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ijustmissyouraccenths · 5 days

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I Want To Kill Her

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 2

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink.

Word Count: 6,773

Growing up in America was a constant uphill battle for me. Every day, my family's lower middle class status weighed heavily on our shoulders, dragging us down and suffocating any sense of hope. Despite my parents' relentless efforts, we were always one step away from financial ruin. At school, I was painfully reminded of my economic disadvantage as I trudged through the halls in threadbare clothes and drove up in a battered car that served as a target for cruel jokes and vicious teasing from my more privileged peers. But amidst the constant struggle, I found refuge in my studies. The world of academia offered a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of my daily life, where I poured all my energy into excelling and proving my worth to a society that seemed determined to keep me down.

Life in our small town was like a broken record, repeating the same monotonous routine day after day. That is, until Teddy waltzed into our midst like a breath of fresh air. His tall frame stood out amongst the sea of ordinary faces, and his crisp British accent was music to our ears. The local coffee shop suddenly became a buzz of excitement as he charmed everyone with his wit and sophistication. And when he extended an invitation for me to join him in London, it was like a fairytale come to life. Leaving my predictable life behind and starting anew in the bustling city seemed intimidating, but I couldn't resist the allure of adventure and passion that awaited me with Teddy by my side.

My hand shook as I clutched the small, worn suitcase. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye to my family and familiar life. But deep down, a sense of determination propelled me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plane bound for London. As the engines roared and the wheels lifted off the ground, a knot formed in my stomach and my heart raced with a mix of emotions - fear of the unknown, excitement for new adventures, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, double-paned window and watched as familiar buildings and streets grew smaller and smaller. A sense of relief washed over me, lifting the weight of my past struggles and hardships with every mile we flew away from them. Little did I know, the journey ahead would be filled with new challenges and lessons that would shape me into the person I was always meant to become.

As we soared higher into the sky, thick clouds began to spread like a blanket over the vast expanse of blue. The world below disappeared from view, hidden by layers of white. But as we descended towards London, small patches of land began to peek through - rolling hills covered in lush green fields and charming villages nestled along winding rivers. My heart fluttered with excitement and curiosity at this glimpse of a foreign land.

The wheels touched down on the runway, jolting me out of my daydreams. I took a deep breath as we taxied towards the terminal, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life in a place that felt both unfamiliar and full of endless possibilities.

The bright lights of London beckoned me, a stark contrast to the small town I left behind. Teddy, my generous host, had spared no expense to make me feel at home in his lavish house. Each morning, I woke up to stunning views of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The enticing scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled my nostrils, reminding me that this was a life of luxury that I never could have imagined.

But what truly amazed me was the fact that I no longer had to work. Teddy's successful business ventures meant that money was no longer a worry for me. This newfound wealth allowed me to indulge in all the things I could only dream about before. My wardrobe was now filled with designer clothes, fancy dinners were a regular occurrence, and luxurious vacations were just a plane ride away.

However, amidst all this extravagance and joy, there was always a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Growing up, every penny counted and financial struggles were a constant source of stress for my family. Now, with my newfound wealth, I couldn't help but feel guilty for having so much while others back home still struggled to make ends

I fiercely pushed all doubts and apprehensions aside, determined to fully surrender myself to my newfound life. And by all appearances, I succeeded. Teddy whisked me away on dazzling tours of the city, revealing hidden gems and indulging in the finest cuisine known only to elites. He also opened the door to his elite circle of friends – powerful individuals who radiated confidence and wealth wherever they went.

At first, I felt like a mere observer among them. While they boasted about their latest investments and business ventures, I could only offer anecdotes about my humble beginnings in a small town. But as weeks turned into months, they welcomed me into their exclusive inner circle. They even included us on extravagant trips abroad where we mingled with A-list celebrities and attended VIP events.

I couldn't believe how rapidly my life had transformed since meeting Teddy. Where once I was ridiculed for not fitting in with the wealthy crowd, now I lived among them, basking in their luxurious lifestyle.

But amidst all the glitz and glamour, a persistent voice gnawed at the back of my mind. It started one afternoon while Teddy was tending to the front yard. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary chore for a homeowner, but something about it felt insidious and unsettling.

Despite the hired help we had to maintain our lavish property, Teddy insisted on taking care of menial tasks himself. At first, I thought it was just his need to be hands-on, but as the days turned into weeks, I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on the woman next door. Every time she stepped outside in her form-fitting gardening attire, he would drop whatever he was doing and watch her with an unbridled hunger. Her movements were like a sensual dance, each step oozing with an irresistible seduction that captivated him. She seemed to know exactly how to entice him, bending over suggestively in her garden while his eyes greedily took in every curve of her body. But when her husband's luxury car pulled into their driveway, she would become a picture of innocence once again. It was a tantalizing game of desire and secrecy, leaving me wondering what they truly did behind closed doors.

