#he has never been lenient to himself. and that’s a thing. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lauraneedstochill · 8 months

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Confess the longing you are dreaming of

summary: Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader (third person, no mention of Y/N) warnings: bantering and teasing, mentions of unpleasant sexual experience, praise kink (guess who’s got it), a dollop of softness, mild smut (... for starters ;) author’s note: couldn’t get the idea out of my head and spent a few sleepless nights writing this. I imagine her brothers as Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac ✨ words: ~8000 song inspo: Hozier — Better love

>>> Aemond isn’t present when the idea is voiced the first time — he has a hunch that his grandsire is to blame for that. No doubt, Otto was the one to plan it out, come up with arguments served with his persuasive tone. He’s always loved to make arrangements and strike deals, each one of them to play into his hands, and Aemond hates the thought of being just another pawn of his.

He is blindsided at the breakfast but it’s made sound carelessly mundane — as Otto puts down his cup, he throws him the proposal, the way one would leniently throw alms to the poor. And Aemond thinks he must’ve heard him wrong.

“Marry me to... Who?” the prince asks, hardly covering his surprise.

His grandsire directs his gaze at him, the old man’s mouth twitching into a condescending smile. Since Otto isn’t keen on idle talk, he tells him plainly:

“You’ve long been of age, Aemond, you know that,” his knife scratches the plate as he cuts the meat, his eyes not moving from the prince. “House Martell holds power, and we’ll be fortunate to have such allies. Besides,” he pauses to take a bite, and Aemond gets annoyed at waiting; Otto chews, then adds, “I’ve only heard good things about your bride-to-be. Wouldn’t you confirm, Ser Criston?”

The mention of the knight is unexpected to them both — Aemond turns his head to meet Ser Criston’s puzzled look. But the brunet effortlessly copes with his emotions:

“We met when she was just a kid. But I knew she’d grow into a fine lady,” he easily agrees. Mayhaps, too easily for Aemond’s liking so he makes a note to talk about it later on.

His grandsire only lets out a pleased hum. “Well, I’m under the impression she will make a good match for our prince,” and Aemond feels that Otto carefully picks each word, “She’s said to be both beautiful and smart, and known for being quite independent,” he’s usually so stingy with his praise, it’s worth its weight in gold.

But that is not what Aemond hears. The choice was made for him, and his rejection of it makes him paint a portrait less alluring — a pompous wayward woman raised in the traditions that are starkly different from his; and yet, it is expected of him to accept it freely. His wounded ego simmers at the thought.

“I’d add another word to that,” Aegon chimes in, half-drunk already, “Everyone knows the Martells to also be promisc—”

“Look who’s talking,” Otto glares at him, and Aegon shuts his mouth.

The word is left unsaid, only the meaning of it isn’t hard to guess, and Aemond feels embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and weighting down his chest. He deems himself an educated man, well-read and eager to put his knowledge to the test, but he has yet to learn of carnal pleasures. A memory is clawing out: him, ten-and-three and plied with wine, laid on a bed that smelled of sweat, a naked woman next to him. Despite her tireless attempts, he wanted none of it, and the repulsion made him sick — and then it made him hate the act itself.

He did go to the brothel through the years, tried watching, touching, looked at bodies of all sorts, only it felt like putting paint over a rotten wall. He felt constrained, and lacking in some way (perhaps, in many), and more so awfully incomplete. Not once he sensed a spark, a pleasure he would crave, and no amount of effort could help him fill the emptiness inside.

He quells the feeling, pushes in indifference instead, and glances briefly at his mother. She meets his eye but only grants him a faint smile, her own gaze lacking any protest.

“Her brothers wrote that they would visit in a fortnight,” Alicent peacefully explains. “It is our duty to ensure a royal welcome.”

“Brothers?” Helaena blithely chirps. “How many does she have?”

“Four but only two of them are coming,” Otto tells her softly, then looks at Aemond, adding in a voice more wily. “I am convinced they really want to see whom their dear sister is about to marry.”

He doesn’t spell it out but the implication can’t be clearer — Aemond must play the part and make a good impression. As if impressing just one stranger wasn’t tedious enough.

As if he isn’t vexed already by how unsuitable he finds her.

>>> Frustration grows in Aemond with each day, takes roots, and clogs up all his thoughts. Some other man would’ve been glad — he often heard that the Martells are quite the lovers. He can’t admit it to himself how much he’s bothered by his own misfortunes on the love field.

He bottles his emotions up and doesn’t utter any word of discontent, nor does he ever speak of the awaited visit. Although he makes just one exception.

“My grandsire mentioned that you knew her,” he reminds Ser Criston one day after training.

The knight nods. “I crossed paths with Quentyn, he’s the oldest. She used to come to watch us train.”

“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.

Ser Criston ponders for a minute, polishing his sword. “She was a quiet little girl, kept to herself. A lot of boys were always chasing after her, and she paid them all no mind,” he smiles at the memory. “But I remember one of them who was... particularly pesky. His charms didn’t work on her so he got offended, rude, followed her around. She tolerated him for over a month. One morning, he was hassling her in the training yard, and she just took a spear laying nearby — and smacked him with no warning,” he shakes his head but it’s apparent that he isn’t judging. “She didn’t use the pointy end but she got him good. And then she told him that next time he would think twice about his actions. She was impressive for a ten-year-old,” he muses and puts the sword away, then turns to Aemond, giving him a wistful stare. “Frankly, I think that you will like her.”

He does, for just a second, as his mind rushes to paint the image of a fearless little girl; and then he mercilessly wipes that image off. Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve found amusement in that story, but Aemond only huffs and thinks back to the list of all her traits he prematurely made up. He adds “rebellious” to that list, and his self-doubt is a venom that clouds his judgment. He’s in no rush to find a cure.

>>> Their ship arrives a few hours earlier than planned — and after the dock watchers break the news, the bustle begins. Maids, servants, guards all run and faff about the castle, the dining hall gets filled with smells and noises, plates and dishes clanking.

Aemond is not excited in the slightest.

He dresses up reluctantly, each piece of clothes only dampening his mood that’s been already sour for the past two weeks. He all but drags his feet into the dining hall and by the time he reaches it, he looks so grim that one may think the prince’s preparing for his death, no less.

The minutes fly too quickly for his liking — they barely have time to sit, his mother nervously toying with the tablecloth already, and then the guards rush to announce the guests. Surprisingly, she’s not among them. The prince thinks he should be relieved; deep down, there is a splash of worry fizzling in him.

Her brothers walk in calmly in a cloud of servants bearing gifts. Their kinship is immediately clear — both tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired, self-confidence subsisting in their every step. The oldest is distinguished by a touch of gray in his short beard, his gaze more focused, a slight smile plastered on his face. The other one shamelessly stares at every maid his eyes can catch.

“Your grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Quentyn reaches their table first, and Alicent walks down to greet them. He keeps his distance and his smile, his tone is measured. “We were so sad to learn that the King has fallen sick. But I can tell the Kingdom is in great hands. And —”

“Women’s hands do have a healing touch,” Oberyn smoothly interrupts, his accent a bit thicker, his voice honeyed. “I will prefer a Queen over a King at any given day. Unless, of course, your husband can compete with you in beauty... I somehow doubt that.”

A shade of disapproval grazes Quentyn’s face but Alicent is too amazed to notice. The compliment may come off as blunt but she still takes it well, her smile embarrassed yet sincere.

“I hope you will enjoy your stay,” she tells them humbly, then looks over the crowd. “But may I ask where is the lady we’ve been waiting for?”

“She made a stop on our way to catch up with an old friend,” Quentyn answers, ready to explain, “It’s been years since we’ve met Ser —”

“Still can’t believe he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Oberyn chuckles. “I think it’s all the armor that makes it look like he poses a threat. But you may reconsider if you see him in the nude.”

This time, the older brother glares at him with warning, and there’s a lull in their conversation, while Aemond’s struggling to hear what made his mother’s cheeks so red, his mind nervously preoccupied with someone else —

her laughter enters first.

It’s bright and joyful, a sound so lovely it might be enough to crack up his restraint. But then he spots her, and it feels like his whole body flares up at the sight.

She’s walking with her hand under Ser Criston’s arm, and Aemond’s never seen a dress that covers so much but hides so little. It’s muted orange, floor-length, made of sumptuous silk, with two long slits along the sides, curves of her thighs beguilingly seen through. Her neck and arms aren’t covered, and the material is intricately stitched around her waist to show a few more glimpses of her sun-kissed skin. The waves of her long hair fall on her shoulders and frame her face, each feature of it striking but her lips stand out the most — full, plump, and reddish. Not once before Aemond found the thought of being kissed so tempting.

She doesn’t even turn her head to look at him. She’s talking to Ser Criston quietly, and he’s engaged in conversation, unusually relaxed. Their difference in age is obvious, and the knight seems like just another relative of hers, but an uneasy feeling still leaves a bite on Aemond’s chest. He can’t imagine her so carefree — so beaming and compliant — by his side. His jealousy tastes bitter like a stale wine.

He hears his brother let out a short laugh. “It’s not like they were fucking,” Aegon carelessly notes. “Please ease your outrage before she runs away.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice,” Aemond snarls.

“You do look like you need it,” the blond comments, then goes back to drinking.

She gracefully approaches them, her voice melodic like a murmur of a river. “Forgive me, your grace, for being late, I haven’t seen Ser Criston in some time,” she tells his mother. “He was once a dear friend of mine.”

“I only helped to shush away a few of your admirers,” the knight cackles, earning a smile from her.

“I hope you are making use of all his talents,” she says to the Queen, making her face flush right away.

She delicately moves on to another topic. “It is a pleasure to have you here, you must be tired from taking such a long trip.”

“We found it quite enjoyable,” Quentyn remarks politely. “The beautiful sights along the way are worth the journey, and your city has some great views too.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard great things about your food,” Oberyn grins. “Hence why we took the liberty to bring some of our own,” he signals to the nearest servant, who runs to open one of the trunks they carried. “The dornish fruits are also my sister’s weak spot.”

“As if you don’t gorge yourself on them!” she jests, letting go of Ser Criston’s arm at last. “My brother is a glutton, your grace, please excuse his manners in advance.”

“You can call me Alicent,” his mother corrects her warmly. “Only seems fair to continue this discussion at the table,” she slightly moves away to let the girl go first.

Aemond unintentionally stiffens and only when he stands up from his chair to greet her, she finally does look at him. In contrast to her countenance, her gaze is dark and piercing, and the prince is staggered by how unreadable it is. Her brothers glance at Aemond briefly — Quentyn is pensive, while Oberyn looks like he wants to bite his head off; neither says a word.

She’s seated to his right, and she leaves behind a trail of scent — apples and plums, and he can’t help but catch the movement of her hips under the flowing dress. The words all mash and fall apart, and he can’t pick a single one to strike up a conversation.

Aegon is sitting next to her, and his patience only lasts a minute. “Never knew Ser Criston was such a ladies' man.”

“I’m sure he succeeded on that front but we are merely good friends,” she answers calmly, keeping her eyes on servants bringing fruits — blood oranges and pomegranates, robust grapes, and ripened cherries.

“You two seemed more than friendly,” Aegon presses, his tone evidently taunting.

She picks a golden apricot and runs her thumb over its fragrant surface. “Maybe it’s the wine that makes you see things,” she rebuts and takes a bite out of the fruit, a drop of juice risking to escape her mouth but she wipes it swiftly with her finger. She catches Aemond looking, and his cheeks heat up.

“We’ve never seen him in the company of a woman,” the older prince points out, filling up his cup once more.

She takes out the kernel and eats up the fruit, her mouth glistens. “Aren’t the knights of the Kingsguard forbidden to marry?”

“Never stopped them from bedding whoever they like,” Aegon remarks crudely, and Aemond is thankful that their mother is too preoccupied with Oberyn’s tireless chatting.

“Maybe some men have the decency to follow orders,” she responds, unbothered, taking a cherry and clasping it with her lips. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice and only gulps the wine and rolls his eyes. Aemond can’t look away.

“Aren’t you Martells known for not following the rules? I thought unruly was in your house’s motto,” Aegon argues, a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.

She takes another cherry, the third in a row, her lips already stained with juice. “I think you keep getting your facts wrong,” she brushes him off, and Aegon goes to object some more but spills the wine right on his shirt. The displeased cry brings Aemond out of his trance.

“He tends to do that when he’s drunk,” the one-eyed prince coolly interjects.

Her eyes flicker to him, then she fully turns her head. “So you can actually talk,” her teasing comes off soft but her gaze still burns. “It’s good to know.”

“You seemed preoccupied with someone else,” he musters an excuse.

“Do you expect your wife to never speak to other men?” her voice almost betrays her disenchantment.

“No,” Aemond quickly answers, caught unawares by how strained his thinking process is. “She— you are free to choose your friends, of course.”

“I’m flattered,” her tone suggesting otherwise, “Not that I would ask for anyone’s approval,” she reaches for a plum; he closes his eye with a sigh.

Aegon comes to stand in between them on the pretext of needing another carafe of wine: “I didn’t mean to interrupt your friendly bickering, please continue.”

“It seems like Aemond isn’t in the mood for talking,” she doesn’t look at him, the tip of her tongue darting to lick her finger. “And I am never in the mood for begging.”

“My brother’s hospitality leaves much to be desired,” Aegon takes a sip. “So I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” his hand falls on her chair. “But if you ever wish to be... well satisfied, all you have to do is ask me”.

It’s hard to tell if Aegon’s actually that drunk or merely provoking (or if he’s got a death wish, Aemond wonders).

She replies without much thought. “Well, if I ever find myself in need of...,” she trails off with a smile but her gaze gets harsh — her words then follow, “My choice won’t fall on you,” the smirk falls off Aegon’s face, and she glances straight at Aemond, adding, “I like them taller.”

But her straightforwardness is met with his resistance, with the deep-rooted unacceptance of his lurking needs. He adds “indecent” to the list, and they speak no more.

>>> Her boldness doesn’t pose a problem to anyone but him. To his surprise (or more so to his shock), his mother gives in first.

The morning can’t come fast enough for Aemond after he spends the night tossing and turning. A few hours later he rushes to the garden for a walk, overwhelmed by restlessness his training didn’t help him cope with. That’s when he sees it — a spot of yellow shining through the trees. He somehow knows it’s her without further confirmation but still, his feet carry him on.

Her dress is vivid like a field of marigolds, her hair plaited, wrists adorned with golden bracelets. He slackens pace and peers into her — and he wants nothing more than to drink her up, her whole appearance is the sweetest nectar... Until he hears another sound and realizes she is not alone, and it’s his mother sitting by her side, wrapped in her favorite green and, unexpectedly, in glee. He can’t remember when he saw her laugh like this — out loud, giggling, tears at the corners of her eyes are not from sadness but from joy.

“My dear, that is so improper! Did he apologize at least?” Alicent inquires with a smile.

“Oberyn rarely does,” she tells her serenely. “His lover looked way more ashamed. I hope each of your rooms has locks, gods know I don’t want to walk in on him again.”

Unlike his mother who is covered by the shade of trees, she’s bathing in the sun, the soft light caressing her skin, and Aemond’s eye greedily follows every ray. In barely a minute he feels warm all over.

“I hope that Aemond’s chambers got locks too,” she adds all of a sudden, a bit louder, and his chest is splashed with cold.

His eye moves to her face, and she’s already looking at him, direct and daring. He knows he’s hidden by the trees but there’s no hiding from her gaze.

Aemond turns away and steps back in haste, his abashment mixed with grievance at her implication. He believes someone like her would never lust for him, and her jokes at his expense not only hurt but prompt his resentment to grow stronger. He adds “deceptive” to the portrait of her he is so adamantly set on painting.

>>> She wins Helaena’s heart with ease. His sister fondly compliments her brooch — a little poppy made out of gold — and she gifts it to Helaena the same day. The silver-haired princess grabs at chance to show her own collection, and they spend the day looking through the jewels spread over the floor, sitting right there and equally amused.

And that’s how Aemond finds them. He only planned to see his nephews but hearing her voice coming from Helaena’s chambers makes him slow his step.

“... And this one he gave me for my latest name day,” Helaena babbles cheerfully.

“Aemond clearly spoils you,” she laughs without a shade of envy. “As he should!”

“He is very kind at heart,” Helaena eagerly assures her. “You will be happy with him, I am certain of it.”

There is a pause that makes him feel uneasy, makes him sneak up closer to the room.

“I do believe he’s not an evil man,” she finally says, “Maybe he just wasn’t made for marriage.”

Surely she can’t see him through the door but he can swear that he feels her gaze, like a silent challenge, a hidden mocking. He barges in without a knock.

Helaena beams. “We were just talking about you!”

His sister’s dress is milky blue, modestly pretty, and loosely fitted. It’s also treacherously pale compared to the liquid gold the Martell girl is dressed in. She’s sitting with her feet under her thighs, the bending of her back is bare and in plain sight. He should’ve walked away the second he heard the sound of her voice because not looking at her seems impossible.

