#and they kept saying how “deceptive” it is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daycourtofficial · 15 days

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Deceptive Domestication

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 7.7k | Warnings: sexism, misogyny

Summary: The two of you have to pretend to be a married couple for a mission. Can you live with this false reality? Or will your feelings for Azriel eat you alive when it’s over?

Author’s note: started making it, had a breakdown, bon apetit

“Angel, where are you?”

Azriel’s deep voice moves on the wind, finding you at the back of your cottage. You twist the new ring adorning your fourth finger, the skin beneath it showing no tan lines, “I’m back here, just one second!”

Azriel laughs, his voice sweet and full of honey, “the wife’s an avid gardener. When we were first considering moving here, she insisted we check the soil to make sure she would be able to have her prized blackberries.”

You appear from the side of the house, wiping your hands on the apron around your dress. Azriel’s arm reaches around you, clasping you on your shoulder as you get next to him.

“He’s right, I love my blackberries greatly,” you say, reaching out to shake hands with your new neighbors. They lived in the house closest to yours, a red thatched roof adorning the black building. Delicious smells came from it, and judging by the smoke from the chimney, they were likely preparing dinner when they saw you two.

“We just wanted to come by and meet the two of you, we saw you come in last night and wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Arben,” the male points to himself, “and this is my wife, Alija.”

You nod to both of them - they looked to be a good bit older than you and Azriel, wrinkles adorning their tanned faces. “Thank you, this used to be my Uncle Sal’s home. Since he passed away recently, he left the home to us and we wanted to leave our home village.”

“I’m so sorry about Sal, sweetheart,” he says, a sympathetic look in his eye, “he was a nice male, talked about you all of the time. Alija has to finish dinner, but we’ll see the two of you around, yeah?”

You press your lips into a firm smile, nodding before pressing into Azriel’s side and turning back to the house. His arm on your back guides you to the door of your new home, his touch a familiar warmth amidst all of the new. Once you cross the threshold, shutting the door behind yourselves, Azriel’s hand falls from your back and he immediately puts distance between you two, walking towards the bedroom he was staying in. His smile drops, the air in the room frigid. Rhys’s words clang through you, a shock to your senses.

Go to this village as a married couple. I’m unsure how long it will take.

You jolted as Azriel slammed the door behind him. Sighing, you move to your own room, taking in the bags left to unpack. You had taken great care to pack enough to last you as the season changes. The two of you were here indefinitely, marooned in a quaint village of about forty-three people.

Move in, become friends with the neighbors, find out what you can.

There was a circle of villages in the western part of the Night Court where females kept disappearing - six had gone missing in the last month. The villagers were not speaking to outsiders, but Rhysand thought a long term mission might allow the spies to get close enough to get some questions answered.

So he decided on you and Azriel.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

It had been strange seeing Azriel play this version of a spy, even if it had only been a day. You were so used to him lurking in the shadows, it felt so strange to watch him play the part of a doting husband, and to do it well. Introducing you to the neighbors and random villagers, a hand kept on your skin at all times - on your lower back, your waist, your shoulders. It was so easy to get swept up in the illusion you two were selling - even you were convinced you were newlyweds, moving for a fresh start.

Until he slammed his door, reminding you it was all fake, a farse for information.

Things between you and Azriel have always been easy. You two were the best of friends, most of your free time being spent with him since joining the Inner Circle two years ago. The two of you spent countless nights sitting together when sleep wouldn’t find you, you two had even developed a code - open bedroom doors at night were a silent invitation for the other to come in, spending most nights in each other’s rooms, wrapped up in sheets that smelled of the two of you.

All of that ended very suddenly a few months ago. Suddenly his door was always closed to you, your own cracked every night. A call to him, begging him to acknowledge you.

You started keeping your door closed a month ago. It didn’t feel right, shutting him out, but clearly you had done something wrong. Your entrance into a room would cause him to leave immediately, changes in his training schedule to avoid you, abruptly turning around when he saw you.

It was all pissing you off.

The rest of the Inner Circle were just as clueless as you were as to what happened to cause Azriel’s sudden distance. Cassian tried to interfere - making plans with both of you for dinner at a restaurant and ditching, trying to force you two to spend time together.

Azriel just left once he caught sight of you.

That was your tipping point. You stopped going to training, you pulled back from family dinners. They were his family first, and you wanted to give him whatever space he needed. Everyone protested, telling you it was his problem, and in Cassian’s words “if he’s going to be a jackass, I don’t want him around anyway.”

Still, you retreated, hardly seeing much of the family you had forged over the past few years. No matter how much it hurts you to do so.

Once you began accepting this new Azriel-less reality, Rhys had called you into his office. The high lord looked almost conflicted, your entire family aware that something weird was happening between you and Azriel. None of them dared to ask Azriel, his darkened mood making it incredibly easy to anger him, and anytime they asked you they were met with a shrug and a soft, “I don’t know.”

All of them had been scratching their heads, desperate for an explanation for the sudden iciness between you two. It had been weeks of this, and everyone missed seeing the two of you exchanging whispers in the corner or watching Azriel’s shadows wind through your hair.

Which was why Rhysand decided to insert himself into the situation. He called you into his office, and after asking you to take a seat, he began asking after your week. Your eyebrows knitted, confused about the formality of it all, when you realized you haven’t actually seen Rhysand in almost a month.

You had taken up residence in the House of Wind - since you were a scholar it lended easy access to your work, and whenever you wanted to leave, you asked Azriel to ferry you around. You tried to remember the last time you saw anyone in the inner circle that wasn't Cassian or Nesta, and it was when Cassian offered to fly you into town to get lunch with Feyre three weeks ago.

You’re not certain how to tell Rhysand the past few weeks had been filled with silence, whatever happened between you and the shadowsinger led you to avoid Cassian and Nesta, avoid training, avoid anything that wasn’t being buried in your work in the library.

You look into violet eyes, and you check your mental shields because he’s looking at you as if he already knows how sad this whole situation has made you.

You take a deep breath, shrugging. “Time is passing, I suppose.”

Rhys’s face falls a bit at just how dejected you sounded. It wasn’t supposed to be like this - they all knew there was something between you and Azriel, they all saw how you two gravitated towards each other. Neither of you would open up about whatever it was that shifted things so quickly and easily and it was pissing all of them off.

“I need your help with something.”

It was the best plan they could come up with to try to salvage things.

You woke up early the next morning, determined to tend to the garden before the sun reached its peak in the sky. You had plans later in the afternoon to meet with a few of the women of the village, but you had to get to working on this garden. There was no time table on this mission, and the two of you only had food stores to last you a few months.

If you were to be stuck in this purgatory that long, you needed new food to replenish whatever you use.

Your story to tell the villagers was that the two of you were quite young from the other end of Illyria. The two of you were extraordinarily lucky that one of the older fae males in this village happened to pass away a few weeks ago, allowing the two of you an easy in. You merely reviewed some family records, and were posing as his beloved niece, here to lead a new life with her husband.

You tended to the garden behind the house - the weeds had grown wildly in the previous owner’s absence. Your ‘uncle's absence, that is.

You spent all morning pulling weeds, making quite an improvement to the garden before you decided to go in and make yourself lunch. You came in, rinsing the dirt from your fingers, the water feeling nice against some of the minor cuts you acquired outside. After drying off, you pulled out a loaf of bread, slicing the bread to prepare some sandwiches.

You hummed to yourself, trying to fill the silence of the house. It wasn’t large - a quaint two bedroom house with two bathrooms, a nice little kitchen, and a sitting room. You were a bit surprised at how well the interior of the house had been maintained by your ‘uncle’.

Azriel was headed with the rest of the males to the war camp, spending his day training as a lesser ranked Illyrian. He was glamoured to look enough not like himself to the other Illyrians that they wouldn’t think anything of him. You had also glamoured some of Azriel’s siphons, only allowing one on his chest to remain. He was not happy about it, not wanting to seem so much weaker than he truly was. He wouldn’t listen to any of your points about it, but Rhys eventually convinced him to allow your glamour to cover six of his siphons because “it’s quite obvious who you are”.

Azriel’s refusal to listen to even your opinions on the mission was grating. You wanted to get to know the local females, and Rhys agreed with you, but Azriel kept arguing that ‘it wasn’t safe’.

Stupid Illyrians and their stupid pigheadedness, you suppose. If you’re not supposed to speak with the other females, why were you even here?

You knew this mission would be difficult for Azriel - his hatred for his own people fueling centuries of anger and resentment. You thought being trapped here was an appropriate punishment for how he had iced you out of his life.

You had just finished making your sandwich when there was a knock at the door. You brushed your hands down your dress, glamouring wings back to life behind you, breathing deeply before you answered the door.

An Illyrian woman stood in your doorway, her dark curls slightly hiding her tanned face that was turned down. She was taller and broader than you, but still small for an Illyrian. Her demeanor told you they treated her that way as well. Her wings were tucked in tight behind her and her shoulders shook lightly before you.

Her voice was weak as she told you, “we go every day, bringing lunch to the males, if you wish to accompany us.”

Wish.

You knew the reality of coming here - you knew they would give a few days of grace to settle in, set up your garden, bereave your uncle before they assigned you to a chore rotation. In communities like this one, everyone had to pull their weight.

It was just astonishing how ‘pulling your own weight’ made the females seem two to three times heavier than the males.

You nod your head to the female, closing the door behind you as you meet her outside. You had no idea where the war camp was, knowing it mustn’t be too far from the village. You vaguely remember Azriel and Rhys discussing the three villages that filtered into the camp, how all three were short walks from the villages.

Dirt crunches beneath your boots as you walk alongside the female, her deep brown eyes downcast towards the ground, shoulders hunched to make herself as small as possible as you walk. “What’s your name?” You ask, your voice causing her to flinch. Her eyes were wide as they looked at you, shock at being addressed you presumed. It was astonishing how awfully they must treat her, because her face resembled a wounded dog’s.

“Kaltrina.” Her words are mumbled, and you have to strain your ears a little to hear her.

“Kaltrina - it’s nice to meet you. Um, are you married?”

Not your usual first question, but around these parts marriage was as good as social standing. Also any unwed women over the age of 24 were considered ‘unwanted’ or ‘untameable’. This village was harsh on women - even by Illyrian standards. The males of this village made Devlon look forward and free-thinking.

“No, not married. I live with my brother, Dardan.”

Her tone didn’t suggest anything about him, but you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. She offers you a smile and a soft nod, “is your husband nice?”

You offer the same soft nod before you hear her say, “he’s quite good looking, too.”

You pause, trying to remember everything Cassian and Rhysand had told you about Illyrians to prepare for this - they told you males were incredibly territorial, treating their wives more like trophies and laborers rather than spouses. A male would take this as a compliment - one mention of a good-looking wife would be something to boast about, mentioning it more than once would be an offense.

But how did the females treat their husbands, how did they speak to each other about them? It was the biggest gap in your knowledge, but you suppose you can explain away any discrepancies on how far away the two of you came from.

“Yes, he’s quite pretty.”

She giggles at your words, and you feel a swell of pride at getting it right. She walks next to you, standing a little straighter for the rest of the walk.

The two of you made it to the war camp, joining the other females to distribute food to the males. The males look at you like you’re not much more than a piece of meat or some dirt on their boots, but your eyes scanned the crowd for Azriel, not finding him the entire time you’re there.

You do get a chance to speak with a few of the females as you all head back to the village, carrying leftover food with you. Most of them seem to welcome you - suggesting what crops grow best in the area, telling you to reach out if you need any help with anything.

The other females head off at the fork in the road, telling you and Kaltrina they would see you the next day. You breathe deeply, looking to Kaltrina once more. She hardly spoke once the two of you had met up with the other females at the war camp, keeping her distance from them the entire time.

“How’s your brother?” You ask, the innocent question causing Kaltrina to flinch.

“He’s a fine male.”

Her answer feels so dry, so rehearsed. You don’t press the issue, changing topics instead. “How will you spend the rest of the afternoon?”

“Chores.”

You listen to the birds singing around the both of you, their song a beautiful melody across the skies. You eventually pass a house similar to your own, but a bit smaller, the roof not well cared for. Kaltrina gives you a small wave before turning down the path to her house, disappearing behind the door.

You kept walking towards your own house, but you did see her appear in the window briefly, watching you walk down the road. It made the hairs on your neck stand up, but you quickly looked forward again, making your way back to the house, determined to finish unpacking this afternoon.

You had finished unpacking by the time you heard the door open, Azriel traipsing through the house.

“Hello my loving husb-“

Your sarcastic words die as you turn to see his face, a cut on his lip and a black eye. He shakes his head, trying to tell you it’s nothing, and he starts moving to just head to his room, but you’re not having it.

“We have some bandages in the bathroom.” Your words don’t have a command in them, but he heads towards the bathroom. You pick up a bottle of alcohol, dabbing some on a rag. You motion for him to sit on the edge of the tub, and he goes.

You’re a few inches from his face, the closest you’ve been in months. His scent was so comforting, you just wanted to wrap yourself in it and stay for a while. He stays silent, his face a blank slate you could slap any emotion to.

His shadows have been having fun whizzing around the house. He had told them they had to stay completely hidden if they were to come to the war camp with him, otherwise they had to stay in the house or go off wherever they wanted. They didn’t like the options, but most of them stayed with him, tucked into his boots, his pants, the hilt of his sword. Now that he was back, they scattered across the house, energetic wisps of darkness moving through the house, through your hair, against your skin.

“What happened?”

He huffed, his fingers dancing on his thighs in irritation. “I’m a new male, they’re just seeing if I can take it.”

You nod, and from the irritation in his voice, you know he’s shutting you back out. You hold the alcohol covered rag up to his lip, cleaning the blood from his face. He had healed a good bit since he received the beating, and you notice his knuckles are bloody.

Hopefully he put up a good enough fight.

“I went with some of the women to the war camp to distribute food.”

His eyes snap to yours, his wings rustling behind him. His eyes were dark, a look to them you’ve never seen directed at you. He reaches his hand up to your wrist, his grip tight but not uncomfortable.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

You’re taken aback by his tone - even if your relationship was tenuous, he never took such an aggressive tone with you. In all your years of friendship, the most strain in his voice you had heard directed at you was when you were free climbing up the cabinets of the kitchen to get to the top shelf for some cookies.

“Because Rhys thinks-”

“I don’t give a damn what Rhys thinks when it comes to you, I said it was a bad idea and to stay away from them.”

“They’re battered females, Azriel! The males treat them like dirt! And their friends and sisters and mothers have gone missing. I can help them, I know I can - that’s why we’re here!”

His hand tensed around you before he pulled his hand away from you. He looks away from you, his harsh breathing echoing through the small bathroom.

“You’ll only get yourself hurt by talking to them.”

He snatched the rag from your hand, pushing past you out the bathroom and into his room, slamming the door on your once again. You want to scream or stomp your feet at how ridiculous he was being.

“I’m not a kid you can boss around, Azriel.”

His silence didn’t make you so certain about that.

The next week goes by much like your first full day in the village - you wake up after Azriel’s gone, tend to the house (your ‘uncle’ left it in semi-decent shape, but it did need a few repairs), head with Kaltrina to the war camp to feed the males (where you were even able to meet Kaltrina’s brother and several of the female’s husbands), and spend your afternoon preparing dinner for the two of you.

You’re not on speaking terms with Azriel after his outburst while you cleaned him up - every day he’s returned with some minor cut and scrape, and all you do is point to the alcohol and provide him with fresh rags. You won’t clean him up yourself, you’re too pissed at him for that, but you still urge him to do it himself

You still care, despite it all.

Despite the ice between you and Azriel, the females of the village began opening up to you, accepting you as one of their own. You join them every day to serve lunches to the males, and several of them even invited you to their homes to help teach you how to cook with the regional vegetables.

“Your husband’s too skinny,” one said, “I’ll teach you how to cook.”

You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but you took it for what it was - an offering. You spent the afternoon with her, learning how to smoke pig ‘the correct way’. She had told you her name was Bora, she and her husband have lived in this village for several centuries, and she has had many, many smoked pigs.

“None compare to my family recipe.”

She was quite intimidating, and you could tell she took shit from no one, not even her husband. You were touched that she would share her family recipe with you so readily, thinking perhaps she took a special interest in you until another female stopped by and, after telling her Bora was teaching you her family recipe, she told you, “it’s how she inaugurates new females to the village’.

You were less touched and your ego deflated a bit, but you were still grateful she would spend so much time with you. The afternoon flew by, time not registering as you helped Bora peel her vegetables while the pork cooked.

You looked up, noting the dark sky through the window, dropping the zucchini. “Oh no,” you mutter, running out of the house to the road, eyes wide to find Azriel running up the road, blades drawn. His siphon was glowing in the dark, it’s cobalt blue blazing with intensity.

He was frantic, and you could have sworn you saw his shadows frantically zipping around him, moving in and out of houses. His body visibly relaxes as he spots you, rushing towards you. His arms wrap around you, crushing you into an embrace. His breathing is ragged, “I thought- I thought- you-”

His words come out choppy, but he pulls back, his hands on your face. He’s breathing hard, trying to string words together. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement.

“Is everything alright?”

Bora’s voice startles Az, and one of his shadows whips into a defensive position before you shoo it away. He quickly collects himself, moving one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you to his chest.

“Sorry, I got worried when I got home and my wife wasn’t there.”

He pats your hair, his hands combing through them softly. “Just need her to be safe, s’all.”

Bora nods, perhaps more understanding than she should be of Azriel’s concern. “Ah, to be newly married again. She was safe,” she turns away before adding, “she’s always safe here with Bora.”

The older female waddles back inside for a moment before coming back out to the two of you, the tray of pork and vegetables on it. “Here’s dinner tonight - Bora’s family recipe.” She winks at you, and the two of you politely thank her before heading back to your house. You carried the tray, but Azriel kept both of his hands on you the entire walk back.

The walk back is mostly quiet, Azriel’s heartbeat slowing as the adrenaline leaves his body. You swivel your head around, noticing no one out in the village at this hour.

“Why were you being so nice and touchy to me out there and anytime we see the neighbors?” Your words come out barely more than a whisper, but you knew he heard them. “The men in this village hardly view their wives as more than livestock, it might be more suspicious for you to be so nice to me.”

He turned, just enough for you to see the side of his face, to watch his mouth as he said, “I could never do that to you.”

You spent the rest of the walk in silence, spending the entire time dissecting the way he said “you”.

Your house with Azriel is still quiet, the two of you living separate lives behind the oak door. Sleeping apart, eating dinner in different rooms. You two only spoke when you were outside of the house.

A few days after cooking with Bora, you and Kaltrina were headed back to the village from the camps for lunch when she offered to help you make dinner.

“I want to say thanks, for being my friend.”

Her words make you feel terrible over how strange you had found her. Maybe she was just awkward. You weren’t sure, but you knew you’d be safe inside your own home, so you agreed to let her stay.

The two of you prepare dinner, Kaltrina seeming a bit nervous as she skitters about your kitchen. You make idle small talk, but the air in the room seems so off you can’t put your finger on it.

“What will your brother be doing for dinner tonight?”

She looks a bit downcast as she tells you, “he has plans tonight, he’s eating at his friend’s house.”

Her tone tells you not to ask anymore, and you don’t press the issue any further.

The two of you eat in silence, Kaltrina’s eyes moving around your house, taking in every detail. She excuses herself to the bathroom, and you show her where it is.

In Kaltrina’s absence, Azriel makes his way through the front door, his shadows beginning to spread throughout the house in contentment. You quickly shake your head at the tiny wisps that come to you, sending them back to Azriel. You point towards the bathroom, jerking your head at the noises from behind the door trying to tell him someone was here.

The water runs, and Azriel quickly moves across the room, his arms circling your waist. Your eyebrows pinch, but you quickly relax them as Kaltrina leaves the bathroom. Her steps halt at seeing Azriel, her eyes wide at his sudden appearance.

“Kaltrina, this is my husband. Valon, this is my friend, Kaltrina.”

He nods to her before squeezing your waist and giving a swift kiss to your temple. Kaltrina’s eyes linger on the display of affection, not breaking contact even moments later. Azriel rubs your back, eyes fond as he looks to you, “I’m going to head to bed, take your time with your friend, but don’t leave me waiting too long.”

Was that a signal? You two slept in separate rooms - what did his words mean? You lean up, kissing his cheek before rubbing at his jaw and nodding. He turns his attention towards Kaltrina, “it was nice meeting you Kaltrina, my wife is quite fond of you. Have a good night.”

