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urfavoritewriter · 2 months

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Ghostface Meal, Part II

A gift for a very good friend of mine. <3

Content: M/Multiple Prey, Oral Vore, Digestion, Unwilling Prey, Muscular Pred, Ghostface, Male Observer, Belching

As Chris ventured back into the lively atmosphere of the party, his shirtless form with the bulging, full-of-Alex belly stood out amidst the sea of costumes and flashing lights. The Ghostface mask perched atop his head added an eerie allure to his imposing physique. He moved through the crowd with a predatory grace, his eyes scanning the room for his next target.

Nearby, a young man dressed as a cowboy caught Chris's attention. The cowboy's outfit consisted of a worn leather vest adorned with fringes, tight jeans, and a classic Stetson hat perched jauntily atop his head. His rugged appearance contrasted with the flamboyant costumes around him, drawing Chris's gaze like a moth to a flame.

With a confident stride, Chris closed the distance between them, his muscles rippling beneath the dim lighting of the party. The cowboy glanced up at him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, clearly taken aback by Chris's squirming belly.

Without a word, Chris reached out and grasped the cowboy's shoulder, his touch firm yet strangely inviting. The cowboy's eyes widened in surprise as Chris's strong grip guided him closer, their faces mere inches apart.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Chris's other hand shot out and wrapped around the cowboy's waist, pulling him even closer until their bodies were pressed tightly together. The cowboy's heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement as he found himself ensnared by Chris's powerful embrace.

“Hope you don’t mind joining the private after-party,” Chris said, “’Cause you’ve got a one-way ticket there.”

With a primal growl, Chris lunged forward and engulfed the cowboy's head in his gaping maw, his powerful jaws snapping shut with a resounding crunch, bitten as he’s being swallowed whole but not enough to end him right away.

As the cowboy's struggling form disappeared into the darkness of Chris's gullet, a deep, satisfied belch reverberated through the room, signaling the completion of yet another successful feast.

As the partygoers began to notice the peculiar sight of Chris, shirtless and bulging with an unmistakable gluttony, a wave of confusion rippled through the crowd. Some exchanged bewildered glances, while others gasped in shock at the spectacle unfolding before them.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Chris patted his distended belly, relishing in the weight of his recent indulgences. His appetite had been ignited, and he had no intention of stopping now, especially since Robin was waiting for him up there where he promised he’d be back.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, Chris began to move through the crowd once more, his strides purposeful and determined. He approached his next unsuspecting victim, a young woman dressed as a glamorous flapper from the roaring twenties. Her sequined dress shimmered in the dim light of the party, her laughter ringing out like music to Chris's ears, oblivious & thinking people were having rowdy fun.

With a deceptively charming smile, Chris sidled up to the flapper, his muscles bulging beneath the dim light of the party. Before she could react, Chris's strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to his towering frame. His grip was firm yet strangely comforting, drawing her into his embrace with a mix of fear and fascination.

With a playful wink, Chris leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered teasingly, "Looks like you're the next lucky contestant in my little game."

The flapper's eyes widened in disbelief as Chris's other hand shot out and clasped the back of her head, tilting it back at a precarious angle. In one swift motion, he opened his mouth wide, revealing row after row of gleaming teeth.

With a mixture of horror and fascination, the flapper watched as Chris's jaws descended upon her, swallowing her head whole in a single, merciless gulp.

Undeterred by the chaos unfolding around him, Chris continued to waddle through the crowd, his eyes scanning for his next victim. Man or woman, it mattered little to him.

As the chaos of the party escalated into mass panic, Chris found himself swept up in a whirlwind of movement and noise. People were running in every direction, their screams echoing off the walls of the house as they fled from the terrifying spectacle unfolding before them.

But amidst the chaos, Chris remained strangely calm, his focus unwavering as he continued his relentless pursuit of sustenance. With each swift movement, he snatched up another unsuspecting partygoer, his powerful arms enveloping them in a vice-like grip before they even had a chance to react.

As he swallowed down his latest victim, a surge of exhilaration coursed through Chris's veins, driving him onward in his quest for more. He moved with an almost supernatural agility, darting through the crowd with ease as he zeroed in on his next target.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, there was one person who remained firmly planted in Chris's mind: Robin, the shy and unassuming boy whom he had left behind in the room upstairs. With each passing moment, Chris's thoughts turned to the young man, his heart swelling with a strange mixture of protectiveness and desire.

As he swallowed down yet another hapless partygoer, Chris's mind drifted back to the image of Robin, sitting alone in the room, tears glistening in his eyes. The memory fueled his determination, driving him to continue his rampage through the party with renewed fervor.

With each swallow, Chris felt a strange sense of satisfaction wash over him, his belly swelling with the weight of his latest conquests. As he swallowed down another partygoer, Chris couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation at the thought of having the boy rub & worship his growing belly, putting all his weight to work.

As Chris sat on the floor, his muscular frame dominating the room, his shirtless torso gleaming under the party lights, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. His belly, now swollen to a massive size, bulged out between his powerful thighs, a testament to the feast he had indulged in moments ago. He absentmindedly rubbed the distended mound, feeling the weight of his conquests squirming within.

With a mischievous grin, Chris whistled for Robin, the shy and slender man he had left in the room earlier. As Robin descended the stairs, his eyes widened in shock and amazement at the sight before him. The room was filled with the aroma of food and the sound of muffled protests emanating from Chris's belly.

“U–Uh… Chris–”

"Well, don't just stand there cutie, this is all for you to enjoy~," Chris said casually, gesturing towards his swollen midsection with a nonchalant flick of his hand. Robin approached tentatively, his gaze fixed on the round mass before him. With a mixture of curiosity and excitement, he gingerly reached out to touch Chris's belly.

As his slender fingers made contact with the warm, taut skin, Robin felt a rush of exhilaration. “You’re so big ,” He began to explore every inch of the dome-like mound, his hands tracing the contours and feeling the occasional punch or kick from the prey trapped within. “I can feel them moving inside you!” Despite the chaotic scene unfolding around him, Robin couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for the powerful figure before him.

“Probably just letting you know they love being in there,” He said, as Robin continued to worship Chris's giant belly, his slender fingers exploring every curve and crevice, Chris casually reached up and pulled his Scream mask back down over his face, the eerie grin now concealing his features once more. The mask perched perfectly on his head as he leaned back against the wall, enjoying the sensation of Robin's touch against his distended abdomen.

With each gentle caress, Chris could feel the vibrations of the prey inside, their muffled protests only serving to fuel his amusement. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Robin, so small and delicate compared to the massive mound of flesh before him.

“You’re so warm, so big, and so squishy!” Suddenly, Robin leaned forward, his entire weight pressing down onto Chris's stomach with surprising force. The sudden pressure caused Chris to let out a deep, rumbling belch that echoed through the room, the sound reverberating like a beast's roar in the quiet of the night.

BuUuUuuRrRpp!

Chris laughed heartily at the sound, reveling in the sheer power of his own body. Bringing Robin in closer, Chris lifted his mask up slightly, revealing his lips beneath the eerie grin. He looked into Robin's eyes with a mixture of amusement and desire, his voice low and husky as he spoke.

"Well, aren't you a bold one," Chris said, his tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of admiration. "Feeling better already?“

“Very.” He said, his expression a stark contrast to when he was crying back in the bedroom; He had a smile on his face, enjoying himself as Chris’s huffed breath washed over his face.

As Robin leaned in closer, unsure of what to expect, Chris met him halfway, his lips crashing against Robin's in a fiery kiss. The intensity of the moment took both of them by surprise, their mouths moving together in a passionate dance fueled by desire and hunger.

"Mmm, that's it," Chris murmured against Robin's lips, his voice husky with desire. "You feel so good."

Chris's hands roamed eagerly over Robin's slender frame, exploring every curve and contour with an almost primal hunger. He could feel the heat radiating off Robin's body, the softness of his skin driving Chris wild with longing.

Meanwhile, Robin's fingers found their way to Chris's chiseled pecs, kneading them with a mixture of awe and reverence. Each touch sent shivers down Chris's spine, his body responding instinctively to Robin's every caress.

"You're so fucking hot," Robin whispered, his voice laced with admiration as his fingers trailed down Chris's chest.

Chris chuckled, the sound vibrating against Robin's lips. "You're not so bad yourself," he replied, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of lust.

As their kiss deepened, the air around them crackled with electricity, the intensity of their passion igniting like wildfire. Moans and gasps escaped their lips, mingling together in pleasure as they lost themselves in each other's embrace.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they surrendered to the heat of the moment, their bodies pressed together in a frenzy of desire. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, as Chris’s belly groaned loudly, churning around its occupants.

Chris broke the kiss, but instead of pulling away, he wrapped his strong arm around Robin, pulling him close in a tight embrace. Their bodies pressed together, the warmth of their closeness enveloping them both as they shared a moment of intimacy.

As they held each other, Chris let out a contented sigh, his eyes closing in bliss. "Let's sleep here while I digest," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "And then, how about we go on an official date? That's if you're fine with me carrying a belly tomorrow from what I got in front of me." He slapped his belly, prompting a muffled yelp of pain.

Robin's blush deepened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'd love that," he replied, his voice soft and earnest as he nuzzled against Chris's chest. "And I don't mind at all. Besides, it's just proof of how lucky I am to have such a strong, handsome man like you."

Chris chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Robin's forehead. "You're too sweet," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "Now, let's get some rest. We've got a big day ahead of us."

Together, they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, the promise of a new beginning lingering in the air. For Chris and Robin, the night was just the beginning of their journey together, filled with love, passion, and the occasional indulgence in their shared desires.

#male vore #digestion #male prey #female prey #mass vore #multiple prey #male pred #worship #belching #observer

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kckt88 · 6 months

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House of the Dragon Master List.

Aemond Targaryen x O.C -

Series -

Dynasty

Drowning Inside You

Take My Breath Away

Breath of Doubt

The Picture of Aemond Targaryen I

The Picture of Aemond Targaryen II

The Lost Dragon

One Shots -

Love Me Harder

Nepenthe

Cruel Intentions

Sytilībagon

Closer

Closer II

Aemond Targaryen x Y/N -

Don't Mess With My Mind

Moth to a Flame

Moth to a Flame Part 2

Kickstart My Heart I

Kickstart My Heart II

Let It Be Me I

Let It Be Me II

Alternate Universe -

Dynasty

Three Hearts, One Breath (Take My Breath Away)

Three Breaths, One Heart (Take My Breath Away)

Breath of Love (Take My Breath Away)

Don't Mess With My Mind Alternate Ending

NSFW Alphabets -

Dynasty NSFW Alphabet ft. Aemond.

Take My Breath Away What If! NSFW Alphabet ft. Aemond & Aegon with Vaeryna.

The Lost Dragon NSFW Alphabet.

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teyamsatan · 10 months

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☆ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ:

➺ cardigan saga - neteyam x human/avatar!reader

◩ illicit affairs ◪ the archer

➺ high infidelity - neteyam x metkayina!reader x aonung

➺ dancing with our hands tied - neteyam x human/avatar!reader

◩ cruel summer ◪ the 1

➺ monster in me - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

◘ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ/ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ:

➺ ghostin' - neteyam x avatar!reader x lo'ak

➺ the moment i knew - neteyam x human/avatar!reader | part of cardigan

➺ if this was a movie - neteyam x human/avatar!reader | part of cardigan

➺ moth to a flame - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ i'm all about you - neteyam x human!reader

✎ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ:

➺ interrupted by tuk - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ enemies with benefits - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ vibrating panties - neteyam x avatar!reader

➺ always in his arms - neteyam x human!reader

➺ olo'eyktan neteyam smut - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ all bets are off - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ jealousy, jealousy - neteyam x avatar!reader | part of cardigan

➺ discovering porn - neteyam x human!reader

➺ radio waves - neteyam x human!reader (ft. traumatised lo'ak)

➺ stepbrother's words - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ stepbrother's help - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ oral pleasures I - neteyam x avatar!reader | part of inexperienced series

➺ oral pleasures II - neteyam x avatar!reader | part of inexperienced series

➺ post-training massage - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ music video conundrums - neteyam x human!reader

➺ favourite position - neteyam x reader

➺ biggest kinks - neteyam x reader

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hauntedhokage · 6 months

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salvation

Priest!Nanami Kento/F!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: you’ve been avoiding the church, the weight of your unabsolved sins sits heavy on your shoulders, and you know that he knows. he could always see right through you.

warnings: MDNI, priest kink, blasphemy up the ass, references to sexual content (sex in a church and unprotected sex), unintended use of a rosary & prayer, manipulation, Nanami refers to reader as “lamb” and “little one”, this is not their first meeting, established…something, reader is some kind of devout to Nanami and not necessarily to the religion itself at this point,

note: this is heavily inspired by my experience in church (read: very catholic), but I was also trying to lean more into my own vision of “cult-religion” while not explicitly naming any particular religion that reader and Nanami are failing at practicing. Technically this is act iii but idk if I’ll write the acts i & ii that are in mind.

AO3 | Nanami Masterlist | All Masterlists | Ko-fi |

You’d been avoiding the church.

Always conveniently scheduled to work during the different scheduled mass times, and the one time you hadn’t been working you’d faked sick. Faking sick again wasn’t an option, as you were still working through the various meals that were brought your way to help you feel better and didn’t need any additional tupperware to wash and return to your neighbors. Your boss hadn’t scheduled you during Mass in a while, stating that he knew how much going meant to you and now that business was a bit slower he could afford to give you that time back. Everyone wanted you back in that church, sharing the house of worship and the teachings being preached because they all felt you needed it.

What it provided, you didn’t know. It used to feel natural to be there, enlightening even. Confessional once lifted the weight of your transgressions and had you feeling lighter with the knowledge that your path had been redirected. The reassurance that the gates of heaven had not yet been shut to you, the feeling of light that came when you were told that you were still part of His flock, safe from the fiery darkness of hell - nothing topped that feeling.

But it wasn’t that you were avoiding the church.

You were hiding from Father Kento.

He knew you better than anybody else did at this point, and you hadn’t known him long. It had been maybe six months since he’d come to replace the older priest who had passed away, and how quickly he’d drawn you in - like a moth to his flame and you were trying to avoid getting burnt. He was a priest, after all, even if everything you knew about him went against your understanding of what priests actually did. But maybe that was what you liked about him? Father Kento to you was a completely different man than he was to anybody else, you knew him better because you’d been blessed with the opportunity to see more of him. He’d taken “priestly liberties” to see to your salvation, took special care of you as his most precious lamb, and this was how you repaid him and his kindness? Avoiding he who had given so much to you?

“You look troubled, little lamb.”

And there he was. Always there when you seemed to be thinking about him the most, only in the last few weeks you’d turned away when you saw him at the market or on your way to or from work. Today, though, there is no avoiding him for he’s standing right in front of you. A gentle hand on your elbow (to steady you, would be his cover for a touch so intimate), eyes looking right through you it seemed.

“Good evening, Father,” you greet, smile soft yet still uncertain as you meet that piercing gaze. “How are you?”

“I’ve been worried about you, but I’m well.” There it was, so quickly to the point yet still managing to be indirect given the public setting that was the middle of the sidewalk. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Busy, then-”

“Then you weren’t well, yes?”

“That’s where I need to confess.” Your admission earns a quirked brow, the ghost of a smile gracing his features under the streetlight as he gives your arm a squeeze.

“Would you like to come with me to the church? Somewhere private where we can talk and hopefully provide some solace to that troubled mind.”

Another act of familiarity, this time his thumb gently running up from the bridge of your nose and between your eyes to smooth out your furrowed brow. A gentle pat to the top of your head follows when you nod, and that has him smiling as he gives a nod of his own before turning to lead you back towards the church. During the walk you tell him about your day, how work was and sharing a fun fact you’d learned that day. In turn he tells you what he can about his, out of interest to respect the private lives of others in the parish. It’s natural, nobody would assume any less than holy intentions to see you being guided down the sidewalk by Father Kento.

But as soon as you’re inside the walls of the church, the loud click ringing through your ears signaling that you were alone with him and would see no intrusion, you feel almost like a lamb being presented for sacrifice.

He follows you to where you usually sat shen it was just the two of you in the large building, on the steps in front of the pews, beneath the stained glass but out of its reach when the light shone through at most hours of the day. He does what he always did, dimming the lights before lighting the candles that would provide more intimate lighting for the conversations yet to come.

Father Kento always made you feel special.

“Where’ve you been, little one? I miss seeing you front and center at mass.”

