#Idk what it is about that side of my family but every woman from there will put you in your place in a second | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valeskafics · 3 months

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"Your Place" - Aemond Targaryen x Cousin!Reader

a/n: from an anon request for daemon/rhea's daughter being seduced to the greens' side by aemond! i hope you like it nonnie, this was a fun one to write and i'm quite proud of it 🩷

Summary: After several years apart, Aemond comes to Runestone to convince you to take your place at his side.

TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, mentions of toxic family relationships (reader resents daemon), mentions of murder (daemon killing rhea), idk reader's kinda a hater in this sorry, oral f receiving, fingering, p in v sex, breeding kink

Word Count: 3,000 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Runestone is a vital tactical ally. At least, that’s the story Aemond spins to his brother before he takes to the skies atop Vhagar, heading for the Vale. House Royce is a noble, proud house. One of the most powerful in the Vale, second only to House Arryn. It is not a complete lie that gaining their allegiance would be beneficial to the Greens.

Aemond just leaves out the true reason he wishes to visit Runestone.

Its lady.

You, Lady Targaryen, the only daughter of Lady Rhea Royce and Aemond’s uncle, Prince Daemon Targaryen. Since your father harbored no love for your mother, his indifference extended to you. The last time Aemond saw you was that day when he claimed Vhagar, when he lost his eye. It was at Lady Laena’s funeral.

You had walked up beside him, your face eerily calm as you remarked, “It’s quite a shame, my father’s luck in marriage. Perhaps the next one might survive. Don’t they say the third time’s the charm?”

Aemond had barely resisted the urge to laugh at your dark sense of humor. You were two years his senior, four and ten while he was a mere two and ten. You were graceful, beautiful. And he fell for you instantly. He knew that no matter what happened, no matter who your father was, one day he would marry you.

You did not go to Dragonstone with your father after he wed Rhaenyra. You, instead, went to Runestone, where your uncle had been serving as Lord Regent in your stead. You refused to live with your father and his third wife, stating that you had no interest in this depravity. You had no interest in a man who bedded another woman before his wife’s body was cold in the ground. You came to say goodbye to Aemond before leaving, finding him in his sickbed, a bandage wrapped around where his eye used to be. You pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, apologizing for all that happened. Stating that you wished you had been there to put a stop to all of this.

And you congratulated him on claiming Vhagar before leaving. You harbored no ill will toward him for “stealing” your sister’s dragon. Your attitude made Aemond wonder if you truly cared for your sisters at all. He watched you walk away from him, toward the ship that waited to whisk you away to your mother’s ancestral home. He stared out the window as you sailed away, yet again promising himself that once he was a man worthy of you, he would find you and make you his.

His wife, his princess, his love.

You were by far the most impressive woman he’d ever met in his life, and so he decided to make himself an impressive man in turn. He practiced swordplay three hours a day, learned the language of his ancestors, studied history and philosophy extensively. And, of course, mastered the art of riding on horseback. From what he has heard, you spend hours riding atop your mare, apparently because of how close it makes you feel to your mother. There’s something so beautifully tragic about that, he thinks. And it endears you to him all the more. He falls in love with you even more with every new thing he learns about you.

It is late in the afternoon when Runestone comes into sight, and Vhagar lets out a mighty roar as she begins to descend from the clouds, allowing her rider to climb off her back before taking to the skies once more, ready to return at Aemond’s behest. He walks toward your keep, his boots clicking on the stone path as he walks. He can feel his heart in his throat with every step he takes closer to you, praying to the Smith to give strength so that he may not waver in his confidence before you.

He sees you, sitting atop your mare, your hair whipping in the wind, a steed waiting for him as well. How very thoughtful of you. Aemond bows as he approaches you. You are even more beautiful than you were when he saw you last. The dress you wear, one of Myrish lace and Dornish silk, clings to your figure, your curves now that of a woman’s. Your hair has grown longer and there is a calm about you that was not there when you were at your father’s side.

You have become your own woman, graceful and beautiful like all said your mother was. Aemond falls deeper in love than ever before as he gazes up at you.

“Cousin.”

Your voice is just as he remembers, gentle yet firm, that of a woman who knows what she’s doing.

Aemond smiles, “I see that my cousin has matured greatly.”

You nod, watching him as he climbs atop the stallion beside you, “I have indeed. The last time we saw each other was at my stepmother’s funeral, I believe?”

“Yes,” he replies, the two of you beginning your ride toward the keep, “It would seem, as you said, your father’s luck in marriage improved with the third time.”

“Indeed,” you say, and he can see the beginnings of a smile curling on your lips as you question, “But I am sure you’re not here to discuss matters of my father’s ill-fated marriages. Why have you come to Runestone, cousin?”

Aemond presses his lips together, turning to face you completely before questioning, “I wish to ask where your allegiance lies in this coming war, cousin. Who will House Royce fight for?”

“Runestone remains neutral,” you tell him calmly, “As I told Jacaerys who arrived here not one fortnight before you on his way to Winterfell. We will not be dragged into a war that has nothing to do with us.”

“So you’d stand aside and allow Rhaenyra to usurp my brother’s birthright?”

“You forget that she’s my stepmother,” you comment dryly, the sarcasm in your voice making Aemond smile. You haven’t changed a bit. He admires the side profile of your face as you stare straight ahead, nearly at the castle now, “That my father fights at her side. You’d ask me to turn against my own father, cousin?”

Aemond’s gaze moves to your lips, so soft and so ripe for kissing, his mind running wild as he imagines stopping the horses here and now, hauling you off somewhere to have his way with you. To have you underneath him, crying out his name in ecstasy.

“You’ve outgrown your father. His decisions were never wise. All he brought upon the Realm was chaos.”

You scoff, “I do not argue with that. You know that I have no love for my father. It is an ill-kept secret that my mother died at his hand. But still, I will not have Runestone dragged into this foolishness.”

Aemond chuckles as the two of you hop off of your mounts, taking a step toward you, resting a finger beneath your chin as he tilts your face up toward him, his blue eye boring into yours, flickering back to your lips for a brief moment before he asks, “And what of me, cousin? Have I done something to anger you, Lady Targaryen? I only ask for a fair chance to convince the Lady of Runestone to stand on the proper side of this conflict. Perhaps even as a princess, my bride.”

“You forget that I am betrothed, cousin,” you inform him sharply, “Your honeyed words won’t sway me.”

Aemond is not yet deterred. He is still determined to win you over, the feeling of being near you again driving him to madness.

“I’m sure your betrothed would understand that a lady of your grace, your beauty is better suited as a match for the king’s own brother.”

It drives him mad, not knowing if his presence affects you when he rests his hands on your waist, squeezing gently as he presses his body against your own. He needs some indication that you’re enjoying this, that you like the fact that his cock is hard from the mere sight of you, that his thoughts are consumed only by you, that his heart only belongs to you.

“You have traveled far. Please, allow my servants to show you to our guest chambers.”

Aemond chuckles quietly as you turn to walk away, grabbing you by the hand before you can get too far. He pulls you back to him, your back against his front. His hands move along your side, feeling the curves of your body. Aemond leans in, his lips tickling the shell of your ear as he whispers.

“Guest chambers? Why not let me spend the night in your chambers, Lady Targaryen? We are family, after all.”

You roll your eyes, wrenching yourself from his grip, staring up at him, “I remembered Aegon being this presumptuous. Not you. You were always so shy and sweet.”

Aemond feels almost like a child again in front of your scrutinizing gaze, the way you stare him down making him want nothing more than to prove himself to you. He feels his cheeks flush slightly, this back-and-forth between you only making him want you all the more.

“I have changed, sweet cousin,” he says quietly, “But please know that it is not presumptuousness. I am sincere in my affection for you.”

Your lips curl into the slightest of smiles as you turn to leave, “Get settled in. We can discuss any potential alliance at supper.”

Aemond takes a deep breath, nodding, “As you wish, cousin.”

He turns to leave, only to immediately face you once more when you call out his name. Aemond pauses, his heart racing as he wonders if he should cross the hall and kiss you now. He meets your gaze hopefully.

“Yes?”

Then, it’s as though the heavens part and an angel stands before him when you give him that soft, sweet smile of yours and say, “I’m glad to see you.”

His eye widens with surprise, staring after you as you walk away, murmuring, “I’m glad to see you too, my lady.”

You look so beautiful, sitting across the table from him, sipping on your wine. There’s a quiet dignity about you, an effortless grace. He sees a painting of your mother hanging behind you and decides to break the silence.

“You look more like her. Your mother.”

He’s surprised when you laugh, meeting his gaze, “That might be the nicest thing you ever could have said to me.”

Aemond decides to take a chance and stands from his seat, crossing the room to kneel at your side, taking your hands in his own, “I know you are betrothed to the Tully boy. That your father has done this in hopes of keeping the Riverlands loyal to his wife. But do you truly think that he can care for you the way I would? Make you happy the way I would?”

“I don’t know the faintest thing about you, Aemond. You were a child when I saw you last-”

“A child who fell in love with you,” he declares, pulling you to your feet, his large hands caressing your face, his voice thick with desperation, “And now a man who desires nothing more than to marry you. To care for you. To love you and make you his princess. And perhaps one day, even his queen.”

You arch a brow at his words, and Aemond knows you have picked up on the implication behind his words. He has long coveted his brother’s position as the firstborn. He would not say it to anyone other than you. But he knows, for some reason, that you will not begrudge him for this. For this hatred that brews inside of him. He knows it because he’s seen it in you as well. He saw it when you watched your father doting upon your sisters at Driftmark that day, that resentment brewing.

“In truth, I believe you,” you tell him calmly, your fingers intertwining with his, “Runestone is not so important that your brother would have urged you to come. He would have sent you to the Eyrie. Not to me.”

Aemond lets out a quiet laugh, “Indeed. I came here to express my intention of wedding you. Of stealing you away from your betrothed and making you mine.”

You hum in acknowledgment, turning to face the painting of your mother, “I owe the Blacks nothing. All my father has ever given me is a lifetime’s worth of neglect and hatred. My sisters never cared for me, though their lady mother was kind enough to try and make them do so. And I know my current stepmother,” you pause before remarking sarcastically, “Or is it cousin? Does not care for me. She sees me as the obstacle that stood in the way of Daemon claiming her all those years ago. There is no place for me with them. Perhaps there is no place for me anywhere. The product of a loveless marriage between a man and a woman who utterly despised each other.”

“There is a place for you, my lady,” Aemond says firmly, “And it is by my side, and in my bed.”

