shouted as you blushed, his face even closer now

-“ Can I kiss you ?”

As soon as you nodded, Mark’s hand raised your chin and he delicately pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was nothing like the one you had shared with Jenson. For starters, Mark’s lips didn’t really taste of anything other than just Mark. That wasn’t a bad thing, it was just different. Mark was also a lot less aggressive when he kissed. While you and Jenson had been battling each other for dominance in your kiss, Mark was more than happy to slowly and languidly kiss you, following whatever lead you took.

His other hand was resting on your thigh, rubbing circles absentmindedly with his thumb while yours were tangled in his hair. This didn’t feel like making out. You were just kissing because you wanted to. With Jenson it had felt like you needed to kiss in order for your heart to beat, in order to stay alive.

With Mark, kissing him felt like being in the eye of the hurricane. You knew everything around was chaos but the kiss gave you a little breathing room. It gave you a temporary shelter to whatever was unfolding around you.

When you pulled away from the kiss to breathe, Mark’s thumb was stroking your cheek. He pecked your lips before sliding closer to you on the couch you were sitting on. Now that the moment was pretty much over, Seb slapped a hand on Mark’s thighs to congratulate him for finally making a move on you.

-“ He’s been pining for you for so long, it was starting to get a little sad.” Seb joked

-“ It wasn’t sad Seb, shut up. I just know what I want, that's all.”

-“ Are you going to tell Jense about it or should I break the news to him ?”

-“ I’ll do it, just not tonight. It’s his night, let’s not ruin it.”

-“ Oh my God ! Jenson !” you muttered, making all the heads snap back towards you

-“ What is it sweetheart ?”

-“ It’s actually a funny story but hum Jenson, well I did too I suppose so, Jenson and I kissed a few hours ago.” you admitted, scared of how Mark was going to react

-“ Oh, Jenson gets a little touch deprived when he’s drunk. He’d kiss anyone he can..” Mark reassured you

-“ Earlier this year he even tried to kiss me.” Seb remembered with a laugh

-“ So don’t worry about it. Chances are, he won’t even remember it tomorrow. That’s usually what happens when he kisses someone at random without feelings.” Mark affirmed, trying to be convincing enough for you to forget about it

You were too focused on Mark to notice the look exchanged between the two other drivers. Seb looked uncomfortable at the statement and asked Hanna if she wanted to dance, using the excuse to leave. Kimi was glaring at Mark menacingly. It’s not like it was his business or that he cared but even he knew that Jenson’s feelings about you were genuine. So in his book, Mark’s comment wasn’t one of a good friend but a very manipulative one which he didn’t really like so he just stood up and left.

Now left alone again, you and Mark used the opportunity to talk some more, really getting to know one another out of a professional context. Mark was pretty funny and kissing him every once in a while made you feel pretty giddy so your smile never left your face that night.

When you finally decided to go back to your hotel, Mark insisted on walking you back which you accepted. You had wanted to say goodnight to Jenson but when your eyes fell on the Brit, he was hugging someone with long hair rather closely so you let Mark drag you away toward the exit.

If only you had stayed a second later, you’d have realised that the person hugging Jenson was none other than Fernando who was trying his best to hold his drunk friend up while Jenson’s body wanted nothing more than to touch the floor and lay there forever.

Now convinced that Jenson wasn’t serious about you, you invited Mark back into your room without remorse. If Jenson could have fun, so could you. This night turned into regular meetings at your hotel every race until Mark properly took you on a date and asked you out. Since the two of you had fun together and liked each other, you agreed to date him but kept your relationship private.

After his night of partying, Jenson remembered the kiss very clearly and he knew you had been sober so he came to the conclusion you hadn't enjoyed the kiss as much as he had. Or maybe you simply didn’t like him back. With that in mind, Jenson slowed down on the flirting during your interviews, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

Little did he know that by doing that, he was just convincing you that he didn’t like you like that and had just acted because of the alcohol. This whole situation just pushed you further into Mark’s arms and when you were finally ready, you made your relationship public.

Seeing you and Mark kiss for the first time was like a punch in the gut for Jenson. He had known there had been a chance of losing you to Mark but up until then, he was convinced neither of them managed to seduce you. Knowing that he no longer had a chance with you broke his heart but like the good friend he was, the Brit congratulated the both of you and only expressed how happy he was for you.

He wanted you to be happy more than anything. It was just a shame you had found happiness in Mark’s arms instead of his but he’d live with that as long as the smile on your face stayed there.

#mark webber x reader #jenson button x reader #mark webber #jenson button #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n

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class1akids · 29 days

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Am I the only one that finds it weird that the shoto - dabi fight is the one that has the least child visuals between them toga-uraraka and deku-shigaraki.

I think it weird bc unlike the other two dabi and shoto have a lot of similarities between their childhoods and their anger towards their father so child visuals would have been imapctfull bc it isn't just about saving the other but it's about the fact that shoto understand dabi.

We only got one visual of them as kids but it didn't hit hard bc that wasn't how they were feeling (at least on the outside) at that point the fight was between dabi the villain and shoto the hero

Neither was looking at the other in a sentimental way (at that point)

I disagree that it didn't hit. It's true that it wasn't sentimental, but Touya is different from Toga and Tenko. His child "origin self" is a grumpy 13-year old.

I think in the fight between Dabi and Shoto, the question was whether there was even a "Toya" anymore to dig out or did that boy die on Sekoto peak. Dabi says that Toya "died" when he went home and found no change - which means that this boy who kept believing that his family would look at him if he kept trying lost hope at that point and was living for revenge.

Shoto showing up, making a move for him, forcing him to look his way achieved in the end that we finally saw Toya's inner self come through, we saw that he's still very much just a crying boy desperate to be still seen.

I think that the child selves we see here manifest actually what they are doing in the real world perfectly. Toya is still desperate to prove himself. Shoto is a child fighting for his family. The image is tragic and in the next chapter you see the devastation on Shoto's face - how hard this was for him. And I think it is left on this note because next we go to Endeavor, the man who didn't show up for Toya and who is not there while his sons are engaged in a death battle. So I think this is the mood that this image aims at, and it's not cute or sentimental, but I think it hits really hard. At least for me, it does.

And yeah, maybe it would be easier if we saw them do some kind of cute play-fight or whatever, but because saving Toya is the job of the entire family, we don't get this image until they all show up for him (primarily his father who wronged him). And because Toya is the "family villain", not only Shoto's villain, this child-image gets spread around. Toya sees his child self surrounded by his family and then he also sees Shoto as a child.

I think that means something, and I hope Hori will follow this up later - and it will lead to more connection between Shoto and Toya.

It's harder for them than any of the other "pairs", because while Toga and Tomura sought out Ochako and Izuku and they both just someone / anyone to show up and accept them, that's not what Touya needs.

His inner child is older, and not only he never wanted Shouto, he represents to Touya "Endeavor's masterpiece", the replacement, the reason he was thrown away. Shouto is probably the last person Touya wants. It's not as simple as them bonding over hating their dad. Shouto does validate Touya's anger (but not his methods) and he's trying to find common points between them. But bonding over rage would be counterintuitive to what the narrative tells us about negative emotions. Shouto has been ruled for long by his rage too and took him a lot of work to change. I think that Touya needed to be confronted with Shouto's change - and feel that literally on himself when he copied Phosphor. Phosphor is Shouto's self-expression, his healing, his heart - and Touya being able to copy that I think means that there is still hope for him.

So considering how Shouto had nothing Touya wanted, the fact that he was able to dig out Touya's child self from under Dabi's rage and then make him see Shoto not as a puppet, but as a real crying child / brother as well is hard-earned connection between them.

Not as cute maybe as the others, but to me it really means the world. I think just because the no-jutsu is not easy in their case doesn't mean that what happened is less important.

I still have hope that Shouto will get his narrative reward too in a more direct depiction of connection. If Hori thought Toya was irredeemable, and was planning to make him die full of hate, I don't think he would have drawn Touya as a child at all.

#c1a asks #todoroki shouto #dabi #todoroki touya #dabi vs shouto #i don't know #this fight is so beautiful and haunting to me #there are a lot of very difficult emotions in play

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justaghostingon · 1 year

Text

How to be a Bad Husband without Shijie getting Mad at You

A guide by Wei Wuxian

An arranged marriage au because i’ve been reading to many of them recently.

Just after the sunshot campagin, the jiang are still rebuilding, and jiang cheng realizes he has a problem

The jin want to marry jin zuxian to yanli, and take the jiang in as a vassal state, which he doesn’t want

And wei wuxian’s rep isn’t doing them any favors

He needs to rebuild his alliances, establish themselves, and do it fast

So when the lan’s offered a new treaty he said yes immediately, before reading it

He really should have read it, because it wasn’t a treaty, it was lan xichen, tired of his brother’s pining, offering an engagement deal between lan zhan and wei wuxian

Now jiang cheng can’t back out without losing face, and in this state he really can’t afford too.

So wei wuxian finds himself engaged to lan zhan, counting down the days towords their rapidly approaching marriage

As you can imagine, wei Wuxian is not happy about marrying someone who he thinks hates him and his cultivation methods

He complains bitterly to shijie and jiang cheng

Jiang cheng is as annoyed as he is but he can’t think of a way out without rhe lans drawing out first

Wei wuxian says he’ll just drive lan zhan away! Make him want to divorce!

Then yanli steps in, and scolds wei wuxian fiercely,

See lan zhan is marrying out, coming to yumeng to live to a culture he doesn’t know among strangers.

Jiang yanli, who was engaged to do the same once upon a time, has been trained on what to expect, a s knows exactly how hard it can be for someone who doesn’t have her husband’s respect

So help her, her brother will not be one of those faithless dogs!

Neither jiang cheng nor wei wuxian have ever heard yanli call anyone “faithless dog,” and in that moment she looks too much like her mother for either of them to cross her

But wei wuxian’s not out of the game yet.

No one knows lan wangji better than him

This goody-goody is here to play martyr, to play cleansing and keep wei wuxian from his wicked ways, but he doesn’t really like him

He’s hear to be a jailer, not a husband.

All wei ying has to do is treat him like a husband, with all the affection, touch, and teasing that comes with it! Lan Wangji’s three least favorite things!

Lan wangji will be screaming for divorce in a week!

Wei wuxian doesn’t get to put his plan into action until after the wedding, as he isn’t allowed to see lan wangji until then

But once its over, he puts his plan in full swing

First step: cuddling. Lan Wangji hates touch, wei wuxian loves it. So naturally to drive lan wangji mad, he needs to touch him constantly, sitting in his lap, holding his hand, cuddling at night, etc

This does not work. Lan wangji was a little hesitant at first, but now he seems to be tolerating it with only the slight reddening of his ears to show his rage

He even seems upset when wei wuxian isn’t sitting in his lap!

Wei wuxian thought at first that this was because they were inside their house and home, but when he plopped himself down on lan zhan’s lap at a sect conference, in fromt of everyone…lan zhan put his ARMs around his WAIST like this was NORMAL

Now wei Wuxian is the weird one who’s tucking his head into lan wangji’s neck, embarrassed

From this experience wei wuxian realizes something: Lan Zhan’s a secret cuddle bug!!!