Rosie, the woman of the house, was a force to be reckoned with, her love and dedication to her garden rivaling that of a mother's fierce protection for her child. Harry, her husband and successful entrepreneur, exuded a confident aura as he walked through their flourishing gardens, the beauty brand he created known by all as Pleasing. Despite our similar ages, their maturity and put-together appearance made me feel inadequate in comparison. Our own home seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to theirs, always offering an unobstructed view of Rosie's constant tending to her bountiful gardens, a sight that also caught my husband's wandering eyes. But it was impossible to deny the allure of their well-manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant hues and intoxicating scents that enveloped us in a hypnotic trance.

Each passing week brought a new wave of torment as I watched Teddy's eyes dart towards Rosie's garden, his gaze lingering on her while she tended to her roses. My stomach twisted with jealousy as he made excuses to be outside, his every move calculated to catch her attention.

I couldn't bear the thought of him longing for someone else, and my heart shattered into pieces with each stolen glance towards her. Desperate for answers, I confronted him about their relationship, but he dismissed my fears with a cold indifference and insisted they were just innocent neighbors. But deep down, I knew there was something more between them, and it consumed me with a fiery rage that threatened to consume us all.

As I relaxed in the comfort of my home, the noise from outside suddenly jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped to the window overlooking the busy street below, and there I saw Harry's sleek black Mercedes screeching into their driveway, its engine roaring wildly. Rosie appeared in the doorway, her movements frantic as she planted a forced kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside with an urgency that made my heart race. The door slammed shut behind them, and a foreboding sense of dread settled in my gut as I realized that something was seriously wrong between them. Whatever was happening, they were clearly trying to hide it from prying eyes.

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread as I made my way downstairs, my curiosity burning like a wildfire. The front door slammed behind me, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind my back. My feet carried me across the short distance between our homes, anticipation building with each step. As I approached their front step, muffled voices drifted through the open window above me, a sinister soundtrack to my racing thoughts. I could make out Harry's tense tone and Rosie's pleading replies, but not the words themselves. Their hushed argument went on for what seemed like an eternity before falling silent, leaving me standing frozen in shock. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what was happening. Had my suspicions been correct after all? Were Rosie and Teddy entangled in a secret affair that Harry had finally uncovered? The weight of the truth hit me like a sledgehammer, filling me with a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear for what would

My thoughts were racing as I tried to decide what to do next, but before I could make a move, the front door swung open with a loud bang. My heart jolted in my chest as Harry stormed out, his face contorted with either seething anger or burning embarrassment - it was hard to tell which was more intense. He didn't even spare me a glance as he brushed past, heading straight for his car.

Just then, Rosie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock when she saw me standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a wild mess, betraying some sort of frantic activity behind closed doors. "Oh...I-I didn't realize you were home," she stammered, her voice trembling with unease. She attempted a smile, but it fell short and I could see the fear in her eyes.

Before I could ask what was going on, Teddy burst out of our house and called out my name. He sprinted towards us from across the street, his brows furrowed with concern as he took in the sight of Rosie and I standing together. The tense atmosphere was thick between us all, and I knew something serious was about to go down.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern as he eyed us both suspiciously.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, feeling like a pawn in their complicated game. "Do you?"

Teddy and Rosie exchanged a tense look that spoke volumes about their troubled relationship. I could sense the weight of their secrets and lies pressing down on me, suffocating me with their toxic grip. Without another word, I turned and fled back inside, trying to escape the tangled web of deceit and betrayal they had woven around me. My once glamorous new life now felt tainted with suspicion and heartache.

I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with rage and disbelief. My worst fears have been confirmed - Teddy and Rosie were having an affair all along, right under my naive nose. A surge of hot tears fills my eyes as I collapse onto the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. How could he do this to me? After all we've built together, all the love and trust we shared.

My mind races back through the past few months, dissecting every encounter between them that I had brushed off as innocent. His lingering looks at her, her secret smiles directed only at him, their hushed conversations that would abruptly end whenever I appeared. The pieces finally fit together, a puzzle of betrayal and deceit that I was too blind to see. How long has it been going on? Was it when he started staying late at work for that promotion? Or when our once effortless conversations turned into strained silence over dinner? My world is shattered, and I can't help but wonder if it was ever truly as perfect as I believed it to be.

My body curls in on itself, a protective barrier against the pain that radiates through me. My mind is stuck on replay, the tense exchange between them echoing endlessly in my head. Rosie's desperate pleas, Harry's explosive anger - it all points to betrayal.

The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks as I realize I can no longer ignore the truth. My heart aches with every beat, but I know I have to confront Teddy. Pretending everything is okay between us is no longer an option.

As I stand up and make my way to the front window, I catch a glimpse of Teddy crossing back over to our house, his defeated posture screaming guilt. The anger and hurt fueling my determination, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable confrontation.

When Teddy steps into our living room, the air crackles with tension like static electricity before a storm. The unspoken truths between us hang heavily, suffocatingly thick like a dense fog.

"Why don't you just admit it, Teddy?" My voice trembles with a mix of rage and despair.

He responds with words sharp as shattered glass, "Admit what? That you're so blinded by your own insecurity that you'd accuse me without any proof?" His betrayal cuts deep, adding more pieces to the already broken shards of my heart.