“Oh, you came to see the twins? They are with Aegon but I can call— No, I will bring them back myself,” Helaena springs to her feet, rosy-cheeked and smiley, and leaves the room before Aemond can protest. And then it’s just the two of them.

He takes a breath and makes an effort, with his jaw tense and his blood rising, to drag his eye away from her. It feels as pointless as ignoring sunlight in an open field on a summer day. Only her beauty is more brazen — and so is her wit.

“I take it, gold isn’t your favorite color,” she speaks up with an impish tone. “Would be a bad idea to wear it on our wedding then.”

She never comes too close, always just a little out of reach, and yet he feels as if her presence grips him, weakening his will. He doesn’t want to be with her until he is — and then he has no wish to leave.

It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.

“Why did you agree to come?” he bristles.

“You are not asking about your sister’s chambers, are you?” she clarifies, and he hears her smiling.

He tells himself he only needs to cast a glance to check.

He does — he meets her gaze — her earrings catch the sunlight and cast a trail of glares — the scattering of specks play on her skin, her neck and collarbones, sneak to her upper chest — his own is heaving. His struggle only lasts a moment but it leaves him short of breath. He isn’t looking anymore, his eye trying to discern the pattern on the drapes behind her.

“Our marriage, how do you benefit from it?” he hates how hard it is to control his voice.

And how she watches him intently without giving him a clue of what’s on her mind.

“I plan on visiting my family a couple of times a year. It will be easier to do on dragon back,” she doesn’t sound spiteful when she says it but her words still sting.

He can’t stop an image flashing through his mind: her on top of Vhagar, lungs full of air, pressed to him. It’s tempting — to have her in his hands, and yet the vision is too intangible to cling to. Instead, he thinks that in just three days she learned to play him like a harp, his years' worth of self-control is merely a sand castle against the tide of her sharp tongue.

He only snickers dryly at her reply, then they both hear the sound of running footsteps. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rush to greet him — but almost instantly abandon, the kids' attention drawn to the shining golden dress.

He thinks “unruly” suits her better than does “pompous”. He comes up with a fake excuse to leave; the image of her stays with him.

>>> He picks more adjectives as the week goes on — she’s audacious, disobedient, wanton. She moves around the castle as if she owns every room she’s in. She wears less, and even on rare occasions when she doesn’t, her defiance more than compensates for it. She never shies away from a deep neckline, nor does she feel the need to hold back her resounding laughs. Her jewelry clinks, each of her dresses is brighter than the other, but it’s her wicked mouth his eye always falls on first.

More times than not, Aemond can’t tear his gaze away, each meal for him now both a torture and a feast.

He watches as she parts her lips, puts them around a luscious grape, a cherry, or a peach, she swipes her tongue to lick up every running drop, savoring its tang — and keeps eye contact with him. He barely can taste the food he’s eating, and no wine can quench his thirst, his body flooding with a feeling he can’t define, his heart adrift.

He tries to fight it off with all our strength. He scratches off “unruly” to write down “unabashed” instead.

But then the dinner comes, and even though he’s never had a taste for sweets, he thinks he’d eat them from her lips (deep down, he wants to). The lies he tells himself are brittle like the flesh of fruits under her teeth.

>>> He comes to think “insufferable” fits her the best. That thought rings in his head while he is standing in the stable, his eye on anything but her. He was informed she wished to pick a horse, and he begrudgingly agreed to come, only to keep up the pretense.

What turns out to be much harder is for him to keep restraint. The dress she’s wearing might as well be a chemise — it’s just as light and white, and much to his discomfort, it also tirelessly risks hiking up to expose more of her legs.

Discomfort, mayhaps, isn’t the right word for it.

He stays out of her way but, unsurprisingly, he ends up looking — at how she walks, spring in her step, swinging her hips. She gives each horse a piece of apple and feeds them by hand, strokes their muzzles, and then she mounts and rides them, one by one. She grabs the reins, her foot easily finds the stirrup, and as she swings her leg over the saddle, her dress slips up, showing a few inches of her skin.

He swallows thickly, glances more intently — over her dainty ankles, bending of her knees, he notes how smooth her skin is, soaking up the sun. Her dress then billows slightly, and his eye glides higher, hungry, follows up the contour of her thighs that bounce a little as the horse gallops.

He feels it blooming — a sensation with no name that travels from the lower chest down to his very navel, then spreads and tightens all that’s underneath.

He is so deep in his enthrallment, he doesn’t hear the steps approaching until there’s someone standing next to him. Quentyn stays silent for a minute, throwing him a sideways glance.

“My sister’s always been terribly picky,” the man says out of the blue, “And usually it’s hard to meet all of her demands,” — it doesn’t seem like it’s the horses he is talking of. The vagueness of it makes Aemond focus as he takes his eye off her but Quentyn doesn’t elaborate, giving him a smile instead. “I do admit, your patience is commendable. Some other man would’ve already interfered just to wrap the process up.”

“I was under the impression she doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Aemond replies evasively.

“You guessed it right,” Quentyn titters, his tone veiled with the same unclear meaning when he adds, “The only thing left for us all is to accept it,” and with that, he goes to join his sister.

When Aemond — tamely, almost yielding — takes a peek at her, his gaze collides with Oberyn’s who clearly watched them talk. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to stay away, but the mischief in him pairs really well with danger. He grants Aemond a nod, switching attention back to her, his threats unspoken for the meantime.

For just a second, it gives Aemond pause as he finds it odd that no one brings up their wedding, and no announcements have been made ever since she came. He doesn’t mull over it for long because her laughter interrupts his thoughts (or maybe he just yearns for any chance to look at her). She rides around the yard, her hair floating in the wind, a little breathless but breathtaking, her lips enticing and her curves making his throat dry.

He tries to ground himself, to look for explanations, for some reprieve from the entrancing spell he’s under — he’s never been so close to losing reason —

out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of guards dropping their gaze in poor attempts to stop themselves from gawking; it reins his passion, bringing back his jealousy instead. He’s way too used to seeing himself unworthy to even entertain the thought of having her, and his denial prickles. He wants to burn his feelings out, and anger helps with that — it breaks out and engulfs him fast, hardening both his heart and gaze.

“Quentyn is the friendliest of the two, and you couldn’t hold a conversation?” Aegon appears out of nowhere, seemingly displeased despite the bottle in his hand. “Must you always be so gruff? I stayed behind in hopes you’d make it work!” he waves at Oberyn then glares at Aemond, waiting for a reply. “Are you pretending to be deaf or...?”

“Must she test my patience?” Aemond mutters, his tone not jealous but exasperated, his eye boring into her, “Putting herself out like that for all the men to see.”

Aegon being speechless is a rare sight. He cannot fathom it at first, looking from Aemond back to her, confusion sobering him up. And then he grins, realization creeping up on him; there are some things he’s always quick to notice.

“It’s funny that you say that,” he leans in to tell him and catches Aemond’s gaze, “Since it’s just you who’s staring,” Aegon pats him on the back and leaves to greet her brothers.

Aemond tries to choke it down — his irritation and his shame combined, but it’s too much for him to handle, his head and heart clearly in conflict. He doesn’t wait for her to make a choice, retiring without sparing her a glance (a fear nibs at him that if he looks at her once more, he will stay rooted to the ground).

He doesn’t leave his chambers for the remainder of the day, dining all alone and fuming all the same. He’s usually good at curbing his emotions but he is having trouble understanding them, wanting nothing more than to erase all memories of her. But even in his solitude, he catches himself thinking — about her cunning smile and swaying hips, her eyes on him, his hands wanting to roam and touch and —

Aemond shoves unwanted thoughts away and goes to bed earlier than usual. He remains steadfast in his resolve to find some peace, he makes a conscious effort to shift his focus to all the boring, random things his mind can come up with until he is too tired to care.

But then he falls asleep, and his subconscious welcomes her. He sees her right before his eye in that obscenely short white dress, there are no people in the yard, her tantalizing moves all meant for him. She hops off her black horse and walks to him without a single word — anticipation makes him drop his guard and hold his breath — and then he feels her lips on his, her body pressing into him, his hunger for her ruining his self-control, the kiss is searing, suffocating, driving him insane, his fingers pulling up her dress —

he wakes up painfully aroused.

He lays in bed, his heartbeat rushing, his breathing ragged, and vision blurred. While he’s still grasping for the remnants of his dream, he sneaks his hand into his breeches, wishing he could rip her dress off and sheath himself inside her, spread her on his bed, and drink every salacious sound she makes... It only takes him a few strokes to spill over his fingers; he can’t remember if he’s ever reached his peak so fast.

And only then, as he comes down from his high, it hits him, like lightning in the dark — in spite of her remarks, her audacity, her dresses, and every cruel adjective he’s found for her, he’s never wanted anyone so badly. Aemond sits up abruptly, his sleep gone, giving way to stubbornness that comes hand in hand with reticence. He persuades himself that he’ll suppress this — the spark, the pleasure that he craves, and he won’t be a slave to his desires.

He’ll rid himself of feelings, of this lust. Inevitably it will wane.

>>> It doesn’t.

Desire is a guest that never leaves, unwanted but demanding space, attention, time. It slips into his thoughts the moment he wakes up, it whispers in his ears, never giving up, it’s layered in between his clothes and his skin. He hides it well from everyone; it lodges deeper into him.

Desire is a cherry in her mouth, each fruit she bites in, savors, drinks the juice from. He doesn’t want to watch — he can’t take his eye off her, caught in his fervor like in undertow, the flavor of her lips the only one he truly yearns for.

Desire bruises more than does a hit, cuts deeper than a blade, and there’s no weapon he can fight it off with. His training brings him no relief, and he can’t sweat it out or wash it off him, and even while he soaking in a bath, it feels like longing only rises back with steam.

Desire waits for him at night, stands by his bed, slides right under the covers with him. He dreams of her, and in those dreams, her body sings under his every touch, trembles from his praise, his hands and mouth paint her with marks and kisses. He wakes up with his chest aflame and out of breath, and then it takes all of his willpower not to crawl to her.

It staggering how much he really wants her, and he hates himself for it.

>>> It’s been three weeks and they have barely shared a word. He does his best to cut down their encounters and avoid her, he doesn’t argue and takes no offense, he hopes that if he pulls back just enough she will give up and let him be.

Aemond spends his evenings in the study, his table piled with books, and for a couple of hours, it does help to take his mind off things. The night already steals in while he’s searching through the shelves for scrolls, too caught up in the process to pick up the creaking of his door.

Her gaze nearly scalds him. He only looks up out of surprise — and then he freezes at the spot, his heart a stone that plummets to his stomach.

Out of everything she’s worn, this dress might be the one to bring him to his knees — the cutting out the front so low, his eye falls in the hollow between her breasts; he envies fervently the golden chain that rests there. He takes in her whole body, bare arms, and flaunting forms, all clad in deep dark green. He’s never seen her pick that color (and he can’t help but think she put it on for him).

He’s brought back from his stupor when their eyes meet — and startled by the determination in her gaze.

“Ser Criston told me that you missed your training,” she stately starts walking toward him, “Quite a few times this week.”

“I found myself preoccupied with other things,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, the scrolls forgotten.

“With reading, I assume?” she almost sounds aggrieved (he wants to ask what else she’d rather have him do) but then her tone gets jaunty. “Would you mind if I join?”

“Actually, I would,” Aemond takes his eye off her, his coldness feigned. “I’d like to avoid distractions.”

And more than anything, he would like for her to leave; she’s not the one to give up so easily. “Maybe we can learn some things together?” she nonchalantly insists, and that ambiguity — deliberate or not — leaves his face suffused with pink.

“I highly doubt you take interest in the things I study,” he manages, his crudeness biting his own tongue.

She only sneers, already nearing his table. “You surely rush to judgment.”

“And I am never wrong.” (Although he’s been wrong once before.)

“That’s very humble of you.” (And she’s tenacious with her intent to prove him wrong again.)

“I am surprised you know that word,” he replies too hastily — and instantly regrets his outburst.

And his attempts to get away from her could’ve been valiant, but only left him feeling like a coward.

She’s got enough courage to spare. “Oh, my apologies, did I strike a nerve?” her hip grazes a stack of books. “You sound so displeased with my behavior,” she puts her hands right on his table, her cleavage in full view.

“You interrupted my studies,” he’s looking only at her face.

“Just this one time,” she clears up, her sly smile is a dare, “Sounds like you have quite a few complaints.”

Damned be her dress and the day he laid his eye on her. “It’s clear as day that we have nothing in common,” he hisses, her persistence molding his anger. “From your bawdy humor to your reckless behavior and your...,” he struggles to push the word through his mouth, “vulgar dresses — everything suggests that we will never make a good couple.”

He catches a gleam in her gaze but it’s not threatening nor hurt — and when the corners of her mouth curl up, her face expression actually looks amused. “I didn’t realize my presence tormented you that much,” she crosses arms over her chest, her hands under her breasts; he looks away that very instant. “So will it please you if I take my vulgar dresses and go back home and leave you be?”

He wants to say it will — he’s thought of it for days — but now he isn’t sure. The dreams he has of her will hardly be enough as every image he collected has got nothing on the real form.

“Is there anything that does?” she asks him suddenly and takes a step in his direction, and then another one.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s backed against the wall. The air in the room heats up, and Aemond moves back to his table, fingers holding to its edge to find some balance. “...Does what?”

“Please you,” she swiftly clarifies, now standing at arm’s length.

“That isn’t any of your concern,” he wants to glance away and yet, his eye is drawn to her.

“I am inclined to disagree,” her lips stretch into a smile. “Shouldn’t a wife know how to make her husband feel good?”

“We are not married yet,” he tries to argue weakly.

“I’d like to learn beforehand,” but her assertiveness works quicker than his doubts.

The time is still, and seconds drag like hours. His heart leaps at the thought of being all alone with her, his concentration crumbling, his self-restraint already hanging by a thread.

“The way you look at me suggests you aren’t averse to the idea,” she tells him in a low voice, her eyes two glowing embers. Aemond gulps, she deftly rounds the table. “You act so cold and so collected,” she muses, coming closer, and he helplessly steps back. “But I am yet to meet a man who would deny himself the pleasure of laying with a woman,” her voice is warm and warming; his legs bump into the chair, prompting him to sit.

He hesitates for barely a moment but his quick reaction fails him because the next thing he knows, she’s standing next to him, her golden chain casting a blinding glint — he blinks — and then she’s straddling him, her thighs on either side of his.

Aemond’s mouth falls slack as he becomes aware: to lift her he will have to touch her. He glances down at her legs that sneaked out through the long slits of her dress, all bare to the very hips before him.

“I wonder if you are too spoiled by the attention of the ladies? Mayhaps you’ve got so satiated, the intimacy doesn’t bring you any joy,” she runs her fingers up his chest.

He only finds it in himself to shake his head. She isn’t satisfied with that reaction. “Or do you simply find it boring and have a taste for something else?”

Objection bubbles in his throat but he gets no chance to voice it — he barely registers a clinking sound before he feels cold steel pressed under his chin, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his own dagger. He meant to leave it at the training yard but it completely slipped his mind.

“Does this work better? I’ve heard that you Targaryens have peculiar tastes,” her other hand lands on his shoulder, his chest is stirring with emotions he can’t read.

“That’s not— No,” he mumbles, his voice raw, the weight and feeling of her body overwhelming.

She cocks her brow at him in disbelief. “No? So it’s just plain old satiation then?” she makes no attempt to press the blade but her questions do get pushy. “Must be so hard when women throw themselves at you ever since you were... What was it, ten? Twelve years of age?”

He would expect her to sound teasing — instead, he hears disappointment. That’s the reaction he is used to getting.

“My brother took me to a pleasure house when I was ten-and-three. He said it’s time to get it wet,” he forces out, “And it was...,” awful and humiliating, something he wishes to forget, “...Not what you are describing.”

Her face expression changes — first surprised, then splashed with sadness, and her every feature softens. Aemond sees her opening her mouth to speak but he averts his gaze, abasement scrabbling at him. His eye falls closed, and he keeps thinking that now she will get up and leave, and there won’t be any wedding, and he’s got no reason to get so overly upset already, and —

she sheathes his dagger without a word, the unexpected movement making him breathe out.

And then she dips her head down, and her lips fall on his jaw. Aemond inhales sharply. Her mouth feels softer than it was in all his dreams, and she plants kisses down his throat, moving to the part of it the blade was pressed to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands while hers lock nimbly around his neck.

She pulls back slowly, and he dares to look at her again, trying to catch the merest shadow of pretense but there is none.

“I am truly sorry that you had to go through that,” she tells him quietly. “Have you tried some more since then?”

“I did,” his answer comes off hurried, blank, “I... I am aware of how the act is done.”

“How the act is done? Aemond, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all,” she pouts, then gently caresses his face, her voice a tender whisper when she adds, “But it should be.”

