#it's hard not to feel some of that sweet Despair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ackermonie · 5 months

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“listen. i’m telling you again. we’re NOT telling her i got you that lego set for winning that fight, am i clear?”

megumi nods with a roll of his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “i don’t think she’s gonna be as mad as you think she will be. this isnt the first time this happens, you know?”

“regardless, the lego set remains unmentioned,” satoru points at megumi with a serious index finger, to which megumi rolls his eyes again as he resumes setting the dining table. “the tone of her voice on the phone said she’s coming for blood. i don’t wanna be on her bad side.”

“oh? so you set me up instead?!” megumi lets go of the plates to cross his arms over his chest. “is the strongest really such a scaredy-cat, now?”

“i’m not scared!” satoru is offended, even though he’s about to piss his pants. “and I wasn’t the one that decided that beating up 8 fucking kids on one go was the brightest idea ever, was i?”

“but you rewarded me for it!”

“he did what?”

the two of them freeze in their place, eyes widening as they hold each other’s gazes, too scared to look at the source of the voice coming from the kitchen entrance.

they stay quiet for a solid amount of seconds, and you remain unmoving. gojo gestures for megumi to look at you first, to which megumi replies with a subtle shake of his head, a thin sheet of sweat breaking on his forehead.

“i asked a question.”

thunder is rumbling, and when gojo decides to, very slowly, shift his gaze to you, it’s a scene right out of a horror movie when lightening strikes and thunder rolls on cue. you’re standing at the entrance, drenched from head to toe, a cut or two fresh on your face. your uniform remains unscathed, save for the water dripping to make a little damp pool beneath your feet.

“you’re home early, sweets,” gojo tries to approach, but you pin him in place with a glare. his nervous grin gradually falls from his face. “how was the mission?”

he hears footsteps approaching quickly, and when tsumiki comes to a halt behind you, seeing the state you’re in, she begins to slowly retreat despite satoru’s look of despair at her.

“you rewarded him.” you echo megumi’s words. the 14 year old swallows hard, eyes sliding from you to the suddenly more interesting kitchen sink. “he almost gets expelled, and you reward him.”

“but he didn’t get expelled!” satoru chuckles cheerfully. “he apologized, and all! didn’t you, megumi?” he nudges the teenager’s shoulder pushing him a bit forwards so he can take some of the impact himself. he lowers himself a bit to mumble to him through his teeth. “who’s the scaredy -cat now, huh?”

“I-i—“

“i leave the house for a couple of days— not even a couple, this was a day and a half, and i have to wrap my mission up quickly because my son’s being turned into a delinquent with his dad’s support?”

it takes satoru a couple of seconds to register the words that just came out fo his partner's mouth. he immediately looks at the flustered teenager by his side, to find a light blush on his cheeks and neck.

something warm settles behind gojo's ribcage. it was never addressed, that they're practically family. the only d word megumi calls gojo is dick, but fuck, by the look on megumi's face, the way his skin is painted pink, he knows that the seemingly stoic kid feels the same.

satoru doesn't even think you realize the way you addressed them.

tsumiki peeks her head from behind you. there's a sweet smile growing on her sweet face that he catches. he tries not to smile, he really does, but something in his demeanor is shattering right before his eyes.

"satoru!" you raise your voice, a frustrated frown painting your features, but all satoru feels is the love spreading through his body, his fingertips buzzing with it and all. "this is not rewardable behavior!"

"don't be mad at him..." megumi mumbled, finally taking a step forward. your gaze shifts to him, but he's looking anywhere but you. "he only wanted to cheer me up. this is my fault."

your eyes can't help but soften. gojo watches the change of expression in awe.

"if it helps, they were bullies." satoru chimes in a much softer voice, matching the look on your face. he ruffles the boy's hair, who doesn't push his hand away for the first time in a while. "it's just that megumi here has his own way of doing good. peculiar," gojo pauses with a little laugh when the teenager finally pushes his hand away grumpily. "but he's still doing good."

you finally spot the scar on his cheekbone, one that's already been tended to by satoru it seems, but you still walk across and hold his cheeks in your hands to check it out. its really not that deep, but something still tugs at your heart.

and satoru is still watching the changes of your expression, taking note of every little one. he knows you all too well, you see, and he knows that you're about to start tearing up any second now.

"why don't you guys go fetch angry mom here a towel or two?" he addresses the children, grabbing your wrist to let go of megumi, who looks too guilty for his own good right now. he brings you closer to him instead. "I'm afraid she'll only be grumpier if she catches a cold."

megumi hesitates, but tsumiki calls for him, understanding the cue better than her younger brother.

once they were both out of sight, gojo chuckles in endearment when you shove your face in his chest, uncontrollable tears escaping past your heavy lids. he grabs your head with one hand while the other holds you to him, soaked and all.

"oh baby," he sighs. he doesn't think he's ever been happier than this moment right here. "you just called him my son."

you punch him right in the gut. he groans out in pain, but his hold never wavers on you. "he is your son."

"i think we both prefer the name long-term pain in the ass, but that will do." he raises your head to look at him, and when he sees that red nose and tears down your cheeks, he can't help but giggle some more. "god, you're literally the best thing to ever happen to me."

"shut up." your cheeks burn in his hands, and you're unable to look away. "I was so scared something had happened to him. i would've never forgiven myself."

"the fuck do you take me for?" satoru fakes offense, raising an eyebrow down at you. you roll your eyes at him, from which he takes even more offense, letting you go with a scoff of disbelief. he dramatically removes his sunglasses and crosses his fingers in front of him. "I'll hollow purple your ass so hard right now and you'll never live to tell the tale."

"sure, honey," you pat him on the chest with one hand and wipe away your tears with the other, beginning to turn away from him with a, now more subtle, eye-roll. "whatever you say."

he grabs you and pulls you flush to him again, this time capturing your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss that has your whole body letting loose right there in his arms. your arms wrap around his neck like a reflex, and he squeezes you into him, a dull ache beating in him to just merge your bodies into one,, to have you in his very bones, and maybe even then it wouldn't be quite enough.

"i would rather be torn in two than let something happen to any of you," he breaks away from the kiss to peck your nose. you look into his eyes, and it worries you just how true his statement is. "what else do I have to fight for?"

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more?

#ackermonie writes #megumi IS gojo's son i dont make the rules #i hate u gege #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo hurt/comfort #megumi fushiguro #gojo comfort #kid!megumi

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astrologylunadream · 5 months

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Everything Your Person Loves About You♡🧁🍇🖤 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hi it's Lunadream!! I will be showing you all the things that your person loves about you♡ hope you find your message💌🖤

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🍇🍨☕

Pile 1🧁

Pile 2🍇

Pile 3🍨

Pile 4☕

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 🍨☕🖤

Pile 1🧁

Sign energy: Love at first sight, Twin flame, Pride, End, Book, 8th house, South node, 5th house, Aquarius, Taurus, ☄❤🦢⚖

👤Your person's energy: Very romantic energy for this pile's person, omg this is a connection that has been going for a long time possibly beyond this lifetime. I'm seeing this as someone you have hit a roadblock with, and the relationship may have slowed down or come to a stop.🤚 Scorpio, Leo, Aquarius and Taurus placements, specifically could be Taurus over their 8th house or Aquarius over their 5th. Your person has a passionate and deep nature about them, they probably love the story of romeo and juliet as it is their idea of true romance. When they love, they love so deep and endlessly. Omg this person loves like they're in a romance book.📖💞 I think they are very physically attractive to my pile 1's, ohh and their voice is so addictive to you lol. They are very prideful in themselves and their talents, this may be someone who reads or writes online a lot. Some of my pile 1's fell in love at first sight with this person!!🥰 This could be a twin flame connection for most of you take what resonates, you may see them as your other half that compliments you perfectly.☯⚖ I feel like they just came into your life and just completed you in some way, soulmate vibes~💓

🖤What they love about you: Concert, Desert, Hug from behind, Despair, Ring, Mercury, Mars, Fire, 5th house, Gemini, 🧛‍♀️❌🍬🌃 Omggg my pile 1 this is getting good!!😍 First of all they love your mind and the way you think, the way you sort out your thoughts and the things you talk about. They love hearing you speak (especially on phone calls I'm hearing📞) and they feel like you have such a beautiful rhythm to your voice and the way you think.💭💕 Ahh your person LOVES the way you hug and hugging you too, I'm definitely seeing that they love the way you pull them in every way especially physically very interested in you😍🙊 They love how creative and sweet you are! Also this is so funny but I feel like they love the way you react when you're angry or sad like it is attractive to them??😳 The way you say no to things that don't serve you is so amazing to them, like they can just see the fire in your soul and it lights up! Your interests, hobbies and music you listen to all makes them more in love. Physically they really like your behind, that is what is came up😭😳 There's more but this is not that type of reading so we'll leave it there for my pile 1's😂😂 I think they really love seeing you have fun and enjoy things, they can't ignore the spark in your eyes when you love something.💓

💌Messages from your person: Who are you? I'm playing with fire, Your soul is mine, It's hard to explain, What have you done? It's meaningless, I can save you, Something is pulling us together. (Ahh a soul connection is real between you two💞) Extra cards: Closed, Choice, Actor, Drown, Lean

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the cupcake emoji~🧁 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 2🍇

Sign energy: Short term, Imagination, Fit, Ego, Reach out, Sun, Scorpio, Neptune, Leo, Moon, 🌅🧜‍♂️🎰🕺

👤Your person's energy: I'm getting very intense vibes from my pile 2's person, almost like they got something to prove. Leo, Scorpio, Pisces and Cancer placements, I'm getting Scorpio and Leo vibes the most. They are very captivating and their stare is so deep, they have a lot of confidence and self respect. They have quite an imagination and fantasize often, mostly of themselves and their life I'm hearing. I think they know you are attracted to them or tell themselves that, like "pile 2 is definitely into me😎" haha. They may try often to fit your ideals or their own, striving to be a living fantasy. You or them could be reaching out to the other but I feel like it's more likely your person. They are very attractive and alluring, I think they put a lot of effort into themselves. Omg pile 2's person loves showing off, and getting attention, probably have people obsessed with them secretly. They are reaching for the stars I'm hearing, very ambitious.☀️ The number 7 may be significant, I am seeing a lot of self energy with your person. They are heavily focused on how they appear to others, and to you. Illusive siren vibes, they draw you in deeply🖤

🖤What they love about you: January, Lay down, Solitude, Self love, Siren, Leo, Lilith, North node, 9th house, 7th house, 🎫🔍😗🤷‍♂️ Ahaha okay for my pile 2's your person loves your aura and who you are. They see you as a reflection of themselves in some way, they are in love with the way you treat yourself with self respect and confidence.👑💞 Also I think they are heavily into your attitude and outlook on things, honestly they are so attracted to your edgy side.🔪 Like your more intimidating self, they actually are really attracted to that side of you. Your person has a thing for your dark side🙊 Also you may spend time alone for yourself and they love that about you, that you make time for yourself and put yourself first when needed <3 Also how curious you are about deeper topics like occult and for some of you it's shadow work, your person loves how interested you are in those things.🖤 I do see that your person may love the idea of a relationship with you, having you as a potential romantic partner for them. Also they love how mysterious and beautiful you are, like your energy is so magnetic to them. They think you're very smart too, even if you don't think so. Of course take what resonates but I'm seeing your person loves fantasizing hot scenarios with you😳 Over all they just love how you radiate confidence and pride in life and they love how you take control of the things you want in life.♡✊🖤

💌Messages from your person: You might get scared, You made a mistake, You should have texted me, I won't let you be with anyone else, Please don't hide your pain, Tell me the truth, I won't forget this, It can't be (My pile 2's your person wants to know how you're feeling💓) Extra cards: Hands, Longterm, Wild, Grey, Disturbance (Some spicy energy from your person but I'll leave it up to interpretation for this reading🚫🙈🖤)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the grapes emoji~🍇 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 3🍨

Sign energy: Prank, Final, Drive, Prove, 6th house, 4th house, Water, Aquarius, Sun, Venus, 🗡🐏🌉😰

👤Your person's energy: Okay so we have some interesting energy for my pile 3's person!! First off they may have their sun in 6th house or Virgo, but I'm also getting Aquarius sun or venus. Cancer, Leo, Libra and Taurus placements aswell for you guys💓 Your person has a touch of soft femininity to them (no matter the gender) like they are just very caring and sweet at heart.🥺 I'm getting that this person gets very defensive if you play with their feelings or emotions, they dislike being tricked or mislead. Some of you know this person through online, or there is a connection to them with that in some way. You think of this person often or on a daily basis, some of my pile 3's overthink about this person!!💭 Lol I think one or both of you try so hard to act like there's nothing going on between you to like friend zoning or trying to remain professional, but like the relationship means so much to you both I'm hearing♡ You feel very familiar with this person, they are very protective over you too like family. I am getting that they are also very supportive of your love for them. They make you feel safe and in love, omg and I am hearing that they have a fierce side to them when it comes to protecting their loved ones like no one will want to mess with them because they will fight hard to keep you safe💗