That was where you were nervous. To tell him what was on your mind, as well as the things that you’d been doing in lieu of attending church and confession, wasn’t going to be easy. He’d be disappointed, and you think for a moment that maybe that’s what you were hiding from. Not Father Kento himself, but the disappointed look in his eyes when you confessed to him that you failed to resist temptation - failed to come to him for protection from that temptation.

But you tell him anyway, sparing no detail as you know the only way to be absolved of your sins was to confess them. He does an excellent job of keeping his face neutral, hands idly turning his rosary as he listens, and that helps you to ensure that you maintain that honesty. You knew it would hurt him to hear that you’d let another man touch you, that you were hiding from his disappointment, that you were afraid of being a distraction from his work. By the time you’re done your own hands are in his, wrapped in his rosary which eased their shakiness and brought a great deal of comfort.

“I’m sorry that you felt that you couldn’t find sanctuary here,” he murmurs, carefully pressing his forehead to yours. “You should know that I would never judge, and am always here to help you cleanse your sins.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper, looking down at your joined hands. The crystal beads don’t feel as heavy on your skin as they had when he’d started to bring them around your skin, which helps considerably but doesn’t completely relieve you. “I’m sorry, Father, sorry that my faith in you became so weak.”

“God forgave you as soon as you entered his House.”

“But have you forgiven me, Father?” The question brings him pause, and you know why it would. In his eyes, God’s forgiveness should be most important to you, and if God can forgive why would you need to hear anything else? He liked to tease that you were constantly testing him, but this wasn’t a test. This was how you truly felt, and you feared his reaction but you still finish your thought to improve his understanding of your situation. “God’s love means nothing if I don’t have yours.”

“My love for you has not waned in your absence. You are forgiven for your transgressions, my lamb, and I would like to reassure you in that forgiveness.”

You’re kissing him before you can properly process the implication of his words, knowing that what you needed was the specific brand of salvation that only came from Father Kento’s touch. His hands pull from yours, leaving the rosary to hang from your hands as his come to hold your cheeks. Father Kento’s kiss was as he was; calculated and warm, knowing exactly what he needed to do or how he needed to move to maximize your experience in his arms.

“Please do not drop my rosary, sweet lamb,” he mumbles, lips moving to your neck while his hands work to position you on his lap. “It’s key to your salvation this evening.”

Your attempt at assurance that you’d never drop his rosary - or anything of his, really - is cut off by a whine when sharp teeth dig into your shoulder. A signal to God, he’d said once, to let him know that you’d bled for your faith and did so willingly. You have to separate your hands so he can pull your shirt over your head, and he pulls the cross that now dangles against your forearm into his mouth as he looks up at you through his lashes. Perhaps it's a reminder to be careful, a reminder of where your faith should lie, but you take it as an invitation and press your mouth to his in an open kiss around the quickly warming metal.

“I have to properly present you to God, little lamb. Ensure that he can properly see you embrace your salvation.” And you know exactly what he means as you finally pull yourself from him, letting the spit slick rosary fall against your arm once more before you stand on shaky legs. You needed to bare yourself before God and the Father, present yourself at the altar to accept your salvation. Akin to taking the sacrament, but this brand of salvation was reserved specifically for you - for Father Kento’s favorite little lamb.

There's a symbolism here that you can’t miss as he lifts you onto the altar - the focal point of the church beneath the intricate stained glass windows depicting images of peace and holiness.

The lamb presented for sacrifice as she’s laid atop the altar, but there’s no knife in his hand. Even if there was, you would only feel reverence for the man standing before you - the man you trusted with your life. You were his little lamb, his favorite within the flock to be used as an example but never to be harmed. If you were ever sacrificed; you’d be reincarnated to once again be his favorite, he’d said it himself that in every instance of your shared existence that he knew he would always find you. The shepherd tends to the flock, always, and a lost lamb would find her way home to the shepherd who loved her so dearly.

“Are you ready to embrace salvation?”

“Please, Father.” Your hand searches for him, something that you can hold onto when you feel his tip slide through your folds. His hand catches yours, the tight grip pressing the rosary beads into the tender flesh of your palm to the point where you know you’ll see indentations from the intricate bead and metalwork decorating your skin. Another reminder of your repentance to join the soft bruises on your hips, markings on your shoulder, and the remnants of Father Kento’s holy essence that would be left inside you once he’d finished.

You were far from pure, but so was he. Figuring out where he lost any hope of the salvation he preached would take months of carefully placed questions, but you knew when you’d lost your own. He was unassuming, a kind priest who followed the path lit by God’s light, but at the same time all consuming as he ravaged you from the inside out. Your road to hell had not been paved with good intentions, as he’d intended on dragging you down with him on his own road to damnation.

But Hell didn’t seem so bad to you if it would be his, too.

Despite it all, you’d follow him anywhere, if he asked you to go. It wasn’t any god that you prayed to when referring to a Father in your prayers, for Kento was the only Father you prayed to. Your heavenly father, and you know that you will not stray far from his side again.

You knew better than to hurt yourself like that again.

#kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami imagine #kento nanami smut #jjk smut #priest!nanami #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento imagine #nanami kento smut #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut

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pascalpvnk · 25 days

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march fic recs list

hello beautiful people! i’m sorry i’ve been absent recently, there’s been a lot going on behind the scenes and i haven’t had much time to be here :’) regardless, i hope everyone is well and enjoy the lineup we have for this month. fan art is now a part of the list and hopefully will expand in the months to come. thank you all for sharing your work!! and a very special happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend, pedro pascal xx (divider by @saradika-graphics)

this is also my contribution to @the-blind-assassin-12’s march fic madness 2024!! :)

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

heed all warnings according to each fic. if there's something on here that isn't your cup of tea and you don't want to read it, then scroll past. thank you!

fic rec masterlist // main masterlist // most recent fic

a * denotes smut (18+ MDNI!!)

drabbles

a little joel drabble* - @suzdin (pre/no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader) desperate old man (affectionate)* @bubble-tea-blossom (joel miller x younger!afab!reader) joel interrupting you while you're touching yourself* - @kiwisbell (joel miller x f!reader)

oneshots

Joel Miller

between two lungs* - @ozarkthedog (j.m. x afab reader x tess) amateur* - @ezrasbirdie (j.m. x f!reader) sweet days of summer* - @ozarkthedog (no-outbreak!j.m. x f!reader) i'm starving, darlin'* - @me-and-your-husband (j.m. x f!reader) wildflower and barely* - @yellowharrington (j.m. x f!afab!reader) rise - @sp00kymulderr (joel miller x afab!reader) lunch box* - @polaroidpascal (j.m. x f!reader) we shouldn't* - @alwaysmicado (fwb!j.m. x f!reader) bite my tongue* - @cherubispunk (j.m. x afab!reader) knuckles deep* - @ozarkthedog (j.m. x afab!reader) wet nights* - @shellshocklove (bfd!j.m. x f!reader)

Frankie Morales

object of my affection* - @mrsmando (bbf!f.m. x f!reader) imbued* - @morallyinept (f.m. x f!reader) dial drunk* - @schnarfer (young!f.m. x f!reader)

Javier Peña

some fools fool themselves* - @freelancearsonist (j.p. x f!reader) whatever my wife wants* - @javierpena-inatacvest (husband!j.p. x wife!reader)

Lucien Flores

this high of you & me - @kedsandtubesocks (l.f. x f!reader) like a moth to a flame - @ozarkthedog (l.f. x f!reader) mutual* - @luxurychristmaspudding (l.f. x f!reader) i was fixed on your hand of gold* - @freelancearsonist (l.f. x afab!reader)

Din Djarin

solace* - @endlessthxxghts (d.d. x afab!reader)

Arthur Morgan

some sweet ending* - @morning-star-joy (a.m. x f!reader) arthur teaches you how to ride him* - @angelltheninth (a.m. x f!reader)

series

declined* [part I*] [part II*] [part III*] - @alltheirdamn (mechanic!joel miller x afab!reader) like it's the last time* [part I*] [part II*] - @aurorawritestoescape (j.m. x afab!reader) the rite of movement* [drabble*] - @tightjeansjavi (pornstar!husband joel miller x f!pornstar!reader)

art

hypnosis - @immarocketman (javier peña) mando monday! - @knopes-waffles (din djarin)

#pascalpvnk fic recs #pascalpvnk art display #fic recs #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #frankie morales #javier peña #lucien flores #din djarin #arthur morgan

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infinitewarden · 3 months

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Just want to address something really quick: I've been seeing a weird increase in people who think Guardians age.

This is. Factually not the case and is indeed a very important plot point of Zavala's past.

Some other notable lore entries that talk imply it or outright state it:

A small band of humans emerge from the woods at Osiris's flank. Some carry rust-laden firearms. The one who leads them jaunts forward. "Stand up, old man." The words are slung over his shoulder, wet and heavy. "No." (5: Moths to Flame Part II)

Saladin Circa Dark Ages vs. Saladin at Present

Osiris (and Ikora!) Early City Era (~200 years ago) Vs. Osiris at Present

And, if you haven't set aside time to rewatch Zavala's story then there's this: He has remained the same through hundreds of generations.

It's not "headcanon" if you think otherwise it is directly in opposition to why guardians are the way they are and how they function. Genuinely I have no idea where this idea of Guardians aging came from but it completely defeats the purpose of many tragedies and driving forces Guardians face because of their unaging immortality.

#dude what the hell is happening this is basic guardian lore 101 #lore.exe #destiny lore #destiny the game #destiny 2 #lord saladin #osiris #zavala

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peonysgreenhouse · 26 days

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-`♡´- kisses + the 13 flame-chasers

summary: what it says on the tin!

tags: flame-chasers x gn!reader, griseo's is platonic of course, fluff, lots of kissies.

i. kevin kaslana

kevin’s last try at love had left him unable to touch anything living, his body now colder than ice. he craves the contact he once was able to give and receive freely, but to sacrifice his own body in pursuit of the MOTH’s goals was something he was more than willing to do. but even the icy-hearted first flame chaser has his moments of weakness. in those moments he’ll grab your tie, or the end of your skirt and bring it up to his lips, inhaling the scent he was never close enough to know, and wonder how warm your skin felt underneath.

ii. elysia

elysia adores everything about you, and she wants you to know how much you are loved every moment she is with you. she places kisses to any place she can reach, but more than that she loves watching your reactions. so human, so beautiful. it’s not rare to end up with her rosy gloss all over you.

iii. aponia

aponia likes listening to you breathe. underneath a tree in the tall grass, your head in her lap. it’s one of the few times she feels she can live in the present. the future is the farthest thing from her mind as she leans down and places a kiss to your forehead, telling you to go to sleep. she doesn’t command you to do it so, but with her soft humming, you soon drift off. aponia kisses your eyelids, then, and prays for your dreams to be pleasant.

iv. eden

her lips taste of the finest wine; how could you not get intoxicated after kissing her? the high of eden’s performance doesn’t wear off for hours, and she loves to perch you up on her vanity and kiss you until she’s satisfied… and eden is hard to satiate. out of all the endless riches she has amassed, you are her favorite treasure of all.

v. vill-v

the great magician loves to woo you with her performances. look down into their hat and when you see nothing inside, she’ll tilt your chin up and give you a quick peck.

the expert likes to ramble off her ideas for projects — you’re the only one allowed in their lab. it’s not often they get excited about things, but with you there she finds that old passion for inventing return in spades. when you aren’t looking, she’ll place a lingering kiss to your temple, whispering out her thanks.

vill-v loves you wholly, with every part of themself.

vi. kalpas

you’re one of the few who has gotten to see under kalpas’s mask. his skin is fair, sunken pale eyes tired and angry. it’s the first time he lets you see underneath that you finally get to kiss him. his teeth are bared, and he threatens to kill you for standing so close. but when your lips touch his own, all feigned malice melts away, and he pulls you into him hard.

vii. su

his kisses are featherlight, as soft as a summer breeze. as busy as he is with his work, he will always find pockets of time to spend with you. even if it’s just as small as kissing your cheek before he leaves for work, he will remember your loving eyes, the way the morning light made your skin glow, your small smile… yes, this is one memory that will follow him forevermore.

viii. SAKURA

SAKURA always looks for you after battles. she is covered in bruises and cuts that will leave ugly scars later, but she needs to know you’re okay; that the one person left that she loves is still there. she ushers you someplace quiet and hums, a familiar song that she once sang to RIN and patches you up. you tell her of an old superstition that you once heard, and she takes it to heart. SAKURA doesn’t let you go until she’s placed her lips against every future scar, promising you that next time, she’ll keep you safe.

ix. kosma

try as he might, he will never be able to figure out what you’re thinking. when you reassure him that you like him, he wonders if you mean in a way that he can sit close to you. it’s easier show him what’s on your mind, tilt his chin up and plant a sweet kiss to his lips. kosma will think about your touch for a long time, one hand touching his lips and the other balled into his tunic. he hopes you’ll kiss him again and again.

x. mobius

mobius tastes sickeningly sweet, you sometimes wonder if her lipstick is laced with poison. when mobius kisses you, it is needy, her lips moving hard and fast against your own, pressing you against her lab table. when she pulls back, you’re seeing stars, and she grins at you like a predator. you can’t help but think if this is where you die, it wouldn’t be so bad.

xi. griseo

mama aponia tells griseo that kisses are reserved for people she loves. and so she gives mama aponia a kiss on the cheek before she goes to look for inspiration. today, you are her muse, and you sit for hours as she paints every color that she sees in you; each one unique to you. once you’re done, she tugs your sleeve and tells you to come look. you tell her it’s beautiful, and she kisses you on the cheeks as thanks.

xii. fu hua

hua fights with her fists, and so the bruises left on her knuckles are forever rosy, never allowed to fully heal. when she spars with you, she never goes easy, and you’re face down in the dirt after only one round. she notices the deep purple of fresh bruises on your hands, and places a kiss to each one, praising you for trying so hard.

xiii. pardofelis

pardo loves all things shiny, but she’s found she doesn’t mind being paid in kisses from time to time. she purrs as you take her cheeks into your hands, kissing her all over the face. felis can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles, falling forward into your lap and nuzzling into your neck.

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melis-writes · 7 months

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Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 42 – Matrimony.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 41 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You’re a Corleone woman now, after all." / “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

You married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949, binding the allyship of your two families together but sealing your matrimony with love, bliss and trust. Falling in love, compatibility, love languages and a change in your lifestyle met you in an instant, and being Mrs. Michael Corleone altered your life forever. You can still remember how you fell for him and every bit of affection and intimacy shared from the beginning. You remember; you remember it all, and as you look into the past to compare it to your present and expect for your future, you realize nothing remains changed.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of virginity/loss of virginity, nudity, sexual themes & depictions, heavy touching & kissing, fingering, mentions of pregnancy & planning for children, sex.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The first in-between chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II is finally here!! 😫🙏🏻 I'm sooo sorry for such a delay in posting this chapter, but life has been extremely hectic and busy. 😭 The Vichael girlies are going to adore this chapter is all I'm going to say! We delve into Victoria and Michael's marriage from the very beginning! 🤭❤️‍🔥 This is filled with romance, fluff and domestic wholesomeness. How Victoria and Michael fell in love to how their lives changed as husband and wife and more is all included. I wanted this to be very romantic and sensual before we dive back into the action of current day Moth to Flame! 😳

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

Bouquets of pink and white roses, white silk, lilac adornments, angel food cake, the lace finishing over your wedding gown, and the taste of Michael’s lips over yours; you married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949.

Planning for your wedding was one of the few and only times in your life when you felt you had a million things going through your mind at once.

After weeks of careful planning, the hardest part—the wedding itself—came in bliss and resonated perfectly with everything you had in mind for your perfect wedding day.

The colors you chose for your wedding ranged from an equal hint of décor in baby pink, lilac, and beige, whereas peonies, lilacs, and dahlias were your flowers of choice.

Silk tablecloth, handcrafted Italian furniture imported from Sicily, seven-tier angel food cake, seven varieties of cannoli from pistachio to limoncello, over a hundred bottles of wine—Grilo, Inzolia and Grecanico just to name a few—aged at least ten years, French champagne, little pastries of sorbets and mini cheesecakes served throughout and freshly squeezed juice from the fruit from the Corleone garden itself were just some of the highlights of your wedding day.

Even your wedding gown itself had been custom designed and tailored with the finest Italian silks and fabrics, following a lengthy session of perfecting your hair, makeup, and manicure with your mother, Mama Corleone, Connie, and Sandra down to rehearing how you would walk down the aisle to which sets of jewelry with diamonds and pearls suited you best.

Everything was planned and executed to perfection—to say the least. Scarcely were there moments throughout the planning period where the wedding wasn’t mentioned in one way or another; it was the only topic on your mind for days to come.