My hands balled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I struggled to contain the raging storm inside me. "Don't you dare try to twist this around on me! I saw you, Teddy. I saw the way your eyes linger on her, like she's the only thing that matters."

Teddy's jaw clenched and his calm façade cracked, giving way to a simmering anger. "You're being paranoid. Rosie is just a friend, nothing more."

I took a step closer, my voice dripping with venom. "Oh please, spare me your excuses. I've seen how you look at her when you think I'm not looking."

Fury burned bright in his eyes, his voice rising in a challenge. "How dare you accuse me of cheating? I would never do that to you!"

Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head in disbelief, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "It's not just about today, Teddy. It's been building up for months. The way you ignore me and shower her with attention... It's like I'm invisible to you now."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh please, stop playing the victim here. You knew what you were getting into when we moved here.You want me to make you feel like you exist? Do you want me to fuck you? What do you want? You’re so needy you put your issues onto other women."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure in the face of his callous words. "I thought I was getting into a life with someone who loved and respected me. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back to screw the neighbor."

The tension in the room reached its breaking point as Teddy's mask slipped completely, revealing the raw emotions seething beneath the surface. "Maybe if you were more exciting, more adventurous, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere for some excitement in my life!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in disbelief and pain. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, an invisible barrier that seemed impossible to breach.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered hoarsely, the finality of those words echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once again with resolve. "Fine then! Maybe this is for the best. Actually, yeah it is. Bitch." he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

And with those parting words echoing in my ears like a curse, I turned away from him and headed towards the door, leaving behind our shattered dreams and broken promises in a trail of fractured memories.

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Harry sat in his sleek, black car, parked precisely outside of his modern fortress. I approached cautiously, trying to mask my trembling steps on the pavement. With a gentle tap on the window, I could feel his intense gaze burning through me from within the tinted glass. His phone slipped from his hand as he rolled down the window, revealing a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity. A commanding voice cut through the silence, "Get in." Without hesitation, I made my way around to the passenger side and sank into the plush leather seat next to him, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

As we drove away from the chaotic scene behind us, the tension in the car was suffocating. Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to be coiled with a fierce determination, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. I stole a quick glance at him, noticing how his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a dangerous edge, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.

A heavy silence hung in the air of the car, suffocating me as I struggled to catch my breath. Harry's voice pierced through the tension like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my racing thoughts. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression etched with genuine concern.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt constricted and choked. Finally, I managed to whisper, "I don't know." My mind was reeling from the events that had unfolded only moments ago.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his words heavy with understanding. "Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us," he mused, his tone grave and contemplative. "But it's how we handle them that defines who we are."

I turned to look at him, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos raging inside me. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For being here for me."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, but there was a glint of steel in his gaze. "You don't have to thank me," he replied firmly. "I'm here because I care about you and because your husband is sleeping with my wife." His reassurance was met with a sense of relief and gratitude amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume me.

The stillness between us was palpable, a fragile thread holding back a storm of emotions. The road stretched out before us, winding through fields and forests, as if it were leading us towards a new beginning.

My heart felt heavy with the weight of our shared past, but in this moment, with Harry by my side, I could feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Together, we drove into the unknown, leaving behind the pain and hurt that had consumed us.

But as we reached our destination - a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere - the tension returned. Harry's exhaustion and frustration were etched on his face as he turned to me.

"I know neither of us want to go home right now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "For fuck's sake, they're probably sexing each other up as we speak.." A surge of anger and betrayal rose within me at his words. "Let's just stay here for the night, maybe two. We can regroup and come up with a plan." His proposal hung in the air like a dark cloud, reminding us both of the uncertain future that lay ahead. But one thing was certain - we wouldn't have to face it alone.

My voice caught in my throat, unable to form words as I simply nodded, a tight knot of fear and anger coiling in my stomach. My body trembled with the intensity of the situation. We both knew that any misstep could cause everything to spiral out of control. The motel seemed like a fitting backdrop for our strained emotions, its dilapidated exterior reflecting the state of our relationship. The neon lights flickering ominously, casting a sickly glow over the peeling paint and broken windows. But even this rundown place offered some respite from the suffocating chaos and turmoil surrounding us.

Panicked and unprepared for the situation I found myself in, I regretted not packing a change of clothes as my heart raced and my mind spun with fear. The events that had just unfolded left me gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of chaos. As we rushed into the rundown motel, I couldn't help but scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. The flickering lights and musty smell only added to the ominous atmosphere. Harry snatched the key from the grimy front desk man and led us down a dimly lit hallway to our room. My anxiety spiked when they informed us that the only available room featured a single king-sized bed. My nerves were on edge at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Harry, his intimidating presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension between Harry and me was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.

"I'll take the floor," Harry offered gruffly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a heavy blanket.

I shook my head, unable to accept his sacrifice. "No, we can share the bed. It's fine," I replied softly, trying to ease some of the strain that weighed on us both.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. "Alright then."

The room felt suffocatingly small as we settled in, the walls seeming to press in on us from all sides. The shadows danced ominously in the dim light, casting eerie shapes across the worn carpet.

"I never thought we'd end up here," I mused quietly, breaking the somber stillness that enveloped us.