He stiffens, waiting for the discomfort to wake up, for the aversion to coil his guts, to trigger the jarring need to move away. None of that happens. Instead, he feels her fingers running through his hair, a calming motion bringing only comfort, her every touch relieving tightness in his chest.

“You seem too tense... We have to work on that,” she joyfully murmurs. “Unless, of course, my worry causes you distress,” her fingers stop, “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”

“No,” he rasps, he almost pleads, “D-don’t.”

She hums with satisfaction, bringing her hands down to unclasp his leather doublet, knowing she won’t meet any resistance. He should resent her for this but he doesn’t (he didn’t and he won’t). The air lays cold over his shirt, and Aemond shivers; she moves her fingers down his firm chest with an unspoken admiration.

“Tell me how it usually goes,” she inquires, one of her hands finding its way back to his silver locks. “Do you find pleasure in undressing them?”

Her warmth envelopes him, scented with cinnamon and peaches. “They come without much clothes,” Aemond blurts out, earning another hum from her.

“And what about you?” she glances curiously at him.

“I don’t... I don’t like them touching me,” he timidly avows, and saying it to her does bring somewhat of a relief.

With both of her hands, she cradles his face, thumbs gently contouring his cheeks — he all but melts into her palms. “And yet you are so responsive to the touch,” her voice praises, “So pretty.”

She leans in again, leaving a kiss at the hollow of his throat — and then her mouth travels up, ardent and steady, and he squirms in place. Not out of discomfort.

“You are not supposed to rush it if you want it to feel good,” she whispers in his ear and moves back to catch his gaze. “You never rush into fighting so why love making should be any different?”

Astonishment brightens his face, and she chuckles lightly. “I must confess, I did enjoy watching you train, even though you never noticed. The way you move and twirl your sword,” she’s recollecting breathy, “You are so lithe and fast and so resistant... An infatuating sight.”

She holds his gaze and lifts her hand — he follows it, unblinking, until it finds one of the straps — she hooks it with her fingers. “Fairly soon it made me wonder how would your hands feel... on me,” his heart jolts at her words.

Slowly, she moves the strap aside, baring her breast for him; Aemond’s breathing hitches. She takes his hand in hers, planting a kiss over his knuckles — and then lets his fingers graze her naked skin.

“It was so cruel of you to rob me of my pleasure,” she laments, but he can barely hear a thing, his eye wide as he fixes on the soft swell of her breast, on how her nipple peaks so eagerly under his touch.

She guides his hand over her chest, down to her ribs and waist, letting him brush her every curve, placing his fingers firmly on her hip. And then she reaches for his other hand and lowers the other strap; his body trembles. The layers of his reticence are all peeled at once, leaving his desire raw and undisguised, unshackled. He’s drawn to fondle, clutch at her plump breasts but her grip is tight and taunting, not letting his fingers roam free.

Still, when both his hands sink into her hips, he realizes that he’s getting harder by the second.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her. With a controlled, torturously slow move she drags her clothed core over his straining cock. His mouth stays closed but there’s a sound — a muffled moan caught in his throat.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” she teases, lightly tugging on his hair, her lips reaching the column of his neck. “With how much you read, I hoped you’d be more generous with words,” each of her kisses weightless like a drop of rain but then her mouth finds a spot below his ear and suckles at it, pulling a whimper from his chest.

He thinks he should... his mind goes blank after another movement of her hips, and she picks up the pace, merciless and sensuous. He tries biting down his moans but only hurts his mouth. She notices, her rapt eyes on him, and puts her finger on his lower lip:

“Please, don’t be shy with me,” she coos, her gentle touch soothing his bitten flesh, “Our desires coincide,” she earnestly affirms him — and the spark erupts and drags him into pure bliss.

He feels that his arousal leaks, his breeches way too tight to hide it, his fingers dig into her supple skin, but she gives no complaints. He watches breathlessly through his hooded eyelid as she grinds against him, then looks over her bouncing breasts, her nipples pebbled, and the pressure curls somewhere down his spine. She peppers him with kisses — the angles of his face, neck, everything that she can reach, except for his desirous mouth. And yet the softness of her lips and hands, her skin that’s draped with the redolent scent, the rhythm of her hips all bring him closer to the edge.

Her forehead is pressed to his, their lips an inch away but never fully touching. “Let go for me,” she says against his mouth, “My handsome, fierce dragon.”

That does it for him. He harshly presses her to him, then shudders with a strangled moan and comes undone, his eye squeezed shut as her name quivers in his mouth. The pleasure whirls him in and leaves him drained and stunned, a little bit light-headed.

It takes Aemond a minute to recover before he finds her gaze again — and in another minute he discerns her shallow breaths, her parted lips, brows slightly furrowed. He wants to ask her if she reached her peak, if he can help her with it —

but she pulls back.

She stands up and only briefly grabs his shoulder, steadying herself, then promptly puts the straps back on, fixing her dress. He wants to lend a hand but she moves it away, leaning in to lightly caress his face. “No, you don’t get to have me yet. I want you to admit it first, to say that you want me,” her words are laced with dignity but cooling to his mind.

She steps back, cruelly fast, the only consolation is her naughty tone. “Until then, I have to satisfy myself some other way. But I will think of you while doing it, my dear prince,” she promises, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and then walks out without looking back.

The silence feels unwelcome in the room and hangs over the ceiling like a cloud, but Aemond he is too dazed to move, spent and perplexed to wrap his head around it.

Desire, it seems, has come to stay.

But it’s not the only thing he’s feeling.

✧... YES, there will be a second part, it’s already in the works! ✧ and yes, I didn’t bother to rename Pedro’s character 'cause I adore Oberyn sue me

✧ just to clarify, I usually age Aemond up to 20 (or however old Ewan looks to you ;) ✧ I got inspired after watching the video for ROSALÍA’s “La Fama” (give it a watch, she is soooo 🥵) but I only found it because of this gorgeous gifset so shout-out to OP for giving me inspiration

✧ my recent fic (couples who kill together, stay together 🔥) ✧ my masterlist

thank you @amiraisgoingthruit for letting me tag you in every silly story of mine, hope you’ll like this one (if anyone else wants to be tagged, don’t be shy)

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

2K notes · View notes

kotoku · 27 days

Note

Hiii~

Can I request aventurine and Dr ratio (separately or together ur choice) with klee reader

Maybe Sunday too?

I just want chaos to unfold-

Take care ☺️

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ, ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀ ʀᴀᴛɪᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴋʟᴇᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

pairings - sunday & klee! reader / aventurine & klee! reader / dr ratio & klee! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ klee! reader/ platonic relationships/ familial relationships/ chaos

warnings - a bit of angst (?), might be ooc i'm sorry guys T_T

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ Whether you met Sunday because you’ve been unknowingly stirring up trouble in the dreamscapes or you met him by chance, he’d be a bit worried and concerned about a child roaming alone in Penacony

↺ He may or may not slowly adopt you into his routine as he always finds himself being greeted by you on the streets of Penacony (or called by a family member because mayhem has been occurring in certain parts of the dreamscapes)

↺ Gazing upon the damage you had done in the dreamscape as you stared at him with wide innocent eyes, he couldn’t be upset with you but rather surprised by how much power this unknown child has

↻ Sunday would be a lot like Jean, but he’d be a little more lenient when it comes to you

↺ He’d probably have a small area/room that’s your designated play area whenever you’re with him and sometimes he’d have to give you a time-out for blowing up something in the dreamscape

↺ Said time out wouldn’t last long as he’d feel guilty looking at your saddened state

↻ Sometimes whenever the other family members had a meeting with Sunday, they would see you playing around with your favorite stuffed animal but wouldn’t dare question your presence (you had quite the reputation for being.. explosive…)

↻ I think when it comes to each character with a Klee! Reader, they’d have those animal backpacks with the leash attached to it just because you’re so chaotic

↺ One moment they would be walking with you and then the next you’ve run off to somewhere that caught your attention

↺ For Sunday’s mental well-being, he got you this backpack to help him keep an eye on you whenever you were distracted

↻ As I mentioned in previous posts, Sunday, whenever he’s anxious or worried for you, would pace around his office with his feathers just puffing up and some of them popping right off due to his stress

↺ When you are found safe and sound, he’d give you a tight hug and you’d start playing with the feathers that were scattered on the ground

↺ He’s.. amused by it

↻ Honestly, Sunday had no idea what to do with you as you were found to be alone and it didn’t seem like you knew any of your family members (Just going to ignore Albedo and Klee’s mother for my sake…)

↺ Eventually, he warmed up to you a lot and considers you his little sister, which Robin also adores having around

↻ Sunday would be very protective of you but a little.. nervous about your abilities, he knew to an extent you were capable of handling things yourself

↺ But you are still a child so he’s extra cautious about the dangers in the dreamscapes and makes sure that you don’t get into trouble

↺ Otherwise, he’d have to confiscate your bombs.. which he really didn’t want to do because then you’d be super upset

↺ He tried to confiscate them one time but that ended up with you ignoring him for the remainder of the day and you were sulking in your playroom

↻ Sunday, during the Charmony Festival, would keep a very close eye on you because of what has been going on within Penacony

↺ He’ll keep you in his line of sight at all times, whether it’s him personally accompanying you around or having you sit near him in his conference room, he wouldn’t want you wandering too far off

↺ You’d find Sunday mumbling to himself while looking at some documents, but you never really understood them so you always stuck to what you were doing

↻ Sunday is very fond of you, and he’d do anything to ensure your safety

-----

Sunday was seated at his conference table, hand holding his chin in thought as he scanned through the multitude of documents. He carefully looked them over and over again, thoroughly reading through the letters written by a family member he assigned an assignment to.

With the Charmony Festival coming in full swing, Sunday wanted to make sure that things would run as smoothly as possible, despite the growing concern that was nagging him from the depths of his consciousness. He couldn’t afford to become distracted…

That is what he thought, but yet he still found himself engaging in your little antics. Although things were growing busier and busier by the day, he wanted to ensure that you were alright and safe, playing a couple of your games when you pleaded for him to stay. He didn’t find the idea of playing with bombs safe, but if it was what made you happy, then your wish was his command.

As he stood up to roam the halls of his mansion, he gazed out into the open through the grand windows, a million thoughts racing through his mind. The future of Penacony contained countless outcomes and he could only grow restless every time he thought of it. But having you around to distract him from his worries with your silly antics, even if for just a fleeting moment, made him feel as if everything was going to be alright…

He would make sure of that.

-----

↻ Aventurine would also find your chaotic nature interesting, in fact, he might even indulge in it by taking a role in your little schemes

↺ He’d be a little concerned when you go a bit too far with your bombs and antics, so he’d try nudging you into a not-so-concerning situation

↻ Aventurine would find you when you got into a little scuffle with his subordinates, somehow destroying some IPC property and getting an earful from his coworkers

↺ Those IPC grunts would be terrified of you if they saw what you could do, especially because you’re a CHILD playing with BOMBS (They’re seriously concerned about who raised you and why you are the way you are.. or how you even managed to have bombs on you??)

↻ He’d send them off to go do something else (or to go bother someone else..) and bend down to your level to ask about your guardians or caregiver

↺ When you are confused about what he is talking about, his concern would only grow before he’d take you to find a trusted person to watch over you as he was busy with an assignment

↺ However, he would only come back to find that you escaped a worker’s watchful gaze and were playing with that bomb toy you had on you (Docodo? Cododo?? Whatever you said its name was…)

↻ When Aventurine hangs around you a little more during his free time (whether he’s done with work or doesn’t feel up to gambling), inquiring about the little fella you had on you and about your background

↺ He’d kind of take you under his wing from there on out, having you accompany him on missions if he determined they weren’t dangerous and were minor assignments

↺ Topaz would find it surprising seeing him around with a little kid, she’d even be wary about his intentions with you as he had suddenly popped up with a small kid out of nowhere

↺ She’d introduce you to Numby who, to your delight, would play and spend a bit of time with you

↻ Sometimes you’d accompany Aventurine on his casino trips, but he’d try leaving you out of them as it wasn’t really a kid-friendly setting

↺ So sometimes you’d in up in a more appropriate setting like a small daycare where you were safe (yet you’d sometimes pop up next to him in a game and catch him off guard)

↻ Aventurine, as someone with a lot of money to freely spend, would spoil you with a variety of things that he’d think you would like

↺ You aren’t necessarily a spoiled child, but he’d still get you the things that have caught your interest, whether you voice what you liked or not

↻ When he passes by a shop that has a showcase of kid backpacks, he would see one with a plush animal and a leash and he’d automatically get it for you

↺ You wouldn’t really care about the leash part as you’re too distracted by the cute plush animal backpack, so it really was no problem for Aventurine

↺ He’d be walking around the IPC’s headquarters or Penacony with the backpack leash in his hand, you following him yet straying whenever you saw something

↺ He’d have to give the leash a small tug to make sure you weren’t wandering too far off though

↻ If you did something dangerous such as blowing up something that belongs to the IPC, Aventurine would vouch for you, becoming your partner in crime (Him sending a sly wink your way as you giggle innocently, hands covering your mouth to stifle your laughter)

↺ Topaz would be the one scolding you before Aventurine tries defending your honor, but then he’d end up getting scolded by her too

↻ Aventurine would try his best to protect your innocence, not wanting you to see the dangers that linger on the different worlds he ends up on or what may invade the IPC’s headquarters

↺ He’s seen and witnessed firsthand hand of losing his innocence at a young age, those memories of his past still haunt him to this day and he doesn’t want you living with the same burden so he tries his best to protect you from danger (even if you’re somewhat capable of protecting yourself)

-----

“_____, did you destroy a piece of the IPC’s belongings again!?” Topaz asked, a stern look on her face as you stood there innocently with your hands tucked behind your back.

“No… I didn’t do anything I swear! You can even ask Dodoco!” You answered, shoving Dodoco out in front of you as if to emphasize your statement. Topaz sighed, shaking her head.

“_____… I know you want to play around but sometimes you need to be careful of where you are. You could get hurt or, well.. damage things that aren’t yours.” Crossing her arms, Topaz looked at you with a softer gaze. You persisted in your stance.

“But I swear! I didn’t do it!” You cried out, holding Dodoco closer to your chest. “Y-you can even ask Mr. Aventurine!”

“I heard my name?” Aventurine slinked to the spot right next to you, giving Topaz a questioning yet sly look. Topaz couldn’t help but groan when he popped up next to you, feeling as if she was on the verge of being teamed up against.

“Mr. Aventurine! Please tell Miss Topaz that I wasn’t the one who blew up some of the IPC’s equipment!” You begged, tugging at his coat as he looked down at you with his cat-like eyes.

He gave you a closed-eyed smile, patting the top of your head. “Is that what’s going on? Well, I have unfortunate news for you Topaz, as little _____ here was busy helping me out with an assignment.” Aventurine had a smug smile on his face as if to tease Topaz and tick her off, which worked.

Topaz, rolling her eyes, heaved a deep sigh. “Fine, I believe you, _____. You can go run off and play now.”

With a joyful smile on your face and a cheer, you thanked Topaz before turning to thank Aventurine, bowing slightly with a quiet giggle.

“Thank you Mr. Aventurine! Promise we’ll play next time?”

“I promise, _____. Now go play with Dodoco in your room, okay? I’ll check up on you later when I’m done with work.”

“Okay!”

-----

↻ Dr Ratio wasn’t necessarily fond of children…

↺ He understood that they weren’t the brightest of stars, but he could barely handle some of the behaviors they exhibited

↺ I imagine he’d be so disgusted because of how kids can be known for doing the weirdest stuff… (Picking their boogers, touching a variety of items, being unsanitary... the list goes on)

↻ When he meets you for the first time, he’s curious about the construction of your bombs and how you were able to make them

↺ To his disappointment, you are only able to draw crude drawings of the construction of your bombs and poorly explain how you built them

↺ He takes it upon himself to sample one of your bombs to see what they’re made of and how they’re made

↻ You’d invite him (more like drag him) to help you create and play with your bombs and he’d reluctantly follow you to where your room is

↺ Aventurine walking in on you playing dolls (or your bombs) with Ratio

-----

“How are you doing?”

“Mister Ratio, say it in your girl voice.”