🖤What they love about you: Desperation, Mall, Handsome, Model, Captive, 4th house, Pisces, Aries, 9th house, Uranus, 🗡😖😗💢 Ahh my pile 3's your person loves your soft side and the way you show your emotions. This is a strange message but I'm hearing they really love when you are desperate over something like them, like they are so into that😳 It's a weird kink of theirs. But anyways they love how passionate and vulnerable you are for the things you care about, your hopeless romantic nature. Your person thinks that is so attractive of you😭💞 They love if you blush over them too like "omg they're so cute/attractive/so magnetic" like they really love you like that~ <3 I think they love being stuck on you or the idea of like, not getting over you🥺😢 They fantasize about you on every level from physical to emotional, also they love when you get angry/aggressive🤬 Idk but they think you're so attractive when you're angry like whaaat??😂 But also... they love being able to protect you or keep you to themselves, hugging you and touching you to make you feel at home.💕 Aww pile 3 your person really loves just having you with them or knowing you are safe. They do fantasize about holding you I mean not taking their hands off you LOL they love how delicate and cuddly you are. Also you may have exotic model features that they find very appealing, your legs may be something your person loves about you😍 They really love the way you love them because it feels so soft and sweet to them🥺🍰💗 Also the way you dress is very lovable to them, like they wanna go shopping with you <3

💌Messages from your person: I want to, I'm touched, No one loves me like you do, I finally found you, Your laugh is contagious, What's yours is mine, Why can't you tell me? We would be perfect together (Omggg pile 3 your person loves you so much!!😭💞 They want to you to say you both are perfect for each other💞💕) Extra cards: Explosion, Competition, Honest, Crazy, Message

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sundae emoji~🍨 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 4☕

Sign energy: Difficult, Saturn, Only one, Compulsive, Inactivity, 1st house, 12th house, 4th house, Vertex, Mercury, 😥👩‍🎨🤙👉

👤Your person's energy: Okay so there is definitely a block between you and this person right now, it could be emotionally or physically but there is definitely something between you guys that feels confusing and hard to read one another.💭 Capricorn, Aquarius, Aries, Pisces, Cancer, Gemini and Virgo are possible placements for your person, could have Mercury or Saturn in 1st house. This person may not be able to comfort you right now, or perhaps trying to comfort you too much. They may think or talk like an older person even if they are younger, they think responsibly and may be very strict with themselves. This is a very hard time for both of you I'm hearing, and you are trying your best to stay strong.✊ There are definitely confirmations of reaching out spiritually with this person, through tarot and such as this may be the only way to truly call out to them right now. Fate is in the works for you two though, and eventually communication will become more stable and upfront. This person feels like home to you, and you feel connected to them on a higher level.🌠🖤 This is someone you are familiar with, they may keep coming back to you. Some of my pile 4's see this person as the one.💍 But I definitely think this person isn't communicating the best with you right now, But they are trying their best in this connection. This is someone who fantasizes often about being in touch with another's emotions and desires, truly connecting on a level beyond physical.🔗♡ Very dreamy and spiritual individual.

🖤What they love about you: August, Audience, Silence, Lost in translation, Number, Water, Neptune, Aries, Virgo, 10th house, 🧚‍♀️🛏💦😏 Okay my pile 4's I'll try not to go into to much detail but your person is being very naughty right now so we'll just have to keep it simple😬😰 They love your artistic sense of beauty, you have an aesthetic eye and they find that very attractive. They love how illusive and mysterious you are, and your emotional intuitive side. My pile 4's your person loves getting lost in you while thinking of you, dreaming of you is something they love to do. They may have more dark or intimate dreams of you, fulfilling all their fantasies.😅😳 They have a lot of subconscious thoughts they need to translate into their conscious mind, there are things they may not even know they love about you or weren't aware of. But also... your person loves the thought (just the thought😰) of taking you under their control or dominating you in some way most likely mentally. Your vulnerable and fragile side is strangely attractive to them. They would love if you were addicted to them, but they love being that way with you regardless. They may love how your subconscious mind works or seeing you unconscious.. You are like a fairy to your person, they want to catch you and keep you just because you're pretty to them lol.😂🖤 I feel like they're just waiting to say "are you lost?"🥺 so they can take you in and hold you tight.🤧♡♡ They don't mind waiting for you too.

💌Messages from your person: I shouldn't, I'm stuck with you, You can decide, Save me from myself, Believe me, I'm lost without you, You know what I'm doing, Would you kiss me back? (Aww pile 3🥺💞) Extra cards: Fishing, Practical, Heart, Lost in translation, Secret admirer

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the coffee emoji~☕ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Good morning. Chapter 8. 😈

(Okay I was a lil wrong. Not full smut, but some spice.)

CW for violence, threats, non-con groping. Reader has a “bad” time and Simon is a bastard. Stay safe while reading!

He doesn’t kill Brandon immediately. No, no that little sack of spare organs deserves a long, slow, thoughtful death. But he doesn’t need to be able to walk for that.

Besides, Simon has a little bunny to track down.

And when he picks up your trail, oh. Oh. You are in so much trouble.

Somehow, you managed to shimmy a window open just enough to squeeze through. Out into a goddamn blizzard. At the very least, he notices when he finds your tracks, you put some boots on.

Catching up to you is pitifully easy. Longer legs and more experience in extreme terrain like this - you’ve barely made it to the tree line before he snatches you up.

“No!” You shout. There’s something so fucking cute about it. The pitch, the indignance mixed with despair. His shoulder shake a bit as he hauls you over her shoulder. “No, Riley, put me down!”

“Name’s Simon, luv.”

“I don’t care!”

“You will.”

He carries you, kicking and squirming and shouting back towards the lodge. Only starts to lose patience when he loses his grip a bit and nearly drops you on a hard sheet of ice.

He growls, digs his fingers into your plush thigh. “If you don’t fucking behave, I will spank you raw right fucking here. With your face in the snow.”

You gasp. Pause. Then go limp, sniffling and crying as he carries you back inside. He dumps you gently in front of the fire on your stomach, pins you down with his boot in the center of your back when you instantly try to scramble away.

“Where did those good manners go, sunshine?” he teases.

“Fuck manners,” you cry, pressing your wet face into your arms.

“No, baby, see? Those good manners are why you’re still alive. So sweet, so nice.” He leans down, careful not too put too much pressure on your abdomen. “Too sweet and nice to die.”

You hitch with a quiet noise. “Why are you doing this? Another lesson?”

“Mm. Could make it another lesson, couldn’t I? But no, luv. This all just for you, because I want to.”

As if on cue, Brandon comes crawling into view whimpering and begging for you to help him. Simon, annoyed by the interruption, snaps at him to shut up.

“Speaking of what I want you to do…” He drops to his knees, straddling your ass. You jolt when you feel the unmistakable hardness pressed against it. Takes everything in him not to grind. “I want to peel this little prick’s skin of square by square.”

Both you and Brandon make frightened noises at that. Simon rolls his eyes and continues.

“I’d settle for letting him bleed out from the stomach or lighting him on fire if he apologizes though.”

“F-for what?” Brandon demands.

Simon buries his fingers in your snow-wet hair because if he doesn’t, he’s going to take this idiot apart piece by piece right in front of you. Seems like a bit much for a second date.

“To her, for being a fucking pervert.”

“I’m not the sick fuckin-“

“S-Simon, please,” you pipe up, voice quiet and wobbly. “D-don’t do this, don’t hurt him.”

He clicks his tongue. “Little late for that, eh?”

“Just… please. He’s suffered enough hasn’t he?”

He laughs. Can’t help it. You just don’t get it yet, do you?

“He touched you. He upset you.”

You swallow. “You’re upsetting me.”

“You’re mine.”

You suck in a breath and finally, finally seem to understand.

“Then…. Then just leave him be. F-for me?”

Simon sighs, but can’t help the fondness that flares in his chest. Such a smart, kind little thing.

“Tell you what, sunshine, I’ll make you a deal.”

He shuffles back a bit, captures both your little wrists with one hand. You don’t try to struggle, know better now. He could purr; such a fast learner too. He draws you up on your knees, leaning you back against his chest.

“If I win, he watches what I do to you and then dies nice and slow like he deserves,” he murmurs in your ear.

You tremble. “W-what are you gonna do to me?”

He grins wickedly, trailing cool blood-stained fingers beneath your shirt. “Nothin’ you’re not already gaggin’ for.”

You jerk a bit, that precious flame of defiance brightening. “I’m not-!”

“Then prove me wrong and take the bet.”

“W-wait what happens if I win?”

He snorts softly, nuzzles his mask into your cheek. Likes the way you shift uncomfortably.

“I’ll stop. Hell, you know what? I’ll turn myself in. Brandon gets to live and you go to therapy and I got to prison, yeah?”

You turn to him, eyes huge and mouth parted in shock. Hook, line, and fuckin’ sinker. Oh, sweet thing, you never stood a chance.

“Deal?” he asks.

You only hesitate for a beat, know that it’s off. Too good to be true.

“If you don’t take the deal, I’ll just continue with our regularly scheduled programming.”

“No!” you gasp. “I-I’ll take the deal. What… what’s the bet?”

“Well,” he purrs, tracing aimless patterns along your sensitive tummy. “Since you’re so sure that you’re not gaggin’ for my cock - you win if this pretty cunt isn’t drippin’ wet for me.”

And he sees it, the exact millisecond that you realize you’re going to lose this bet. You squeeze your eyes shut, a little sob escaping you.

Brandon makes a horrified noise on the other end of the carpet.

“You can’t be fucking serious?! You’re fucking-”

That’s quite enough of that. Simon can’t have you feeling ashamed of something that’s only natural.

“You say another fucking syllable and you’ll be eating your own eyeball.”

Your stomach hitches with disgust. He shushes and coos to you, “I know, I know. Gross nasty, hm? But I can’t have him speaking ill of you, sunshine.”

He tugs the mask up to the bridge of his nose, places a slow kiss against the corner of your jaw.

“Now, for our wager…”

You turn your face away as his hand trails down your abdomen, thumb sweeping over your navel. You shiver as he toys with the waistband of your pants, then finally slips his fingers inside, down….

“Oh, luv,” he moans.

You’re fucking soaked for him. Your panties alone are absolutely ruined. When he pulls them aside and strokes his fingertips through your slit, they come away gleaming. Your clit is swollen and hard, so sensitive that the gentlest brush makes you hiccup and twitch.

He stuffs the two fingers in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from bloody skin. Fucking divine. He could cum in his pants from that alone.

“Mm, shame that,” he rasps in your ear. “Guess I win.”

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #charmed slasher ghost #final girl reader

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yanderestarangel · 7 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | "𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄?"

TW: dark themes, toxic relationship, physical aggression, afab anatomy, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, yandere themes, smut, nsfw.

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ SHANG TSUNG : You two met when he went to collect a debt from one of your neighbors in the small village where you lived with your family, he would ask if your neighbor was there, since he didn't answer the door, you would talk distractedly taking care of some flowers that I didn't know for sure, oh my, the wizard was already madly in love with you, he would ask for some water and then ask your name and then kiss the back of your hand leaving with some men. From then on, his life would be a real hell. He would research everything about you and your family, he would be the type who would first try to win you over like a normal person, but soon he would see that you didn't seem very interested in her, soon leading him to a plan B. - He would start threatening the owner of renting your house immediately increasing the monthly payment, leaving you and your family in complete despair, however, he appeared as a "great savior" giving the house to your family again, with one caveat, you would have to go out to dinner with he. Shang Tsung was very seductive, he would pick you up at home, dressed in beautiful gold and red royal attire, loose hair and extremely expensive perfume, he would know how to convince you to stay with him, telling you how lucky you were that he had bought your house, in no time you would be in his hands and with sweet words and some wine, he would be between your legs at the end of the night, fucking you hard and slapping your face.

You two start dating immediately, and it becomes hell in your life, Shang wouldn't let you go home anymore, you would practically live with him in his castle, all his henchmen from exoterra weren't even allowed to breathe near you, much less let you go out without him around. He would be busy with business but he would leave you beautiful and locked up in another shared house between the two of you - don't take him the wrong way, but he wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you in a house full of likely exits to run away and never come back to him again. -

He is well controlled, Shang really knows that you won't leave him, because in addition to having developed emotional dependence on you on purpose, he could kill your beloved family at any moment - perhaps he even did this before, so you could only have him, but just maybe- But every jealous crisis he has you will be fucked by her until you can no longer walk, he will sink into you without any mercy for your poor pussy, talking while he puts his dick in you with all his strength that you are a dirty slut who wants to give that pussy to anyone, and that only he can have your body and heart, whether you want it or not.

You wouldn't, like never, if you even dared to mention that you wanted to end the relationship you would see a family member of yours killed, by your boyfriend while he smiled insanely and asked if he heard what you meant to say correctly. He would also never break up with you, for him you are the only one in his life and will always be and if you try to run away he will find you and make your life hell, first of all you wouldn't even leave the exoterra, he literally has contact with You wouldn't even be able to get a ride to go as far as possible from exo terra and if you did, it would be one of contacts to pick you back up. You would soon realize that it wasn't the right way and you would panic seeing Shang Tsung just ahead waving happily to the driver. You would try to scream and then cry but there was nothing else you could do in that situation, he would take you home and soon he would have him by your side and kissing your neck, of course, with your wrist held by a pair of handcuffs on your wrist. At the head of the bed, he would lay his head on you, hugging you while your tears flowed : "-My love, you will never leave here, you will die here, whether you want it or not."