He just never got the chance thanks to all those stuffy clan rules

And well, wei wuxian can’t leave a fellow cuddle bug hanging can he? Think about all thr hugs lan zhan has missed that he needs to make up for! He’ll just have to think of something else.

Step Two: presents. Lan zhan never liked any of the porn or alchol wei wuxian tried to give him before, so clearly he’s gonna hate it if wei wuxian gives him that and more!

Wei wuxian starts piling lan wangji with gifts. Porn! They’re married now so he can’t refuse! Alcohol, the best of the best! Spicy food he made himself! This pretty ribbon he saw at thr market and thought of lan zhan! This lantern with a bunny on it! That silk with bunnies…this painting of bunnies…

He might have gone a bit overboard with the bunnies

No matter what he gives him, lan wangji takes it with solemn grattitude, and tries it out. This proves a problem when lan wangji keeps eating the spicy food even as it clearly hurts him

Shijie frowns disaprovingly at him once while watching lan wangji guzzle water, and wei ying swore to do it never again

The less said about the alcohol incident the better

There is one more serious gift he gives lan wangji, one he knows he won’t dissaprove of. Smuggled among the presents and clothes, he brings in new “attendents” who look suspiciously like those wen remandents who seemingly vanished into thin air from their containment camp.

Lan wangji takes them in gravely, and soon their home is filled with the sound of laughter as a small boy runs after lan zhan

So clearly gifts aren’t working. Time for step three: sex

…..

…..lan zhan won.

Maybe all those gifts of porn were a bad idea, sullying such a pure mind

At this point Wei Wuxian is getting desperate, nothing he does is making lan wangji less willing to marry him. Its time for desprate measures…

Step Four: tell the truth. He’s never going to stop demonic cultivation and return to the sword path. He can’t.

He needed to tell him anyway, with all the touching they do, it was only a matter of time before he figured it out himself.

Lan Wangji says nothing as wei wuxian explains how he lost his core (still not mentioning how, he’ll take jiang cheng’s secret to the grave) how he was in the burial mounds, how its gone, gone gone and this is all he has left!

Before he knows it he’s a sobbing mess, tears and snot trailing down his face.

Not a very pretty picture for a husband huh?

Lan wangji only opens his arms, and pulls wei wuxian close, letting him cry himself silly in his arms.

It hurts, but it also feels good, safe, like lan zhan is a rock who will stay steady even against the tide of his own emotions

Still, it was a lot, and once he calms down he thinks this time, for sure, lan wangji will leave. He was kind in the confession, because that’s his nature, but surely, surely he doesn’t want to stay chained to a man who can’t even cultivate.

Jiang yanli asks to speak to lan wangji privately, to check in on how he’s adjusting, and wei wuxian sneaks in to listen, bracing for the worst

…when had the worst become lan zhan leaving?

Yanli asks if he has any complains, wei wuxian tenses, and lan zhan…

“I’ve never been so happy,” lan zhan says, because lan’s do not lie.

Wei wuxian is so shocked he tumbles from his hiding place. Yanli frowns with exasperation at him but all his attention is on lan wangji

Do you mean it? He asks

Of course,” lan wangji nods, then adds, “i love you” as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Wei wuxian is laughing, he’s crying, he has an armful of lan zhan and the taste of his lips and well…

Maybe this marriage thing is pretty great actually.

The end

#the untamed #the untamed au #mo dao su zhi #mdsz #mdsz au #arranged marriage #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wei ying #lan zhan #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #wens #wen qing and wen ning were fake mustaches to disguise themselves and gaslight jiang cheng into believing they’re someoen else #wangxian #wangxian au

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comfortless · 1 month

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Your writing is so good !! <3

If you was working in kortac too and Konig started developing feelings, do you think he’d be scared ? Like if he’s never felt that type of love before, do you reckon he’d prompt you to retire if things started getting serious ?And also do you think he’d just be scared to feel that deep sense of love in general

i don’t think this guy has much fear at all: König says what’s on his mind no matter how inappropriate or blunt. if he finds himself attracted to a teammate it might take a bit of time for him to test the waters a bit, only because he’s rather accustomed to women finding him terrifying or ugly or both.

his courtship methods are peculiar: staring her down until it’s downright unnerving just to see how long it takes for her to shy away, casually hissing the filthiest things he can think of in German to her in the hopes that she doesn’t understand, sitting far too close to her during meals or briefings, maybe even leaving a clipping from a book of poetry or something nice beneath her door to show he isn’t entirely incapable of actual romance. though… there are other times he might flick his knife out, pull up the hood enough to reveal the lower half of his face and give it a playful lick while her eyes are on him.

he’s not entirely obvious, but not entirely subtle either, just gives enough to catch her attention if she’s willing to give it.

god help her if she is.

Kortac is a PMC, his title really doesn’t mean much, and he’s aware of it. they pass ‘em out like candy; he’s punched the guy they refer to as “the General” before. they’re all well aware he can handle himself and pick up for anyone’s slack; he’s the perfect asset for a bloodbath. so, as far as repercussions go? there are none, and even if there were i can’t see him caring too much about some smaller man trying to convince him sleeping with the woman he’s head over heels for is wrong due to a set of arbitrary rules.

if she’s in his line of work as opposed to being some sort of maintenance employee — he’s overbearing. demanding never to have her sent off on a mission without him, distracted trying to ensure her safety and regrettably… neglecting his own duties to an extent. it’s uncharacteristic and frustrating for him.

he gets to give this sweet angelic thing all of the affection and orgasms she can bear now, but… why is she here at all? it’s hot to see her with a gun, sure, but… she should be home, safe, waiting for him to return with tears in her eyes and eager hands reaching for him the moment he steps through the door. she should be sweet and warm; let him take care of all of the bad in the world and make her feel as though her life has become intertwined with some hero’s. women like that sort of thing, he’s seen it time and time again as a boy with his nose stuck in a comic book.

he’s not above bullying her a little to get her to agree: purposefully misplacing important things for her like her weapons, articles of her uniform. his rank may not be anything more than a word, but he’ll tell her he finds her unsuited for the work — he would know.

if that’s not working then perhaps he does tell her through gritted teeth that he wants her to wait at home for him. he’s even got the ring ready, some pretty old thing from his oma or his mother in preparation for this very day. it doesn’t matter if this has been going on for two weeks or a year, König would be happy to make her his wife, happy to write her letters while he’s deployed and take her on every surface when he’s home.

it’s the most intimidating marriage proposal ever when he’s glaring up at her like that while he kneels, promising her an abundance of sex and a powerful man to guard her with his life. she’s supposed to love him, so wouldn’t that make her happy too..?

#Kö being a bit terrible with relationships is canon to me sorry #he’s not afraid to fall in love but his significant other probably should be…!

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lets-try-some-writing · 2 months

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I had the most dumb yet sensible thought when it comes to your Pretender AU. Megatron discovering ways to deal with Optimus accidentally through human media. Particularly horror media like The Thing, Among Us, Bloodborne, Alien, SCP and such.

A thing that Soundwave would stumble upon by accident before realizing this could come in handy and share with it the other Decepticons. It's kinda ironic in a way. Organics having what could be the key to handling this entire mess through their entertainment based media.

Plus they probably look to YouTube for channels like Roanoke Gaming who discusses the various intricacies like mythology, biology and such on media creatures such as Xenomorphs.

Oh goodness this is FUNNY.

Previous part here.

This is kinda crack so honestly its up in the ether plot relevance wise.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The Pretenders tried to flee Cybertron as soon as they deemed the planet unsuitable. Megatron wanted to scoff when he caught wind of the Pretend Prime and his entourage fleeing the sector. He had every intention of ruling Cybertron and left more than enough soldiers behind to tend to the planet in his absence, but he simply could not allow the Pretenders to go. If they got any ground anywhere, they would spread and be back.

The Pretender Prime had long since proven to be capable of holding a grudge, and Megatron was in no mood to shove the issue under the rug until it came back to bite him. As such, he collected his inner circle, Jazz included, and boarded the Nemesis. He set course for the planet the Pretenders were headed toward with grim determination, and upon landing, he almost wanted to scream due to the sheer amount of organic everything. It reminded him of the Pretenders and he despised being on the ground.

Thus, while his subordinates did everything in their power to root out the Pretenders wherever they were rooted on the planet of Earth, Megatron delved into the human datanet with Soundwave at his side. Jazz joined them on occasion, and through this shared effort, they discovered possible methods to combat their foes that they never would have expected. The ideas were... a tad outlandish. But having tried just about everything else under the sun to kill their enemies, the Decepticons were willing to make an attempt to follow the potential solutions provided.

Having watched "Earnest Scared Stupid" one time, the Vehicons attempted to deal with the Pretenders through the use of milk. It was a one time effort, and the Pretenders were more dumbfounded than actually upset at the milk that was tossed all over them. Seeing as they didn't melt into goo, the Vehicons ran screaming.

Jazz made a valiant attempt to use voodoo magic a handful of times, which ended up resulting in a small storage closet being filled to the brim with collections of dolls stuffed with needles. He also tried a few banishing rituals just for the kick of it. And surprisingly, after one of his attempts which involved an offering the some demon Jazz never bothered to remember, Arcee ended up stepping into a hole and breaking her leg. Since then Jazz has occasionally repeated the ritual just to see if anything else happens.

Starscream saw several movies and decided that water might be a possible way to combat the Pretenders. Being the most reliable flier, he took to the air and decided that Arcee would be the best target. He picked her up, and making sure to wear gloves so as to not actually touch her, he threw her into the nearest body of water and waited above. Arcee for her part flailed and got out with a hiss of indignation, her plating flaring and her extra limbs extending so that she could shake off the liquid. The most Starscream got for his efforts was a dirty look, but his work was applauded when he returned to the Nemesis. Touching a Pretender was always a dangerous risk to take.

Megatron opted for a slightly more... violent solution. He had attempted chemical warfare, bombing, outright attacks, poison, and even manufactured diseases to fight back against his foes. None of his efforts so much as gave him a reasonable weakness to use against them. While young, Pretenders were easy to kill. But after that all he really had to target was their familial connections. There were no physical defects to attack or use against them. They adapted, and as much as he was loath to admit it, they were disgustingly superior when it came to most physical activities. They were resistant to just about everything too. So really there were only two options in his mind.

The Pretenders operated similarly to organics. And according to what he saw, two things that killed organics most often were freezing cold and fire. Thus, his vehicons were given flamethrowers for a time and when the opportunity arose, Optimus was thrown into the arctic for observation. The vehicons for their part managed to make the Pretenders scatter, but fire did nothing against them that it didn't do for a normal Cybertronian. The freezing on the other hand? Freezing could kill a bot, at least in a moist environment. But against the odds, as soon as Optimus found he couldn't escape on his own, the Prime dug a hole into the ground and curled up into a ball, his frame stilling. For a moment Megatron thought he might have won, but then as soon as the other Pretenders came to get him, they dragged the Prime out and back to their base. Within a week he was up and moving again.

The monsters could hibernate it seemed. And that terrified Megatron more than he cared to admit.