“Sigh… How you doin’? 💅”

*Aventurine laughing before Ratio throws the doll he’s holding at him*

-----

↻ Ratio, knowing him, would tutor you if you went to a daycare or school, helping you understand your homework and teaching you about different subjects

↺ You wouldn’t comprehend half the things he’s teaching you but you follow along anyway

↺ Ratio would be genuinely happy if you were able to learn something new from him and apply it to your life

↻ Ratio is the type of teacher figure to give you random quizzes to test your knowledge and understanding but he rewards you with things like snacks or trinkets he gets from his trips

↻ Ratio would be delighted to talk about his trips to you, explaining the history and geography of the planets he has traveled to you when he comes back

↺ He would draw a small map for you to understand the general location of the places he’s visited

↻ You’d be excited to learn about what places he’s seen and you’d ask him a myriad of questions to which he’d patiently listen and answer

↺ The thought of Ratio being patient with a young child warms my heart, this is how he’d find out that maybe he can tolerate specific kids

↻ Ratio reading stories to you to help you fall asleep, but those stories would probably be academic books he uses to teach his students

↻ If you were to get in trouble for blowing something up, he’d show his disappointment and sternly give you a punishment that isn’t too harsh on you (he’d give you school work lol)

↺ Ratio would check in on you here and there when you’re in your room, if he finds that you’re asleep he’d tuck you in before looking over your work

↺ This makes me think of Ratio walking in to see that you had drawn him an artwork of the both of you with Dodoco (who he came to know as your prized friend)

↻ Ratio doesn’t have a clue who your parents or guardians are, so he tries to locate them at first to no avail (he ends up pretty much adopting you as his own kid)

↻ Sometimes you’d sit near his desk in his lecture hall when he was teaching his students, swinging your legs back and forth as you eyed everyone in the room

↺ His students find you adorable and get distracted by your presence at first before their professor sends them a chalk their way

↺ His students give you little gifts or snacks as they leave the room, a part of them hoping that Ratio’s rampage on his grade book will be softened by your happiness at the gifts you received

↺ He finds out what his students are doing, but lets them do it anyway since it’s making you happy (he’d probably set some limits though before you get way too much stuff)

-----

Veritas had just finished up his lecture with his students, organizing their work into neat stacks on one side of his desk. Once the last student had left his classroom, he took off his plaster head and sat it in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he saw a small empty chair to the left of his desk. It was where you normally sat.

The violet-haired man was then reminded of your absence due to the sudden sickness you had caught the day before. With a sigh, he turned back towards the ungraded stacks of paper on his desk and got to work. He’d try to be home before midnight.

…..

By the time he finished, it was already 9. Walking out of the campus, he was met with the emptiness the night brought with it. Students were already long gone, the handful of teachers that had stayed late already packed up and left for dinner, but he was running a bit late. So with a brisk pace, he set off in the direction of his home, the cool night air hitting his skin.

Once Veritas reached his destination, he quickly unlocked the door and went inside, the warmth of his home greeting him. His shoulders fell, the weight that had been put upon himself leaving his body as he could see a faint light coming from your room.

Slipping off his outerwear, he quietly walked across the hardwood floors and stopped outside of your bedroom door. Veritas listened for any signs that you might be awake, but nothing. He placed his hand on the door and gently pushed it open so he was able to enter.

You had left your bedside lamp on, with a couple of papers and crayons scattered across the desk you normally drew at. His eyes had landed on your small, curled-up form, snoring away beneath the comforters of your bed. He softly chuckled to himself, walking towards your bed and lifting the blanket so it reached your shoulders. You had stirred but only shuffled to get comfortable. Placing a small kiss on your forehead, Veritas got up to put away the crayons and papers you had left out.

While picking up and putting away the crayons in the correct order that was directed on the box, the bright, grainy colors on a paper caught his eye. He gently picked up a piece of paper that you seemed to have been working on while he was gone. It was a drawing of the both of you in a field of flowers, your best friend, Dodoco, in between the both of you. Veritas had to admit that it was cute, a small smile appearing on his face before he gathered the rest of your drawings and slid them into a folder.

When he had finished making sure that everything was neatly put away, Veritas moved to turn off the lamp, wishing you sweet dreams.

-----

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hey ya'll.. nice weather we've got here... 😀 i really need to blast through my requests-- wearesobackipromise.

#writing➠#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #hsr dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #hsr veritas ratio x reader #platonic #familial #fluff #sprinkle of angst #wearesoback

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bell4donn4 · 2 months

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Like a god - Luke Castellan smut blurb

Tw: masturbation, use of religious imagery, body worship, Luke being lowkey sub

<<take your panties off>> and you did.

You spread your leg open for Luke, who sat inches away from you.

His boxers were down to his knees, cock red and aching for attention.

you touched yourself, immediately moaning at the sensation of your cold fingers on your bare pussy.

He stared at you and every movement you made with a certain hunger in his eyes, like a starved man who’s being denied of a last meal.

He bit his own lip as he watched intently; you looked majestic- divine, almost. Luke assumed that that’s how Eve looked as she bit the apple.

And the feeling he had must have been the same Adam had as he watched his lover sin, moments before following her act.

He palmed himself, restraining from throwing his head back. He needed to see everything. He couldn’t let himself look away, not even for one second. He wanted to print the sinful image inside of his mind, he never wanted to forget.

He would’ve damn himself if he lost one your moans- one of the disperate whispers you made as you pushed two fingers in.

What a turn, for a good boy like him. The Camp’s golden boy sneaking around after curfew to consume his fantasies. You made him give in to his darkest desires.

His hips bucked forward, and in that moments his mind was emptied from thoughts. Finally feeling free from the constant pressure of the role he had, and from the cruelness of his absent Father. Of the God who created him.

If he could, he would’ve made you his God. He would’ve made altars and temples to worship you; A much more deserving creature.

He would’ve dedicated his whole life to you,like people did to Gods.

He would’ve prayed to you ever night.

But in fact, he did. To him, looking at you, touching you, making love to you felt like a rite, like a prayer.

A tail old as time, he liked to imagine the filthy things you did as that; a sacred action.

<<you look so beautiful>> he whispered.

And you nodded, taking in the compliment, speeding up.

He did as well, teasing his own self, torturing his angry tip.

The cabin was full of sounds, of short breaths and mumbled words.

The nonsense filled the silence.

<<you look so good too Luke- so god damn good>> you said, and it filled him with pride, making him almost chock.

He craved you more than anything else in the world, yet, he didn’t dare to touch you. That’s not what he needed in that moment, not what he wanted.

Luke has always wanted to feel seen, to feel safe and loved, and sitting at your feet, like a Christian sits at the feet of the Cross was enough for him to feel exactly that.

You, his God, stared at him like Jesus would stare at his disciples.

<<Y/n- I’m- >>

You nodded frenetically, your own orgasm getting closer and closer by the second.

<<yes! cum for me Luke>> you said, not as a demand, not as a order. You were so good to him, always merciful, always lenient; never mean, never demanding.

He came fast, as soon as you asked.

He complied at all of your requests, like a good follower does. He came, smearing his load in his own hand and on his stomach.

You did the same right after, a lewd moan leaving your mouth.

He still stared at you, chest rising and falling down at a fast pace, waiting patiently.

<<you did so good Luke>> your voice was broken by the fatigue.

<<t-thank you- ah- >>

#luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo series #luke castellan smut #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #percy jackson smut #pjo smut #pjo tv show #pjo boys #pjo disney+#charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x you

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bleuu-moon · 4 months

Text

thinking about sleazy cop!price who abuses his power to pull you over, just so he can have a feel of you <3

he recognises your car the minute it passes him on the road back into town, zooming past him doing something minor like five miles per hour over the limit. usually he’d turn a blind eye to it, but it’s been a slow night, hardly anything to get johns adrenaline going.

so he pulls out of his spot beside the side of the road, doing a u-turn, catching up behind you. before switching on his red and blues, and his siren, signalling you to pull over. almost instantly you comply, pulling to the side, not to his surprise of course, he already knows how pretty and compliant of the law you are — his two favourite things.

your window is already down by the time he reaches the drivers side, a flashlight in his hand, shining it in to see your pleading, worried eyes peering up at a him. fuck, he swears his cock twitches just at that. but, then you speak, all innocent and coy.

“is there a problem, officer?”

officer. to him, it’s like liquid gold coming from those lips of yours. he does consider just letting you off with a brief warning, but it’s a small town and he doesn’t miss the way you hold his gaze from across the bar, and he certainly doesn’t ignore the rumours that the local barmaid has a little crush on the local chief.

“step out the car for me, please” his tone comes out a little sterner than he wanted it to. but it makes you resist any hesitation hearing the seriousness in his voice. he steps aside, allowing you to climb out and become face to face with him.

“chief, have i—”

“come with me,” he gently grabs you by the elbow, leading you to his car behind yours, placing you right infront of it.

“i’m not entirely sure why this is necess—”

“sh,” he interrupts, his grip leaving your arm as he moves behind you. you feel his mouth brush against your ear, “you got anythin’ on you that can harm me?”

his voice is low and hoarse, vibrating against the skin of your ear, and it makes the hairs stand up on your neck. you shake your head cautiously, still baffled by whatever has gotten you in a policeman’s custody.

“good.”

instantly, his hand finds the back of your head, pressuring your front half down, your cheek pressed to the bonnet of his marked vehicle, rendering you speechless. however, you let him move you freely. his boot kicks out your feet, spreading your legs apart, before he’s grabbing your hands and placing them on the cars surface either side of your head.

he presses himself against you, straight away noticing the firmness of something against your ass. “you know, there’s never any reason to speed,” he grips against your hips, patting up and down against your clothing.

“its dangerous. for everyone else…more so yourself,” he shifts, beginning to pat down at your thighs, giving the area near the side of your ass a firm squeeze. “and i’d hate to see somethin happen to you, love.”

he strokes and squeezes up and down the same areas more than once, whilst you’re lay there feeling helpless. he knows he should be feeling guilty, using his position of power to fulfill a small fraction of his fantasy, but he doesn’t. it only makes his cock ache harder.

“you gonna do it again?”

he presses himself against you again, this time leaning over you, his hands right beside yours on the bonnet. his head dipped towards the side of your face that’s visible. you slightly shake your head.

“words, girl. use ‘em.”

“n-no. i won’t do it again, chief.”

“good.”

there’s a beat of silence. you, lay confused at the speeding accusation and, how this interaction has somehow filled you with a feeling of arousal. and john, who’s just bathing in the moment of being stuck to you and the way you fit so well underneath him.

“you’re free to go,” he rips through the quiet, pulling himself off you and stepping towards his drivers side, leaving you to peel yourself off the hood, “but next time, i wont be so lenient.”

#this is SO american like we don’t even say chief in the uk 😭 but i actually have no idea what we call a high ranking police officer tbh lol #but yeah #this came to me at 7 in the morning #get help #captain john price #price x female reader #price x reader #john price #cop!price

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graceloveswolves · 8 months

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Attempting To Escape Yandere Bucky Barnes Would Include...

Honestly, he's probably one of the easier Yandere's to escape from.

You've escaped from him a few dozens of time.

But he's Bucky, a highly trained assassin, he finds you every.single.time.

The longest you've been away from him was a couple of hours.

He doesn't like fighting or any altercations, especially from a his love.

He is already pretty lenient on you to begin with, just trying to get you to like him so you feel better/safer with him.

And so he can stop worrying about the entire situation.

He doesn't try to intimidate you in any means, the last thing he wants is you to be terrified of him.

Although he doesn't let you push him around, he will put his foot down and let you know he is serious and that you will never be with anyone but him.

Most of the time he already knows when you plan on escaping.

The trick to escaping him would to be nice to him, act like you trust him and start warming up to him, then wait for him to let his guard down

The moment he lets you have the slightest bit of freedom, RUN.

He would be very hurt, but not surprised.

He'd obviously have no trouble finding you.

But when you put up a fight when he catches you is when he really struggles.

He'll let you hit, kick, punch, bite, spit on him all you want as he drags you away from public sight.

You can say the most vile things to him as he takes you back to your shared house, he will agree with you.

Will probably low key cry about it later when he's by himself.

No matter how much you act up, he won't punish you harshly.

Man-handling you and chaining you to a bedpost is as far as punishing goes with Bucky.

He will accept any apology, but to make sure to give you twice as much.

Still feeds you, and gives you anything you want aside from freedom.

Rinse. Repeat.

He keeps letting you try, hoping you'll eventually get tired and just accept your fate with him.

Let's you have your space and privacy, and lets you run your mouth as much as you want and vent your anger out.

It's pointless though, he never responds unless he has a valid answer.

But he notice that just makes you angrier so he keeps his comments to himself.

Sometimes he will chain you to the living room couch and make you watch movies with him.

Or when he knows he won't have any distractions, he will let you sit freely on the couch.

But obviously he sets some rules.

In order to stay unchained you have to be in the same room as him within his sight at all times or they go back on.

Pull down gates all over the house.

He'll lock the hallway gate at night and let you roam between your bedroom, his bedroom, and the bathroom.

But he secretly hopes one day you'll lay down in his with him.

If you want something sometimes you will.

Whatever it was, you'd have it the next morning.

He has no problem calling you out when he sees you snooping or trying to find ways to escape.

"You do know I'm not that stupid, right."

"You know I can see you from right here right?"

"Now why am I going to say no to that?"

"Give. It. Now."

"Now see that is exactly why you have to be chained."

"Nope. Chains going back on."

"Hey!"

Has alarms set everywhere.

Once Bucky accidentally set one off at night, disarming it instantly and went to bed, upset that he probably woke you.

He forgot to arm it again and you realized after he went to bed and got out that night.

He walked in your room with a plate of waffles the next morning and about passed out when he realized what he forgot to do.

In total denial at first.

Really thought he had lost you for good.

Had Steve and Sam help him look for you.

You had no idea what Steve looked like, so when he ran into you it didn't raise any alarms.

You just wanted to get as far away as fast as you could

so when this random guy offered you a ride out of town you were in his car in a heartbeat.

You didn't know where you were so you didn't even know he was driving you straight back to Bucky's.

Bucky's place looked a lot different at night in the pitch black.

The random dude offered you to stay at his house.

You rejected, wanting to keep moving until you were at least three states away.

He then pulled up into a driveway and roughly yanked you out of the car and into the house, nowhere as gentle as Bucky was with you.

Once he threw you in, you were actually relieved to see Bucky and have clarity that this stranger wasn't going to kill you.

"Oh thank god. Wait WHAT!"

The only time Bucky has ever yelled at you.

He felt really bad afterwards but didn't apologize.

Steve still never lets you live it down.

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perpetuallydaydreaming · 1 year

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i cant focus because i cant keep you out of my head.

5 times james potter got distracted because of you.

warnings: overly dramatic james || 3.3k words || james potter x you || fluff fluff fluff, getting together, friends to lovers

a/n: this is the first work i’ve posted on this fandom, i have alot planned!! so please dont be shy and drop some messages! i also feel like i have to clarify, any dialogues that’s italicized means james isn’t listening

i. missing his games

“and another bludger hits potter on the shoulder! it is not his night folks! will this be an opportunity for hufflepuffs to get ahead?” the speaker hisses, loudly echoing throughout the field. along with the empathetic oohs of the crowd.

james groans rubbing his shoulder quickly, for what seemed like the nth time tonight, before going into the scoring formation as practiced.

usually, he wouldn’t even hear the commentator during the game, he would be too into the game to notice any other noise other than his own breathing . but tonight’s game is different.

tonight, you weren’t there watching him.

he knows this for a fact, as he had been continuously looking in the stands. his focus foregoing the incoming buldgers, instead hoping to catch a glimpse of your messy hair and the abundant layer of clothes, you always wear to combat the cold in the stands. his eyes would quickly scan through the students, in hopes to spot you cheering and grinning as you have always had.

he had circled the area you usual vacant four times now, and still no sign of you anywhere.

he could hear geoffrey shouting at him to focus, zooming past him with the quaffle at hand. he could practically hear the hissing complaints and grumbles of minnie in the stands but when he fails to see you, he’s not inclined to care at all.

“james! what in the bloody hell are you doing?!” he could hear marlene shriek in frustration as he skidded to a stop, and pondered your whereabouts.

where were you?

you had always watched his games. always. even when you two were fighting or not talking to each other, you would always be there cheering him on.

he was sure you weren’t in detention, professors were usually more lenient during quidditch season. not to mention you don’t really get into much mischief as he, himself does.

“mckinnon scores even with a distracted captain!”

merlin, were you sick? is that why you were a no-show? he had heard you sniffling the other day, but you said you were fine. james knew that you rarely ever get sick, but when you do—it was the worst it could ever be.

knowing you, you had probably reassured your friends that you were fine and to leave you be. you never did know how to take care of yourself. so, james being the self-appointed best friend takes this responsibility of nursing you back to health very seriously.

he was about to go fly over your dormitory window and help you but then a heavy speeding bludger came speeding into his way. he had barely dodged the thing and suddenly all the noises of the game came rushing back into his ears.

right, he thinks. he should probably finish this first and then go see you straight after.

ii. passing notes with a person that isn’t him

james was having a particularly pissy day.

when he had the epiphany on why you had missed his game. james had rushed points after points, in hopes to end the game as quickly as possible. the game ending with gryffindor as the winner, by 120 points.

never mind celebrating, he hadn’t even thought of the fact he had broken an all-time scoring record in a single game and came rushing to your dorms. thoughts of you lying sick in bed, swimming in his mind.

but you weren’t lying sick in bed.

in fact, you weren’t in the dorms at all. or the common room. or the library. or the hospital wing. or even in the entire bloody castle (he checked). not only were you not in breakfast, the morning after the game you didn’t watch. now, he has the pleasure of seeing you blush and fuss, passing notes with a bloke from ravenclaw during potions.