Harry's voice was gruff as he responded, "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect it."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Seems like we're both striking out lately."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our complicated situation hanging heavily over us. The sound of distant traffic seeping through the thin walls served as a reminder of the world outside our little bubble of chaos.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry you're going through this. You deserve better."

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since we had arrived. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that caught me off guard.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold despair that had settled in my heart. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's company.

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of our circumstances still heavy on our shoulders but somehow more bearable with each other's presence. The flickering lights outside cast fleeting shadows across the room, adding a sense of fleeting impermanence to our shared moment of respite.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice genuine and heartfelt.

Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between us in the midst of turmoil. "Me too," I whispered, feeling a sense of hope blooming in my heart despite the challenges ahead.

And so we sat together in the dimly lit motel room, two souls seeking solace in each other's company amidst the chaos that threatened to tear us apart.

My phone began to buzz incessantly in my hand, Teddy's name flashing on the screen. I couldn't bear to see his name or hear his voice, so I forcefully shut off my phone and flung it across the room with a violent toss. As it clattered against the wall, Harry's quiet voice pierced through the air.

"She called me too," he seethed, his fists clenched at his side. "In this moment, I could kill her."

I nodded in agreement, my blood boiling with rage. "Teddy had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous and then suggest that if he just fucked me, my jealousy would disappear," I spat out, feeling both hurt and incensed by his words.

Harry's voice dripped with desire as he turned towards me, his gaze burning into my skin. "Would it?" His words were a challenge, daring me to answer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he leaned in closer.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Would what?"

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he spoke the words that sent a shiver down my spine. "If he fucked you, would you still be so jealous?"

My heart raced at the vulgar question and I let out a nervous laugh. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Harry. Nothing could change how I feel."

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in his voice. "The timing of this is fucking terrible. I've always thought you were stunning, wondered what you saw in a guy like him. And I know I could give it to you so much better."

Our eyes locked in a heated moment and I couldn't deny the sparks that flew between us. But as tempting as his offer was, I knew I couldn't betray my feelings for another man.

I glanced up at him through my lashes and saw the raw intensity in his gaze. It was clear that he wanted me. But we both knew it could never be more than a forbidden fantasy.

“What if we had our own affair, you know, to get back at them.” He said with a smirk.

My heart pounded in my chest like a wild animal in a cage at his words. An affair? The thought sent waves of scandalous delight and sinful anticipation coursing through my veins.

"An affair, Harry?" I repeated tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch in my throat. The charged silence that hung between us was as intoxicating as the raw desire smoldering in his gaze.

Leaning closer, Harry's lips brushed against my earlobe as he whispered huskily, "Yes, an affair, just like what they did. Us, sneaking around, feeling each others bodies." His hot breath fanned over me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

The room seemed to shrink around us as Harry moved impossibly closer, his hand finding its way to my knee. I watched as his fingers traced patterns along my thigh, desire flooding me with each small movement.

Harry's thumb traced a line up towards the apex of my thighs, igniting sparks wherever it made contact with my flesh through the thin material of my skirt. My body instinctively rose to meet him and I let out a soft gasp.

"You want this," he murmured heatedly against my neck before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my core clenched at his actions.

"I...I..." I stuttered, struggling for words as heat pooled low in my belly. He chuckled darkly at my loss for words before returning his attention back to where his hand had slowly began creeping upwards again. His warm touch was like an electric shock, leaving behind a trail of molten desire.

Without another word, Harry pushed up my skirt and slipped his hand into my panties. His fingers brushed lightly against me and I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to my core. He grinned wickedly at me and slowly began to stroke me, his skilled fingers setting my senses ablaze.

"Harry," I moaned out, clutching at his arm as he expertly worked me into a bundle of nerves. His low chuckle did nothing to ease the escalating tension.

His finger easily slipped inside me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion. Harry pumped his digits inside me slowly at first, but quickly sped up when I let out a needy gasp. The pleasure was overwhelming and soon enough, I clenched around him, a shuddering orgasm ripping through me.

I fell back onto the bed, panting heavily as aftershocks still tingled throughout my body. Harry wiped his glistening fingers on my skirt before smoothly pulling it back down. He then lay next to me on the bed, his smirk evident in the dim light.

"That's just a taste," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"I can't wait to claim you as mine," Harry whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart raced as he trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to suckle a tender spot just below my earlobe. His hands moved sensually over my body, teasingly tracing patterns on my skin before gripping me tighter.

Desperate for more of his touch, I moaned and arched into him. He took that as an invitation and gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head roughly. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he saw me bare-chested for the first time. I blushed at his appreciation but internally preened at his reaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled lowly before capturing one of my nipples between his lips and sucking hard. My back bowed off the bed as I let out a keening whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He had a way of making me feel wanted and desired like no one ever had before.

He moved lower, kissing and licking his way down my stomach until he reached the hem of my skirt. With a swift movement, he yanked it up over my hips, baring me completely to him. His eyes darkened even more when they met mine again, full of lust and possession.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded softly yet authoritatively. I hesitated for only a moment before complying with his request, feeling incredibly exposed but also powerfully aroused by the thought of pleasing him in any way possible.