Consummation of your marriage was expected next from all through tradition and customs, but it wasn’t a concept you and Michael personally believed in.

Although you were a virgin before you met Michael, he most certainly was not. After his brief marriage with Apollonia, the concept of no intimacy until marriage let alone time spent together or some form of physical affection before marriage was seen and strictly enforced as heavily taboo in Sicily only reminded him of how backward he believed the concept to be, as did you.

Of course, you and Michael were both anticipating and thinking about the intimacy you’d share with one another after your wedding celebration, but not immediately after. That would be eagerly waiting for the both of you at the end of the night.

With the wedding cake having been cut, final drinks served and last dances shared, both of your families collected together all of the bridal gifts, thanked and said goodbyes to every guest they could get to while the wedding staff began to clean up.

Michael and you stood for more photographs by and with guests, thanking them for attending as well before you both made off with security to the vehicle that would take you to your first estate.

You’d both arrive at your new estate by the time security did a full sweep and search of the Corleone manor and all festivities had officially come to an end.

Before you and Michael would settle down for the remainder of the day after the wedding, you both went to meet with your families and new in-laws.

Tomorrow morning there’d be the wedding reception to look forward to after all, but there was more than enough for both you and Michael to think about and do before then.

Upon stepping out of your chauffeur’s vehicle at your new estate’s grounds, the first thing your eyes found were those of your bodyguards surrounding your new estate.

Noting the heavy yet inconspicuous security around, it was only a split second longer before you blinked and a warm smile crossed over your lips in reaction to Michael standing by your side; his hand laced with yours as you both began to make your way inside the estate.

Just a few feet from the front door you could already hear the cheerful voices and banter of your parents and in-laws in the foyer; you couldn’t help but feel your exhilarated mood amplify with excitement once more.

“Victoria! Michael! Sweetheart!” Your mother beamed, extending her arms out as she skipped over to the both of you.

Hugged, congratulated a dozen more times, and kissed by your parents and new-in-laws, happy tears are shed once again for you and Michael as a newlywed couple.

“Promettimi che mi chiamerai se ti serve qualcosa!” (Promise me you'll call if you need anything!) Carmela gently squeezed your shoulder after pulling away from a hug, smiling at you.

“Home sweet home,” your mother cooed, bewildered by the grandiose luxury your new estate has to offer just by standing in the foyer alone. “How wonderful.”

“We’re looking forward to that wedding reception,” your father grinned, redirecting his gaze to Michael. “It’ll be an honor to dine in the newlyweds’ home.”

“It’s an honor to host,” Michael agreed, giving a small, quick smile. “I look forward to it, Don Ferrari.”

“Mm,” Vito nodded, approaching both you and Michael. “And the bridal gifts… I had them arranged to be placed in your guest room. Humble gifts as they may be from our family friends, but they’re close to overflowing.”

“A problem I’d actually like to deal with,” you giggled back. “Thank you, father.”

Naturally, the gifts you received from attending friends, family, and guests aren’t exclusive to gifts newlyweds would benefit from, but a wide variety of items ranging from cash bills to jewelry almost as if the givers were trying to appease you and Michael directly.

Without even having to look inside all of the bridal purses and open each individual gift, you already assumed to yourself there are thousands of dollars worth of gifts there alone waiting for you and Michael that may very well take days to completely open.

Your families deliberately didn’t stay for long to give you and Michael as much privacy as possible today, and you and Michael were more than happy to see them out with waves and smiles before settling down for the rest of the day.

“It’s not over for them,” Michael commented by the gates of the estate, loosening his tie.

“No, it isn’t,” you let out a light laugh, smoothening down your wedding gown. “Not until after the wedding reception, at least.”

Michael chuckled—a rare first time he’s in a somewhat lighthearted mood for the entirety of the day. “Do you need anything, darling?”

“No,” you blushed, gesturing down to your dress. “Only to get this lovely gown off of me in one piece and my makeup at last.”

Just a split second later, you both heard a sharp whistle come towards the gates of the estate which prompted you and Michael’s attention immediately.

“Hey, Mikey!” Sonny hollered from the gates, leaning against his car and waving at both of you. “No invitations for Tom, Fredo, and I to see the new place, eh? Come on down!”

“I’ll be right with you,” Michael glanced back at you.

You nodded understandingly, relieved you’ll at least get the time to quickly undress and take off your makeup before finally getting to spend some time alone with Michael, and you’re more than happy to have Michael bond with his brothers before retiring for the rest of the day with you too.

The endless amounts of gifts and stuffed bridal purses crossed your mind once more as you entered the estate, imagining you and Michael would more than likely have to get Tom to secure any precious assets or cash bills while the other items remain secure.

You carefully slipped out of your wedding gown and let the lacy, tulle fabric pool at your feet as you grabbed a white, silk nightgown to step into; careful not to let any of your makeup smear against the fabric.

You’re not one to wear a full face of makeup on any regular day, but outings, special events, and evenings—especially your wedding—remain exceptions each time you enjoyed getting dolled up, but your daily beauty routine only consisted of your normal skincare steps, light eye makeup, a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

Upon Michael’s return inside the estate and to the bedroom to undress and unwind, it was his first time gazing upon your face without any makeup as you cautiously stored your nightgown away in an empty closet.

You hadn’t even noticed Michael’s eyes on you at first but picked up on his presence immediately; right then and there, Michael had found himself admiring your beauty and looks, stunned by your natural appearance.

“More congratulations?” You smiled shyly, turning around to face your new husband.

“Something like that,” Michael answered, tossing his tie onto the edge of the bed. “Nothing we both haven’t heard enough of.”

You held back your laughter, “then I hope you don’t mind I retired my glamor for the night already.”

“Not at all,” a ghost of a smile crossed Michael’s lips as he slowly began to approach you. “I’m sure the bridal gifts have nothing but your name on them, after all. I don’t think I need to go and see for myself.”

“Oh, please,” you felt a blush stinging your cheeks as you gazed up at Michael.

“You look beautiful,” Michael murmured, tilting your chin up to face him. “You know that?”

Your skin gave a healthy glow under the evening light as Michael admired every inch of you from the shape of your cheekbones to the color of your eyes, the curve of your lips, and your body language towards him filled with desire.

You expected then and there for Michael to lean in and kiss you, and he did, but gently upon your forehead as he let his warm lips linger over your skin.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and embraced your husband, taking in the scent of his heavenly cologne as your heart began to race in your chest against his.

“You should expect all of this, you know,” Michael spoke to you in an ushered voice. “You’re a Corleone woman now, after all. Those gifts want nothing more than to appease and impress you, I’ll make sure of it myself.”

Michael’s intention is to spoil you to no avail and not only with material gifts but your every request; the luxurious lifestyle you can expect to live with him as Michael’s wife and the future mother of his children holds you on a separate pedestal next to being Don Ferarri’s wife, and Michael will continue to keep it that way.

The very gifts with your name engraved upon them awaiting you consisted of everything from cosmetics, luxurious perfumes, oils, and creams, full sets of dazzling jewelry set with diamonds and precious stones, congratulatory letters, towel sets followed by pacifiers, bibs, baby bottles, and cloth diapers that made you blush as you unwrapped them—knowing all would be expecting the news of your first pregnancy next.

An amused look crossed Michael’s eye as he wrapped his arms around you seeing you open the final present for today a set of two pacifiers, he saw a look of excitement over your own expression but also blush spreading over your cheeks as the two of you made eye contact once again, knowing the rest of the night began to the both of you.

The first home you and Michael owned together and settled in was a grand estate in Long Island but outside of the Corleone mall unlike Connie and Carlo’s home and that of Sonny and Sandra’s that were inside the gated family community.

Still, your new home was not far from Michael’s family or yours, and you could make the commute in twenty minutes.

The plot of land in which your new estate would be built was purchased immediately on the day of your engagement ceremony with construction where your father and Vito had given the green light for construction to begin the day of.

Normally for the size of your estate, it would have taken a good construction crew six months with daily work, but the home was completely finished in just one. Bringing in extra of the best workers and paying a premium always worked well in the end.

Your grand estate stood at just slightly over five thousand square feet with state-of-the-art architecture, taking inspiration from Modern American design to Italian fixtures and marble imported from Rome.

Your estate was two stories, finished with an attic consisting of a master bedroom with a walk-in closet designed to be almost the size of a small bedroom for you and Michael, a study that was half a private library, two guest rooms downstairs, a nursery upstairs, a wine room in the basement, full front and back yard, three other extra bedrooms, an office for Michael and four bathrooms.

A mid-sized swimming pool was built in the backyard where your home’s carefully curated and trimmed garden surrounded the sides and fences protected your family’s privacy so one could neither look into the estate grounds nor out of it.

Twenty-four-hour surveillance was always to be expected with varying bodyguards and a careful selection of specific windows—such as the ones in Michael’s office—were selected and built to be soundproof.

Your bathtub had 24k gold claw-finished, quartz countertops as well as in the kitchen, marble floors, a foyer in the front of the estate fit with a French handcrafted chandelier, a private exit to the gardens and plenty of storage with a full laundry room at the end of the hallway downstairs.

Crown fixtures adorned the kitchen and a wide spiral staircase decorated with a blood-red carpet led upstairs to where one of two hidden emergency exits only you and Michael knew how to activate could be found.

The price of your home came to a grand total of $250,000 and was exactly where you and Michael wanted to be; exactly where the two of you planned to start your family and raise your children.

Michael and you had both grown up in Long Island; meaning nothing short of symbolic with the feel of home settling into your first house in New York together.

You and Michael only had a brief discussion about where your first home could be since the two of you came to an agreement so quickly to choose Long Island to stay in.

At the time, thoughts of buying another home elsewhere or even moving in the future were not on your mind although Michael had begun to think of Nevada and a villa in Sicily almost immediately on; the latter being a familiar and mutually agreed upon idea to you.

Of course, both you and Michael’s family knew just as well as the both of you why you didn’t have a honeymoon after your wedding, and there were no questions asked or teasing to be made.

Going on a honeymoon with Michael after your wedding was in your mind just as much as your wedding was, but the same could not be said for Michael who was much too preoccupied with the danger and threat of another family war, especially with hostility coming from the Ricci family.

Going outside of New York—let alone going to Sicily—would paint a clear, red target over both your and Michael’s backs and especially create vulnerability within the Corleone family considering Vito was semi-retired at the time.

It didn’t matter if you and Michael decided to visit Rome, Venice, or anywhere else in Italy just for the sake of visiting home but staying away from Sicily; the mafia families including the Ricci’s still had power stretching there legitimately.

Naturally, both you and Michael yearned to take a true honeymoon trip to Sicily and Sicily only. Even with the rest of the world as a choice to visit, you would have rather continued to postpone your honeymoon until you could safely visit Sicily again without having to worry about anything but how to spend quality time with your husband.

You’d very well have your honeymoon with Michael a little after your first anniversary together, somewhat defeating the purpose of a true honeymoon but with the threat of your lives and your family on the line, it was all very worth it with a legitimate reason to delay.

In Michael’s second marriage now come hell or high water he would never risk a slight chance of you being anywhere where there’s a notion of danger, even if you begged him to.

“Well,” you bit your lip, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m a little disappointed, but I understand.”

“I know, darling,” Michael raised his water glass to his lips, taking a sip. “I feel no different than you do.”

You brushed your fingers against the fabric of the window’s curtains and glanced over to Michael again. “They’ll know, won’t they?”

Michael’s eyes met with yours almost instantly; his expression appeared grim knowing you referred to the Ricci family, but with the Barzinis and Tattaglias to worry about as well.

“As they do,” Michael replied and set his glass down. “Does it bother you?”

“Not exactly,” you shook your head and faced the window—blushing as you felt Michael’s presence approach you from behind. “But it’s been on my mind again and again these past few weeks. I can’t shake it off.”

“And on mine,” Michael lovingly embraced you from behind and lightly pressed his chest against your back. “As much as I would like to degrade them to such, they’re not animal enough to disgrace a wedding, even without an invite.”

“They should know better,” you murmured under your breath.

“And they more than likely do,” Michael nodded and moved his hands down to your hips to tenderly caress them. “None of those men deserve further justifications, but above all, they’re curious about you, and just who you are.”

You placed your hands over Michael’s and gave them a soft squeeze as you remained quiet.

“If it’s about safety—” Michael began.

“I feel safe with you,” you told him as you turned around.

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours as he gave you a small nod; you swore to yourself for a moment that you could see a glimmer of a brief smile over his plush lips.

“I do,” you continued, “always. And as you can guess…” You blushed sheepishly, “I was thinking about our honeymoon too, and we can’t even go.”

“We will soon enough,” Michael rubbed up and down your arms gingerly. “When we are able to and when we can. You know it’s not something I want to put aside to forget or neglect.”

“I know, baby,” you smiled back shyly. “I believe you.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Michael lowered his tone of voice and pressed a warm kiss over your forehead. “I promise I will. None of what our family is going through now will last. I personally guarantee it,” as Michael moved back from the kiss, he tilted your chin up to gaze directly into his eyes. “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

Blushing furiously and feeling a wave of butterflies rush to the pit of your stomach, you nodded at Michael before leaning up to give his lips a sweet kiss.

“I’ll wait until you say we can go,” you whispered against his lips as you wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders.

“Until then,” Michael murmured and closed off the distance between both of your bodies, ensnaring you in a deep kiss once more.

Michael’s changed lifestyle to a mafioso and your continued one as a mafiosa would never change. You both married one another knowing what your lives are and would continue to be, but also remaining unaltered.

You’re a lawyer, after all, and a skilled prosecutor with a name made for herself—reputation and all—in New York. Your career is more than something you see to corrupt and use for your “family business”, but is also a passion; something you want to continue doing until you feel ready to retire.

Michael was always impressed as to how you were able to find a passionate career that also benefited both sides of the family business.

Through being a lawyer, you also bonded well with Tom and had another fellow lawyer as a brother-in-law to bond with.

Regardless of whether you and Michael choose to have one child a fear down the line or four back to back, Michael has no intention of interfering in your career or keeping you from it; the same can be said for any of your other passions and hobbies.

You already know your maternity leave from work and raising an infant will take priority in your life which will result in a break from work, but you’ve accepted it and will make it happen.

Perhaps if you weren’t a mafiosa yourself from a powerful crime family, you would have fit the bill as a mafioso’s housewife better but Michael recognizes your true talents and abilities just as well as you know yourself.

Now married, you attend trials and continue with your cases at most three times a week. After all, you’ve always been careful in choosing which cases to get involved in while maintaining a flexible schedule for yourself.

You built a reputation with your prowess this far without Michael and his family’s influence, which begs the question of what Michael’s lifestyle has become after marrying you.

Michael is always working, even when he’s not. More than ever, Michael spends time with his father and brothers. Even when Michael is alone in his own office, he’s talking over the phone to his men or family and constantly keeping himself preoccupied until he’s with you.

Michael’s unwavering dedication to the family business, his loyalty, and his work ethic don’t bother you. As a matter of fact, it’s everything you expected from Michael and saw coming before you married him.

What you love about Michael’s work with the family business is that he can separate it and he will separate it very well from his personal life.

Michael does not mention anything related to his work when he’s with you regardless of how casual the circumstances or if your own curiosity arises since your family is also almost always involved.

You know then and only in those scenarios would you ask Michael a question if you had one and your family could not answer; you know your boundaries and where the line remains when asking Michael about his work.

To Michael, any mention of what he does and what he is outside of work is nothing but severely unpleasant and he would rather avoid it altogether; something you respect and agree with.

At dinner one evening, you saw Michael’s tension settled within him as he ate—sitting across from you in silence.

Michael sighed quietly and took a sip of his red wine before his eyes met yours; seeing curiosity spark in your expression.

“Ready to settle down, baby?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Something like that,” Michael nodded, continuing to eat his risotto.

“Everything alright with your father?” You asked and rose up from your seat to begin cleaning up.

“He’s fine,” Michael’s answers were dry and to the point on purpose. “We’re working on it.”

“Alright,” you gathered a pile of empty plates, brushing off crumbs upon the tablecloth next to Michael.

Only a split second later did you look back up at Michael and catch his eye—almost feeling embarrassed for asking but you neither see annoyance nor discomfort in Michael’s expression.

You understood Michael didn’t want to talk about this with you and you didn’t push it. You also knew last night he didn’t come home from his father’s estate until 2 AM, and you had no intention of bothering him about it now.

You’ve always had more than enough to do for yourself and for the home regardless of how long Michael worked in or out of the manor.

You’d have your own day to worry about; cleaning up after breakfast, prepping for lunch, tidying up the house, laundry if required, getting any other daily errands done, focusing on a bit of your own work projects, then relaxing with a good book or in front of the television with a glass of wine.