Her mouth is slightly ajar, her cheeks a harsh shade of red as she squeaks, “good night.”

Azriel nods at her and he slips into your bedroom, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You turn back to Kaltrina, her eyes lingering on the door to your bedroom, and you could almost feel the yearning radiating from her.

“Come on, we should clean up a bit.” The two of you head into the kitchen, cleaning and scraping the dirty dishes from earlier. You two work in silence, the only sounds in the room are the scrubbing of pots.

“Your husband seems quite nice.”

Her voice is full of want and yearning. You stop cleaning pots before you, Kaltrina’s eyes fixed on you until you look. She turns her eyes away, looking back to the pots.

“Yes, he is very kind.”

“He’s unlike any of the males around here.”

This conversation felt a bit dangerous. Azriel said it was fine, that he couldn’t treat you the way any of these males treat their wives - like servants, like cattle, like nothing. But you knew the females of the village would notice how he treated you, if they haven’t already. You start to wonder if they had noticed, discussing the odd outsiders, figuring the two of you out, getting you-

“He’s very good-looking.”

Kaltrina’s voice startles you, and you look to find her not even looking at you, gazing off to some point on the wall. Had she meant to say that out loud? The two of you finish up cleaning, although it is mostly you doing the work, Kaltrina’s gaze is lost somewhere on your kitchen wall. You quickly escort her out, wishing her a good night. You offer to walk her home, but she declines, saying she’ll be fine on her own.

You close the door behind her, taking a deep breath. Azriel was in your room - your room - the one with the unmade bed, clothes haphazard around the space. You two used to frequent each other’s private chambers, but now you can’t recall the last time he laid in your bed, perused the books on your shelves, or sat in the chair in the corner of your room at the House of Wind.

You push open the door to find him pacing in front of your bed, his shadows lounging lazily on your bed. You nod to him, picking at your fingernails.

“I think it’s Kaltrina. I think she’s the one doing this.”

“Kaltrina?” His voice is full of surprise and misunderstanding. “You think Kaltrina, that little thing is behind all of this?”

“Yes! I just.. Don’t know why.. The way she talks about you…”

“We can’t go off of silly little feelings when convicting someone of a crime, you know.” He stands in front of you, his wings blocking the light from the candles, casting shadows across his face.

“I’m well aware-”

“You have to think - where would she keep them? How could she overpower so many Illyrian women? And besides, why does it matter what she thinks of me?”

Your anger was bubbling to the surface, his condescending tone leading you to yell out, “what the fuck is your problem, Azriel?”

He looks at you, turning away quickly while muttering, “we are not doing this here.” His shadows are ever so slightly trying to push him back towards you, but he ignores their attempts, plowing through them to your kitchen.

“No, I think we are doing this right here, right now. I’ve let too much shit go by and I can’t keep acting like everything’s okay anymore.” You take in a shaky breath. “I’m tired of pretending. Just tell me whatever it was that I did that made you hate me and we can move on!”

“No.”

His curt reply annoys you even more, and you’re directly in front of him poking his chest.

“Just tell me what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s clearly not the case.”

He groans in frustration, running a hand down his face, but you are unrelenting in your pursuit for the truth.

“We were friends, you used to like spending time with me. I don’t know what happened that made you hate me-”

“I don’t hate you.”

You laugh, “well you could have fooled me. For months everyone’s been asking me what happened between us, and I have no clue! It’s like you woke up one day and decided we couldn’t be friends anymore!”

“That’s not what happened-”

“Oh, it’s not? So you were pretending to be my friend while you secretly hated me before cutting me off one day?”

“I HAD TO.”

His eyes were wide with an almost feral-like look to them. He looked almost more beast than fae.

“I had to. Those fae that were trafficking females and males, they… “ His hand shakes as he curls and uncurls it, his scarred fingers twitching with the motion. “One of my spies found your name in one of their notebooks, reported it to me immediately.”

His ferocity is turned on you, hazel eyes looking into your own, as if he was searching through your soul. “Don’t you get it? They know you, they know who you are.” His voice raised an octave, squeaking, “because of me.”

“So, what? Because someone knew that I was important to you, you cut me off?”

“No it wasn’t-“

“Oh, no, was it that someone pointed out to you that I was important to you and you didn’t like that?” Your voice was raising, getting louder, but you couldn’t care.

“That’s not-“

“I’m a big girl, Az, I deserve to know everything before making decisions. I don’t deserve my decisions to be taken from me.”

“Will you let me speak?”

His shadows were covering the windows, the doors, the walls. His chest was heaving as he tried to get the words out, tried to make you see.

“I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“So instead of explaining this to me, you cut me off like I meant nothing to you? Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Why couldn’t you tell me-”

“You would talk me out of it! Convince me it was in my head. I needed you to be safe, for cauldron’s sake!”

You sniffle, eyes catching on the door. “I have a lot to think about,” is all you say before storming out, closing the door behind you. You walk from the house, your boots sinking into the grass at your feet as you walk aimlessly around the village. Your thoughts whirled and swirled of Azriel’s words, your hands pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Hey, there.”

You whip around, fist raised, to find Dardan looking back at you. You quickly drop your fist - he could still tell the others you showed defiance towards him and you’d be in a lot of trouble.

“Oh, hey, Dardan, right? I must not have heard you. How are you tonight?”

You try to make your voice sound as pleasant as possible, as feminine as possible.

“Just taking an afternoon stroll,” he muses, “care to join me?”

You look around, noticing you’re much further from the village than you intended. Even though you were a married female to the rest of the village, it was still disrespectful towards your husband to be seen on the outskirts of town with an unmarried male.

“Um,” you start turning around, your gut trying to tell you this was wrong, wrong, wrong. “Actually, I should get back to my husband. I need to start working on dinner soon.”

You turned your head just in time for something hard and metal to make contact with it, the last thing in your vision was the ground before complete darkness.

Your head was killing you, your neck at an unnatural angle as you opened your eyes. The room was dark, but still too bright for the pounding of your head. You take a deep breath, trying to note your surroundings.

Your hands were bound behind you, some fabric you should be able to easily pull apart. You were on the ground, some dirt beneath your body as you laid on the cold ground. You began tugging on the fabric, trying to maneuver your hands to slip through the knot.

“Tug all you want, we got a talented witch in these parts.”

Your body goes cold at the voice.

Dardan.

Fuck.

You want to slam your head on something, but there’s nothing. Your breathing speeds up, your mind moving through all your interactions with Dardan.

You thought he was nice. He had been amicable to you at the war camp, you barely even thought of him during this mission. You thought it was Kaltrina. How could you have gotten things so wrong?

He smiles as he watches your brain try to figure things out. His smugness was a new look for Lee - one that made him look very unattractive. “We knew one of Rhysand’s dogs was bound to show up at some point, just didn’t think they’d bring a pretty bitch like you with ‘em. Color me surprised when my little sister brought you around.”

You snap at his words, “bitches bite.”

He goes by to sharpen whatever knife he was wielding before replying. “We got big plans.”

Dardan wouldn’t say more than that, continuing to sharpen his blade before inspecting it. Once it was to his satisfaction, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you from the ground. You scramble, trying to get your feet on the ground, kicking at the dirt he was dragging you across to gain some footing. His pull on your hair was unrelenting, even as your arms flailed back trying to hit him.

Eventually you’re able to get your feet beneath you, trying to keep up with his steps. He opens the doors to the structure you were kept in, the light of dusk surprising you. There was no way to tell time in that barn.

“It’s almost sunset, girl.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, trying to take a big inhale so you can scream. The sound was piercing - a loud screech coming from you. Dardan just laughed. “Screech all you want, no one’s around for miles.”

Rhys’s words echo in your mind.

Stay close to Azriel.

A warning you had forgotten when you stormed off. Dardan’s tight grip brings you towards a clearing full of other Illyrians from the village you had been staying in and several of the nearby villages. You’re about to call, to beg them for help, when you notice six of the males are each dragging a female in some way towards the center of the clearing. You can’t see over the wings and heads in front of you, but the crowd parts for your eyes to land on a stone altar with ancient languages carved into it.

The crowd gave enough space for the six Illyrians to stand in a circle around the altar, each one cradling a woman by their neck with a blade pressed to it. You start fighting back against Dardan, trying to scratch him, hit him, but he throws you towards the altar where two winged males stand, catching you in their arms easily. You throw out your hand, making contact with one of their jaws, a soft “bitch” hissed at you.

You throw your bound hands into the other one’s gut, but the first one grabs your elbow, twisting harshly. You struggle in the hold, winding your head back to headbutt him, but the other one grabs your head, holding it in place. You start kicking your legs out, hoping for any kind of contact, but a male from the crowd comes up and catches your ankles.

The three males hold onto you, moving you on top of the altar. Your movements do nothing to stop them as they clamp down your feet, moving towards your hands, shackling them to the altar as well. Your pleas to be let go fell on deaf ears.

You turn your head to the left, two of the females coming into your view. Their wings twitched as their captors held them, not much fight in them. You yell to them, begging for them to fight back against the males at their backs. Tears stream down the side of your face, leaking into your ears as you watch their complacency, what they’ve been conditioned for.

Nausea rolled in your stomach at the idea of how long they’ve been aware of this fate. These girls have been missing for weeks and months of their lives, kept Mother knows where to beat them into compliance.

They stood at attention, knives to their throats, unmoving.

Your eyes water seeing Kaltrina amongst them, her eyes downcast.

It was sickening.

Dardan comes from the crowd, looking down at you over the crook of his nose. He raises a knife to your throat, your skin nicking on the blade as your breathing quickened.

“Any last words?”

You look up at Dardan, mustering every ounce of defiance onto your face as you pull back, spitting into his smug face. His face falls for a moment before wiping the saliva off. Dardan looks towards the sky, “just a moment until sundown. If only your pretty little shadowsinger could be here now, to watch you become the ultimate sacrifice.”

Breathing gets harder as the seconds tick by, knowing the sun will set at any second. You felt a cool breeze blow over you.

Not a breeze.

A shadow.

“Get your fucking hands off of my mate.”

Your heart stops in your chest, something sparking deep within you at Azriel’s growl of warning in a tone you’ve never heard from him before. Dardan’s knife is still pressed to your neck, but you’re able to move your eyes enough to see wisps of shadow pulling the knives away from the necks of the other females in the circle.

You tilt your head back, barely able to make out Azriel standing behind Dardan, his shadows angrily darting all around him. Several more of them make their way to you, almost cloaking you in the scent of their master.

Dardan’s arrogance doesn’t balk at the sight of Azriel, his grip on the knife tightening.

“You can drop the ‘mate’ act, freak,” Dardan spat out, his words causing the shadows to whirl in agitation. “We need her-”

In a flash the shadows coating you slithered up your torso, slithering around the wrist that held the blade. They pulled the wrist away, the knife narrowly avoiding slicing your throat. At the same time, Azriel moved for Dardan, his fist connecting with Dardan’s jaw causing a crack across the clearing. Dardan hit the ground, but Azriel dove after him, landing punch after punch.

In the chaos of the fight breaking out, the crowd was in hysterics, all of the males attempting to fly or flee, pools of shadows surfaced at their feet, tripping them up, their bodies slowly disappearing into the darkness. Some of them tried to crawl from the darkness, but to no avail. The crowd quickly went from about 30 males to just the six females left, all unharmed, huddling together for some form of protection.

Azriel was choking Dardan out, scarred fingers forcing the breath from Dardan’s lungs. “I will enjoy taking my time with you.” Azriel’s words hung in the air as Dardan slowly slipped into the shadows underneath him, but Azriel remained on the grass. He quickly got to this feet, most of his shadows gone, likely to keep the Illyrian prisoners in check.

He stumbles over to you, quickly undoing your binds before wrapping you in his arms, pulling you from the altar.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” are all he says, his words repeating as you feel tears fall onto your shirt. You gripped him just as tightly, finding it easier to breathe in his presence for the first time in ages.

“I can’t live in fear anymore.”

He lunged for you, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s rushed, full of fear and trepidation.

But by the cauldron was it warm and full of life.

He pulled back, wiping spit from his mouth, his fingers covered in blood pushing the hair out of your face. “When I heard that your name was on one of those books, the bond snapped for me. I flew in a rage, killing all those traffickers. But I knew there were more like them out there.”

His eyes were full of regret, “I should have told you, but I thought you’d be safer not knowing. Then I figured this mission was my last time to actually have you, to play pretend.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of it, pulling him in closer to you. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling that deep smell of cedar that you adored more than anything. It felt like coming home.

“I’m still pissed at you for not telling me.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound you haven’t truly heard in ages, “can I make it up to you? I won’t keep secrets from you ever again.”

He holds your face in his hands, his own eyes wet with tears. One of his hands pulls away, his tan skin radiant in the moonlight. You bring up your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You keep your eyes on his, “no more secrets. From either of us.”

He nods, a bargain tattoo beginning to snake its way on your skin.

“No more running.”

The tattoo wove its way on your skin, dark tendrils solidifying where your forearms meet. When you pull your hand away, the tattoo is incomplete, missing the gaps where Azriel’s arm belongs.

Much like a one-sided duet, your tattoos look empty without the other there to complete the song that echoed in your chest, the song that hummed at the sight of him. The bond didn’t feel so much like a snap as a slow sinking, as if you had finally opened your eyes after so long.

Wrapped in his arms, the two of you had a lot to figure out - the females, what to do with the strange occult Illyrians, but the two of you could do it.

He promised - no more running.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

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Thanks for reading 💕

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

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sweet-as-an-angel · 11 months

Text

Miguel’s Reaction to You Calling Him a DILF

Warnings: Implied Smut, Dominant Miguel, Profanity, Use of ‘Daddy’, Lyla Trying Her Best <3, Fem Reader.

Despite spending every day with Lyla, an absolutely chronically online AI, Miguel knows little in the way of internet jargon.

Thus, this term - DILF - is one he’s never come across before. Namely because Lyla has never seen it fit to implement it into a conversation.

But, when Miguel overheard you calling him your “Favourite DILF; just a gorgeous, scrumptious specimen,” he had to ask Lyla to translate for him.

Miguel swore he could see her eyes widen, her brow stiffen and crease.

“It’s…it’s — uh — well…”

Lyla scratched the back of her head, her stare sloping off to the side — away from Miguel’s cattish stare. Her teeth gritted, a gateway, a preventative measure to ensure your safety and wellbeing. The only barrier between your open secret and miguel’s discovery of it.

“Oh, come on, Lyla,” Miguel crossed his arms over his chest, as if to inhibit the anxiety starting to bloom there. He doubted that you’d ever bad-mouth him, especially given how close the two of you were, but Lyla’s apprehension was starting to spark some doubts. Regardless, he persevered, kept his stare hard and neutral. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It..it means…” Lyla sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. She didn’t look up at Miguel, instead finding you in her mind’s eye and cursing you. And wishing the best for your safety.

“Dad I’d like to fuck.”

She came out with it, the words almost poisonous and sour on her tongue as they passed through. And the fact that she’d had to say them to Miguel of all people didn’t help.

At first, Miguel didn’t think he’d heard Lyla correctly, his posture and face remaining unchanged in the fallout of his discovery.

It was only after three seconds passed, four, five, that he truly heard — understood — what Lyla had said.

“Oh.”

A warmth bled across Miguel’s face, a creeping blush hidden only by the console’s yellow hue. Without another word, Mifuel turned tail, unfurling his arms, unravelling to his broadest potential. He began his descent, his destination clear as day in his mind’s eye.

Lyla’s’s eyes widened further, almost bulging from her head. She called, stammering: “(Y-Y/N) probably didn’t mean it! Not like that! So-so don’t go too hard on ‘er, okay?”

Miguel searched the entire facility for you, his face a concoction of emotions nobody (save for yourself) had ever seen before, thus making his mood indecipherable to all that were not you.

He eventually found you, isolated, in a room. Practically begging for what was to come next. He slipped inside, closed the door behind him.

You turned and smiled, sensing Miguel’s presence; the impression of authority.

“Hey, Miggy!” you chimed, eyes crescents. You turned back to checking off your stock list, paying little heed to the shadow advancing on you.

“Playing innocent, I see,” Miguel’s voice swooped and glided as the greatest bird of prey does, coming to stand mere centimetres behind you, his warmth at your back; a dark sun.

“I thought you’d be at home, caring for our child.” His hands came to sit on your shoulders, heavy and large. For a second, you were befuddled, believing Miguel to be spinning you a riddle. Then, realisation. Your heart dropped; you knew Miguel could feel it. Oh my God, Lyla.

“We…don’t have a child, Miguel,” you laughed, humourless and breathy. You knew you had to play your cards right. Carefully. Miguel gave a heavy, brief chuckle.

“Not yet,” he squeezed your shoulders, hands slipping down the length of your arms, the feeling of spiders creeping along your skin. “But seeing as you’re so keen on calling me daddy, I see no harm in pretending.”

His lips came to your neck, pressing deceptively soft kisses there.

You were frozen, though a fire stoked within you. One you couldn’t bring yourself to put out.

“After all, I am your DILF, aren’t I?”

You bit your lip, eyes squeezing shut as Miguel’s hands slid to your waist, pulling your back to his front where you felt something thick and large and bulging against your tailbone.

“A baseless accusation, don’t you think ?”

Your breath shuttered. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing—“

“It doesn’t matter how you meant it. What matters is it’s inaccurate,” Miguel spoke with a stoic logic you’d seen one too many times. He pulled you to him, tighter, closer, his heart pounding against your back.

“But, luckily for you, I’m in a giving mood. I’m not going to punish you for your little transgression. Instead, I’m going to give you an out.” He descended upon your skin again, nipping it between his blunted teeth, the threat of his fangs in your periphery.

“What…what’s that?” You almost didn’t want to ask, your heart creeping up your throat as if to muffle your words.

Miguel’s hand slipped from your waist, sliding sharp fingers down the expanse of your back, leaving trails of goosebumps. You felt his hand come between where the most prominent part of himself and you connected, his knuckles digging into the small of your back. He ran a hand over himself through his suit, palmed himself. His eye twitched. “You just have to be a good girl and lay down and take whatever I give you until I say we’re done.”

His grip on you tightened. You could feel how dark his gaze had become, weighing heavy on you like a robe.

You said nothing – could say nothing.

“Now, you wanna say that again,” his voice was muffled by your skin, his kisses becoming wetter, languid. He pushed himself against you, taking you by the hips and pulling you so he caught you just right. You spied his eye twitch in the reflection of the filing cabinet across from you as you cracked an eye open, a steady redness overtaking Miguel’s stare, his lips turning up at the corners, revealing his fangs.

“Or are you gonna keep that pretty little mouth shut and make me into a real daddy ?”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

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sluttywonwoo · 3 months

Text

color me like you || l.jh

pairing: lee jihoon x f reader

summary: you put your heart into every piece of jewelry you make, so why does it only hurt when they're for him?

warnings: swearing, some jealousy, smidgen of religious imagery, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex

word count: 5.3k

author’s note(s): for @sluttywoozi's birthday <33 ilyyy

this was the hardest fic i've ever written ;-; idk why but it just kept fighting me the whole time // also did not mean to be so heavy-handed with the rubies it just sort of happened

“What would you pick?”

Every single fucking time. It was like he didn’t know what he was doing by asking you that. And maybe he didn’t.

Lee Jihoon’s consultations were your least favorite part of (nearly) every month. And it wasn’t because he was a rude customer or a schmuck just looking to blow his money or anything like that- but because month after month he waltzed into your place of work and bought a custom piece for someone who wasn’t you even though he never failed to ask you that god damn question.

It wasn’t like it was uncommon for jewelers to get asked that. In fact, it was rather common. Men tended to view women as a monolith, accepting any opinion from whoever was nearest as a reflection of their partners’ solely based on the other party’s gender.

But with Jihoon it’s different. It was like Jihoon actually cared what you had to say about it, like it mattered what you thought of his decisions even though you were the one designing the piece and not receiving it.

It sends you into a mini spiral every time. Every time he walks through the door, eyes automatically searching for you. Every time he sits down in front of you and leans over your desk to get a closer look at your work and you catch a whiff of the expensive cologne dotted at his pulse points. Every time you have to gaze into his deep brown eyes and swallow the jealousy rising in your throat as you bare your soul to him laid out on a satin pillow for him to take and give to someone else.