You gaze up at him, the tension between the two of you growing with every passing moment. You lean in, as does he, closer and closer, your breath soft and sweet against his lips.

“And where is your place?”

“With you,” Aemond says quietly, “You and I, we were destined for each other.”

“Destined,” you repeat, resting your hands on his chest, “I choose my own destiny. I do not leave my fate in the hands of the Gods.”

“Then choose me.”

Aemond doesn’t know who leans in first. All he knows is that your lips are pressed to his, his hands tangled in your hair as he lifts you up onto the table, standing between your thighs. He has never known a feeling so intense as this, your own hands tugging at his hair as he pushes the skirt of your dress up, revealing your bare legs. Aemond drops to his knees, reveling in your look of surprise. He presses a hot-open mouthed kiss to your ankle, trailing his lips up along your leg, your thigh, before he finally reaches his intended destination. You gasp as he gives a hesitant lick at your cunt, waiting for your reaction. He stares up at you, and when you nod, he buries his face between your thighs, tongue eagerly lapping at your folds as he lifts your knees over his shoulders. Your hands grasp at the table, knuckles going white as you grit your teeth in an effort not to make too much noise.

Dissatisfied by your lack of response, Aemond increases his efforts, moving to suckle at your sensitive pearl while his fingers move to pump in and out of your cunt, the wet noises that come from you making you cry out with surprise in the throes of ecstasy. Aemond grins against your skin, feeling your body shiver as you near your peak, finally reaching it, the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, tart yet so very sweet, making him moan, his cock impossibly hard against his breeches.

Aemond stands to his full height and you quickly help him undo his breeches, your soft hand palming at his cock, making him throw his head back with pleasure at the feeling. It is so much better than he ever could’ve imagined, having you touch him and gaze up at him like that with those sweet eyes of yours. Before he can align himself with your center, you rest a hand to his chest. His breath quickens as you move to rid him of his eyepatch, your fingertips tracing the scar that runs along his face, the one he has been so ashamed of all his life.

But all you say is one word. One of the few you know in the tongue of your forefathers.

“Gevie.”

Beautiful.

Aemond smiles, genuinely, for the first time in so long, pressing his lips to yours as he joins your bodies, the soft moan that escapes your lips sounding like music in his ears. He stays still after sheathing his cock completely inside you, the two of you basking in the intimacy of the moment, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

You nod, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek as you nod, “Yes.”

Aemond kisses you once more, beginning to move against you, his body desperately rutting against yours, the feeling of your walls clenching around him like a vice being almost too pleasurable for him to bear. He’s dreamed of this for so very long, but the real thing surpasses everything he ever imagined. Your arms wrap around him and you rest your head against his chest as he pounds into you over and over, making you cry out his name in the most wanton of voices, begging him for more, begging him to fuck you harder.

And Aemond is all too happy to oblige, the thought of filling you with his seed, his babe growing in your belly spurring him on, your breasts swollen with milk, the entire realm knowing that the beautiful Lady Targaryen is his and his alone.

He is yours and you are his. He says as much as he spills himself inside you, feeling you squeeze around him impossibly tight mere moments later, having reached your own peak, your body going limp against him, the two of you basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

“I love you.”

You smile, standing on shaky legs, pulling him into a softer, more gentle kiss, as you whisper, “I love you too. I am ready to take my place at your side. As your princess,” you pause before whispering in his ear, a smirk playing on your lips, “And one day, as your queen.”

Aemond smirks, his lips finding yours once more.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #my writing #aemond oneshot #targaryen!reader #aemond #targcest

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malleleothreesome · 5 months

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Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand.

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property.

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic?

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater.

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous.

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air.

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this.

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest.

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined.

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor.

Fellow feels his pants tighten.

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will.

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show.

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks.

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful.

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream.

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes.

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates.

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront.

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll."

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours."

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

#Fellow Honest #Fellow Honest Smut #Twisted Wonderland Smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst fellow honest x reader smut #twst fellow honest smut #ferro honest #ferro honest smut #twst fellow #twst ferro #fellow honest x reader #ferro honest x reader #twisted wonderland fellow honest #stage in playful land #my writing

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keravnous · 25 days

Text

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

#i'm back girlies #john wick smut #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #smut #my writing #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut

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deliciousbasementtrash · 6 months

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Batman: Wayne Family Adventures #67-69 on Webtoon; Artist Inker Starbite

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are meeting the whole family for the first time. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, knife injury

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Part Four: Dinner and a Show

Anxiously, I took the napkin from the table and began twisting it vigorously. I felt Alfred leave his seat as he rose to meet his family. I swallowed hard, not wanting to look at all of the people that were entering the room. They just seemed to keep coming. How many people were in Bruce’s family?

Before I had time to register it a hand was outstretched near me. It nearly made me jump. The stranger cleared his throat and smiled, “Hello, I am Dick Grayson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

In an ungraceful motion, I put the napkin on the table and stood up to greet him properly. I took his hand in mine and firmly shook it. His hands were large, calloused, and a little clammy. It was almost like he was a little nervous to meet me. But that couldn’t be right.

“Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson. I am y/f/n y/l/n,” I said, trying to make eye contact with him. Dick was an extremely handsome man. He was almost achingly pretty. With his soft blue eyes, dimples, and dark curly hair, he could definitely charm the pants off anyone if he really wanted to.

His smile grew when our hands met. He just stood there for a moment looking at me, and then he pivoted to the side. He introduced Tim Drake and Duke Thomas. Tim was cordial and did the customary new person greeting, Duke was somewhat rambling.

“Your powers are truly something to be admired, thank you so much for everything you have done,” Duke said as he excitedly shook my hand.

I smiled at him and rubbed the back of my neck, “It’s really not that big of a deal but thank you, Duke. You guys are the ones that make the real change.”

Duke opened his mouth as if he were going to disagree, but a red-headed woman with glasses wheeled up to us and joined the conversation.

“You boys are hogging her. Hello, I am Barbara Gordon. This is Cass, she doesn’t say much, and this is Stephanie, she says too much.”

I greeted them both, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of new people. I was trying my best to act ‘normal’ and be as social and charming as I could be. A younger boy who strongly resembled Bruce stood far away from me. He surveyed the room, taking in the reactions. He seemed so serious for his age. I wasn’t sure if I should make the introduction or not.

“Where is Jason?” Bruce asked the room.

“He is running late,” Dick said, “he said he had some ‘other shit that needed to get done first.’”

Faintly, I saw Bruce tense, but just as quickly as it came, it went. “Alright, everyone leave y/n alone and go sit down.”

On my right, there was Alfred, who felt my anchor to the world. On my left, there was Dick Grayson, who felt like he was trying to get me to smile and laugh every chance he got.

The table soon became loud with conversations that finally were not about me. However, I felt eyes on me the whole night. Damian Wayne was across from me, staring at me the whole time like I was an intruder.

“So, you are a healer,” Damian said, skeptically.

I swallowed a bite of food and nodded, “I am.”

“What can you heal?” Damian asked, twirling his dinner knife in the air.

“Flesh wounds, broken bones, blood loss, head injury, organ injury,” I trailed off not knowing what else to say.

“How does it work?” His eyes narrowed at me.

“I’m not really sure. It’s as natural for me as breathing or blinking.”

“What are your–” Damien asked but then Bruce interrupted.

“Son, you do not need to vet our guest. Let her enjoy herself.”

Damien was suspicious of me and curious I wanted the boy to feel comfortable, “It’s okay, Bruce. It’s natural to be curious about it. What other questions do you have for me, Damien?’

“What are your limits?” Damien asked.

I felt the table go quiet. They all were curious and wanted to know my weaknesses. I instinctually did not want to answer, but I knew that if I wanted to be accepted I would need to be vulnerable and honest.

“I cannot heal a majority of terminal illnesses. Spinal injuries can go one way or the other it depends on the severity. I cannot heal tumors. And…. and healing is draining. If I am not smart about it, I can make myself sick.”

“Sick how?” Dick asked, leaning in.

“Well, it’s hard to explain. When I healed Bruce, it was after my shift at the hospital, I barely ate that day or slept the night before. So, when I put all that energy into healing him, it was exhausting. I nearly passed out on the ground next to him. When I got home, I slept for 16 hours straight. That is a more mild case though, it can get more… severe.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Bruce mumbled.

The boyish charm on Dick’s face vanished, “How severe can it get?”

“Oh, you know tremors, fever, bloody noses, vomiting, seizures. It can get bad. I’ve learned my limits the hard way, but I’ve learned them. Growing up my limits were more extreme. I couldn’t heal a paper cut without getting a headache. Small stuff like cuts and bruises doesn’t bother me at all now though. It barely scratches the surface of my limits.”

“Prove it,” Damien said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, annoyance filling my tone. I can handle his constant questions, but being told to prove it vexed me.

“You say you can heal cuts and bruises without it ‘scratching the surface.’ Prove it. Prove you’re not a charlatan witch.” It was a movement for a boy too quick for his age he took his dinner knife and sliced along his own arm.

“Damien!” Barbara yelled. Dick leaped across the table but it was too late, blood was already pooling. Bruce and Alfred cursed.

“Why did we allow Damien to have a knife at dinner?” Tim asked over the yelling.

“Tim, do you really think we gave him that knife?” Bruce asked, incredulously.

Anger surged as I slowly made my way around the table full of people yelling until I was in front of Damien. I glared at him as I rested my hands just above his cut. The room became silent as I healed him. The cut closed, and I replenished the blood that he lost.

Damien looked at me, dumbfounded. The whole room did expect for Bruce and Alfred.

“It’s one thing to hear about it, but to see it… you really are a miracle.” Duke said the words and I flinched from them.

I looked at Damien and let my anger show through. “I will not heal you if you pull something like this again. I don’t care how much your father pays me. I am not a monkey that will dance for you on a whim. Do not harm yourself to make a point or prove something again.” Damien angrily ripped his arm away from me. I didn’t care. It was unacceptable. He should never hurt himself intentionally like that just because he knows I can heal him. I turned and faced the room, “It was lovely meeting all of you. I hope you all have a nice evening, good night.”

And with that, I turned around and left for the night. Maybe I shouldn’t be as mad as I am right now, but I know I need a moment to myself. I heard light footsteps beside me as someone lightly jogged to catch up.

“I’m sorry about Damien we are still house-training him,” Dick said, trying his best to lighten the mood.

I didn’t crack a smile, “It’s okay, Dick, really.”