Harry took advantage of this vulnerability by thrusting two fingers deep inside me without any warning or preparation. I gasped at the intrusion but didn't stop him from exploring deeper within me. Instead, I clenched around his fingers instinctively while moaning out his name in ecstasy. He chuckled softly against my inner thigh before reaching between our bodies to stroke himself in time with his rhythmic fingering of me.

"You're so tight," he groaned approvingly.

As Harry thrust his fingers deeper into me, I couldn't help but moan louder. His fingers curled inside me, searching for my sweet spot while his other hand gripped my hip firmly. My body shuddered with pleasure as we moved together in this intense rhythm.

"You feel so good," I whispered between breaths. "Please don't stop."

He chuckled darkly before biting down softly on the lobe of my ear, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His hips picked up speed, grinding against me as he groaned in approval.

"That's it, baby girl," he growled. "Take what you want."

His words ignited something deep within me, making me even more hungry for his touch. I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer still. Our skin slapped together in sync with each swift thrust and retreat as we moved together like two bodies meant to be one.

"Oh fuck, you're driving me wild," he whispered into my ear before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back sharply. The sudden sting shot straight to my core, intensifying every sensation tenfold. He released my hair just as quickly and crashed his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss that left me panting for air.

We moved from the couch to bed floor where he pushed me down onto all fours before kneeling behind me. One hand gripped the base of my spine while the other caressed its way up my inner thigh towards my core again. He teased me mercilessly with his fingers as he trailed hot kisses down my spine and back up again, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

"I know I'll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before," he muttered darkly into my ear just before slamming himself deep inside me from behind in one powerful stroke that made me cry out loudly at both surprise and pleasure. In response, he gripped both sides of my face roughly yet tenderly and claimed my mouth once more in a fiery kiss that went on forever or at least it felt like it did until our bodies became entwined.

I could feel his cock hardening in his pants and I needed it no matter how wrong it was.

He gripped my hair tightly and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You're mine to fuck however I want." Wanting more than anything to feel his cock deep inside me, I moaned in agreement.

Pushing me against the bed, he roughly lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his free hand, he pushed his hard and heavy cock into me. I cried out at the intense pleasure shooting through my body as he began to thrust slowly yet powerfully in and out of me.

"Say you want it," he growled against my ear. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Please," I whimpered. "Fuck me hard."

His answering groan sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins as he slammed into me with all his might, claiming my mind and body as his own. The force of each thrust sent jolts of electricity through every nerve ending i body, leaving me breathless and begging for more.

As he continued to pound into me, I couldn't help but moan his name. His thick cock stretched and filled me, hitting my sweet spot with each powerful thrust. I felt my walls start to quake, ready to explode with pleasure as he took control of our encounter.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at my earlobe. "Just let go."

I clung to him tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the intensity of our lovemaking. Every muscle in my body was on edge, waiting for the release that felt so close yet so far away.

He changed positions again, lifting me up and pushing me against the wall. His other hand gripped my hair tightly as he claimed my mouth roughly in a deep, passionate kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he began to thrust even harder into me. It felt so dirty yet so good to be taken like this.

"You are mine," he whispered harshly between breaths. "Only mine. I bet your husband would be fucking dumbfounded when he sees you filled up with my babies."

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement as he took control completely. This was exactly what I needed - someone strong who would make me feel wanted and taken care of.

As we moved together in sync, lost in the heat of passion and desire, I whispered back to him between gasps for air, "Please...don't stop."

He replied by grabbing hold of my ass cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he thrust deeper into me. His rough skin rubbed against mine, sending tingling sensations all over my body. With every push and pull, our hips collided, echoing throughout the room.

I could feel him growing harder inside me, straining against the thin fabric separating us. The anticipation was killing me - I needed him to release that cock and fill me up completely. As if reading my mind, he pulled away from me suddenly and spun me around so that I was facing the wall again.

"Not yet," he growled into my ear before reaching down and teasing my entrance with his thumbs. He pushed one finger inside me slowly, then another, stretching me open until three fingers were buried deep inside me. I arched my back involuntarily as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my veins at his tender ministrations on my most sensitive spot.

“Where is your damn phone?” Harry demanded, his voice dripping with urgency. I struggled to lift my head off the bed and weakly pointed to the device lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and strode over to it.

A sinister grin spread across his face as he unlocked the phone and shoved his thumb into my mouth, ordering me to suck on it. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he flipped the phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the tattoos inked on his arm for identification. His next move was ruthless as he pulled up my text messages and sent the photo to Teddy, effectively sending a clear message of dominance over me.

"I'll make sure that bastard knows what he's missing out on," Harry growls, his eyes filled with possessive rage. "You're too good for him, love. A fucking goddess like you deserves to be worshipped and adored, not tossed aside like a used toy." I feel a mix of anger and satisfaction as I realize that I don't need Teddy anymore, not after the wild and passionate night I just had with Harry. He makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

Harry threw the phone back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I could see the fire in his gaze, the intensity of his desire for me. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, gently tugging on it as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, but his touch was firm, demanding. I responded eagerly, meeting his kiss with equal passion.