You already know who it is once you see that the VIP Room is booked on your schedule. You groan internally, cursing the man as you run through all of your preparations. There isn’t much to do because almost everything is already ready for you but you try to stay busy anyway, finding yourself checking the clock on the wall over and over again until the bell above the door finally chimes to signal his arrival.

Your back is to the door and you don’t turn around right away even though you know he’s seen you. You can feel his gaze on you. It’s piercing yet magnetic in the way things like glass and icicles are- deceptively alluring, sharp enough to draw blood.

When you do finally turn to face him, you note that he’s flanked by a security guard, not unusual for him but unsettling to you nonetheless. You don’t know what he does for work. You’ve never asked. Better not to get attached is what you told yourself, not that you were having much luck with that.

Jihoon smiles politely at you and you return the nicety, gesturing to the door behind the counter for him to follow you.

The lights in the showroom are dim as always. The dark, velveted walls seem to be absorbing what little light the decorative lamps are effusing. The walls are lined with built-in display cases, illuminating their contents and nothing else.

In the middle of the room sits a desk, with a chair on either side. You take your place behind the desk and wait for Jihoon to sit before doing the same. He’s ditched his shadow so the two of you are alone, something you try not to think about as you organize your tools in front of you.

“How have you been?” Jihoon asks, his voice breaking the silence but doing little to ease the tension between you.

“I’ve been well,” you answer. It’s an honest answer, for the most part. “And yourself?”

“Busy,” he sighs, “but good.”

You fold your hands on the desktop in front of you, letting its cold surface ground you. You can already feel yourself starting to sweat even though the showroom’s the coldest place in the store. “So, what are we doing today?”

“A bracelet,” Jihoon says.

“For you or someone else?”

You never ask your clients who their orders are for. In your profession, you’ve learned that being too nosy, even in good conscience, can be dangerous. You’ll ask if the piece is for the client themselves, if it’s to celebrate a specific occasion, and what the person’s tastes are but little else. If they offer the information voluntarily, so be it.

“Someone else.”

You grit your teeth as you ask the next question. “Do you have their measurements?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer right away.

“Not exactly. It doesn’t need to be a perfect fit. They, uh, have about the same size wrist as me.”

“Then I’ll ask you to hold out your wrist for me…”

He extends his arm across the space between you, pale skin almost translucent under your Circline light.

“Which way,” he turns his hand for you, “palm up or down?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He leaves his palm skyward like he’s waiting for you to take his hand but you wrap the tapeline around his wrist instead, bringing the magnifier closer to get an exact measurement. You make a mental note of the number and definitely not of the way his fingers are long and calloused and-

“That’s really pretty.”

Jihoon’s voice startles you out of your unprofessional thoughts, making you jump a little in your seat. He grins apologetically.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you how pretty I think your ring is.”

Your eyes flit down to the piece of jewelry on your finger, a thin gold band looped around a few times like a wiry piece of thread. In between the strands of gold are three gems, diamond, alexandrite, and tourmaline, set in what looks to be random spots. You’ve worn it every day since you finished it but no one had ever commented on it until now.

“Was it a gift?” Jihoon asks.

“No, I made it.”

“I should’ve known,” he sighs.

You want to ask him what he means by that but you know his answer will only make you more delusional.

You release the end of the measuring tape and roll it back up, replacing it in its spot in your drawer and pulling out a leather bound notebook instead. You flip to a blank page and jot down Jihoon’s measurements along with the few details he’s told you thus far about the piece he wants made.

“Do you have an idea of what you want your bracelet to look like?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject. “Or should I show you some of my previous designs?”

“I think I have an idea but I don’t know how to describe it.”

“How about I show you some pieces and you tell me if they’re similar to what you had in mind?”

“That sounds perfect.”

You stand from the desk and turn around to face the display cases behind you. There’s an assortment of original jewelry pieces made by you and your colleagues to choose from but you only select ones you’ve made, knowing Jihoon would instantly be able to tell the difference. It’s happened enough times before.

You walk him through each of your selections, making note of what he points out about each of them. From his musings, you gather that he wants an argentium silver chain— thick enough to be inlaid with stones but not too thick that it would become too heavy or gaudy.

Listening to him talk about the piece made you smile despite the envy twisted around your heart. He had started to pick up on the terminology after coming here for so many months and seemed so much more confident about his knowledge of it all. It was apparent in the way he held himself now during consultations.

You get all of the initial details about the body of the piece squared away before moving on to the finer ones. Categorizing the steps like this helps you stay organized.

“And do you know which stones you want embedded in the bracelet?” you ask.

Jihoon rubs his thumb across his lips in thought. “I thought I did, but after seeing that,” he pauses to point at a necklace you’d shown him, “I’m having second thoughts.” The necklace he’s referring to is set similarly to the style of the bracelet, only gold and lined with rubies.

“What was your first choice?”

“Amethyst. Since it’s a birthday gift, I thought I’d go with their birthstone, but now I’m torn. What would you pick?”

There it was, the dreaded question. It was like he’d been holding a knife to your throat this entire time and finally decided to draw blood. Still, you answer like you always do.

“I’m partial to amethyst,” you admit, “and there’s the added significance of it being their birthstone, but the rubies would make more of a statement. It really depends on what kind of person you’re buying for. Are they a sentimental person or a flashy person?”

“They’re both,” Jihoon groans, putting his head in his hands. Then, after a moment, he sits back up. “But I think they’d like the rubies more. I feel like those evoke a more dramatic aura, if that makes sense.”

“It does. Rubies are associated with power and passion.” They’re also associated with romance but you choose not to mention that part. “In some cultures, they were believed to protect the wearers as well.”

“That’s perfect then.”

You clasp your hands together and force a smile. “Great! Do you want them around the entire band of the bracelet? From clasp to clasp?”

“What would two-thirds look like?”

“Let me show you.”

You discuss the size, cut, and spacing of the stones before calculating a price and timeline for the piece. You give Jihoon the receipt that states how much he owes today and how much he’ll owe when he comes to pick it up, circling the pick up date with your pen.

He pays with his black card, the one you’ve become accustomed to swiping every time you see him. You expect him to leave promptly after the payment, that’s what usually happens, but he doesn’t. He lingers a little awkwardly as you put the jewelry back in their display cases, hesitating by the door like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Jihoon?” you ask him eventually, “is everything okay?”

You refer to most of your clients by their surnames but Jihoon had asked you not to the very first time you met. “It makes me feel old,” he’d explained with a laugh.

Now, he laughs again. This time, it’s a nervous laugh, one that draws confusion and sets your own nerves on edge.

He swallows harshly. “I know this may be entirely inappropriate, but I promised myself I wouldn’t leave today without asking if you would go to dinner with me.”

“W-what?”

“Go to dinner with me?” he repeats, this time in the form of an actual question.

You blink. “For real?”

“Um, yes? Unless your answer is no, then no, not for real.”

You put both hands on your desk to brace yourself, unsure what to make of his request. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. Why would you want to go to dinner with me?”

“Because I want to take you on a date.”

“A date?!”

Jihoon clears his throat a little bashfully. “Yes, I thought that was implied when I invited you to dinner.”

“Dinner could mean a lot of things! Maybe it was a business proposal.”

He chuckles. “I’m a music producer, I don’t know what kind of business I’d have with a jeweler.”

It doesn’t even dawn on you that you’ve finally found out what he does for work because you’re so overwhelmed by the fact that he’s asking you out to comprehend anything else. You can hardly comprehend this.

“You want to go on a date with me?”

“I- uh, I’ve been coming here for months just to see you. I mean, I was really getting gifts for people but they don’t give a fuck about what I buy them for their birthdays as long as it’s expensive... they don’t really care about the different gems and settings and shit.” You’re still processing his words when Jihoon lifts his head to peek at your reaction. “Are you... upset?”

“Upset? No, I’m relieved!”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

“This whole time I thought you were getting gifts for your partner, or partners, I thought you were taken.”

You watch the corners of Jihoon’s mouth quirk up into a smile as he realizes what you’re saying. “And that upset you?”

“Yes,” you mumble.

“You like me back?”

“Yes. It’s been terrible.”

“Pardon?” he chokes out.

“Imagine the roles were reversed,” you explain, “I’m coming to you every month, getting to know you better and you’re learning more and more about me, I’m flirting with you, you’re starting to feel like we’re getting closer-”

“Only for you to buy the jewelry for someone else,” he concludes for you with a grimace, “presumably a romantic partner. Yeah, okay I can see how that would be miserable.”

“But then, who have these even been for this whole time?!” you blurt out, finally breaking your number one rule.

“I’ll explain everything over dinner,” Jihoon promises.

“But when is dinner?”

“What time does your shift end?”

Jihoon does explain everything over dinner, as promised. He gave you some time after work to get ready for the date and then picked you up from your place in a town car. He’d told you before that he’s never felt the need to get a drivers license, that public transport and ride services were plenty to get him to where he needed to go, and that he seldom left the house anyway. You offered to drive to dinner since you did have both a car and a license but Jihoon astutely refused, saying that while he wasn’t very old fashioned, he was the one who asked you out and he’s always liked the idea of a more traditional first date.

Dinner is at a restaurant you’ve never even heard of but apparently has a Michelin star. The food and mocktails are delicious, but truthfully the last thing on your mind as you stare across the table at your date. He’s dressed in all black, like usual, but had chosen an outfit that was much more formal than what you were used to seeing him in: pressed slacks and a dress shirt that was buttoned just low enough to show off a hint of collarbone, cleavage, and a chain you recognize as one you’d crafted for him almost a year ago.

He almost always wore a hat when visiting your store but tonight he’s forgone the baseball cap and swept his long hair back in a half up, half down sort of manner. There’s product in it but a few wisps of his bangs have escaped the hold of the gel and hang in front of his eyes.

You briefly wonder if he’d let you style his hair, if he’d let you braid it back. He’d look so pretty with french braids-

At the end of the meal, after he’s paid, he asks the question. Not the question, the one you’re always dreading, but a new one that makes your heart beat just as fast.

“Are you doing anything after this?”

You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the watered down taste in order to keep the air of suspense. “That depends, what are you doing?”

Jihoon’s apartment is closer than yours. It’s in the middle of the city, nestled safely above the bustling crowds and chaos of the streets beneath it. You would call it a penthouse but it isn’t on the top floor of the building nor does it have a terrace- the point is, it’s bigger than the house you grew up in. You can tell just from standing in the doorway with all the lights off. The floor to ceiling windows lined all along the far wall give it away. They let in just enough light from the billboards and neon street signs below to cast shadows in the corners of the room that emphasize its depth.

There’s music playing softly throughout the apartment when you enter.

“I wasn’t expecting this to happen,” Jihoon insists as he scrambles to turn on some lamps. “I swear, I just always have music playing.”

“Sure,” you tease him, bending down to slip out of your heels.

You’re still a few inches taller than him without them on but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. You certainly don’t. “I can turn it off if you’d prefer,” he offers.

“No, that’s okay. I like having it on when-” you stop yourself mid-sentence, cheeks blooming with heat. You had been about to say, ‘when I’m having sex,’ and Jihoon seems to fill in the blank himself from the way he smirks at you.

“Really? That’s good to know.”

You’re too flustered to think of a witty response so you just pucker your lips like you do when you don’t know what to say and hope he can’t tell how insane with lust his answer just made you.

The lapse in his gentlemanly manner is brief and before things can go too far he takes your coat and purse and leads you to the couch in the living room. You sit and watch as he crouches in front of the fireplace, rolling up his sleeves. It’s a gas fireplace so all he has to do is turn the dial to the desired strength, there’s no soot or ash or really anything that would make him dirty, but you appreciate the view of his arms nonetheless.

You know Jihoon is a big fitness buff. It’s one of the first things he ever told you, apologizing for how sweaty he was as he shook your hand and introduced himself. It’s been hard not to let that knowledge distract you whenever you see him now. You’ve caught yourself ogling his biceps and quads (and ass) an unhealthy amount of times in your consultations. You can let yourself get distracted tonight, though. Now that he’s not your client and you’re the girl he’s brought home. Now that he’s got his forearms out on display specifically for you to ogle.

He joins you on the couch a moment later, creating a respectful distance between you.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks suddenly. “I don’t have any alcohol in the house because I don’t really drink but I could make you something like we had at dinner. I also have Coke Zero and water and-”

You put your hand out to stop him, relieved to know he’s just as nervous as you are. “Water would be great, thanks.”

“Ice?”

“If you have it.”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t,” he points out.

“Right. That’s... right.”

He laughs affectionately and touches your knee as he goes to stand from the sofa. His hand is warmer than you expect, making you suck in a quick breath that makes you both freeze. Your eyes meet his before his gaze shifts to your lips.

“Do you... still want that water?”

Your mouth does feel dry but for an entirely different reason.

“Maybe later.”

He’s on top of you as soon as your back hits the mattress, strong thighs straddling your hips. His hair falls into his eyes and subsequently yours as he leans down and gently cups your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, kiss me,” you gasp, pulling him into you before he does.

Jihoon groans the instant your lips touch his, grinding into you almost involuntarily. It isn’t long until you’re moaning too, practically writhing underneath him as he kisses you like he’s found God.

Everything about him is soft, except his hands. His voice, his tongue, his touch. His hands leave your cheeks and start to explore the rest of your body, grazing your chest and hips over your dress.

His fingers skim the hem of it and dip just below the seam, lifting the fabric from your thighs before letting it float back down.You don’t know if he’s teasing you on purpose but it’s driving you crazy. You’ve wanted him for so long now that his self control feels cruel, like he’s dangling himself just out of reach.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“I honestly wanted you to get more carried away,” you admit.

“Really?”

“I thought I was making it obvious.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” he mumbles through a smug grin, “and I didn’t know how far you wanted to go tonight.”

“I want to go as far as you want to go,” you assure him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You’re not typically one to sleep with someone on a first date, not for any religious, moral (or internally misogynistic) reason, you just don’t like being that vulnerable with someone you’ve just met. You’ve also found sex to be a lot more enjoyable with someone you feel connected to.

So even though it’s technically your first date with Jihoon, you’ve known him for what feels like half of an eternity and craved him for every single moment of it. You aren’t going to deny yourself what you’ve longed for for ages.

“In that case, can I eat you out?” he asks.

“Fuck yeah you can.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs as he positions himself between your legs and pushes your dress up to your hips.

“Really?” you sigh.

Jihoon kisses the inside of your thigh and then hums against it. “Mhm, every single time we were alone in that dark room I’d just think about crawling under that table and spreading your legs apart...”

“You should have.”

Jihoon scoffs. “You would have gotten fired.”

“Worth it.”

“But isn’t this much better?” he asks, pressing his tongue over your panties. “I can take my time with you and you can be as loud as you want...”

Jihoon repeats the motion with his tongue and you whimper as if to prove his point. He’s barely done anything and your panties are already soaked through. To be fair, you’ve been wet since dinner but that was his doing too. All he had to do was look pretty and you were melting for him.

“Want me to take these off?” he asks.

“God, please.”

“Here, lift up for me then, perfect. Now put your legs over my shoulders... good, just like that.”

He drowns himself in you, worshiping your cunt with his lips and his tongue and his entire being. He takes his time tasting all of you before moving on to what he knows you’re actually waiting for. You try to be patient, you know he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have, and it feels good... you just need more.

He does give you more, eventually. His tongue dips inside of you when you’re least expecting it and your thighs clamp around his head in surprise. He’s completely unfazed by this, and pries them apart with ease, holding your legs open as he continues to drink you in.

He switches between tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit a few times to figure out which you like more, settling on a pattern that has his name echoing off the walls of his bedroom.

You can barely hear the music playing over the obscene sounds he’s making as he eats you out but you find you actually prefer them anyway.

His mumbling is incoherent, muffled by you in every sense of the word. Still, you can tell he’s praising you, encouraging you to surrender to the pleasure.

It doesn’t take much convincing because he has you on the edge in record time. No man has ever gotten you so close so fast, you don’t even think you’ve made yourself cum this fast and you have that shit down to a science. It’s over for you as soon as he adds his fingers into the mix. You wanted to hold off a little longer just to prove a point but Jihoon has his own point to prove.

You don’t necessarily need penetration to get off but having something to cum around does make orgasms stronger for you. He must know this, or at least have an inkling, because he pushes two fingers inside of you right when your breath catches in your throat and your body locks up and your vision starts to blur…

“Baby- is it okay if I call you baby? Are you alright?”

It’s more than okay, you think to yourself and then you realize the disembodied voice that sounds a lot like Jihoon’s is actually expecting an answer.

You open your eyes the tiniest bit to see a very wet, very concerned-looking Jihoon hovering above you.

“You can call me whatever you want,” you tell him.

“That wasn’t really the important question out of the two,” he sighs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great!”

He breathes a sigh of relief and collapses against your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you laugh. “Aren’t we going to keep going?”

Jihoon lifts his head and gives you a look. “You just came so hard you blacked out, don’t you want to take a break?”

You shake your head. “No? Why would I?”

His lips part and he sputters, “because you just-”

“It’s sweet that you’re worried about me, but I promise I’m fine. I’ve never been better.”

“Never?”

“Never ever.”

“So… I can kiss you again?”

“As many times as you want.”

The power you’ve bestowed on him in that one sentence immediately goes to his head and he spends the next several minutes pressing kisses into your skin as he undresses both you and himself.

He kisses you in between every piece of clothing that comes off, every button of his shirt that he undoes, dragging out every moment until you’re both completely naked save for your ring and his necklace (and a condom).

He’s huge, unsurprisingly. What is surprising is how hard he is already. You knew he was turned on, you could feel him through his pants when you were making out and he was grinding into you, but you didn’t realize it was like this. You haven’t even touched him and his cock is rock hard and flushed at the tip. Did he get that worked up just from giving you head? Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter...

He pumps himself a few times before easing into you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he struggles to keep his composure. You aren’t faring any better, hands flying to his biceps when he bottoms out. The stretch is more intense than you’re expecting. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your head. All you can do is lay there on the satin sheets and feel as Jihoon makes himself a part of you.

“Are you okay?” you hear him ask distantly, voice trembling.

“I’m perfect,” you manage to respond.

“You are,” he agrees.

Your brows wrinkle in confusion as you try to blink him back into focus. Hm?”

He just smiles and pets your hair gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

“O-okay.”

“Am I good to start moving?”

“Yes, yes please fuck me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull his body even closer just in case he needs further convincing, gasping in relief when he finally does start to move. It’s slow at first, experimental. You’re still sensitive from cumming so every sensation is heightened. Every stroke feels better than the last and you can only hope it feels just as good for Jihoon.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, “how are you so fucking wet?”

“I really like you,” you laugh, “and you’re so good at, like, everything! It’s unfair and it’s, fuck, not my fault.”

“I really like you too,” he confesses, starting to fuck you harder. You expect him to elaborate but he doesn’t, not right away. Instead, he lets his body do the talking for him while he busies his mouth with yours. You can still taste yourself on his lips along with traces of your lipgloss and chapstick that he’d long since kissed off. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating.

When he raises his head and puts a hand on the headboard to steady himself, the necklace you’d made him dangles right in front of your face, the cross pendant just inches from your nose. He grabs it with his free hand and puts the charm between his teeth so that it won’t hit you, smirking at the way your eyes roll back.

“You like that?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs, then mumbles, “God, you’re so hot. I’m so fucking close already.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, down into another kiss. The chain still in his mouth presses into your lips, the cold metal a striking difference from the heat of your bodies.

“Please tell me you’re close too,” he whispers.

“So fucking close.”

You just need a little more to get you over that edge again. You release one of your arms from around his neck and snake it in between yourselves to rub your clit but Jihoon pushes it away and replaces it with his own. He repeats the same motions with his fingers that he’d done with his tongue, begging you to cum with him.

“Let go for me, baby,” he urges, “wanna cum together. Please let me feel you.”

You don’t black out this time but you do cry, fingernails digging into his back as you fall apart under him. Jihoon fucks you through it, helping you both ride it out. He’s shaking by the time the aftershocks pass and carefully lays himself on top of you like a blanket so that you can both catch your breath.

“S-sorry, I thought I’d last a lot longer,” he apologizes sheepishly. “Next time I will. Maybe. Your pussy is crazy though so you can’t hold me to that.”

“You’ve got such a way with words,” you scoff.

“What can I say, I’m a songwriter. It’s in my blood.”