You could step out into the garden for some fresh air, pull weeds, water the lawn, go for a walk or a dip in the pool; you balance your work and life well and you’ve never felt neglected or lost without a sense of purpose.

The compatibility between you and Michael is like none other and the two of you have always recognized this; there is no lack of transparency or intimacy, and there is no elephant in the room blocking the two of you from bonding with one another.

You and Michael could and always will make it work.

When it came down to planning to start a family with each other, having children was brought up immediately between Michael and you; a crucial concept and the second step into a married life with one another.

Of course, the brief conversation that only consisted of asking one another if you wanted children when you and Michael had first met did not count as a real and insightful conversation, it did strike you that Michael was a mature and serious man, ready for fatherhood and expecting to start a family in the very near future.

Michael would not have minded waiting a year or two before having children, but he would personally not wish to delay it any further past that.

To Michael, it was as if he had an urgency of some kind to start a family but there was no reasoning behind it or pressure coming from anyone. Still, you came to appreciate how much Michael anticipated entering parenthood with you, regardless of his reasons.

Perhaps you did sense Michael’s urgency when he first met you and asked if you wanted to have children in the future, but you simply had brushed it off for all that it was—a simple question.

You were twenty-five years old when you met Michael, and you were the second youngest sibling in your family and the only daughter.

With your little brother Dante being fifteen years younger than you, you practically raised him alongside your brothers and because you came from an equally large extended family, you loved children for as long as you could remember.

Just as you and your brothers had grown up, you knew the importance of proper parenting and how love would mold a child’s life forever.

Michael believed children were the products of their parents’ discipline, love, and behavior, saying, “If adults can bring out the worst in each other, they can do the same for children”.

Michael himself was twenty-nine when he met you and neither of you had objections of any kind to starting a family immediately after getting married.

Coming from the families and reputations you both grew up in and had, things such as time and money would simply not be an issue for you and Michael.

It was more of a matter of readiness and active parenting heavily required from both of you equally, not just yours as the mother.

You also knew Michael would be a stricter parent than you, but this did not imply anything harsh or along the lines of cruelty whatsoever.

Michael is not the type of man to ever raise a hand against a child or even raise his voice; calm, and collected, and with thorough explanation comes discipline and understanding. Michael knows how a child’s mind copes and works.

You are most definitely not the kind of parent to yell, threaten, let alone glare at children to have them respect or tolerate your fear let alone beat a child.

Neither Michael nor you ever faced such things growing up, but you both saw your fair share growing up with other children at school and in the neighborhood who did not have the same childhood as you two did.

Any type of abuse or psychological manipulation was a severe hard line; it was something you and Michael would never subject any child to, ever.

From being the only big sister to your little brother Dante, you knew there were a million ways around teaching and disciplining children without being physically, psychologically, or verbally abusive—even to children who have behavior issues.

You and Michael had been stressing to yourselves subconsciously the need to be nothing but good, loving parents teaching your future children manners and discipline early on without fear of repercussions or pain, but simply just to learn and understand.

Just a week ago you walked down the aisle and faced your lover—for the last time only as a lover before becoming Michael’s wife, wedded as Mrs. Corleone.

Now as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the role of Michael Corleone’s wife had already truly embedded in you; seeing your husband clasping a new diamond necklace around your neck gently.

You blushed as you caught Michael’s eye in the mirror, placing a hand over your necklace carefully.

Michael admired the glistening diamonds over your neck; his eyes adoring the very shape of your collarbones before he leaned toward your shoulder and planted a soft kiss over it.

With a bit of arousal having flared up in you, you shivered from Michael’s warm touch as he let his hands linger around the back of your neck before he placed them on your hips.

“Mm,” your eyes fluttered shut as you took in the brief moment, feeling Michael’s breath over the side of your neck.

Michael’s hands slowly made their way over to your stomach where he rubbed tenderly, watching as your body language submitted to how good he was already making you feel.

“Are you late?” Michael murmured over your shoulder.

Butterflies churned in your stomach and blush stung your cheeks at the very question. “I think it’s still too soon to tell, baby.”

“Mm,” Michael nodded and began to massage your sides.

“Why do you ask?” You slowly opened your eyes and spoke to him in a soft, ushered tone. “Do you suspect I am?”

“Perhaps,” Michael answered, “I want to be the first to know.”

You cracked a shy smile, “and you will be without a doubt.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Michael took your hands in his, turning you around to face him directly before he pulled you into his embrace. “Although you never did tell me how many you wanted.”

“I can tell you now,” you rested your head over Michael’s chest and nodded. “Four little ones… That would be something.”

“Mhmm,” Michael kissed the top of your head. “A topic better suited for the future after we have our first.”

“Boy or girl?” You grinned and looked up at your husband.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael told you. “But ultimately a son somewhere down the line to succeed our family.”

‘Of course.’ You knew it must have been the same with Michael’s father as it was with yours; one son at the very least to carry the family’s legacy under his name. ‘Understandable.’

“If you’re not…” Michael’s hands touched your hips again; his eyes beckoning to you. “Then we can try again.”

“And again?” You teased back, giggling. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Michael murmured and pulled your hips into his.

“As many times as we need to, hmm?” Your breath hitched as you bit down on your lip.

“As many times as you want to,” Michael corrected before he sealed a kiss over your lips.

The intimacy and love continuing to blossom between you and Michael unfolded in feverish desire and yearning. Like the beginning of an eternal and dangerous addiction, neither of you could get enough of the other.

Michael knew your love language was physical affection and words of affirmation just as you knew he was spending quality time with you and touching.

Michael couldn’t care less for material gifts and preferred experiences above all, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t care, enjoy, or appreciate either.

“Ah…” A breathy moan escaped your lips as your hand clutched over Michael’s back; feeling his firm, flexing muscle as Michael remained leaning down and hovering over your naked body.

Between the sounds of Michael’s lips leaving a trail of hot kisses over your neck, you heard his breathing hitching as his throbbing erection pressed against your stomach.

Barely a week into your marriage and filled to the brim with insatiable love and desire, Michael was unable to get enough of his new bride and her beauty.

“Ohhh…”

Inhaling deeply, Michael took in your scent as he nuzzled your neck; now glowing pink with the love marks he left behind as you had let your free hand roam through Michael’s tousled hair.

“Look at me,” Michael whispered against your lips as he grazed his thumb over your mouth, parting your bottom lip. “Look at me when I make love to you.”

‘Oh God, yes…’

The first three months of marriage may as well have been a fever dream for both of you.

Of course, none would be surprised at the sudden stamina the new bride and groom have for one another although some teasing and a dirty joke here and there would be in order, but if it wasn’t a night out or quality time spent with the family, Michael and you were doing nothing else but getting lost in one another again and again.

You’d lay in bed naked with the blankets barely covering yourself as you’d watch Michael strip down right in front of you before approaching you on the bed, and Michael enjoyed every second of undressing you himself with his own hands; the way the curves of your hips and fullness of your thighs felt against his hand as your skin was hot to the touch, brimming with passion and your body begging for pleasure was nothing short of ecstasy to Michael.

With your bodies intertwined with one another, you could practically feel Michael’s heart racing against yours; nothing but toe-curling, eye-rolling, intense orgasms, and memorizing every part of each other’s bodies filled your evenings for days to come.

You woke an urge tailored to your pleasure inside of Michael he could not ignore. Even after a night of ecstasy, if you approached him half-naked in the living room and begged Michael to fuck you again, he wouldn’t say no.

You straddled Michael’s lap and let your lace panties slip off your ankles as you felt the smooth, Italian silk fabric of Michael’s suit brush against your bare skin.

On his lap, you let out a whimpering moan as you pressed your hips against his and ran your hands up Michael’s half-unbuttoned dress shirt; his chest hair brushing past your fingers as you clutched onto his shoulders.

Michael leaned his back against his seat comfortably; his hands ran from your calves to your upper thighs before he cupped your ass and gave it a greedy squeeze.

Michael’s eyes expectantly looked at you. “You play the innocent, sweet role well…”

“Mm—” You whimpered as you pressed your lips against Michael’s neck from him giving your ass another harsh squeeze.

“But I see right through it,” Michael whispered to you—his tone low and husky.

“I…” You breathed shakily against Michael’s skin before planting a deep kiss over it; your free hand roamed through his black, silky hair.

You heard a barely audible, soft moan escape Michael’s lips which only intensified the feverish arousal coursing through your veins as you continued to hungrily kiss up and around Michael’s neck.

Michael wrapped one arm around your waist and kept his hand over your ass; his eyes half remained half-opened as he let you get lost within him, taking and getting everything you want.

Your kisses grew wet, hot, and sloppy around Michael’s jawline as you moaned through them yourself; severely aroused to the point where you thought your wetness pooling over the fabric of your panties was soaking through Michael’s trousers.

“Mine…” You cupped Michael’s cheek and turned his face to look him in the eye directly. “All mine…”

“Yours,” Michael said back before his lips sealed over yours in a crushing, needy kiss.

Your pussy throbbed from arousal over Michael’s knee; it practically had a heartbeat of its own from how horny you were feeling towards your husband—so much so that it was almost criminal.

“Look at you,” As Michael pulled away from the kiss, he gripped your throat with his free hand and let his thumb trace the outline of your bottom lip. “Can’t get your hands off of me.”

“You’re mine,” you panted back and took Michael by pleasant surprise as you licked his thumb. “

“That’s right, baby,” Michael murmured before pulling you back to him by your throat to give you another wet, rough kiss over the mouth.

As you fully straddled Michael’s lap and began to slowly grind your hips, gyrating them against Michael’s pulsating erection, Michael let his hands slip up through your skirt and play with the band of your panties.

Lost in insistent, passionate kisses, Michael pulled at your panties only to let it snap back against your skin as you were distracted between his lips.

Michael let his fingers go further, parting your dewy pussy lips to spread your wetness with one hand while squeezing your breast and massaging your nipple with his fingers on the other.

Aside from such fiery, mutual infatuation and lust, there was more; there was and always will be more.

The love between you and Michael blossomed so naturally that it could never feel forced like it was some sort of obligation that had to be fulfilled.

In public, despite the two of you being not so fond of blatant displays of affection, held hands or had Michael wrap an arm over your waist in casual but adoring affection you craved and yearned for always.

Just one touch from Michael—let alone his presence—was more than enough for you. It did nothing but thrill you all the more knowing this man is yours and you’re his; you’ll have all of Michael whenever you want and however you want.

Distance makes your heart grow fonder when Michael’s away on his business trips or doesn’t come home for a night. You’ve never felt insecurity, unsafe, or any sort of lingering sadness about Michael’s consistent absences to begin with.

Even at the end of a long night with little time to yourselves to follow another eventful one, you’d have just the same satisfaction in Michael’s embrace without the sexual intimacy.

Some of your most loving, romantic nights with Michael were the two of you skin-to-skin on the rooftop, naked and exchanging soft kisses as Michael smoked a cigarette.

Saying, “Yes, I do” and signing your marriage papers, your legal name became Victoria Ferrari Corleone; a unique love and lover to Michael in the sense that Michael could never treat you the way he treated Apollonia or Kay, but exponentially more protective, loving, and open to you in all aspects.

Your compatibility with Michael only resulted in him being all the more open with you; not feeling obligated to because you’ll get upset or ask, but because Michael wishes to—because he wants to.

There’s simply no entitlement; only love and caring. You could not describe your marriage to Michael Corleone in any other way.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

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x-reader-things · 7 months

Note

Hi!!! I was the one who requested the jealous Ezra x reader fic!

My request was Ezra being jealous around the best friend that is a boy (IDK if that was the original prompt but here it is!)

Thank you so much!

Thank YOU so much - especially for requesting again, I am so sorry that it got deleted-

I think it had something to do with being jealous and protective but I’ll just merge the two.

I hope you enjoy!

“Best friend or not.”

Ezra Bridger x Fem!Reader [romantic]

Summary ; In which Ezra is denying his jealousy, and gets protective of you after a mission.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; A bit of canonical type violence, reader’s best friend is a bit of an asshole, and mentions and of assimilation and depictions of losing important items of cultures.

Word Count ; 3.8 k

——————————————————————

Ezra Bridger is never really one to be jealous.

Sure, he had bouts of it when he first met Sabine. Mainly vying for her attention instead of it being on others out of pure admiration, mistaking it for a crush. And sure, you were jealous of it back then too. But that was before you realized that Sabine was cool, and before he realized that all he wanted was a friend.

Never really had that before he met you and her.

And that, was almost a few years ago.

No, Ezra Bridger was never one to be jealous.

Not in the slightest.

Not at all.

No, he wasn’t drawn to it like a moth is to a flame. He didn’t feel a slow burning pit in the depths of his gut, the simmer of fire licking up the back of his neck. He didn’t feel annoyance ticking in the back of his head with a timer constantly going off and resetting when the feeling settles down. He didn’t roll his eyes every time Linel Rhayme, a pantoran rebel fighter known as the new Pheonix-3, and you were in the same room together. No.

He wasn’t jealous.

I mean, how could he be? You can have other friends. You HAVE had other friends. HE’S had other friends. He can’t be jealous, it’s not possible.

It’s a horrible emotion that Jedi shouldn’t have.

He wasn’t jealous.

——————————————————————

“Ezra! Focus.”, his master sternly said in a low voice, a hand clamping down onto his shoulder with a pressure he knows only as Kanan. Kanan leaned down a bit to make sure Ezra was listening. “Specter-7 will be fine. Now pay attention to this meeting, we have another mission we have to focus on.”

Ezra’s eyes darted away from you loading up Phantom II with supply crates in the distance. Your laugh rang out and echoed softly against the stone walls of the rebel base on Yavin IV, blending into the ambient bustle of noise around the area like a raindrop to a puddle.

Serene and unbothered, unlike the surface tension of the water.

Your pantoran friend laughed along with you, a voice that Ezra immediately tuned out with a quiet huff of breath. His… dislike (not jealousy!) of said rebel allowed him to be drawn back into the meeting at hand, focus no longer split up between two parts of the base.

Linel was assigned another mission along with you and you alone. Something that had to deal with intel and grabbing specific packages of important items that belonged to a few of the cultures being forcefully assimilated into imperial culture.

You, before having joined the Ghost crew at your young age, had been training on your planet to be a cultural anthropologist. You knew a lot of bits and pieces and important information about thousands of different groups along the outer rim, and being in the rebellion helped you hone that ability for even the smallest and most important tasks a rebel could have.

Bringing hope to people that they would stay, and not be completely wiped away from existence due to the Empire.

“Items hold a lot of importance, Ez.” You once told him. “It’s physical evidence of people, and creatures, and even planets alike that they exist. The empire wants to take that away from us too. I think everyone here knows that, to some degree.”

You were definitely an integral part of that mission. And Ezra couldn’t knock that. You would be able to differentiate what came from where, and help other rebels send it back to the places that those items came from.

His problem lies with Linel.

Kind of.

And the fact that you had to get close to Dathomir, where those witch-spirit-things were. And remnants of Night Sisters and who knows what else around the place.

He wished you didn’t need to go.

He wished that his mission with the rest of the ghost crew wasn’t on the opposite end of the Outer Rim.

He wished someone else was going with you, not Linel—

No, no, no.

Stop.

That’s jealousy talking, you aren’t like that Ezra.

He sighed through his nose, thoughts clearing up the more he paid attention to Hera’s instructions on their mission. Infiltrating another important supply run of ammunition that the Empire was sending off to one of the other planets they took.

It was just as important as your mission.

He needed to focus on that.

——————————————————————

The ride back to their temporary home on Yavin IV couldn’t go any slower than it did. The amount of alternate hyperspace routes the Ghost Crew had to take due to an increase of imperial vigilance was both annoying and astounding all on its own.

They - especially Ezra - could only hope that you were alright. You were a great flier, a great fighter even, trained underneath both Hera and Sabine themselves. They all know you can handle the heat when things get tough.

Their questions lie within the realms of of Linel could take it.

Hopefully he should, being a Pheonix-3 fighter who has flown under Hera’s command herself before. She has no doubt that he can handle a flying situation when he’s at the helm.

Of a one-manned ship, that is.

The crew could only hope that nothing went wrong, and things went as smoothly as they usually would go. (Not that smoothly, knowing their luck, but at least smooth enough to make sure you weren’t physically hurt.)

The moment the Ghost docked down on Yavin IV, Ezra quickly got off the ramp once it touched the ground. He jogged over to Aleksandr Kallus once he saw him, and slowed to a stop once he was close enough.