“He can be intense sometimes, well we all can,” ever so lightly he reached up and grabbed my elbow, turning me so I faced him. “We are a lot. We are loud. We are sarcastic. We all think we are right all the time. We fight. We can be obsessive, protective, and socially inept. You will constantly have to patch us up–”

I shook my head, my eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You need to know exactly what you are getting into. It won’t be fair to you if you don’t know,” he said, absent-mindedly his thumb stroking the inner part of my elbow. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it, but I was acutely aware of it.

I just nodded, “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate the honesty. Besides, if I can handle my family, I can handle yours. Good night, Dick.”

“Of course, good night, y/n.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t have the energy for it.

I walked toward my room, suddenly so exhausted. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, and accidentally ran into a wall.

“Um excuse you,” a deep voice said.

Taglist: I am just starting a taglist; if you would like to be included please comment :)

@soundsfunbutno

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islayhawkin · 3 months

Text

Rescue

Jack dawkins x f!reader

Summery: jack is accused of thieving and you take the blame for him instead.

Request: Hello could I request a Jack Dawkins x reader? Where maybe reader knows he’s a thief and is fine with it and when he maybe gets caught for something she takes the blame for it? And fagin and Jack have to scramble to save her

A/N: honestly had problems coming up with this whole plot so idk how to feel about it but hope it is somewhat what you had in mind

Jack wasn't particularly proud about his past and he tried to start a new life but it seems he couldn't escape it and it came back to haunt him. In the form of Fagin.

He had built a reputation around Port Victory town as a surgeon. And he met you. You were a great enrichment in his life as you brought your sweetness to his side. You were always there for him and he was for you. It was a unspoken promise.

Contrary to what he'd known since his childhood there was a good intention and softness behind everything you did. He relished the evenings with you in his room. Sometimes you came to watch his surgeries but you had to work hard to survive in the pottery factory too.

So naturally you understood that jack was a pickpocket back in the days. He was reluctant to tell you though- a part of him he wanted to leave desperately behind. You were okay with it. You reassured him that you understood that he needed to.

But something changed when Fagin came back into jacks life. You noticed immediately. He tried to hide things from you. He said you couldn't meet in his room anymore since he seemed to try and hold Fagin as far away from you as possible.

He wanted to keep you out of his mess and Fagin only did bring a mess everywhere he went. Jack was afraid you'd get caught up in it somehow. And as long as you wouln't get to see Fagin you wouldn't know what was going on. Or so he thought.

Of course you found out. At first you were angry with him. Especially for trying to hide it from you. But after you talked about it you let it be. You didn't like it. But it was okay.

Until that day were he got caught.

It was a quiet evening at the pub. Jack had his neckerchief loosely slung around his neck and a few drinks already drowned. Fagin sat across from him. A few high society families were seated near them. A girl came over to jack and sat in his lap with a smile. He shook his head politely and gestured for her to remove herself from him.

You saw them sitting at the table and joined them as you sat down in jacks lap yourself. Giving him a kiss on his temple in greeting. He hummed contently and pulled you close to him by the hip. "You had drinks already?" You questioned quietly.

"Yeah. Sorry. You want the rest?" He held the glass up for you to take.

"No thanks."

He sat the glass down on the table again and watched as Fagin got up and got another drink. A short moment later Fagin came back and patted jack on his vest before he sat down again.

The evening went on as you and jack enyojed eachothers company. He had a few more drinks and Fagin scrambled up a few times from the table.

Until a small shriek could be heard. "My pearls! They've been stolen!" A seemingly rich woman screamed histerically. Everyone looked around and started speaking incoherently. They started to search every man in the pub.

Your eyes twitched nervously around the room and you noticed jack to be particularly anxious as well. You were certain it couldn't be him since he was with you the whole time though.

As they came to your table and started to feel jacks clothes up and down they stilled at his pocket and gripped into it. A pearl necklace was fished out of jacks vest pocket.

Jack had a horrified expression on his face and started to stammer out excuses. Trying to deny his fault. A gasp went through the the crowd.

"Doctor Dawkins. Is this your doing? Our doctor is robbing the people of this town!" The people roared with shock.

He would be losing his job because of this. He'd be losing his life here.

"No sir I-" jack tried to reason but you interrupted him as you saw no better way out of this.

"It is my doing. I have to confess as I do not want doctor dawkins to be blamed innocently. He had no part in this. My conciousness can not lie to you anymore. I needed the money-" another gasp went through the room.

Jack turned his face to you. A look of fear in his eyes. He tried to grap your arm to stop you but you shook him off. He wouldn't be able to pull you both out of this so you took the chance to at least save him.

The man took you roughly by the arm. "You are accused and guilty of theft."

"No." Jack muttered shaking his head. But nobody paid any attention to him.

You glanced back at him as you were escorted outside and you could see a look of desperation in his eyes.

Jack couldn't believe it. You took the blame for his buggin' thievery. He knew it would get you in trouble if he got you involved and the one thing happened he was afraid of.

He turned around to grab Fagin by the collar and pushed him harshly against the wall in a quiet corner.

"I told you not to do anything when she's around! You should be escorted to prison. Couldn't even stand to your bloody action!" He roared into Fagins face. His eyes held pure fury in them.

Fagin held his hands up in surrender and looked sheepishly. "It was a good oportunity. I didn't know they'd notice so soon." Fagin shrugged.

"You got her buggin' imprisoned. She never did anythin' ." He pushed against Fagins chest again in frustration.

"That's her own doing."

"No it is not. It is your doing. Our. Mine." Jack pushed the words painfully out. He removed himself from Fagin and ran throught his hair with his hand.

His inability to stop with the thieving, with the gambeling, to leave his past behind got you into trouble and he'd never forgive himself for it. He never should have started with this. He should have kept you safe. Far away from the mess. Far away from him.

"How do we get her out of this?" Jack asked quietly.

Fagin was quiet for a moment before a smirk appeared on his face. "You're a doctor."

Jack frowned confused. "What has that to do with anythin' right now?"

"You're her doctor."

"You mean...I can't do that..." It dawned on jack and he shook his head.

"Do you want to free her or not?"

"I'd have to declare her insane. She'd be the talk of town. She'd have no job anywhere..." Jack closed his eyes and pinched his brows. Whatever he did it would come down to harm her life in some way. "I need to know what their doing to her." He whispered and dashed out of the door.

Fagin ran after him panting quite a bit. There was determined expression on Jacks face as he made his way across town to the police station.

Fagin complained a bit about the pace and that they should call a ride but jack ignored him.

Finally standing in front of the door he knocked. There was a moment of silence and no reaction. Jack sighed and walked around the building. Searching for any way in or at least see something. A small window with bars on it suggested a look into the cell at the back of the building.

Jack waved Fagin over and told him to give him a lift. Fagin grumbled but held his hands to the ground for jack to climb onto. He could barely see through the bars but he could clearly make out a form of a person pacing back and forth in the cell.

"Y/N?!" Jack whisper-shouted into the window.

You reeled around at the sudden voice and you saw his mop of blond hair pop up behind the bars.

"Jack?! What are you doing?" You looked up at him surprised.

"Trying to get you out of there obviously. Isn't there any bobby (name for police officers in victorian times) in there with you?"

"Uh..." you looked around the room to check again. "No. I think he left to gather more information or something."

""Y/N I need to testify as your doctor. They'll let it slide if I insist."

"Testify what? That it wasn't me? Then you're guilty."

"No." His head disapeared for a moment and Fagin seemed to grumble complaints. Then his head appeared again. "I have to testify as your doctor." He cleared his throat. "I'll have to come up with some sickness. One that is cureable."

You looked at him incredilous. "You want to declare me insane? That's your way of thinking about rescueing?" You scoffed.

"Sorry." His head disapeared again. You shook your head and sat down against the wall.

*** It was morning when the door to the building opened again and the bobby came in. Shortly after jack did too from what you could tell. You could hear them talk but couldn't make out coherent words until they came in your direction.

You sought jacks eyes for some kind of information or reassurence but there was none. The bobby unlocked your cell door and took you by the arm to pull in jacks direction.

"You have a close look on her. Something like this happens again I will not be so kind. She's your responsibility doctor."

"Of course sir. I will keep her in line until she's cured. Thank you." Jack gave the bobby a nod and he gave jack one back out of respect.

Jack hadn't even as much as glanced in your direction. He took you by the arm bow too to escort you outside. You stayed silent the whole time. Knowing your place.

As soon as you both walked around a corner jacks expression changed completely. He turned to you with his soft deep brown eyes. "What were you thinking taking the blame." He racked a hand through his hair.

You took his rough hand in yours. "I couldn't let you be blamed. You have way more to lose than me."

Jack opened his mouth and closed it again. "Wha- that's not the point. You had nothing to do with it. I didn't want you to be involved in that stuff. I should've never started again. It's my fault and I should own up for it too."

"I know. But I gladly did it okay? I just couldn't watch you loose everything you built."

He sighed. "Thank you. But you still shouldn't have done it. I feel so guilty. I was...afraid."

You pulled yourself against him. Wrapping your arms around his slender back. "Thank you for getting me out."

He buried his face in the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I'd always stand up for you."

"I'd always rescue you. Whatever it'd take."

#Jack dawkins x reader #jack dawkins #the artful dodger #tbs

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 8 months

Text

What is Broken (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) SNEAK PEEK

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, maybe smut in the future idk

Author's note: Ok well since Studious came out of me trying to power through my writer's block, hopefully this'll not only be as good, but also work as well for kicking writer's block's ass. Idk how long it's gonna be. It's based on a convo I had with the Aemond AI (made by @foxyanon ) on a day when I just didn't feel like being happy at all. Coming soon (I hope)!

What is Broken Sneak Peek

It was a lovely night in King’s Landing.

There was not a cloud to be seen for miles, and the stars were bright and twinkling. The waters of Blackwater Bay were calm and reflected the full moon as clearly as a freshly polished mirror. Even the wind seemed in a pleasant mood, carrying the sweet scent of spring on its back as it drifted lazily through the windows of the Red Keep.

Every bit of it grated on her heart like a whetstone across dull steel.

The worst night of one’s life should not be so lovely, she thought. It should be terrible. With storms and an angry sea, and perhaps even a raging fire somewhere in the distance.

If the night had been so, she would not have seen it when, only a few moments ago, a massive winged form landed in the fields just outside the city with a lowing wail, the last person she wanted to see strapped to its back. Thankfully, Aemond was far enough away that she could not make him out against the mass of his mount.

The people would cheer him in the streets as he rode toward the castle. The victorious Prince, returning after long months at war, having not only ended the war itself but avenged the deaths of his sister, brother, and his little nieces and nephews.