You snort and push him off you, searching your phone. Your best friend had probably alerted you missing to the authorities by now after not hearing from you for however many hours it’d been since you last updated her. You find your phone under one of the pillows and see a barrage of texts from her and the groupchat just like you predicted. Snitch. You would have to grovel later, though, because Jihoon had gotten up to start the shower and returned to get you now that the water was warm.

He helps you step into the basin and shows you how to adjust the temperature in case it isn’t to your liking before asking if you want him to stay. You do, and you point out that he needs to shower too so it would be more efficient if you showered together anyway.

He joins you without a second’s hesitation, kissing your shoulder from behind as he begins to gently lather your body with soap. You return the favor after he’s done with you and soon enough he’s wrapping you and himself up in plush white towels he’d grabbed from the warmer next to the shower.

“Stay the night?” he asks as he dries you off.

You don’t have anything you need with you because you hadn’t planned on spending the night. It’s usually impossible to sleep without your overnight essentials but you’re honestly so exhausted you think you could fall asleep standing up.

“Don’t feel like you have to,” he adds when he senses your hesitation.

“No, I want to,” you assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting to have a sleepover so I don’t have any of my things.”

“I have an extra toothbrush,” he supplies helpfully, like that’s the only thing that could have been preventing you from making a decision.

You smile, trying not to laugh. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

He smiles back. “Anything for you.”

this was something kind of different but i hope you liked it bestie <3 can't wait to hear your thoughts i love youuuu

#color me like you #woozi smut #jihoon smut #lee jihoon smut #lee woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #woozi x female reader #svt x reader #seventeen x female reader

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groguspicklejar · 6 months

Text

part 6 of medieval ghoap x reader

warnings: angst by the bucketloads, deception, anxiety, brief mentions of Simon's abusive upbringing, reader is fearful, blood, implied murder, themes of forced prostitution, elements of sexual violence and trauma, fluff.

"let me see.” she gently angles your head so she can take a better look at it under the candlelight. "that's quite a nasty bruise."

the healer’s gaze had focused on the mark on your cheek before her thumb grazed the cut on your lip. you sat stiffly on the king’s bed as the elder woman examined your wounds and tended to them as best as she could.

though you suspect she only handled you with the utmost care because Ghost was hovering nearby, watching her every move or listening to what she says because he doesn’t trust that she would be kind to you. of course, you know this is true because she has tended to some of the men and women in the harem and she wasn’t nearly as gentle as she was with them as she is now. she never failed to voice her dislike for the “common whores” in this castle.

for once, you appreciated Ghost’s presence.

she spares you one last look after she was done, she gives the king and the knight a bow before she leaves. at the very least, you can now breathe easier without feeling like someone might curse you for your existence. well… almost.

you’ll take the healer’s disapproving glare over Ghost’s scowl any hour of the day.

in the meantime, you were kept in the king's chambers. the wounds on your face didn't look too bad anymore. less swollen now. hopefully, there won't be a scar.

you doubt you'd earn a good coin with a marred face. men don't ever like broken little things, even though they often cause the damage.

"it'll heal, bonnie. don't ye worry." the king plucks the small mirror from your grasp and puts it away before he pulls you onto his lap. "right, Si?"

Ghost doesn’t answer him. instead, he walks over to sit down next to you and the king. his dark armour, all sharp edges and hard steel contrasting against the soft sheets. a testament to what he is; a warrior, a conduit of death.

you try not to bristle as he settles so close when you're sitting on his beloved. it's not usually out of his own volition too, so that is yet another thing you're conscious of. you hate how it churns your stomach, the thought of instigating his rage by being anywhere near the king while he watches.

“is there anything you need, love?” he asks.

and for a moment, you are momentarily stunned that he even cares enough to inquire.

yes, you do need a lot of things, actually. safe passage back to your aunt’s manor, for one. though you’re not certain that the king would even agree to that. let alone allow not one, but two of her best saddles to leave.

you’ll continue working on that as time goes on.

“Madam Victoria has something of mine.” the king rubs your back, trying to soothe you. “a letter.”

"a letter." Ghost muses, tilting his head. "from who?"

you still feel the sting on your cheek. too often, you've faced Victoria's wrath. it comes back to haunt you in this quiet moment, making it exceedingly difficult not to squirm on the king's lap.

"my aunt." you quietly said, gaze casting off to the side. "she lives far from here, but... she's the only family i have left."

you miss her. dearly. you haven't seen her in so long but you still remember the warmth of her voice. it was the same as your mother's.

you don't try to shift away when the king holds you a little tighter. "the letter she sent had arrived two days ago and..."

and you have yet to read it, to hold it in your hands. you miss the scent of her perfume. of a home long lost to you. a home you're trying to return to.

"was Victoria the one who hurt you?" it's the king who asks.

your eyes shift to him, blinking rapidly to try and simmer back the tears.

"no, it was her guard and—" you nearly choke when you remember the sting, but you take a breath and continue. "well, i'd like to have my letter, please... if that's not too much to ask."

you want to crawl into a dark hole and stay there for all eternity when the silence falls on their end. when they look at you like... like... you don't know.

you hate it. you don't want to be looked at anymore.

"alright." Ghost concedes, nodding softly. "alright, i'll speak to that old hag."

you were alone in the tub of steaming water, contemplating the events that had led you here.

Victoria had ordered you to come to her study, where she had cornered you and confronted you about your aunt's letters. you weren't surprised that she read them. she reads everyone's letters. no respect for privacy and whatnot but you had grown used to it and you had nothing to hide.

but she was furious that you were planning to leave. why?

"you have the king's favour." she hissed. "you can't leave."

frankly, you wouldn't call it favour. a fleeting interest, more like. soon, he'll tire of you and discard you like the rest. the only reason he's kept you around this long is because Ghost wouldn't let him have you, which only deepened his desire for what was denied of him.

it's nothing more than that. and you don't doubt that desire won't fizzle out like water under the weight of the sun on a hot summer's day. it is simply a matter of time. you were only trying to secure the only future you could once that came to pass.

unfortunately, Victoria didn't care. she was far too concerned with making more of a profit out of your labour.

you didn't much appreciate that. and you did voice you objections to that. she didn't take it well. neither did her guards. he backhanded you for standing up to Victoria like that, for speaking out of turn. the metal on his knuckles hurt and cut your lip. you had fell down from the impact.

"are ye sure the water's not too hot?" the king asks, eyes brimming with concern. he can barely dip his fingers in the water's without wincing.

"it's fine." you rest your chin on your knees, ignoring the sore bruise on the left one. you hugged your legs, eyes drifting away from him. "i like it this way."

it usually helps to scrub off the disgusting feeling of men's touch on your skin. you felt better after a hot bath. not as clean as you'd like to be after fulfilling your duties with some entitled lord, but the scorching water leaving your skin raw made you feel less filthy.

you cling to that feeling now more than ever. Victoria tends to have that effect. she was just as vile as the men she catered to. which is why you cannot stay here for much longer.

since the king picked you, you never had to sleep with another man. the incident with Graves had granted you some protection and your responsibilities only shifted to the king and his knight only.

once the king's vested interest in you wanes, you'll be forced to going back to serving the other lords again. and you can't have that. you're too exhausted, too weak to go back to that life again. it'll break you this time. you can't go back to that again.

you won't. you won't—

"bonnie." your eyes fluttered open, blurry gaze shifting to him.

you hadn't realized the prickle in the corners of your eyes. the king had knelt next to the tub, his hand grasping the back of your neck.

"what's wrong?" it's a plea. "tell me."

the storm in his blue eyes calls to your heart. you want it to whisk you away, far from here. far from this castle, this madness.

but he's a man. he's always had a choice, a freedom he'll always take for granted. a freedom you might never reach, even with the tips of your fingers. he wouldn't understand.

you don't have the words, nor the energy to make him understand the agony of the things you've been forced to do. so you do what you only been taught to do.

feign a smile, despite how frail, despite the tightness in your chest, and say, "it's nothing, your majesty."

you don't know what he finds when he takes a moment to look at you. though it feels more like he's looking through you. it's easier not to ask.

but there's something in his gaze, something in the way he frowns and the way his shoulders drop slightly. something akin to disappointment, almost a quiet... grief.

what could he possibly be grieving?

instead of pushing for your honesty, he relents and gives you his own smile. just as artificial, though softer. "how about a cup of tea to soothe yer nerves?"

you don't say no to that.

Simon sat opposite from Madam Victoria with her desk being the only thing separating the two. her study was quite large. books lined the walls and a low flame burned in the fireplace opposite them.

the pointed ends of his metallic claws lazily tapped on the wooden table from pinkie to index, slowly taunting her with the noise echoing through the deafening silence of her chambers. she watched his gauntlet move with a vested interest in staying away from it.

her two guards stand sentinel behind her, silver armour polished and shiny, limbs tense and poised for an attack. good. the weight of Ghost's presence had better crush them for what they did.

although her appearance seemed neat, she struggled to hide her terror. Ghost glimpses the sweat lining her forehead, the wrinkles around her wicked eyes straining. she looks paler than usual.

good.

"where's the letter, Victoria?"

Ghost nearly smiles when she jerks at his words. it's a small comfort, a small retribution for the way you often flinch around him and Johnny. he thinks of your fear, barely restrained behind tight smiles, curtsies, clasped hands and a lowered gaze, he thinks of how you shy away from Johnny's touch when he seeks it out, how your voice has remained quiet ever since they met you.

how afraid you were when you were faced with his ire, so ready to remove yourself from Johnny's side if only to be spared of any consequences.

all thanks to this wretched hag sitting in front of him.

the horrors you must've endured under her 'care'... Ghost's fist clenched before he could even think about it.

"so she sent you to retrieve it..." she says as she pulls an envelope from the drawer in her desk. "i thought you didn't like her."

"what i like is none of your concern." he snatches the letter from her, relishing the way her hands quickly retract from his metal claw as if it'll snatch them instead.

if she's not careful with her words, he just might. the guards shift, only slightly, cautious of his movements. he wants to laugh at them.

the envelope has already been opened, its red seal broken. his metal claws scratch the paper, testing the texture of it. "and was this worth slapping her across the face?"

"i didn't do that." she quickly spoke before her expression shifted to that similar to disdain. "and she's planning to leave." he stiffens. his eyes heated and dark quickly shifting to meet her gaze. "she and another one of those filthy whores."

leave?

something in his chest seizes uncomfortably. the words in his throat lodge there. his eyes lock on the letter. he suddenly wants to read it. to see if it's true.

no—

he shouldn't want that. he can't be selfish. it's only warranted your fear. your privacy has been violated enough. it wouldn't be right. but...

the thought of you leaving...

believe me, if i h—had a choice in the matter, i—i wouldn't be here.

had you actually meant what you said that day? and if so, how far away would you be? just how far? so far neither he nor Johnny could reach you?

how far, sweet girl? how far would you be?

"no one would want them." Victoria hisses, drawing his attention away from the paper, her face marred with a rage that tinted her cheeks red. "they're better off here than anywhere else."

fucking bitch—

he pictures her limp body hanging in the courtyard for all to see. along with the men who hurt you, who used you like you were nothing more than a toy at their disposal. sooner or later, all of them are going to rot.

Ghost vows that he will make sure of it.

"i won't kill you." he waits for the relief to bleed into her eyes before yanking it away. "for now."

her ease crumbles, just as he expected and he lapped up her despair. oh, he's going to enjoy tormenting her. toying with her the way a pack of wolves play with their food, giving her a little sense of illusion, of freedom, before taking it away.

just like she took away yours.

"but i do have to ask..." his head tilts. "which one of these fuckers laid their filthy hands on her?"

when Simon returns to the king's chambers with his cloak stained red, he senses something is wrong.

first off, you were all alone in the enormous room. and you didn't look any bit comfortable as you should've been. you had scrambled off the bed as soon as the door opened for him.

his heart breaks at your immediate fear of him. is this how his mother felt around his father? the thought makes him want to throw himself from the highest tower in the castle.

"where's Johnny?" he takes careful strides towards you and stands a good distance away, conscious of the way your hands clasp tightly at your front, of how you keep your gaze at his boots.

please look up. please, look at me—

your head shifts as you gesture to the door. "he stepped outside to speak with one of the nobles."

there's a tremble in your voice that he doesn't quite like. your eyes were red and swollen. you've been crying. here, alone. when you were sure that no one was looking.

something in his being screams for more blood. that of the guard that hit you wasn't enough. Ghost wants to bathe in the blood of every person who so much as looked at you the wrong way—

"did you... did you speak to her?" you ask, eyes shifting upward. he waits for your gaze to meet his, but it never does. it only fixes on his chest. "does she still have it?"

Simon restrains the urge to reach for you, to hold you. but he doesn't want to startle you. you're already uncomfortable under his gaze, he doesn't want to make it worse.

but it is worse. for him. his throat constricts painfully. the envelope burns in his pocket.

secondly... he doesn't think he wants to give you the letter just yet. not until he's sure if Victoria was telling the truth. that you... that you want to leave.

he wants to prevent that if he can. he wants— he hopes he can change your mind, make you want to stay here. with him and Johnny.

"no." he grits out. "i didn't find it."

he feels sick as soon as he says it. even more so when the frail hope in your eyes melts away.

"oh..." you utter solemnly, and it follows a nod and a sad smile. "well, thank you for the effort anyway, sir."

you offer a quick bow and move past him, light on your feet and hurrying to the door. he half turns, looking at you. "where are you going, love?"

in an instant, you stopped, startled by his inquiry. wide eyes glanced at him. "to my— to my chambers—"

"no." it's sharper than intended because you shrink at his tone. he's softer when he adds, "you can't go back there."

"i..." your gaze lowers as you take a step back, confused. "i—i'm n—not sure what you mean. i don't know where else to go."

he's silent. how can he make you understand that you're meant to be here? that you're not unwelcome here?

"he's yours, i understand that. i always have. and i swear to the gods that i'm not trying to come between you two." you tell him with as much truth you can muster from your heart. "i'll try my best to not draw the king's attention. i'll stay away—"

"that is not what we both want." he takes a step closer and for once, you stand your ground, your expression hardening.

"since when?" it's quiet. it's a challenge. "he might want me here, but you don't. you said so yourself."

Simon holds your gaze as the words hang like daggers pointed at him. but very quickly, your soft glare melts and your eyes fill with dread.

"sir..." you utter, your expression churning his stomach, morphing into horror at what you'd just done, hands clasped over your mouth. "i—i apologize, i spoke out of turn. i meant no disrespect, please forgive me—"

there's nothing to forgive. he couldn't care less that you spoke out of turn. you were well within your right to say whatever you want to him.

"you're not supposed to go anywhere." he softly commands. "when we say you stay here, you stay."

your mouth seals shut, gaze fixed downward, muttering one last quiet "yes, sir."

it's an agonizing sight. watching how you would rather be anywhere but here, anywhere near him. he thinks this is how he and his mother were around his pathetic excuse of a father. he detests it. he hates this sickening pit in his stomach, this fear he induces in you. it doesn't sit right with him.

he doesn't want you to look at him like that. like he's a much worse version of his father, of the men who hurt you.

he wants— no, craves that dazed look in your eyes when you're flooded with pleasure. he craves the joy in your eyes. he craves your curiosity. hell, he'll even take your anger. anything but fear.

quite the irony, considering he doesn't mind anyone else (except for Johnny) being afraid of him.

if he can give you fewer reasons to be frightened and more reasons to be comfortable, then he might be able to breathe easier.

he offers his hand instead. "you may call me Simon."

as he expected, you bristle at the name. he wonders why. you seem to avoid first names, even when you've been given the liberty to use them. that little fact didn't escape him and it didn't bother him much because he was too blinded by jealousy.

until now, that is.

"y—you have blood on your—" your eyes widen, you take a step back. "on your..."

his gaze shifts to where yours are fixated. his gauntlet. shit, he forgot about that. he takes it off and drops it to the floor, reaching for you.

"come here." the yelp escaping your throat when his hand touches yours, pulling him toward him, guts him. "no need to be frightened, sweet girl—"

he's not proud of the way you flinched when he took a step closer.

"s'alright, love. you're alright. you're safe." he wraps his arms around your frame, holding you close. "no one's gonna hurt you."

you didn't deserve his ire. nor his indifference. Johnny was right all along about you.

even when he embraced you, you remained as stiff as a cold branch with the leaves trembling in the wind. he feels the unsteady flutter of your heart under his palm, feels your petrified bones shaking in his grasp. terrified. of him.

it pains him that he cannot even fault you for that. he's given you plenty of reasons to be afraid. and he hates that did.

from there, Simon promised himself that he would never direct his rage towards you. never again.

his hand cups the back of your head, arm tightening around your waist as he whispers, "i will never hurt you again, sweet girl. i promise."

but even so, why does it feel like he's already broken that vow?

[part 7]

i was choking back the tears as i wrote this. please accept my humble offering. i know it's a bit salty, but it'll do for now. banners by @saradika and @cafekitsune offer a coin to the picklejar

#what's in the picklejar #cita!ghoap au #ghoap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley imagine #call of duty #ghost x soap x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #141 #task force 141 #x female reader #x fem!reader

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lustsickforyou · 1 year

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what side are you on?

sirius black x reader (romantic, to platonic) regulus black x reader (romantic, eventually) james potter x reader (if you squint)

summary: you were born into a pureblood family and taught a special ability since birth, you’ve been used your whole life and you start to want a change.

warnings: arranged marriage, abusive parents, talks of miscarriage, mentions of death, angst

a/n: basing the power off of a heart renderer from shadow and bone, so credits do that. i also added in a scene from call me by your name because i couldn’t resist. will be a multi part series. reader is slytherin.

part one , part two

Life hadn’t always been easy for you, it was something that seemed so normal at this point. You were born into a pureblood family, one of the sacred twenty eight. When your mother married your father they placed the expectation for her to bare his heir just as they did to everyone else. Your mother tried so hard to perform her duty, but pregnancy after pregnancy she had failed to do so, even though it wasn’t her fault. Each child that she had lost picked away at her soul, and she swore the last time she was pregnant that she would be done after that. She never even wanted kids in the first place.

That’s when you came along, a healthy daughter, but hardly what her husband had wished for. This daughter couldn’t carry on the family name. Your mother was so displeased with herself, the secrets the woman would share in whispers across the board got to her. So in attempt to save herself and her husband from their reputation being ruined, she made a deal with the devil. Tom Riddle himself. She swore that she would train her daughter to become a heart render at his own expense if he would marry her off to a respectable family. He, of course— agreed.

Heart renderers were rare, just like a legilimens. It was hard to perfect, but with you at home every day as a child and with lots of consequences if you did not perform to your mother’s liking, you mastered the art. You could do a plethora of things, both good and bad. You could make someone’s blood boil, get them to do whatever you wanted, get them to say things they would never normally say aloud. But you could also soothe a temper, calm someones heart rate, keep them warm. It was a blessing and a curse.

You were presented to Tom Riddle when you were eight, and he held up to his deal. Use you in exchange for a husband who had a well known name, that being Sirius Black. You two were to be married when you turn eighteen. The two of you spent a lot of time together at home, but rarely ever in school. He was a Gryffindor boy who was out of control, you were a Slytherin girl who kept to herself. Tom and his parents hoped this marriage would keep Sirius in line.

Many people at school feared you, in fact Dumbledore gave strict instructions for you to never use you powers in school. You understood this, followed the rules. The students didn’t understand, and would often say nasty things about you and your special abilities. How you were untrustworthy, that they needed to keep a distance from you for their own safety. You had never given them a reason to be scared, and yet here you were. Cursed with a power that only you saw could be good, but many found deceptive.

Now you were in your seventh year, used for your powers by Tom whenever he pleased, and Sirius had gone off the rails, leaving his family behind and the promise he gave to you along with them. Just before he left his home he came to you, he saw the good in you. Tried to convince you to run off with him for a better life, but you knew you couldn’t.