The Decepticons only true success came when Soundwave decided to attempt using sound to their advantage. The Pretenders were incredibly sensitive, their optics, audials, and olfactory systems all primed for hunting. Seeing "The Quiet Place", Soundwave noted the similarities between the Pretenders and the Angels and opted to make an attempt at using the same attack against their foes. To the surprise of everyone, he...

Succeeded.

When Soundwave played music on just the right frequency on the battlefield, the Pretenders began to scream. Their frames shifted, their disguises falling away and simultaneously being forced back into place. Unable to control their frames fully, they could only thrash and fight like wild animals as their senses were assaulted from all sides. It was not enough to kill them, but the weakness was swiftly acknowledged and abused.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Another step closer to victory.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #arcee #optimus prime #megatron #alternate universe #soundwave #starscream #vehicons #pretender au

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itbmojojoejo · 4 months

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Indelicate Tenderness | Part 2

Pairing: Sihtric x Ealdorman's Wife!Reader

Summary: Your marriage to a much older Ealdorman was a political move and the inability to produce an heir in the traditional manner leads to your husband suggesting you look to another man for assistance. The rules? He must be the right sort, keep emotions out of it, and no one can learn of the affair so that he can claim the child as his own.

Wordcount: 4.5k | Part 1 | Other works.

Warnings: MDNI18+ Content. No use of y/n. Talks of having a child, Infidelity, Oral(f receiving), Unprotected PinV(I will not write about medieval contraception methods.) If I have missed anything please let me know!

Authors Note: I know I said I wasn't doing this but shhhh the muses returned. Minimal editing, half of this beta read like 5 months ago when it was just bones. Enjoy!

Hazy shades of orange and yellow slowly crept up the walls of the large bedroom as you stared up into the wooden rafters, your fingers sliding one of the pendants decorating your neck along its thick chain listening to the distant chirping of birds as the waking servants began their working day drowning out the peaceful sounds.

With a huff, you rolled over to see the clouds crawling across the sky through the open window before your eyes took in the empty space beside you in the bed. Your mind drifted to Sihtric, how would the morning sky light his features? Would he hold me? But before your mind could wonder too much about how mornings would be with the Pagan, a knock at your door pulled you back into your reality.

You silently dressed with the assistance of Inga, an older widower with gentle eyes and a kind smile who had been allowed to remain on the estate instead of joining the order due to her loyalty.

Helping lace the front of your long-sleeved overdress she spoke of her predictions for the day's weather, the odd hmm and ahh leaving your lips at the right time feigning interest. In truth, you were dreading having to break fast with Eadwold knowing the evening before you had been in the meadow with Sihtric.

It was as you shifted uncomfortably on the wooden chair, trying your hardest to focus on peeling the apple in your hands instead of untangling the incoherent thoughts in your mind that Eadwold’s eyes fell on you,

“Are you feeling alright dear? You’ve not said a word all morning.”

“Oh, sorry, I don’t think I slept too well.”

“Hmm.” Your husband quickly looked you over, “Will you oversee the training yard this afternoon? I will be with the Bishop.”

“No.” You blurted all too quickly in a moment of panic. You wanted to see Sihtric again, to make sure that he would keep what it was that had happened between you secret, maybe even discover if he would allow it again, but you were unsure how to keep your actions and emotions neutral in such a public space.

“No?” Eadwold asked, eyeing you carefully as you rushed to offer him a reason,

“I just don’t believe that they need me there, after all, what do I know of fighting? And besides, Osgar will be present, will he not?”

“You’re quite right.” He nodded with a smile, pushing his morning oats around a bowl with his spoon.

“How long will the Bishop be with us this time lord?”

“Only the one night, he is just passing through but I do expect you to join us for dinner and not galavanting off in the woods until nightfall.”

“I was hoping to be spared his judgements.” You grumbled. The bishop had a habit of insinuating that it was your failure for the lack of an heir, but of course, Eadwold would never correct him and or his accusations.

“I will have a word this afternoon, spin a tale of sadness so that he might not wish to bring up the subject.”

After breakfast you decided to exit the house via the bustling kitchen full of the smell of baking pastries and meats to avoid the training yard, slightly smiling to yourself that Inga had been correct in her predictions for a cloudier day.

The cooler air was welcomed as you walked through the trees on the now well-known trodden path taking you to the stone buildings you sought out, apprehension and doubt shrouding your thoughts. What if he regrets it? What if he wishes to not see me again?

It was as your fingers pressed onto the ageing wooden door of his temporary home that you took a deep breath deciding that he would not turn you away, his past actions no matter how small spoke volumes.

You seated yourself on the end of his bed looking around the single room and spotted his leather armour resting on a table in the corner along with his axe propped against the wall. As time seemed to slowly creep on you got lost in the chipped mosaic pictures that decorated the space when a silhouette passed by the window, shortly followed by the door being shoved open.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” You greeted Sihtric, watching as he took his hand away from his sword and his response came sharply,

“Is that wise? Will people not become suspicious if you keep walking off into the woods when they know us men are down here?”

“Are you afraid?” You asked, your eyes searching his.

“Yes, but not for me lady, for you.”

Quickly pushing yourself off the bed and stepping into his space you cupped his cheeks and crushed your lips to his hoping to eradicate any doubts he may have. As he kissed you back slowly, a sigh escaped you and you relaxed into his touch as his hands roamed your waist.

The brush of his lips and the warmth of his touch was enough to have any thoughts slip your mind completely, it was only as Sihtric walked you backwards til your legs hit the wooden frame of his bed that you managed to string words together, speaking them against his mouth, “I have to be back before sunset.”

“Plenty of time.” He mumbled back with his hands untying the laces of your overdress.

The rough pads of his fingers left a trail of goose-pricked skin in their wake as he gently pushed the fabric away from your chest and down your arms, revealing the thin-strapped underdress. Sihtric kissed and nipped at the column of your neck up to your jawline before capturing your lips once more, mumbling an instruction against them, “Sit.”

You landed on the bed with more force than expected and a small huff escaped you as you watched him remove his sword belt, his hands paused with his tongue darting out to wet his lips which were growing into a smirk.

“Take off your boots, lady.”

Internally cursing at the shake of your hands you discarded the leather shoes to the side, a breath hitching in your throat as Sihtric pulled his tunic over his head, revealing the hard planes of his abdomen and defined chest muscles.

Stepping closer he nudged your legs to part and came to stand between your now spread thighs. Looking up at him from under your lashes your cheeks involuntarily became warm and you hesitantly placed your hands on his hips bringing him even closer, letting your fingers drag across his taut stomach and linger there.

His eyes looked as though they wanted to devour you whole as he brought his hands up to cradle your jaw, pressing a thumb against your slightly parted lips. Teasingly you slowly swiped the tip of your tongue up the pad of his thumb to which he hummed and leaned down to kiss you as he came to rest on his knees.

Sihtric’s hands trailed up your thighs, moving your shift up with the movement and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed making a wetness begin to gather between your thighs, “Lay back.” He spoke softly against your mouth and you nervously did as you were told.

He pushed the thin fabric up past your hips, exposing your glistening core to him. You gasped as his head dipped between your spread legs and he licked through your folds, flicking the tip as he reached your clit. As he repeated the motion your hand grabbed at his loose curls and you felt him smirk against you.

You began to relax into the sensation as his tongue worked at the bundle of sensitive nerves and he teased your entrance with a finger. A sweet sigh fell from your lips as he pushed in slowly, and began to stroke at your walls that had your hips lightly rutting against him.

Sihtric’s warm calloused hand gripped at the soft flesh of your thigh as he added a second digit and your sweet sighs turned into desperate moans tumbling one after the other. Your chest heaved with the building tension that so badly wanted to be released, and sensing that need, Sihtric added more pressure with the rapid movements of his tongue, groaning into you as your breath hitched and release came.

You fought against the tremors in your legs and the stutter of your hips as you tried to regain the composure of your breathing but the Dane between your thighs didn’t relent. He carried on fucking into you with his fingers, hungrily lapping up your juices and overstimulating all of your senses.

“Sihtr-” You gasped with a spasm struggling to speak, “Too much.”

He hummed with a smirk you felt against your heated skin as you weakly tugged him away from your core, the cool metal of his heavy pendant bumping against you producing another gasp.

As he planted hot open-mouthed kisses to your thighs and over your hips you pulled your shift up and over your head, throwing it to the floor before laying back down. Sihtric moved you further up the bed and settled between your thighs once more, and with his breeches now loose and down his thighs you looked away, not watching as he lined himself up and thrust into you with one fluid movement.

A strained curse fell from Sihtric as he paused, nipping at your neck and peppering kisses along your jaw and up to your cheek.

Skimming his lips over yours, Sihtric quietly pleaded, “Look at me.”, as you obeyed and met his hazel gaze that was turning darker by the minute with lust he drew his hips back, licking into your mouth with a moan as he languidly rolled back into your tight sensitive walls and your eyes instinctively fluttered shut at the sensation.

With the roll of hips becoming quicker and deeper causing you to dig your nails into his back and arch up into him he urged once more for you to look at him, but you only buried your face into his neck.

It was as the familiar tightening returned to the pit of your stomach that everything came to an abrupt halt as the door opened,

“Siht-WOAH! Alright..” The Irishman exclaimed, unsure of where to avert his gaze before quickly turning on his heel and leaving the small house.

An icy cold fear hit the top of your head, drowning out Sihtric’s words and extinguishing all heat in your body as he untangled your limbs leaving you on the bed and all you could do was watch on in panic as he hurriedly tied his trousers leaving the house to follow Finan.

When the muffled voice of Finan hit your ears from outside you clambered off the bed and briskly pulled your shift and boots back on, accompanied by the fast heavy thudding of your heart and the sound of rushing blood in your ears. It was as you were wrapping the laces around your ankle that Sihtric returned with his voice quiet,

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. Sihtric we have been seen, I cannot stay.” You responded cooly, tugging the sleeves of your dress up your arms.

“It is only Finan and he will say nothing.” He soothed, stepping closer with his hands out but you avoided his gaze and walked around him exiting the door.

Foolish girl, you should know better than to think you could do this, of course you would be caught. Your mind raced with the cool air having little effect on your burning skin and as you got further into the trees heading home a branch snapping had you pause and look over your shoulder. Sihtric.

You said nothing to one another with him trailing close behind, regret slowly growing in your veins for being so quick to flee and as the trees began to thin and the gated wall was coming into sight you turned and leaned against a mossy tree trunk.

Your eyes wandered over Sihtric’s now clothed body as he came to a standstill in front of you, his lips quirking at the corner making you look to the floor hiding your own smile before a question fell from your mouth,

“Do I still feel like a stranger to you?”

Having a quick look around to check there was no one nearby he closed the space between the two of you and rested his hand on the tree above your head,

“You are not like any stranger I know.” He said, placing a soft kiss on your lips while hooking his hand under your knee and bringing it up to his hip.

Sihtric’s hand slipped down the back of your exposed thigh and his fingers stroked over your folds making you quietly gasp. He smirked pressing his thumb against your clit and pulled away as you went to kiss him again, “Come back to me tomorrow, lady.”