Daemon Targaryen and his dragon had perished above the God’s Eye, the waters below boiling when their bodies fell into its depths.

With the Rogue Prince gone, the war was swiftly over. Rhaenyra was killed, her last remaining son taken as King Aegon’s ward, and the royal host returned to King’s Landing victorious. Even Cregan Stark had agreed to halt his advance South, redirecting to Harrenhal for peace talks.

Harrenhal. A cursed place, now to be the site of great diplomacy.

Even thinking about the horrible castle was enough to turn her stomach.

A letter detailing exactly what had occurred within those melted stone halls during the war, written by the late Prince Daemon himself, sat on her vanity. A final act of retribution against his soon-to-be killer.

She knew that her husband was only returning home because of the letter.

My dear Princess,

Despite the conflict between our sides of the family, I have always thought you a rather sweet girl. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I must now shoulder the burden of informing you of your beloved husband’s improper conduct during this awful conflict…

A pang of nausea shot through her stomach as she remembered the words.

A mistress… some Strong bastard… called Alys, my spies tell me… every night, without fail… from the very first week… another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb…

There was a pounding from within her, soft thumps and kicks as the life inside her own womb became unsettled by its mother’s roiling emotions. She laid a hand over her belly, whispering soothing words she did not believe to try and calm it – and herself.

Once, she would never have believed Daemon’s stories. But then word came that, after the final battle, Aemond returned to Harrenhal for less than an hour before he again mounted Vhagar and flew for King’s Landing. It was not like Aemond to make such swift decisions. Nor did it strike her as the action of an innocent man.

When she called for Ser Willis Fell, her heart had been filled with hope that the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would dispel her worries. That she had only allowed herself to consider the possibility of Aemond’s infidelity because her mind was addled by her delicate condition.

“My princess, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you a lie…”

She had screamed then. And cried. And possibly thrown things at the Kingsguard, but she couldn’t entirely remember.

All she could remember was how Aemond kissed her on the day he left for Harrenhal. Deeply and passionately. Until she could feel his love for her as clearly as her own heartbeat. Then he knelt before her and placed a single, tender kiss to her belly, to where they had only just learned that their babe grew.

Less than a moon’s turn later, he had taken another woman to his bed, and seeded her, too.

#What is Broken #aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #ewan mitchell

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for ditching a long-term friend?

I (35F) had a friend (S, 33F) for years. We bonded the first night we met. We had ups an downs, and went everywhere together. I helped her kick her bf out after he tried to hit her and helped her through two miscarriages. She helped me through a family member death and a career change. We would speak almost every day, for hours.

She was always slightly more conservative than me. When 2016 rolled around, she supported Trump. I didn't like that, but it wasn't my place to bitch about it to her, it was her decision.

By 2020, she'd changed. Idk how it happened but she went from slightly conservative Christian who loved school and being a nurse and had friends who were LGBT+ (myself included), to deadnaming trans patients, refusing to do a blood draw on a patient after she said it was a prerequisite for an abortion, forcing patients to pray with her, even when they and their families spoke out against it, and bugging her coworkers to pray with her. She got fired from the hospital and was completely unable to hold down a job after that, and went through about 6 jobs that year, getting fired from them all. She got with a guy (B, 32M) and he is a... Well, he is a damn nut. Flat earther, antivaxxer, anti- Department of Education, anti-cell phone, thought bluetooth was turning kids trans, and that covid is 100% a hoax. Absolutely bonkers. But she was smitten, so I supported her, barely.

It's important to note that I backed away from her a bit after she was fired from the hospital. We were only speaking once every few weeks at that point.

Shortly after she got with B, my nephew was born. My nephew is half Mexican, half white. She called him "cute for a half n*g" because she thought my SIL is black. This blew me away because she's half Mexican. I told her off and distanced myself even further.

In 2021, she was a huge supporter of Jan 6th. She LAUGHED when that one cop killed himself. I stopped talking to her completely after that. Deleted her contact info and forgot she existed for almost 2 years.

Cut to October of this year, and she calls me. I didn't recognize her #. She and B are getting married! And she wants me to be a bridesmaid!!! Yayy! (sarcasm). She told me a long-winded variation of "I know we haven't talked for a bit but I promise I'm not as bonkers as I was, I think I let Facebook suck me in, and I'm sorry."

So, I let her back in. Not emotionally, mind you. She's not the woman I once knew anymore. I don't tell her where our house is (my partner and I moved while S and I weren't speaking), and I didn't tell her what car I drove. I didn't tell her anything about our lives, and kept the conversation solely on her, to try and read her out a bit.

Sure enough, two conversations in she starts ranting about how black people are black because they received the mark of Cain (it's a Christian thing? I guess? Idk I'm not religious) and thus should be avoided because they are inherently "up to no good," and that systemic racism doesn't exist because the US has had a black president.

I roll my eyes, hang up the phone, block her number, and end it, permanently, right there. I received a few odd texts from a number I didn't recognize, probably B's phone, so I just blocked that number and deleted them without reading most of them.

Cue our mutual friends. 🙄

She misses you! People can have differing opinions and still be friends! Why are you being so closed minded? She told us you yelled at her! 😭😭😭

Lol. I didn't say a word, but whatever.

I'd rather adjust my life to her absence than adjust my morality to her ignorance.

My partner is on my side, they saw her change, too. But our mutual friends are still upset. I shared some the racist and sexist text convos between me and S, and it's like they hadn't even considered my side of the situation. One is on my side now, the other two are still questioning how I can throw away a 6 year friendship over "differing politics."

So, Tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #slur cw

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okaylorrainee · 1 year

Text

her way of water

characters. neteyam & female metkayina reader. sully family. tsireya.

synopsis. neteyam and his family left their clan to seek uturu from yours. on their first night, neteyam wanders by the shore to clear his mind. he finds himself away from everyone’s marui pods and comes across you as you bathed - he couldn’t get you out of his mind since then.

contains. aged up characters but only by a few years. timeline and some parts of the plot of the movie may be ignored. sometimes out of character.

note. hello! welcome to my first avatar ff :)! this was supposed to be a one shot, but as i wrote it, i’ve decided one part isn’t enough. sorry if any parts of the story seem weird. i still have a lot to learn about the na’vi. do they even bathe? idk. english is not my first language so please feel free to correct me if i get anything wrong! also, this may be the first avatar ff i’ve ever written and published but it might not be the last so stay tuned!

Ch 01 [ masterlist . next ]

he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. a low grunt left his lips as he sat up in frustration. he looked around and his family was in deep slumber, perhaps due to exhaustion from all of the water training they’ve done all day. he wished he could be the same, then at least he’d silence the sadness he felt from leaving his home.

neteyam didn’t want to voice it out too much. he knew it was harder for his parents, especially for his mother whose whole life was the forest. he refused to burden the family with his emotions, so he suppressed them, like the responsible eldest son he always was.

he sighed, making his way out of their family pod. he didn’t know where he was going at this time of the night, but he just allowed his feet to keep going. wherever he’d end up, he’d just make sure to find his way back again before the sun rises. because tomorrow was another day to learn the ways of the metkayina, to be one of them.

neteyam uttered not a single word, and nothing but the sound of waves surrounded him. the breeze accompanied him as he walked, his hair flowing with the wind that the beads braided with them collided every now and then. he found the air relaxing, that every time he inhaled he felt like his lungs were being cleansed from how fresh it was.

awa’atlu was indeed a very beautiful place, but neteyam adored his clan’s forest more.

neteyam found himself by the edge of the shore. beside him stood the palm trees that formed the forest he has yet to explore. thinking he had gone too far away from the village, neteyam was about to turn and walk back, until he heard low humming come from his left, the parallel of the village’s front.

curious, he carefully approached and followed the sound. the humming got louder as he got closer. and soon, a figure came into view in front of him. it was a silhouette of a metkayina na’vi, waist deep within the water, staring into the vast ocean in front of her.

neteyam hadn’t felt his eyes gape at the sight of her. she was undressed, nothing but her long hair covering parts no one but only her future mate should see. her skin was wet and the freckles all around her body made her glow. this kind of scene should not be new to him, after all, he too had freckles that glowed in the dark. but for some reason, neteyam seemed to be so mesmerized by her that he found it hard to look away. only when her whispers of singing reached his ears once more did he realize that he was staring at this naked na’vi woman. he immediately turned away and hid behind a palm tree.

neteyam’s cheek burned from embarrassment. just what was he doing? but actually, what was she doing? at this time of the night while the rest of the clan was asleep, she was here apparently bathing at the opposite side of the village’s island. for someone who spends so much time in the water, this metkayina woman had the thought of washing herself in the middle of the night - neteyam found it a bit odd.

however, he stood still from his spot. he didn’t want to walk away, he was curious as to what she might be up to. this wasn’t weird, right? it’s not like he was watching her. he was simply… waiting.

a couple of minutes passed but nothing else happened. she continued doing whatever it was she was doing by the water, creating small splashing sounds here and there while humming another song different from the previous one. this whole time, neteyam was leaning on the tree, staring at the sand and doing nothing. but he had to admit, instead of being bored out of his mind, he enjoyed his time listening to her voice.

soon enough another gentle splash came from behind him, it sounded different from the ones before, indicating that she might be leaving the water. neteyam felt a sudden wave of nervousness, worried she might find him. so without looking back, he quickly ran to the direction of the village, moving carefully to not alert her of his presence.

it had been long since then. hours had passed and the sun had risen. neteyam and his siblings were once again under the care of the olo’eyktan’s children to learn about metkayina customs. today, they were polishing their riding skills with ilus.

tsireya and her brother were watching the sullys from near the shore, both mounted on their ilu companions. ao’nung spent most of the time snickering as he watched lo’ak fail over and over, and tsireya would smack him to make him stop. she flashes a gentle smile to lo’ak when he peeks to look in her direction, and he nods at her trying to appear cool before getting thrown off once more for losing focus. she giggled, lo’ak appeared very cute to her.

tsireya shifted her eyes to the others. kiri and tuk, who were accompanied by ao’nung’s friend, rotxo, seemed to be doing better than their brother. tsireya noticed how kiri appeared to be a natural at everything they have taught them so far, and she thinks it may be because of the special kind of connection kiri had with nature. but tsireya didn’t comment on it any further, she had only met them yesterday.

meanwhile, neteyam was alone on the far right of the group. tsireya noted how neteyam was quick to adapt and learn, and that it wasn’t difficult to teach him. compared to his brother, neteyam took things slow at first and it made him grasp the idea of riding the ilus easily.

tsireya hadn’t missed how distracted neteyam looked today. he was paused above the water, staring at it in deep thought as he held his ilu in place. tsireya wondered if something was wrong, so she motioned her ilu to swim to neteyam’s direction.