“now this is detrimental to the potion, some have lost fingers when they neglected this step so pay attention—“

when did you even meet this guy? you were always hanging out with james. so it’s rare for him to see you with somebody he hasn’t met before.

especially, someone this ugly.

“who’s the arse talking to y/n.” james whispered harshly to sirius.

sirius, who for once, was listening in class had to stop and look at james with a confused look, from the sudden conversation.

james gave no clarification, his eyes still glaring heavily at the offending sight.

ah, sirius thought. an almost laugh leaving his mouth. “that’s charlie wilson, i reckon.” sirius whispered back. fighting the strong urge to grin as he added, “birds quite fancy him, i heard. something about how dreamy the lad is or something.” twirling his quill. already satisfied with the impending chaos he had stirred.

meanwhile james could hardly sit still, seconds away from erupting. he scoffs when he sees you blush.

pale hair, pale eyes and an even paler skin. he looked like a white bedsheet, is what he is! nothing dreamy about a bedsheet! james certainly hadn’t thought his bedsheets dreamy. surely you hadn’t either!

“failure to follow these steps strictly can be harmful.” slughorn droned on.

but it was nothing but a buzzing noise to james, as he feels the sudden urge to grab the silly paper full of your beautiful handwriting and his chicken scrawls and rip it to shreds.

iii. going to hogsmeade without him

james was forced into the trip to hogsmeade by remus. claiming some rubbish about how james has become a shell of a man, or how he dampens the mood. and some borderline blasphemous statement about how snivellus seems to be better company than him lately.

so to prove all the nay-sayers wrong, here he was trudging along the stoned pathway. looking gloomy as ever, as his friends drag him from store to store.

nothing seemed to be cheering him up, remus had thought. but james have always had the flare for the dramatics, so remus wasn’t too worried. instead continued on like his friend isn’t unraveling like the threads in an old sweatshirt.

“why am i even here?” james had groaned, eliciting an amused smirk from sirius and a wry smile from remus.

he was on the verge of insanity, really he was. when he sees it in his peripheral. the unquestionably familiar layers of clothing and your giddy smile as you went into a bookstore with the same gremlin from class.

stopping abruptly, garnering the attention of his friends and walked briskly to the store. offering no sort of explanation, but his mates followed anyway. having seen you enter too. busybodies as they are, they’re curious how this will play out.

“it’s the same lad,” hummed sirius, peeking through the door.

remus raised a brow, interest piqued. “same lad? what’d you mean?”

“wilson was having a quick bants with our dear y/n the other day.”

“really now,”

sirius wolfishly grinned, “you reckon y/n fancies him?”

james scoffed, sounding very closely to a growl. “as if.”

“now, james, no need to be narky.” remus teased.

all three hiding two shelves away from you. james couldn’t hear you but he could see you through the crack of the books, if he crouched down. he saw your mouth moving and smiling. a view, he realized he hadn’t seen in a while.

“now that i think about, y/n hasn’t been around lately, has she?” remus had voiced, his tone feigning an air of innocence and ignorance.

sirius, then followed suit, rubbing his chin looking forlorn. “now that you mention it moony, that sounds about right.”

“prongs,” they called out, hoping to see james puff out, red in the face and stomp away like a petulant child. but instead their teasing was met with silence.

he couldn’t believe this! you haven’t spoken a word to him all week and here you were cozying up to a practical stranger! yous had the audacity to even laugh at whatever pathetic excuse of a joke he just said to you. albeit, he hadn’t heard the joke but he sure it was trash either way.

“think we lost him padfoot.” remus snickered at the glowering and helpless look james had etched on his face.

the two of you walking to the counter, holding piles of parchments and paints and laughing and blushing and standing way too close to each other.

really, have you no shame?

iv. biting your lips

james had a mission. to finally talk to you after two weeks of radio silence. to corner you, no matter what, and demand explanation for your recent rendezvous and the lack of his presence with said rendezvous.

but you were making it hard for him to find you, let alone talk to you. he can’t seem to find you in the map anywhere either. lately not finding you and not talking has becoming an unwelcome norm for him.

classes you two shared was almost non-existent since all of the classes you attended were all advanced classes.

he had hoped that during potions would be the time to talk to you but before he could even say hello to you, chalk had taken your attention and quickly pulled him down to sit with you during class.

you always seemed to be whispering about something whenever he sees you two. heads close to one another and soft laughter always leaving your lips. it’s like you didn’t even notice you haven’t talked to him for weeks now.

“oh there you are james! i wanted to discuss some strategy for the finals against slytherins.” john bell going into spiel of his tactics for the game.

did he do something that put you off? i mean, yeah, you two were only friends but he was hoping that he was starting to be more than that to you. at least, the same way that you became more for him too.

or was it just him?

“i heard evermonde complaining during breakfast that regulus black had to sit out of the game because he’s sick. so they replaced their seeker with a total novice!” bell excitedly recounted the information, unaware that their captain couldn’t be bother to listen at all.

if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, then you should’ve said so in the first place. instead of making him look like a fool!

and like some sort of miracle there you were at the end of the hall, alone.

breathing in deep and gathering all the courage of gryffindors and marched over to you with purpose and bouts of confidence blazing in his eyes.

“james, mate!” bell called over to james, his voice like water off of a dolphin’s back.

he was a bout to tell you off, maybe along the lines of how could you? or why did you miss my games? you always watch my games. or am i even your friend anymore? do like hanging with that cauliflower more than me? does he even play quidditch? can he even turn into a stag? is he even that funny. i bet i’m funnier.

“y/n!” he beckoned, jogging over to you in a hurry. you turned, books held tightly to your chest.

“james,”

once he was in front of you, breathing in deep. staring into your eyes and seeing your soft pillowy cheeks and soft smiles.

“how are you?” you breathed, shifting from one foot to the other.

he inhaled, how are you? after weeks of nothing—! he was about to tell you off real good but he forgot a crucial thing.

the slight tension and silence makes you nervous, so rather blabbing about nonsense to fill the silence, you opt to bite your lips and cheeks instead.

suddenly all thoughts seem to fly away from james. your nervous habit becoming more important to him rather than letting you how he feels. it seemed more interesting to him than anything he had ever seen before.

which was crazy, because this wasn’t the first time you did this! or is it because you haven’t been around lately that made his immunity to your distracting quirk lessened?

eventually the silence became way too unbearable, not to mention the staring from james getting too intense. you just had to get out of this really weird and quiet interaction.

“well, james, i have to go now.” you gave a polite and shaky smile, “see you ‘round.”

v. when you watch his games.

today was the last game of the season. everyone on the team was buzzing with nerves and excitement. john bell had made it his mission to let everyone know of what he learned about slytherin yesterday.

“ambrose greengrass is going to play seeker for the time being.”

sirius snorted out a laugh, “greengrass can barely get on his broom!”

“well talkalot was desperate for replacement so soon before the game.”

dawson rolled her eyes and smirked, “well, whoever they send out we’re still going to beat the crap of them!”

the team cheered in agreement.

sirius noticed the lack of quips from james, like he usually does before each games. he sighed, already knowing the root of it. if his mate’s wanly expression had anything to say about it.

going up to his broom at hand and grabbing james’ shoulder, shaking him rather roughly. as if to physically wake him up out of stupor.

“mate, this is your first finals as captain, what the hell are you doing moping like some grandma?”

james looked up and saw the entire team looking at him. breathing in deep. “you’re right, pads.” grabbing his broom and bellowing in his loudest voice, “let’s win this!”

as much as it pains james, he had to forgot about you for a moment and focus on the game. his teammates are counting on him. chanting in his mind that it wouldn’t matter if you were out there or not.

although a very tiny voice, had called out this lie.

it had already been 30 minutes in the game when you had finally arrived. a fragile thing held gently in your hands.

“john bell knocked out euane evermonde with a bludger!” you can hear the announcer scream, a disbelieving laughter echoing. “30 minutes into the game, it’s a blood bath out here folks!”

the crowds surrounding you in the stand were going wild with screams. the players zooming back and forth as they exchanged the quaffle. you looked up and saw james in the air, the wind tousling his already messy hair into knots. he was shouting orders to his team. eyes busy chasing players, all the while dodging bludgers too.

when he flew close enough to your area in the stands, you can see him subtly check out the crowd. your face warming against the cold at the thought of what you are about to do. his eyes quickly meeting yours and then physically stopping his slow glide in the air. as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

biting your cheek and slowly raising the large parchment, the written words charmed to glow and change every few seconds the words: i like you james potter! and go and win this!!! showing up interchangeably.

you watch him look at you dumbfounded until a dazzling grin erupted on his face once he read the words.

you see him spread his arms, and point at himself abashed, as if saying, me? you like me?

and you nodding exaggeratedly.

feeling the flurry of butterflies in your stomach watching him whoop and laugh twisting and looping on his broom. as if re-energized. you laugh too, his mirth too infectious. the others in the stand with you looks at the parchment in wonder and cheer along with you.

you can hear geoffrey shout profanities at james seeing him steady in the air not moving away form your sight, “not this again potter!”

it had taken you two weeks to finish this little project, the idea coming from a muggleborn friend that said they used to do posters when they watch games like these. that’s when you decided to do the same for james.

at first it was only supposed to be a simple parchment with words to cheer james on, for his first game as captain, against the hufflepuffs. but you decided to make it even more special and unforgettable.

granted, you weren’t all that creative in terms of crafts, so you enlisted a ravenclaw to help you put it all together. as much as you didn’t want to, you had to forgo watching the game so you can have some moment alone to get the poster started.

you were confident enough to know that the gryffindors will win and go straight to the finals. with hundreds of students coming to watch the game, you knew james wouldn’t notice your absence.

so the entire week you had committed your time into creating your first poster. trying desperately to hide your activities from james to surprise him. and when you had ran out of materials, you had gone to hogsmeade with charlie to guide you on what you should buy.

you knew james had caught on your weird behaviours. you were sure simple words from him and little pleas would get you to spill the beans but thankfully he had been distracted enough by something else that opened a way for you to leave.

now, here you were clutching the paper like a lifeline, the words you had written with so much care glowing through the fog. you had even drawn james on his broomstick along with his wild hair and glasses askew on his face. although charlie had helped draw it much nicer and life-like. each line moving and dancing across the paper to capture his attention.

with a new sense of motivation, james started to play the game the best he had ever played. zooming right above your area in the stand with a quaffle in his hand and a wink your way, he easily maneuvers over the other players and score.

with the slytherin keeper gone he had easily gathered up score after score.

and each time he did, he would stop a couple of feet in front of you and do a victory dance of some sort, eliciting a giggle and wide giddy smiles from you.

the crowd going crazier and crazier as james seemed like an unstoppable force in the field. eventually the brutal game ended with gryffindor as the winner by 530 points. breaking an all-time record.

gryffindors with some ravenclaws and hufflepuffs scatter to the field to celebrate the win. grabbing unto james, patting him on the shoulder, messing up his hair even more and cheering his name.

even with everyone around him, he managed to lock eyes with you again. quickly pushing other off him and running to you, a smile etched on his face.

you barely had anytime to prepare yourself as a sweaty, large, giddy man hurdled towards you. but james ever so gentle with you, grabbed your waist and lifted you up from the ground, twirling you around, looking at you with absolute glee. you can hear wolf whistles from the others but james barely acknowledges them.

he sets you down, hands still firmly on your side. the parchment now folded haphazardly, clutching it to your chest. wrinkling his nose in a low chuckle before looking down at the paper. “is this why you’ve yet to speak a word with me?”

you breathed, suddenly embarrassed. “i’ve been perfecting this for two weeks.” looking down on the paper leaning into him just a tad bit more, “i ran into some trouble with making the text stay on the parchment rather than fly away.” you muttered, cheeks aflame.

looking up at him through your lashes, having half a nerve to look bashful. “did you like it?”

“like it?” he scoffed, “i bloody loved it,” he grinned, forehead now leaning into yours.

you grin up at him, unaware of the still swirling questions he had for you. but for now holding each other like this, is enough answer for him.

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trivia-yandere · 8 months

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Hello! I was wondering If I could request? Yandere bts whoever you choose, where their darling has never cum before, experiencing it for the first time with them and overstimulation, getting dumb off of dick 🥰

yes we can! it wouldn't be us if we didn't add at least a little yandere to it

two sentence horror story

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin... @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @chimmy-licious

halloween masterlist

word count: 2.309

warning: dirty talk, humiliation kink, slight sadism, restraint, bound/gagged, pussy slapping, possessive/jealous seokjin, oral (f receiving), spitting, edging, yandere/dark themes, fingering, squirting,

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin.

Seokjin likes to think that he’s graced you with his presence. That you are lucky to have him - lucky to have someone so successful, handsome and rich. You were lucky to be his girl, someone who he spoiled with nice clothing and jewelry. He took you on expensively lavish vacations and dates. You ate only the finest food and drank the best wine the world has to offer. You didn’t even have to work, not while you were his girl and he had it - because that meant that you also had it.

But you did work, much to Seokjin’s dismay. You were a woman that didn’t need him to be dependent, no matter how many times he would place his credit card in your hands, you only ever used it on useless things such as gas for your car - the same car he wishes you’d get rid of all together. It wasn’t luxurious and it didn’t fit the look for someone like you - his girl.

Seokjin didn’t appreciate your lack of respect for him. Your refusal to quit your job, stating that you worked hard to get where you were at. So what? Thousands of girls would drop everything to be beside him like you were, and yet everything he did never appeared good enough for you. You didn’t need him like other women would’ve - and that is what upsets him. There was no control over you. You had your own money, car, home - what was he truly useful for if you didn’t need him for anything?

Seokjin had been lenient with you. Even as the months passed and the relationship grew, he had yet to bed you. He learned that you had little experience during one tipsy conversation and that’s all he needed to know to understand now. You couldn’t submit because there was never a reason to - no other man gave you what he could. You wouldn’t submit to a man that couldn’t even make you cum - how comical.

“J-Jin…”

Seokjin hums, head snapping to your direction. You were always so beautiful to him. You didn’t have to try hard to catch his attention. Your glow was as bright as the sun, radiating off of you heavenly.

Seokjin could say he was a bit of a sadist. It’s another reason why he isn’t quick to bed you - you couldn’t handle then what he had it store for you now. He marvels at your oiled, naked skin, arms wrapped tightly behind you while your legs are spread apart widely, ankles tied beneath the bed post.

“Remember how you told me you never came before?” Seokjin questions, learning against the bed frame to look down upon you. “That ex boyfriend of yours only cared about pleasuring himself, huh?”

Seokjin notes how you’re confused, wondering why he’s bringing this up now out of all times.

“I saw you talking to him. It must be awkward working with an ex.” Seokjin’s tone is dangerously calm as he speaks, eyes glaring holes into your face for a reaction. “Is that why you don’t want to quit?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “I have to talk to him. He’s my coworker.”

Wrong.

Seokjin slaps his hand against your bare pussy harshly. You jump at the impact, eyes widening. “J-Jin-”

Seokjin slaps you again, and again. Each slap is harder than the last. You don’t notice the moans coming between your lips and just how wet you were becoming. Shivers erupt through your skin and it feels taboo just feeling this way; getting pleasure deprived from pain.

“You’re soaked.” Jin chuckles, fingertips ghosting across your bulging clit. “I don’t believe you.”

You knit your brows in frustration - both sexual and irritable.

“You and him had dinner.”

The prints of Seokjin’s fingers place themself firmly against your clit. He rubs in slow, taunting circles.

“I-I…what?” You moan, hips buckling, arms squirming in the restraints. You’re unsure why you allowed him to have you in such a position. It was brought up randomly when you had come to his home and you’d admit that you were curious.

“I-I…what?” Seokjin mocks, rubbing along your clit more roughly. “You aren’t a dumb bitch, Y/N. You know what I’m speaking of.”

Seokjin never spoke to you like this, but it was hard being upset when he was pleasuring while doing so. You bit your lip to suppress a moan.

“A work dinner.” You pant, recollecting the only time you had seen the man outside working hours. “You followed me?”

Of course he had. Seokjin scoffs. You were his girl after all - someone he has graced his presence for. He allowed you into spaces other people could only dream of being in.

“Have you ever been eaten out?” The question catches you off guard and causes you to grow hot with embarrassment.

Seokjin hums upon your head shake and now he grows hungry, mouth salivating at the thought of tasting you.

“Though you do not deserve it,” Seokjin lowers himself between your legs, eyes set right on your wet clit. You squirm once more, humiliated by him being so close to you. “I’ll just have a little taste.”

“Jin- oh!” your words are caught in your throat when you feel him - his tongue wet and warm against your clit. It flickers back and forth at a steady pace.