“I will try.” You breathed; pushing him away with a light laugh and readjusted your skirts before continuing the rest of the walk alone.

Whatever discussion Eadwold had earlier in the day with the Bishop must have worked in keeping his attention away from you, the pair along with some of the younger deans also travelling with the holy man didn’t speak a single word to you over dinner leaving you to excuse yourself from the table early with ease.

Every so often as you got ready for bed a wave of worry washed over your body remembering how Finan had caught you in a vulnerable position with Sihtric, but it was soon replaced with anticipation for seeing your Pagan the next day.

As you lay under the thin sheets waiting for sleep to find you the ghost of Sihtric’s husky plea swam through your mind, look at me, look at me, look at me.

“Siht-WOAH! Alright..” Finan’s exclamation cut through the atmosphere allowing a feeling of dread to replace the desire that had been flowing through his veins.

“Shit.” Sihtric cursed, trying his best to cover you from view when he saw the panic in your eyes, “I’ll handle it.” he promised and quickly followed Finan outside.

The Irishman threw his hands up in the air as he turned to face him, instantly raising his voice at Sihtric,

“Could you not-!” Sihtric hushed him and looked around, a silent warning that someone could overhear, “Could you not have just found a nice servant girl like the rest of us? You had to have the wife?”

“It isn’t like that.”

“Oh let me guess, she just offered herself up on a silver platter and you couldn’t say no.”

Sihtric sighed with a frown and the tilt of his head at his friend,

“Sihtric, do you have any idea what that man could do to you if he found out? That -” Finan pointed to the house to stress his point, “is a death sentence, my friend.”

“I know, but you will do and say nothing.”

The men stood under the cloudy sky looking at each other in a moment of silence, save for a few birds and the bubbling of the nearby stream. The lack of Finan’s response had Sihtric pleading, not for him, but for you, “Finan, please.”

Finan groaned and rubbed at his beard before finally answering, “Do you even need to ask?”

As Sihtric walked back through the door his stomach twisted in knots seeing you hurriedly lacing your boots. He wanted to selfishly plead that you stay there with him just a while longer, to show you that he could melt away all the worries that now clung to your body but he knew it was of no use the moment you pulled on the sleeves of your dress and rushed to tie its laces as you left the house, left him stood there still shirtless rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Sihtric was unsure what had possessed him to be so bold as to reach under your skirts and teasingly stroke at your folds in the open woods close to the estate, asking that you return to him. It is you, he thought to himself as you walked away leaving him behind once more, you have bewitched me.

That evening as he sat with Finan and the other men of their group around a fire with their cups of ale his mind drifted to you, as it so often did. He understood that you could not yield yourself to him completely, you were after all another man's wife, I shall take whatever little of you I can for as long as you allow me to.

He felt good in the morning, the potential promise of being able to see you again had him walking through the woods up to the walled estate with excitement. Apart from you, he found these lands to be bland and a little boring, you were the only thing preventing him from wanting to leave for Coocham as soon as possible.

Sihtric was careful not to snap his head towards the sight of you appearing at the main door of the hall, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw you stopped in your tracks by Osgar. As you stepped around the corner of the hall in the opposite direction he anticipated you to take he recognised the empty glazed-over look in your eyes all too well.

His curiosity was piqued further when Osgar carefully watched you walking away towards the rear of the yard and past the stables. Your usually graceful steps were full of tension, whatever it was that had been said to you couldn’t have been welcome and Sihtric felt annoyed that you may have been upset.

He had explored this entire estate along with some of the surrounding land and knew there was a gate in the direction you headed, he also knew this choice meant it was unlikely you planned to see him at all today.

After breaking fast you rushed to lace your walking boots with anticipation, your mind racing with salacious thoughts of how more time spent with your Pagan could go. Trying to ease the butterflies flitting excitedly in the pit of your stomach you approached the large doors of the hall scarcely avoiding walking head-first into the head of the house guard.

“Osgar?”

The tall Saxon peered down at you with a judgemental glint in his eyes as he questioned you,

“I haven’t seen you roaming the other parts of the land for some time now lady, what is it about those woods you enjoy so much?”

Standing firm your answer came without a falter,

“I happen to enjoy the solace I find at the willow trees.”

Osgar’s brow lifted slightly as he took you in, mulling over your response with his fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword. His sight drifted to the training yard and you dared not to follow knowing that he looked at Sihtric.

“As long as solace is all it is, lady.”

You gave an empty smile as you turned the corner of the hall, all too aware that it would raise further suspicion if you were to walk in the direction you so desperately wanted to, and pushed away the worries trying to fill your head.

It felt like an eternity had passed since you last strolled through the green fields at the rear of the property, every so often you found yourself stopping to look back at how far you had travelled before finally locating the old watch tower you would sit at.

Idly walking the full circle around the ruined tower your fingers skimmed over the coarse stonework, your mind fighting the urge to find and follow the nearby stream. If you were to simply walk alongside it through the woods you would eventually arrive where you wanted to be. Silly girl, you will not make it back home in time.

Pushing open the dilapidated door you walked to stand in the centre of the moss covered floor, the old wooden stairs that climbed around the walls had crumbled away so even if you wished to you would not have been able to look out from the top windows.

The sound of a throat being cleared had your hand shooting to the handle of the dagger belted at your waist as you spun to locate its origin.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, lady,” Sihtric smirked, standing in the doorway of the tower.

Releasing your hold on the dagger’s hilt you rolled your eyes, “So it would seem. Osgar’s been watching me.”

“Is that why you’re up here and not…” He nodded his head in the direction of his accommodation.

“I didn’t think it wise, if he’s been paying attention then who else has?”

Stepping closer, Sihtric reached out, lightly brushing the back of his knuckles down your warming cheek, “I could show you a different route?”

You gently shook your head, pressing a soft kiss to the backs of his fingers that remained lingering next to your mouth, “We won’t have time.”

With a sigh, he cupped your cheek with his other hand and rested his forehead on yours. Your gaze flickered from his lips to his hazel eyes and without hesitation, your fingers wrapped around the cord of his Miljnoir pendant pulling him closer for a deep kiss.

Your eyes fell shut as his soft lips parted, his tongue lightly tracing over yours asking for entry which you gave freely. What once felt like exploring unknown territory was beginning to feel familiar, the way you moved together in harmony trying to feed an insatiable hunger.

Sihtric’s hand slid down your cheek to your throat, his thumb brushing across to the other side holding you firmly. The low fire that had begun to burn in your deepest parts spread through your body as his other hand gripped your hair and pulled tightly, forcing your eyes open to meet his carnal stare.

“Your dress. Take it off.”

His hushed demand had you tugging at the knot of delicate threads holding the overdress tight to your chest, shrugging out of it and letting it fall to the ground without a second thought.

Releasing his hold on your throat, Sihtric pushed the strap of the underdress down your arm, his mouth trailing kisses over your goose-pricked shoulder from his touch as you slipped an arm out of the other, allowing the fabric to pool around your waist leaving you exposed.

He moved to cup your breast, pawing at the flesh roughly with his calloused hand making you gasp. Desperate to taste him again you pulled him back to your mouth, a hand quickly falling between your close bodies to palm at his growing erection.

The quiet sounds of your encounter grew louder within the confines of the small stone tower, the light spilling in from the eroded wooden roof aiding Sihtric in lifting and seating you onto a small ledge as your lips continued to meet and he shed his cuirass and tunic.

Sliding the underdress up past your thighs, Sihtric brought his middle and forefinger to his lips and wet them, staring into your hooded gaze as he swiped them through your already dampened folds and teased your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You nipped at his lip as your hands made quick work of unlacing his trousers. You slowly began to stroke his length, kissing and biting your way to his neck as you listened to the aching groans escaping Sihtric.

With a flurry of impatience, he aligned his cock with your entrance, pushing in with one quick fluid movement making you cry out at the sudden but welcome intrusion. Sihtric gripped the back of your neck, his lust-laden hazel gaze boring into yours as he drew his hips back and snapped them forward again.

Each of his hard thrusts punched broken, filthy noises from you as you clung to his body drowning in indecent bliss. To have your senses overwhelmed by Sihtric, the smell of his musk, the sound of his hoarse moans, the taste of his breath filling your lungs, it overpowered all guilt.

“Lady, look at me…” He whined, pressing his head against yours as you willed every sense in your body to obey, finally allowing him to see you completely wrecked and flushed from the onslaught of desire he seemed to bring about in you.

Yours and Sihtric’s joint waves of pleasure crashed at the exact same moment, his hold on your thigh became bruising with your tight walls clenching down on his thick cock as he emptied his seed into you. A strained whimper tumbled from his lips before crushing them to yours with his final slow thrusts increasing the ecstasy washing over you.

Soft kisses broken by small smiles and quiet laughs were shared as you helped each other dress, a blanket of contentedness shrouding the pair of you until you stepped out of the little tower to late afternoon growing into early evening.

Sihtric laced his fingers through yours and guided you into the treeline so he could walk you back without the risk of anyone on the high walls seeing the two of you approach.

“I did not know a heathen warrior could be so..tender.” You spoke up, enjoying the warmth emanating from his hold on your hand.

“You think I’m tender?” He scoffed with a smile.

“I did not say you were gentle, Sihtric.”

“Would a lady like you not prefer a gentleman?”

“No,” You sighed, “I have had enough of those men.”

“Hm, does he not touch you the way I do?” He asked playfully, lightly bumping his shoulder off of yours.

You laughed, “It isn’t like that, he cannot... perform.”

Sihtric’s brows raised as he gave you a side glance, “At all?”

You shook your head and wondered if that was something you should have admitted to the Dane, what if it was a secret he didn’t want to keep?

Sihtric hummed, “Imagine having such a pretty piece of flesh,” He pulled you into him by the waist carefully walking you backwards through the dense woods making you giggle, “dangled in front of you daily and never being able to devour it. I thank the gods it is not me that suffers this way.”

Running your hands up his arms you nudge his nose with yours before capturing his lips in a slow kiss beneath the trees and singing birds,

“You are unlike any man I have ever known.”

“And you are unlike any woman I have known.” He breathed,

“How so?”

“Beautiful, body and soul.” Sihtric smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

As you got closer to the walls you reluctantly released your fingers from Sihtric’s, instantly missing his touch. You took in the sight of the reddening sun painting shadows of leaves across his face, brightening patches of hues of browns and greens in his eyes, and the messy curls cascading from one side of his head that he hadn’t brushed through since your encounter in the tower.

Your words came quietly, and sadder than you intended,

“I don’t think I realised how lonely I truly was until you came here, Sihtric.”

Inhaling deeply through his nose he reached out and brushed his thumb along your cheek, “You should go, we don’t want a search party coming to look for you.”

#slides this fic across the table #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric x reader #tlk fanfic #sihtric fanfic #sihtric tlk

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azulock · 6 months

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I almost lost this thing due to a keyboard mishap, saved by the dedicated ctrlz button on my wacom, thanking my tablet for this save. anyway I'm pretty sure someone has done this concept already but two cakes rule apply, more is better.

summary. Reo shouldn't be fucking Nagi's girlfriend to begin with, he knew, but when his best friend was such a garbage boyfriend he couldn't help but fill in the void. now, cumming inside the girl unprotected, that was dangerous - and hot. pairing. Mikage Reo x F!reader

wordcount. 1,3k

warnings.nsfw (minors back off), cheating, unprotected sex, cumshot, a bit of breeding kink at the end

right?