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ BI HAN : Please never have a relationship with this man, seriously darling, Bi Han is the type of man that you can't even breathe someone else's air and he will have a jealous crisis taking you both home - this man's crises are always happen with the two of you out - he wouldn't be shy and say that you were wearing too short clothes to go out and that's why you were at home - not because he was jealous because you simply smiled at the waiter after he gave you a drink - and After arriving home, the two of you would have extremely violent sex on Bi Han's part, he would record fucking your pussy from behind while pulling your hair - regardless of whether your hair was short or not, he is 6'1 tall, meaning he would reach your head calm down - and right after cumming inside you, his cum warmed your entrance recording the cum dripping from your pussy. He would also be extremely controlling with things related to your work, forget leaving the house after dating him, you only go out with him or if you are accompanied by a man he trusts from the Lin Kuei - Mainly Sektor - if he knows you left alone he would have an outbreak when he got home - let's say maybe, but just, maybe, he put a tracker on you, with the help of Sektor, specifically on your cell phone or maybe on yourself, this man is sick - and this outbreak it would generate an outcry from him, and you would only hear it silently, crying quietly, since the last time you raised your voice to him you left the mark of his hand on your face for 3 days. He's the type to punish you physically, he thinks you'll learn better from pain. Things like hitting you if you dare to raise your voice to him have become normal in his life, he also faithfully believes that hitting you is not wrong and will never apologize for the opposite, he will pretend nothing happened and have breakfast with you like a happy couple. Unlike the others on the list, there is no way not to notice the red flags in the relationship, you went into this knowing how problematic Bi Han was and thought you could change him in some way, you were mortally mistaken. If you tried to escape from your house he would find you in hell, the entire Lin Kuei would come after you, and deaths would happen because your dear boyfriend knows that you couldn't bear to see civilians dying because of you. Soon the grand master would see you come out of a small house in the village that you were hiding with your hands up, there were people looking at you shocked by everything and others dead on the ground as you passed, obviously all the witnesses would be neutralized. Bi Han hugged you tightly, placing kisses on your head as he carried you in his arms. "-I told you my love, you will never run away from me, you are my soulmate, have you forgotten? If you try to do something like that again, I swear I will slowly kill every person you love in this life."

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHNNY CAGE: This man is a Labrador type, he is a cute man but when he wants to he can turn your life into hell. You met Johnny in one of his films, and he soon became very passionate and in a record amount of time you began to have a relationship, in the beginning it was always normal and respectful, but he has already shown some strange signs, like always asking what you smiled so much writing on your cell phone - which was ironic since he was always glued to his cell phone - which would generate a mini fight between the two of you with Johnny saying that he was afraid of losing you, that he couldn't live without you and that he would do anything To have you by his side, he's the type who will apologize for raising his voice in a fight but will try to justify why he did it. The man will go slowly, showing several red flags, such as expelling his friends from the house that was shared, saying that he had had enough of the noise and that he needed to rest from unlike your friends leaving a horrible atmosphere in the room. You looked at your boyfriend in disbelief as he opened the door and each of your friends came out awkwardly smiling in your direction, the argument between you would be heated with him calling you a slut in the process which would make the older man apologize soon after while you If you locked yourself in the bathroom, you would only make up when you left the room and saw Cage silently crying while looking at your photos. He really has problems with trust, he loves you and trusts you, but he can't say the same about his friends and the world in general, even with you being in his life for many years, he doesn't trust himself, you two would end up fucking with Johnny Cage beneath you talking about how he couldn't see his life without you, while you rode him and kissed him, the man's hips went in desperate rhythm as he saw the goddess that was you moaning on his dick, and oh my he could never lose you.

+ BONUS CHARACTER

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ KUAI LIANG : Kuai Liang is literally on the same level as Bi Han, seriously, maybe even worse. This man would lay eyes on you for the first time and soon become obsessed, in this context you would be a support soldier in the mission against Perseus, everything was supposed to be normal but you soon find yourself cornered by Kuai and his sick thoughts. The man wouldn't give you a choice, either you stay with him or you die, simple as that. He would first try to win you over by normal methods, like bringing flowers or inviting you to dinner and if you accepted, you would fall into his web of control. This relationship would be a prison, you couldn't leave this man's side and if you did it without authorization you would be punished, he would love to punish you with humiliation, making you suck his dick under the table while there is a very important meeting with the Lin Kuei or just you depriving you of wearing clothes at home, he would always, literally always, fuck you, the bastard knew how to break your mind, he knew how to have sex that made you cry while you trembled on his thick cock. During sex he would praise you saying how good you are for taking his dick so well in your pussy, you were already not feeling very well with everything that was happening, so a Stockholm syndrome bond was formed with the man, rightfully so. to you crying every time Kuai deprived you of contact. Well, I think that with all this there's no need to say how jealous he is, you're just his, it could have happened that a man who tried to buy you a drink turned up dead in some alley, he's not the type to hit you , but, he will do much worse things. You will never escape, forget that dear, he will put you in a house far away from everything and everyone with the security system high and to avoid the risk of an escape, so you just let the man take control of your life. Kuai Liang would arrive home and see you on the porch, sitting in a beautiful white flowy dress that showed off your cleavage all dressed up, you looked sadly at the forest landscape around you, life had already left your eyes, you were a soulless doll, Kuai's broken doll, he sat next to you, slowly placing you on his lap while running his hand through your soft hair, you were broken, Kuai Liang knew, but there was no going back.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2033

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yzzart · 5 months

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okok but what about a fic with coriolanus based off of the unreleased version of national anthem, i want it all by lana del rey??? like she has the same ambitions and drive as him (a little coocoo) and they kind of just manipulate each other, but like they do really love each other yk?? food for thought 😙

"𝐁𝐲𝐞, 𝐛𝐲𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲!"

pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x f!reader.

word count: 674!

summary: if you wanted one thing, Coriolanus would give it to you.

warnings: mention of manipulation, excerpts from "I want it all" by Lana Del Rey, Coriolanus needy and wrapped around reader's finger, reader sitting on Coriolanus' lap.

The word "frustration" was so mediocre in your tongue that, at times, it burned your with pure bitterness. — With such an immoral meaning, there is no meaning in your life.

And you didn't even have a drop of pleasure in mentioning it in secret, in front of and outside the harsh and venomous gazes of your classmates. — After all, you didn't want them to be able to associate your fascinating image with that word.

Even if, at times, that feeling of relief, tranquility in your life and especially in the financial sense, turned into a knot of frustration, disappointment with factors that didn't go your way. — Taken for days, completely, fragile and indiscreet. — You would never admit or mention it, not even with your dying breath.

However, there was one person among those neat and arrogant vipers who recognized your despair, observed your fragility with his deep and beautiful blue eyes; who paid attention to you, getting to know you. — Silently admiring your steps on clumsy days. — Watching how you manipulated those who had something that marked your interest.

You loved to seduce any look to achieve your greatest desires. — Mainly, the look so full of feelings, displeasures and sensitivities

Coriolanus understood your body language, and was surprised by it; in most times and situations, you didn't even need to say a word, not even release a sigh, because he already had in mind what could have happened. — And that he could use that to his advantage.

But the prodigal boy, so admired and recognized by the university and envied by the majority, had no capacity to involve and blackmail you; no, he couldn't. — And it was an ironic play, because Coriolanus would commit such an action with anyone. — Even if your situation, his life is at a moment of failure and, intensely, unpleasant.

Coriolanus, in his reason for wanting, wanting everything he wanted most in his life, or that could help him or even favor him, he would do anything. — To enjoy his power, to lift his mediocre life from misery and poverty, Coriolanus would do absolutely anything. — Just like you, even in different circumstances.

Like, maybe, he would do anything for you. — And maybe, you would do anything for him and for him. — However, the factors that could benefit you always come first.

"Do you think you'll kill for me one day?" — Your voice, lost, in pure sympathy and your hands passing through some white and curly locks that were stuck on his forehead; a sweet gesture for a slightly inappropriate moment.

Sitting between Coriolanus's thighs, you settled, beautifully, on his lap; as if it were his favorite seat. — The distress, which didn't bother your so much, from his rich-looking fabric pants touched your skin. — You were so relaxed, carefree.

And also wrapping the young boy Snow around your finger, with an invisible string before his eyes.

Coriolanus was stunned, his cheeks red and hot, swallowing hard and trying his best to remain conscious; he was funny so ridiculous. — The one worthy of the surname Snow, the one who had a promising future and drew confident and ambitious comedians, was nothing more than a trembling and needy soul.

He had the answer on the tip of his tongue, between his bright, reddish lips, but he hadn't committed to saying it. — Coriolanus felt his heart beating faster and faster, feeling like it would leave his chest at any moment and he wouldn't even have the ability to control it.

"Yes." — Coriolanus sighed, so breathless and marking his bluish irises and poisoned by attention on your lips and, soon, your eyes. — "Of course i will, my darling."

God, he wasn't lying; Coriolanus would never do such a merciless and deplorable thing against you. — Even in his last circumstances, in his worst second of life. — He felt so pathetic, sensitive but only you could make him feel that way.

Your lips curved into a gratifying smile, feeling satisfied and fortunate, and almost brushed against Coriolanus's. — You always got what you wanted and wanted most.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus #snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth

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tearsofastraeax · 3 months

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heyy hope u're doin okay! what abt simon having a huge nightmare and we comfort him?

tyyy <3

hi. hope you enjoy the big broody men getting comforted as much as I did ♡

You startled awake, barely aware enough of your surroundings to recognise the familiar silhouette perched on the edge of the bed, his back turned towards you. Desperately clawing at your memories, you tried to remember why in god’s name you woke up in the middle of the night, as the darkness seeping in from outside suggested.

"Si?" You carefully moved towards his large form, as you spoke.

He didn't react, or maybe he didn't even notice you were awake and talking to him. You knew he sometimes had nightmares, most of them thanks to the years and years in active service. Some because of older and more haunting things. But you had never been awake when it had happened, only able to pry the most basic information out of him the morning after, when you awoke to find the bed cold and empty, Simon long gone. It took him over a year to admit to you that he suffered from nightmares, so the fact that you were now conscious enough to be there for him, made you careful in your movements... as if he was a wild animal you didn’t want to startle.

You moved over the mattress, gently sitting next to him. Your hand slowly inched towards him, before you ran your fingers over his back. He didn't flinch away from you, but neither did he acknowledge your presence.

So, you sat there with him, gently running your hand along his back, and listening to the silence in the room; his breathing, the car alarm sounding outside, your neighbour's music softly playing through the thin walls and wrapping you in a soft haze.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Simon suddenly leaned his body towards you, laying down, his head resting on your lap. You couldn't help the gentle smile that tugged at your lips. Your hand that was slowly drawing circles into Simon's back now moved up toward his head. You gently ran your fingers through his hair and watched as his eyes closed. He looked so sweet then, his face not reflecting any of the hardships that usually cut creases into his skin.

It felt like hours passed, the two of you staying in the same position, his head on your lap. Slowly you felt yourself having a hard time keeping your own eyes open and your body upright. But then you suddenly felt it, gentle kisses pressed into the skin of your thighs, blissfully exposed beneath the shirt you slept in. You dared to glance down at Simon, whose lips were pulled into a sweet smile, but his eyes had a mischievous glint in them as he looked up at you.

You giggled as he sat up slowly, grabbing your waist and rolling you underneath him. He fully surrounded your body like this, the way he leaned over you, his hands on either side of your head to keep himself upright.

"I just need to feel you baby… know that you’re still here," he smiled softly at you, a battle between despair and hunger consuming his expression. And you couldn’t help but melt beneath his gaze, tightly wrapping your arms around him and holding on for dear life.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost Riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #Simon Riley fluff #✧･ﾟ⊹ astra writes 📖

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perlelune · 3 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | viii.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A wretched whimper flies from your mouth as Coriolanus’ hips buck into yours mercilessly. His balls squish into your ass with each of his deep, cruel thrusts. The bed rattles with his frenzied motions, the mattress squeaking beneath your bodies. To your utter despair, every time his cock grazes your sensitive spots, stars twinkle in your vision, your toes flexing and your mind blanking from maddening pleasure. It’s like he’s right at home in your cunt, your warm walls welcoming his thick girth with ease, your body keening in both agony and bliss.

Your head lolls against the soft pillows, your bound arms limp above you. You’re spread-eagled as he ruts into you, the thin, white nightgown bunched around your waist leaving you completely exposed to his ravenous gaze.

Your throat is raw from all the screaming and sobbing. Your body is sore and worn-out from Coriolanus’ rough handling. And your mind is numb with fear and pain, no thoughts wandering through it as you peer up at the ceiling.

His fingers travel to your tender bud, plucking at the sensitive place, drawing relentless patterns until you grow slick and hot, the room growing hazy around you. Your legs tense and tremble, liquid fire spreading through your body. Your eyes roll back, the air faltering in your lungs. The orgasm quakes through you, fast and hard, and your walls cling to Coriolanus’ cock in response. He purrs in delight. A wave of shame and horror sweeps through you.

Your own body will not stop betraying you. Coriolanus knows exactly which chords to strike to make you sing for him, the chill-inspiring symphony of your own voice warping in stolen bliss resonating in your ears.

You almost find yourself wishing he’d just use you and be done with it. Instead, he appears adamant to have you come around him as many times as possible.

If it could simply end…

But you’ve stopped hoping for that hours ago. Every plea spilling from your tongue is just an incentive for him to rain more hurt upon you. Each time you beg, the fingers around your throat squeeze more tightly. Every time you complain, his thrusts grow more animalistic.

It’s like he’s trying to fuck the fight out of you, push out every shred of willpower with his cock.

And perhaps he’s succeeded. Because as you lie beneath him, there is not an ounce of hope remaining inside you.

It’s not like Coriolanus will let you simply walk away after this, after he exerted so much effort to mark every inch of your flesh, after he ruined you for every other man, including your own fiancé.

His hips stutter as his pace slows, his cock dragging out of you sluggishly. The hand around your neck slackens, traveling to your chest to cup your breast.