“hey, neteyam.” she said to catch his attention.

the said man lightly jolted before turning to her. “oh, tsireya, hey.”

her brows furrowed in worry. “is everything alright, neteyam? it seems like you are unable to concentrate today.”

neteyam’s cheeks flushed. “i am okay, tsireya. there is no need to worry.”

she hummed, still not convinced. “well, alright. but if there is anything we can help you with, let us know.” she turned to swim away. but before she could get farther, neteyam called her.

“actually, tsireya, there is something that’s been on my mind for hours now.” he started. “but you must not let anyone know.”

curious, tsireya went closer to him. “what is it?”

he let out a deep breath before shooting her eyes a serious look. “last night as i was taking a walk by the shore, i came across a woman who was alone at the opposite side of the village.”

tsireya pulled away in shock and interest. “metkayina? what was she doing?”

neteyam nodded then gestured for her to lean closer again. he whispered, “she was bathing, i think.”

“bathing? that is strange.” she tilted her head in confusion. “did you approach her?”

neteyam shook his head. “no. i could not bring myself to interrupt her. she was undressed after all. how would she react if a man came to her while in such a state?”

tsireya nodded in thought, agreeing to what he said. “you are right. did you see what she looked like?”

neteyam sighed. “no, but i listened to her sing.” he spoke. “she has one of the most beautiful voices i have ever heard. her tone almost made me fall asleep from how relaxed i was, you see. and her skin,” he sighed once again, “tsireya, i had only caught a glimpse of it because i had to turn away. but i could not forget how divine she looked around the glow of the bioluminescence surrounding her.”

tsireya couldn’t hide the smirk that was growing from her lips as she listened to him talk. when she didn’t respond, neteyam turned away in embarrassment when he realized what he was saying. tsireya covered her lips and giggled. “so, you have developed a crush on this woman you saw last night. is that it, neteyam?”

“be quiet, tsireya! the others might hear you.” he scouted the surroundings and saw that everyone else was still busy with their training. “but… i don’t know for sure. i told you because i don’t know what she looks like, and i am hoping that you might know who she is.”

tsireya shook her head. “i am sorry, neteyam. i do not know who you are talking about.”

a slight frown becomes visible on his face. neteyam’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “oh. that’s okay.”

“but hey, do not worry.” she placed a hand on his arm as a gesture to comfort him. “i will help you look for her. there is not anyone in this village i am not familiar with. perhaps with more details, we can figure out who she is.”

neteyam gives her a small smile. “thank you, tsireya.”

she smiles back.

loud laughter from everyone else in the group interrupted their conversation - lo’ak had fallen off his ilu once again because ao’nung had taunted him. tsireya and neteyam exchanged looks before heading to the commotion.

tsireya enjoyed spending time with the sullys. she thought they were a very fun bunch. when they arrived, her days became something she started to look more forward to.

because she believed this arrangement would be permanent from now on, she thought it would be important for an acquaintance of hers to be introduced to the sullys as well. it would happen eventually anyway since they would become fellow clan members soon.

also, tsireya believed this acquaintance of hers would be a great addition to the sullys’ circle, especially from all the trouble her brother and his friends were bringing them. tsireya was sure that a kind and open-minded na’vi would make her new friends feel more welcome. that, and she needed another capable hand to help teach the sullys better.

“sister, are you here?” tsireya peeked inside the marui of her friend.

you turned your head to her direction, away from the new top you were working on. a smile appears on your face when you see your friend. “tsireya, it is nice to see you.”

ch 01 [ masterlist . next ]

#loreraine #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar 2 #atwow fluff #neteyam x metkayina!reader #herwayofwater

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williamrikers · 9 months

Text

some incoherent thoughts about THE queer rights scene of 2023

i love that in this episode, kawi had to confront his latent fears about being part of the queer community. notably, we can see his face on "queer people do not have the same rights that straight people do". if he wants to act on his feelings for pisaeng, this is the reality he will have to accept--and this is the reality he has been trying to avoid for A LOT of years at this point.

he spent so much time trying to make fetch happen, conform to society's standards by step 1: romancing a beautiful woman, step 2: ???, step 3: profit. however, even when he did manage to romance pear, he failed to go through with the other ""normal"" heterosexual milestones: he refused to marry her, refused to start a family with her, both of which she explicitly asked him for. kawi never outright says this but i would like to think that the reason he doesn't is because deep down he does not want those milestones for himself. the original plan before he started time traveling was "make pear fall in love with me". the plan never went any further than that. apparently, once she was in love with him, kawi then didn't really know what to do with her.

because all that time, kawi had been deluding himself. had been hiding from the truth of himself because the truth was scary and painful, not just on a personal level but in a "if i admit this about myself, my rights might be taken away, my humanity might be questioned" way. and in this scene, kawi had to confront that. had to be told, yes, this is the risk you are taking. and kawi decided that for pisaeng, that risk is worth it.

one of kawi's main flaws that he's been struggling to overcome is his tendency to run away. max called him out on this a few episodes ago, and the whole story even starts with kawi running from the bleak reality of his lonely life by escaping into his own past.

kawi, pisaeng and max all have storylines about not running away, about choosing to stay and fight: for pisaeng and max, that choice is mostly geographical, but for kawi, that choice is spiritual. he has to choose to stay by pisaeng's side and fight for him. he has to choose to be honest and upfront about his feelings. he has to choose to live his life in the present and taking on the challenges life throws at him without running away from them.

interestingly, in this episode where he truly starts to embrace that, the episode opens on his father finally and irrevocably dying. some things can't be changed even through magical time travel. some things kawi has to face, no matter how hard he tries to run away from them. (and yes, i am extremely smug about having predicted this correctly.)

not gonna lie, "love for your body, your soul, or even love for someone else" changed me on the molecular level. queerness as love for our bodies and our souls, man, that just hit me today, especially because i honestly Do Not love my body. i can't bear to look at myself most days. but recontextualizing that desire to change myself into a shape i will be more comfortable in as love... i think this show somehow gave me therapy today?? idk i'm very incoherent about this but man. this is going to stay with me for the rest of my life.

GOD, my man kawi is so scared. SO SO SO scared. always has been. and him having to confront that along with everything else he's had to confront is just so beautiful. he has to embrace the fear if he wants his life to be better. there's no magical button that's going to take the fear away (ironic, on the show with the magical time traveling device), he has to confront it and power through it, and we see him do just that in the confession scene.

that confession. jesus, kawi is TERRIFIED. he tries to tell pisaeng like three times and can't do it every time, up until pisaeng threatens to leave again and kawi is like. no. not having pisaeng in my life is even worse than telling him the truth, and it just breaks out of him. that confession scene is just utterly brilliant on so many levels, because at this point, kawi has learned to speak gracefully and with purpose, and he does that, but it is so clear that he's also deeply afraid. and pisaeng teasing him about it by letting him believe for a moment that he won't go out with kawi... these two deserve each other. they're both idiots. why am i crying.

everything in this show has been about growth from the start: pisaeng going from marrying a woman he knew he could never love to outright saying "i'm gay" to his homophobic mother, kawi going from being a cringefail anti-social shut-in to someone who can speak and listen gracefully and with humility (when he tries). and those journeys weren't easy! we saw kawi struggling for eight whole episodes to become a kinder, more sociable person. we saw pisaeng literally flee the gay club the first time he went there.

because love isn't just about feelings for someone else. (max actually mentions those last.) love is, first and foremost, love for ourselves, for our bodies and our souls. and, as max says:

this show is a love story, but more importantly, it is a story of growth. of kawi and pisaeng loving themselves enough to embrace the fear and the uncertainty and daring to love themselves and each other, daring to live their truth. daring to grow and change and embrace these changes. and some of those changes they go through stem from their love for each other, while others deepen their love for each other (personally, i think we'll see more of the latter in the upcoming episodes).

pisaeng loved kawi from the very start. he loved him as he was: a shy, awkward loner. in pisaeng's opinion, there was nothing wrong with kawi, no reason not to love him. however, they can only love each other after kawi makes the effort to change himself, makes the effort to "become a better man", as the lyrics of the theme song would have it. because that shy, awkward loner could never stand in front of tall, gorgeous pisaeng and tell him with emotional honesty and complete certainty that he likes him and wants to go out with him. and a relationship can only work if both parties are equally invested in it.

#be my favorite #be my favorite the series #*mine #long post #i love this show a normal amount i swear (lying)

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folk-ivy · 3 months

Note

HELP idk where to like request shit but you should do one where it’s like a matt or chris fic based off the song dress by taylor andddd basically they’ve been “dating” for like a few months but trying to keep it from the other brothers and y/n get’s fed up because she’s sick of feel like like a secret (illicit affairs pun lol?) anyways so she shows up to this party they’re all going to in a really hot sexy dress knowing it’ll mess w matt/chris head nd then like smut in a bathroom 🎀🔥💖 thank yewww bye.

Dress.

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

When you break-up with your secret boyfriend after being tired of being kept a secret, a stupid party may change everything

smut!

author's notes: thank you so much for your request! sorry if this was not what you imagined, i had never written smut before, so sorry if this is bad (it probably is)! once again, english is not my first language, i apologize for any mistakes!💗

warnings: smut; cursing

The red dress with black lace flowers was hugging my figure perfectly, defining every curve exactly the way I like it. I run my hand over the dress hugging my body and when I feel the silk with the touches of lace all over my palm, I knew the night would be something to remember.

“Earth calling Y/N” I hear my best friend, Emily, who was sitting on the queen-sized bed in the middle of her room, say to me.

"I'm here, I'm here" I say without a hint of enthusiasm.

"Oh, you're still sad about that fight, right?" she says and I automatically lower my gaze.

The fight.

I've never been a quarrelsome person, I've never liked anything that leads to a disagreement, maybe it's because I can't maintain an argument without starting to cry, but that's another story.

With Matt everything seemed different.

I liked that idiot so much that I ended up fighting with him; not out of hate, but because I liked him so much and I just wanted him to understand my side for just a moment.

I hated being kept a secret, I hated the feeling of having to hide and having to act like a fugitive, a criminal.

But I think it's stupid things we do when we're in love.

Emily was the only one who remotely knew about us, well she knew we were more than friends but she had no idea he had asked me to be his girlfriend a while ago.

Matt hid me from everyone, his brothers, his parents, his family and especially his fans. At first it was fun, the adrenaline of hiding from everyone, of taking risks. Over time I started to hate it, I started to want to be free at any cost, even if it wasn't with him by my side.