Reo Mikage who indulges in how it feels to have you cheating on Nagi with him. it's a sick pleasure, something sadistic about being the one you turn to relive your frustration from dating his aloof best friend. truth be told, Nagi could be an annoyance even for him - so for Reo it could feel like getting back something he was owed.

and he definitely felt like he was owed, what with how many times he'd had to step in as mediator to save Nagi from his own fuckups in your relationship. Reo for sure deserved every second he'd spend in your folds not too long afterward. if he was putting so much work to salvage this whole thing, might as well reap the benefits.

it always started with you coming to complain to him about something. way back in the beginning, Reo would just listen and console you, all the while thinking how did such a pretty thing get stuck in a situation like this. sometimes he thought you'd just be better alone, that you should leave Nagi, but you just never managed to. and who was him to judge, he'd thought the same thing about himself and never found the strength to get rid of the guy either.

so if you are stuck, might as well be stuck together.

overtime, his hidden lust for you grew - he was just a guy after all, and you were hot. it filled him until, one day, it exploded. you were half drunk, just tipsy enough to get talkative, more so than usual, and you let it slip how frustrated you were. Nagi hadn't been pleasuring you properly, and that left you terribly pent up. well, Reo just couldn't stand for that.

on the morning after that first night, when he woke up by your side, that's when the sick pleasure took root. when you woke up - regret and worry painted on your face - Reo said he'd take full responsibility if Nagi ever discovered. but you both could just stay quiet, keep this one time fuckup a secret. you nodded, swore that this as a mistake, it would never happen again.

it took barely over a month for you two to have sex again. it was the same song and dance it would be for the next handful of times. honestly, he thought that after the fourth time even Nagi would notice, but he didn't. so Reo continued, and told himself he was still just consoling you, only his methods had changed. if he couldn't fix the problem - and god knows he tried - he could at least medicate the symptom.

maybe Reo couldn't take your headaches away, but he could at least soothe them by flushing your body with pleasure. soothe them by burying his face into you until the only name you knew was his own. by sheathing himself into your walls until there was nothing left but the pleasure. and it worked for him too, pleasure washing everything away until all he could focus on was the feeling of your body around his.

it was sinful, really, this mix of the pleasure from your wet walls taking him in so eagerly, with knowing he was doing something so wrong. the thrill was a powerful aphrodisiac, this little taste of revenge chasing his senses like a drug. to have you completely breathless and dumb under him - in ways he knew his Nagi didn't - it left Reo high and thirsty for more. even if he had spent most of the night fucking you already.

you'd arrived at his doorstep tired and teared up, but it didn't take long for you to be crying for a whole other reason. he couldn't leave bruises on your body - you had to keep it a secret, after all - but he could leave you stretched out and light headed. your body fucked out and brain fuzzy from the multiple orgasms. Reo was feeling his own mind slip, he'd fucked you three times already since the night began - hell, it was probably past midnight by now. maybe he should've stopped now that the condoms ended.

"a-ah... R-Reo!" ah, but how could he when you moaned his name so prettily. it made him want you even more, and he didn't think he could stop his hips if he wanted to. not with the way your walls sucked in him, warm body crushed against the mattress under his weight. oh, yeah, Reo couldn't stop if he wanted to. besides, the thrill just made it feel better - and it would be fine. right?

he nips and licks at your neck, where his head is buried. Reo could see the wet spots near your face from where you had been drooling. god, you were so hot when your brain shut down. the more he fucked into you the more he could feel you shake and whimper under him until he finally feels you snap, pussy milking him desperately.

shit, he was already sensitive, hyper aware of everything around him - the sweat pooling between your bodies, the warmth from your skin, the tiniest noises coming from you. your orgasm had him in overdrive, the way your pussy clenched around his cock making him shudder and grunt. Reo could feel his own orgasm coming, his thrusts becoming erratic as he moved faster and faster.

he is chasing something he knows he shouldn't, treading the line to something that could be very bad - but the thrill, oh it drove him mad. it would be fine, it would be fine. so long as Reo kept his damn self control and came out of your soft, drenching pussy, it would be fine. he could endure a few more thrusts before pulling out and it would work out fine - right?

his body moved faster and faster, sinking his hips into you with wave like motions, pleasure burning up his insides. it was too good, way too good, pulling him ever closer to the edge. just a couple thrusts and he'd pull out - that's what he promised himself, but when you breathlessly moaned out his name again, he couldn't help it. fuck, this was wrong, Reo knew, but it felt so damn good.

with a last powerful thrust, he buries his cock deep into your soft cunt, keeping his hips snug against your ass, going as far into you as he could. Reo's orgasm rocked his body and made him see stars as his throbbing dick flooded your pussy with his cum, pumping rope after rope of his thick white jizz into you until he felt some of it spilling out.

shit. shit, shit, shit. now, this wasn't good. cumming inside his best friend's girlfriend wasn't in Reo's plans, but the worst part was:, he couldn't say it felt bad. because it didn't. it felt too damn good. despite how wrong it was, despite the dangers, it felt way too good. that small, sadistic glee only burning more intensely.

you were still too fucked out and hazy to realize just what had happened. or at least the full extent of it. you two had never fucked without a condom and Reo knew you definitely wouldn't let him cum inside you. the danger was too great, what if he got you pregnant? now that wouldn't be good.

so, why did a part of him like the idea? why did a part of him want to go again, to try and roll the dice, to put a baby inside his best friend's girlfriend - when Reo knew damn well he'd be over at your house tomorrow to try and mend your relationship again. shit, this wasn't good. but you two would deal with it in the morning. and even if you got pregnant, he was sure he could find a way to make this work. right?

#reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #reo mikage #Gonna make a comment only Brazilians and literature nerds will get:#Dom casmurro if you believe that capitu actually cheated

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gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat · 4 months

Text

Group H, Round 4, Poll 2:

Propaganda under the cut

Li Lianhua/Li Xiangyi

All men do is lie. He's a "miracle physician" (citation needed) who lies himself out of every situation he's in. Didn't so much as fake his death, rather let everyone believe he was dead and then lie to their face when asked about who he really is. Convinces everyone he's just a weak doctor who doesn't know any martial arts but has a cunning mind, despite the fact that he literally used to be the head of the martial arts world before being poisoned. Somehow nearly everyone he meets is in love with him. He's everything to me

#THE LI LIANHUA PROPAGANDA LEFT OUT HIM DRUGGING PEOPLE MULTIPLE TIMES #TO AVOID (POTENTIALLY) GETTING ASKED ABOUT THE ISSUES HE IS CHOOSING TO LOOK AWAY FROM AND NOT SEE #ALSO THE TIME SOMEONE FIGURED OUT HIS TRUE IDENTITY BUT THEN THEY FELL UNCONSCIOUS #AND HE GOT AWAY WITH IT BY TELLING THEM THEY HAD BEEN HALLUCINATING WHEN THEY WOKE UP

#if he doesn’t lie thirty-seven times a day he will die #you could show him a dna test proving he is li xiangyi and he’d deny it to your face

#HE ONCE SAYS TO A CHARACTER THAT ‘HE NEVER LIES’ TO GET OUT OF A SITUATION AND THAT WAS A BIG FAT LIE #TELLS A CHARACTER AN INTRICATE STORY ABOUT FINDING HIS OWN CORPSE ON THE BEACH COMPLETE WITH PHYSICAL EVIDENCE AND ALL JUST SO THE CHARACTER #REACHES THE CONCLUSION THAT HES DEAD #HE GATEKEEPS THE VIEWER FROM KNOWING HIS FULL STORY ON RELIABLE TERMS AND YOU HAVE TO PIECE IT TOGETHER PAINSTAKINGLY

#continuously lies to the person he calls his jianghu bff to evade his questions regarding his identity #puts on a mask and defends the bff in fights#then shows up later like #🥺 wow that was so scary glad you were here to protect me! i have no martial arts skills #evades arrest by pretending like being shoved against a wall broke his ribs #'🥺 i'm just a little guy and you're so strong you'd better check out my ribs' #and then throws knockout powder at him

Ianthe Tridentarius

She is trying so hard to be the main character by lying and manipulating her sister, her cavalier, her mentor, her ?love interests? (Spoiler???) And also god. Not sure how it's working out for her but she does love to lie and manipulate

Worstie Ianthe is the DEFINITION of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. She is one of a set of necromancer twins that are the heirs to their houses rule. Except wait, only she is a necromancer and she has spent their entire lives doing necromancy for the both of them. She is constantly mean to their cavalier, Naberius, who she occasionally nibbles on like a chew toy, before eventually killing and eating him to ascend to sainthood. She goes to gods spaceship with another woman who ascended to sainthood who she has a crush on, this other woman is like…. Both incredibly mentally unwell and also haunted by at least 211 ghosts. Ianthes method of flirting with her? Gaslighting her about the corpse that keeps moving around and hiding under her bed. For no real reason tbh. She is clearly plotting to overthrow god, and at the moment that consists of her manipulating him while he’s too sad about his long term partners betraying him and subsequently exploding to really care. She dresses in terrible outfits and makes soup by burning onions to the bottom of a pot, putting meat in and some vegetables and then it doesn’t taste like anything so she puts in a few teaspoons of salt so it tastes like a few teaspoons of salt. She had her crush amputate her arm and regrow her a new one out of bone and it’s one of the horniest things I’ve read in my life.

"Gaslight = told her lobotomized (she helped), schizophrenic girlobsession that there was no corpse under their bed, even tho there totally was. Gatekeep = girl did NOT share the secret to god-like ascension. She kept that shit to herself until it was time to eat her boytoy, and by then everyone knew already. Girlboss = she has a non-necromancer twin sister, and literally Everyone thinks they r both necromancers because Ianthe is so good at it. She reverse engineered ascending to the aforementioned ascension without even completing any of the supplementary tasks. She held her own in a fight against a 10k year old lyctor. She becomes the figurehead of her entire empire. "

She uses a man as a chewtoy in the first book, literally gaslights the protagonist of the second book about a corpse, and elder-abuses God when he gets depressed in the third book. Nobody is doing it like her.

Dives headfirst with no regrets while basically laughing and covered in blood into murdering her cavalier once she realizes what the gothic locked room mystery/competition leads to while everyone else is questioning it, helps perform lobotomy on harrow so she doesn't remember the person she loves, manipulates everyone to get to the top

idk just everything about her

her relationship with her sister is incredibly Bad, she fosters codependency and views Corona(the sister) as an extension of herself. This does not stop her from keeping up the con that Corona actually has magic (She doesn't, it was always just Ianthe) for 22ish years and every single person who interacts with them falls for it. She killed a man against his will (most dying for this purpose specifically go willingly) and she consumed him and she will be burning his soul for eternity. She's completely repulsive and still somehow incredibly hot.

she takes advantage of the fact that the main character is prone to hallucinations. at one point she gaslights the mc into believing that the corpse under her bed isn't real just because she can. she reverse engineered a set of very complex trials on her own without anyone realizing she had the skills to complete them normally. she's also babysat god through his drunk and pathetic era.