His head falls into the crook of your neck as he nears his peak. You’ve learnt to recognize the signs now. His flushed cheeks. His hollow breaths. The way his thick lashes flutter right before he comes undone.

He thrusts inside you deeply one last time. Your eyes widen, your back arching as tingles dance through your core.

You and Coriolanus come apart together.

A throaty moan climbs up his throat. He spills inside you, like he’s done all night long. The sticky excess trickles down your thigh.

When he’s done, a heavy breath flows from his lips and tickles your neck. Still nestled in your wet heat, he trails soft kisses alongside your throat. You shudder. For some time, the blonde stays like this, seeming to bask in the feeling of your core fluttering around him, your skin flush against his, your soft breaths mingling with his. Eventually, he rises.

You lie unmoving on the sheets, feeling dead inside. You blink. There’s a lot more light in the room now, you realize.

The morning light illuminates his naked form, dancing over his bare muscles. His blonde locks glow like spun gold in the sunlight. Your stomach lurches.

How can someone this beautiful have such a hollow heart?

The muscles of his back ripple as he stretches his neck. He strolls to the closet and pulls out a crimson silk robe that he tosses on himself.

He circles back to the bed.

You tense when he bends over you, expecting the torment to start anew. Trembling, you close your eyes.

He unleashes a heavy sigh, the click of the handcuffs being unlocked reaching you.

“It’s alright, princess,” he says. You gasp, opening your eyes. He seizes your untied wrists, his thumbs sweeping over the swollen dents on your flesh. You flinch at his touch. His forehead creases. “I’m sorry it came to this. If only you hadn’t been so difficult.”

He leans to drop a tender kiss on your cheek. He strokes the crown of your head. Your hair is a matted mess. You must look a fright.

“I’ll have a bath drawn for you. It’ll make you feel better,” he chimes, your heart bouncing when he suddenly gets to his feet. He ties the silk belt of the robe to cover his nakedness and strides out of the room.

You note that he doesn’t lock it. Should you make a run for it, part of you faintly wonders.

Perhaps, you could try to rush down the stairs and reach the front door. Then what? Too many people stand between you and freedom. Even Tigris, who betrayed you. She’d send you right back to her cousin. Back for more punishment you doubt you’ll be able to withstand.

You bring your knees to your chest and huddle against the headboard.

William crosses your mind. What must he think? You sent him away, you avoided him. He must be so confused. Maybe he even hates you now. And your parents…They have to be wondering where you are by now. The thought of causing them any stress or worry makes your chest ache. They don’t deserve that, especially after what they’ve been through these last few months.

The door opens and several maids carrying pots enter the room. They empty steaming water into the clawfoot tub near the wall. They then scatter rose petals and a few drops of essential oils in the water. You observe them absently. Even from where you sit, the head-spinning smell of flowers and oils reaches you.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you announce to the maid.

She tosses you a skeptical look. “Master Coriolanus said-”

“Would you rather I soil myself like a child?” you snap, your tone more strident than you intended. Wide-eyed, you burst out an exhale. You don’t remember ever sounding this angry. But the emotion had been building for a while inside you. All the hurt, the ire is making your overwrought edges crack at the seams. And now, you’re overflowing.

You doubt you’ll ever be the same. Whoever you were before has forever been altered.

The maid stiffens. “No, miss.”

Your brows twitch when you climb off the bed, pain thrumming through your body.

The sticky sensation between your legs makes your insides clutch in horror.

You stagger through the bedroom, knees threatening to buckle with every shaky step.

The maid trails after you as you go outside. Stepping outside the room feels forbidden. You dread to find him hiding in a corner, ready to chastise you for wandering without his permission.

Even in the toilet, you hardly get any privacy, the maid lingering by the door the entire time. You feel self-conscious as you empty your bladder, the dripping of water awkwardly filling the silence. As soon as you get out, she leads you right back to the room.

Your heart jumps.

Coriolanus is back. He’s casually sitting on the bed, one knee bent, the silk robe barely covering his nakedness. The maid flushes hotly, a string of apology pouring from her mouth before she takes her leave. The door slams shut behind you and you tremble.

He approaches you, his strides smooth and his eyes on you sharp. He gauges your shivering form. Your lips tighten as you stand still, so dizzy with fear you feel as if you might pass out any minute. He tugs on the string of your nightgown. The sheer fabric loosens around your chest. He pulls down the sleeves. The material pools at your feet, leaving you completely exposed. Goosebumps erupt on your flesh, from the cool air or the intensity of his cobalt stare; you can’t say.

He hoists you in his arms. You don’t resist, falling limp in his embrace. He gingerly places you in the bathtub. Ribbons of steam float around you as you sink into the warm water.

The potent smell of the oils has your mind swirling.

He sheds his robe. Your breath is caged inside your lungs, fluttering like a bird struggling to get free, while you gape at him.

He climbs inside the tub. You freeze, stiff as a board when he settles behind you. His large body encases yours. His chest grazes your back. He pulls you against him and despite the warmth surrounding you, a chill travels through you.

His breath flows over your scalp.

“You’re not speaking to me.”

You let out a wry laugh. “What is there to say, Coriolanus?”

“No more Coryo?” His light, teasing inflection causes your hackles to rise. You recoil when his knuckles skim over your cheek.

“I know I said some bad things last night. I didn’t mean them, I was just so angry.” He pauses, placing his thumbs at the base of your neck. Sincerity vibrates in his tone as he continues. “The night of the party. I…I may have done some things, but it was because you confessed how you felt about me all these years. I guess you felt safe enough around me to admit it.”

Doubts creep inside you. That night is a blur, most of it an all too vivid nightmare you could only retrieve distorted glimpses of. Still, you remember doing shots and laughing with Coriolanus and his friends. Liquor made your tongue looser that night. And you may have shared certain secrets with him you wouldn’t have otherwise.

Perhaps there was even talk of a childhood crush many years ago.

Heat sneaks inside your cheeks.

“You’re remembering it now, aren’t you?” he hums, stroking your hair.

“Maybe…I don’t know…”

He chuckles softly. “You are.”

His damp locks brush against your cheek when he rests his chin on your shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist below the water.

“Then we got into that room.” All the hairs on your body stand on end. His voice lowers, whisper-soft. “I wasn’t planning to do anything at first but you looked so tempting and I couldn’t resist. I know it’s not right but I couldn’t stop myself, princess. I realized…I felt something for you too. Something I couldn’t fight or ignore.”

Your lip quakes. Confusion twirls in your mind with his words, a weakness you thought buried long ago unfurling within you. A younger you would have died if Coriolanus said such things before. You remember when you were little, hanging to every word spilling from his tongue, flustered every time his eyes would find yours in school.

Frowning, you’re yanked back to reality by the press of his pillowy lips on your neck.

Right. The picture of the beautiful boy with gilded locks and bright blue eyes slowly chars in your mind, curling and twisting until it’s a pile of smoking ashes.

Coriolanus isn’t a little boy anymore. And you’re not a little girl.

It’s time to grow up.

Your mouth tightens. “You hurt me.”

“Well, you hurt me too,” he instantly replies.

Water and petals ripple around you when you rapidly whirl in the tub.

“What?”

His fingers seize your chin, his heated gaze enthralling yours.

“The things you said about Sejanus. That was cruel.”

"I d-didn’t-” you stammer.

Coriolanus doesn’t let you finish, squeezing your jaw as you wince.

“He really was my friend. The only real one I ever had.” His eyes flicker, his voice trembling ever-so-slightly. “Perhaps not at first, but in the end…If you don’t believe me, believe this at least, princess. I wouldn’t be who I am without your brother. I owe him for that.” His thumb traces your shuddering mouth. “No one but me can understand the depth of your loss, princess. Not even William. I’ve seen how he is with you. He doesn’t see you. He doesn’t understand you, not in the way I do.”

He cups your cheeks, looming over you. “You’ve put on a happy front for him, haven’t you? Even if grief’s been eating you up inside. Every second of every day…right?”

You blink furiously, chest igniting as he speaks. Confused thoughts collide into each other in your head. His words ache, but not because of all the awful things he did…but because they ring somewhat true. You have lied to William. You have smiled, laughed and shoved away your pain in order to not push him away. He was your sunshine and you’ve been afraid your dark clouds would dim his glow. You’ve pretended, with him, and with everyone else.

Coriolanus is the first person you haven’t needed to wear a mask with, your scars and wounds always in full display around him. You could talk to him for hours, sharing stories and anecdotes about your brother without fear of judgment. You could confess how much it still hurt, how you weren’t sure you’d ever manage to stitch back the torn pieces of your heart, that it felt like a piece of you shriveled and died with him.

Your own parents wouldn’t hear any of it, too cloistered in denial.

“Coryo…”

When you try to turn away from him, he lifts your head so you’re forced to drown in a sea of dizzying blue.

“You’d never have to pretend with me,” he promises. You unleash a shaky exhale. You hate that he sounds sincere. Tears rush behind your eyes, hanging precariously beneath your lashes. Coriolanus plucks at them, gentle and meticulous in collecting each one that spills.

His deep voice comes out calm as he says matter-of-factly, “I think, when the time is right and you’ve gathered yourself, we should tell your parents.”

You gasp. “Tell my parents what?”

He smirks.

“About our engagement, of course.”

The blood drains from your body, all of it seeming to plummet to your feet.

“Are you crazy?” you whisper, shock snagging the air from your lungs.

His lips expand to a wolfish grin as he cradles your face.

“Come on, princess. Be reasonable.” His gaze travels along your naked frame. You tremble. “After all, what man will want you now?” He snickers. “Even your beloved William. Do you truly think he’ll want you back when I tell him all the filthy things I’ve done to you, and how you clenched around me every time, desperate for more?” Dread grips your chest, your face set ablaze by his arguments.

He tilts his head, his expression smug.

“I could have any girl I want, but I’ve chosen you. So really…I’m the one doing you a favor.”

Coriolanus studies you for a while before adding, “Besides, half the Capitol already knows about us.”

Shock trickles inside you. “I thought you said…”

He shrugs, smiling. “I know what I said but Clemensia…she could never keep her big mouth shut.” Your chin lowers. He bends over your ear to mumble, “How do you think that would look, princess? Parading around with another man when everyone knows you’ve been in my bed.” Your heart misses a beat. “Appearances are everything in the Capitol. A single word in the right ear can make or break you. You’d disgrace William, and your parents.” Coriolanus gives a long sigh, his finger outlining your shaking jaw. “Is this really what you want? For them to suffer even more after Sejanus?”

“No…” you quaver, heavy breaths bursting from your throat.

He plants a soft kiss in the crook of your neck.

“Exactly. So let me take care of you. Let me protect you. Let me cherish you. Just give yourself to me, princess, and I promise you everything will be easier.”

Your mouth opens and shuts, ache bleeding from your chest. You find it hard to argue with him now, each of his honeyed words chipping at your resolve and confidence.

Perhaps you were mistaken all along. Perhaps you are right where you need to be, away from the people you could hurt, and right besides the one person who gets you the most. And as much as it tears you apart to admit, that person might be Coriolanus.

You’re not sure of anything anymore.

He pulls you in for a kiss, sluggish at first, then deep and hungry. As he explores your mouth, feverish tongue sweeping over yours, you don’t fight back. He hums, licking his swollen lips, as he parts from you.

“I have business in the city so come down for breakfast with Tigris and Grandma’am when you’re ready,” he chimes.

Water splashes when he heaves out of the tub. Droplets drip onto the carpet as he makes his way to the bed to grab his silk robe.

Once dressed, he returns to you and fondles the back of your head, crouching near the tub.

“I’m not closing the door because I want to give you a chance to prove to me what a sweet, obedient girl you can be, just like you’ve been this entire morning. Don’t disappoint me. I don’t want to have to use the handcuffs again.”

He drops a fleeting peck atop your head before rising.

“I know we can move past this, princess,” he says cheerfully as he leaves.

For a span of time that stretches like an eternity, you do not move.

You stare at a random spot on the wall in front of you vacantly. The water turns cold around you. Your skin prunes.

The bathwater is freezing by the time you finally exit the tub.

Numbly, you get dressed and drag your feet downstairs.

You find Tigris in her chair by the window.

As soon as she sees you, a panicked expression overtakes her features. She rushes to you and wraps you in a tight hug.

Dumbfounded, you blink at her when she releases you.

Her amber orbs glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry. For everything,” she says, worry swimming in her eyes as she takes you in.

You shake your head. “What are you talking about, Tigris?”

A quaking breath leaves her as her hand flies to cover her mouth. She wipes a wayward tear and gathers herself. Peering right at you, she reveals, “Last night, I heard…” She blanches, swallowing hard. “I-I’m not sure what I heard. But I know it wasn’t good.”

Your jaw hangs slack. You wonder what thoughts ran through her mind and how bad it must have sounded to make her change her mind. Guilt bleeds in her tone. “I really really had hope for Coriolanus.” She squeezes your hands as her voice breaks. “I thought that’s what you were for him. His hope.”

No response flows from your lips. How ironic. It’s what you thought Coriolanus was to you. A shred of hope you sorely needed after the loss of your brother.

If you weren’t so numb, you might burst out in laughter.

Tigris grabs your hand and ushers you to the front door of the penthouse. You don’t react as she fumbles with the keys and opens it.

The two of you take the elevator down to the lobby.

When the elevator opens, she races to the exit door and you follow quietly behind her.

She pushes the door open.

A cool gust of wind sneaks inside the lobby from outside.