“Hey, Kallus—“, Ezra greeted, a little bit breathless on his rush to get over to him. “—any sign of Spectre-7 and Pheonix-3 yet?”

“Not yet, Bridger,” Kallus told him, earning a frown from Ezra. And a furrowed brow. Odd. But not out of character. “Don’t worry, Spectre-6, they just hit a small snag coming home.”

“Needed to take another hyperspace route, I’m guessing?”

“Not… exactly.”, Kallus sighed, partly out of annoyance. He had a task he had to get to; Ezra was taking up some of his time doing it. “Look, we’ll know properly when they come back. Their comms were a little garbled but I’m sure it’s fine, now, if you excuse me.”

He stepped around Ezra, going off into some other part of the base of his task. Ezra groaned quietly, shaking his head while walking back to the Ghost.

“What’d Kallus say about her?”, Sabine asked him, pushing a crate of unopened ammunitions his way.

Ezra took the floating crate, and moved it to join the pile of other crates in front of them. “Said she hit a snag coming home. They aren’t exactly sure what’s going on, either. Comms weren’t all that clear, apparently.”

“That’s… concerning”, Sabine said. A worried furrow crinkled the skin in between her brows when she took off her mandolorian helmet. She set it against her side with her arm slung over it. “I mean, I’m sure she’s fine and all, but he said nothing else?”

“Not a thing.”, Ezra crossed his arms in front of him, his hands lightly digging into the orange material of his jacket. It wasn’t much of a worried furrow that made his brow angle downwards as much as annoyance. Disdain, almost.

Kallus was still a little iffy on the trusting end for the both of them.

Sabine hummed in thought, eyes boring into the stone ground below them. “I’m sure we’ll figure out more when they both come back. Spectre-7 is always careful, especially on a mission that plays to her strengths. She’ll be ok.”

The mandalorian gave Ezra a comforting pat on the shoulder, one he gratefully took with a small and thankful smile, and walked back onto the ghost. Sabine took another ammunitions crate from Zeb, and pushed it down the ramp towards Ezra. He took the crate from her, looking back and forth between the ghost and where the Phantom II should be showing up, and continued on with his task of putting them all in a pile to be moved.

It should at least give him some time to stay calm. Distracting himself from the horrible flame of an emotion that sparked every time he thought of your mission, and who you were with.

He’s not jealous.

Concerned for your well-being, maybe.

But not jealous.

——————————————————————

A roar of a smaller ship skidding harshly on the stone snapped the whole of the Ghost Crew out of their stupor. Their mundane task of unloading the ship ceased, a whole load of wide eyes - and lenses, in Chopper’s case - staring in a frightful concern at one of the most dangerous landings they’ve seen the Phantom II take yet.

Once the skidding stopped just before a whole weapons unit, the screams of other rebels scrambling away had trickled down into a lot of murmuring. Ezra took the first step and dashed down the ramp of the Ghost ship, followed by other concerned rebels who found their way over to the smoking engines of the Phantom II.

Ezra coughed, covering his nose with his elbow and opened the back door entrance with the force. He didn’t want to waste any time if you were injured.

You and Linel almost stumbled and fell out of the ship, coughs racking through your throats. Smoke billowed out of the back, and there was a chorus of shouts when you both got out of the ship.

“I told you to leave the flying to me—“, you said, wheezing out another cough. You shoved Linel’s side, and you heaved in air. Your hand snapped up to cover a gash - bruise? No, definitely a gash - on your right arm. Ezra was immediately at your other side, his right arm going under your left to help you up better.

Your tired eyes met his with a thankful nod, and he nodded back at you. The both of you turned towards Linel once he started speaking.

“I’m a better flyer than you! I fly more than you on the daily, Y/n!”, he snapped back, also wheezing out the smoke from his lungs. You scoffed at his words and stumbled a step closer towards your friend.

“Woah, careful—“, Ezra began. He promptly shut up the moment your accusatory finger from your injured arm pointed up at the pantoran.

“Shut up, Linel, I fly the Phantom II WAY more than you do. You had no idea what the hell you were doing when those damn imperials got there!”

Ezra blinked. He - wasn’t expecting the amount of disdain in your voice. The amount of venom spouting through your words and weaving through the air like an uncomfortable blanket.

“You wanted to take things slow, that’s not how I do things—”, Linel started.

“YOU COSTED US THOSE CRATES!”

“YOU WERE TOO SLOW—“

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT - THAT’S ENOUGH, YOU TWO”, shouted another voice. Ezra, Linel, and you all flinched. Hera’s voice rung out in stern chords, silencing the yells that began to echo across the base. “That’s enough. Ezra, I want you to take Spectre-7 to the medical bay while Pheonix-3 tells me his version of what happened. Chopper, I need you to run specs on Phantom II, tell me everything we need to replace or get fixed. Sabine, Zeb and Kanan will go get what’s needed. Spectre-7 I’ll get a recount of your version of events later. Everyone understand me?”

A chorus of ‘Yes sir’s’, and ‘you got it’s’ and warbles from Chopper sounded off. Chopper headed closer to the damaged ship, Sabine, Zeb and Kanan following afterwards. Hera took Linel off to the side and sat him down on an empty crate, prompting him to tell her what happened on the mission.

Meanwhile, after Ezra was certain he glared holes into the back of Linel’s head, he led you carefully to the medical bay of the base. Your arm needed tending to, and he wanted - no, needed - to make sure you were ok.

——————————————————————

“Alright, Spectre-7”, Hera began, walking into the room of the medical bay you resided in for the moment. “Spill. What happened during the mission?”

Ezra finished tugging the last of the bandage over the gash on your arm, and tucked the last sliver of gauze underneath the rest of it. You glanced over and let out a sigh, your eyes settling in on staring down at Hera’s shoes.

“The mission started off as planned.”, you started. Your good hand lightly picked at a rip against the seam of your pants, thick material rough against the tips of your fingers. They were comfier than they looked, that’s for sure.

“We got out of hyperspace near Dathomir, hid behind one of the asteroids nearby and cloaked our signature. The pirate ship - not from anyone we knew, that’s for sure - docked on the light cruiser and we flew close by and attached to the pirate ship as planned. Sabine’s implant on the ship from a couple weeks ago worked, we didn’t need to contact them inside. Bounty hunters were distracted, bucket heads distracted. Something about payments and other shit I wasn’t paying attention to.

“The crates were there, on the bounty hunter’s ship. And I wanted to take things slow. Take as much as we could for a run back, and then go back on it again for the rest. Linel stayed inside Phantom II to load in the crates as planned. On my second run things went to hell and back between the pirates and the imperials because of a mishap in their agreement and Linel almost took off without me!”

At this point your hands moved with your words. An angry astonishment still held into your words, a bitterness left by your best friend. One you wouldn’t think would betray you, but ended up doing any how.

The simmering spark of flame in Ezra’s gut flared again.

Now’s not the time for jealousy, he told himself.

“I had to leave half of the items there, and rush back on before the door closed. And because of how quick he left we got spotted by imperials, we fought over who’s going to fly and we fucked up the Phantom really badly. Got nicked by a bunch of TIE-fighters and we we finally got back here the atmosphere finally did those damages in. Most of what was in the crates still left in the Phantom II are as good as destroyed now, Hera!”

You finally looked up at Hera, and her eyes immediately softened. Not out if you being one of her soft spots of the rebellion. One of the kids she took under her wing. No, not just out of that. The pure look of anguish that you hid behind your irritation at Linel was there, clear as day.

You always loved caring and learning about other people.

Cultural items held a hand in that. Those were always important to you. Severely, almost.

“All those pieces - all those stories, maybe even people, gone. And it was his fault for being too impulsive and my fault for letting it get to me. It was like before I joined you guys, Hera - everything I fucking lost from my people I that promised to get back and didn’t. It’s all gone because we fucked up.”

Oh.

You took a quiet breath, you shoulder bumping into Ezra’s. With a couple of blinks, you looked back down at Hera’s shoes, and wiped at the corner of one of your eyes, successful at keeping the dam that was your waterline of a lower eyelid at bay. “So… that’s all there is to it, General Syndulla.”

Nevermind.

Hera sighed, and sat down on your left side, her hand gently settling down on your left shoulder. “Well, at least now I know that maybe some best friends shouldn’t be paired together.”, she lightly chuckled, and you let out a quiet scoff of a laugh.

That feeling isn’t jealousy.

Your pinky finger edged against Ezra’s on your right, and he tapped his against yours, both of you curling said finger around the other’s.

It’s anger.

“Linel’s going to be grounded here for a couple weeks”, Hera states, voice still as calming as ever. “I have to ground you here as well to save face, alright? I’ll have Chopper go over the mission logs and recordings made during it just in case, see which one of your stories are corroborated with it. Just in case.”

She said the last sentence in such a way that told you she was still on your side. And you couldn’t be more grateful to her.

“Now, about the gash?”, Hera asked.

“The landing”, both you and Ezra answered. The Twi’lek laughed softly at the two of you.

“I figured as much.”

——————————————————————

“Hey, Linel Rhayme, right?”

Linel looked up from the data pad he was looking at, locking eyes with Ezra. “Oh, Commander Bridger. What’s up?”, he asked, letting his hands hang against his sides, datapad clutched into one of them.

“Nothing much,” Ezra said with a shrug. He leaned against the stone wall of the base, uncaring about the rough ridges digging into his back. “You and Y/n. Spectre-7. Best friends, right?”

“Right. The one and only!”, Linel answered, a nervous lilt slowly cantering into his voice. “Kinda messed up on that last mission though. We made up for it, I think. She’s still a little icy about it, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Right.” Ezra said with a slow nod. “Well, kinda understandable when her best friend almost left her to fend for herself against both bounty hunter’s AND imperials. But I mean, you said it for yourself. Nothing you aren’t used to, right?”

Bitter.

Linel shuffled his feet. He was a couple inches further away from Ezra than he last stood.

“Look, Commander, it’s not like I had a choice. They would’ve grabbed us if I hadn’t started leaving—“, the pantoran began, brows beginning to furrow against his blue skin.

“—But, the thing is, you DID have a choice.”, Ezra cut off, eyes narrowed, darkened under the shade of the stone above them. His voice was calm and collected as his arms crossed in front of him. “You almost got captured regardless, and you put my partner in harms way. I don’t really take kindly to others that end up hurting the people I care about, you know.”

Ezra pushed himself off the wall, and walked closer to Linel. “Next time instead of spearheading your way to an impulsive decision like that on a mission under her lead, why don’t you listen to her instead, huh?”

He gave Linel a couple pats on his shoulder, and began to walk away.

“It’s not like you’re any better, Bridger.”

Ezra stopped in his tracks, not looking back at Linel behind him. He had more to say, so Ezra decided to wait until he said what he needed to.

“I’ve heard stories about how Commander Bridger of the great ship The Ghost was impulsive, and consistently put his teams into greater danger because of his decisions. Especially at the beginning.”, Linel said, a hint of malice lacing in between those words. “Don’t be a hypocrite and reprimand me for something I did that you’ve done multiple times.”

Calm.

Ezra took a deep breath. “I may have been impulsive and done that a few times, especially during the beginning. I’m not knocking that in the slightest. But, they were never out of a selfish need to get away after I joined the Ghost. And I made sure I never left anyone behind if the situation allowed it.”

He turned back to Linel. “Can you say the same for yourself?”

Silence.

“Be glad that my partner forgave you. That’s a trust you never want to try and earn back if you break it.”

Ezra turned away once again, not getting a sound out of Linel, and walked on. “Thanks for calling me out on my hypocrisy though. I’ll be sure to work on it.”

The pantoran could only watch the Jedi walk away.

——————————————————————

Somewhere off in the distance was the rest of the ghost crew - minus you and Hera -!near Phantom II, checking it’s diagnostics and grabbing what was needed to replace it. Sabine caught a glimpse of Ezra talking to Linel, and excused herself from the rest of the group to grab some supplies they needed.

“You didn’t go too hard on the guy, did you?”, she asked Ezra when he walked by her. She had the hovering cart of supplies in her hands already, and pushed them with her while the two walked back to the broken down extension of the Ghost.

“I didn’t.”

Sabine raised a brow at her younger brother figure, a smirk rising onto her face at his shrug. She gave him a pointed look.

“I didn’t!”, he raised his hands (and his voice octave too), in mock surrender. “I swear.”

“Surreee you did.” The mandalorian rolled her eyes with a snort, looking ahead of them. “Sure.”

A long stretch of silence slid by them both as they walked, only broken by a quiet and reluctant scoff Ezra let out. “Like I’d ever let him get away with what he did with Y/n kriff free.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t let him either. Best friend or not.”

Ezra nodded in agreement.

“Best friend or not.”

#ezra bridger x reader #star wars rebels x reader #romantic x reader #x reader #platonic x reader #fem!reader #romantic!ezra bridger x reader #platonic!sabine wren x reader #platonic!hera syndulla x reader #i was looking up what kinda species other than human I can base the best friend on #and settled on pantoran #and looked at character names for to figure out the name of readers best friend and found a bounty hunter named Lassa Rhayme and decided to #steal the last name #Linel and Lassa are distantly related now #sometimes best friends can be assholes too #and Ezra seems like he’s not be like the explosive jealousy and protective type after a while #so #we got calm anger Ezra which is a lot more intimidating than regular anger Ezra #👁🍵👁#anyways hi I’m love Ezra sm #also big sister Sabine- <33333 #and Hera being Hera

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hischierdevils · 1 year

Text

hischierdevils’ masterlist

you can find links to everything i’ve written below the cut. please let me know if a link isn’t working. :)

♥️- explicit/sexual content

Blurb Masterlist

Quinn Hughes

You Don't Go To Parties - quinn realizes way too late that he made a mistake and now he has to fix it

Friend’s Don’t - everyone can see that you and quinn are more than just friends. everyone except the two of you

Doin’ You Right ♥️ - y/n overhears quinn having a conversation and gets a little hot and bothered

Close As Strangers - you realize that quinn doesn’t have to be physically gone for you to miss him

Jack Hughes

Uh-oh ♥️ Part II ♥️- the two of you aren't in a relationship but you can't stop going back to him

Kill My Time - jack always has to share you and he's getting tired of it

Tequila Girl - you and your friends go out to a bar to celebrate the devils and act a little devilish yourselves

Belong To - your boyfriend is oblivious to the feelings you have for his best friend

Nico Hischier

Headcanons

Valentine - valentines’s day causes nico to doubt your relationship

Forget Series - after ending your toxic relationship with mat barzal, nico is there to help you pick up the pieces

Teeth ♥️ - you get a little attitude with nico but he puts you in your place

Body Better - after a long weekend away you’re excited to get home to your boyfriend nico

Mat Barzal

Forget Series - you and mat have a toxic relationship and he gets upset when he sees you’ve moved on with nico

Lie To Me - mat sees you for the first time since the break up and you both have to confront your feelings

Mitch Marner

Ruin The Moment - you take mitch as your date to a wedding but your ex is there and has questions

John Marino

Headcanons

Best Years - you have to leave john behind in order to follow your dreams. can you find your way back to each other?

Lover of Mine - a late night storm prompts john to admit his secret fear

Moth to a Flame - you and john have always been drawn to each other but now it may be too late for him to do something about it

#crystals masterlist

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giorno-plays-piano · 1 year

Text

Adore Adore

Part II

Pairing: king!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Steve, obsession, noncon, threats, mentions of murder and misogyny, magic.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: The King looked just as you remembered him the last time you were summoned to the court along with your father to the coronation: he seemed to emit light anywhere he went, bold and overpowering and radiant, with his perfectly golden hair and white teeth and unearthly blue eyes, and people were drawn to him like moths to the flame.

Part I

P.S. There is no description of reader’s appearance, but there’s a mention she has short hair.

_____________

By the next morning everyone knew count's daughter charmed the young King despite how much you tried to shy away from his touch and not speak much when he loudly declared he had found an object of his affections. Of course, your father was extatic. An only daughter, and the one not even handsome enough, becoming King's favorite from the moment he saw her! The old count wouldn't care even if you told him the King was cruel and cold and there was something unnatural about him and the golden glow he emitted. What of it all when now the count got to be a father-in-law to His Majesty, the most noble man in the country with so many chests of gold he wouldn't be able to count them all. Worse, the King was kind to him, humoring him with a small talk and an unusual niceness, keeping the facade of a benevolent master, and it made your blood boil and your mouth hurt from how hard you were clenching your teeth to stay quiet.

Why did he choose you? You with your plain face and a simple silver gown so carefully chosen to avoid any attention because the King treasured beauty and gold above anything else. You didn't even talk long enough for him to decide whether he liked you or not when he just threw a glance at you and declared you are to be wed soon, making other ladies nearby faint.