“Come with me, y/n.” he pleaded, looking down at you with hopeful eyes. You shook your head, stepping back from him. You wanted nothing more than to leave, to finally free yourself from not only your mother’s tight grip on you but Tom’s as well. “I can’t.” you whispered with tears in your eyes. Tom would kill you if you left, he had threatened it plenty of times when he noticed you grew weary of the things he made you do, the people he made you hurt. “Why?” Sirius tried to dig deeper, hopefully to make you realize that there was no reason why you shouldn’t go. “I can’t.” you repeated shakily. Everything in you was screaming to run, but you knew what Tom would do. He would hunt anyone you ever cared about, saving you for last before casting the unforgivable curse and take your life. Sirius stepped towards you. “Please.” he begged. You stepped back again, holding your hands up. The two of you turned your head when you heard footsteps coming down the hallway, you mother calling your name. You pushed him forward quickly. “Go.” you whispered with urgency. “Please come with me.” he pleaded. You held his arms in your hands and pushed him again. “Go.” you repeated but this time much more firm. With that he was gone, and you hadn’t seen him for months.

Now you sat by yourself at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. You looked down at the book Sirius gifted to you on your eighteenth birthday just days before he left. It was a muggle book full of poems, something James had shown to him. You two had each other’s backs in the hardest of times. You understood each other on a different level. When he would panic, you would soothe his heart rate. When you would cry he would be there to comfort you. You nervously tapped your finger on the table, turning to see Sirius enter the Great Hall with his friends. They called themselves the Marauders, proud of the shenanigans the four got up to. You didn’t like them, mainly because you were jealous of them. James Potter was from a pureblood family, but nothing like yours. They were loving and kind. Remus was a half-blood boy that was far too good for this world, and Peter was a half-blood as well who was quiet and reserved. They got along with each other so well, you wondered if that’s where Sirius ran off to. To be with them.

Sirius’ eyes scanned the room, and they landed on his brother Regulus. You knew it must’ve been hard for him to leave his brother behind, but then again they were completely different. Unlike Sirius, Regulus was fully devoted to his work with the Dark Lord. You and him rarely ever spoke, mostly because you thought he may be afraid of you. Sirius turned away and sat down with his friends, but you noticed how every so often he would look towards the Slytherin table. Suddenly he stood up, making some excuse to leave his friends, and headed off down the hallway. You took this as your chance to speak with him, standing up and chasing after him.

“Sirius!” you called after him and he stopped in his tracks, turning around with tears in his eyes. “How are you?” you asked politely. “Good.” he lied to your face, but he knew that you knew how he felt. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, another perk to being a heart renderer. “I— I read the book that you gave to me. The muggle one.” you tried to change the subject, but you couldn’t drop the fact that he was upset. “The poems, they’re really beautiful.” you commented. Sirius only stared at you. “I’m sorry that you’re sad.” you said softly, you always had a way with your words. You knew he was upset about seeing Regulus after months apart, you knew it stung. “I’m saying that because I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad at you for leaving. Not at all.” you explained. You would’ve left too, so why would you ever be mad at him for doing what you couldn’t? “I love you, Sirius.” you breathed out. You didn’t love him in the way many would expect. Sure you had a crush on him as a kid, but you knew the two of you would never work out. You had love for him, though. You held out your hand for him to shake on a deal. “Stay friends?” you asked even though it was a lie. You couldn’t live a double life, that would only put him and yourself in danger. Sirius knew that too. “For life?” he questioned.

You must’ve been ten, maybe eleven— playing in the woods behind your childhood home. You would play there for hours with Sirius. It was a peaceful place, no parents to scold the two of you, just you and him always. You tripped over a rock, hitting your knees on the ground making you cry at the pain. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Sirius comforted you. “For life?” you asked and he nodded. “For life.” he confirmed.

“For life.” you smiled, and he took your hand to shake it. He pulled you in for a hug, signaling he knew it couldn’t happen. You hugged him back, and soon after he pulled away. He stared at you, his eyes flicking between both of yours. He cleared his throat before walking off, leaving you standing alone in the hallway.

—

Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter sat in the room of requirement. The year before Dumbledore recruited them to join the Order, a cause to fight for freedom and away from the grips of the Dark Lord. They had been tasked by Albus to speak with a wizard who worked under Tom Riddle, a man who knew anything and everything about their upcoming plans. The only problem was the Marauders were having a hard time figuring out a plan. Once they reached this man during the fall break, they wondered how they would get him to rat out his boss without force. They never had any ill intention, that included torturing this man into speaking. Well— Remus and James had no ill intent. Sirius understood how evil the Dark Lord was, and he wouldn’t draw the line at anything if it meant taking him down. Peter often agreed with Sirius.

“You know what would make this easier?” Remus asked, turning towards the group with folded arms. “What?” James sighed, rubbing his face in annoyance. They had been going back and forth with ideas for hours. They could dress up in a Death Eater’s uniform and pretend they were on his side, but that wouldn’t work. This man was smart enough to know who was and wasn’t apart of the Death Eaters. They could torture him, but that was off the table. They could simply just ask, but when would that ever work? “If we had a heart render.” Remus shrugged and Sirius shook his head. “Absolutely not, y/n is off the table and there’s no way we’re going to find a heart render in time.” he was quick to speak up.

“Why exactly is she off the table?” Remus had peaked James’ interest. “Because I know her, and her family. Her family is like mine but a million times worse.” Sirius explained. “I don’t know about a million—” Peter mumbled and Sirius shot him a glare, making him go quiet. Everyone stared at Sirius with begging looks. “I’m serious, she works directly under Voldemort. She wouldn’t take the shot to betray him even if she had the chance.” he recalled to when he pleaded with her to go with him, and she wouldn’t. “That’s why she was taught heart render powers from a young age, she was literally born to work for him.” Sirius continued. “It doesn’t help that she’s gorgeous.” James added which earned a punch to his arm from Sirius. “Okay, ouch.” James grumbled.

“Okay, so maybe she was born for it. But let’s look at it from her stand point. I mean she was born and taught by her sadistic mother, traded off like she was nothing. Maybe she had no other choice.” Remus tried to be understanding. Sirius had told them all about your story. James pointed at him with raised eyebrows in agreement. “I mean think about it, Sirius. She’s a pureblood Slytherin girl who chooses not to associate herself with the Death Eaters at this school. Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr. She won’t even look at them. Maybe there’s some good in her.” Remus continued. Sirius scoffed. “Trust me, there’s not.” Sirius mumbled and stood up. “We’ll find another way, but y/n is not it.” Sirius said sternly and they all slowly nodded, all except for James. Soon after everyone went back to their dorm and headed to bed for the night. James laid awake, tossing and turning. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head, you could help them. He had been told no on a multitude of occasions, but when has that ever stopped him?

—

A week had passed and the four boys walked down the hallway after their classes, all heading for the Gryffindor common room. James turned towards them just as they passed the library, spotting you sitting by yourself inside. This was his chance. “I have to go to— bye!” he lied terribly, running off from them. “What was that about?” Peter asked and Remus laughed. “He probably saw Lily or something.” he teased. James rolled his eyes behind them.

James entered the library, hesitantly walking over to you. You were sitting quite peacefully reading your book. James pulled out the chair next to you. “Hello, y/n. Looking as beautiful as ever.” he complimented and you looked up from your book with a confused and annoyed expression. He stared back and after a beat of silence you finally spoke. “Okay.” you sighed, closing your book and grabbing your things to leave. “No wait, you don’t have to leave!” he spoke up and you turned towards him again. “I’m not a fool, Potter. You clearly want something.” you said in detest. “Okay, fine. I want something.” he finally admitted. “What’s that?” you questioned with an annoyed tone. “I want to know more about heart renderers. Everyone says their so bad but— you don’t seem all that bad to me. I’ve never even see you use it against anyone. Or use it at all.” he shrugged. “So what does someone of your nature do?” he asked. “I think you know.” you sighed. “There has to be some good to it, every horrible thing must have a balance.” James almost begged to know.

You finally gave in. “Okay— I can soothe someone’s temper, slow their heart and make them relax. Which clearly you need because I can hear your heart beating loudly.” you pointed out. “You can hear my heart?” he asked curiously. “I can hear everyone’s. Who is this Lily Evans by the way, every time someone says her name your heart beats quickly.” she observed. “Wait— how do you know that?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and finally set down your book. “When you walked in here Remus said Lily Evans, and your heart quickened in pace.” you teased.

“That’s not important.” James mumbled. “If my heart is beating fast then show me how you calm it.” he asked. “Show me how you can get someone to tell you anything just like Sirius says.” James was trying to gain her trust, to show her he wasn’t afraid like everyone else was. “I can’t, I’m not allowed to on school grounds.” you leaned back in your chair. “No one has to know.” James smirked and you stared at him for a second. He wasn’t lying, and he definitely seemed curious about your power. “Give me your hand.” you gave in. James held out his hand palm up. Your slim fingers trailed down his cold hand, everything seemed to suddenly move slow. His heart beat was loud in your ears, and once your fingers reached his wrist and you touched his pulse, it slowed down to a calming rate. “Tell me what you want.” you spoke softly, your buttery smooth voice being the only thing he could hear. He looked into your eyes, before opening his mouth to speak before he even had the chance to stop.

“I need a heart render, give you the chance to do some good in this world.” he answered honestly. You pulled away and thought for a moment. This was your chance, a safe distance away from Tom Riddle and your mother. This was your chance to finally do some good i with your power. You knew you could trust James, Sirius sure did. They were apart of the Order, something you had grown familiar with when Sirius would tell you about it late hours of the night. This whole thing, him needing a heart renderer, had to do with something like that.

“I’m in.”

—

James walked into the room of requirement for their weekly meeting, a proud smile on his face. “I found a heart renderer.” he said confidently. “What? How did you find—” Peter started but was quickly interrupted when you walked in behind him. “Y/N Y/L/N at your service.” you smiled and everyone had a shocked look on their face, Sirius was no exception. “Y/N Y/L/N?” Both Peter and Remus said aloud. You laughed, moving across the room to face all four boys. “I’ve never had that reaction before.” you smiled which quickly faded when you saw the look on Sirius’ face.

“What are you doing here?” he deadpanned. “I’m here to help.” you shrugged. “James here found me in the library and gave me the whole run down on your little issue here.” you looked towards James who still looked incredibly proud at his doings. “What the hell were you thinking, James? She’s dangerous!” Sirius yelled and you looked over at him with a hurt expression. “You didn’t seem to think so when you came to me to calm yourself down.” you exposed him and he glared at you.

“Listen, we could really use her help.” Remus interjected, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean this to come off rude, but how do we know we can trust you?” Peter asked and you looked at him now. “I mean— don’t you work for you know who?” he asked. “It was more like a limited partnership.” you explained without really having to say much. Everyone fell silent. “Listen, if I was really that devoted to Tom Riddle I definitely would not be helping you idiots get valuable information on him. Yet here I stand.” you held out your arms.

“Okay, so say we can trust you. How do we know you won’t rat us out.” Remus asked and you stared at him before sighing. “I have been used by him my whole life, and never have I been given the chance to actually use these abilities for the better benefit of actually helping people. I think the Order can do just that. I know you’re all suspicious of me, maybe you think I’m using my powers on you right now to trick you, but trust me— you would know.”

“She’s right, it’s like a whole other experience.” James laughed and they all turned quickly to look at him. “She used her powers on you?” Sirius asked in shock. “Of course she did, and let me tell you, whatever she did to me will definitely work on that guy we’re trying to talk to.” James defended your case, something you had never experienced before. “Thank you, James. That was really kind.” you smiled and he nodded. “Fine, but after this you’re done.” Sirius was still suspicious.

“Great! When do we start?”

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chuulyssa · 1 month

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🇾🇴🇺 ❜ 🇷🇪 🇸🇴 🇵🇷🇪🇹🇹🇾 , 🇾🇴🇺 ❜ 🇷🇪 🇸🇴 🇵🇴🇵🇺🇱🇦🇷.

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ !

↷ A/N ─ first songfic! I TRIED OKAY??? love this song btw. also i tried to make this as less slutty and more angsty as i could.

★ COUNT ─ 2.1k

!! TAGS ─ f!reader x pm!dazai, reader is in the port mafia, fantasization, dubcon (only kissing), mentions of rape and stuff in the song, angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader is down bad for dazai

this isn't outright smut but there are a few mentions of it in the reader's thoughts, so im putting the mdni sign

★ PROLOGUE ─ he was everything you ever wanted. but would he ever see that?

♬ SONG ─ ecstasy

SMUT, 18+, MDNI

READ ON AO3

You couldn't believe the first time Dazai had kissed you. It felt so unreal, so distant. Your lips had locked in a perfect embrace as if they had been carved just for each other. And then he had pulled away ever so slightly and rested his forehead against yours, telling you how much he loves you.

It had felt like a dream come true. Although you had joined the Port Mafia earlier than him, you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with him.

What was it? A crush? Love? A fantasy? You didn't know, and you didn't care to. All you believed was that you were made for Dazai, and how could you not? His hair would move along with the wind when he would look at you for a bit too long - or so you would think, deluding yourself into the deception of a world where you woke up and fell asleep with his kisses.

I just wanna be your sweetheart Fucking come here, give me your heart

On several occasions you had tried giving him signals - letting him know that you wanted him. That you loved him. That you would listen to him blabber about in bars till dusk. That you would stroke his hair and tell him that he was perfect in every way possible if you had the courage. That you would be with him even if you were the only one standing.

"Earth to Y/N?" Dazai snaps his fingers in front of you, yanking you away from your thoughts.

"Yeah?" you said, slightly flustered.

"As I was saying, we have to first infiltrate the organization from the inside. It will be a bit difficult since it's just the two of us-"

The two of us.

Us.

Your mind began to slip away from Dazai again as you thought about the possibility of you and Osamu Dazai becoming "us" and "we". It was blissful. Your eyes began looking glossy, and he probably noticed, because he sighed and shook his head before ruffling your hair.

You came crashing down to earth again.

Just you and me to infinity I can't fucking breathe, too much ecstasy

On your way to the mission, your eyes kept glancing at him. He looked so pretty, with his hair cascading down in front of his eye in the most perfect manner, and his bandaged hands making your knees wobbly as you imagined how they would feel on your thighs, slowly inching towards your core.

The thought made you shiver, and you stumbled slightly. Dazai spared you a look of concern.

"Are you sure you're okay? I could handle them alone if you want."

"I'm alright. I can do this," you smiled softly at him. Yes, I can do this, you thought, I can do this because I'm with you.

He was your motivation, your burning desire. He was your ray of happiness in the cruel world. He was everything you had ever wanted in life.

The two of you made it to the front of the organization's immaculate house, where a party was being held. The mission was simple; get into the party in disguise and kill a few easy targets. You hadn't paid much attention to Mori's instructions anyway, for your eyes had looked at nothing other than Dazai, heart leaping with joy at the thought of being partnered with him again.

Dazai put a hand on the small of your back, and you felt goosebumps arise. He guided you into the party after giving you a small nod, and you interlocked your arms with his.

You met a few people here and there; none that you cared about. All you focused on tonight - and probably every night since you had first met him - was him. His face. His body. His voice. His laughter. His expressions. His jokes. Him. He was perfect.

Kiss me on the lips, choke me on the floor Drag me around, and push me right against your door

The night continued on, and there was only Dazai in your mind. You couldn't get him out at all, not when he was right in front of you, forehead against yours and about to kiss you. You felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving only you and Dazai in a bubble of your own.

You held your breath as you waited for all your dreams to finally come true.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, and you felt dizzy from anticipation. Time seemed to stand still as you forced your eyes to be on his. Your heart raced in your chest, matching the frantic beat of the music pulsing in the distance from the party you had left to complete your mission.

Oh. Right. Mission.

How could you forget? How foolish of you to think that this was real. The targets you were designated to kill wouldn't want Port Mafia members in the corridor you were currently in. This was all just a show to maintain your cover.

The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, shattering all your anticipation from before. You tore your gaze away from him, and his fingers immediately went up to clutch your jaw.

"Do you trust me?"

You were silent.

"Close your eyes."

You did, and he put his lips on yours tenderly, as if you were made of glass and could break by the slightest pressure. You felt like crying. You had wanted him to kiss you for so long, and here he was, kissing you as if you weren't supposed to catch feelings for him right then and there - as if he was completely okay if you were ruined because of him.

Dazai's fingers slid from your jaw to your neck, caressing it softly before changing the pace of his kisses. They felt more passionate, but were they, really? This was all a facade. This didn't mean anything to him. Anything at all.

I'm your little doll, come and play with me Dyeing all my hair, we could be in the scene

The car ride back home was silent. Dazai had a few stains of blood on the black collar of his coat - none his, thankfully - yet he drove like he hadn't just murdered some people.

You sighed. Yes, the Port Mafia wasn't a place for feelings, and Dazai knew that perfectly well. You had finally realized that Dazai was nothing but a cold person who had no remorse, no guilt, no emotions at all while he toyed with others.

You had given away nearly half of the life you had lived up till now for him. You had given away all of yourself. You had changed yourself as much as you could. You had listened to everything he would tell you. You had done everything you could yet here you were, eyes burning as you struggled to keep them open so you didn't end up breaking down in front of the very person who was breaking you every second of this long ride.

When you reached the door to your house, you gave him a little wave, and he looked hesitant.

"Can I stay over for tonight?"

Every muscle in your body screamed at you to say no, to tell him to fuck off, maybe even punch him and shatter a few bones so he knows what it's like to be broken. Instead, you resorted to nodding lowly, not a word escaping your lips as you unlocked the door, kicked off your shoes and walked into your room, locking it from inside.

How dare he after what he did to you? How could he? Was he that heartless? Was he really how people had described him to be? Cold, ruthless and merciless? You thought you knew better, but did you?

Your legs gave in and you sunk to the floor, your back against the door. Why did he have to kiss you? Why did you agree to this stupid mission? Why did you ever fall for this man?

Lights out, you don't tap out You're so crazy, manipulate me

"Y/N?"

You immediately wiped your face on your pillow and got up to go to the living room where he sat. Tonight, for the first time in your life, Dazai was nothing but a guest to you. Not a crush. Not your love at first sight. Nothing. Just a colleague.

"I heard you. I thought you might need a drink," he offered you one, and you slowly took it from him.

You stared at the bottle of wine on the table. He had probably ordered it just now. It was an expensive one, not one you usually drank. Well, you weren't much of a drinker anyway. But tonight, maybe you could drink a little, to drown your sorrows with the very man who caused them.

The room was dimly lit, and faint moonlight formed a few odd shapes on the floor. The two of you sat drinking, and while Dazai seemed sober enough, you were already almost wasted.

"Listen," Dazai said suddenly as if he had finally made up his mind to say something. "I wanted to ask. Did that kiss mean anything to you?"

"What kiss?" you acted dumb. You didn't need to be reminded of that, not right now in your most vulnerable state.

"Don't play dumb with me, Y/N," he said sternly. "You know exactly what I mean."

You pursed your lips. "Yeah, I do. Answer that question yourself first."

"It did. A lot."

What?

You stared at him. Was this another way to break your heart even more? Was he toying with you again? Yes, this had to be another one of his manipulation tricks. But somewhere, in the corner of your heart, a tiny voice said, the Dazai I know isn't like that. He would never do something like that.

And you felt your defences crumbling all over again. You didn't care if he manipulated you and left you heartbroken as long as you got to be with him for some part of your life. You loved him. Loved.

Fucking chase me, fucking break me You're my everything, please just rape me

For the second time that night, Dazai's hands were on you. Only this time, you were happy. You wanted him. You needed him. And so you kissed him back with all your might.

You couldn't think straight at all. You couldn't feel him stand up and carry you to your bed. You couldn't see him covering the two of you with blankets to kiss you under its privacy. All you knew was that you were in his arms, and wanted to stay that way forever.

Osamu Dazai was kissing you. The Osamu Dazai. Osamu the-Youngest-Executive-in-the-History-of-the-Port-Mafia Dazai. Was this real? You didn't know. All you wanted was for the moment to go on forever.

You pulled away once more to catch your breath. On top of you, Dazai was panting too, brushing away hair from your eyes and blowing air on your face gently. You were sweating from the heat of the moment. His breath felt cool and cold, but his touch was warm, just like you had fantasized it to be.

"What are we?" you asked.

"Everything."

I just wanna be your sweetheart Fucking come here, give me your heart

You woke up as curtained sunlight hit your face, blinking at the sensation to try and keep your eyes open. A slight shift in your position made you feel Dazai against your chest, his face buried sideways and lips in a small pout.

Your eyes widened as you realized the events of the previous night. It was real. You two were official. You were dating Osamu Dazai.