--3 hours before--

"Matt, you don't understand! I really like you! I don't want to hide anymore" I say, feeling the heavy tears forming in my eyes.

"You don't understand my side! Do you know what they'll say if they find out we're together?" he shouts "they're going to slaughter you, Y/N, that's what they're going to do!"

"I don't care! I just want to be able to have you by my side without having to worry about what the rest of the world thinks!" I say, even louder "shit, not even your brothers know about me! And they know everything about you! It's almost like you're ashamed of me"

"Stop acting like a child" he says, this time with a lower but more rigid tone of voice.

"Fuck you, Matt! I'm not a woman to be hidden, and if you don't want to admit me, fuck you!" I scream, with tears already streaming down my face "we should break up"

"What?"

"That's right, we're breaking up!" I speak, this time lower but with more hatred laced in my voice "t your fans and your brothers that you were too soft to be able to keep a woman like me"

I grab my bag from the beige sofa and walk to the door, when I feel my boyfriend's, or rather ex-boyfriend's, arm grabbing my wrist.

"Please don't go" he says softly, with a small tear running down his face

I shake my wrist until he lets go and walk out the wooden door.

--current time--

“Fuck, Y/N, lost in thought again?” Emily's voice interrupts my daydreams again.

"Sorry, sorry" I say

"Come, the Uber is coming" she says, gets out of bed, and drags me to the front of the house

"I'm not in the mood, Emi" I say "can't we stay home?"

I've always liked parties, and it's very likely that this one will cheer me up after my bad breakup with Matt, but, knowing what the triplets are like and knowing the character of the owner of the party house, it's very likely that I'll meet them there and, if If I meet Matt, my night is likely to end right there.

"We're too hot to stay at home, come on!" She says and drags me when a notification from that app arrives on her cell phone.

The way to the party was short but funny, after we discovered that the Uber driver was, in fact, Emily's distant cousin.

We greeted Emily's cousin/uber and got out of the car when we saw the large party house located at the end of the street.

The place was huge, and had a silver bear statue outside and neon lights going off everywhere.

We presented our invitations that we bought 2 hours before, and entered the house.

Loud music and the smell of weed quickly overwhelm my senses, and I look at Emi as she drags me over to the corner to get a drink.

I order a shot of whiskey; I've never been a drinker, but I think a little alcohol won't hurt, right?

We talk for a while sitting on the metal bar stool, and in a small moment of silence I observe the other side of the 4-story house, and that's where my world stops.

Matt

My eyes meet his and I watch as he walks towards me.

I panic, after all, what the hell can you do when your ex-boyfriend is coming towards you in the middle of a crowded party?

Is pretending to faint really such a bad option?

Before I can put my plan into action and throw myself on the ground, I feel a warm hand grab my arm.

"Hi" he says with his palm on my arm, but avoiding my gaze

"What do you want, Matthew?" I say

"Please, can we at least talk?"

"No"

"Please!"

"She fucking said no!" my friend interrupts, ripping Matt's hand off my arm.

A simple conversation can't end so badly, right?

"Emi, it's okay" I say in a calm voice, and I watch from the corner as Matt's eyes fill with hope "Let's go"

I get up and walk towards the unisex bathroom that was just a few meters away from us.

I enter the bathroom followed by Matt, and I can't help but notice when he locks the door.

"Hey, I think we should talk" he says softly, when I turn towards him with my arms crossed.

"Yes, you already said that" I say "say it, Matt"

"Please, I want you back! Forgive me for hiding you for so long, I think I was just too scared; I don't care what the world thinks, I just want you! It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since I've seen you but I already miss your hugs, so please come back with me...I love you" he says, without pauses and with an extremely shaky voice.

I've never been one to trust others, but something in his tone told me he was serious, and that I could trust him.

However, I couldn't help but pay attention to his last three words.

'I love you'

Shit, I love this idiot too, after all, who could not? His laugh, his smile, and all his flaws, I love everything, and I just want him to know that.

"I love you too, asshole" I say and grab his face in my hands, while pulling him for a kiss.

What was supposed to be an innocent kiss became a make out session, and what was supposed to be a make out session, became something bigger.

Once sweet and calm, the meeting of our mouths was now frantic and needy.

His hands fly to my waist and down to my ass, while my hands roughly grab strands of him.

"You know, I loved that dress, but I would love for it to be on the floor" he breaks the kiss.

"You know, I only bought it so you could take it off" I say and we both laugh as he slowly lowers the right strap.

My left hand is quick to pull the other strap, leaving me now naked from the waist up.

"Holy shit" he says staring at my breasts

"You can touch it" I say and smirk.

His hands fly to my bust, with his fingers pinching the nipples that are stiff from the cold of the bathroom.

A soft moan leaves my mouth and I see his pupils dilate even further, if possible, as he lets out his own moan.

I kiss him again as he pushes me towards the sink, picking me up on his lap and, without breaking the kiss, placing me on top of the sink with my legs open and him between them.

“Let me fuck you, please?” he asks slyly.

"Yes" I whisper with my eyes closed, and I hear his belt being unfastened and the sound of his jeans falling to the floor.

His hands go straight to my wet center, and I feel him tear my panties and make a small caress on my thigh.

"Wow, I liked those panties" I say

"I'll buy you twenty of these, love"

He presses his forehead to mine, hugs my waist and begins to slowly insert his dick into my entrance.

"My god" I say and lock my eyes on his, while I feel a small burning sensation.

The touch of pain is soon replaced by pure pleasure as I feel him thrust his entire length into me.

"Please move" I whisper and plant a little kiss on his mouth, just to let him know it's okay.

And he starts, with slow but strong thrusts.

The wet sound and our moans are all that can be heard in the bathroom with the white tiled wall, the occasional noise of my body against the sink is also present.

And, again, what was sweet and calm becomes frantic and needy.

His thrusts are faster, and I grab his hair with my hands while his right palm goes towards my clitoris, making circular movements and giving small taps.

"Holy shit, I'm going to cum!" I scream and he continues with rapid thrusts

"Me too" he says weakly as he looks at me.

I feel like I can see stars as I collapse into his arms, and I feel thick liquid being poured inside me.

My whole body goes limp as I feel him grabbing me with his right arm and slowly withdrawing his cock from inside me, soon being replaced by his fingers that try to keep his liquid inside my body

"I fucking love you" he says "and I would never be ashamed of you"

And it was at that moment that I knew everything had changed.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #writerscommunity #nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #writers on tumblr #smut #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo

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dckweed · 10 months

Note

Can you write a fic about Hangman and his friend from childhood and when she found out she was pregenat, her (former) bf broke up with her? You can make it as angsty or fluffy as you want.

TIA

absolutely love this! i had a couple of ideas and i hope you love the one that i landed on for this prompt! again guys, feel free to send in more, i love new ideas! this is honestly alot longer than i anticipated it to be and im so so so sorry but i got so wrapped up in it for some reason but hi how are you? also, would we want a part two to this maybe? make Jake and Babygirl a series? idk man i could vibe with it. anyway, comment, reblog, send in asks <3

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion and guilt and shame.

disclaimer: I did not add in abortion to make a stance on pro choice, nor did i add it in to make a stand off to pro lifers. Please do not bring the matter of pro choice or pro life into my comments or you will be blocked from my blog. This is a topic that makes me incredibly angry as a woman, abortion may not be something thats for you or that you'll ever find yourself doing, but that doesn't mean that its not an option for other people. Not every person will make the same choices as you, can we please remember and respect that? Everyone has a different stance on this topic and that is okay, but theres no need to argue.

part two

'YOU'RE NOT ALONE, OKAY?' jake seresin.

When Jake had called you last week, he had heard it in your voice immediately, even though you tried so desperately to hide it. The sadness, the fear. Before you had even finished telling him how much you missed him, he had cut you off with a: "What's wrong, babygirl?" Babygirl. He had called you that from the day he'd met you, and it had annoyed you greatly at first but over time it came to be second nature to respond to it and you had stopped rolling your eyes after a year or so. You and Jake had been stuck together like peanut butter and jelly from your very first day together. You were 13 when you had first moved into his hometown, your family had bought the ranch right next to his and his mama had made her happy way over to come say hello, a grumpy and annoyed Jake in tow.

You often laughed at the memory, Jake had come off as he usually did, ego-fueled and jackassy, though you later learned that it was just a front to survive in his big family of all boys, where he just happened to be the youngest and treated like the baby. You had even called him a jackass on that day, and he quickly followed it up. "Babygirl, has anyone ever told you that you're a brat?" Even at 13 he had the playboy names that he'd learned from watching his older brothers. He was appalled that you swung your arm back and popped him one right on the cheek, leaving his eye black for the next two weeks. He was enamored by you immediately and from that moment on was by your side every waking moment of the day.

Relationships had come and gone for both of you, both of you having your hearts broken more than once and seeking the other out for comfort, there had been many a night spent on one of the others living room couch with fuzzy blankets and cake while one of you cried. You and Jake were so bonded that most of your partners took it threateningly, girls he liked enough to bring around his family (including you) took offensively to you almost immediately, and your boyfriends took his presence in your life personally, and this time? Well, this time was no exception.

"..you still there?" You sobbed out a terrible cry that had him sitting up straight on his couch. You felt terrible immediately and tried to reel it all back in, you were calling to congratulate him on the permanent placement after the uranium mission, all of which you had heard details about every single night. "Y/N, what happened?"

"Jake..he left me.." You cry, trying not to snot all over yourself as you looked down at your bathroom counter, panic flooding your tone. It had been two weeks since he'd been gone, and you had been fine because you knew you didn't need him, but you were scared now. Scared for your future, scared to tell Jake about the two positive lines on the two pregnancy tests sitting on your sink, because what if he left you too? "I dont even remember what it was over," Him, always him. "but it just hurts so fucking bad because it's like two fucking years of my life wasted on this goddamn asshole and he went and..just..left."

He had left. Had taken every single one of the things he had kept at your home, and had even gone as far as blocking your number, all because you said you had wanted to go take a trip to see your best friend Jake when he was finished with his detachment, even though you had just seen him two months before. He had called you a whore when you first told him you thought you were pregnant, it hadn't been more than two weeks since you'd last seen Jake and he was absolutely convinced that you two had fucked, even though he had been with you the whole time. You couldn't understand why every guy you dated thought that there was something between you and the man who had always been your best friend, or why his girlfriends treat you the way they did, but you tried not to dwell on it for too long.