As we kissed, Harry's hands began to wander, exploring my body with a familiarity that set my skin on fire. He traced the curve of my waist, the arch of my back, the dip of my hips. I could feel myself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. I needed him inside me again, needed to feel him filling me up, possessing me completely.

But Harry had other plans. He broke our kiss and looked deep into my eyes, his expression serious. "Not yet," he whispered, echoing his earlier words. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He lowered his head and began to kiss a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. He teased my nipples with his tongue, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. I gasped, arching my back as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Slowly, carefully, Harry began to enter me once again. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of me. But as he felt me grow wetter, more responsive, he picked up the pace. He thrust deeper, harder, his hips slapping against mine. I could feel myself losing control, could feel the familiar tightening in my belly as I approached my climax.

"Turn over, want to see that beautiful ass of yours as I fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

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throneofsmut · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day Thirty-One: Wing Play

Azriel x Female Reader

A / N : If you’ve been waiting for this i’m sorry it’s so late but i just kept rewriting it and getting stuck. I literally just finished this and went straight to proofreading it. It was giving me an aneurysm but i think this is the best it’s gonna get so please interact when you finish reading it and tell me what you guys think. Also it’s long as fuck, it’s quite literally the longest one ive written so far. I was thinking about turning it into a series but anyways i hope you guys enjoy and thank you for being patient with me 💙

When your older sister, Feyre was taken away by some fae beast in the night, you thought you’d never see her again. The rest of your family acted like nothing happened, all of sudden having money and status again. But you knew the truth, even went so far as to going to the wall a couple times.

The first time you went you found one of the ripples in the wall separating the humans and faeries. And pushed through, it felt… different. Once your body was completely through, you felt more alive, more like yourself.

Making the trek through the forest, hiding along the gates to the Manor of the Spring Court, you were just about to make a run for it. When suddenly a knife was pressed against your throat. Fae. You knew you had one chance at this, throwing your elbow behind you, into the fae’s middle with everything you had. The knife lightly slicing into your throat warm trickles of blood dripped from it, as you grabbed the knife lunging for the fae male.

Pressing it against his throat as the red haired male was gasping for breath - you winded him. Using your free arm to push him further into the ground. You leaned down, snarling, “Where is she ?”

He coughed finally regaining his breath, “Safe. She’s safe.”

Applying a bit more pressure against his throat, the knife made his skin redden, “Liar.”

“I’ll show you,” he panted softly.

You got off him but as soon as he stood you instantly had the blade pressed against his side. He led you to the side of the manor as he pointed up towards a window. You growled, sounding more fae than human, “Where is she ?”

A heart beat passed, “Look.” And there she was, your sister, Feyre.

She looked… happy.

You let out a shaky breath, fighting back tears, dropping the knife that was clutched in your hand. The red haired male turned to you, brows furrowed, “You love her.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Of course I do, she’s my sister. She’s one half of me.” He gave you a gentle smile before walking you back towards the wall.

Once you made it back to the wall, he stopped you, grabbing your arm. “I’m Lucien.” You gave him a small nod, his voice stopped you again, “So which sister are you ?”

“Y/n.”

He chuckled, “Y/n. That’s why you were able to disarm me. Feyre told me that while she hunted for the family, you fought in the pits for money.” Giving him another small nod, turning back towards the wall. “Listen, I can meet you at the wall every couple of weeks. If you want to check on her.” He offered.

Looking over your shoulder, your lips set in a wicked smirk, “I was going to keep checking on her regardless.”

His lips curved up into a smirk too before nodding his head towards the wall, “See you soon.”

Then you were gone.

So every 2 weeks for months you checked on feyre without her knowing. Lucien beside you as you both were perched in a tree, through the months you both slowly started becoming friends. At first he’d tell you how she was doing but then you’d both start asking each other questions. You’d never hated faeries, even though your family did. To you it was simple, they’d never done anything to you personally, so you didn’t hate them. Lucien laughed at that and told you he didn’t hate humans, this time making you laugh.

You were just about to head out to make your journey to the Spring court when Feyre showed up. Then almost as soon as she’d gotten back, she left.

A couple months later you went back and Lucien was already there waiting for you. “She’s not here.” He whispered.

“What ?”

He sighed, “She left.”

You felt your heart racing, Lucien could probably hear it. “I have to find her.”

Lucien grabbed your arm before you made it back through the wall, “You may not like what you find.” Then he let you go.

You practically sprinted the entire way home resting as little as possible. Ripping the door to your family’s estate and then slamming it shut, making your way to your bedroom. Sleep found you quickly that night, exhausted from your trek to the Spring Court and back home.

You slept in, almost sleeping through the whole day until you were woken up by voices. They were arguing and it sounded like they were coming from the dining room. Still in your night slip, you made your way down stairs - Feyre, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel had all been alerted to the sound of a door closing - walking into the dining room, you froze.

She was here.