Your movement had caused Dazai to purr lightly, his voice making your brain numb. Assuming he was tired, you patted his head, still in disbelief over your fortune and merely resorted to staring at the ceiling. You didn't want to wake him up. The feeling of him getting so cozy and vulnerable with you made you want to stay still like that forever.

How could someone be so pretty? So endearing? What must it be like to be that beautiful? To be someone's will to live? To be someone's first laugh and smile? How was it that someone could capture your heart this way? You felt a whirlwind of emotions; pathetic, romantic, love, disbelief. You felt everything as you stared at his sleeping figure, chest heaving up and down to match his heart beat.

You could almost feel him take your breath away. God, you loved him so bad.

Just you and me to infinity I can't fucking breathe, too much ecstasy

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sehodreams · 2 months

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last day surprises

TW and Tags: slasher!Wonbin, mentions of violent acts (death of a character), heavy dubcon/almost noncon (well... hard to explain), dark!riize, blowjob, p in v, no condom.

WC: 3.4k

Summary: Wonbin swore he had changed, he was better, he had a job he liked, and he had met you, so why did you have to ruin everything?

Comment: don't you hate when I'm such a cunt? having a thousand unfinished drafts I decided to write something nobody asked for. I just wrote this because I NEEDED TO WRITE SOMETHING TO NOT LOSE MY MIND, I've been swamped with work so I wanted to relax a bit, it's something I did pretty quick so it probably has inconsistencies and grammar mistakes (when have I done a fic with perfect grammar in first place?).

Breathing as silently as you could, you watched the shadows moving in the dim light of the night that trespassed the curtains of your room.

Tears were still flooding and your shoulders were shaking, but you couldn’t do anything about it, even if you tried to force yourself to stop, they kept moving on their own, and the only thing you could do was bite your lip and cover your mouth with the palm of your hand, praying with open eyes that god, if there was even one, helped you and let you live at least one more day.

One more day and your cab would go for you in the morning, just like you had planned with your best friend the day before.

The thumb of his steps over the hardwood kept tricking your mind into believing he was far away from the closet you were hiding in, and you had thought that perhaps God had given you the gift of protecting you, but he was the one making the decisions at that moment, he was playing God, and he wasn’t as kind.

If only your friend had never teased him. If only she had listened to you and had left him alone. If only.

‘’You’re too noisy’’ he opened the door and you tried to close it back immediately, nails almost breaking from how much force you were using to not let the door go, gripping on it to not let him in (or to not let him drag you out).

‘’I didn’t do anything’’ you cried and did your best to fight him, ‘’I swear I never laughed’’.

‘’Don’t lie to me’’ the same hand that prepared your cold drinks when you woke up, that carried your bags and held the door open for you when you arrived now held it to stop you from closing it, ‘’I saw you, you were laughing with her, you’re just like her’’.

‘’Wonbin, I never laughed at you, I swear, I always treated you good’’ you tried to make him remember, ‘’We talked a lot, don’t you remember? I told you about my family, and my job, and my home.’’

Your voice waved with every word that left your mouth, and when you thought he was finally weakening, he used more of his strength to create a bigger gap between the door and the frame, enough for one of his arms to enter and grab one of your wrists and tighten it to hurt you.

You hissed, trying to shake him off, but it was useless, and soon, when he got tired of your little game, he completely pulled the door open, pulling you with the same strength and rage, grabbing your hair instead of your wrist, dragging you out of your cave.

‘’Liar’’ he repeated with his stern voice, full of hate, and with a touch of what seemed like pain and deception. ‘’You’re just like her, and you’ll end up just like her’’.

His grip on your scalp made your head burn, and you closed your eyes and cried his name when he dragged you to his feet.

Not knowing what else to say, you don’t know why you said it, but you didn’t have many options to ponder, so you said the first thing that came to your mind ‘’I-I never agreed with her, I thought you were cute, I think you are cute, really’’.

You felt the weight of your words on your head, when his hand debilitated for a second, and you felt a light of hope illuminating you, the same ray of light that infiltrated between the curtains and that told you how late it was.

‘’Then why aren’t you looking at me?’’ he asked, tugging even harder your hair, making you yelp in pain before you answered.

‘’I’m- I’m’’ I’m scared, you wanted to say, but you knew it would make him angrier. ‘’I’m sorry’’.

You opened your eyes, looking at his feet first, dirty brown shoes covering them, to then move your eyes up, passing through his dark pants, and his silver black belt, arriving at where you were trying to avoid when you closed your eyes.

His shirt still had your friend’s blood drenching its front, and you could even distinguish the prints of her hands when she tried to push him away.

His green-striped shirt was the last thing your friend teased him for, telling him how he looked like a creep when you two arrived from your night walk.

You saw how his eyes were different after she left the comment in the air, and you had no idea why, but all your instincts said he wasn’t in the mood for it, so you quickly pushed her inside when he opened the door for you, telling her with your eyes to shut up when she lifted one of his eyebrows at your attitude.

But she never listened.

Hours later when the lights went out in your shared room, she decided to go to the first floor of the old cabin to leave a piece of her mind one last time before the two of you left first hour the next morning.

‘’Can’t believe I paid so much for this shithole’’ your friend said, leaving you alone while you took a shower, wait for me, you screamed under the water, but she was already gone when you finished getting dressed in the darkness.

You found your phone as you could in the obscure room and turned on your flashlight to walk down the stairs and search for her.

Five minutes later, after calling her name numerous times, receiving no answer from her, inside the kitchen, you saw her body on the floor, blood pooling around her and dirtying your sandals, liquid touching your feet and starling you with the wet sensation before you illuminated her and saw her lifeless eyes.

You screamed and your phone slipped from your hands, falling to the pond and splashing the red fluids to your bare legs with the fall.

His steps, because of the shoes he wore all the time, boots perfect for the woods but heavy on the floor, made soundly thuds, indicating how close he was to you.

Running to one of the single rooms on the first floor, you tried to hide from whoever was out there, but deep inside, you knew who did it.

And you weren’t wrong, your hunch, as almost always, was right.

Your hunch had told you to treat him good, to sweetly say good morning and ramble about the weather and other things you saw with your friend while he prepared breakfast and she got dressed for the day.

Wonbin wasn’t exactly bad at the start, he was just… different.

He never smiled when you two arrived, he didn’t even dare to maintain eye contact, and when you talked with him sometimes you felt you were talking more to the air than to a person, but there was something inside you that pushed you to be overly nice to him, perhaps the same thing that pushed your friend to treat him like shit.

‘’You’re still not looking at me’’ his voice interrupted the memories of you telling your friend to not treat him like that, and you had to move your eyes from the stain on his shirt to his face.

His blonde dry hair seemed lighter at night, almost white, and you sobbed when your eyes inspected his face and a drop of his own blood dripped down his cheek because of a scratch.

It definitely was product of your friend’s manicure, nails always long and sharp enough to cut skin, she once even hurt you when you tried to hold her hand while you were walking through a tough area in the woods and she tripped over one of the many rocks, so it wasn’t hard to deduce how he got that cut there.

‘’I’m sorry Wonbin, I’m sorry’’ you didn’t know what you were apologizing for, it was the only sentence that came out of you.

‘’How sorry are you?’’ he replied to your constant mumbles.

You couldn’t answer, how sorry were you? You didn’t do anything at all, you shouldn’t even feel like that, but there you were, on your knees, with his hand on your hair, his eyes looking down at you, and your heart flinching of fear.

‘’Show me how sorry you are’’ he continued.

The same hand holding you in place pushed your face to his crotch, a bulge was already there, and your breath hitched when you understood what he wanted.

‘’I never- I’ve never done it’’ you sobbed, palms over his thighs to stop your chest from touching him.

Your cheek was pressing his zipper, which felt cold and slightly painful against the soft skin of your face.

‘’I never let anyone free either, there’s a first time for everything’’ he answered, both hands now resting over your head and pressing you to give him what he wanted.

He smelled earthy, like the wet puddles near the river, and you somehow found yourself inhaling the aroma again, to maintain you sane and ignore the stronger smell of your friend’s blood in his shirt had.

With shaky hands you pulled down the zipper, the sound extremely notorious in the quiet house, and your sobs were quickly silenced with his cock intruding your mouth.

He let you take your time with it, sighing with the superficial licks you gave to his shaft, letting you get used to it before he ordered you to open your mouth enough to accept him inside.

At least he wasn’t rough, his hand wasn’t a grip on your hair anymore from the moment he made obvious his needs, posing on the back of your head and even caressing it while guiding you.

Not daring to interrupt the sudden softness he had with you, you let him use you, as if you were only an object for him to satisfy himself, and it was wrong, but you found yourself not hating it.

Your brain turned off for a second, a line of saliva escaping your lips when he pulled out and pushed back in with a deep thrust, making you dizzy with his flavor, and an unrecognizable pressure started to build in your abdomen.

Tears kept rolling down your cheeks, it was horrendous how you were giving the first blowjob of your life to your friend’s killer, and it was even worse that you weren’t dying to push him away from your face.

‘’Shit’’ he exhaled when you started to move your head on your own, choking yourself with his length and gripping on his pants with the pressure traveling from the pitch of your abdomen to your cunt. ‘’You like sucking cock, uh? Were you lying when you said you had never done it before too?’’

You stopped for a second, wrapping one of your hands to the base of his cock to move it up and down while you talked. ‘’I’m not a liar’’ you defended yourself.

You never lied, you did think Wonbin was cute.

Even with his terrible outfits, his ugly straw-like hair and his awkward attitude, he gave you unusual amounts of attention you had enjoyed, like always receiving you with fresh juice when you walked down the stairs and preparing bags with things you might need in the forest.

Your friend had noticed it too, saying how it was his job and for you to not get swayed, he was only the service there, and the treatment you received wasn’t anything special, but you knew why she was like that, resentful, because she wasn’t the one receiving it, and you, her fat friend, were doing it when it should be her.

Grabbing you by the hair again, he dragged you to the only bed in the room, covered by a clean set of bedsheets, laid flawlessly by him, without a single wrinkle in sight, until he tossed you over them and ruined the perfect image he had created.

He felt you were sincere when you said you weren’t a liar, but how could you think he was cute? No one had ever called him that, saying how his face was frightening instead, with those big eyes and his forever dark gaze studying them, hating his equally black hair so much that he decided to dye it to avoid those comments.

It didn’t work, they said how he looked even more like a freak now, and he thought he had left those violent responses well behind in his life, until your friend appeared and broke him again.

She wasn’t the only one breaking him though, you had played a significant part in his mind wanting to repeat past patterns, he even swore he could’ve ignored her if you hadn’t laughed that day.

It was just hours ago, before your daily walk, that he recognized the gray clouds gathering in the sky, and that his body moved on his own, running to give you one of the raincoats he had stored for emergencies. He gave you the coat with a small smile, and you accepted it with a wide one, making him feel something warm install in his chest, making him weak for you.

He thought you were different, and then he heard you laughing when your friend called him an idiot, finishing the job your friend had started so eagerly since you two arrived there.

You had laughed because you thought he was adorable.

‘’Take your shorts off’’ he ordered, watching you stay still in the bed, tears flooding and your hands shaking on your sides. ‘’I’m getting tired of you not listening.’’

You heard him clear, and not wanting to see what he would do when he got fed up with your behavior, your hands tucked down your baby blue pajama shorts.

When you watched them slide down your legs you saw how little red dots appeared on the fabric and the dry blood scrap down like old paint.

His hands were clean, unlike his clothes, so it was probably he was washing them when you walked down the stairs.

They felt cold over your thighs when he made you open your legs for him, and you shivered for the sensation of his big palms touching your large thighs.

He put force into his grip to see how deep into your skin he could go, thinking how good it would feel to sink into your bare skin.

Moving your panties to the side, he was welcomed by your shiny entrance leaking for him. ‘’Fuck, are you enjoying this?’’ he asked, happily surprised by your excitement, ‘’You’re even sicker than me.’’

You didn’t like that affirmation, but you didn’t want to deny anything to him anymore.

His thumb grazed your clit teasingly, enjoying how the little bud jumped in front of his eyes and you shook from something else than fear.

You would rather die than admit it, but it felt good.

‘’You like it so much’’ he said more to himself, showing you the first wide smile you had ever seen from him since you got to that place.

He licked his thumb and groaned at your flavor, admiring you there for a good minute. Your hair was ruffled, your gleamy eyes were looking at his, and your chest was moving up and down, making your hard nipples noticeable through the white t-shirt you wore to sleep. When he saw you wearing your pajama a couple of days earlier, you keeping him company while he made your breakfast, he had salivated more to the picture of your round unsupported chest calling for him to taste them than to the fresh food in his hands.

Now that he had you dripping for him, pussy clenching around nothing, waiting for him to touch it again, he pushed his middle and ring finger inside you.

Knuckles deep, he felt his cock twitching every time you moaned his name when he shoved his fingers with force in and out, biting his lip to not moan at the feeling of you making a mess in his hands.

‘’Fuck-fuck’’ you let your head fall, and you should’ve wanted him to stop, but you were so close to your orgasm, you closed your eyes to ignore the reality of the moment, permitting him to touch you, only begging to cum inside your mind.

His hands pushing your legs up made you aware of your surroundings again.

You couldn’t even ask him what he was doing when he plunged inside you, sliding his cock without any kind of signal, forcing your walls open to accept his length.

It was a pain you had never felt before, a good pain, but the stretch had burned a little, making you whine as a response.

He, on the other hand, sighed of relief, shuddering at the long-missed sensation of a warm real person accepting him.

Messily moving his hips, he didn’t wait for you to get used to him, and he thrusted as deep as he could, completely bottoming out, making you slightly bounce in the bed with each hard smack.

Your skin and his were creating a loud echo inside the room and you moaned his name with how good he was fucking you.

You honestly would’ve enjoyed it so much, free of guilt, if he hadn’t done that. You would’ve even pulled him closer to you if only your friend’s blood wasn’t drenching your t-shirt too.

‘’Take it off’’ your fingers tried to reach for the hem of his shirt, but he kept with his rhythm, groaning with your velvet walls perfectly wrapping him, ‘’please, please.’’

The begging was hot too, but he didn’t want to do it, so he only stopped his movements to take yours off instead.

You lifted your arms for him, and when he had the impure fabric in his hands, he decided to clean some of the sweat accumulating in his forehead with it, tossing it to the floor when he finished.

He looked strangely handsome when he did it, like a normal man you would’ve met in the city, maybe in a club or a bar, one of the kind that usually ignored you to dance with your friend.

But he was with you that night, and you cried when he went back to fucking you, remembering that he wasn’t just any man, making you feel even dirtier with his wet shirt sticking to your abdomen.

It was on purpose, he couldn’t hide it, the amused breath he let out told you how much he wanted to taint you too.

Launching to your breast, he rocked into you while his mouth maintained itself busy with your nipples, taking turns with his hand, making eye contact until you felt the past interrupted orgasm coming back.

He looked so drunk with your chest and your cunt, you couldn’t help but moan louder when the same hand playing with your nipple went down, pushing its way between his solid abdomen and your soft tummy, until it found your clit.

You were already clamping his cock when he started to play with your clit, and he left your chest to moan on your mouth when you cried and writhed under him.

Spreading your legs wider, you didn’t care that his shirt felt disgusting against your skin anymore, or that his steaming breath was directly falling in your open mouth, you simply wanted to cum.

His mouth joined yours when you said his name one more time, a broken Wonbin that made him weak once again, pressing his lips against yours while his hips rutted harder into you to help you obtain your well-deserved orgasm.

He came not much after, letting all in your insides, painting you with his cum to mark you.

You were his the minute you smiled at him and said his hair was pretty the first morning of your stay.

‘’One time is not enough to earn my forgiveness’’ he said, and you eagerly nodded.

You convinced yourself that, when you straddled his lap, it was because you wanted to live, and that it had nothing to do with the fact that he had made you cum for the first time in your life and how you wanted to feel it again.

The next morning you woke up with his weight sinking in the mattress and his hand moving your hair out of your face, making you open your eyes to see him staring at you with a tenderness you had never seen before. He was wearing a clean change of clothes, but with a particularly weird aroma, like the smoke after a campfire.

‘’It’s raining, roads are closed until it stops’’ he murmured to not startle you, ‘’sorry honey’’ he finished, and you closed your eyes, tired of thinking, only praying that your cab didn’t ask you to reschedule, because you doubted he hadn’t burned your things too.

#riize x plus size reader #riize x reader #riize smut #dark!riize #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #please read tw

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celluloidbroomcloset · 4 months

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I think about Stede seeing Ed’s face without a beard for the first time. He's getting hit with reality after living so long in this fantasy world. Mary has declared him dead. He’s not a pirate anymore. He's a prisoner. Then he sees Ed's full face for the first time and it shocks him.

Stede has a complicated relationship with Blackbeard, as the pirate that he idolized and then the man that he actually knows. Ed shaving his beard reveals what Stede already knew but what he perhaps had not fully come to terms with—that Ed is a man, and that the legend can be shorn away quickly. It frightens Stede in part because it brings home the reality of what’s happening. He thinks he has destroyed Blackbeard (which in many ways he has) and ruined something that he loved.

When he says “you can’t be Blackbeard without your black…beard…” Ed seems to take this as him commenting on the beard itself, but it's more about how Stede has perceived Ed and a good bit about Stede's self-deception. The beard still separated them; it maintained the illusion of Blackbeard, and as long as it was there, Stede kept hold of some fantasy elements—that what was happening wasn't real. Now he's looking at Ed for the first time and he has to see Ed for who he is.

But the Ed both Stede and the viewer see is an Ed that’s momentarily free. His expression is open and innocent, and his voice has grown quieter and even. He’s finding a calm completely disconnected from Blackbeard. He’s not subdued or cowed; he’s happy to be with Stede, and happy to not be performing.

The beach scene isn’t just about that first tentative declaration of love, but all the feelings that Stede has been experiencing becoming real. Ed is Ed. There is no more Blackbeard playing dress up, or treasure hunts for petrified oranges. That kiss is real—it’s not a game or something that can be explained as pure friendship. The rush of reality terrifies Stede, which then culminates in Chauncey’s attempted execution of him. So when he runs, he’s running back to a reality that he knows, even if it was entrapping him and slowing killing him. It’s less frightening than the feelings that he has and the reality he's having to face.

I keep coming back to “His name is Ed” because it is such a poignant moment, and in this context it's also Stede awakening to reality and no longer fearing it. Mary would know who Blackbeard is, but Stede never mentions that name to her. What he says is that he’s in love with a man named Ed—that the man he met on the Revenge is Ed, the man who kissed him on the beach is Ed, the man he's in love with is Ed. And Ed is the person that makes Stede happy.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #edward teach #gentlebeard #ofmd meta #gif

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shanniethewr · 9 months

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"so love me. show me that you mean it."

"pardon?" lyney said, wide eyes speaking volumes of his bewilderment. you stood in front of him, remaining unfazed as the two of you spoke in the empty backstage of the opera epiclese, where no one would disturb the conversation you two held.

"you said you love me, didn't you?" purple clashes with yours, "yet you kept so many things from me... to think you'd be part of the fatui out of every organization...!" your voice trembled, so did your hands as your nails dug against your palms. lyney wanted to speak, his lips moved yet no voice could be heard.

"you promised to fix things between us... you promised to heal me, to gain back my trust! but after the events lately, i don't think it's possible to trust you again so easily." lyney's voice came, "i- i know... and i know that an apology wouldn't fix things so easily..."

tears adorned your eyes, threatening to fall yet you don't let yourself shed a tear. "so show me that you mean it. no more lies, no more deception... i don't want the lyney who had kept so much from me. i don't want the lyney who wasn't the actual lyney i knew to the point i questioned every aspect of our relationship if it was genuine or not."