"Y/N." Jake sighs, the sounds coming from your end of the phone absolutely tearing him apart. It always tore him apart, the way that you would fret and cry over these..these boys that hadn't ever treat you in the way that you needed to be treated, or let alone loved you in the way that Jake knew you needed to be loved, because he did love you in a way that you would probably never know. He had always been to afraid to tell you, too afraid of it making you uncomfortable enough that you would leave his life. Maybe not immediately, but over time, and that thought scared him even more than telling you how he truly felt because goddamn he couldn't and wouldn't ever imagine a life without his babygirl in it.

Two hours of crying on the phone, of convincing you to calm down and to take your damn vacation like you had planned, because you deserved it, and 14 hours later, Jake had you in his arms, held tightly to his always muscular chest as he basked in the feel of you, the scent of your hair and perfume. You looked a mess, you were a mess he knew, but he didn't care.

"I missed you so much.." You sniffle, pulling away from him. You wipe your eyes as you look up at him, his usual charming smile plastered across his stupidly handsome face, you couldn't help the smile that spread across yours at the sight.

"No tears, babygirl, no tears.." He says, bringing a thumb up to help you wipe your eyes. You lean into his touch, as if that was all the comfort you needed in the world and you watched the way his face softened, you loved that.

"Happy tears, i promise." You chuckle, leaning against him as he lead you to the baggage claim carousel for your flight. Your suitcases were easy to see, he'd seen them a million times before and didn't even need to double check to make sure he was right, he recognized the small stain on the bottom by the wheel that had been his doing. "You don't have to carry my bags Jake, you've already done enough by coming to get me."

"I always pick you up from the airport whenever you visit," He says, looking down at you as if what you said was absolutely insane. He grabbed the cases with ease and started wheeling them away, letting you carry your carry on bag. "Besides, if my mama ever found out i didn't carry a woman's bags for her, she'd drag me out of work by my ear and give me a talking to." He says only half jokingly. Mama Seresin had been a strict woman, but a loving one and had instilled all the southern gentlemen charms in all of her boys, quite proudly she liked to say.

"I know, and i feel like it's alot to ask, I dont mind carrying my own bags, Jake.." You say, following after him. You wore a baggy sweatshirt and some shorts, you knew it was hot in the San Diego area but you weren't wanting to risk Jake asking if you'd gained weight if your normal clothes looked different, you weren't ready to tell him yet.

"And i feel like it's the least i could do, you literally sat on an airplane for four hours just to come see me, you dont need to carry your bags to the truck too.." He says in a way that told you not to argue about it any farther, so you don't.

The trip to his truck isn't too long, he managed to find decent parking not far from the arrivals gates and you had planned your flight for a time when you knew it wouldn't be massively busy, but the drive to his off base apartment felt like it took hours. Jake talked most of the time, making sure the A/C was blowing on you at full blast because you looked sweaty, telling you about his friends and how they couldn't wait to meet the girl he was always talking about, about how he was looking forward to having a permanent position at the TOP GUN academy, even though it meant he couldn't be close to you at home anymore.

You listened the whole way, but your mind was on the little thing in your womb now, growing by the moment. Your mind was on the man who had up and left you as soon as you said it might have been a possibility because he swore you were a whore. Your mind was on your own Mama, who had passed away many years ago, you wished she was here to tell you what to do. You knew you could go to Jake's mama, she had always been like your own in some ways but you also knew that she couldn't keep a secret to herself, Jake would be the first phone call as soon as you were out of earshot and you didn't want him to find out in that way. You didn't want him to find out at all, afraid of what he would say, of disappointing him, you hated that thought more than you hated the thought of your Daddy being disappointed at you.

You had contemplated making an appointment at planned Parenthood, you knew you weren't too far along, it was still a possibility for you, but you couldn't bare the thought of it, as upset as you were. The universe had given you this curveball for a reason, you had to believe that, even if you didn't agree with it. You had to believe that this accident had a purpose.

You hadn't noticed that Jake had pulled into a small parking lot, or that he had even parked the car at all until his hand waved in front of your face, snapping you out of your reverie. "...Earth to Y/N..." You blinked rapidly a few times, taking in a deep breath as you turned to look at him. "You good?"

You smile forcefully, and his eyebrows furrow. "Sorry, i spaced for a minute. It's been a long couple of weeks, my brain wasn't all the way with it.." You say, looking outside the windshield. "Why are we at the beach?" You ask, your eyebrows furrowing now. A sandy strip of beach was in front of the truck, you could see the waves crashing against it and you could make out some people milling about, birds flying over head. If you squinted, you could make out a couple of surfers on the water, waiting for a decent swell to ride in.

"Because i live in the building right over there." Jake says softly, getting the feeling that something other than the breakup was bothering you. You were usually full of chatter, typically, jake couldn't get a word in edgewise when you were around, and he loved that about you, but today? Today it was all him and that worried him.

You glance towards the building to your right, confused. "Oh.." You shake your head and unbuckle your seatbelt, opening the door to his truck to get out when his large hand on your elbow stops you, his fingers wrapping around it and pulling you back towards him. "...Jake?"

He sighs, looking at you with that stern, but probing glance, as if he were looking into your soul. "..Are you sure you're okay?" He asks after a moment of hesitation, he wanted to know what was going on but he didn't want to push it too hard.

You could have cried right then and there, and you almost did as you could feel the tears welling in your eyes, your chin quivering as you tried desperately not to let them fall. You could only hope that he didn't notice. "Yeah," You nod, giving him the best smile that you possibly could, putting your other hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze. "I'm okay Jake, i promise.."

Jake doesn't believe you, not one bit but he knows that he'll figure out whats going on eventually, or you'll break down and tell him. You always did. He nods once, letting go of your arm before taking the keys out of the ignition and hopping out. You follow suit, having to jump down before joining him at the bed of the truck, where he lifts your bags out and sets them down.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, you settle into the guest room that he had made up for you, and you catch up with him on what he hadn't filled you in on over the phone. He made you lunch, and took you for a walk on the beach, letting you lean against him as you enjoyed the smell of the ocean.

Jake couldn't help but wish that he was able to do that with you all the time, hold you while you guys walked on the beach, or make lunch and eat it with you. He loved being with you all the time, and he always had, he just had never realized until it was much too late that it was because he loved you. He didn't like to dwell on it too much though, he didn't like the yearning and the sadness and anger it brought him. There was no need for it when you were with him now, even if only for a little while.

By the time sunset comes around you're starting to turn into the you that he's used to, the happy, goofy babygirl he had always known, and he can't help but think it's because you're happier here with him than you were with your ex, wishful thinking, he knew. But alas, a man could dream, couldn't he?

You were sat on the couch in Jake's living room, watching a game show like you used to when you were kids when you heard his phone ping with a text message. You chuckle as he groans grumpily, half asleep with your legs in his lap, and shifts to reach for his phone on the small table next to the couch.

You watch him roll his eyes and poke his tongue out as he types out a reply to whomever it was, you grin before poking him in the chest with your foot. "What was that eyeroll for?" You ask, half amused and half curious. You always were the nosey type. "Was it Rooster?" He had told you about how rocky their friendship was, but that it was getting better, you knew that Rooster could annoy the hell out of Jake without even trying and you thought it was absolutely hilarious because you knew that you used to do the same thing.

Jake sighs, looking at you with that million dollar smile of his. "If you must know, Babygirl," He starts and you cant help but giggle a little. "It was Phoenix, the squad are all heading to the Hard Deck and they wanted to know if I was coming." He says and you hum at him in response. "I'm telling them no, I'm sure you don't want to go and i don't want to leave you alone."

You think on it for a moment, staring at him before making your mind up. "Lets go." You say, sitting up and swinging your legs off of his lap. You miss the pout that he makes, his eyebrows furrowing at the loss of your touch. "I want to meet your other friends, i bet they could tell me some stories." You say with a giggle, going towards the guest room to change into better clothes.

Jake watches after you and stands with an exaggerated sigh after a moment. "Fine, but I'm only going so they tell you the good stories!" He says and you cackle knowing damn well that they would probably spin you some tales about the man you've known for a good portion of your life, you didn't mind because you could tell them some things that would make them piss themselves in return.

It wasn't long before the two of you are out the door, Jake locking it after you before walking with you to his truck. You were honestly feeling alot better about things with your ex after only being with him for a few hours, Jake always had that affect on you to make things feel better when it felt like the world was tumbling down around you.

You sing along to the country station as Jake drives, the windows down in his truck letting the ocean breeze flow through the cab as you guys go along the coast, and within a few moments you see the lights of the Hard Deck through the windshield and take note of the full parking lot.

"Damn Jake, is it always this busy?" You ask, slightly on edge by the amount of people that were probably in the bar, you put your hand on your tummy subconsciously, which Jake caught out of the corner of his eye as he found a parking space. That struck him as odd, you had never been the socially nervous person before.

That was Jake's first clue. You declining a chilled tequila in favor of water was his second, and honestly it was the only one that he needed to make the assumption. You never turned down tequila, especially after a breakup like this. Eyebrows furrowed in thought as he introduces you to his friends, Jake watches you throughout the night, merely sipping on his beer as he did, keeping an eye on you as moved throughout the bar.

Phoenix and Rooster absolutely loved you, they couldn't believe that you and Jake had been friends for as long as you had, or that you could stand to be around him and his ego. Bob had thought you were his long distance girlfriend from the way that he always talked about you, and the fact that he rarely every called you anything besides Babygirl. You chuckled at the trio, about to tell them that he had never once in your entire friendship called anything other than Babygirl if it wasn't absolutely necessary, when you felt your stomach lurch as Penny brought a plate of seafood around your area of the bar. Quickly, you excuse yourself, just barely making it to the bathroom before the vomit spews out of you.

Jake was hot on your tail, had even followed you into the bathroom to dutifully hold your hair for you, his large hand rubbing your back as you heaved the contents of your stomach into the toilet. "Jesus Y/N.." He says, a serious edge to his voice. He wasn't sure what he was upset about, the fact that you hadn't told him immediately, or that your boyfriend had left you. "How long?" He asks when you stand up, wiping your face with a paper towel he had handed you.

You let out a soft sigh, making your way to the sink where you splash your face with water, hoping that if you delayed the answer he would go away. He catches your eye through the mirror, arms crossed over his chest as he gives you that look of pure concern.

"..Two months, i think.." You finally say and Jake's jaw clenches. Your lip quivers, terrified that he's angry with you as scared tears well up in your eyes. "He..he called me a whore..he thought i slept with you and he called me a whore and he left and he took all of his things and he blocked my number and jake i dont know what to fucking do because this wasn't part of my plan!" You wail in one breath, completely breaking down in the bathroom of the bar.