No, something was wrong. The King you knew was not fickle. He did not go around changing his brides day after day.

"It is a challenge that entices him," your old nanny said, helping you out of your gown when you had been finally left alone in your chamber. "He chose you because no one else had ever said no to him. Be pliant and warm and welcoming, and he will find a better object of his affections."

She didn't see why the King nearly made you retch since she was blind to his light like any other noble or servant, but she was the woman who had raised you and knew you better than you yourself did. You wouldn't go against your father's wishes so ardently if you didn't have a solid reason, she said. If you believed the King was cold and cruel, then he surely was.

Before you went to sleep that night, she had made you smile and laugh and curtsy until she was satisfied with the expressions you wore, ensuring you were ready to face the King tomorrow. Make him regret choosing you, she said. Be sweet and kind, do anything he tells you, and he will quickly forget your face in the crowd of other beauties, your nanny whispered into your ear the next morning before you left, dressed in gold from head to toe.

And you were pliant, you were gentle and gracious, and even your father was perplexed with a sudden change in your character, but he said nothing to you. All for the better to him who already saw himself the most noble man after His Majesty. Nevertheless, when you smiled pleasantly and curtsied to the King with your head bent low, he narrowed his too-eager eyes and said nothing to you, too. He spent the whole day in the manner everyone expected of a king, dancing, drinking, talking to the nobles about unimportant matters, and proclaiming his love to you for everyone to hear, forcing you to trail after him obediently like a dog. It was suffocating and ill-mannered and wrong, and you could do nothing to escape King's attention.

Even when you excused yourself for a breath of fresh air the way you did yesterday, he went after you discreetly and pulled you into his embrace behind a heavy golden curtain when nobody saw. You stilled in his arms, afraid to turn your head to him and let your facade you so carefully constructed crumble, and the King chuckled, lowering his mouth to your ear so that his quiet breathing made your skin burn.

"You are my clever fox," he let out a laugh, his clotheness bringing a wave of heat to your cheeks. "You think if you can fool me with your smiles, and I'd be glad to be swept of my feet, but when we'll be alone in my chambers you'll be cold and hateful, and I love it the most."

Tears were coming to your eyes from humiliation and anger, and you felt sorely urged to weep, but the presence of the King kept you cold and silent, and so you stood until he parted from you with a kiss to your temple, dissappearing behind the curtain.

You stood there all alone until you found your body moving again, the tips of your fingers burning and your throat sore.

You knew then nothing would persuade the King, neither your tears nor your obedient smiles, to free you from the chains he had already put you in. He was mad, wasn't he? He wanted a woman who despised him openly and did not wish him well. He was eager to put this woman on a throne as long as he could have her in his chambers.

Something was very, very wrong with the young King.

But you no longer wept when you came back to the room you occupied in the castle before your future husband made you the Queen. If tears wouldn't help, perhaps threats would.

You couldn't explain why it was so wrong to marry Steven Grant Rogers, the son of the former King and a witch-maid, but something was telling you he was dangerous and mad and deadly cold, and you could not waste your life away for him. Anything, anything was better than being wed to the King.

Bribing the guards stationed outside his chamber wasn't difficult. You were not the first girl trying it, but you were the bride he was going to wed soon, and your excuse about wishing to please your King seemed to work as men smirked knowingly and let you in. The part where you convinced yourself to bring the dagger underneath your skirts was much more challenging: you were not versed in threats of violence or, worse, torture.

But it had to be done, hadn't it? He would not stop unless you scared him to death, made him fear for his life, and King's life was worth far more than a marriage to some girl who didn't even belong with the capital's nobles. No, this would do the trick, and even if you failed and he killed you in a mad glee, somehow it still felt better than spending your life with this man. Were you to leave the chamber and drop your dagger shining in the dark, perhaps, you'd wonder what it was that made you act like a mad woman, forget you had barely held a weapon in your arms before and certainly didn't wish death upon anyone at all. But by then you were at your wits end, shaking on top of King's colossal bed, waiting for him to step in his chamber and swallow the bait.

________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodierin @yeolliedokai @what-is-your-wish @lou-la-lou @gachawipes133 @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @youngdreamer3214 @eralen

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #yandere #captain america

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petitelepus · 9 months

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FOX’S WEDDING, PART 3

KITSUNE!RENGUKO KYOJURO X FEM!READER

Summary: You and Kyojuro head out to a convenience store and on your way back you stop by the park to talk.

Warnings: None

A/N: Female Reader, Kitsune Kyojuro, Kitsune Senjuro, Kitsune Rengoku, Monster Musume!AU

PART 1 II PART 2 II PART 3 II PART 4 II PART 5 II PART 6 II PART 7 II PART 8 II PART 9 II PART 11 II PART 12 II PART 13 II PART 14 II PART 15 II PART 16 II PART 17 II PART 18 II PART 19

You were on your way to the closest convenience store called 7-Eleven that you had found on your phone's GPS. What couldn't phones do these days? Kyojuro was amazed by how handy the little device of yours could be and you were honestly amused by his reactions.

"So that little device helps you to find your way to places?" He asked and you nodded, "Yes. You can also use it to listen to music, watch videos or explore the internet, though, it's mostly designed to be used to call someone."

"My, how technology is amazing these days!" Kuojuro exclaimed, "Internet? Like ones Jorōgumo's make?"

"Wait, what?" Now you were confused. Luckily, Kyojuro didn't seem to mind your lack of knowledge and he nodded, "Yes, they are demihumans, usually called as spider-ladies."

"Ooh, now I know what you mean!" You smiled and nodded, "Internet is a little different. It's not physical, but you can access it with electronic devices. You can find probably anything from there."

"How intriguing!" The fox nodded, "Can you teach me and my brother to use this net?"

"Yes, it shouldn't be hard." You said, but then you thought about it a little bit and you came to the conclusion that the Fox brothers would need some electronics of their own.

"Remind me that we get you and Senjuro your own phones and computers." You told him and the fox looked at you curiously, "What is computer?"

"It's a device you use to explore the internet."

"Oh, like the phone?"

You nodded, but also corrected him, "Yes, but the computer is almost solely used for exploring the internet while the phone's main job is to call someone else with a phone."

"So if I have a phone, I can call you or my brother and talk with you?"

"Yes."

"No matter where I am?"

"Mostly, yes."

"How handy!" He shouted happily, "So I don't need to send crow messages anymore?"

"No, you don't need to use bird mail anymore, and unlike birds, the messages you send with the phone arrive in the other device in the manner of seconds." You explained, before yawning a little. While it was nice to teach Kyojuro new things, you were slowly feeling the lack of proper sleep creep close by.

"Are you tired, my Hime?" Kyojuro asked and you yawned one more time before shaking your head, "No, or, well, maybe a little, but it's alright."

The fox nodded and he looked like he wanted to say something, but that was when you noticed the bright lights in the short distance and you grinned, "I think we are here."

Kyojuro looked ahead and you grinned a little as you saw his gorgeous eyes widen a the sight of the brightly lit convenience store. The look in his eyes reminded you of the saying like a moth to a flame.

"I guarantee, it's more amazing inside." You said as you gently took his hand and your words and actions seemed to snap the Kitsune out of his mind. He turned to look at you and you smiled as you escorted him inside.

The moment you made it inside, Kyojuro was amazed by all the different foods and drinks all around the store. The place was empty save for the cashier who was reading a magazine behind the register so you and Kyojuro were able to shop in peace.

While the fox gawked at all the treats on display, you grabbed a basket for you and one for your companion. You had to nudge him a little to get his attention and once you had it, you pushed the basket to his hands.

"Fill it with whatever you want me to buy."

"Whatever I want?" Kyojuro's eyes almost sparkled in excitement and you had to look away or risk turning blind.

"Yes, I'll grab some things so you can do the same." You nodded and he smiled as he moved to forward to explore the store. You smiled as you watched him look around and you went to pick up something to make for breakfast.

You grabbed the most basic things there were, such as cereals, milk, orange and apple juice, a carton of eggs, some bacon, and other things that could be counted as part of the breakfast table.

Once you were satisfied with your basket, you sought out Kyojuro who had a basket of his own filled with food and drinks he was curious about. Speaking of curiosity, he was by the register, staring at something intensely. You approached him and carefully tapped his shoulder so you wouldn't startle him.

"Ah, my beloved bride!" He exclaimed and you wondered how the cashier didn't react to him. Kyojuro looked ahead and pointed at some food inside the vitrine next to the register. "What are these buns?"

"They look like they are steamed." You thought out loud as you read the product's description, "Yes, they are steamed buns with pizza filling."

"Pizza?" Kyojuro looked at you and you nodded, "It's a fast food like the hamburgers we had earlier. It's very good."

"In that case, may I try some?"

"Sure, I don't mind." You shrugged and looked at the cashier behind the register, who was still too engaged with his magazine to notice that he had customers. You cleared your throat and the young man glanced at you and the moment he saw he had customers, he sighed and got up.

"Welcome to 7-Eleven, how can I help you?" He asked and you almost winched how lifeless he sounded. You grabbed the older fox's basket and lifted it alongside your basket on the desk between you and the cashier.

"We would like to buy these and...!" You turned to look at the vitrine to see what there was. There were 6 buns left and by what you had learned today, Kyorujo had a bottomless stomach.

"And rest of your steamed buns."

If the cashier cared then he did a good job hiding it. Honestly, he probably didn't give a shit about anything. Maybe he served you because he wanted you gone quickly so he could return to read that magazine of his.

You watched as he scanned your groceries, put them in the bag, and placed the pizza buns in a separate bag, before he asked you to pay, he glanced at Kyojuro, "You cosplaying or something, dude?"

"Cos... Play?" The fox tilted his head in confusion and you shook your head, "Forget it, I'll explain later."

The cashier nodded before asking you to pay. Which you did. Once you were done, you handed Kyojuro his buns and picked up the grocery bags and left the store, and entered the night again.

"You have so much to carry!" Kyojuro noted, "Let me carry them!"

"No, no, you focus on those buns and then you can help me carry these!" You snapped, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but you were having none of that. The fox looked around and suddenly exclaimed, "There!"

You nearly dropped your bags, you were so startled by his sudden shouting.

"Wha-?" You were about to ask when Kyojuro grabbed you and pulled you with him to a small playground. You blinked as he took the groceries from your hands and placed them on the ground by the swings as he took a seat on one.

"We can sit here while I eat!" He said and you honestly had no energy to argue against him. "Okay, sounds good, but we can't stay for long since it's so late and Senjuro is alone at the house."

It was maybe around midnight and you didn't want to leave the house empty for too long since Senjuro was there all by himself. You took a seat on the swing next to his and lazily kicked your legs, making the swing move a little.

"Yes, I'll eat quickly so we can head back quickly and safely!" Kyojuro exclaimed as he fished out a hot bun from the bag and took a bite.

"TASTY!" He shouted and you winched a little by how loud he was being. "Please, try to be a little bit quieter so we don't disturb any residents nearby."

"My apologies my bride!" He nodded as he took another bite, yelling TASTY again, but notably quieter. You smiled as you watched him eat bun after bun while shouting TASTY after each bite he took. You don't know for sure why, but watching him enjoy something as simple as steamed buns so happily made you feel happy also.

But as you watched him eat, his earlier words popped up in your mind. His bride. You? You honestly still couldn't quite believe it. You? Seriously? You glanced at the man who sat next to you and asked, "Hey, Kyojuro?"

"Yes, my beloved?" He stopped eating to look at you and you suddenly felt pretty insecure. "Can I ask something?"

"Please do!"

"Earlier today, when we first met, you said you chose me to become your wife..." You were filled with uncertainty as you looked down at your hanging feet, "Out of all the possible people there are, you really chose me?"

"Yes!" He said without a pause or hesitation.

"Why?" You cleared your throat as you figured out another way to put your question, "Just...! Are you sure you want me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not the prettiest or smartest woman there is. Don't you want your wife to match your high status?" You frowned, feeling saddened by your own thoughts and words... And Kyojuro didn't allow any of that.

"But you do match!" He exclaimed and you were startled by how honest he sounded, "What?"

"You are beautiful and kind! I could tell that the moment I saw your picture and I knew that moment that you're the woman I want to marry!"

"But I'm-!"

"Gorgeous, unique, and honest!" Kyojuro nodded, "You could have turned me and my brother away, but you accepted and welcomed us right away!"

It wasn't like you could refuse, you had signed the contract, but you guess he was right, you could have been nasty to him and Senjuro, but you weren't raised to be like that.

You grew up always giving people a chance and being open-minded. That, and you couldn't tell why, but you got his good feeling when you looked at the Rengoku brothers. Like you were all meant to be together.

"You're awfully honest." You chuckled as you were getting a little of your more hopeful and positive attitude back. Kyojuro nodded happily as he smiled brightly, "As your fiance, it's my duty to love and care for you!

Fiance... The word brought up so many feelings and so many questions. Well, you were already talking about these things so why not dive deeper into the conversation and learn more about him?

"How do you feel about getting married?"

"I'm excited!" Kyojuro said happily, "I wish great things from marriage, just like my father's and mother's!"

"I see." You got curious, "So your parents are also Kitsunes?"

"Yes, both father and mother have all nine tails they can acquire!"

"Wow, so you and Senjuro are pure Kitsunes?" You asked and Kyojuro nodded, and you expected him to talk about their family line, but instead, he fell quiet and you got worried. It didn't feel like a normal thing for him to be this quiet.

Finally, he spoke, "Now as we are talking, I must admit, there is another reason for my marriage than just to strengthen our Yokai's and humans' bond."

"Oh?" You felt like this was a sensitive topic so you didn't try to pry, but you found out you didn't need to as Kyojuro continued his tale.

"Long time ago, our mother fell ill. Every yokai tried to help her, but there was nothing to be done... With each passing day, mother turned weaker and weaker and she became all skin and bones..."

"Oh no..." You frowned as you listened to this sad story of his.

"But then, a human appeared one day and offered their help to us. Father didn't believe in humans, but we were losing hope and getting desperate so we allowed the human to try and help our mother." Kyojuro nodded as he turned to look at you and he smiled.

"That day, our mother ate for the first time in ages and she started to slowly gain her strength back. She would have no doubt died if it wasn't for this one kind human who brought her the medicine that cured her."

"Oh wow, that is amazing...!" You murmured happily as you heard that the story had a good ending. The Kitsune nodded happily, "So the reason I wanted to marry a human was because of both gratitude and love."

"But I'm not human who helped your mother," You frowned, "Shouldn't you marry them instead of me?"

"While I am eternally thankful for that human, they passed away a long time ago. Or, well, that is what I heard. Instead, I wanted to marry one as kind and genuine as the human who helped my family." Kyojuro turned to look at you, smiling like a sun in the middle of the night. "Someone just like you."

"Wh- what!?" You stuttered as you blushed. You wanted to talk, you wanted to reply, do anything, but it appeared that your brains weren't functioning right when given such sincere compliments.

"So...!" Kyojuro got up from his swing and you watched eyes wide how he humbly bowed to you. "Thank you for taking me and my beloved brother in and caring for us!"

"P- please don't bow to me! Aren't we equals?" You asked, remembering what he had told you earlier that day when you had called him Lord.

"Ah, pardon me!" The Kitsune straightened up and nodded, "I just couldn't help myself from expressing how happy I am to be living with you!"

"W- well..." You were still blushing as you looked aside, "I don't mind, you are very kind to me and Senjuro is so sweet."

"You're so kind and caring!" Kyojuro smiled proudly and nodded, "Truly, you would make a perfect mother!"

"W- wait, what!?" You snapped your gaze at your fiance, feeling your cheeks burn like there was lava below your skin instead of blood. The damn fox had the guts to laugh, "You look adorable when you are embarrassed!"

"Mother!?" You cried out, "W- We barely know each other and we are already talking about having kids!?"

"To be fair, you know much more about my and Senjuro's past than we know about yours!" Kyojuro pointed out and you winched. He was right, so far you had heard about his past, but you hadn't shared anything from yours.

What to tell, what to tell...? You wondered what you should tell her about your past, but that is when you noticed the empty bag that was filled with steamed buns just a little while ago.

"Are you done with the pizza buns?" You asked and the man nodded, "Hm! Yes, I ate the last one quite some time ago! They were delicious!"

"Then we should head back to the house, in case Senjuro wakes up and can't find either of us there." You said as you jumped off the swing and grabbed your grocery bags.

Kyojuro looked like he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue and rushed to grab the bags from you. "Allow me to carry them!"