As for Jin, his nose touches the top of your clit as he dives deeper to have a taste of you. Having complete control over you is an added bonus while getting the chance to finally taste you. His tongue laps between your folds as your thighs quiver.

You gasp when Jin leans back to spit, then suckle onto your clit once more. He looks up, eyes watching the way your head falls back as you continue to moan.

“I-I think I’m gonna-”

“No.” Jin pulls back, lifting himself up and away from your clit. You shivered, feeling your high come crumbling down to a disappointing halt. “What do you two talk about?”

You swallow thickly, eyes flickering open. You’re panting as you speak. “N-Nothing but work.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jin tilts his head. His fingers are dangerously close to your clit once more. “There has to be a reason why you keep going back to work.”

You want to scream that it’s because it’s your job and you need it, but your mouth is shut. Jin fingers enter you swiftly and now he’s pumping inside of you. “You’re so wet that I was able to slide right in.”

Your walls clench around his fingers selfishly, wanting more and more. The pleasure is one you have not felt in a while - and even then it wasn’t like Seokjin’s. Your juices are coating his bedsheets, but he doesn’t care. The sight of you is utterly filthy and worth it.

“You’re going back to see him.” Seokjin’s thumb rests upon your clit as he pumps, rubbing in circles.

Your eyes are clenched shut and your moaning increases. “Does it feel good, Y/N?” Jin teases - he knows it does.

“Y-Yes!” you sigh. “So good.”

Jin removes his fingers from inside of you and slaps your clit harshly. You scream, tears lining your eyes. Your high once again came down, disappointed at the lack of pleasure.

“Why should you deserve to feel good?” Jin questions, his tone dark. “It’s not like you deserve it.”

Your eyes blink a few times to look at Jin. He appears serious, waiting for you to respond to him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” you murmur to him, hands clenching in the restraints.

Seokjin scoffs. “I want you to tell me why I should let you cum?”

You swallow. “You were the one that wanted to make me cum.” you hiss. You were growing frustrated with the man. He was hell bent on showing you how pleasurable sex could be and not one-sided - but now all it appeared to be was him questioning you about an ex you cared little about.

“Aw, feisty.” Jin cackles.

“If this is what you meant then maybe I could go to my ex.”

Your ears are ringing seconds after you snap at Seokjin, your cheek stinging. The room is eerily silent.

“You…” Seokjin’s tone is deep. The deepest you’ve ever heard it become.

“Jin-”

Another slap across your cheek, and then another. You don’t manage to speak before Seokjin hovering above you onto the bed.

Seokjin pulls off his pants, underwear going right along with it. He has been lenient enough but your words angered him. To say such a thing to him when he’s allowed you to do what you wanted the entirety of the relationship was a slap to the face.

“I wanted our first time to be enjoyable.” Seokjin says. He spits at your clit once more - not because he needed to. No, you were wet enough, but because spitting on you was what he liked doing to show that you were his - he likes to say it’s a way to mark his territory.

“Seokjin.” you attempt, but you’re squirming upon feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“If you cum along the way, that’s great for you.” Jin murmurs, cock now at your hole. He’s entering you slowly.

You widen your eyes at his words. Where was he going with this?

Jin snaps his hips inside of you. You scream out at the sudden impact. He removes himself just to do it again - this time grinding so deep that you swear you could feel him in your stomach.

Jin’s left hand grips your thighs while his right clamps down onto your mouth and just beneath your nose. Your eyes bulge at the sensation of him fucking you. He had no mercy, snapping his hips so roughly that the bedframe slams against the wall behind you.

“And to think I was going to let you keep that little job.” Jin chuckles and shakes his head. There’s already a white ring around his cock. “You’re creaming, baby. You’ve never been fucked this good, huh?”

Your throat groans a response, unable to do a proper one. Your eyes are rolling now, stomach churning. Your walls are clenching around him, suching him in for more.

“But after what you’ve said,” Seokjin pries your mouth open, entering his fingers inside. Your tongue swirls around this, tasting your juices. “I’ll never allow you out of here.”

Your mind isn’t registering his words - after all, you assume this was just roleplay. Men were into weird stuff. Instead you were busy groaning beneath him, toes curling. There’s drool dripping out of your mouth and down Seokjin’s wrist, but he doesn’t go to remove himself inside of you.

“Look at you!” Jin laughs, snapping his hips harder. “Cock drunk. You don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“P-Please let m-me cum!” you gurgle out. You could feel the familiar high bubbling once more, this time even more intense then the last two,

“Why should I?” Jin removes his fingers from your mouth to cup your cheeks roughly. He was still pissed - and rightfully so. He was already upset that you were a whore enough to have dinner with your edx (colleague or not) and now you were begging him to have you cum?

“Please, Jin!” you feel hot tears pour from your eyes, so far gone that you don’t even realize that you’re crying from pure pleasure.

Jin’s nails dig into your cheeks so deep that he notices that they begin to draw a pinch of blood. He growls low, feeling his own high coming.

Jin spits on you once more before capturing your lips in his, allowing a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s about to cum. He removes himself from you, cumming right onto your twitching clit, admiring how his cum drips off of you.

“I’ll let you cum, whore.” Jin murmurs, allowing four fingers inside of you now. The stretch causes you to scream once more, but he doesn’t care. He’s pumping inside of you without a care.

You should be upset. You were being degraded and called out your name - you had spit running down your face. But you weren’t. You were far gone from your sanity, and the only thing you wanted now was to cum like he promised.

“You don’t understand me now, Y/N.” Jin murmurs to you, eyes fixed on your soaking pussy. “But you’re not leaving. In due time you'll understand.”

“I-I’m cumming…!” you bite your lips, eyebrows knitting.

Seokjin chuckles darkly, free hand going to rub your clit to bring you closer to your high. He feels you clench around his even tighter, head falling back against the headboard.

Your juices squirt out, soaking him in the chest. It’s long and accompanied by a low shout.

Your breathing slows as your body twitches. You were feeling exhausted.

“Can you take these off?” you murmur after a few minutes of trying to compose yourself.

Upon not hearing a response, your eyes blink open to find Seokjin.

“W-What-”

Your eyes are burning and now you’re screaming at the top of your legs. You pull at your arms to shield your eyes, but you are unable to. Your head thrashes back and forth in an attempt to get away.

“Now you can’t work if you can’t see.” Seokjin says in between your screams. “If you can’t see, then there’s no one else to look at.”

You’re crying, but even then it hurts. Your vision is blurred until it goes completely black.

“Now I can take care of you like I intended in the beginning.” Seokjin’s voice is now calm - peaceful. The one you recalled since becoming entangled with him. “Behave, or I’ll have to hurt you again. And I don’t want to do that, Y/N. I love you.”

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin.

He reminds you every day that if you misbehave, he'll take your hearing next.

#trivia-yandere #bts smut #btswritingcafe #bangtan smut #bangtanwriters net #bangtanwritershq #btswriterscollective #btswritersclub #yandere bts #yandere jin #yandere seokjin #seokjin x reader #two sentence horror story #two sentence stories #trivia-yandere halloween masterlist

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suuuupernovaaa · 10 months

Text

Taxi Cab

Hobie Brown x f!Reader

She would never hurt anyone. He would hurt anyone for her.

Before Hobie, nothing very eventful ever happened in my life. I grew up in a happy home, went to a good school, and decided to become an art teacher. I got good grades, I made life long friendships with people similar to me, and I kept my head down and minded my business.

Though it's been nearly half a year since he came rocketing into my life, I still can't put my finger what exactly drew Hobie to me. We don't have a lot in common. Where I am passive, Hobie is active and fierce. Where I am lenient, Hobie is harsh. Until Hobie, I had never listened to punk music, considered anarchy, or pierced a single thing on my body.

Well, I still haven't done the last one. Besides my ears. Needles are too much for me. Sometimes I get nervous that the spikes on Hobie's wardrobe are going to stick me.

Hobie is a force. He's dangerous, he's passionate, he's larger than life. Being near Hobie is addictive. He has a gravity around him that draws people in, but it tends to spit them out at much the same rate.

For some reason, I've been able to hang on. Sometimes it feels like clinging for dear life, until he reminds me how much he cares.

Even though he can do that in odd ways.

Like tonight.

Ever since I met Hobie, trouble seems to follow me around. I've been mugged twice, had my tires slashed, and even had to move because someone broke into my apartment and trashed the place.

My parents are becoming increasingly alarmed, only satisfied in the fact that Spider-Punk always seems to be nearby. They don't necessarily approve of Spider-Punk (I mean, most don't), but they do at least appreciate that he seems to be looking out for me.

Which is so weird! Hobie can't figure it out either, but he says Spider-Punk is a narcissistic asshole who only saves people to get attention for himself.

He might just be mad that I said I thought Spider-Punk seemed like he'd be cute, under the mask.

I was hoping my luck had turned around and I wouldn't need to run into Spider-Punk again for a while, but I guess that was just silly optimism. On my way to Hobie's with two large bags of groceries in hand, I'm stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk when a taxi cab crashes directly into a fire hydrant.

The fire hydrant lets loose a typhoon of water in my direction, and I scramble to the right to get out of the water, but it's too late. I'm soaked.

"Oi!" I hear the unmistakable sound of Hobie yelling. He was heading my direction after I told him the bags were getting heavy, and arrived just in time to witness the crash. He wrenches open the door of the car and pulls out the taxi driver. He seems unharmed, a little shaken up, with heavy bags under his eyes and a wobble in his step.

Drunk or high.

"You could've killed someone!" Hobie is shouting, looking over at me and then back at the driver. "I ought to kick your fucking arse." He pushes the man against the side of his cab as the water continues to spray. I drop the groceries, mostly ruined now, and approach Hobie.

The man is muttering something under his breath, and as I reach them, I can smell the liquor coming through his pores.

I grab Hobie's arm. "I'm okay. Come on."

"No, I saw it, he nearly killed you, Y/N. Just a few feet over, you'd be gone. Then I'd have to fuckin' kill him!" Hobie slams him against his car one more time, and I pull on his arm harder.

"But he didn't. The cops are on their way. Let's go. I need help carrying the groceries, and it's too cold for me to be all wet."

Hobie looks at me finally, really looks at me, and then with one more burning glance at the inebriated taxi driver, gruffly releases his collar and turns to me.

Effortlessly, he scoops me up into his arms, bridal-style, and I gasp. He strides with ease over to our drowned groceries, and bends down, picking them up in his hands.

"Jesus, have you been working out?" I ask.

His face is too tense for a smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch. Despite my protests, he carries me into his building and up three flights of stairs, only setting me down once we are safe inside the walls of his apartment.

Without me asking, he goes into his room and brings out a pair of leggings I've left here before, and one of his t-shirts. I change in the bathroom, drying my hair as best I can with a towel, before going back to the kitchen to see what can be salvaged of the groceries.

"I think I can still do something with this! The bread is gone but, homemade bread crumbs aren't like, necessary. They're just fancy." I turn to see Hobie leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, still scowling. "Uh, or I can go to the store, if the homemade bread crumbs were like, important."

I let out a yelp of surprise when Hobie pushes himself off the counter and strides towards me, grabbing me by the shoulders and bringing me to him for a rough, passionate kiss.

In moments, I meld into him, wrapping my arms around his waist as his fingers find their way into my hair, and his tongue enters my mouth.

This kiss feels different. Urgent, feverish, desperate. He holds me tightly, pressing me so close to him it feels like he wants us to be one person, like he would climb right into my skin.

I pull away for just a moment, gasping for breath. "Are you okay?" I say on an exhale.

Hobie stares down at me intensely, his hands still in my hair, his eyes wild and the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"I would do anything to keep you safe," he says flatly. "There's no limit to what I'd do."

I bring my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks, nodding. "I know, Hobie."

"I would have killed that man if you hadn't stopped me."

I know he's exaggerating to make a point, but a chill runs up my spine a the way he says it so calmly, with no hint of irony. I remember his chest heaving, the wild look in his eyes as he held that drunk man up against his own car.

He looked out for blood.

"I'm okay, Hobie. So are you."

"Move in with me. You hate that new place. Stay here."

We've only known each other six months. We're barely adults. I make no money as a new teacher and I honestly haven't figured out how Hobie seems to make so much money off the gigs he plays. It's too soon to move in together. It's not smart.

But I love him. And he loves me. We haven't said it yet, but I don't know that we need to. I can see it in his eyes, feel it while he holds me, taste it on his lips.

He loves me.

"Okay."

"Today. Like, we can get your stuff later, but don't sleep there anymore. Stay with me."

I nod and lean forward, pressing my forehead to his chest. His hands finally leave my hair, and wrap tightly around my shoulders. I listen to his heartbeat - rapid at first, but as we stand there, silently clinging to each other, it begins to slow down.

He's pressing soft kisses to the top of my head, humming quietly, and I've never felt more in love.

I've never felt more cared for, more loved in return, more safe.

Six months or sixty years. I don't think it matters.

#hobie brown #Hobie brown x reader #Hobie brown x you #Hobie brown fluff #Hobie brown fic

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weebsinstash · 9 months

Text

My yandere Invincible posts have been getting notes recently now that season 2 is starting and there's a specific idea I have in my head for platonic yandere dad Nolan x daughter Reader because of a scene from the first episode, the scene from Mark's past where (small spoiler I guess) Nolan visibly heavily contemplates killing Mark and Debbie (because Mark might not get his powers and, he doesnt want to fail his mission) but quickly stops himself and is clearly ashamed for what he almost did

I keep thinking of a specific scenario. Reader is his second-born daughter who is a couple years younger than Mark and you're his little princess and you're just, outside playing while your parents occasionally peek out at you through the glass door/window to the backyard and, you're like 5 or 6 when things just, suddenly change, it hits you like lightning. Things look differently, they smell different, the sun on your skin feels different, the toys in your hands feel lighter and weirder than before, and when you start to slowly squeeze them, they start to break, but, you're smart and fast enough to stop.

But it's not JUST your body. It's your MIND. Suddenly you're remembering all those cartoons you've ever watched, practically every memory you have, every experience, every fact.

Temporarily, ever so briefly, you start to float, and you easily figure out how to put yourself down.

You're so excited you can't even make a sound-- you've got your powers like Dad!-- and you go to tell your parents, and you see then talking inside. You don't want to interrupt and wait outside patiently, deciding you'll go in when they're done talking even ss you're bouncing in excitement. And, you see everything from Ducktape Man to Mom and Dad talking to that menacing movement your father made, where some animalistic instinct inside of you knew it was HOSTILE and, in just a few moments, you're putting it all together, like either some gullible kid who believes everything in cartoons, or, perhaps, someone who just became a lot, lot smarter: you start hypothesizing that Nolan must be evil and has some hidden ulterior motive. Why would Nolan be so mad at Mark not having powers to the point of violence, murder? Oh, because if Mark didn't have powers, he wouldn't be like dad, he'd be a human? Does dad not like humans? Does dad want to hurt humans? Is there any other reason Dad seems to almost NEED his offspring to be Viltrumites too?

Oh, is Dad a bad alien who wants his children to leave Earth and human culture behind for their roots? And if he doesn't succeed, he'll snap? Is it like in those cartoons where the evil father tries to bring his kid to the darkside and the hero has to fight and defeat them even if it hurts?

The whole theory and coming into your powers is surreal, it's inhuman, but it's the new you, the new Viltrumite you. You burst into tears as you become overwhelmed and stressed at the idea you might have to fight your evil dad, lying to your father, no, Nolan, that you were crying because you broke your toy on accident and he has to shush you as he promises you a new one but your chubby little kid arms aren't squeezing him as tight as they used to

You start keeping secrets. You start watching him all the time, the things he does, the things he says, and the more and more, you become convinced. He never stops treating you as his little angel, and you even notice, he's, for some reason, gentler with you than Mark and, as you grow older, you realize it's because you're a girl and for whatever reason he's falling into the very stereotypical role of, treating both you and Mark very well overall, but, also being more lenient with you, telling Mark he has to be a good brother and protect his baby sister, Nolan always trying to buy you little sweets, but, after you saw what you did, your behavior towards him immediately shifts. You try to act the same to avoid arousing suspicion but you aren't nearly as affectionate and, as you get older, you take advantage of using puberty and needing independence as an excuse to put emotional walls up and distance yourself from him, even as he constantly tries to engage and spend time with you

Your family is worried what's wrong with you when you start calling him Nolan instead of dad, you suddenly don't want to spend time with him, your mom, and even your brother. You start working the second you're legally old enough, but, despite how bright and inquisitive you were as a kid, your grades are. Average. As in, deliberately average. You can never let Nolan know what you are. As you age and hear more and more of his comments where you can tell he's insulting not just anyone in particular, but the entire human race, you steel yourself, because you know, you know this man cannot be your father anymore, and you may even have to kill him. But you're so overly cautious about him and anyone else not finding out that you're limited at training options. You can't just fly anywhere, you can't just practice martial arts against normal humans, but, you find ways to make it work. You work manual labor jobs your father scoffs at, you wait until night and/or you know he's off planet to practice flying in one single field where you can see for miles all around you and see any witnesses or planes coming

You are a daughter with every intention of either abandoning her family and leaving the planet, or killing her father. Once you realized that you were an alien, unlike Mark and unbeknownst to Nolan, you're more like your father than you realize. You become more apathetic to humanity, more nonchalant about where you are in life. Suddenly you don't have to worry about your grades or college or things like that because, well, what good will earth stuff do you in outer space? Maybe you'll pick up some more practical knowledge but, really, the only reason you don't leave the planet once you start getting older is literally just that, one you're still attached to Mark and Debbie, and two, you don't have a flight suit and know your clothes will burn up and. You wanna get out of here but you don't want to be naked in space!!