#round 4 #group h #Li Lianhua #Li Xiangyi #Mysterious Lotus Casebook #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #ianthe tridentarius #cw ianthe tridentarius #ianthe the first

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wrotelovelytears · 1 year

Text

WE OUTSSIIDDDEE

*in my joker voice* we live in a society..

🌹I strongly believe the 12th house is linked to older age. Like I've seen so many older adults act like their 12th house sign (and/or Planets) by the time they hit 60. It's like they become more "religious AND spiritual", suffer from more memory based problems while being able to easily recall experiences had when younger, talk more about ancestry and life after, some even show some cognitive decline or increase.

🥴I'm surrounded by older adults and yeah, it's a pattern for sure and their twelfth house sign really starts showing.

🌹I'm pretty sure you live out most of your life in the 8th house regardless if it holds anything or not. Those themes never go away and after puberty starts you kinda live in it until your 60s. You see a lot of rapid changes just in teenhood and it doesn't really stop until you've reached an older age (aka just stop caring).

🌹Yes that means I believe you live in your fourth house until puberty. I know it's traditionally seen as a before birth/death house but listen, children most definitely do what makes them feel comfortable, express themselves more than adults and cling to caregivers like they are life itself. The sign (and planets) are at the forefront until.. well society happens

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

🫧Before the other signs start screaming at me bout the house that traditionally rule them let me keep going..

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

🌹The third house is related to how you communicate up until puberty (or until you pas that 4th house stage) of your life. You'll find yourself using the methods of the sign (and planets) that hold that house during that time. Generally puberty starts (for all sexes) around 10-14. That's why you will see 13 year olds stick more to the habits they've had until one day their seventh house comes in to play and you'll see a change.

🌹The seventh house communication skills are linked to that eighth house stage of life. You become more social/ aligned with societal socializing during puberty and see it continue up until the 60s. There's an increase need to connect with others and find those like you. We see more people working, marrying, dating then.

🌹Lastly the 11th is linked to the 12th house stage of life. The sign (and planets) that is in your 11th can become the way you communicate with the world. You move on from just close connections to more general ones. You'll have friends but you may not be as close anymore due to life. You'll see many changes that were once dreams of your occur in real time and not know how to verbalize how it makes you feel. There could be a haziness around your overall existence by this point, you'll be here but also super aware of everything making it hard for the present to make sense.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

🫧For the fire houses that's obviously how you act out during the stages.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

🌹The First house is linked to the thirds communication and fourths being. That's why I think it's easier to guess a young childs rising because whatever is in their first is how they'll generally act. Until society pressures them enough to be more "socially conscious" and that's when the fifth house hits.

🌹The fifth house is connected to the sevenths communication and eighths being. You start to be really aware of how your actions and behaviors look to others. Whatever sign is in your fifth is what determines how you go about trying to portray yourself. Are you the homebody who while loving relationships hates how they always end. Or are you the angsty teen who never really grew up but changed just enough that people can't guess it at first.

🌹The ninth house... Yeah...do I have to repeat it? Anywho it's no wonder many older adults start to broaden their lives out, I mean travelling and going with the flow is the whole motto of making it past your younger days. This is the time when you become aware of limitations, and I don't mean just actions I mean life itself. You've done so much and now it's time to make sure what you've done isn't in vain.

- - ��┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

🫧The Earth house are not what you do now, but what you end up leaving behind after each stage. It's what others will most likely remember that era of your life as.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

🌹The second house is the child you trying to just vibe. You could have memories of this stage but they are most likely linked to connections made to things in it/sign. The sign itself represents that new human learning to properly human while continuously having to push against placed norms. Caregivers will remember this stage the most while the individual will treat it as the past.

🌹The sixth house is highly related to most of your life. In fact it's more likely that friends and family (even long term co-workers) will remember you by your sixth house (and planets). That's because you spend more time here than anything and when you leave this stage it's due to wanting to broaden your life out of your known self.

🌹The tenth house is of course the legacy left by you. It's what people remember after death, yes we all know that but why it's after and not during life isn't expanded on. You became more connected to the collective because you've lived through so much. Yes your communication comes off more distant and it's because you've realized time is linear, and the things you do matter to more than just you. At the 12th house stage you've realized your words matter, your thoughts matter, and that essentially the world is much bigger than you and those you know. Loose connections, acquaintances and society will remember you by this sign (planets).

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Any who that's just been me blabbering.

(If you learned something new or would just like to support me you can leave a wittle tip via the tip button or one of the links in my masterlist. Kofi: nymphdreams🧸)

#astro tumblr #astroblr #astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astro observations #astrology tumblr #nymph writes astrology #house sign #general astrology #life astrology

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heliads · 1 year

Note

Hellooooo!!! I was wondering if I could request a modern au newt x reader? this is going to be a specific request, but where gladers are playing monopoly and it turns into an all-nighter because Minho refuses to let anyone stop and during it, reader, being sleep- deprived, confesses her feelings for newt. in the morning reader doesn't really remember, but newt does and he confronts her?

absolutely delightful idea

masterlist

You should have known from the very beginning that this was going to end badly. Look, the idea is better in theory. It always is. After all, what could possibly go wrong during game night?

The answer, as it turns out, is everything. It was Minho’s turn to decide what game would seal the friend group’s fate for the evening, which is never a good sign. Last time it was his choice, he forced everyone to undergo a dreadfully long session of Twister. You don’t think Newt’s leg has been the same since.

Ah, well. Your prophecy is sealed. Minho has refused to so much as say the name of what game you’ll be playing tonight, opting instead to issue out wicked cackles of glee whenever one of you asks. All he’s let slip is that the lot of you should put aside a significant amount of time for what is to come. That sounds like it’s going to involve a fair amount of pain and suffering, and at this point, being sentenced to years in a medieval torture device seems like a far more efficient method of ending your days.

You suppose you could always just skip game night and get back your treasured hours, but everyone knows that’s not an option. To show even the slightest sign of flinching under fire means that you’ll be brutally roasted in group chat and hallway alike for years, possibly even decades.

No, you must go through with this. This doesn’t mean Minho won’t escape without at least an earful or two of complaining, though. He has his role (torturer number one) and you have yours (critic most vocal). Besides, if you’re being honest it’s kind of fun to suffer with your friends. Any decent friendship has to be borne on at least some sort of shared trauma. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Thus the afternoon ends with you rolling up to Minho’s place of residence. The chooser of the game must be the host, tradition dictates. Otherwise the messes were astronomical. Your little gatherings have cultivated their own sort of lore over the months, strengthening with time until breaking the rules is something akin to a mortal sin worthy of the strictest punishments.

So it goes. As it turns out, that’s just the sort of fun that you happen to like the best. No matter how difficult life gets, how much work you have or how much it feels like you’ll never be able to get through what you must, you can always count on your friends to lift your spirits. You would follow them to the end of the world. Forget that old saying about jumping off a bridge if your friend took the plunge first. For them, you’d dive off the tallest tower, take the most treacherous risk. You know that they would save you every time.

That’s why you laugh about what is to become of you, but in the wholehearted sort of way that warms your spirits even as you feign complaints. In the end, you couldn’t be happier to be here. These are your friends, your newfound family. You couldn’t put them to the side if you tried.

Truth be told, there’s one amongst your numbers that you’re excited to see more than the most. Your friends have always been your favorite people on this earth, but that difference goes the extra mile when it comes to the blond boy currently walking up Minho’s driveway with a smile like the sun.

You’re not sure when you first fell for Newt, but oh, you couldn’t shake that sort of heartsick hopelessness if you tried. No, Newt is what matters most to your skipped heartbeats and jumping pulse, end of story. He has this way of making you feel extraordinary, even on the days when you don’t want to think about a single thing connecting you to anyone else. You could come up with a thousand reasons to hate yourself only for Newt to brainstorm a million more to love yourself.

No, there has never been anyone for you like him. It’s a shame, then, that he doesn’t seem to feel the same way. Newt knows the perfect thing to say to keep you from falling apart, the perfect smile to wear. He is perfection incarnate, except for one characteristic which threatens to fracture apart his entire image in your eyes. Were it not for the fact that Newt will never see you as someone along the lines as a sister or a particularly close friend, he could be flawless.

Every one of you is mortal, though, and in some way it’s almost refreshing to know that even Newt has his lapses in character. This is only a problem to you, obviously, but even this flaw in his visage hurts like staring at the sun. You could spend your entire life revolving around him, reveling in the blindness of scorching your eyes out over his brilliance, and you don’t even think he would notice once.

It is a terrible sort of ache, to be sure, but it is one that you have known for quite some time. That’s why you’re able to put aside your cracked and fractured heart and greet him with a charming grin when he walks through the door. Pleasantries are what Newt expects from you, and you will give them to him every time. You can keep up this act if it kills you. Especially if it kills you. Dying for him might be the best sort of nothingness, a gradual slip off into the abyss.

You’ll mess up at one point, of that you’re certain, but until then you can keep pretending that nothing is the matter. Newt will go on being exactly who he is– kind, more than you deserve, the best sort of boy that too few people will ever get to know– and you will push off the inevitable discovery for as long as you can. After all, if Newt were to know how you truly feel, he’d surely be disappointed.

That’s why you have to keep this to yourself. You simply have no other choice. It’s that or leave him behind, and that is one thing that you surely cannot do.

Newt is very grateful for tonight. Game nights are always an experience, and he has an inkling that tonight won’t be an exception. Minho has been plotting this for at least a week now, which is never a good sign. Newt has already had murmured discussions with Alby over what Minho could be planning, and although they have their ideas, they won’t know for sure until Minho whips out his chosen game board and seals their fate.

Until then, he gets to talk to his friends, eat snacks, and try to have a good time. School stress has been settling around his shoulders in a thick blanket as of late, choking up his movements and forcing him into a frustratingly slow existence. He needs to study, but he can’t get his brain to focus for longer than five minutes at a time. He tries to get better grades, but the content seems impossible to master.

That’s why he needs a night like this, a chance to think about something other than godforsaken schoolwork for a change. Newt can always count on his friends to clear his head, it’s what he’s done since what feels like the beginning of time and what he’ll do until the day he dies.

Newt was especially glad to open the door to Minho’s house and see Y/N smiling at him from across the room. Obviously, he’s happy when all of his friends are around, but for some reason he seems to enjoy Y/N’s company more than anyone else. Newt can’t quite put his finger on the reason, but he’s certain that it will come to him eventually. Everything always makes sense around her, so surely this feeling will have a name soon enough.

Until then, he’ll suffer with this sensation like having a word on the tip of his tongue only to forget it the second he opens his mouth. It’s infuriating, but then again, so are most things in this life. Over time, Newt has learned that the way to deal with things is to just keep moving forward, and so he does, walking into the house and greeting Y/N as soon as he can. He can banish any negative thought so long as he can just see her.