"and i don't want us back if you don't trust me enough to tell me everything about you like i trusted you wholeheartedly with my life on the line..."

lyney stood frozen in front of you, a myriad of emotions ran wild to the point he wasn't able to identify the suffocating feeling he was experiencing. you were his rose, his beloved rose. but all roses have thorns, and your thorns have crushed his heart in your hold.

but you were right, to an extent that all lyney wished was to go back and make everything right, to show that he actually loves you. but time was irreversible, and he shouldn't be wishing to fix the broken past, as fixing the shattered pieces of diamond was nearly impossible.

he should be fixing the present, his and your relationship.

lyney remembered it like yesterday, the order he received from his "father" to watch you, observe you, and to deceive you.

he remembered nothing but the mission in mind, to him, you were nothing but a task, a job lyney had to finish.

the interactions, conversations, and moments you two shared slowly increased to something becoming more frequent. yet to lyney, all he had in mind was his "father's" mission.

and like the quick flow of time, like clockwork, your relationship became more than just prey and predator. to lyney, you began to be more than just a task, a mission.

a friend, a loved one.

and suddenly, like the quick turn of pages in a book, you two became so much more than a close friend. lips on lips, skin on skin. loving affirmations were exchanged and the cob had found its pen, two lovers resembling those of swans, genuine and beautiful.

but everything went too quick, the prophecy, the primordial sea, the serial disappearances of young women, and the trial. and lyney faces the broken string of his and your relationship, the very thing he feared and wished for it to become nothing but a fleeting thought, a fleeting nightmare.

"i promise i will, no matter what. to me, you are my rose, my beloved. i didn't want things to end up like this but as they say, the harsh truth will all come to light. i'm... i'm so sorry and i know i deserve this but i will do everything to fix us... i cannot bear the thought of us no longer being together but i promise... i promise that i will do it, to fix this mess. so, please... trust me like you've always had and i'll tell you everything, trust me and i'll show that i truly, truly love you."

lyney didn't even noticed the tears that cascaded down his cheeks, smudging the tear drop on his cheek as his shoulders trembled. archons, he just wished everything was normal, all lyney wished was to have everything back to how it was before. he would do anything, anything to have you back in his arms.

moments felt like hours, years even. but lyney gasped upon feeling your arms wrap around him, feeling your tears on his chest as you too, weep.

with hesitance, lyney pulled you into a tight embrace, having no intention of letting go soon as you two quietly cried in each other's arms.

tonight, after a stunning magic show was spent in the empty backstage where the dam had broken along with two lotuses emerging after, a symbol of two lovers getting back up, far stronger and beautiful than ever.

you can't separate two swans who had become each other's mates after all.

( lowercase intended + not proofread )

do NOT copy or plagiarize my work!!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #x reader #reader insert #genshin lyney #lyney #lyney x reader #fontaine #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios

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queerfables · 9 months

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The Rules of the Twist

Given the themes of deception and sleight of hand in Good Omens season 2, I think most of us agree it's at least possible there's some kind of twist waiting to be revealed in season 3. We're bouncing around a lot of theories, but I wanted to take a step back and look at the general shape of what we might expect.

The big twist we've seen before in Good Omens is Crowley and Aziraphale's body swap. (Okay, technically it was an appearance swap. But that just doesn't sound as pithy.) Rather than anticipate an exact repeat of this trick, I'm considering the swap as a sort of model. What does it tell us about the rules Neil plays by when he pulls a twist in this story? What clues can we expect, and what can we not count on? Sure, there's no guarantee that a season 2 twist is going to map exactly onto what we've seen in the past, but I think it's a reasonable place to start. Take these as guidelines and take them with a grain of salt, but if you're sorting through all our fascinating Good Omens theories and trying to decide what you think, you might find them helpful.

So then, what are the rules?

Broadly speaking, Neil plays fair with twists. He foreshadows and includes enough hints for the audience to make a reasonable guess at what's going on, or at least to look back after the reveal and go, "oh, of course". But he still keeps some cards close to the chest.

During the body swap, there are two big gaps in the information we're given:

Key events happen off screen The swap happened between scenes, during a time that it was only suggested, not confirmed, that Crowley and Aziraphale would be together. The transition between these scenes also used film and tv conventions to make that passage of time "invisible" - we see Crowley and Aziraphale get on the bus, and then we see them in the morning going about their days separately, and we're conditioned to think nothing important could have happened in between.

Key tools (eg abilities, items, information) haven't been shown before The swap was not something we'd ever seen Crowley and Aziraphale do, and it wasn't something they'd ever talked about either. It fit comfortably into the established world building but it hadn't been specifically signposted as a possibility.

The other big twist that Good Omens pulled was the romance between Gabriel and Beelzebub as the explanation for Gabriel's disappearance from heaven. Both of these information gaps are involved here too. The offscreen event is obviously the meetings between Gabriel and Beelzebub that lead to them falling in love - up until Gabriel's flashback sequence, the only indication they'd ever met each other was a brief conversation at the airbase during Armageddon. The tool that we haven't seen before is Beelzebub's ability to create a fly vessel for Gabriel's memories (protecting him in much the same way that Crowley and Aziraphale protected each other with their body swap, in fact).

These are pretty big gaps, really. And given that Neil knew there'd be years between seasons 2 and 3, I expect he would have leaned pretty heavily into them if he wanted to hide something. So how do we predict a twist if we can't know where it is and haven't seen what it might involve?

Unanswered questions

This is the big one. Looking at where the furniture isn't, you might say.

What's interesting is that the questions that point to a twist aren't usually subtle or ambiguous. For the body swap, the two converging questions were: what did Agnes' last prophecy mean, and how could Crowley and Aziraphale survive their executions? In season two, some of the unanswered questions signposting Gabriel/Beelzebub were: how did Gabriel lose his memory, why was he carrying a box, what was the significance of the song he kept singing, who was he at the Resurrectionist with...

I think guesses about upcoming twists are most convincing when they seek to tie up loose threads from the show. For this reason, I'm a little skeptical of theories proposing the kiss between Crowley and Aziraphale involved some kind of twist. It isn't impossible, I just don't see any unanswered questions there. (Savvy readers may note that I too have speculated about a twist hidden in the kiss. I do find the possibility fun, but it's not a theory I'm seriously committed to). If I was going to really buy into one of these theories, I'd want it to explain one of my big unanswered questions other than "but how could they get into a fight that hurts me so deep in my soul?" That's definitely a question I have, but not technically a mystery.

It's worth noting that in the case of the body swap, we were initially given a false answer to the question "how did they survive their executions?" The angels and demons watching attribute it to Crowley and Aziraphale having "gone native", believing that their natures had fundamentally changed, making them immune to holy water and hellfire. It might be the case, then, that some of the apparently resolved questions this season warrant further investigation. Is there more to the story of Gabriel's disappearance than we know, for example?

2. Unexplained details

If examining an unanswered question is looking at where the furniture isn't, then this is where we take all the pieces of furniture piled up in storage and see if we've got anything that fits. Everything is fair game here: script, acting, music, props, sets, costumes, editing, camera angles, audio effects, visual effects, everything. If it's on the screen or coming through the speakers, it was put there on purpose by multiple teams of highly skilled and attentive creators all working together to create the final product.

I think you could probably do an entire meta on all the little details pointing towards the season 1 body swap, but here are some of the big ones:

"Crowley" sees the restored Bentley, but takes a taxi instead of driving it

"Aziraphale" circles "Crowley" when they order their ice creams, the way Crowley more typically moves around Aziraphale

"Crowley" says "tickety boo", an extraordinarily Aziraphalean phrase

The collar on "Crowley's" jacket is a beige tartan rather than its usual red

There are general differences in the ways David Tennant and Michael Sheen embody the characters throughout the swap

Similarly, Gabriel and Beelzebub's romance has lots of small details pointing to it. The big one that keeps showing up is the connection between Gabriel and flies. He mentions them and interacts with them repeatedly, and although it isn't obvious at first glance, there's a fly in the box that he carries to the bookshop. This all culminates in the reveal that it's the same fly, Beelzebub's gift to him.

Here's the problem, of course: if everything in the show is intentional and crafted with meticulous attention to detail, how do we know what actually matters? This is why I think it's so important to look at the unanswered questions first. There's a joy in seeking out Easter eggs and connecting all the dots, and sometimes you might strike gold this way, but there's also a lot of noise in the signal. It's helpful to know the general shape of what you're looking for, so you'll know when you've found it.

You can reverse engineer this. Start with details that jump out at you and then look for a puzzle they might explain. This works, but it's a little easier to get lost in the weeds, struggling to sort out what's significant and what's a fun reference to another piece of media or a hint to a question that's already been resolved. Going back to the twists we've already seen on this show, the unanswered questions around them were really big and obvious, so I think it's a good idea to ask: if I hadn't noticed this detail, would I have thought this was a mystery that needed solving?

Okay, but what do we do with this?

Well, maybe nothing. These criteria can't confirm or rule out any theories, after all. I'm laying it out like a rubric but it isn't really, I'm just describing a few storytelling patterns we've seen before and making some rough guesses about how they might show up again. If I were really serious about this I'd probably take a look at other examples of Neil's work and see how well my model holds up there, but the truth is I'm not really familiar with enough of his other works to do this. (Confession time: I was always more of a Pratchett fan).

The main reason that I've laid everything out like this is it informs my thinking when I stress test my own theories, and I figured other people might be interested in it. I'm also hoping it will help me to be able to refer back to this when I write meta in the future. For my own purposes, I find a breakdown like this helpful because it gives me a sense of how a writer approaches their story, where they'll tip their hand and where they'll hold things close. It's no guarantee and it wouldn't be any fun if it was, but in a lot of cases we're not aware of our own patterns, so it can be surprisingly illuminating.

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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lassieposting · 3 months

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Absolutely obsessed with the ecosystem and interpersonal political implications going on in Poppy Playtime right now, like.

What we have in the Playtime Co factory is a society made up of creatures who were all, at one point, human. And while it's stated that the experiments have varying levels of intelligence and ability to recall their former lives, we know that a lot of them, if not all of them, retained at least some of their humanity post-transformation. For example:

Most of the experiments are angry, resentful and vengeful towards Playtime Co - they understand they have been wronged, and they are capable of holding grudges.

Poppy and the Prototype seem to have the same end goals (putting a stop to the experiments and saving the innocents being used in them), but diametrically opposing views on how to go about achieving them (the Prototype is a gritty realist who knows no war was ever won without bloodshed and is willing to cause collateral damage in the name of his cause, where Poppy is far more idealistic, moderate and morally opposed to/upset by the deaths of the Playtime Co employees). This dispute has escalated far enough that the Prototype apparently shut Poppy away before the Hour of Joy could begin, and Poppy now wants the Prototype dead for what she sees as a crime equal in atrocity to Playtime Co's - they are able to understand ideologies, have ideological disagreements, and strategise against each other.

Huggy Wuggy, who seems to be only slightly more intelligent than a predatory animal, can still write, and uses the ability to try to guide fleeing prey in the wrong direction - that suggests he uses the vents to hunt on a regular basis, and he's clever enough to use basic deception.

On the subject of Huggy Wuggy, when he escapes the facility, his first instinct is to go home.

There are also numerous examples of the experiments being able to form and maintain social bonds, and work together:

Mommy Long-Legs is described as "nurturing" and "motherly" towards the other experiments, as well as the children. She's placed in the Game Station precisely because her desire to protect and care for the children outweighs her hatred for her captors: she won't act aggressively in front of them.

DogDay says that he's "the last of the Smiling Critters", implying that the Playcare originally had a full complement of Bigger Bodies Critters and that they were all able to coexist peacefully.

Kissy Missy and Poppy clearly have a friendship, with Poppy willing to charge into unknown danger to help her friend.

Miss Delight originally calls the other teachers her sisters, and she's horrified and grief-stricken by her own actions when she turns on them.

Miss Delight and CatNap form a non-aggression pact that seems to include some kind of respect for territorial boundaries, as Ollie claims that CatNap usually avoids the school. That's Miss Delight's turf, and he clearly respects her space, even though it technically falls inside his own territory.

The Prototype - who's usually kept in isolation and under surveillance precisely because he's known to be violent - was on multiple occasions set loose in a room with at least CatNap (and potentially other experiments) without bloodshed. He's even confirmed to have patiently tolerated CatNap lowkey imprinting on him and following him around like a duckling.

The Prototype also opts to save Theo Grambell's life, knowing damn well that to do so means sacrificing his shot at freedom. There is no reason for him to do this other than caring for Theo.

Again, DogDay is the last of the Smiling Critters. Despite the fact that there would have been six of them, and one of CatNap. Working together, they should have been able to overpower him easily, and the fact that they couldn't makes me think that either a) there was a big confrontation in which CatNap either arrived with or was able to call out for backup or b) CatNap became an infinitely more capable strategist and picked them off quietly one at a time, using skills he'd have to have learned from someone.

Anyway. My point here: these were originally people, with all the associated moral hangups and emotional messiness, and they retained a lot of their humanity post-transformation. And they were on the same side, to begin with. During the Hour of Joy, they all turn on the workers together.

But after that? The complete breakdown of that unity and those complex social relations into an essentially animal ecosystem, and the psychological impact on the surviving experiments, fascinates me.

By the time the game starts, the experiments have run out of food, and they've begun turning on each other out of desperation. The Bigger Bodies monsters, previously social and cooperative, have been forced into direct competition for food, and as a result they've largely become solitary apex predators with fiercely-defended territories, where they can pick off smaller, weaker experiments at will. There's some evidence of cooperation and coexistence between predators - Bunzo Bunny and the Mini-Huggies survive ten years in Mommy Long-Legs' territory, possibly filling the scavenger niche and surviving off her leftovers, and Miss Delight is tolerated in CatNap's - but the small toys we see scattered bloodily all across the factory (and the small Bunzo we see picked off by CatNap as it tries to cross a room) show that there's a whole category of experiments whose lives would've become all about hiding, and sneaking, and being where the Bigger Bodies critters aren't. The predators, driven to the edge of starvation, have had to surrender a lot of the human values and morals they had before. The prey have essentially become rodents - they're in danger every second they're not safely hidden away somewhere.

And yet!

The way they've reacted to their trauma is still so human.

Like. Take the difference between CatNap and Mommy Long-Legs.

Mommy and CatNap - Marie and Theo - have a very similar start in life. Both were children when they were experimented on and transferred into their mascot bodies. Both were orphans, and both are described as not fitting in or being particularly happy in the Playcare - Marie was bullied, and Theo is described as "odd" and "antisocial with other children".

But post-transformation, it seems Marie was largely left to, essentially, raise herself. We know that she was aggressively hostile towards staff, and gentle and nurturing towards orphans and other experiments, but we have no suggestion that anyone was caring or parental towards her. Like most of the experiments, she has a digestive tract and would have needed to eat, so she must have had a "keeper" of some kind, but she doesn't seem to have had any attachment to anyone who could serve as a parental substitute and guide her into adulthood.

When we meet her as Mommy Long-Legs, she would be a young adult - she's grown up in her mascot body. But even acknowledging that she's been driven mad by fear and isolation, her emotional development shows several damage markers you'd expect from a child so utterly deprived of love and care and guidance. She's emotionally unstable and prone to throwing extreme tantrums over small and arbitrary inciting factors, like "cheating" at a rigged game - there's very limited ability or desire to moderate or regulate her emotions. She's erratic, has poor impulse control, and when she's angry she lashes out violently at whoever is most convenient - like Bunzo - even though it's someone else - the player - that she's actually mad at. She does try to hide her disappointment at our continued existence behind her bubblegum Mommy persona, but she never quite learned to convincingly mask her emotions the way adults can. Nor has she mastered the art of making and executing a plan - when she attacks, it's all aggression - the single-minded grab-and-smash of an angry, thwarted child. Even Huggy, limited though his intelligence is, stalks the player and tries to chase them into a kill zone. But Mommy relies solely on her stretch ability - automatic, instinctive - and her sheer rage to make her the GameStation's apex predator. Left to raise herself, she never learned a lot of adult skills or survival strategies, and it's become a fatal flaw - she knows her territory, she knows where there would be machinery to look out for, but she's so single-mindedly focused on punishing the player that she completely overlooks her own safety.

Contrast: CatNap.

CatNap is also a young adult when we meet him, and if he'd also been left alone to raise himself, he'd probably have a lot of the same developmental stunting. But he doesn't, and that's interesting.

Now, let's take a very quick detour to look at the behaviour we've seen, not from CatNap, but from the Prototype. We know he's fiercely intelligent, calculating, and a tactical thinker with a talent for using his environment and anything in it (up to and including the player - he makes use of Mommy after we kill her, even though he's the facility's super predator and could easily have done it himself) to his advantage. We know he's stealthy - from how close to us he is at the close of each chapter, he's likely been tailing us from the moment we entered the factory, keeping his distance and watching us to see what we'll do and how he can make use of our actions. Some of his behaviours are strongly reminiscent of a soldier in action - I have a theory here that whoever became the Prototype had, at some point in his previous life, been a military man.

And now look at CatNap. Who has he become?

An intelligent, calculating stealth predator who uses his environment and any weaponizable thing he can get his claws on to take out his prey with minimal risk to himself. He's capable of adult logic and reasoning skills - i.e. the teachers will get hungry and harm the surviving children, so locking them in the school to fight to the death removes all but one threat, who can then be negotiated with once the children have been moved to safety. He's able to form and maintain alliances and agreements. He's even able to identify that the player is either a) not a threat to him or b) proving useful to the Prototype, and overlook his own hunger to offer them mercy: leave Playcare, or I'm coming for you.

In other words, he's grown up a lot like the Prototype.

And there's a reason for that! We know from the interdepartmental report on CatNap that for some reason, after his transformation procedure, he was allowed to socialise with the Prototype - an experiment who's considered so dangerous usually kept on lockdown in isolation under constant surveillance. And the report notes that CatNap "follows [the Prototype] around like a lost puppy" and that the Prototype "doesn't seem to mind".

Which, on its own, could just mean that the Prototype recognised Theo for what he was - a traumatized, hurting, confused little boy - and, aware that CatNap was not a threat, opted for tolerance over violence. But when you consider CatNap's history with the Prototype, I don't think that's it. Theo befriended the Prototype, or vice versa, long before Theo ever became CatNap. He was mortally injured trying to help the Prototype escape, and the Prototype gave up that shot at freedom to get Theo medical attention. They are close, and the fact that CatNap, a decade later, has assumed so many of the Prototype's traits and skills implies that they remained close for a good long while after the Hour of Joy.

Theo, aged 7, is clinging to the one person he feels safe with and protected by after a major trauma. If he follows the Prototype everywhere, he won't be left alone with the scientists. If he's not left alone with the scientists, they can't hurt him anymore. And the Prototype lets him, reinforcing the idea that you're safe with me. It's not unlikely that he feels responsible for CatNap's fate - if he hadn't taken Theo to the Playtime counselors for medical attention, the boy would have peacefully died, and wouldn't be living a nightmare - and he's stepped up to parent CatNap.

And you can see echoes of that ongoing bond in how CatNap behaves a decade later. Who taught him to hunt? The Prototype. Who taught him strategy and tactical thinking? The Prototype. Who gave him the survival skills he needed to make his way to the top of the food chain and stay there? The Prototype.

Unlike Marie, Theo had someone to protect him. Someone to play with and care for him. Someone to hunt for and feed him once the bodies began to run out, at least until he was fully capable of catching, killing and pulling apart his own prey. Someone to socialise with. And he's better adjusted - for a given value of "better adjusted", because like, nobody in this factory is even remotely okay - as a result.

And that's still so human. Despite the absolute horror-show feral animal situation they're all living in.

Just? idk man i have a lot of feelings

#smiling critters #poppy playtime headcanons #poppy playtime #vidya gaems #poppy playtime meta #experiment 1006 #the prototype #catnap #theodore grambell #mommy long legs #anyway: baby catnap shrinking his huge body down so he can hide from another monster behind the prototype's legs #baby catnap practicing his hunting skills on the prototype the way lion cubs pounce on adult lions #baby catnap curling up very small beside this monstrosity of wires and metal and actually feeling SAFE

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subskz · 3 months

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Sub skz getting edged/overstimulated?