"I can take at least one of them-!" You were saying as you reached for the other bag but the fox yanked the bags away from your reach, "No, as a man I will carry my bride's belongings!"

"Kyojuro," You said and he nodded, "Yes my Hime?"

"I promise, I will tell you about my past once I can." You promised as he stared at you with those gorgeous eyes of his. Finally, he nodded, "I trust in you to do so."

"I just have to warn you, it's nothing as interesting as your family's story!" You chuckled lightly as you looked forward to the road. The man nodded, "It doesn't matter if it's interesting or not! One day you are going to be my wife and I want to know as much as I can about you!"

You blinked, once again finding yourself gawking at how open this fox was about his feelings. You grumbled a little as you continued your walk toward your shared house... Only to see that all the lights were on in the middle of the night.

"What the-?" You blinked and that is when you remembered that Senjuro was alone. Fearing for the worst, you rushed inside, Kyojuro following just behind you.

"Senjuro-oO!" As soon as you opened the door and stepped inside you felt something hit your stomach and you went down like a dead tree. You felt the air being knocked out of your lungs as your back hit the ground and you groaned, hitting the back of your head on the floor.

"Senjuro!" Kyojuro gasped and you looked down... And saw a small and most adorable fox lying on your stomach. You blinked as you and the fox stared at each until you noticed the familiar golden and red eyes.

"S- Senjuro?" You asked and suddenly there was a puff of smoke and you groaned, feeling the weight on your stomach turn heavier. Once the smoke dissolved, you saw Senjuro himself sitting on your stomach.

"Senjuro?" You called his name and the poor boy was on the brink of tears.

"I- I woke up but no one was here so I tried looking around and I got scared when I couldn't find you two...!" He stuttered as he tried his hardest not to cry but it was a battle that he was losing.

Out of nowhere, you felt your maternal instincts kick in and you quickly pushed yourself up so were sitting and hugged the dear shy boy, who pressed his face against the crook of your neck as you held him in your arms.

"I'm so sorry, we shouldn't have left you alone, it's my fault..." You murmured as you gently rocked him from side to side while petting his golden hair, minding his tall ears that were pressed so low against his head.

"No, I'm the one at fault in here!" Kyojuro exclaimed as he kneeled next to you two, "I shouldn't have left you alone like that. I'm so sorry Senjuro...!"

"It's- it's alright..." The younger fox nodded as he pulled away from the hug, "I- I'm sorry for being like this..."

"No no, nothing is your fault..." You said gently as you smiled, "Being here alone must have been so scary, but you are so brave!"

"I am...?" He blinked and you smiled, "Yes, you are. Much more than you may believe."

"Can I...?" The young fox sniffled as he glanced at the older fox, "Can I sleep today with you brother?"

Kyojuro smiled and nodded immediately, "Of course!"

The man helped his little brother up on his feet before helping you up as well. You looked at the two of them and smiled, admiring their brotherly bond. Suddenly you felt like yawning, but you held it in and took off your shoes.

"You two go ahead and get some sleep." You smiled as you looked at them, "I'll put the groceries away and then go to sleep also."

"Promise?" Kyojuro asked, referring to your earlier promise about sleep that you didn't exactly keep. You raised your hand up and another over your heart, "I promise and I mean it this time."

"Go ahead and into my room Senjuro. I'll be right there." Kyojuro said and his younger brother nodded as he climbed the stairs up and disappeared from your view. You glanced at the older brother who was looking at you with this gaze you didn't quite know or understand.

"What?"

"I told you that you would make a great mother." He said with a kind smile before wishing you good night and following his brother upstairs. You blinked as your brains registered his words and a soft blush to your cheeks.

A mom... You shook your head, trying to chase those fluffy feelings away before you grabbed the grocery bags and went to take them to the kitchen. It didn't take long before all the bags were empty and the fridge was half full with some proper food and some snacks that Kyojuro had picked out of curiosity.

You glanced at the clock on your phone. 1 am. Boy, you were late out there. You stretched your arms high up in the air, feeling those tense muscles on your shoulders ease up a little bit. After your shoulders felt better, you made your way upstairs, but on your way to your room, you stopped by Kyojuro's room and carefully opened the door to take a peek.

The brothers were soundly asleep, Senjuro in his big brother's arms, safe from any harm that the world could inflict on them. You smiled at the sight before closing the door gently and going to your room.

Boy, what a mess it was with all the moving boxes. You would have your hands full for the next couple of days and not just with your stuff, but also teaching the foxes how to live in the modern world.

Somehow, you weren't that scared of that. No, you were looking forward to it.

#rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku senjuro #rengoku x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kitsune #nine taled fox #monster musume!AU #Monster Musume #reader #Reader insert #my writing #story #my story #Fem!Reader #ENJOY!

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riddlecrux · 2 years

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our souls are knit into one

Chapter I (ao3), Chapter II Aemond Targaryen & Lyrra Stark (OC) Summary: As far as her knowledge of beauty goes, the second prince reminds her of the icy wilderness of the northern lands - his hair white as the snowflakes dancing on the cold air, his one eye lavender like the sunsets under Weirwood tree. Standing in the shadows of the princess’ chamber, she listens to his voice, a softness of snow under her feet resonating in the bones of her small body. An oddity, for sure - that a prince of flames could look like the ice cravings of the old northern tales.

i ( I loved you before I was born. It doesn't make sense, I know)

There is no iciness of the air, no fresh grass moving under her feet. There is nothing that reminds her of her home, of its cold yet warm landscapes and snowflakes drifting in the winter’s daze on the broad daylight. If the North was a desolate kingdom, full of magnificent coldness which she gladly accepted as part of her bloodstream, the South was a blazing inferno of dust and hot stickiness clinging to her body.

The heat barely manageable creeps upon her from every side as she ventures towards the looming steps of the Red Keep. The yellow stone in which it is built, shines like a wheat on a spring field in the unforgiving sun, blinding her eyes while she squints to admire the architectonic monster before her - it's truly dreadful, too big and too lavish.

Nothing like the wooden keeps of her family land.

‘One would think they shit in gold,’ one of banner men behind her snorts, gaining a hearty laughter coming from different sides of the entourage. A quick glance behind her shoulder and the joy evaporates from their tired faces. It must be done, she muses as she averts her eyes and clenches the hem of her long sleeves. If a disrespect were to be found within their group - she fears that her presence would be a rather sour reminder of that, and she wouldn’t have that.

Her uncle, rarely emotional and large in his grand persona, was reluctant to let her go, to let her enter the dragon’s den while being a lone wolf. A one that instead of fangs had moth’s fragile wings that could be snapped in a twitch of a wrist, if anyone dared. Indeed, what was better than to pretend to be a thing her family banner stands for, rather than cover behind her own foolish fear and never lasting dreams. She often thinks that if she hadn’t possessed any of her uncle’s strength nor her brother’s sharp as knife wit, she must have gathered characteristics of her mother.

Thinking about her made Lyrra hurt - her heart would squeeze in the small cage of her bones, and something would break inside her with a thundering sound of cries and pleas. No one spoke about her mother, not even a gust of wind - she was laid in the stone, forever uncaring in her perpetual state of nothingness. So, Lyrra carried on, her whole life tainted by the death she has caused, like a stigma planted on her before she could even breathe.

‘Lady Stark, I presume?’ a grating voice slashes the space which has consumed her inner thoughts. A large, handsome man in a glittering armor stands before her, his sword trapped under his gloved hand. His brown, intelligent eyes stop at her clan folks and if she had to guess - he had probably already counted how many of them hover behind her back.

She catches her dress and curtsy with a slight smile on her lips. ‘The road was a long one, but I’m here on the Queen’s command,’ Lyrra’s posture flatters when he steps down and makes her a way towards the brownish door.

His baritone breaks another silence that occurs in the courtyard. ‘I shall lead the way. The Queen is waiting,’ before she can muster an acknowledgment his cloak swirls on the floor, long strands of his hair falling from its place. She casts an assessing look to her guards and follows through the stone hall of misery she knows lays somewhere deep inside it.

ii ( I saw your eyes before I had eyes to see )

After a quick talk with the Queen Alicent her duties are laid before her, a greatly important ones , the Queen says with a playful smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

She’s beautiful, the woman in front of her. But beneath that loveliness Lyrra sees something broken, scarred - a flicker of hidden emotions arrive at the mask of royalty only to disparate when another information sweeps past through her redden lips.

She listens and nods - not so much talking on her part, and what is to believe a necessary trait for a princess's lady in waiting. Her fingers tremble under the grayish sleeve when the Queen’s stare turns into a calculating one. Assessing her person must have been the first thing she had wanted - the most sought one, of course, her being a pivotal wager that holds her kin’s interest in that side of the coin. The faces of war she has witnessed were only feather like memories of flour and mud slapped against her cheeks while running through kitchens of Winterfell along with her brother. Never has she thought that she will be standing here, in the Red Keep, as a token of war - not the most important one, but one nevertheless.

‘My daughter is quite peculiar,’ Alicent’s face twists, and she can spot a motherly concern shining underneath the Queen’s armor. ‘But as meek as she is, she is my blood and I wish her to be well taken care of,’ her palm rests under her chin when the green dress explodes in its color as the rays of sun slip through the window. ‘I trust you with my most treasured child,’ there is a vulnerability in her voice, a tether of love so pure and strong that Lyrra almost tastes its power on her tongue.

She nods, silently and obediently. ‘I shall keep princess’s happiness and content at the most regard,’ the room basks in the sunlight, but the heat is slowly driving her mad. The beads of sweat travel down her spine, woolen clothes drinking its liquid like a sponge.

Alicent’s gaze returns to her eyes as if she was looking for some treacherous attempt at flattery, probing and testing her with prolonged silence.

‘I trust you will accommodate rather quickly. You look like a smart girl,’ a knowing spark passes between them, and Lyrra nods.

The pawn has been placed on the chessboard.

iii (And I've lived longing for your ever look ever since)

Lyrra doesn’t count days. Each one, warm and tedious, wanes in contrast to the nights during which she stares at the unmoving landscape of her gilded prison. For what the fancy dresses and beautiful chambers are - but nothing like a prison that holds her with the contempt of changing the tides of power. She supposes that maybe her aloof demeanor is what the Queen was after, maybe her silence accompanied princess Helaena well.

As for the princess, Lyrra is content - her silver haired companion is nothing but a lovely lady. She’s as sweet as lemon cakes and winter sugar drops. Her words tumble out of her in incoherent sentences, but the sheer joy Lyrra feels whenever the older girl smiles at her makes up for all the longing she harbors inside of her heart. If anyone saw them, they would have thought that both her and princess were inseparable friends since their childhood - that’s how close they became during her time here.

They usually spend days on walking through the gardens, sitting under the trees and watching insects crawling down the bark - the princess presenting her facts about these little friends with a blushing face and wild grin on her pale face. She likes those moments, when the worry vanishes from her body and mind. When she can pretend that she’s back in the North under the red leaves of her home.

The court is oddly silent, but to her dismay, it won’t be long before it erupts in a political blizzard.

iv ( that longing entered time as this body )

The first time she sees Helaena’s husband is also the first time she is met with the second prince.

They are oddities, she thinks as she looks between the brothers - one sharp as an arrow, the other one almost lifeless in his boredom. While trying to pinpoint the differences, her mind stops as an inward and pompous idea clouds her judgment. As far as her knowledge of beauty goes, the second prince reminds her of the icy wilderness of the northern lands - his hair white as the snowflakes dancing on the cold air, his one eye lavender like the sunsets under Weirwood tree. Standing in the shadows of the princess’ chamber, she listens to his voice, a softness of snow under her feet resonating in the bones of her small body. An oddity, for sure - that a prince of flames could look like the ice cravings of the old northern tales.

‘Does the North see summer?’ The question startles her, and with a start she moves towards the table and sets the tea before the Targaryen siblings. The crown prince stares at her with disinterest, but an uneasy feeling circles under her ribs when he awaits for her answer.

‘Not the warmest one, I say, my prince,’ her fingers shake when she pours the tea into his white cup. ‘It’s mostly cold,’ she adds, moving to the second prince’s side. He smells of leather and sandalwood, his eye watching her even though she is far beyond his peripheral vision. Averting her own eyes, she spots scars traveling across his hands, deeper ones disappearing between his knuckles.

A short snort stops her movements. ‘They say winter cunts are as cold as the landscape. It seems ‘twas truth,’ her spine prickles with a heat of embarrassment. She quickly puts a luxurious piece of tart on the princess’s plate and goes back to the shadows of her solitude. She could stand and engage in the conversation with them, her status allowed her so, but the terror she feels next to the Aegon makes up her mind.

There is something twisted in his eyes when he probes the surrounding her darkness. A wicked sort of cruelty shines in the violet of his irises as he sips the tea she poured.

The other eye that watches her - burns.

v (the longing will outlive this body)

‘Do you wish to see your brother train?’ Lyrra’s hands are full of Helaena’s silver hair, an attempt at a braid on the top of her small head. She squirms a little, holding a centipede on her tiny finger with a soft smile ghosting on her full lips.

‘Yes,’ she wiggles her palm and the insect crawls onto the wooden surface of the vanity. ‘I long to be in the open space,’ the princess pats Lyrra’s wrist with an encouragement.

Sometimes Helaena surprises her. Not only with riddles she waves into simple conversations, but also with her unyielding love and support for her scarred brother. If she talks about her childhood, it’s only prince Aemond present in all these stories, and if anything the way she presents those tales make him sound like a knight of dreams every young woman held onto in some time of her naive period of romantic influence.

‘Then we should scurry before the training ends,’ the younger girl whispers with a sly smirk.

A shrill laughter erupts from Helaena’s mouth before she runs towards the training grounds, Lyrra a few steps behind her. Her loose hair trailing behind her, golden-brown tresses shining in the sunlight like a banner of her heart.

In these moments, she forgets about the place she’s in, she forgets the scorching heat bearing down upon her and all the sounds of raging dragons flying above her head. She forgets about the burden of her presence at the court and wishes these fleeting seconds of freedom and happiness would last longer than drawing one’s breath.

She stumbles behind Heleana, her arms going up to her shoulders to steady herself - the older woman giggling at the disarray of not lady like behavior. Both of them seem to need a breather after their spontaneous run, a joy written on their flushed faces.

‘I’m afraid your hairdo is lost and gone somewhere in the corridors,’ Lyrra smiles, watching princess shake her head to tumble her hair forward. ‘You don’t like it plaited, do you?’ She asks, knowing the answer.

‘It’s dreadful,’ the lavender hue of her eyes sparkle in the day’s warmth. A small crease arrives at her beautiful face, leaning forward on the stone balustrade the princess quickly grips Lyrra’s hand. Their feet tapping the stairs so fast that their skirts barely leave any traces of their mischief.

There is a small circle surrounding two men fighting, a lot of screeching and yelling coming from the crowd, but what catches Lyrra’s attention is the silver of hair flying inside that brawl.

‘Aemond is a great swordsman,’ his sister provides, elbowing through the young boys. ‘We should watch,’ her voice is soft but Lyrra hears it anyway. When they finally stop in the closer ring of the watchers, her view expands and to her utter astonishment, the second prince is stripped of his shirt. His pale body moves like a wild serpent, gleaming in sweat that drops from his tall frame - the beads looking like diamonds under the blazing sun. He is swift with his sword, as if he was a part of it somehow. A unity of agility and precision, sharp as the needle.

The beauty of the duel stuns her, the sounds escaping him echo through her with an unknown to her feeling - a warmth, spreading under her skin, one not related to the heat of the King's Landing. Her throat quivers, a soft sound escaping her mouth when the prince disarms his opponent, the tip of his weapon aimed at the vein on the fellow’s neck.

‘By now you would have been dead,’ his silky voice is deadly, an underlying iron edging on the border of insanity sweeps through his lips. ‘One strike,’ he adds with a theatrical shove.

When the people start to clap, Lyrra finds her unable to tear her gaze away from the expanse of his almost white skin. His muscles working and twisting, tendons stretching without difficulty. It’s as fascinating as it is dangerous. He is, she muses.

‘And why would two ladies find themselves here?’ She’s sure that he hadn’t looked in their direction at all. He couldn’t have done that with just one eye, at least. It’s primal, some sort of emotion that tears at her chest when she slowly exhales.

‘The one who maims the wolf, loses his hand,’ Helaena’s cryptic sentence brings Lyrra back to the training yard, and with a whirlwind of feelings she slowly touches her princess. ‘ A debt almost paid,’ her lips are barely moving, eyes wide open staring at the blue sky unblinkingly. ‘ The beast will make the fire rain upon us,’ then she slumps against her, silver locks twisted from the heat and exhaustion.