Minho ends their anticipation soon enough, announcing with a dreadful flourish of his hands that they’re going to be playing Monopoly until the very end of the game. There will be no untimely conclusions for them, no sir. The group is going to play until one person is capitalist extraordinaire, and after that long-awaited moment they can all free themselves from board game exile.

They’re going to have quite a long time to ponder their fate as they play, though. Minho is clearly delighted with the thought of chaining his friends to the accursed game, likely because the dark-haired boy is ungodly good at it for some reason while the rest of them are absolutely terrible. It feels like Minho’s already racked up a multitude of properties after just a few turns. Newt would think he’s cheating were it not for the fact that Gally keeps an eagle eye on the bank, just in case.

Thomas is convinced that he should not have been sent to jail, Gally threatens that he should be there for longer, Alby groans and tells Thomas that one turn will be a sufficient punishment for his board game crimes. In between getting absolutely robbed over egregious rents on the various brightly colored squares, Newt passes his time in another, somehow better way. The loud, raucous complaints of various friends as the game progresses serves as a brilliant cover-up for the conversation Newt wants to be having instead.

Y/N chose to sit by Newt, something he’s very happy about, again for a reason he can’t entirely describe. They use the threats of mortal violence ricocheting between friends to muffle their quiet exchanges. Newt is always filled with this ridiculous need to sound as cool and funny as possible around her, so he’s grateful Minho can’t overhear Newt’s attempt at suave conversation. He has a feeling that the other boy would find it incredibly humorous, and likely point this out at great volume.

As the night wears on, Newt’s attempted control over his own words grows less and less strict. They have been at Monopoly for hours and they’re still no closer to winning the game than when they started. Minho insisted that even losers must remain around the board game table, likely to make sure no one would try to sacrifice themselves in the hopes of escape, so they’re all still packed just as tightly around the game board.

However, the late hour and the mind numbing brain drain of trying to remember all the rules has Newt’s attention span shrinking by the second. Y/N looks like she’s about ten seconds from falling asleep, and Newt ends up playing most of her turns for her. She’s leaned up against his shoulder now, eyelids continually flickering shut as she fights the urge to pass into unconsciousness.

In the beginning, Y/N would tell Newt what she wanted to do, but he’s long since been able to guess at what she wants that she doesn’t even have to say a word. They’re of one mind, the two of them. It is impossible to tell where she ends and he begins, if there was ever such a difference in the first place.

As if reading his mind, Y/N yawns and whispers something to Newt, her words scarcely audible over Frypan declaring his hatred of another railroad square. “I’m glad you’re here, you know.”

Newt chuckles. “Why, so you have someone to suffer with you?”

“No,” Y/N says amidst a quiet laugh, “I just like spending time with you. Guess it’s ‘cause of the whole crush thing, but still. You’re fun.”

After this pronouncement has been given, Y/N tucks her head back against Newt’s shoulder, looking to all the world as if she’s just commented on the weather or something normal. By contrast, Newt feels as if he’s never been more awake in his life. He knows what Y/N said, even if she might not be aware of it herself. She said that she liked being with him because of the ‘crush thing,’ but that sounds like– that sounds like–

She likes him. She might even love him. Newt’s brain might fall to pieces over the force of such a revelation. Isn’t that how he feels, though? Like he doesn’t want to spend time with anyone other than her? The fact that he hadn’t even realized it until now is insane to him. It makes perfect sense the longer he thinks about it. Of course he loves her. How could he not? Isn’t this what love is, wanting to be with someone for the rest of your life?

The rest of the game night passes in a haze. Newt isn’t entirely sure who won, although he’s certain that whoever it was will take great pains to remind them until the next game night. Newt lost whatever advantage he had in the game the second Y/N accidentally confessed her feelings. He just couldn’t think about something as elementary as Monopoly when someone like Y/N told him that she liked him. How could anyone focus on a board game during such conditions?

Newt feels like he’s walking on eggshells when he approaches Y/N at school the next Monday. She didn’t text him over the weekend to indicate that anything unusual had happened. In all honesty, Newt’s not even sure that she was awake enough to know what she said. Newt knows, though, and that makes all the difference.

Newt stops by Y/N’s locker, wondering how he’s going to bring this up. Y/N saves him the trouble, flashing him a casual grin as she opens her combination lock.

“Hey, Newt. Sleep well this weekend? I was exhausted after Friday. I assumed I’d have to pull an all-nighter at some point, but I didn’t think it would be over Monopoly.”

Newt forces a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, about Friday. There’s something I wanted to talk about.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? I think I fell asleep once we passed into the three a.m. range, sorry about that.”

Newt shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t about that. It was, well, when you were falling asleep, you told me something.”

Judging by the way Y/N’s face falls, she might have been aware of it after all. “I thought that was just a dream,” she whispers, “Guess not.”

“Yeah,” Newt says.

Y/N winces. “Look, I’m really sorry about that. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all. Can we just pretend I was asleep and didn’t know what I was saying? Please?”

“I don’t want to pretend, though,” Newt whispers, “I want it to be real.”

Y/N seems to freeze in place. “What?”

That’s as good as any to continue, so Newt does just that. “I like you too,” he says, “really, I do. More than I thought I could.”

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then breaks into a slow smile. “If this is what comes of Minho’s game nights, I’m not entirely sure I mind them anymore.”

Newt laughs. “Is that your way of saying that you’d like to go out with me sometime?”

“It most certainly is,” Y/N assures him.

Maybe Newt is still reeling from the high of staying up so late, because he swears he can feel his heart do a loop in his chest. Either way, he couldn’t be happier. He’s got his girl, and that’s all that matters right now.

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

Lethal Woman: Chapter 5 (GN! Reader x Astarion)

Note: I know a lot of people don't necessarily read this piece of my work, but for the people who do, I'm sorry for the wait! This one is kinda angsty and still digs into the character's background. I want to create a Durge x Astarion type of relationship rather than a Tav x Astarion type of relationship so the character has some trauma.

Also this character is my way of working through my own traumatic experiences so I guess sorry????

CW: Violence, Gore, mention of Child/Teen SA (very very brief), death, torture, PTSD, murder, dissociation, and panic attacks.

Background- You are a Nightmask Death Bringer who was kidnapped by a Nautiloid Ship. Along with 6 strangers, you search Faerun for a cure for the Tadpoles in your heads- before it’s too late.

Chapter Six

You have never enjoyed verbal confrontation- not because you weren’t good at it, but because it feels like a waste of time when it’s so much easier to throw knives at the problem. You know that it comes from a place of survival- arguing with Dahlia always ended in you being tortured for however many days or nights she felt like you deserved. You learned to stop arguing after the first few months of your training and just do what Dahlia told you to do.

The only verbal confrontations you have engaged in recently was during your assignments, but they were always brief and forgotten quickly.

However, your argument with Astarion three days ago has consumed your every waking thought.

You honestly weren’t sure what chain of events had led to the explosive discussion involving confronting the three Goblin Leaders when the day had started so typically.

You and your companions (minus Astarion) all agreed that going to the grove to fight Kagha is a priority and that they couldn’t allow the Shadow Druids to take over the grove. Astarion, however, hadn’t seen it that way. He kept insisting that it was a waste of time, resources, and energy. You didn’t mind the bitching at all- you weren’t necessarily thrilled about “saving the day” either and if it were just adults you would walk away from the whole ordeal- except there are children who need to be protected.

It’s your one and only rule- you do not abandon children in need. You don’t want anyone to ever fall into the wrong hands like you had. Eventually, Astarion stopped being huffy.

The fight had erupted quickly and Kagha had managed to slip into the shadows unnoticed in the midst of the chaos. You had barely seen her in time when you realized she was going to run Astarion through with a stake.

You had never sprinted so fast in your entire life as you put yourself between him and Kagha, grabbing the stake that was mere inches from your chest. You would have felt entirely victorious if she hadn’t then stabbed you all the way through with the shortsword she had attached to her belt- twisting it deeply into your abdomen until you release the stake. You feel her pull the sword out before stabbing you through your chest with the sharpened wood.

You had always thought stabbing a vampire with a stake as a tried and trued method of killing them was stupid- anyone would die if they were stabbed hard enough with a WOODEN FUCKING STAKE.

Maybe Dahlia was right- maybe being attached to people is a bad idea because you hadn’t even taken a good look at Kagha before you ran (which is reckless and not how you were trained to fight).

You had heard Shadowheart scream your name and saw two flaming hands go past your face as they consumed Kagha. The black dots in your vision had been followed with the unpleasant numbness that you knew all too well.

The fear sank into your bones like an anchor. Your breathing had begun to speed up and you felt the panic rip through you as you were being dragged away- unpleasant images flash in your mind and you started to thrash against the person holding you. You began screaming bloody murder and you clawed at the air like a trapped animal. You could barely hear the person’s voice over your looping thoughts and racing heart.

No, no, no, no, no. Please. I’ll listen. I’ll do anything, just don’t kill me. Don’t leave me here. I’ll do better. I’ll be better!

You hadn’t known until the end of the battle that Astarion had been the one carrying you away and had to hold you down as Shadowheart and Nettie came rushing to your aid after the final enemy went down.

You could hear two voices trying to snap you out of whatever fear driven fog you were in, but you were still choking on your own air, floating away in space. Disconnected. Disassociated. You felt the tadpole wiggle behind your eyes, but you were too far gone in your head to even register it.

Dahlia had killed and resurrected you a few times as a punishment. Sometimes she would leave you out in the sun for a few days before resurrecting you- the process of your skin, organs, muscles, and tendons repairing themselves after being eaten by critters and bugs is a different kind of pain- one you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. What was even worse was that Dahlia eventually found out how to bring you back just enough that you were aware of the vermin desecrating your body, but not enough for you to do anything about it- forced to feel yourself becoming nourishment for the creatures in the forest as you struggled to survive mentally.

Dahlia threatened to turn you into her spawn if you didn't remain half way in your body until she came back to get you. You knew her threat was serious because she had taken you coffin shopping after the first time she killed and resurrected you. You had gone for a wood one so that the endeavor could be over with, but Dahlia instead made you lay down in every coffin on display in the showroom- ultimately picking a gaudy, lockable, and iron coffin for you. You were 13-years-old.

Dahlia enjoyed driving you to the brink of insanity- only to come back and be your savior or your villain. Somehow she had convinced you that it’s entirely up to you what version of her you received, but it never mattered how well you listened sometimes. She told you you wouldn’t know when she would decide you were past the point of no return and no longer had any use for you as a Deathbringer. Thank the Gods she wanted to make you a Deathbringer more than she wanted you to be her spawn.

You weren’t sure when Nettie had forced an herb into your mouth that calms you down; you had eventually come back to yourself just enough to stop fighting her and Shadowheart’s efforts to heal you.

Karlach was sitting next to your head and was talking about nothing and everything. Astarion had sat himself on the staircase nearby and you could feel his eyes boring into you as you flinched away and hissed from the healers’ touch. You tried to make yourself smaller, your anxiety getting worse by the minute. It wouldn’t bother you usually, but you weren’t of sound mind in that particular moment.

As you became more alert, you made eye contact with Astarion and you were shocked to see him staring at you with anger and grief in his eyes.