Shivers bloom on your skin.

“I called a car for you. It’ll take you home straight away.”

You look ahead. There is indeed a car parked out front. Tigris tosses concerned glances inside the building.

“You need to be quick before the staff notices I opened the door for you.” She gives you a little shove when she notices you’re not moving. “What are you waiting for?” she whispers urgently.

“I…I don’t know.” You peer down at your wrists. The marks left by the handcuffs are still embedded into your flesh. “I don’t know…” you repeat, stunned to realize how disturbingly true your words ring.

You look at the car again. Your ticket to freedom. It could take you back home. You could be ensconced in the familiar warmth of your own sheets in less than an hour.

There’s just one infinitesimal issue…

You genuinely aren’t sure you even should, or want to go back home.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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cherryrainn · 3 months

Note

HI! CAN I GET A PLATONIC ANGELDUST X READER??

SOO LIKE THE READER IS THIS GLOOMY PIECE OF SHIT AND ANGEL HATES THAT SO HE TRIES TO MAKE THEM FEEL BETTER?? THAMK YOU!!!

GLOOMY .

; pairing ; angel dust + reader (platonic)

; note ; he's so sweet i love my boy

; warnings ; references to depression, despair, and feeling hopeless

you were laying in bed, surrounded by the suffocating darkness of your room in the hotel. groans escaped your lips as you felt the weight of your own gloom pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. each day seemed to blend into the next, a monotonous cycle of despair and decay.

angel dust couldn't stand seeing you like this. your gloominess grated against himself like nails on a chalkboard. he strutted into your room, uninvited as always, his heels clicking against the floor with an air of exaggerated confidence.

"what the hell is up with you?" angel exclaimed, his cerise-pink eyes scanning the dimly lit room. "you're practically oozing gloom, and it's giving me a fuckin' headache!"

you turned to face him, your expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. "sorry, angel. it's just… i don't know. everything feels pointless."

angel rolled his eyes dramatically, flopping down on the edge of your bed with a dramatic sigh. "pointless? honey, you're in hell! everything's fuckin' pointless here, but that doesn't mean you have to mope around like a damn zombie."

you couldn't help but crack a small smile at his theatrics.

"come on, toots," he continued, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern. "let's get you out of this funk. how about we go grab some drinks downstairs where husk is? i'll even let you pick the cocktails."

you hesitated for a moment, glancing away from angel dust's hopeful gaze. "no, i'm not really in the mood for that. i appreciate the offer, though," you replied, your voice carrying the weight of your persistent melancholy.

angel's expression shifted from optimism to a genuine concern, and for a moment. "hey, come on, don't shut yourself in like this. you're missing out on all the fun, babe."

you sighed, a heavy acknowledgment of your own reluctance. "i just don't feel up to it, angel."

angel dust tilted his head, his fluffy white hair falling to the side. "listen, y/n, i get it. hell can be a real shitshow. but shuttin' yerself away won't make it any betta. sometimes you gotta embrace it, ya know?"

you couldn't help but appreciate his attempt at uplifting you, even if the weight of your gloom persisted. "it's just hard."

angel patted your shoulder, a surprisingly gentle touch beneath his flashy exterior. "you're not alone. we're all a bunch of misfits in this hotel, and we've got each other's backs."

he flashed a crooked grin, attempting to inject some humor into the conversation. "besides, who's gonna keep me entertained if you're not around to shit on everyone with me?"

you chuckled despite yourself, a small crack in the armor of your gloom. "you're impossible."

he winked,. "damn right i am. now, how about we at least crack open a bottle in your room? we don't need husk to have a good time."

#ANGELDUST #angeldust #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin #angel dust x reader #y/n #reader insert #x reader #ask #hazbin hotel velvette

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arabellasleopardcoat · 5 months

Text

Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?” The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

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Huge, broody and terribly lonely older farmer König who pervs on the cute, new, young farmhand girl he hired :((

He kinda expected a cocky young man or a middle aged cranky woman but did expect this sweet little thing to chirp up at him and smile like she's the sun :(( would definitely jerk off to the fantasy of making her his housewife, the farmowner's lady and breeding her good with his babies like the perfect stud he is♡

OhGOD

CW: 18+ ONLY Lonely, pervy farmer!König masturbating at the sight of his young farmhand miss strolling on the farm on her day off :) {implied sexism}

Imagine him expecting a cocky young man he needs to yell at for being on his phone instead of feeding the pigs or whatever, or expecting some muscled, cranky, older lady who knows how to do their job but who would nag at him about stupid things such as not keeping the house clean enough.

Instead, he’s met with a cute, classy young woman at the gate, a meek little thing who stares at him, eyes wide just from the sight of how big he is, lips parting just from taking in his shoulders and the furious furrow of his brow. Her lashes flutter as she extends her hand to greet him, explaining that she may look like a city girl but she can assure that she is a hard-working woman who grew up on a small farm and has recently begun to miss the country way of life.

She has soft hands, soft lips, soft everything, and he knows he’s fucked. She’s everything he has ever hoped for, everything he ever wanted but could never have.

He tries to appear more gentle and less menacing because he doesn’t want to scare her away. Any other spineless, soft young thing he would've thrown out before even letting them stay for the trial period of two weeks – but this little beauty? She can stay, if just for a while.

She’s probably not used to hard work, no matter what she claims; her hands look far too smooth and dainty for the hauling and carrying and raking and cleaning that's required here. He almost feels bad when sending her to do her chores, but she manages the place surprisingly well, and when it’s her day off she wanders around the farm in a cute summer dress, chewing on the hay that dangles from her mouth, leaning on the wooden fence and enjoying the view. There's a wide brim straw hat on her head, and she has to hold it with one hand because it’s so big and floppy that it threatens to cover her eyes. The dress hugs her form just right and has a large, puffy hem that reveals a lovely pair of bare legs, legs that would feel heavenly when wrapped around his hard middle, legs he would make soft and quivering and weak with multiple, tear-inducing orgasms.

She’s a sight for sore eyes, and his dick is hard in a second; there’s really nothing he can do about it.

Usually, he jerks himself off quickly in the morning before rising from the bed, sullen and already grumpy because the only thing that ever sees his love is the cold, cum-stained sheets. The only warm thing ever wrapped around his cock is his own hand, beating the needy flesh in anger and despair because he missed the odd chance of ever seducing a woman to live on this lonely, remote farm with him.

Now he at least has something nice to look at while taking the heavy cock out of his work pants. He’s looking through the window like some perverted stalker; looking at the cutest, most condescending and naive woman on earth, walking on his property like the pretty little decoration she is.

She has all the traits of a perfect housewife: she could cook and bake for him while he does the hard work, she could do the laundry and look nice inside his big old house, finally bringing some much-needed joy and softness into his life. He would make her happy every night: it might take a while to bully his cock into her, but she would eventually like the ugly act; he would make sure of that.

He could eat her stupid little cookings, no doubt healthy and wholesome and lovingly homemade – and he could eat her out come evening. She must taste like the sweetest dessert down there. He would pay for her services in full, he would make it worth her while to be the perfect little wife, he would take care of her and buy her a thousand dresses like the one she wears, if she only warmed his bed at night...

He knows he’s a pervert and a freak, not only a freak of nature with his outrageous height and broad shoulders, but a freak of mind as well. He knows she would wince in disgust if she were to turn around and look at what’s happening behind the window: she would raise that delicate hand on her lips and gasp in shock if she were to see him fapping his drooling cock while watching her in that lush dress, so sweet and innocent and pure.

He can't see it now, but he knows there are beads of sweat gathering between those fragile little collarbones of hers. It's the hottest summer since the year he was born, and he knows the sweat is currently travelling down between those perfect breasts, held plush and perky by that dress he wants to rip to shreds. He would lick that sweat from between her tits and make her moan and tug his head from doing so if she would only let him. His balls pull taut, they almost jump at the thought, and the precum makes the end of the wank a slicky, noisy business.

He’s a bastard and a dog for not even bothering to reach for a piece of paper or a towel, deciding he can just shoot his cum on the window and make her clean it afterwards.

He wonders if the cute little miss will faint when she realizes what he has done... He wonders if the innocent young lady even knows it's loads of cum she's wiping away.

#answered #sorry not even remotely sorry #könig smut

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angelshadowsinger · 1 year

Text

Supposed to Be Together {part 2}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.0k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: false unrequited love, self-doubt 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 . 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦. 𝘐 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘈𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 3 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦… 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘩𝘩𝘢. 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺~

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

It was only hours after Azriel had left that he had been called on duty and his presence had all but disappeared from the Night Court. His departure from the Court was noticeable immediately for you, the distance between your bodies making your heart ache and your despair plunge even deeper somehow.

You were still in your bed, the smell of your mate clinging to you. Each inhale of your mixed scents was bittersweet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the sheets. His arms were around you for such a short time– you were glad that you had cherished every moment before sleep overtook you last night. His touch, his lips, and his teeth had been on your skin just hours ago, and the ghost of them lingered on every inch of your skin.

You closed your eyes, fresh tears trailing down your raw cheeks as you allowed the scene from this morning to replay again, for what already felt like the thousandth time.

“I never should have touched you last night.”

Your lip trembled.

“It wasn’t right.”

It was so hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry.”

What did that even mean?

You sobbed, throwing one of your numerous pillows across the room. It must’ve knocked something over because shortly after, the shattering of glass sounded some distance away. You didn’t bother sitting up to see what had broken. It wasn’t like you planned to leave your bed anytime soon.

Why would you do anything if your mate rejected you?

But was this even truly rejection, though? He had said so little before he took leave this morning; the only emotion you could feel besides your overwhelming self-pity was confusion.

Having the spymaster for a mate was infuriating; how were you supposed to be able to tell what he was thinking when he always wore that measured mask of calm? Weren’t you supposed to be the one person he was truly himself with? Why wouldn’t he want to share his feelings with you, when all you’d been was kind and warm to him?

Perhaps he had finally felt safe enough last night to tell you some of his thoughts, coupled with the deceitful confidence alcohol always brings.

“I love you.”

You shuddered, your body recalling the sheer ecstasy that had paired with those sweet, simple words. You allowed yourself to remember how his silky-soft hair had felt between your fingers, the scratch of his calloused, scarred hands wandering over your curves, the sweep of his tongue along the column of your throat.

Feeling like this was awful. It only solidified your logic prior to last night; that you should have kept your bond a secret from the shadowsinger. Maybe the bond itself was a mistake, if Azriel couldn’t even realize it was there after you had given everything to him.

A muffled rap on your bedroom door summoned you from your darkening thoughts.

Sitting up, you perched on the edge of your bed with ears perked, keen on discovering who dared to intrude your sorrow. The heavy door cracked open, just enough to let a mass of beautiful blonde waves poke inside.

“Hey, I heard a crash and I just wanted to check if…” Mor started, earthy orbs flicking over you intent on finding the disturbance but then double-taking at the gloom radiating off of you.

You didn’t bother hiding your puffy eyes, the mess of hair that had knotted and mussed about from tossing in your sheets the last few hours. This female was much too smart for you to feign togetherness, and she was indeed the only soul that you had confided in about the very bond that was now tormenting you.

Mor stepped into your room silently, eyes still trained on you as she closed the door with a quiet thud. She locked the handle, even though the pair of you both knew it was a rather insignificant measure, considering nearly everyone who entered the House of Wind was riddled with magic. Regardless, it was an acknowledgement that you wanted your misery to go unnoticed by the rest, at least for now. A burst of gratitude warmed your aching heart for your friend who could read you like an open book, words not necessary.

The bed dipped beside you as she sat down– softly. As if, if she plonked down you’d shoot up from the mattress and smash into a thousand pieces on the tiled floor below.

She was quiet for a minute, politely examining the curtains on the far balcony, her nail beds… then, admitting, “I have the worst hangover right now.”

It actually made you laugh.

Just a small, hollow one, but nonetheless, you hadn’t expected even that from your lips today.

Your friend half-smiled at the sound, eying you from her periphery. Her grin faded quickly, her strong, warm fingers coming to rest over yours on top of the velvet duvet. “You look like shit, babe. What happened?”

Her query was barely a whisper, but still you froze, unwilling to meet her gaze. Your shoulders shrugged and you could tell your face was beginning to pinch, twisting into that ugly look that only ever accompanied deep, painful sobs and gasping tears. Regaling what the shadowsinger had said to you felt impossible, like it would only gauge at the wound that was already maiming you.

Mor waited with gentle patience, rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand.

Eventually words found you, but your voice was raw and nearly cracked as you murmured, “I can’t, Mor… it– he doesn’t–” You barely managed to get that far, eyes stinging with another onslaught of saline anguish. She nodded, rubbing your arm, sympathy in her gaze. “Please, can you just– just–” your lungs seized up as you battled another fit of sobs, unable to keep your emotions at bay any longer and your cheeks wetting again.

The blonde hugged you fiercely, her strong grip holding you together while you cried into her shoulder, soothing you and petting your hair. At the moment, she wondered if you knew that you deserved the world, and she also wondered just which method she would use to neuter a certain spymaster the next time they crossed paths…

⸻

It had now been one day and some hours since Azriel left on his mission and his rejection still burned white-hot in your mind, a brand that left an unignorable ache in your bones and a crater in your chest.

Mor had been able to reign off the crew for at least yesterday, claiming you were having the nastiest, most rancid hangover of the century. She said the two of you would be spending the day recovering together. After the night before, no one batted an eye. However, she unfortunately had to work today– not that she didn’t try to get out of it, but she did not prevail when it was her High Lord who called on her.