Like picture this. Mark has just gotten his powers and you're heartbroken because, over the last decade your father started spending significantly more focus on Mark instead of you, inviting him to things he doesn't even mention to you, finally shifting almost his exclusive attention to his son, and, now Mark is "just like dad", already starting to get full of himself because hes stronger and "better", which worries you because, you eventually deduce Nolan is some kind of invader who is having kids to be soldiers. Like imagine sitting at the dinner table and Mark is all "don't worry sis, I bet you're a late bloomer too :) youll get your powers soon" and Nolan pipes in like "yeah and then we can all go out flying together" and you just look him dead in the eyes and don't reply. You're constantly having to temper your anger and keep up your ruse because if you're too openly hostile, he'll figure it out, and you have literally not a single doubt in your mind that he'll kill you for his mission, which is funny because you've actually adapted a lot of the "don't care I'm an alien" mindset that he wanted Mark to have

Nolan has no idea why you clearly hate him, why you fake smiles, why you stopped spending time with him. He still remembers when you were a toddler and you were running around, skinning your knees all the time and picking yourself up with little sniffles like nothing happened because you just wanted to keep running and exploring and playing SO bad. You used to be so bright. He had such high hopes for you. Honestly he always thought you would potentially outmatch Mark and be his strongest child, but. Here you are, a straight C student, working manual labor jobs, completely average, and refusing to bond with him in any way. He can tell you're keeping some sort of secret from him, but whenever he goes to confront you about it, you're... surprisingly scared, but, not as scared as you should be, in the nuanced ways one would shrink away as a child being scolded by their parent. It's almost like... you're holding some sort of grudge against him

I couldn't decide which version I prefer in terms of Reader finally being exposed. Maybe you don't realize Mark is trailing you and he finds out and tells Nolan behind your back under the mistaken impression you recently got your powers and was training in secret to make it a surprise. Or there's some sort of attack or disaster or accident where you're shot by a robber or they attempt to stab you and it just, dents against your skin. Or even, you start disrespecting Debbie because you're frustrated about being an alien that can't die and she let this man into her bed without truly knowing who or what he was and you're resenting her for it and you make a really awful comment and get in an argument with her and in anger she moves to slap you and fractures her hand against your invulnerable face, or you have to catch her wrist so she doesn't hurt herself and Nolan can tell by your reflexes that you're not fully human

I also just like the idea of. You're 18 and you make it very extremely clear you're moving out and your family is like, REFUSING but they technically can't stop you (although the idea of Omniman going full yandere dad and physically locking you up so his baby girl doesn't leave the nest certainly IS a nice thought) and they notice, instead of packing your things, you're donating them, getting rid of them. The day of your move happens and you're standing there with only a backpack and you haven't told them Any details about where you're going or, just, ANYTHING, and Nolan is looking at you like a big sad hound dog "can't I at least drive you 🥺" and you're like " :) no that's OK, I've got my own ride" AND JUST FLYING AWAY. I just think it'd be extremely relatable and hilarious if you keep up the ruse for so many years and you finally blow your cover because you lose your temper or because you've been hurt emotionally. Nolan tries to ground you, "March upstairs right now young lady!" and you're just like "march?" As you start levitating away just to spite him and he's picking his jaw off the floor. Mark sees you acting out one day "You're just jealous because dad likes spending time with me over you and you don't have any powers" and youre so hurt at seeing your big brother who you've been wanting to protect all this time become a pawn of your father that you just start hovering in the air right then and there, "you can have dad. You can have everything. I'm not even staying on this planet anymore"

I dunno, I kinda like the idea of Reader being this kind of, you know, still kind and all that, but a really almost, inhuman figure in the sense that your specific alien genetics or mutation causes you to kind of snap onto Genius Mode and you become sort of this calculating detached figure who pretends to be human and is openly hateful to your entire family because, as you see it, you're on your own and don't need or want them, you're different than them, your mental abilities are different even from Nolan's, and, meanwhile, said superhero is desperate to find out why his little girl hates her Daddy so much. He's still, you know, got that Viltrum in him, but Debbie and Earth has drawn out more of his humanity and he does love you, he does want you in his life, and it HURTS for you to reject him

But then he finds out about your powers and. Suddenly you're just supposed to magically forget how he started pushing you away too as he wants to bond with you again, teach you, train you. He has no idea he's proving your years of theories right as, he is overjoyed at discovering you have powers, like, you very clearly detect the "oh thank GOD you're not ACTUALLY a lowly human" energy oozing off of him and you realize you were right all along, you really were never more than just an extension of this narcissistic man from his freak species of savages, that he came to Earth with ulterior motives and it's dangerous for you to continue to be around him

You can try to pull away from him all you want, but even if he never found out about your powers, Nolan won't ever let you slip through his fingers. He knows how heartless and cruel this galaxy can be, and, if you're really truly such a fragile little eggshell of a human, then, clearly you need your doting dad looking after you until you're a little old lady passing away of old age while he looks exactly the same as the day you were born. But. That's not what's going to happen because even if that scenario came to pass he would quickly see that you aren't aging. There's no way you can fake that.

I just imagine a Reader who hardens herself into a true soldier and starts planning for the day you kill your father. You lure him out one day into a certain area and you jump him with like Homura vs Walpurgisnacht levels of preparation, hurling all sorts of materials and chemicals and objects at him, testing what works yet nothing does, coming at him with all sorts of different attacks and techniques you've had to teach yourself and pick up on your own, but, he's older than you, FAR older, and much more experienced, and he finally has to do something he hates and punches you in the gut so hard it makes you collapse and start throwing up but, he's just. POSITIVELY EUPHORIC. you just tried to kill your own father at like 17, 18, 20 years old and he's standing here "I KNEW IT, I knew you were special! Did you plan all this? Wow! you even tried to pierce my heart! where did you even get explosives from, did you make these?" Like he's THRILLED at the absolute sheer brutality, like, you just tried to KILL HIM kill him and he's like "Awwww I'm so proud 🥰🥰🥰 my little baby girl is a true viltrumite" and now YOU'RE FUCKED because now he loves you more than ever and, he was lowkey becoming massively depressed at the idea of outliving you, losing you, having to see you die, and now he doesn't have to, so. Now he can have both of his kids for rhe next hundreds and thousands of years 🥰 he has so many things he wants to show and teach you, so, now that he's seen how truly capable you are, it's time to start your training, but also, making up for all that lost bonding time you spent pushing dear old dad away ❤️

#yandere invicible #yandere nolan grayson #yandere x reader #yandere stuff #sinprompts #also. ok. kind of this same concept but. anon was right. this same concept but like miguels daughter realizing hes an imposter #hes scary hot. hes like. kidnap you and force you to be the mother of hia children scary hot

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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Could you write an angsty hobie x reader where they both get into an argument? Everything is up to you!

ask and you shall receive anon :> i eat angst up for breakfast, lunch, snacks, dinner, and late night snack and dessert. i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

sometimes, you can't make it all better. — hobie brown x reader (angst)

summary: you loved hobie dearly, and you loved how despite how shitty the world was, he kept trying to make it a safer place for you two. but when you see him beat himself up over almost losing you... you can't recognize the boy you once loved in those frightened, hopeless eyes of his. pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader genre: angst. word count: 2,481 author's note: ok, i feel like i haven't been doing enough with my interpretation of hobie in more daring ideas an prompts, so i've wondered what he'd be like in an angsty situation. i hope y'all like it, and i'm sorry if the british pronunciations/slang are awful 😭😭😭

to hobie, it felt like everything was possible with you; like everything began and ended with you to him, that everything wouldn't be anything if he wasn't there for you, to save you, be spider man for you. he had never wanted anything more than to just be there for you, make the world a little better than how it was before you two were together.

he may appear cool and level-headed, a bit of a jokester as well, on the surface–but deep, deep down, in the recesses of his psyche, therein lies a dark void of fear, irrepressible, palpable fear. that fear being that one day, if he slips up, lets go at a crucial moment when he can't handle everything being thrown at him–when he closes his eyes for even a fraction of a second–you'd be gone.

hobie has seen and gone through a lot of unfortunate things in his life, and every time, he gets through it somehow. some may say he's incredibly tough and fortified for handling all that he's been through, all that he's seen, but what doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger–it makes you question just why it had to happen to you, both the bad... and the good. the good being you, the sole ray of light that shines in his life–the only reason he has to tread carefully and look after himself is you.

to say he was in love with you was an understatement, hobie was completely and utterly smitten, enamored with you. he loves you dearer than dearly, he loves you with a love that doesn't overbear, a love that isn't selfish–he loves you with a love that only he can give you, that nobody else can give quite like he can. he adores you for who you are, for what you can do, for your heart and mind–you were so perfect in every way because you were so flawed and real, and that was the beautiful reality of you that hobie fell headfirst for.

but he can't bear to face that other, pivotal reality that haunts him, that reality being that you were more fragile than him. you were a civilian–an ordinary person that lived an ordinary life; but ordinary people can only do so much to defend themselves from extraordinary threats. he can't stomach the fact that you might not be able to save yourself from a devastating threat that doesn't even want your life, but instead, his. he can't stand to think that you would really be serious about telling him that you'd really die for him.

and tonight... you held yourself to that.

you tried saving him, tried to save him–spider man, who saves others before himself–at the expense of your own life.

it happened in an instant, when he was wounded, vulnerable, and weak. he was going to throttle the villain, but now, it felt like merely throttling the villain who practically pummeled you to the ground would be way too lenient. it was like his heartbeat halted, his whole world stopped, time stopped when he watched you get body slammed by the villain; the villain was doing their job, being evil, hurting whoever they wanted to hurt, to hell if who they hurt is spider man or his partner--and hobie felt like he couldn't even do the most basic job of all that was entrusted to him: keeping you safe.

you couldn't remember a thing after you jumped at the villain, all you could feel now was a complete, total, stinging numbness. it's ironic, isn't it, that when you's supposed to feel nothing, all you can feel is a distraction disguised as nothing; that's what the numbness felt like as you lay there on the hospital bed, incapacitated and immobile. you could still speak, but very weakly, you couldn't raise your arm, nor your hand, nor a single finger on either of your hands. you were still. completely still.

next to you by the bed was a beaten, battered and bruised hobie. he took that villain out, a little more violently than he usually would have, but none of that mattered to him right now except for you and how you were doing. hobie was tormenting himself by looking at you, seeing you stare up at the bright lights above you in a daze, unsure of what happened, why you're here, where you even are... he can barely walk over to you without staggering, not because of his injuries, but out of sheer relief that you're alive.

he was sobbing, and smiling--he was smiling because against all odds, you toughed it out, you lived. "hey, love..." he murmured as he fell to his knees next to you by the bed, clutching your hand that was hooked up to an IV. you weakly glanced over to your side and peered at hobie, who was muttering and kneeling next to you. "hobie..." you whispered his name as you felt his grasp on your hand tighten. he sniffled back his sobs and wiped away the tears in his eyes. he was beyond relieved you were okay, but he felt like this couldn't go on anymore; neither of you could keep seeing each other, it was for your own good. he endangered you, and all because he failed to keep you safe, his mind was a mess right now.

hobie wasn't in the best place when he watched you get thrown into the ground, hearing a loud thud as you hit the pavement below you. you were so soft, so fragile, so easy for his enemies to squash and kill. you couldn't be with him, not anymore, not when your life would always be at stake when he's around you. he clutched your hand and cleared his throat as he shakily got on his knees, his smile now gone from his face as he avoided looking at your face directly.

"i... i have something to tell you." he said as his grip on your hand was loosening, with little strength in your body, you tried to hold on to him, not to let him go--but he let go first. he looked at you in the eyes, and you could see a shadow looming over his eyes as he attempted to conceal all the pain, all the remorse and guilt he was experiencing for as long as he needed to tell you this: "we can't be together anymore. we're done." he murmured, but in that murmur, hobie carried a stinging pain in his heart that merely worsened and ached harder than any wound he's ever received at the hands of his opponents and enemies; or even those of his own allies once.

you stared at him with widened eyes, your eyes were blank but shone with a twinkle, a twinkle that came about when you saw hobie come into your hospital room. now, that twinkle had shone and waned, it died as quickly as it came, and you found yourself in the dark--in an oblivion where light could never enter, where everything that is ever in it gets trapped, confined, bound t never escape. you were lonely, all over again. you were pushed to the side, all over again. you felt an overwhelming grief and pity for yourself, all over again.

"but, h-hobie, i..." you trailed off as you tried to get up, the pain in your recovering wounds prohibiting you from speaking. hobie looked back at you in shame, he couldn't bear to touch you, couldn't even bear to look at you. he loved you, even if you were now scarred and bruised, but he hated how you got all those horrible, horrible marks on you. they reminded him--each and every strap of gauze, every scar, ever bruise, every cut on you; it all reminded him of why you two could never be together. he had to gulp down the rising wails he wanted to let go of in that moment to keep you from worrying any more. he shook his head as he turned away from you. "no. we can't be together anymore." he said with a crack in his voice as he hurriedly headed off to the window and pulled it up, feeling the breeze against his face as he climbed up on the windowsill and pulled his mask down.

"hobie--!" you exclaimed as you tried kicking off the sheets from you to get up and follow you, but instead--in your haste--you accidentally fell off the bed, with hobie's head almost snapping as he sensed you were going to fall--but he still couldn't bear to be near you... what right did he have to be near you again, hold you again, ask you if you were okay when he caused all of this to happen to you?

'they'll be okay... they'll be better off, they'll be better off without me.' he reminded himself internally as he heard you get up on your feet, wobbling and clinging onto the bed frames to support you, feeling his heart break with every sound he heard coming from you trying your hardest to reach him. you rolled your IV with you as you meekly approached hobie. "hobie, please don't do this." you pleaded him as tears started welling up in your eyes. hobie didn't respond, he just sat there, perched up on the windowsill as you sobbed behind him, waiting for him to say something, to do something. "please... this isn't your fault." "don't be ridiculous." he said as he finally made this conversation a two-way one as he turned to face you slightly.

"i'm the reason you jumped at that wanker, wasn't i? if not for me, you wouldn't have... have been confined to that blasted bed, have that fucking thing get hooked up to you, get stitches, wrapped up in gauze, almost die..."

hobie choked at his words when he said that last word, 'die'. his greatest fears, the realities he had put off facing for so damn long were finally realized that moment when you jumped in to protect him, to let yourself be killed in his stead. hobie inhaled, sniffling all the while as he took off his mask and placed his hand over his eyes, trying to concentrate on the right thing to do, parting ways with you. your legs quaked as you walked over to him, but you wanted to be close to him, even when he was trying his hardest right now to distance himself from you.

"love, i did that because i... i love you--" "and that's exactly the problem. you love me. you love me, and because you love me, you got hurt, didn't you?"

he asked you in a sharp tone, one you had never heard him speak to you with before. he removed his hand that was covering his eyes and soon looked up at you. his eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes carried a different emotion in them. instead of fury and aggression, a frightened hopelessness was seen in those dark brown eyes of his. that fiery passion he had, that brilliant confidence of his had been extinguished; all that was left of him now was a darkness, a darkness that had to be satiated by finally distancing you, 'protecting' you.

hobie put his mask back on and turned back towards the city outside, the city that he would disappear in, hoping to never cross paths with you again--not after this, not after seeing how dedicated you were to him... he can't bear to break you even more, even if you were more than willing to shatter yourself for him. "so that's just it, huh?" you asked aloud as he leaned forward, about to bring his hand out to shoot a web and swing off, far away from you. but he stayed. he listened. he lived in that moment with you for a little bit, let you linger in his life for a few more moments before the inevitable happens. "you're just gonna... swing off, leave me here, forget we were ever together? is this... is this it? do you honestly think you can control what i do? i did that out of love for you, it didn't matter what would happen to me anymore, i promised you that i--" "i'm doing this to save you." he interrupted you as hobie stood his ground and refused to stay any longer.

this was it. this was the fall out. this was the beginning of the end, the entirety of the end between you two.

the tear streaks on your face were drying up, until new tears rolled down your cheeks as you stared at your now ex-boyfriend's back. where spider man ended and where hobie began, you could never find out--and you feared that you never knew the real hobie to begin with, the frightened hobart brown that you had never met before had finally crossed paths with you for the first and last time.

as hobie extended his arm out and shot a web at a signal tower nearby, you spoke weakly in a quieted voice. "you can't always be a hero, hobart. you can't... you can't always protect people like me, no matter how much you want to..." hobie exhaled deeply and slowly nodded at your statement. "i'm well aware." he said in a soft voice as he readied to hop off the windowsill and swing off into who knows where.