You hadn’t known (and still didn’t know) that Astarion had been in your head using the tadpole to try to snap you out of whatever hell you were in and he had seen all of it- every last thing Dahlia did to you. The time she hired a man to violently take your virginity after your first moon blood at 14, the resurrections, the priests of Loviatar that would come for days on end to beat you until you wanted to die, and Tessa. Poor, sweet, beautiful Tessa with her mangled corpse and heart being eaten.

The walk to camp had thankfully been an easy one. Gale had thankfully had dinner ready by the time your group came back and you sat around the campfire to have dinner with the others. Astarion sat next to you and you couldn’t help but notice how rigid he was. He would usually have his leg touching yours and he would lean in to whisper some snide remark in your ear about whoever was talking- forcing you to suppress laughter as to not bring attention to the two of you.

Except for tonight apparently- he hadn’t even spoken to you the entire time and made sure there was a considerable amount of distance between you and him. Then the argument happened.

Wyll and Gale had brought up the plan to take out the Goblin leaders and find Halsin. They had gathered information about the leaders at the grove from Zevlor and had a plan in mind.

Wyll suggested that everyone split up so that more ground could be covered faster and it would prevent anyone from burning out since they wouldn't be participating in three (possibly four) separate battles.

“So I was thinking that Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion would take on Minthara. Myself, Gale, and Lae’zel will take on Dror Ragzlin,” Wyll paused before looking at you, “and if you are up to it in the next three days- I think it would be best if you kill the Priestess and then jailbreak Halsin alone.”

“That way, we can all remain somewhat under the radar while we are gathering information regarding the Absolute and their Cultists,” Gale chimed in, “and hopefully we will get substantial information before you charge into battle with Halsin.”

You pondered their vision and it made sense to you. Priestess Gut would be an easy kill and you can’t imagine that the Goblins guarding Halsin will be much of a challenge either. Except you were unsure of how much better you would feel within 3 days.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” you said slowly, “does anyone ob-”

You didn’t even get a chance to finish before Astarion began ripping into Wyll and Gale’s plan- specifically the part about you being alone. He had stood up and gotten into Wyll’s face as he rose to meet the other man's eyes

“What kind of moronic plot is that,” Astarion hissed, “they’ve been injured you ignorant fucks.”

“Astarion,” you said with an edge to your tone.

He whipped around with that same anger and grief he had looked at you with earlier.

“You honestly believe you’ll be ready in three days to take on an Absolute Priestess and a group of Goblins by yourself?”

“Yes, in fact, I do,” you stood up, your voice firm, “I’ve been hurt worse and been able to keep fighting after one day. What happened today-”

He cut you off with a growl, “I knew you were naive, Darling, but I didn’t realize how dense you are.”

You frowned and said in a whisper, “I don’t know what the word means.”

“Simple-minded, brainless, dull-witted,” he retorted, “must I continue or are you educated enough to understand what I’m trying to say.”

You were not made to be loved- only to kill, die, and serve.

You felt your brain disconnect from your body as you swallowed down the emotions. You watched as something in his eyes changed, but you had begun walking away towards your tent. You heard Karlach scold him, but you were already shaking it off- like you said, you’ve experienced worse before and have been able to keep going the next day.

It didn't change the fact that his words had broken you- he knew that not being able to read or write was a sore spot for you. It was also something you didn’t want to publicize to your other companions. You had been staying up together at night- him reading to you and you listening- making the occasional comment or asking a question. Sometimes you just listen to him tell you about Cazador and Baldur’s Gate. If you fall asleep, he doesn’t move you- instead he sits next to you until you wake up and you walk back to camp together.

You had thought those moments were sacred and important to him like they were to you. You were ashamed to discover it had been an act the whole time and you had been naive enough to fall for it.

Over the next three days, you avoided him like the plague and he avoided you too. Your nightmares have come back in full force now that your nightly ritual has ceased. Your injury has healed almost entirely despite the occasional soreness, but you are so tired you are barely present as you and your companions walk towards the Goblin Camp.

Karlach is your angel from the Hells today as she keeps your spirits high with her bright demeanor.

“Soldier, I am so excited for you to see my infernal engine in action,” she puffs out her chest with pride, “Dammon’s explanation doesn’t even begin to do it justice- even if he says a lot of pretty words with that nice mouth of his.”

“Thank you for that Karlach,” you say with a snort, “been imagining what other talents his mouth has?”

You begin to cackle as Karlach turns even more red before giving you a shove.

“Ughhh have mercy on me! He’s just so pretty and his voice!,” she whines with a dramatic, angsty sigh, “A girl can dream.”

“Or a girl can put on her big girl panties and ask to fuck him already.”

“Oh, SHUT UP you vulgar-!” she puts you in a headlock and scratches the top of your head with her knuckles- effectively ruining your hair, but putting the biggest smile on your face.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion watches you laugh and dick around with Karlach. He feels the corners of his lips tease into a small smile before he begins to frown again. He notices the dark circles under your eyes and the slight drag in your step, but he doesn’t even know where to begin if he was to approach you.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s missed your presence and your nightly rendezvous together. Truth be told, a part of him is fearful that he’ll never be able to have those moments with you again.

His anger had been misdirected at you that night at the fire. He had been so angry with himself (and those dipshits, Wyll and Gale) that he had taken it out on you. Instead of asking you to take care of yourself or refusing to let you go alone, he decided to publicly shame you.

The first night you didn’t show up at your agreed-upon spot had twisted his heart and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the feeling came back the second and the third night too.

He hasn’t cared for someone like this in the last two centuries and he hates it. The last three days had been hell- he followed you every time you left camp to go hunting, check traps, etc. He would give you your privacy of course if you were going to bathe in the river, but even then he would anxiously look around camp until you came back. He tells himself it’s because he knows you are his best chance at being free of Cazador- that he is merely worried for your safety and cares because without you, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Then there is the part of him that has begun to crave your company just as a companion and he enjoys the friendship between you. This part of him feels like just being your friend will never be enough.

He refuses to admit his plan may be falling apart, despite it barely beginning. Thankfully, his feelings of self-loathing are keeping him preoccupied.

He despises himself for being so blind to the fact that you and your nightmares were not from the tadpole, but from the abuse inflicted upon you by that wretched woman- Dahlia. Even thinking her name made him see red and filled him with bitter rage.

He remembers the night he told you about Cazador burying him alive for a year. He remembers how you had said you understood how he felt and how he had gotten upset with you. You didn’t correct him- didn’t tell him that you have been in a similar situation. He doesn’t know which is worse- being buried in shadows, confined for a year or being left out in the sun to slowly rot and be eaten away.

He wishes you had corrected him, but maybe you felt like he couldn’t protect you due to his own history of abuse. Maybe he had made you feel like your pain didn’t matter to him.

Then, when you began thrashing around in his arms, he had never felt more powerless as he watched you disappear inside your own head like he has done many times. He ground his teeth every time you flinched away from Nettie and Shadowheart. His mind insisted on reminding him of how you looked at him with so much fear and rage while he held you down; how it felt watching your memories- your pain- being ripped open all because you decided to protect him. Again.

Then his attempt to protect you failed because he ultimately pushed you away, but maybe that is for your own good too. However, you pushing him away has not changed his plan for today’s fight.

He will not be going with Shadowheart and Karlach. He had initially planned on approaching them about this, but they came to him first- asking him to hang back with you, undetected, then meeting up with them later. Karlach and Shadowheart told him that they were just as upset with Gale and Wyll’s plan and were going to object before he stepped in.

He’s the only one who has a ring of invisibility and the stealth to keep you from suspecting you are being ‘babysat’ as he had overheard you call it when Karlach had suggested she come with you.

The goblins outside of the camp had been easy to bypass- Astarion had even convinced the goblin to kiss his shoe (which earned a hushed laugh from you that made him hopeful). Astarion watched as you caught and helped the Owlbear Cub escape, but on the opposite side of that coin, you managed to get Volo in more trouble.

You convince Wyll to hold off on the plan until you are able to free Volo- seeing as leaving a famous bard to die at a Goblin Camp would not bid well for the Night Masks and that would not be doing you any favors. Astarion was shocked when Wyll expressed understanding.

Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach go with you as Gale, Wyll, and Lae’zel search for Dror Ragzlin.

The rescue mission quickly turns into another rescue mission when your small group stumbles across a man being tortured by Goblins. Astarion is quick to convince the goblins that they were being summoned elsewhere and, at your behest, he frees the battered man after he gives you more information about the Nightsong.

The Goblins had mentioned a man in the next room over so Astarion begins to walk in that direction and you follow him closely- your hand hovering over the hilt of your dagger as you scan the area cautiously.

Astarion rounds the corner and sees a man that looks like he needs more iron in his diet. The all black garb was not helping and honestly? Neither is the haircut.

The man turns and scans the group before his eyes settle on you. Astarion feels his stomach turn as the man gives you a wickedly happy grin. Astarion moves closer to you and eyes the man cautiously, leering at him in the process.

“I remember you,” the man says, “you’re Dahlia’s little brat, are you not? I remember the first time we met- your screams were positively delicious.”

Astarion hears your breath hitch. You are frozen in place, fingers trembling slightly as you fix your posture and take a deep breath. Astarion watches mournfully as you lose yourself in your head.

“Hello Abdirak.”

Abdirak’s smile grows even wider at your empty greeting.

“What a blessing it must be- for us to meet again, Rowan. Won’t you join me in worshiping My Lady?”

Shadowheart pipes up, “I didn’t know you were into such things Rowan. I would love to see a demonstration.”

“Absolutely not,” Astarion hisses.

“I’ll do it.”

He whips around to look at you as you walk up to the wall. He watches as you take each hit, but you are goading the man the entire time. The throws get more and more painful to watch and he hears Karlach take sharp breaths every time an ax sticks in your back. You walk back over and let Shadowheart heal you as she praises you for your vigor. Astarion uses every last bit of restraint he has to not punch Shadowheart in the jaw.

You look distant as you drink a healing potion from your pack before turning back to Abdirak as he spouts on about his wonderful “memories” of worshiping with you. Astarion's hands go to his dagger as he gears up to kill the man.

A flash of movement from your direction prevents him from moving forward.

Astarion wasn’t prepared for you to cut the man’s throat so violently in one quick motion. Blood pours from Abdirak’s neck and out of his mouth as he chokes. His eyes are wide with fear as you push him on his back- your eyes bright, crimson red and consumed with indifference. Abdirak chokes and looks at you with pleading eyes, but you take a step back as the rats begin to claw and eat at him. The whole endeavor is disgusting and horrific- Astarion could not be more proud to know you. His strangled cries are cut short as he finally succumbs to his wounds.

Without saying anything, you turn on your heels and stalk to the next room, Astarion quickly in tow. You free Volo before Astarion can even enter the room- the Goblin that had taken Volo away dead on the floor.

You come out of the room and make eye contact with him. Your eyes are blank and your face is emotionless. You turn away from him and stalk off in the direction of the priestess. He gives you a decent head start before casting the spell and sneaking in behind you as Priestess Gut closes the door.

Let the bloodshed begin.

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