You had planned to spend today like the last, hidden away in sulking solitude. But you had forgotten about the weekly combat training with Cassian you were scheduled for this morning, and the commander himself had shown up at your bedroom door with hands on his hips, ready to tell you off.

Except with one look at the exhausted, tear-swollen face that had answered his relentless knocking, he caved and decided to make you pancakes instead. You had quietly pushed them around your plate as he and his mate shared looks and no doubt some mental assessment on the situation sitting across the table from them. But it had overall been a very uneventful meal, thankfully the two of them having enough sense not to interrogate you. You were grateful for their restraint; you didn’t know if you could cry any more and you didn’t really want to find out.

Then when you had wandered out for a small piece of sustenance around lunch, you cursed the Gods that the circle had assembled at the House for midday meal. Even though you tried your best to hide your dismal mood, every one of your friends had been able to instantly tell that you were dealing with something. Before any of them could ask why you looked so tired and depressed, you had skittered back to your asylum, unable to handle so many curious, pity-filled gazes.

The orange afternoon sky was now melting into purple, the evening arriving in typical Night Court grandeur. It was breathtaking as usual, yet even the stars that twinkled in the sky above seemed dimmer than usual. You sulked on your balcony, legs curled up to your chest as you sat on the plush chaise, a blanket wrapped around you despite the tepid summer breeze.

Panic bloomed in your chest as you recognized the beat of wings looming closer, an acrid taste forming on your tongue, but it was all fleeting as the High Lady of the Night Court gracefully landed a few steps away from you.

Feyre was always gorgeous, but her second pregnancy had made her glow with a certain brilliance that had you in awe. Slightly jealous, even. It was so rare for High Fae to be blessed with another child so soon after the last, and she had a loving, attentive mate who took care of her every need. But the bitterness only lasted for a second, because you knew the female before you deserved all the blessings she had, after all she had sacrificed and endured.

“My Lady,” you greeted, scrambling to get up. But Feyre only placed a hand on your shoulder, her conjured wings disappearing into thin air before she took a seat beside you on the chaise.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that every time you see me?” she smiled, her touch warm and somehow pacifying your frayed nerves. She was the embodiment of a High Lady; kind, fierce, strong, and caring. She was an even better friend. Though she was powerful, perhaps more powerful than Rhysand, she did not scare you, for you’d come to know her during the time you’d settled into her Court. During the time you’d become one of her healers.

“Gods–” you gasped in realization, fingers coming to your lips and wide eyes meeting her careful gaze. “I forgot about your appointment this afternoon, I– I’m so sorry Feyre, I–”

“I know,” she took your hand from your face, lithe fingers enveloping yours just as Mor’s had yesterday. “Please don’t apologize, there's no need… I know.”

You looked at her for a while, searching for confirmation. And she just looked back at you, no pity, no questions. Just… understanding.

“You know?” You whispered, fixing the blanket that had fallen from your other shoulder, “About… me and… Az?”

She nodded.

You studied the floor, the leaves that lay there, scattered by the wind. Mor wouldn’t have told her, you were confident in that. You supposed it was obvious, then– your longing looks at the shadowsinger, all the time the two of you spent together. Feyre was perhaps the most perceptive of emotion in the Inner Circle, but still– how had she seen it when your mate hadn’t?

Anxiety tickled at you. “Does Rhys?”

Feyre snorted, bright eyes rolling. “Gods, with his thick-skull?” A pause, before, “...He does, now. Took him long enough, though.”

You allowed that to sit for a moment, then bit your lip. “Does… everyone?”

The female sighed. “I’m not sure. We have not discussed it, though I think it’s safe to say that after today, everyone suspects.”

You were surprisingly numb. Perhaps you had exhausted all the tears you could manage, your overwhelming emotions drained. So everyone knew, probably even Madja. How humiliating.

Feyre spoke after a while, when it was clear you would not be the one to break the silence. “The way he looks at you… I had my theories about the pair of you. Hopes, actually.”

You glanced at her, surprised. She only smiled, and looked away, studying the silhouette of the mountains in the far, dark horizon.

“I heard about your outing the other night. Cass told me that you all got piss-drunk at Rita’s, and you got Az to dance. Rhys and I howled at that, it’s been so long since Az has given anyone the time of day,” she was quiet in her explanation, as were you. “I… we hoped that something might’ve happened, finally. But then yesterday morning, word came of an incident at Windhaven, and Rhys called Az and Cass in for a meeting.”

You stiffened, shocked. You had suspected that Azriel had begged Rhysand for a mission, a reason to flee– been happy to have an excuse to get as far as he could from you and the drunken confession he’d let slip only hours before. But he was actually on duty, had a legitimate reason for disappearing. Not that that would excuse the way he left your quarters, but still– it was a pinch of comfort to your aching heart.

“Az was… I’ve never seen him like that. Rhys and Cass were shocked, too. He was just so… so angry, unmasked when he came in. He was obviously upset and brooding more than ever– short with Cass, with Rhys, with me. The three of them went to Windhaven after that, Rhys wanted to get him away, for him to harness that foul mood and put it to use there. The situation deescalated enough for them to leave around dawn, but someone needed to stay behind to make sure the camp would get back on the right track, so that’s where Az is now. Rhys told me he was going to have Cass stay, but Az was still riled up, and he thought it was better this way.

When Cass saw you this morning, he let us know and that’s why we were all here for lunch. We just wanted to make sure you were okay, but you looked so… broken, I knew Az had gone and fucked it up. That’s why he was so irate yesterday, why he was mad at himself. I don’t know what exactly happened between you two, but I know you both cherish each other so much. I’m sorry he does not have the emotional prowess to best handle this situation, he’s never been great with his feelings. Especially not sharing them…”

Feyre was looking at you then, gauging your frown and the far-away look of reflection in your gaze.

“Azriel is my mate,” you said eventually. It was only the second time you’d said the words aloud, the first being to Mor in near silent secrecy. “We were drunk and we had sex the other night… and he still doesn’t know. I gave him everything and he… left two minutes after waking up that morning. He said he was sorry and then he just left me there.”

She blinked. Then snarled, shooting up with her fists clenched at her sides. “That stupid male!” She started pacing before you, measured but still, wrath seeping in her wake. You had a feeling that if she was holding anything right now it would sail off the balcony and into the night.

You smiled a little at her anguish. Friends like Mor and Feyre were rare and you had come to love them like sisters, especially in moments like these.

After she had sat down beside you again in a huff, you asked the question that was eating at you for so long now. “What if he never realizes?”

Feyre exhaled, long and pained. She took her time to formulate her answer, but that was fine; you were terrified of what she would say.

“I think, deep down, he knows already,” she said. You weren’t sure if that was relief or panic you were feeling. “I think the only reason the bond hasn’t set for him is because he’s in denial. Denial that the Gods would ever bless him with such an amazing, beautiful, compassionate female. He has… scars. Very deep, emotional scars that trick him into thinking he is undeserving of love. This is all just my speculation, of course– every time I try to talk deeply with him, he clams up. He does with everyone, even his brothers. I’m sorry, I know that’s not an excuse for how he treated you.”

And it wasn’t an excuse, not really. But it did make your hurt wash away a bit, it helped you understand him and why he acted like that. It made sense.

But fear still had its icy claws sunk into you, grip unrelenting. Because even if all that sounded plausible, perhaps it was truly just conjecture. Perhaps he did not want a mate at all, perhaps he did not want anything to do with you. Perhaps that was why the bond would not snap for him, why he had left so suddenly that morn…

Yet he had told you that he loved you. That he thought you were beautiful, that he thought so every day.

Everything was so confusing.

“Thank you, Feyre,” you murmured then.

Her insight had been helpful, even if you were still deep in turmoil, it had been nice to talk to someone who was not Mor. However, you knew that nothing could be solved unless you talked to him… and the premise of doing so made a shiver go through your bones. Of either absolute salvation or rejection. There was going to be no in between. You were terrified… but you couldn’t stop it. All you could do was wait for his return, and then you would have to see if you felt brave enough to look fate in the eye.

The High Lady could see that you were in deep contemplation, but she had also reached the same conclusion as you. She pivoted then, taking your hand and placing it on her protruding belly. You smiled, the sentiment not quite reaching your eyes.

“She kicked for the first time today,” she informed, and you gasped. Your issues seemed so small in comparison to the life that was blooming in her belly, then, even if they truly weren’t. But you welcomed the distraction, thankful for the female beside you.

“So your visit with Madja went well today, then? I promise I will not forget again…”

⸻

Feyre stayed with you for another hour before she had insisted you join the family for dinner. She slipped away to ready herself and left you alone once again, now sitting on one of the couches inside your quarters.

The House had changed your bedding yesterday when Mor was distracting you, yet somehow, all you craved at the moment was to lay face down in those ruined sheets and inhale your mate’s scent that was plastered to them. Maybe that was filthy of you, but you so desperately wanted to be in his arms at the moment, so desperately needed him to be near. You curled up into a ball on top of the fresh duvet, closing your eyes as you imagined him behind you, strong arm wrapped around you like it had been the other morning.

Your chest hurt at the memory.

No, it wasn’t hurt– it was… longing, it was– tension, like the string of a guitar, taut, and– a snap. You shot upright, eyes wide, hand over your heart. The bond– it was the bond that you felt just then, it was Azriel, he– warmth washed over you.

Then, you whimpered.

He had strummed the thread of the bond, harder this time, with intent, recognition.

You didn’t know what to feel. You wanted to throw up, to cry, to jump up and down.

He felt it.

He knew.

You wondered how this was possible, with him being so physically far away. Wasn’t it traditional for the bond to snap with your mate right in front of you? Yes, but then, your relationship with the shadowsinger was far from traditional– you’d lain together just the other night and the bond hadn’t set for him then, so what was different now?

Could he feel what you were feeling? Could you feel what he was feeling?

You panted, trying to calm down, to focus, and see if you could…

Regret.

It was so profound you gasped like you’d been struck. There was so much regret pulsing on the other side of your bond, it was stifling, all-consuming. After weeks of radio silence from the other side of the bond, it was too much.

Quickly you put up your walls. You couldn’t breathe, panic taking hold.

This was too much for you– what if– what if he came to you? What if he fell on his knees and pleaded for you, and you– what if you could have him? Really have him, like you were meant to, like you had dreamed of? Your thoughts had been so overwhelmingly dark these past days, you had not at all allowed yourself to consider that he could possibly accept the bond; accept you. You began pacing, clammy palms smoothing down the simple velvet dress you had put on in preparation for dinner.

Anxious, you were so godsdamned anxious.

When would he be back? What would he say? Would you hear him out? Would you have the strength to look at him? You had cried for two days now, there was no strength left, not even enough power for you to fake it.

You were still trying to force yourself to calm down when there was a knock on your door.

You froze, immediately wondering if somehow it was him. But you’d come to know the sense that would sound in your body when he came near, and you knew that you’d have known if he was back from his mission. You made yourself walk over to the entrance to your room, opening the large door to find the eldest Archeron sister there, looking you over inquisitively.

“Dinner’s ready,” Nesta said, eyeing your slightly off-beat breath, the semi-wild look in your gaze.

Reminding yourself that she probably had her suspicions, that apparently everyone did, you put on a fake smile and nodded, stepping out of your room and following her down the hall.

Mor, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, Amren, and Nyx were all spread out around the living space when Nesta and you wandered in. All eyes jumped straight to you, any conversation halting, appraising you after you had appeared so sullen at lunch just hours before.

“Um… Hi?” You offered, a meek wave accompanying it. Amren was looking at you peculiarly– actually, everyone was, but you tried to ignore it, embarrassed to have them all have seen you in your sorry state this afternoon.

It was Nyx who called your name, popped up, and ran over to you, his face pressing into your stomach as he gave you a sweet hug. You looked down at him and smiled, a hand carding through his short onyx locks. You were about to greet the boy when he looked up at you and said matter-of-factly, “You smell weird.”

Both Rhysand and Cassian coughed at the same instant, the High Lord subtly turning around and wandering into the kitchen while his commander turned to inspect the fire that was crackling in the hearth. There was amusement in the air between the females, and mortification as you realized that everyone could probably smell the bond now that it had been realized on both ends.

Your cheeks darkened and you forced a laugh, poking the boy on the nose and replying with a weak, “You smell weird.”

Nyx frowned and he looked so cute like that, like a tiny Rhys in contemplation. He lifted an arm and sniffed himself, then you again, and you could see the connection in his bright purple gaze. “Oh! You smell like–”

Feyre clasped a hand over her son’s mouth, materializing behind him as she jerked her head toward the table, where various plates piled high with piping hot food had appeared. “Would you look at that, dinner is served! Let’s eat!”

Everyone filled their seats quite swiftly, wanting to be done with the elephant in the room. Cassian and Rhys started a low conversation, something of the updates on the training ring at the top of the house, while Feyre fussed with fixing Nyx’s plate and tucking a napkin into his shirt.

You silently filled your plate, the delicious scent of the food tempting you to eat something more than just bread or water.

You had just finished your third bite of potatoes when the hairs on your arm rose straight up, and your heart felt like it was about to fall three floors below you and into the rocky mountain itself.

His presence was nearing, your grip on your fork tightening, knuckles draining of color. Mor was looking at you from across the table, but you didn’t look up, fixing your eyes on the barely-touched food on the plate before you. Suddenly you didn’t feel like eating– didn’t feel like opening your mouth at all. You just wanted to shrink into the shadows and pause your existence.