Feyre was here but she was different. Now she was slightly taller than you only, pointed ears poking through her hair and she was beautiful. She was beautiful before but now… and she didn’t come alone. Three fae males were with her. One had eyes so blue they were violet and the others had large bat-like wings. They all stood, assessing you, not sure if they should be preparing for a fight.

“Feyre…” I whispered.

“You’re here.” She breathed.

That’s all it took for you to throw yourself into her arms. The both of you cried as you held each other. Throat tight as you whispered, “I didn’t know if you were dead or not.”

She let out a shaky breath as she hugged you tighter, “I was.”

Holding each other for a couple moments longer, before Nesta was clearing her throat and the both of you separated. Feyre took a step back, not letting go of your hand as she snarled at Nesta, “You said she wasn’t here.” Nesta merely shrugged in response. Feyre glared at her before turning to introduce you to the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. He bowed at the waist in greeting. Then she moved to the General of his Armies, Cassian. And finally to the most beautiful male you’d ever seen, his Spymaster, Azriel.

They surprisingly bowed at the waist in greeting as well, you bowed your head in return. A genuine smile on your lips as you acknowledged them, “Hello, pleasure to meet you. All you.” Rhysand was about to speak when Nesta cut him off, “Go change into something more appropriate.”

You rolled your eyes before turning to look at her, “I'm pretty sure it’s not the first time they’ve seen a female in night slip… or a pair of tits for that matter.” Turning back to face the four of them, you could see they were all fighting to not smirk at your antics.

Doing a mock curtsy directed a Nesta, “I’ll be back. Continue having dinner, don’t stop on my account.” Heading back upstairs, you still felt Nesta’s burning gaze on you, “Now, Nes !” You yelled at her over your shoulder just to piss her off even more.

You came back down once everyone was seated and noticed Cassian and Azriel kept shifting trying to get comfortable in chairs not meant to accommodate wings. Their eyes landed on you as you neared before stopping in the middle of the room, turning back on your heel. Yelling over your shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

Hauling two stools back into the dining room, then the male named Azriel was suddenly at your side, taking them out of your hands. Cassian met him halfway, to grab one, before finally sitting comfortably without the backs of the chairs bothering their wings. They gave you warm smiles before thanking you, Rhysand saying thank you as well. You shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

Rhys shook his head, “Not to us. Thank you, for your kindness.”

Dinner was giving you a headache because Nesta and Feyre were arguing. You were picking at the skin around your thumbs when a large scarred hand settled over them, Azriel’s. Who was seated next to you. Turning to look at him, he didn’t look away from the argument but he gave your hands three reassuring squeezes. A silent sign that he saw you.

Then Cassian was trying to get a reaction out of Nesta, you let out small huff and without thinking you moved one of your hands, settling atop Azriel’s. Soft smooth fingers roaming over the scarred skin, tracing them. You felt him stiffen beneath your touch before relaxing again. You whispered almost inaudibly, “Beautiful.” Eyes never leaving his hands.

He looked at you and Rhys saw something flicker in his gaze but it was gone as soon as it came.

When dinner was over, Feyre and Rhys told your sisters and you why they’d really come.

War.

A war was coming and our village would likely get the brunt of it. They also told us that they wanted to meet with the six human queens, using the estate as a neutral meeting place. We all stayed up late into the night as they drafted up a letter to set the meeting. Everyone made their way upstairs but then Feyre followed you into your room. That’s when she told you everything. Finally getting up to make her way towards the door when a shadow slithered in. She laughed softly, “I wonder why it’s here.”

Tilting your head as it floated up in front of you , almost like it was taking you in, “Should we ask ?”

“If you want.”

“Uhh. . . Go get, Azriel. Please.” You said to the shadow.

Then it slithered away, going to get its master hopefully. Feyre and you waited. Then a couple moments later soft knocks sounded at your door.

You rushed to open it seeing if he had actually come.

“You came.” Something like amusement glittering in your eyes.

He gave you a shy small, “You called.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you but-“ Feyre cut you off. “Did you send the shadow in here ?”

Azriel cleared his throat, “No. They like you" - his eyes hadn’t left yours - "they wanted to see you again. I told them they might scare you so I told them to leave you alone but I guess they didn’t listen.”

Shaking your head, eyes still on his, “They don’t scare me.” He gave you a small nod, understanding what your words meant - he doesn’t scare you.

Then Feyre was walking past you, her hand on Azriel’s arm, “Come on, Let’s let her rest. The mother knows we need it too.”

The next morning after breakfast Rhys offered us that if we wanted we could go back to the Night Court with them if we didn’t feel safe on this side of the wall. We would be protected by him and his inner circle there. The whole time Rhys voiced his offer, Feyre's eyes were pleading you to come, to go “home” with her. Nesta and Elain said no, well Nesta said no for the both of them. Feyre’s voice was quiet, “Y/n ?”

You sighed heavily, “I can’t leave them.” She knew who you were talking about, and nodded solemnly.

They were about to leave when Rhys spoke again, “A squad of soldiers will be patrolling the area, you won’t even know they’re here but they will be. And if one of you" - he looked at you - "or all you change your mind a soldier will be in the drawing room at noon and midnight every day. He will send word back to me and you will be taken back to the Night Court.”