‘We shall return to the chambers, my princess,’ cooing to her, Lyrra catches Aemond’s stare.

She doesn’t know if the sun burns her more or if it’s his eye.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader

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poetryinsilence · 2 years

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Noughts and Crosses - Jake “Hangman” Seresin - childhood friend!reader (part IV)

A/n: SMUT, please this is a warning sign. (smut but kinda vague since smut is not my forté :p) Here we are, the last chapter of this saga :))) I love cocky Hangman vibes, but also domestic Jake gets me. Finally, no beta read still very raw :)

Summary: What's supposed to happen now that Jake is all healed and granted permission to go back to Top Gun? He can't decipher what you're feeling but neither can yourself...

Wc: 3,493

part I | part II | part III

A huge sigh of relief washes over you after the past couple of weeks hectic scheduling and catering at your place. Jake is finally cast-free, which means no more itches that can’t be scratched for him, but to you, this also means he can finally clean up after himself. But a new plan is fitted into your checklist. Now every two to three days, you have to take Jake to his physiotherapy appointments. It is exactly like dropping your kids off at kindergarten. Sometimes, you would pick him up after his appointment and he would tell— no, complain about his day. Other times, you would stay with Jake as he’s regaining his motion. Seeing him straining in pain doesn’t sit right with you.

Over the course of that, he recovered his traction and agility. He’d be up before the first peek of sunlight spilling through the blinds, dressed and prepared for his run of the day. Then, you’d groggily waddle to the kitchen and see he’d already made breakfast for you, with a smile and a wink.

You anxiously twiddle your thumbs, looming behind Jake as he listens intently to the doctor relaying every word. Both showed nothing but smiles and exchanged laughter. As the conversation comes to a close, the doctor signs their full permission for Jake to go back to Top Gun again.

Of course, you are happy for him. He can finally go back to doing what he loves. Flying in a jet and defying gravity, showing the world what he's made of, got a crew that will watch his back, even when you're not there. And you, you'll get the house back to yourself again and you no longer have to clean up after him. And maybe you guys will meet up again after another 20 years. You'll have your own animal shelter then, and he; he will be promoted and rise up the ranks. And you'll tell him that you're happy for him.

Are you happy for him?

Jake bumps your shoulder and snaps you out of your intruding thoughts, looking up to find yourself halfway across the fully packed parking lot. Your vision wanders around to piece together how you got here.

Jake's voice rings in your ear. "I'm taking these."

You whip around to search for his face but he'd already snatched the keys you didn't remember that were in your hands and with a skip to their steps. Grasp acting a minute too late, you only caught the thin air in your hands.

"Hey!"

"I'm driving, whether you like it or not. It's time to bring these bad boys to action again." he smirked, exaggerating his stretch.

You lovingly rolled your eyes and tailed behind him. It's not bad being in the passenger seat once in a while. Your gaze shifts from what you would normally see; zoning out on licence plates and mismatched asphalts, but here on the passenger's side, you take in everything outside of the frame. The panoramic sky meets the horizon, palm trees reaching for the heavens, and the ocean as blue as it can be.

Jake steals a glance or two over in your direction, the silhouette of you basking in the fiery red aglow from the setting sun; hand tucked underneath your chin as you dream with the landscape passing you by, wind picking up your now burning red hair with the scent of July air, while some rock ballad plays softly on the radio. Sometimes, he noticed, how his eyes wander to you unintentionally, just like a moth to a flame, making his heart trip over its own rhythm. But, he would catch himself before you'd caught him doing so.

"Hey, uh, I think tonight calls for a celebration for my speedy recovery. Whadaya think?” He said.

You pulled away from the blurry scenes to face him. You nod hesitantly. “Sure, where do you wanna go?”

He shrugs. “We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Home is fine. Let’s just order takeouts and chill.”

You let out a breathy smile and shake your head. “So, just like any other regular day then?”

“You’re right. But the difference is, I can drink again. And I won’t lie, I’m dying for a beer.” The corners of his lips are pulled to uncover a toothy grin that plays into your memory. But the thoughts of him returning to Top Gun nags at the back of your mind, and the queasy feeling bubbles at the pit of your stomach. Maybe tonight is all the time you have left with him.

Your living room isn’t exactly small; it could fit a good amount of creatures and creatures akin— maybe a dozen or so. However, the absurd amount of food Jake decided to order made your room seemingly feel like you are packed like sardines in a can. They even had to send two delivery guys just to turn this into one short trip.

A variety of food sprawled out along the coffee table, all decoratively half-eaten. Jake snickers at the dialogues played out from the flat screen while sinking into the final bite of his burrito. You couldn’t focus on what was on the screen as your thoughts pulled you in and out of the spiral; about you, about Jake, about what comes after.

You took another sip of wine that was sitting gingerly on the armrest and bite a piece of cake that’s been placed on your lap for the past twenty minutes, barely making a dent.

“What, it’s not to your liking?” His gravelly voice seeks its way to you.

Vision flickers down to the sweet treat, your brows furrow as you shake your head to deny his statement.

“No, it’s—“ the words got caught in your throat, filtering through what might be the best answer for this. You don't dislike the cake; it's the right amount of sugar, but cherry anything does not belong in cakes. Now it tastes like—

"You're thinking it tastes like a couch, aren't you?" he booped the apples of your cheek, laughing out like a child. A cool, tacky residue melts with the heat of your skin, as you watch Jake licks off the remaining whipped cream off his finger.

Your eyes widen in horror, catching his wrist in your firm grasp. "Jake Seresin, you—"

The weight of him presses up against your body, closing whatever distance there was left between you and him over the couch. The warmth of his tongue grazes the surface of your silky skin from where the mess he made, the aftermath of his heat still lingers on your mind after its departure. The action alone made you jolt backwards but you were met with the armrest, entrapping you just inches away from him.

Questions firing rapidly in your mind, everything's muddled, fuzzy...entranced. His chromatic evergreen is raptured by the dark rings, you flicker between them in search of a rational answer. But, all you find is lust behind those eyes. The want of needing you, above all things.

Your grip slips, but in exchange, he's on yours. In one killing motion, he tugs you; like gravity, finding purchase on your lips. The sonorous feeling colours you in irisated colours, like a burn that warms your chest. Even so, you wanna know the answer to why. Why now?

Jake savours the sensation of you, just a sliver of cherry flavour residing could get his blood rushing to his head. What would happen to him if got to taste more of you? His hunger grew impatient. The slick of his tongue ran along the outline of your mouth, the resistance of you knew the danger if you went further with this. But, temptation tugs on your sleeves. Maybe just a peek wouldn't hurt.

"Don't think." the words hummed like a bassline from his chest.

Those were all you needed to part your lips under his command, giving in to your desires and the emptiness you've felt in his twenty-year absence. Your hands find their way entangled in his silken strands as he devours you deeper into the kiss, tongue tangled in searing heat. His hand searches its way to the side of your breast and tiptoes down to the curve, accentuating goosebumps under his touch. He reaches down, toying with the hem of your t-shirt and slips underneath. His fingertips slowly tread the skin that made you snap into a wake-up call, hands stopping him firmly on his chest. He pulls away.

"You—I...we're both drunk. This is a mistake..."

"Why do you keep taking yourself out of the equation when things feel right? Hm? This...this isn't a mistake. You're always too slow to realise some things, or maybe you're just scared to admit to it."

His lips pursed into a fine line and he let out a heavy sigh through his nose.

"You always kept me at an arm’s length; even when we were kids, you had a fear of getting hurt. But, you have no idea you're hurting other people in the process. And so, I let go. Thought that you would be happier and I'll burden this to myself. Every part of it.

His eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment, and the ambivalent feeling reverberated from his words. You don't know what to think, don't know how to feel. You never knew how he felt.

"I never stop thinking about you. Every minute of the day. It's always been you. D'you know how happy I was when I heard you moved here? I immediately wanted to reach out to you, but what am I supposed to say? Time stretched between us for too fucking long, and god, I hated myself because I don't want to be a stranger to you.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words could come out. All you could do is stare dumbfoundedly as he pours all his feelings out in this speck of time.

"So, I took a chance—the biggest and riskiest chance. I prayed that it shouldn't have come to this, but lo and behold, someone answered my prayers, in exchange for a part of me."

Anger courses through your veins after what you've just perceived, and you shake your head in frustration.

"You can't say that! D'you know how fucking terrified I was; hearing you almost lost your goddamn life?! That I was gonna be the one that had to tell your mother that her son's gone. I cannot face her for the rest of my life." you choked.

"It was a stupid chance, but one to go as far as to realise what one would do for love. And I do. Always have, always will. And you need to accept that this is real between us."

Jake gently pushes a lost strand of hair behind your ear and cups your face, making your heart burn with an ache.

"It's okay to let yourself fall...because I do fucking love you. And it's not going to change."

The pad of his thumb swipes the tears you hadn't noticed that's been cascading down your cheek. You don’t know how long you’ve kept that feeling buried deep within you, but knowing that you can finally let go of all the fears and worries; knowing that you’re safe to fall into his arms is the best you have ever felt in your entire life. You can finally come to terms with that four-letter word that you always thought would never bestow on you—love.

How simple it is to feel, yet difficult it is to find. But it was always there, right in front of you. You just had to let go of your own reins.

His lips gravitate to yours once more, being certain and assertive with his intentions. His hands slip under, wasting no time, and pulling your t-shirt over your head and discarding it one side. His kisses trail along the underside of your jawline, leaving a searing hot sensation with every press of his lips. The gentle graze of his teeth nips the most delicate part of your skin, earning him an arousal moan out of you.

“I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You giggled at his temperament, watching how the slightest of moan could get him weak on his knees, anything else you do would make him beg for you. It took you less than a second to rip his shirt off and add it to the pile of clothing on the floor that’s building its way up. Before you know it, you both are observing one another’s naked figure, drinking in the outline of every curve and muscle. And the sight laid in front of you heats up a flame to your core.

Lips create a trail inch by inch down along your collarbone and carefully take in each breast, and tongue laps; drawing circles at your peak, rolling it in between his teeth. You gasp at the sensation, all too foreign but enticing you even more so. Hands slithering to the back of your knees, taking this invitation to entangle your legs around his rigid waist, rolling your hip against his growing member.

He bites down on his lips to stifle a groan. His dark eyes whip up and bore into you as a warning, playing too closely with fire and you might get burned by it. But what is love without a little burning flame?

He guides himself to your entrance, soaked with a sheen from just a few sloppy kisses. His breath hissed, having a taste with just the tip. But he can’t have you without your permission. You peered at him with heavily hooded eyes, dazed out from your high, you nod as a sign of approval. He slowly pushes in with ease; slick coated him as you devour him deeper, feeling a stretch of pain and pleasure as your body pressed up against his.

“Fuck—“ your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades and branded his back with long streaks of crimson. The copper scent muddles your brain, all your thoughts dressed in white but shrouds your sight in red, loose lips calling out his name in a sultry voice. The grip of his conscience slips loose from him cursing under his breath, knowing the effect you have on him, threatening to come undone by just simply moaning his name. If the heavens witness this entanglement, angels would clip their wings to just get a little taste of you.

The air thickened and entangled with heat vapours and desperate pleas; heavy breaths roll and veil your skin, rippling a shiver down your spine. His pace sunders and hips keep in time with you, each wave bringing you closer and closer to your high, twitching under his commotion. Your breath draws short, catching his attention to your finish line.

"I-I can't—"

The air in your lungs hitches as your mind sears in white hot vision, toes curl and twitch in ecstasy and screaming out his name like your own prayer. Jake follows shortly behind, bucking into you with a tender moan and soft cursing in your hair, dampened by the beads of sweat. He collapses on top of you for a short moment, before rolling to his side and pulling you closer to him, examining every little detail of your face.

In turn, you cup his face and trace little circles beneath his eye, gravitating your lips and capturing his, delicate and feverish, imprinting a piece of you for him to take, and filling the missing piece of your soul, even if you parted with him.

His lids drift close, pressing his forehead against yours, searching for your comfort and dreaming of you as he sleeps.

You hummed, whispering under your breath, "I love you, Jake Seresin."

Funny how you've never expected yourself to be in the middle of a desert. Nor go anywhere near a military station, yet here we are; fingers drumming along the steering wheel, at the gates just outside of Fightertown. You look over to Jake; his foot tapping anxiously against the floor of your Yugo. Now he won't even fucking look at you.

"Will you stop sulking for two minutes?" you sigh, twisting your body to face his silhouette.

Jake finally turns to meet your gaze; chewing the inside of his cheek to suppress his annoyance. "No. Now I'm regretting everything."

You smirk at his childlike remark, clasping a hand on his shoulder and giving it a good squeeze. "Jackal, you know this was going to happen. So why are you regretting it now?"

"Because I only had you, officially, for what, 7-8 hours? And now I have to go back to work." He reaches up and takes your hand in his, leaning in, giving you a small kiss in between your knuckles. He sighs. "I don't wanna leave you yet, cupcake."

His little sympathetic frown pasted on his face, and the shine to his olive green eyes could almost break your heart in two. Almost. Your lips quivered, expressing the most dramatic faux sniffle and said, "Aw, honey." Your face grows cold. "I've only had two hours of sleep, if I stayed in bed with you anymore, I think my back will finally give out."

"Oh, was I that good?" the shit-eating grin returns. You hate to admit it, but that obnoxious, Hollywood smile is starting to grow on you. What kind of dark magic has he cast on you to make you fall hopelessly for him? He caused nothing but trouble, still, you can't help but love his handsome face and his cocky attitude. Especially his annoying quality and the blue, frail bits that he embodies.

A blast of a car horn snaps you both out of your little theatrical play, and your gaze flicks towards where the sound originated from. You watched as a tan uniformed man struts out from the Jeep; deep, chocolate skin with specks of gold shimmering off from the sun. Oh shit. Do all aviators look that good? You swipe the corner of your mouth to make sure you're not drooling.

"Y/n, honey. I'm still the one you love right?" Jake looks back and forth between you and the pilot, with a mild concern in his tone of voice.

"Mhm. Yep. Still yours." You nod vigorously, eyes wide as you connect with him. But Jake still isn't convinced.

"Seriously, I promise...now get out, Seresin." you draped yourself over him and pushed the car door open, an opportunity to give him another good glance of your ass in those tight-fitted jeans as an affirmation.

He whistles. "Alright, they can't survive without me anyway." Slinking the army green duffle bag over his shoulder, he gives you a final wink before greeting his teammate, pulling him into a hug and a slap on the back. You watched as Jake whispers something into his ear and they both turn to look at you. The pilot drew a million-watt smile.

"Y/n, right? Coyote. Heard a lot about you." he announced.

"Ah, so you're Coyote. Heard a lot about you too. Nice to meet you in the flesh!" You leaned forward, sending him a small wave. Jake wasn't lying, a wild Coyote appeared right in front of your eyes. Even much better than what you imagined.

"Well, I'll keep in touch," Jake grimaced.

You nod, lips pressed together, choking back a tear that's threatening to escape. You got used to his presence, the confidence and his admiration, now you felt empty without it.

"Oh, and also," His quick steps jog back to you, a hand slips under your jaw and tilts you to meet with his gaze. He dips, locking into a kiss, with your eyes closed to feel the tenderness and savour this feverish dream. He reluctantly parts with you, the remnant of forlorn feelings lingers but he pulls away from you before he starts having second thoughts. Jake makes his way back, without detaching your face from his sight.

"By the way, your mother gave us her blessing. And I really think we should consider adopting Captain...he's starting to grow on me." He said, coolly.

"Uh, what?"

"What?!"

The shock of information dumped onto you left you and Coyote's mouths hanging wide open. Even the guard standing watch was stunned by what he just witnessed. The disconnection between your brain and ears entangled your thoughts. You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around what you just heard. And you hope you heard it wrong. But Jake just nods gleefully, witnessing the shade of red building up on your face.

"See you on Saturday!" Jake yells, a cheerful singsong to his voice, happily laughing to himself as they drive off, leaving you stunned in the trail of dust kicked up from the Jeep.

Here, you promise and swore to yourself, that the next time you see Jake, you will lovingly choke the ever-living life out of him. Saturday couldn't come any sooner.

P.S: Thank you for sticking with me till the end of the series(?) I don't write fanfic much, this was originally supposed to be a 2-3k fic and somehow I self-indulged too much and magically turned into an 11k series...😅 I've read every tag and comments y'all wrote and I am very thankful for it, it makes me so happy!

Tag: @shanimallina87 @itzyogurl92 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dempy

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun #top gun maverick #tg fic #tgm fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #⭐️.doc

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