Rhys and Cassian stopped talking as they heard the tell-tale thud of boots hitting the tile at the front of the house, just one room over. You still had your walls up but you could feel him now, feel the bond tight in the center of your chest, feel your mate storming over to the room.

More anxiety. And some twisted form of excitement.

It was hot, you felt like you were melting all of the sudden, like prey cornered by an apex predator, knowing it was about to meet its fate.

And then he was there, you could see his tall, massive form in the doorway, shadows billowing out from him and scattering around the room. You could feel his eyes locked on you the second he rounded the corner. The intensity in them was unbearable.

Waiting.

Silence.

Staring.

But you were stubborn, and you would not look at anything else but your plate, even as you felt multiple gazes turn to you. Your body was near shaking, screaming at you to look at him, to run to him and throw yourself at him. Blatant want was pulsing through you, and you were horrified to think that any one of the others were witnessing this, especially little Nyx, who had stopped eating and now was looking between you two just like everyone else.

You noticed a shadow come to greet you underneath the table, its silky cool touch wrapping around your ankle in greeting. You could only think about how they had held your limbs the other night, and godsdamned this was not helping, you were supposed to be mad, or sad, or– anything but horny right now, what the fuck?

“Azriel,” Rhys greeted, his chair screeching on the floor as he stood up. Ever the leader, attempting to deescalate the situation that was about to unleash.

The shadowsinger glanced at him, and even though it was just for a moment, it was great reprieve when his intense eyes left the side of your head. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath, and you tried your best to quiet the near gasp you made as you inhaled. And then he was already looking at you again, acknowledging his brother with a curt, “Rhys.”

Then he took a step toward you and you jumped, your fork clattering onto the table with a loud noise. You stared at it with wide eyes, noting it was slightly bent in the middle, where you had squeezed it.

Cassian shot up from his seat then, which was located right between Azriel and you. His broad figure blocked you from Azriel’s view for a moment and the spymaster actually snarled at his brother, the noise sending shivers through your entirety. Your gaze moved over in his direction then, the wall of Illyrian between you giving you enough courage to look up.

Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their chairs, ready to pounce if Azriel decided to cut right through his brother to get to you.

“Azriel,” Rhys said again, this time his tone dark. Some of his power was leaking out now, clearly annoyed his brother was acting like this right in the middle of dinner, in front of his son, his family. “I need your debrief of Windhaven, now. It is urgent.”

Azriel whipped to look at him then, his scarred hands clenched so tight by the side of his hips you wondered if his nails were drawing blood. It was the only part of him you could see besides his legs, his face still concealed behind his brother.

But then Cassian moved, and you cursed him as your gaze met your mate’s.

You couldn’t help it; you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. He was so devastatingly beautiful, even covered in dirt and grime from his mission, from his flight. He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept for days, disheveled and exhausted, but somehow he was the most handsome you had ever seen him. His honey gaze was piercing you, so much emotion muddled there, his brow cinching and his lip trembling just a bit. The bond tugged gently at your chest and you nearly cried as he took every detail of you in, all the torment that he had inflicted clear in your eyes and the sunken bags that laid beneath them.

Rhys said his name, again, this time with warning. The Illyrian flinched at the command from his High Lord, but his eyes still did not leave yours. You felt him, pushing and clawing at your mental walls, desperately trying to reach out to you.

You couldn’t do anything but look at him. You just kept gawking at him as Cassian came to his side, his hand softly pushing his shoulder as Rhys came to do so to the other. And Azriel threw you one more futile look of longing before he forced himself to turn and prowl off to the meeting room with his brothers.

Once you had heard the door shut, ensuring they were locked away now, you breathed, tearing your gaze from the spot your mate had just stood in. All of the women at the table were looking at you, at the obvious distress you were now allowing to set in, wondering how they could help you. Nyx, thankfully, went back to eating.

The thought of trying to force the food before you into your mouth made your stomach twist tightly, unease rising. You had to get out, just– be anywhere but here. Azriel was right there in the other room now, and it would only be so long before his brothers could stop him from coming to you, from giving you your answer.

“I– I think I’ve lost my appetite,” you said, and it was not a lie. You stood up, fixing your hair behind your ear as you turned. “Thank you for dinner, but I need to go.”

Mor stood as you rounded the table, but you just put your hand up to her. You couldn’t right now, you just needed to be alone. Their hot gazes followed you until the hallway swallowed you up, and you were jogging, running to your room, slamming the door shut.

You wanted to throw up, but there was barely anything in your stomach. Your fingers raked your hair, and you started pacing again, taking great strides from one side of your room to the other.

Gods, this was the most anxious you had felt in a long time. You were trying desperately to calm your breaths, to no avail. You were panting, every emotion you’d come to know coursing through you. You tried to sort through them.

First, you were scared. You were scared that you were about to face your mate, and this would be the first time he knew just what he was to you, what you were to him. You were scared that he would reject you, that he would speak those terrible words that haunted your nightmares, that he did not want you. But you were also scared that he would want you. Your friendship had become so meaningful that you were scared, scared to have someone who knew you so well now having full ownership of your heart, your body.

Then you were hopeful. You were hoping that he did want you– after all, the look he had given you ten minutes ago had been so fully loaded that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. And even now, with him locked away in that meeting, you could feel him through the bond, caressing your shields, trying to get through them, to get to you.

Then you were angry. He had taken so damn long to realize what you were to him. He had made that whole spectacle at dinner, in front of everyone, and he– He had left you that morning without more than twenty words, your questions unanswered.

Then you were freaking out again, because you started to prickle and you could feel him getting closer now, stalking toward your door. He stopped right there, with just the door to separate him from you, and paused.

You could see his shadows creeping under the door, longing for a glimpse of you, wandering over to where you now resided on the sofa. One climbed the leg of it, tentatively sliding onto your finger before making its way up your arm. You shivered, still as it came to curl around your jaw, caressing your face as if it were his hand instead. You didn’t realize you had started crying again, surprised when the shadow wiped the corner of your eye.

You stood up and it shrunk off of you, flickering back to report to its master, who still stood silent on the other side of the door. He was still pawing at your mental walls, and you were clinging so hard to your anger that was quickly dwindling, because if you didn’t hold onto that, you were sure either fear or hope would take over and that meant you would have to face him with your heart on your sleeve.

The shadow must have snitched about your tears, because he pulled on the bond, and you nearly fell to your knees at the intensity of it burning in your chest.

“Y/N,” he said your name quietly through the door, just loud enough for you to hear him. “Please let me in.”

But you couldn’t move, your feet stuck to the rug beneath you. You remembered the last time he was in your room, the way his words had scathed you, and you didn’t think you could survive if he decided to reject you again.

“Please,” he pleaded, his voice raw, as if he had screamed at the sky all the way home to you.

You closed your eyes, trying to muster the strength that this conversation would require. The door thudded softly, and you could just picture how his head had dipped down and bumped it then, his grief and desire and love flooding the bond.

“Please just listen to my apology.” His voice was trembling and your heart was breaking, more tears trailing down your cheeks. “If you want nothing to do with me after that, then… I understand.”

Your entire being was screaming at you to open the door, even though you were still so mad at him. You needed to open the door for him.

You needed your mate, and you didn’t have the strength to fight your instincts anymore, shooting across the room and grabbing the handle.

𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘮. 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵~ 𝘛𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 ;)

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#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #angelshadowsinger #StBT series

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makeyoumine69 · 7 months

Text

Painkiller 2

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: You begged Patrick for a good fuck, and who is he to deny it to his sweet little girl?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, pet names, degradation (reader is called some names), Daddy kink, dirty talk, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), pregnancy sex/kink, creampie/breeding kink, semi-public sex.

— WORDS: 1.5k

— A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus in posting, I'm still trying to restore some energy, but I hope you enjoy this little piece of text!

— LINKS: [Previous part] [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

"Now you be a good girl and keep those pretty lips of yours quiet." Patrick drawled, his eyes ablaze with wicked intent. He lowered his head, pressing a fierce kiss on the side of your neck.

Trembling, you gasped breathlessly as your inner walls clenched around nothing, yearning for his hot, rock hard flesh to be inside of you.

“Patrick,” you murmured, pulling him closer, your taut nipples were visible through the thin material of your hospital gown. “I… I want you.”

"You needy little slut," Bateman hissed, his eyes fixed on the tantalizing sight of your hardened little peaks, then he leaned down to capture one nipple with his teeth, biting down gently through the fabric, eliciting a muffled whimper from you. "I'm going to fill you up, babydoll," he promised in a dark whisper. "Every fucking inch of you, until you're dripping with me."

With his free hand, Patrick began to fumble with his belt, every nerve on edge with anticipation, his dick aching with desperate need, bulging against the tight confines of his Armani pants.

"Mmhm—Daddy," a muffled moan escaped your lips, your hands clinging desperately to his strong biceps. "I w-want to give you as many children as you want."

Shaking like a leaf, your body desperately longed to be claimed by him again and again, a feeling even stronger than despair — belonging to him was as vital as breathing air.

“Oh, you have no idea what you're in for… Do you, honey?" Bateman taunted, his voice low and possessive.

Patrick couldn't help but groan as the heat of your hands threatened to burn right through the fabric of his expensive shirt.

"Do you really like seeing me pregnant?" You wondered as you sensed his long, thin fingers playing with your tender flesh. "I'm so nervous about gaining so much weight, Daddy." Your voice was tinged with embarrassment as he removed your hospital gown.

"Like?" Patrick rejoined, a devilish chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Damn, dollface, I fucking love seeing you pregnant." His words were infused with raw desire, his gaze sweeping over your swollen form with predatory intensity. The sight of his seed blooming in life within you was a heady combination of possession and power, a tantalizing cocktail that sent his nerves ablaze.

Carefully, you got down on all fours on the hospital bed in front of him, your legs already trembling with sweet anticipation from what about to come. "I need you so much, but please don't hurt the baby."

"Don't worry, darling, Daddy knows just what he's doing." His words hung in the air between you two, possessive and domineering.

Then without further ado, Bateman plunged his throbbing length into your heat, his low groan echoing off the walls of the room. With skilled control, he began to move against your shivering, little form; his grip retaining a firm hold on your hips as they moved to the rhythm of your shared lust. The sensation of your soft inner walls beginning to clench around him, already coaxing gruff moans from his lips. This was where he belonged, buried deep within you, imprinting himself onto every fiber of your being.

"It's so deep… a-awww," you whimpered, and then you had to bite the pillow to suppress all the lewd sounds as you were desperately doing your best to take him in completely. "Daddy, p-please!”

"Oh, sweetness," Patrick grunted in response, pleasure clawing its way up his spine as you tightened around him. Gently, he traced a single manicured thumb in circles around the small of your back, the reminder to be careful tucked safely in the back of his mind. "You like it deep, don't you? Like feeling me fill up your slutty little pussy?"

The potential of being caught only seemed to add an extra dose of adrenaline to your veins, the thrill of it making your hearts practically thud in their cages.

"Now hush," Bateman ordered with a sharp thrust of his hips, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Don't want the good doctors to find out how much of a slut their patient is, do we?" He quipped, his fingers tightening around your hip as he continued his relentless pace; his other hand came down to rub teasing circles around your clit, his aim to drive you as crazy with need as you drove him.

Panting, you leaned on your elbows to minimize the weight on your pregnant bump. The fear of damaging the baby couldn't really let you relax and enjoy the moment of intimacy you were sharing, but you kept quiet, only the sounds of heavy panting and flesh hitting flesh filling the hospital room.

"I w-want you to make me pregnant again, Daddy…" You mewled against the pillow, gripping it as hard as you could from the overwhelming sensation of being so full.

Why was it so hot? To be claimed by his seed, even though you were already pregnant, you had a wicked desire to be bred again and again.

"God, you drive me fucking insane, honey," Patrick groaned as your pussy clamped around his cock once more, truly testing his control. "Give you another one, huh?" He snarled, the sound echoing off the stark white walls of the room. "Fine… a-argh… I’ll spill my fucking seed inside you again…" He growled, losing himself in the fierce desire to mark you in the most intimate way possible.

Nothing was as intoxicating for him as the glazed look in your beautiful eyes, the satisfaction of knowing he would paint your insides with his seed, claiming you as his again and again. Even in a twisted world such as his, this was his greatest conquest, a show of dominance and possession that only spurred his desires further.

As you felt his pounding getting rugged and sloppy, you clung to his hands on your hips, gasping quietly in delight. "Cum for me, Daddy, please, c-cum for me!" Bateman couldn’t hold back it anymore as he spiralled into a blinding crescendo of pleasure, releasing his seed deep within you and keeping you close like a predator trapping its prey. Even though you didn't reach your high yet, you felt elevated by the blissful sensation of his warm liquid filling you from the inside. With a muffled sigh, you turned to look at him, but you couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness, though you knew how smug and arrogant he might be right now, so you decided to continue playing this game, boosting his ego even more.

"Gosh, it feels so good," you purred, spreading your legs wider as your own hand began to work on your feverish, little bud. "But I need you more."

Bateman leaned back, momentarily lost in the obscene picture you painted. "Uh, do you?" He teased, his words laced with thinly veiled lust as he maneuvered himself to his knees, the movement causing ripples in the muscles of his sculpted abs. "You want me to taste you, babe?"

With a smirk, Patrick dove right in, his tongue dipping into you with a harsh swipe as he tasted you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he feasted. The taste of his cum mixed with your own flavor was intoxicating. God, he would never get enough of you.