Pretty please 🥺

sure 🥰 i hope you meant combining the two bc that’s what i went with!

chan - channie is sooo good when he’s getting edged. he does start to get a little whiny and restless over time, but he still tries his best to keep his patience bc he wants to do well for you and he knows it’ll feel even better once he’s finally allowed to cum. he begs a lot even when it's clear it won’t get him anywhere, apologizes even when he's done nothing wrong, and he never forgets to say please in the sweetest, broken voice. it’s hard to resist him when he’s so earnest but at the same time it makes him all the more fun to tease~ he goes crazy when you coo over him and pet his head, promising it'll be over soon, only to deny him yet again. he's the type to whimper out a tiny "please please please" and push his hips up when he's close, then groan weakly when his orgasm escapes him for the umpteenth time. but he handles the edging part a lot better than the overstim, once he climaxes (and he cums hard after being edged so many times) it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s thrashing around crying out that it’s too much. he’s very sensitive and can’t take being overstimulated for too long, esp if you used his cum as lube to pump him even faster, he might start to cry a bit. but the sweet, pleading little sounds he lets out when you keep going makes it very tempting to see how much more he'll endure for you

lino - he has the biggest love/hate relationship with edging bc he does not have the patience for it, but the pleasure always pays off so deliciously in the end that he’ll do practically anything just to get his orgasm. it’s like a cheat code for making him obedient~ unlike chan, minho doesn’t shy away from voicing his dissatisfaction every time you edge him. he’s whining, provoking you, and mouthing off after being denied just once bc he’s so used to immediately getting what he wants. he definitely needs to be bound somehow or kept an eye on so you can smack his misbehaving hands away bc he will try to touch himself or tug your hand back to his dick once he gets desperate enough (he’ll hit you with those deceptively innocent glossy eyes too…good luck) the way he looks when you finally let him cum makes all his fussing worth it though. his eyes roll back into the prettiest expression and he shakes. funnily enough he complains less once u start to overstim him bc at that point his head goes blank, he’s the definition of fucked out. he enjoys every bit of the pleasure and pain with his jaw going slack and his body jolting so cutely. he can’t even think of anything clever to say let alone form a sentence, just moan after angelic moan

binnie - simultaneously the goodest and the whiniest boy on earth! he wants to be able to take it, to make you proud w how well he endures both the torturous rounds of edging and the overstimulation after, but he'll inevitably be whining up a storm the entire time. it’s embarrassing how he loses control of his body, bucking into into the air and letting pitiful little whimpers slip past his lips when the buildup of pleasure is lost yet again. he can’t help but make a few wrong moves out of reflex, like trying to gain friction to push himself over the edge or reaching for your hand with a whine when you pull away, but he immediately apologizes for it bc he really doesn’t mean to disobey you. you'd have to praise him through it all so he has the drive to keep going. he needs to hear those “good boy”s every time he’s left twitching without release, and he especially needs to hear you telling him how well he’s taking it once the overstim kicks in. tell him how pretty he looks, how beautiful he sounds, and he'll feel his chest swell with pride even as you stroke him until his dick is sore. his voice gets so sweet and high-pitched as he begs you to slow down, but he can take it all as long as your adoring words soothe him through it

hyunjin - how he handles edging depends on his mood that day. jinnie can either be the sweetest, most pliant baby boy or a little bit of a spoiled brat if he want to be put in his place. some days he’s so desperate for you that he’s grateful you’re even touching him at all, even when he feels his sanity slip more and more each time his orgasm is delayed. he moans out the prettiest, breathless “thank you” as his body squirms around in a frantic search of some relief. other days, he’s rolling his eyes, huffing, scoffing, whining, and grinding against the mattress when he doesn’t get what he wants. it gets harder for him to talk back the more you edge him though, his taunts morph into slurred, nonsense whimpers bc the only thing on his mind is how badly he needs to cum, he can’t find it in him to provoke you anymore. he definitely gets teary-eyed once he breaks and realizes you still have no intention of going easy on him. but regardless of if he’s being a brat or a good boy that day, he always loves the overstimulation. he writhes so beautifully in the sheets, arching his back and tossing his head around, you'd think he was trying to escape the pleasure but his cries for more say otherwise. he begs you to keep going even as his tears spill over, and once you're done with him he flashes you the cutest, blissed out lazy smile with his chest heaving and drool spilling from his lips

jisung - hannie starts off just happy that you're touching him esp if it's on a day where he was acting out for your attention, and he always naively thinks he's won once you get your hands on him. he's the easiest to break of all the boys, so it makes it extra fun to see how he reacts when you pull away right before he cums and he realizes what you're planning to do with him. his eyes get so wide and he immediately starts to whine, stutter out apologies and beg for you to take pity on him, he has absolutely no shame abt it. he keeps promising he'll do anything you say if you just let him cum, he'll obey you like a good boy!! if him whimpering "please, i can't take it ): i really can't take it anymore ):” with that irresistible pout doesn't sway you, then eventually he starts to tear up from frustration. he cries so sweetly bc it feels so good but it's not enough, he’s completely helpless and doesn’t know what to do w himself. he’s sensitive enough to accidentally cum even after you’ve pulled away, too, so you have to be careful not to push him too close to the edge. once you finally let him cum he just sobs even harder, bc now suddenly the pleasure he begged for is way too much. he moves around like crazy when the overstimulation kicks in, he's another one you might have to tie up just to contain his thrashing

felix - he loves this combination! it’s hardly a punishment at all for him, in fact, most of the time he’ll be the one asking you with the most innocent look on his face if you'll edge him until he's too far gone to even keep count anymore, then overstim him until he can’t remember his own name. he’s a good boy but his endurance isn’t the best. the repeated denial can get hard for him to take, but it's the overstimulation that he really wants, so he tries his best to power through without complaints bc his favorite part is what comes after. it makes lixie’s brain positively melt to have the promise of his orgasm dangled over his head for as long as you see fit, feel his high ebb and flow until he thinks he'll actually go crazy, and then feel it explode all at once in a slew of pleasure. he loves how dependent it makes him on you too, like he can trust you to decide what’s best for him, right down to whether or not he’s allowed feel good. he might break out into cute, desperate giggles when he really feels himself start to reach his limit bc he’s just so overwhelmed by the intensity of his orgasm when he finally climaxed and how it keeps amplifying the more you overstim him. he’s so grateful when he finally gets to cum, he’d definitely be babbling out “thank you”s over and over until it’s the only thing he knows how to say anymore bc the poor baby’s brain has gone haywire

seungmin - you will not find a more obedient or disciplined sub than kim seungmin (when he wants to be ofc…he’s very patient but that can be a double-edged sword in when he’s in the mood to be a brat) when he’s being a good boy he handles it like a champ! he wants to please you, and on top of that he actually has the self-control to tolerate being edged more than just a few times before he crumbles and starts whining. he enjoys taking things slow anyway, so he relishes in how you drag out his pleasure for longer than even he can imagine, it’s almost relaxing for him, to repeatedly stop right before he tips over the edge then hear your soothing voice murmur “good boy, just a few more, alright?” he’ll start to get breathless and pant harder and harder the longer it goes on, but even when his hair is sticky w sweat and his dick is practically glazed with all his precum, he bites his lip and powers through for you. the sight of overstimulated seungmo is so satisfying to watch. after what could be over an hour of you toying with his body with no relief, he unravels so beautifully when you finally let him cum and the pleasure he was dying for suddenly goes from not enough to too much all at once. it’s one of the few times you’ll ever really hear him get loud, his voice sounds so angelic ringing out in a helpless, sweet wail begging you to slow down. he definitely can’t handle the overstim as well as the edging but it’s a sight to die for

jeongin - he's like a combination of minho and chan; he doesn't have a lot of patience for edging, but he really wants to be able to do well for you. it makes things hard for poor innie bc on top of the ache that builds in his abdomen each time you edge him, he's also fighting an internal battle with himself trying to bite back the groans and pleas forming on his tongue. he’s another one who tends to squirm a lot and gasp out when you pull away at the last second, no matter how embarrassed he gets over his reactions he has a hard time controlling himself enough to stop, so he’ll be apologizing breathlessly through it all. he might also be prone to accidentally cumming even once you’ve stopped/slowed down. he gets worked up super fast so sometimes he surprises you w how quickly he reaches the brink of his climax again, but he always does his best to warn you before it happens. there’s only so much he can take before his desperation overpowers his desire to be good, though. he’ll start to get whinier and whinier the more you edge him (thinking of when he kept messing up at halli galli in that one live and started wailing “ah why? why? why?”smth like that hehe) he’s so so grateful when you finally let him finish, and he lets you know with the cutest choked moan how relieved he is. it feels amazing for the first few seconds, but it doesn’t take long for him to start twisting his hips wildly again once the overstim kicks in, this time, to escape the feeling rather than beg for more. he grits his teeth and hisses a lot, nodding frantically when you ask him if he can take more, no matter how much it aches. he definitely ends up a lil teary-eyed by the end of it too <3

#ask #💌 skz

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mochie85 · 1 year

Text

The Chase

These Wicked Games Collection | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You and Loki continue the poker game from earlier in the night. A/N: This is a sequel to my Poker Face fic. You don't have to read that first. But I would greatly appreciate it if you do 🥰. I'm thinking this is going to be part of a collection. This won't be the last time you see this Loki and Reader. This is also my submission for @the-slumberparty Week 2 Challenge: Blast From The Past. Word Count: Over 2.5K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Smut; handcuffs, praise kink, hunter/prey dynamic, bondage, spreader bar- ya, you read that right. Fluff ending.

Loki’s smoldering eyes never left yours as his fingers continued to unbutton his shirt. You deftly shuffled the deck of cards, watching him strip bare in front of you. “A Las Vegas past, you say? I wonder how many other tricks you have up your sleeve, darling.”

You smirked, unable to come up with a witty retort. He had taken off his shirt and was working on the buttons of his trousers. Your eyes roamed his smooth skin. The contours of his muscles made you want to trace each and every line with your tongue.

He quickly unzipped his dress pants and let them pool down to the floor. He stepped out of them and hummed as he spotted you licking your lips at his half-erect cock, growing by the second. “Are you sure you won’t get distracted, darling? You know, we could forego all the formalities and just have our own game instead,” he tempted, coming closer to you. His naked body glistened in the light of the fireplace. And somehow that just made his voice sound deeper, richer, more perilous.

“But where’s the fun in that? Where’s the chase, Mischief?” you smoldered as you walked further away from him. You weren’t going to let him win. You were too proud, too stubborn, to let him get the upper hand.

“Oh, you’d like me to chase you. Is that right?” he provoked, standing proudly as his eyes stalked you moving further into his room, but still maintaining your distance.

Unbeknownst to you, you were already playing a game with the god of mischief. A game that he started earlier that night when he lost his hand to you. You had played right into his trap.

He knew you would win. He didn’t cheat. Although, he could have. It was all too easy after the first round where Barnes and Rogers taught him how to play.

When the rest of the group came, that’s when Loki learned that it was about deception. When Natasha suggested a provocative game of strip poker, he finalized the plans in his head of how he could get you alone.

Loki noticed how everyone was losing an article of clothing besides himself- and of course, you.

You were shrewd. Your canny ability to read everyone’s body language and the ability to mask your own made you so irresistible. So mysterious and intriguing. He wondered how he could break your poker face and finally get past that shield you seem to have put up.

“I have a wager for you,” Loki said in his deep husky voice.

“You’re already naked, Loki. I don’t think there’s anything else I want,” you said cooly, goading him along.

“Are you certain? There’s nothing else I can offer you?” he spoke so sharply you could hear the crinkle of his smile. “At least let me win back some article of clothing,” Loki added.

You expressly ran your stare down his sculpted body. From his strong shoulders down to his veinous arms that were holding onto his sharp hips. You purposely kept your stare on his evident arousal before looking directly into his eyes and grinning.

Confident that you wouldn’t lose, you agreed. “All right. For every hand you win, you can put on an article of clothing,” you stated. Loki smiled. “But what do I get if I win?” you asked.

“For every hand you win, you get a one-second head start before I catch you.” Loki teased. “And trust me, darling, I will catch you,” he said taking one step forward causing you to back away further and deeper into his room. You stood behind his desk, pushing his chair aside as you secured the table between you.

“This won’t stop me, dearest. You can put as many obstacles in my way as you want, but I would still seize my prize.”

Is that a promise? You wanted to ask. “Ok. Let’s make it simple. The game: Blackjack. Are you familiar?” you diverted and resisted the urge to smile. Loki nodded his head. “Wonderful. I’ll deal.”

“Excellent,” he agreed, and you dealt the cards out between you.

In the first two games, you won with 18 and 20, respectively. Loki wanted to see how you would play this out. You had kept your poker face on the entire time, not once giving him an inclination to your thought’s inner workings.

He adapted and analyzed you quickly. After winning a total of five seconds, you felt a sense of confidence and misplaced pride. Loki, standing proudly naked, decided to be riskier with his hits.

You drew the cards and Loki won with 19 to your 17. “All right, Laufeyson. One article of clothing,” you stated, expecting him to put his underwear back on. All Loki did was fold his arms and grin widely.

You felt a heavy weight pull on your left wrist that wasn’t there before. You felt the soft fur lining before you saw that Loki had conjured thin leather cuffs for you.

“Loki? What the hell is this?” holding your hand up for him to see.

“I’m just staking my gains, dear. You said I can add an article of clothing for every hand I win. You didn’t clarify what type of adornment I could add,” he smirked. “And on whom.”

You narrowed your eyes and seethed. “You sly little-”

“Would you expect anything else from me, my dear? Come on, darling. You have your five-second head start. Why don’t you try winning the cuffs off then?”

“All right. Bet.” You shuffled the deck and dealt each of you two cards. Loki won the hand when you busted at 23. Another cuff materialized on your right wrist.

“Are you cheating?” you accused him.

“No. Never with you, my dear. Winning you any other way would taint the joy of having you scream out my name.” He leaned down onto his desk and looked you in your eyes. “When I catch you, darling, I want you to remember that I won fair and square.” The devilish grin he gave you made you swallow. And now you weren’t sure whether you wanted to win or lose.

“Let fate decide,” he answered as if he could read your mind. “Play.”

You dealt out another set of cards. You lost the hand when he hit 20, and you busted at 22. You felt a weight attach itself to your left ankle. Looking down, you saw a cuff that matched the other two on your wrist.

You’re breathing got heavy. Your bravado shattered instantly. “Last game,” you tried to say nonchalantly.

“If you’d like,” Loki granted. “Although, I did want to see how tantalizing your neck would’ve looked adorned with a matching collar.”

You dealt the cards and received two kings. A small glimmer of hope swelled in your chest.

Loki had a Queen of Clubs. “How ironic,” he stated as he turned his other card around revealing an Ace of Spades. 21.

The look on your face fell as you realized that he had won his hand. A new weight was added to your right ankle. The now familiar fur lining rubbing against your skin.

“I suggest you start running, pet,” Loki said so sweetly. You looked up into his greedy eyes and tried to gather your thoughts together. “Five,” he started to count down.

“Four.” At this, you threw the cards onto the desk and ran towards his door, squealing when you passed him.

“Three.” The weight of the cuffs was evident, but not so much that it hindered your speed.

“Two.” Your hands reached for his doorknob, turning it over quickly and opening the door.

“One,” Loki growled in your ear. His hand was on his door, slamming it closed as he pinned you against it. You turned to face him, and he trapped you in between his arms, holding the door closed.

All at once he was everywhere around you, invading all your senses. You could see the craving in his eyes. You could smell the fine hint of his aftershave. You could feel the heat all around you as he caged you in between his arms and body. You could hear nothing but your heartbeat throbbing in time with his breathing.

He leaned down. His bright face was on level with yours. “I don’t think you really tried, pet. Did you want to get caught?”

“You cheat-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He interrupted, putting his fingers on your lips. “I did not cheat! But what game are you playing at, my dear? Why did you come into my room? In the middle of the night? Certainly not just to play cards. Or maybe…as I stated before…you wanted to get caught.”

“Loki-”

He kissed you. He brought his mouth to yours and moaned as he finally savored the taste of your lips. He pushed you harder against the door and you could feel his hard length twitching against your body. “Tell me you want this…”

“I…unh…” he ground his pelvis into yours and you felt slick wetness coat your panties.

“Tell me, darling. Tell me that you’ve been fantasizing about this as I have,” he whimpered on your neck.

“I have, Loki,” you sighed as he thrust his hips against you again. He growled his desire as he picked you up and carried you over to his bed. He laid you down, his weight, a welcome heaviness that makes your breath hitch.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, kissing you again on your lips.

“It varies from moment to moment,” you said as he bit your lower lip.

“I’ll take it,” he chuckled at your answer. He gathered your wrist and suspended them above your head. The cuffs attached themselves to a chain that Loki seemed to have conjured. “Pull.” And you did as he instructed. The chain was taut, but the fur lining caressed your skin.

He made his way down your sinful curves followed by the soft kisses of his lips. You hadn’t realized that he removed your clothing already. You lay there, panting heavily as he took in your erotic figure writhing on top of his sheets.

He knelt up at the edge of the bed. His heated touch followed the bows of your calves down to the cuffs adorning your ankles. He took one ankle in each hand and as he separated your legs, a bar had formed in between them, snapping your ankle cuffs in place.

The click of the metal bar echoed throughout his room whispering promises of lurid affairs yet to come.

“You beautiful, courageous creature!” Loki said adoringly. With the bar held in one of his hands, he pushed your knees back towards your head. “How I’m going to love ruining you.” His other hand stroked his hard shaft, placing the weeping tip at your slick entrance.

Slowly, he savored entering your tight walls. Your head was thrown back in pure ecstasy as you felt him strain your pussy.

You tried to clench, tried to close your knees together and indulge in the way he stretched you, but the bar prevented you from closing your legs altogether. As if Loki knew, he gave you a fleeting smile before he lunged himself in, grinding against you when he reached your walls.

He paused only for a moment before he picked up his pace. The erratic moans you cried were drowned out by Loki’s grunts. His hips pounded madly into yours. His hands held onto the bar, using it as leverage against your aching pussy by pushing it down to your chest.

The position left you feeling open and vulnerable. You were left to his whims as he took what he wanted mercilessly. “Unhh…th-that’s it. That’s my girl,” he huffed plunging back into your tightness. “You like being tied up, don’t you sweet thing? Letting me do what I want to your sweet…delectable…mhhmmm…”

His words sent a fire throughout your body. A spark that began in your aching cunt and made you seize up altogether. “L-Loki…I ca…I can’t…fuck…it feels so good.” You felt him push the bar further against your body. Your knees bent to your chest and you came.

You chanted his name as the never-ending wave of pleasure took hold of your body and wouldn’t let go. “Loki. My god…”

He pulled himself out quickly, and with his strength he turned the bar over, causing you to land on your knees. Your face was smothered on the pillow as your peach-shaped cheeks hung in the air. He spanked you, causing you to lose your breath once again.

“Call me your god again and I’ll bless you with the most spiritual enlightenment you’ll ever have.” Loki sank himself inside you. Your cries of ecstasy muffled against his pillows.

The position was different. The angle of his thrust went deeper. You could feel almost every vein. Every torturous pull of his shaft along your tight walls. Your legs were spread, your hands bound to the headboard. You felt like nothing more than a toy to the god who was giving you a glimpse of heaven.

Loki’s breathing got heavier. His thrust got more erratic and you could feel his thighs shake behind yours. You felt his chest against your back as he fell on top of you. He tried holding himself up, losing the fight against your hot slit.

You could hear his pleasure. His rhythmic grunts against your ear. “You’re so good for me.” The torrid whispers and compliments about your body. “Th-that’s it. Take it. Take it like a good girl.” You were close again. “Unnh…faen…Gods you’re amazing!”

At his praise, you shattered into another orgasm. He held your shoulders down, trying to gain more leverage as Loki came inside you. He felt the clutch of your muscles. The velvet of your sex trying to keep him inside you and he couldn’t help but have the widest grin of satisfaction on his face.

He pulled out slowly and watch as his spent dribbled down your thighs. “Loki…” you moved to get up.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“But-”

“I said. Don’t. Move.” You felt him get off the bed. Moments later a warm towel graced your thighs. He moved to cup your heated folds and when he finished, he quickly turned the bar and put you right to your back again.

With the snap of his fingers, both the bar and the cuffs dematerialized. He lifted one ankle and massaged it. He kissed where the cuffs used to be and gently set it down before reaching for your other ankle. He followed with your wrist. Ensuring that they weren’t blistered or cut.

His quiet reverence of your body contested with what he just did to it. “So, you’ve been fantasizing about me?” You asked, breaking the silence between you.

“I have,” he simpered.

“How long?”

“As long as you have.”

“That’s-”

“Shh.” Loki crawled up to you and ran his nose against your cheek while peppering kisses on your skin. You closed your eyes and savored the intimacy he was showing. “Sleep, love. Ask me your questions tomorrow.” He wrapped his blanket around you and nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

“All right,” you whispered, slowly drifting off into slumber. “But don’t think I won’t forget!” you threatened cherubically.

“I look forward to it,” Loki smiled as he watched you fall asleep in his arms.

⬅️Chapter 1: Poker Face | Chapter 3: 20 Questions➡️

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