Jake is almost startled by your outburst, but it quickly turns to anger at the words that left your mouth, at the accusation that your ex had made towards you. Jake knew you were a fiercely loyal person, you wouldn't have ever cheated on him, but he was more than certain that he would have cheated on you, how else could he have called you that so easily?

Jake swallows his anger, noticig your tears coming harder and faster down your face and crosses the small bathroom to pull you into his arms, letting you rest your face on his chest as he holds you, letting you sob all over his shirt. "It's okay, Babygirl.." He says, looking at the sight in the mirror. If there was one thing Jake Seresin knew for certain, it was that he was going to make sure you were cared for, it may not have been his baby but you absolutely weren't on your own in this, he wouldn't let you be. "You're not alone..i promise you.."

#top gun #top gun hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun requests #hangman #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin request #jake hangman seresin

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ahsxual · 4 months

Note

Hi! Your writing is wonderful, and I wanted to wish you the best of luck on your exams in advance 🥰 could you imagine the stoic Sang-woo proposing to his girlfriend? Idk the idea of him being in a relationship and coming to terms with his emotions fascinates me. Thanks!

Sweet Proposal

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2,2k

A/N: Awww thank you, dear anon! I truly appreciate your kind words, it means the world to me 🥺💓 I have to say that I agree with you and I absolutely loved your idea for this request! I hope you enjoy my writing and I wish you the best <33 I wrote this request a long time ago and never posted it idk why, but here goes (my apologies🥺)

You and Sang-woo have been dating a few years now: you met him through his mother, the woman who you visited everytime you passed by her store and who you always bought something fresh to eat. Her products were of great quality, besides the fact that she was the kindest woman you have ever met in your entire life. She treated you like her own daughter/son, and since you lived by yourself in south korea, you really appreciated having someone who you could count on. Whenever you had a bad day, you would tell her and she would help you by giving you the best advices from her life experience, so your relationship was pretty close. Until one day, her son visited her, and that's when you met the love of your life.

"Good morning, miss Cho!" you greeted your second mother as you liked to call her, only for her to turn to you with the biggest smile and bright eyes on her face, as always. However, this time she had company.

"Oh, my sweet Y/N! Come here sweetie, please let me introduce you my wonderful son, Cho Sang-woo!" she seemed so excited, in contrast to her son who seemed pretty serious and uncomfortable with the all situation.

"Hey." he simply said with a low, yet neutral tone, making you realize that he was quite the opposite from his mother: she shined even in the darkest days, while he somehow brings darkness wherever he goes to. But the fact that he had such a hard personality to deal with and understand, instead of pushing you away, only made you even more curious about that mysterious man. Besides the fact that he is incredibly handsome, but that's another story.

"Hey there! I'm L/N Y/N, nice to meet you." you put your hand in front of him so you wouldn't be just standing there looking awkwardly at each other. He looked at it for a second, before taking it and shaking it gently, like he was afraid to break your way smaller hand.

"I'm so happy you finally met my son! I'm sure you two will get along just perfectly!" her joy was contagious, yet her own son didn't seem to let his mother's charm get him. You heard her talking about her amazing son so many times, saying how he was a kind man, and extremely intelligent and responsible. Yet, here he is, looking like his life was a complete chaos.

"Yeah, I'm sure we will." you answered shyly, only for him to look at you with a surprised expression. You simply smiled at him, making him blush slightly at your cuteness.

Now you are in the bed with your soulmate by your side, watching him sleep peacefully: who would have known you two would get here? Together?? You didn't know the right answer for that as well, but the truth is that life can really surprise you.

You were Sang-woo’s first love: the only person who stood with him no matter how many problems he had, both professionally and psychologically. You would never give up on him, and that's what made him realize you were the love of his life, the soulmate he was unconsciously looking for so desperately. No one would ever guessed, but one of Sang-woo’s main goals in his life is creating a family who loved and supported him until the end, to feel the happiness and comfort of waking up every day next to his significant other. However, before meeting you, his problem was that he never had the patience or motivation to find love or to continue to please his possible partner until they fell for him. No, he wanted to focus on his professional career first, the rest just being mere details. What made him fall for you, was your dedication to be with him and build a promising life by his side, supporting him and helping him whenever he needed: you were also the first and only person who he told about his fears, insecurities and feelings about certain topics, but only after a few, long months of building trust and courage. And you did the same: you considered him your best friend, because he always helped you with the most racional advices, which were the best in your opinion.

After a few minutes of analyzing lovingly every feature that you knew so well of your loved one, you noticed him moving slightly and groaning from waking up from his precious sleep.

"Good morning, tough guy." you joked, only to receive a confused expression from him just before he rolled his reddish eyes and laugh at the nickname.

"Good morning, babe." his voice was so deep that it made you have inappropriate thoughts, however you knew he was too tired for it right now. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I actually did. As for you, I think I don't even have to ask." you laughed at his still sleepy state, before putting your legs over him and hug his long torso. He pulled you closer, closing the space that separated your hungry lips before kissing you slowly, yet with the perfect amount of passion and love.

"Yeah, I really needed to rest my mind and body from yesterday." you shyly laughed at him before hitting his arm when he reminded you from your passionate love session from the night before.

"You silly!" the moment you called him that, he rolled you over so he could be on top.

"Call me that again and see what happens." he warned you with a serious face, yet you knew him better. He was obviously messing with you, and you would be lying if you said you didn't like his demanding behavior.

"Can you join me in the shower, babe? Please?" you decided to change the subject, giving him the pleading look that you knew he couldn't resist.

"Yeah, sure." he smiled before giving you a quick kiss on the lips. "Just wait for me, I'll be right back."

"Ok, I'll wait for you." you gave him a last peck on his lips, before making your way to the bathroom, unconscious of what was coming for you.

That day your boyfriend invited you to dinner at a fancy restaurant, so you thought it would be a simple date like the many you've had before. But this time, he had promising plans for you and your future together, something you weren't expecting to happen so soon. It was already 7:30 pm, so he called you to hurry so you could be on time at the restaurant.

"I'm coming!" you warned your handsome boyfriend, before you appeared in front of him dressing your favorite date outfit that he bought you a few days ago.

"You look gorgeous, sweetheart." his eyes were full of love, admiration and pride for you, making your heart melt with happiness. You felt so loved at that moment... you still couldn't believe you were dating that man.

"Thank you, love. Let's go." you thanked him, before leaving your house and walk to get into his expensive black car.

You and Sang-woo arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes earlier, so you took your time to sit at your reserved table. The restaurant was outstanding: everyone was dressed nicely and the environment was peaceful and romantic; it was an expensive and well known restaurant from your city, which made you feel important. You also felt really happy to know that your boyfriend took you on a date at a very welcoming and beautiful place: it meant that he really loved you and makes a real effort to build up your relationship by changing your routine from time to time, which was healthy for both of you.

A few hours passed and you talked about everything and anything: your plans for your future together, funny stories that happened in your childhood that you didn't know about, how work was going and who are the people you like or dislike... it was a really nice, yet nostalgic and interesting conversation. After that, he insisted to pay your dinner. You felt bad, so he promised next time you could pay, which you knew he was lying.

When you left the restaurant, hand in hand, he told you that his plans for that night weren't done yet.

"I need you to do something for me, honey." your future husband said as soon as you entered the car. You looked at him suspiciously, waiting for whatever was coming. "Close your eyes." he simply said.

"What? Why would you-"

"Just trust me, ok? It's not like I'll kidnap you or something." he made sure to use his sarcasm to relax you a little bit, indirectly telling you that he wasn't going to do anything bad.

"I wouldn't mind if you did so." your sassy comment made him laugh quietly, before you closed your eyes and heard his car running.

Minutes passed and you were starting to get bored with having your eyes closed for so long. At least his strong grip on your inner thigh kept you entertained during the car trip. Suddenly, you felt the car stop slowly, and that's when you realized you had finally arrived at your destination. You were about to open your eyes, when you felt a smack on your thigh.

"Ah! I didn't say you could open your eyes already, did I?" his demanding tone made you internally scream and blush hard, but you needed to remain calm to not lead things to another way, since you didn't want to ruin the plans he made for you.

He helped you getting out of the car, before putting his hand on your waist to guide you to the place where he would make the big proposal.

"Open your eyes, love." he whispered into your ear. The moment you opened your eyes, tears instantly made their way to your warm cheeks: you could watch and admire each star on the sky, shining in your direction; it was full moon night, which made you think that Sang-woo chose this specific night for that reason; in front of you, you could also see and hear the calm and relaxing dark-blue sea moving at a slow and therapeutical pace. It was the most romantic moment you ever had and even imagined. You were too focus on the ocean and the brilliant stars above you, that you didn't even notice what was written on the sand: "Will you marry me, Y/N?" was written in huge and well marked letters. This made your heart beat at an incredibly fast pace and your vision to go blurry due to the emotional warm tears that wanted to escape from your eyes.

"Baby, what's all of thi-" when you turned around in hope that the man of your life would explain what was happening at that moment, even tho you knew already, you saw him kneeling instead, looking at you nervously with a small black box on his hands which contained a shining ring inside.

"L/n Y/n, I know I'm not the best lover sometimes due to my emotionless personality, however you liberate a more loving, caring and passionate side of me that I never knew I could have until I met you. I never thought I could be so in love with someone... and to be honest, I didn't even know what was love before I kissed you for the first time. I'm sorry for all the times I made you upset, but I promise I'll be a better person for you. So... will you marry me, my love?" you never saw your boyfriend being so open with his feelings, not even towards you, so you knew this was extremely hard for him and that all what he was saying was the pure truth. Also for the first time you noticed Sang-woo cry in front of you, even though he remained with a neutral facial expression.

Deep inside, you knew he feels a lot, he just used this "mask" to hide his vulnerability and pretend he is emotionless. But with you, he doesn't feel the need to pretend to be strong all the time. And that's when he realized it was you who he was going to marry and spend the rest of his life with.

You couldn't help but cry in front of him, his action caughting you by surprise, in a good sense.

"Of course my love, of course I will marry you!! There is nothing I desire more than to have you as my husband." he smiled until his cheeks started to get sore: this moment was unique and special for both of you. You always made him forget any pain he might feel. He quickly stood up and picked up into his arms, spinning you over and over again until you both felt almost dizzy.

That night was unforgettable for both of you, and now that you had a wedding ring on your finger, you couldn't think about anything else than stepping onto the altar and marry the man of your dreams.

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