"...sometimes, you can't make it all better."

you uttered as you turned your back to him, not wishing to watch him leave you in this cold hospital room. and no matter how painful and searing this moment was for you, you couldn't hate him. even if you got hurt for his sake, got confined to the hospital for him even when he's cutting off all ties with you for what happened after... you can't hate him.

the minute you turned around, he was gone. the wind whistled as it blew a gust of wind into your already freezing hospital room. an orange leaf was left in hobie's stead, must've been carried by the wind and left here. you picked it up as you walked over to it and gazed at the intricate details of the leaf. "it's... nearly fall." you muttered to yourself as you stared off into the distance, trying not to wonder where he could've gone, and instead, think about how different it feels to see orange and yellow leafed trees down the block instead of green.

"change is scary... but i'll get through it." you uttered to yourself as you held the delicate, orange leaf in your hands; a few teardrops fell from your eyes involuntarily, with you being unable to wipe them in your daze. "i'll... i'll get through it... right?" you asked yourself in a croak as you smiled to yourself, with undertones of grief in that layered grin of yours.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn @conitagray

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown angst #spider punk #atsv #atsv angst #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse angst

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dante-mightdie · 5 months

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That makes sense, sorry I'm pretty impatient my bad :P, anyways heres a bit more of price and his pretty hoard ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

Ahhh lovely knight!gaz being so delicate with the princess, but picture this his raging internal conflict over the fact he took a vow of celibacy when he decided to serve the royal family-

but that's all he doing right? Just serving the royal family while he fucks into your sloppy cunt, tears streaming down your lovely face from how good it feels, gaz convinces himself he's doing this all for your sake and the vow doesn't really matter when he just serving the royal family-

Bandit! ghost is such a barbarian it's infuriating to the reader, from the crass and just awful way he speaks to the snide comment, but he almost makes up for with with that pretty thick cock between his legs biggest you take second to price of course, and Ghost takes you roughly when he finds out he can, when you'll be moaning and being for more please, like a whore, so unbecoming of the kingdoms princess ;P

More often then not the pretty princess will seek out gaz's company, after all he's 'civilized' unlike those barbarians ghost and price, soap's okay you guess, he just lacks the refined etiquette your used too.

I'm obsessed with the thought of being able to pet prices soft leathery wings, it feeling his tail wrap around your wrist when he wants to keep you near,

It's a must for all four of you 'pets' to huddle under price's wing in the winter as he's the only thing warm enough to keep you all alive in the winter unless he oh so benevolently decides to light a hearth for you all to cuddle by wrapped in silk and dark furs,

It's even nicer when on your 'walks' you can play and hop in the soft piles of snow with gaz chiding you get sick, and when you inevitably do, it's not so bad being curled under price's wing 24/7 untill he needs to go hunt fine slivers of meat to handfeed you, then you get bundled up thickly before placed in the center of gaz, soap, and Ghost's pile of warmth.

Soap and Ghost 100% hit it off more with each other than with gaz or princess, their backgrounds can more relate, and such they even made a pact to be stick togeather when the escape or price gets board of them, (spoiler alert: that's never happening:(( )

-much love Sins ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

sometimes price doesn't have the energy to play with his pets so he just watches you play with each other, puffing on a cigar and fisting his cock as he watches his boys absolutely ruin you

ghost has you propped up in his lap, your back to his chest as he stuffs your tight ass with his meaty cock. gaz laying between your spread legs and lapping at your dripping pussy whilst soap slides his cock down your throat

king of excess :) one orgasm is never enough. he wants you all sobbing, exhausted messes by the time your done. covered in cum, tears and sweat as you all snuggle up to him, desperate for your captors love and affection

p.s price's tail twitches when he cums :)

price doesn't miss the little alliance that forms between soap and ghost, doesn't miss the little glances they send each other or the little whispering conversations they have

decides that he doesn't like the way they keep plotting to escape him :( perhaps he's been too lenient with them

queue him spending weeks edging them, not letting them cum whenever they're fucking him or the rest of the hoard. breaks them down into a sobbing, pleading mess when their angry, red cocks are leaking precum everywhere :(

only lets them cum after making them beg on their knees. makies them tell him how grateful they are to get to stay with him, and how they're never gonna leave because no one can make them cum like price can

gets them to apologise for their little ploys with a joint blowjob, soap and simon knelt between john's thighs and lapping at his big cock. tongues flicking against each other's as they fight to lick up his precum

to humiliate them even more, he lets you and gaz watch. his pretty princess planted on gaz's lap as he slips his fingers up your skirts, dragging his fingers through your slick cunny :)

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euphorianz · 8 days

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Hello! I just recently followed you and read your story on Colin as an obsessed lover and was hooked immediately. I do like how you characterized his character. If you can, could you do one on Benedict? If you can’t, it’s ok. Thanks in advance!

❥Benedict Bridgerton as a obsessed partner

Pairing_ Benedict x reader

Possible triggers_ stalking, obsessive behavior,

A/n_ heyy, sorry for the long wait I’ve been dealing with some school issues as well as some home stuff. Out of all the concepts I've done this one has to be my fav. Anyway thanks so much for requesting! Feedback and requests are welcome.

-Benedict is completely delusional. This man sees you as a god. A muse. Something so perfect he thinks your feet shouldn’t touch the ground. He’s the worshipper type.. his obsession is in some ways worse than his brothers because of how bad shit crazy he can get

-like with any Bridgeton it’s impossible to get rid of him. You’re soulmates after all. Benedict is a huge fan of acts of service. He’ll help you get out of your carriage. Give you money. Paint you. He wants to see you react positively to his advances. If you don’t react positively or outright reject him he will be extremely upset and will lash out or attempt to guilt trip you.

-He's also very into teasing you. He just loves the way you react when he does so. Whether your reaction is positive or negative he loves it and will be quick to pick on you again. I don't see him doing pranks on you per say but he will sprinkle in some "tricks" in your love life whether you like it or not.

-Benedict would mostly definitely have a shrine of you and a concerning about of paintings in your likeness. He just can’t get enough of you and what’s to plaster your face everywhere he can. From an outsider's perspective it wouldn’t be hard to see his obsession (he’s horrible at concealing it). This means it’s way more likely that his family picks up on his traits, and deliberately reaches out to help you.

-the mostly likely place the two of you met would be at some art event. you are either a model or a painter but either one grabs his attention. He’s quick to speak with you and will never shy away from contact. He’ll do his best to charm you but if he fails he’ll be completely taken aback. He's used to getting what he wants so you fighting will only increase his obsession.

-He adores calling you his muse and will make a point to remind you what he thinks of you every moment possible. Like I stated before he's the worshiping type which does evolve into delirious and possessiveness. He can't have his muse wandering off, can he? There is no shaking this man off of you. He's just like Colin in the sense that he's practically a lost puppy that needs to feel your touch to be ok.

-Although he likes to view himself "above" using his family name to get what he wants he will. Whether that is forcing you out of your home or announcing to everyone that the two of you are engaged. You will be together. His wedding would be very similar to his brother's in the sense that it's very fast. He doesn't care much for formalities and will be content with the two of you standing in front of a priest with little to no people present.

-He desires a quote-on-quote "alternative" lifestyle where the two of you travel etc. But if you fail to feed into his desire by "behaving" he's not afraid to keep you in his room for long periods of time.

-out of all his siblings he's the only one you could possibly escape from (but it wont be very long). He wants to trust you and let you roam on your own to some extent. It may be a few days or a few years but he will find you if it's the last thing he'll do. This could most likely segway into him mentally breaking, meaning his obsession will evolve into violence. "A- all I've ever wanted to do is love you- I guess I've been too lenient with you."

-I dont really see you spending much time with your inlaws and especially your own flesh and blood. He much rather keeps you in his studio and paint you. "STAY STILL. Ah-hah.. you'll ruin your portrait darling."

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton x reader #yandere bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #yandere benedict briderton #yandere benedict x reader #dark benedict Bridgeton #dark au

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jhuzen · 1 year

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I hate that tumblr has turned me into a Dottore simp...

But now I can't stop thinking about Dottore with a boyfriend with ADHD. Would he make notes?? I also think it would be extra hilarious if the reader was his lab assistant, like-

Dottore: How the hell did you get this done so quickly??

Reader: I haven't eaten, drank or moved from my desk for the last 12 hours.

-Morax

to worry a physician [m.reader]

morax anon and i are so in sync in the simping game, it’s beautiful. this is why ily. this was hilarious to write LMAO. so here’s another quickie for you. also don’t imitate dottore’s methods, he’s a lil unhinged 😔

𖦹 slightly suggestive in the end (again do not imitate dottore’s methods), a brief use of dottore’s real name

“H-Hey now… let’s not… jump to certain actions that we might soon regret…”

The cold metal was difficult against your back, you felt like a slab of meat hurled on some form of metal chopping board. You tried to get up but your beloved was quick to push you back down.

You winced as the buckles tightened around your body.

“You know how much I despise hypocrites, [Name].”

Suffice to say, it was a miracle that you were the last man standing amongst the myriad of assistants that the infamous second harbinger have been given. He went through all of them like a child digging into sweets ferociously, sometimes even quite viciously tearing them all apart limb from limb.

And yet somehow, you were the odd one out. You somehow managed to even keep up with the asinine nonsense that Dottore prattles on and on, writing down notes that you can barely organize either because your master is already jumping on the next topic, that or simply because there are tendencies of you forgetting to do them.

But even that didn’t trip you up. Because by a shot of luck, the harbinger found himself curling into your presence and starting to appreciate your efforts to a certain degree. He’s merciless, but he’s grown lenient on days where you are completely restless. Dottore may be cruel but he’s not a hypocrite.

Perhaps it is why you’re proudly wearing the title as Dottore’s far more favored being than the rest — his dearest beloved, a promised love that Dottore could never bother to share with others. He was possessive, that’s for sure, and he will keep you away from anything and anyone, even from the many segments of himself. It was hilariously pathetic, it’s like seeing a cat get so terribly territorial — only that it’s the very same cat that can lobotomize you in a split second if you so much as screw up any of his work.

However, it was as if it was innately built in you to catch up with him. It’s why Dottore finds you so interesting and remotely entertaining — the fact that you can barely make an organized effort on certain things, but when it comes to him, you’re all ears and can fulfill just about any task he has given you. Truly, you are his pride and joy and there can be no one in this world that can even refute that in the slightest.

But even Dottore can be extreme in his expression of affection, often toeing the threshold between something wholesome and adorable to something completely insane.

And aren’t you just the klutz, making the poor doctor worry.

You knocked on the door before entering — Dottore already told you to come in regardless, considering that you’re the only he has given his permission to do so. But still, you were his assistant, and even as his boyfriend, you still held a high degree of respect to the man (lest you barge in on him on his bad day and end up becoming a lab rat).

“I got what you asked for.”

Tearing himself away from his work, the doctor turned to you, half of his brain still very much attuned to the poor monstrosity of a cadaver that he just recently hacked away and toyed with, “What did I ask for?”

“Uhh… well, financial expense report for your Balladeer project in Sumeru, some relevant literatures for your current… cadaver endeavors, the new assignments that you got from the Jester that you somehow managed to push on me, the letter from Sumeru’s grand sage that you kept on whining about, and some samples that you asked from some poor unfortunate soul out there.”

Dottore’s eyes narrowed as he retained all the errands you’ve listed. Only for him to turn to you, a look of complete skepticism plastered on his temporarily unmasked face, “…That’s everything that I asked you to do.”

You slowly nodded, “…Yes? Is… something wrong with that?”

“I have made precise calculations of the average arrival of every single thing that I asked from you. A good half of them would have taken you a few weeks at most.”

“…Yes, well aware of that.”

You suddenly felt your poor tie getting yanked down as you came face-to-face with your normally unhinged lover, “Are you slacking on me? Are you cutting corners? You know I have no tolerance for such things.”

“Wait, dear— my tie.”

“I believe that head of yours should be the focus of your concerns, dear.”

At this point, resistance was futile, so you merely gave in with a sigh, carefully placing the basket filled with every single thing that he asked for. Dottore gave a side glance at your submissions, almost taken aback by the mountainous height of the papers you’ve stacked.

Still, while he may be lenient on you on certain things, he knows and expects that you above all are aware of the fact that he highly prioritizes his work. He still has to keep you in line after all if you’re starting to slag on your duties as his assistant.

“This is suspiciously early. It’s only been four days since these assignments. What did you do?”

You laughed a little, “You know I would never jeopardize your work, Zandik. I’d rather be six-feet under than even consider that in the first place.” The way his red eyes glowered, was enough to make you feel small, “…I… swear it…”

“Talk.”

“I only had to cut out a few unnecessary things on my schedule so I can focus on my tasks… like… sleep or… meals. Just… a couple, I promise.”

That wasn’t true. It wasn’t a deliberate cutting out. It’s only that you’ve fixated on your work and that you were always itching to be on the move that you completely lost track of your time and ultimately screwed with your time frame in eating and sleeping. You barely ate and barely slept and your stack of work was the testament of that.

What. Dottore blinked slowly as his brain processed the information you so very generously dropped on him. You, in your efforts of focusing on your tasks… had managed to cut off the only very reason why you’re even alive in the first place. The most necessary part of your day, which now somehow was deemed as otherwise, was cut out of your schedule just to do his work.

Dottore has discreetly admired your dedication as his assistant, and quite frankly that was the reason why you’re still alive and still sleeps in the same bed as he does every single night. But something about the fact that you’ve neglected yourself just for his work was enough to irk the ruthless doctor.

The loosening grip on your tie tightened into a vice and before you knew it, your back was met with the cold hard surface of an empty operating table — it wasn’t even one of those that bend and are cushioned for comfort, it was where he often placed his experiments in.

“Wait, wh—” you quickly swallowed your complaint the moment you saw his eyes glinting dangerously down at you.

“I need to pry your brain open.”

You almost choked on air as you heard your lovers words, you immediately propped yourself up by your elbows, “What do you mean pry my brain open?!”

“I mean cracking that thick skull of yours to see whether or not something went wrong in your wiring,” Dottore’s movements were swift as he climbed up to the table, straddling your hips as he reached for the belt buckles attached at the side of the this cold metal slab.

“H-Hey now… let’s not… jump to certain actions that we might soon regret…”

And now here you are, at a complete stalemate with your beloved boyfriend, with you completely under his mercy. You were tied down and those leather straps were not at all helping you in making your grand escape. Not to mention, you can’t exactly just shove off your boyfriend.

“Not eating or sleeping for days just to complete your work would have been admirable had it not been for the fact that you need it.” Dottore sighed, reaching out a gloved hand to cup your face, squishing your cheeks together, “And here I thought you were slacking on your work… only to find something far worse.” The grip on your cheeks tightened.

You only shot him a pleading look, absolutely trying not to get your brain picked on. Your beloved had finally granted your reddening cheeks some mercy as he let go of it, “It’s not exactly something I can help, y’know? It just comes onto me naturally.”

“You not eating or even barely sleeping for the next four days is natural?” The harbinger was perplexed to say the least. “Would you like me to repeat that again so you can hear just how utterly asinine your words are?”

Huffing, you turned your cheek to the other direction, only to be faced by a dismembered head and immediately looked back at your lover, “I just wanted to make sure you have no hassle in the long run. And like I said, I don’t mind it.”

“I, however, mind the fact that if you keep this up, I might be looking for a potential replacement in just a few days once you kick the bucket.” He huffed back at you, “I hate inconveniences.” His scowl was deep and showed complete frustration towards you and your actions.

And for a quick second, your sleep and nutrient deprived mind had finally stopped to take in as you realized that this was Dottore’s odd way of showing concern. He met your gaze, and with the way your eyes tendered as the realization sank into you, he was far too late.

“Aww, pumpkin… you were worried—?”

“Perish the thought. Absolute lunacy. Whatever. Have it your way — I’ll indulge myself this time.”

“Indulge your… H-Hey! Where are you touching?!”

Dottore’s smile was wicked and devious as his hands traveled somewhere far south, copping a quick feel, “By my initial diagnosis, it seems as though you’ve been experiencing bouts of hyperactivity to the point of neglect at your food intake as well as the much needed rest. Why don’t I sort this out? As your personal physician, I suggest we do something about that before assigning your prescribed medications, no?”

Fret not, he made good on his promise — and fed you before tucking you in bed… but not after feeding him yourself.

#do not fuck while there’s a preserved dismembered head in the next operating table #just a psa #genshin impact x male reader #il dottore x male reader #dottore x male reader #jhuzen’s stupid one shots

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