Whimpering obscenely, you pressed your face against the hospital bed, your insides ready to burn from pleasure as his masterful tongue knew exactly what to do, drawing invisible lines along your delicate petals, forcing you to soak so hard — you could feel your juices running down your inner thighs, but Bateman was immediately cleaning it up with his eager mouth.

"Ah, Daddy," you were so close and yet so embarrassed at the thought of someone outside hearing what the two of you were doing. "Please, please, please! I love you... I love you s-so much!" You almost wept, praying that you wouldn't get caught and that he wouldn't punish you for not being a good, obedient girl like he wanted you to be.

"You sound so pretty when you call me Daddy, sweetheart," Patrick moaned against your soft flesh, his voice a saccharine poison dripping into your ears. His tongue slid back up your slit, slower this time, the flat of it pressing against your bundle of nerves with agonizing restraint. "I'm not done with you yet." He warned, his tone foreboding as he dived back between your thighs with renewed energy, his tongue darting in and out of you in rhythmic motions.

"I'm cumming, D-Daddy, a-aww, I'm cumming," a quivering yelp escaped your half-open lips as you clutched the sheets of the hospital bed, your legs shaking in his tight grip. "Pat-Patrick!"

Paralyzed, you forgot how to breathe as your inner muscles began to spasm around his tongue, the sensation was so intense, so overwhelming — the knowledge that you belonged to this man completely and irrevocably was as astonishing as rain in the dry desert. After all, you wanted to carry as many children as he wanted, and the idea of being a tradwife for him didn't seem strange to you anymore.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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tiredcreatur3 · 1 year

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third part to the toji being your boyfriend’s father, enjoy.

“t-to.. to-toji.” you whimpered out, so so out of it as you rested your back against the wall, nothing on but a cropped tank top and your shorts that were now hanging by your ankle while the older male ate you out.

you were doing laundry in the laundry room downstairs while megumi was at work and toji just, well, decided to tag along.

he lifted you up on the drying machine with no problem after you pulled your shorts down and oh, nothing could’ve prepared you for this much pleasure.

you still felt shitty for doing this to megumi, for cheating on him with his fucking father of all people and it was definitely always in the back of your mind. you knew you were just as much of a scumbag as toji was now.

he just looked up at you, not stopping as his nose nudged at your clit nicely, having the man suckling on you so so well, your legs resting on his shoulders as you fell apart on his tongue.

you couldn’t even speak, cunt throbbing whenever the male pulled away just for a second before leaning right back in. your pussy was all warm and wet, getting taken care of so so well, turning into a gooey slimy mess whenever the older male got close to it.

you let out soft whines once the male pulled away and stood up, towering above you as he licked his lips and smiled. he had to admit that the view he had no was quite adorable, your legs all spread out, cunt wet and sore, all pink and buzzing for just the slightest touch or lick, your eyes all soft and glossy, wanting so much more, being so so corrupted by him that megumi didn’t even cross your mind.

“what is it? doesn’t feel good when someone teases you like that huh?” he rasped out, noticing how you pawed at his cock pathetically, desperately tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants as you shook your head.

“i-i’m sorry, ‘m s-sorry.. won’t tease a-again.” you whimpered out, trembling with excitement once the male gave in, pulling your hips closer without a problem and slowly sliding his pants down, never wearing underwear around the house so you were met with his cock instantly, the cockhead resting against your soft folds, the older male sighing quietly.

toji’s head fell back slightly as he closed his eyes, slowly rubbing the underside of his cock through your soft wet folds, quiet rumbly hums leaving him as his eyes closed, big palms resting on your thighs, squeezing them every now and then.

you stayed silent, watching in awe for a while before carefully angling your hips with a small whine, the tip of toji’s cock nudging at your little needy hole begging to be filled up.

the older looked down at you, his expression always being hard for you to read, he was a man of actions rather than words as you could already tell from knowing him for some time.

he knew what you wanted. it was simple really, you were nothing but a spoiled little brat to him and he loved seeing you in despair, looking at him with those soft sad eyes of yours whenever something didn’t go your way. and of course also a cock hungry cum dump. but you were way too dumb to realize that he assumed.

after a bit of you whining for his dick, he eventually gave in, putting it in nice and slow just to see your cute little reaction, always so surprised how your pussy swallowed up his cock so easily.

he began to thrust his hips quite fast though, catching you off guard as you gasped softly, tightening around his cock with a little whimper while letting the male push your thighs back.

“i-it feels so good.. f-feels so good.” you babbled dumbly, basically folded in half as the male fucked you, using you just like that because oh, even though you annoyed the fuck out of him most of the time, you could be such a sweet little girl while he fucked your brains out.

toji stared down at you, groaning lowly as his hips rolled into you at a nice steady pace, having you trembling and your pussy making all those squelchy little sounds, your slick coating his cock nicely and wetting his pubic hair.

“i-i’m gonna cum, t-to..” you let out, feeling the orgasm bubbling in your lower tummy, taking a look down which was definitely not a good decision because you were coming seconds later.

“good girl.” he hummed out, slowing down the pace of his hips but not stopping, giving you a little kiss into your hair as you let the older use your pussy all he wanted, shaking, all spent and fucked out.

you almost didn’t hear the front door close shut downstairs, gasping softly as toji covered your mouth with his hand, hiding half of your face behind it as he shushed you, fucking you nice and hard again, not being able to let out a single sound because of the hand and because of how much this turned you on, as wicked as it sounded.

your poor little pussy getting treated like you were nothing but an actual whore but oh, you’ve never felt this much pleasure in your entire fucking life.

“does it feel good? hm?” he let out, looking at you, cooing as he found you so so pathetic but he’d be lying if he said this didn’t turn him on.

you nodded your head, not even a single sound leaving you but it was getting so hard to not cum again and the male knew, feeling how you clamped down on his dick and soon came all over it, slumping against the wall even more when toji cane inside you nice and deep, keeping his cock inside for a second or two before pulling out slowly, humming softly.

“get dressed and finish the laundry.” he let out, pulling his pants on and leaving the small laundry room, leaving you all fucked out, womb filled with his cum as you needed a minute to pick yourself up.

#toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji x y/n #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro

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killerpancakeburger · 7 days

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Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2)

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

“Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him.

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified.

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily.

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it.

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst.

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks.

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.”

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…”

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that…

“Pretty please?”

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context.

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart.

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you can’t have.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed.

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality.

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor.

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter.

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it.

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

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kirosai · 1 year

Text

❦ a shining beginning.

content warnings!: sagau, yandere themes, some ooc for the harbingers, cult au, original sagau (reader teleported into genshin), gn!reader

❥The fatui are the ones to fear. The enemy, the antagonists, but, even then you’ve always taken a liking to them. the heartbreaking stories of the harbingers, the motive of the tsaritsa and even the short world quests of the Fatui agents.

❥It was a faraway dream for you, and anyone else to meet the harbingers. They were fictional of course! So… what exactly do you do when you wake up in the shining walls of the Zapolyarny Palace?…

that doctor. dottore. he always prayed upon you in his experiments, hoping they were successful as can be. a man of ice they would call him. but naturally, he’d bow to you. How utterly ironic the man that wants to detest the seven would bow to you. though, you were the light that guided him throughout all of those tireless nights filled with despair. as did you with everyone else. so it’s only natural, right?

so if you could see under that mask you’d see nothing but amazement and respect towards you. i’d bet money on him removing his mask if you wished him to. he’d halt any experiment, any mission, all for you. technically he could say that it’s.. a way of worshiping you, yes? not even her majesty the tsaritsa deserves an ounce of the worship he gives to you on a daily.

tartaglia, or childe as we know, we’ve all met him! you understand don’t you? he’s nothing but loyal, following you around like a guard dog, taking whatever praises he could get out of you!. except. it was all through a wall. a wall he couldn’t break.. you could only think about his reaction to you here. here! right in front of him! The light that guided him through the abyss, the reason for living! you.!

all of his life, until you was pure darkness, you gave him the push he needed! the blood he sheds is all in the name of sacrifice for you. the effort, the tears, the lives, all for you! so please treat him kindly! all he wants is your love and he’ll do anything to get it! although, don’t push him too hard, won’t you grant him the mercy oh kind, enchanting creator?

pantalone. that banker with his smile, his words, sugarcoated for others, but pure sickeningly sweet honey for you. he bought the most expensive gifts for you, diamonds, sapphires, rubies, all that you could imagine. his demeanor to many is nothing but fake, sugar coated lies to make them shut up. but.. you. you were different. you had the one thing he searched for all his life; warmth from this mean, cold world.

your heart was pure gold. at least, as he saw it. nothing he’d seen before. your presence was unexpected, yes, but he secretly hoped that you wouldn’t leave. all he wishes for is to bask in your ever so divine presence. although, yes you deny any sort of yourself being a god. he brushes it off as just a simple test of loyalty, it pushes him more to keep accommodate you to the best of his abilities so you feel the need to stay. oh dear what have you gotten yourself caught into?

with his act of.. er. of trying to understand divine knowledge. scaramouche had missed your first appearance. He felt guilty, and more so angry. not at you of course, but at himself. do not fear. he’ll be back, after hearing the news about your return to teyvat, he’ll be running back like the puppet he is. afterall, you are his true creator.

he might beg for forgiveness, or he might just bow, no matter who’s he is in front of, he’s at your beck and call. and the others respect that, one thing they can all agree with is you. after all, this is just the bare minimum of what they will and can do for you. he just wants you as much as everyone else. being one of the lucky ones meeting you first in the story, he got self awareness sooner than the others.

arlecchino, we’ve heard of her i'm sure. her loyalty to the tsaritsa is… questionable. although to you, it’s undeniable. something that the others may have a more difficult time of letting go of would be nothing but child’s play for her. she holds no true loyalty for the tsaritsa. and her majesty probably knows so, though she does nothing, because she knows how much you love arlecchino. to upset you would be a death wish.

so being able to see you in all your light and glory was eye-opening for her, looking back she never understood how she could’ve lived without you. as a child she dreamed of meeting you in person, now it’s finally happening! even a regular person could see it in her eyes. oh her eyes! how beautiful they are, she’s heard about you denying being the creator of teyvat, the god of gods, the beginning and the end, oh how she could go on and on! but, going forward, there is no reason to deny the absolute truth your grace!

“Wake up.” a gentle voice whispers.

A shame, you were having the best dream.

A bed, unknown at the least, although it was comfortable. It felt safe, oddly enough. Laying on your mattress, it was lined with white silken sheets, the soft smell of lavender filling your nose, it had the softest place you’ve ever slept on. it felt.. Unfamiliar.

Ah well, might as well keep sleeping. Maybe your bed was just extra comfortable today..

Wait

Muffled speaking outside the door, the whispers were untranslatable. In a foreign language you guessed. Observing your space, you realized you were in a large room, palace-like, the soft crackle of the fireplace to your left seemed to be the only warmth of the room. not your own room, or even house to say so. It was cold, but beautiful.

Oh! Of course. You must still be dreaming haha. Why else would you be here? Might as well just go back to sleep and wake up. right?

Which is what you do, but the horror of finding out you couldn't, you tried everything you could.. In the span of 3 minutes you tried, going back to sleep, pinching yourself, closing your nose, then just closing your eyes really, really hard.

But, none of those worked, so it must be.. you were actually here. In real life. D-did you get kidnapped? Oh my god you got kidnapped! You have to find a way out, it’s just like those wattpad fanfictions!- holy crap your-

*creeek*

“Your grace? ah, you’re awake. Is everything alright? You gave us quite the scare there. Hmmh.” an all too familiar face.

Staring in awe, realization settles in. Wait… WAIT. That's Pantalone, from genshin impact?? this can't be real! And did he just say “your grace” is he talking about you??

“W-wait? huh? Where am I? and, what do you mean “your grace” ” you can only imagine what you look like right now.

“You’re in the Zapolyarny Palace in Snezhnaya of course. and why else would I be calling you your grace? you are the creator of Teyvat. Though, if you prefer another name, I'll be happy to oblige. ” a soft smile rises to his face.

Gosh.. his voice is so euphonious. He walks closer to check your temperature, removing his glove and placing a hand on your temple.

“Seems like your fever is gone.” his smile deepens. Dimples.

And before you can say anything someone else walks in.

All and behold another harbinger, Tartaglia!

“You seem to be getting comfortable. You were sent back to check on their grace, not to hog their attention.” the ginger says.

Flabbergasted, jaw probably hitting the floor, you still cannot understand what in the world is going on.

Pantalone turns to him. “Their grace’s fever has gone down. I’m just doing my duty, no need to be jealous.” his oh so perfect banker smile is put back on, but it seems a little less genuine towards Tartaglia.

“Uhm.. excuse me? But I think you have the wrong person, I'm in no way a god, just a regular person, also, what is happening??!”

the two stare at you, then each other, and back at you again, and then stare at each other.

“Ah... It seems as if the fever has contracted memory loss. Alert the second about this Tartaglia. Other than that. I will help their grace meet the others. maybe that will run their memory right.”

Tartaglia opens his mouth, but whatever he has to say never comes out, curiosity of what he was planning to say plagues you. Though he walks out before the thought can get any further. He’s most likely going to Dottore as told by the ninth.

“Now your grace, I understand your confusion, but let's go to the others. and I'm sure Her Majesty the Tsaritsa would just be delighted to know you are awake.”

a small nod comes from you, excitement spreads through your body, oh my gosh oh my gosh!! You’re going to be meeting The Harbingers and The Cryo Archon!! Although, it seems you're unable to look at the bigger picture of what your story has in store for you.

WHERE THE SAGAU FANS GO????

repost from old blog!

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