Nesta and Elain gave him a curt nod.

You bowed your head at him, “Thank you.”

He gave you a warm smile then bowed at the waist.

You walked them out, Feyre hugged you, breathing you in. Almost like she was trying to commit you to memory in case anything happened. Your eyes met with Azriel’s as you were hugging her, “Don’t worry. I feel sure we’ll see each other again.” Feyre hugged you tighter but Azriel nodded, he understood that your words were just as much for him as they were for Feyre. And just like that they were gone.

A couple weeks went by and the Queens had sent word that they would agree to meet. And on the day they had agreed, Lucien had sent you a letter that he wanted to speak with you on that same day. So you went. He asked about Feyre and her whereabouts, you didn’t tell him anything. Yes, you were friends but Feyre was your sister. Your loyalty was to her.

Time went by and everyday you thought about telling the Night Court soldier stationed in your home to tell Rhys that you wanted to go. But the thought of leaving Nesta and Elain alone, you couldn’t, you knew how to fight. They didn’t. So you stayed.

More time had passed and the Queens ended up siding with Hybern for their own personal gain. Your sisters and you caught in the middle of it. The three of you were dragged into a room in the King of Hybern’s castle by four of the Queens guards. You stood in front of your sisters protectively, they were still wearing their nightgowns, whereas yours was just in shreds now from you fighting back. Not to mention the bruises and cuts all over your face and body and the blood soaking your night slip.

You had managed to kill eleven of their guards when they appeared in your home and surprisingly six Hybern soldiers. Feyre, Rhys, Mor and Cassian all looked horrified as they took in the youngest sister’s appearance. Their horror was replaced by shock as Azriel let out a growl - sounding more animal than fae - as he saw her. You still hadn’t noticed their presence, your senses were clouded by pure unyielding rage.

Even though you were gagged and bound - they had somewhat ripped from all your fighting - you took a fighting stance as best you could. Your body was going on pure adrenaline. Numb to everything around you, you didn’t hear Elain’s quiet sobs that were muffled by the gag in her mouth or notice Nesta’s disheveled appearance as she panted from fighting back as best she could. Then without even thinking, you scrambled trying to cover Elain and Nesta’s bodies with your own, as the king of Hyberns power slammed into everyone. Power, white and unending. They were shrieking as you let out a cry of pain, his power affecting you.

Feyre was on the ground, Rhys was slammed to his knees along with Mor. Cassian and Azriel were on the ground. Cassian’s wings were shredded apart as he flared them protecting Azriel from the king’s powers. And Azriel was sprawled in a puddle of his own blood, an ash bolt through his chest. Elain let out a sob to warn Feyre of Tamlin’s approach. Mor tried to make a move for the King of Hybern, but Azriel’s cry of pain stopped her. The sound of him in pain finally cleared your senses. Your eyes landed on his and he attempted to move to you, letting out another cry of pain. No doubt the King's doing.

“Stop.” Your voice cold. The king only laughed, stalking towards you.

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel, Rhys, Lucien and Tamlin all growled.

He only laughed again as he ordered one his guards to take you to the cauldron. “Put the beautiful sister in first.” The second the guard was behind you, you slammed the back of your head into his nose and was ready to do more when Azriel let out another cry of pain, and you froze.

The king tsked at you, “Don’t. Don’t do that. Unless you want him dead.”

The rage in your eyes as you glared at him could devour worlds. One side of your mouth curling up into a cruel smile, as you said with lethal softness, “I’m gonna kill you. Not today, not tomorrow, but I’m gonna kill you. All of you.” He beheld the rage in your eyes and understood your words, the weight of them. They weren’t a threat they were a promise. And he faltered back a step, tearing his gaze from yours, before ordering the guard again, to put you in the cauldron. You gave him a wicked smirk that only the devil could replicate, “What’s wrong… scared ?”

The guard holding you slapped you, your head snapped to the side, spitting blood on the King of Hybern’s Face. Teeth covered in blood, giving him a feral smile as you were shoved closer to the cauldron. Then you heard Lucien’s voice, “Y/n. I’m so sorry.”

Then, Tamlin’s, “I am so sorry for everything.” The High Lord of Springs words filled you with more rage.

He’s sorry ? Oh, he’s sorry. He’s sorry. He’s Sorry. HE’S SORRY. HE’S SORRY.

Those were your last thoughts as your head was shoved under the water. The dark black waters of the Cauldron were so cold, that it burned hotter than any fire. It was all consuming just like your rage. You had always been quick to anger - to rage. It was easier to just turn everything you felt into rage. So this time was no different, finally letting it pour out of you in waves.

You had always been forced to give but this time you were going to take.

You couldn’t tell if it had only been seconds or hours since you’d been submerged under. Unknowingly to you, everyone was holding their breath at what they saw. The black cauldron was now glowing red, the dark calm waters now boiling white waters, bubbling over and smoking at the top. It had been too long, you had to be dead - no one could survive this - then both of your hands broke through the water.

Grasping the side of the glowing cauldron, then your head broke through the waters surface. Sucking in a harsh breath as you heard gasps throughout the room.

Blazing brighter than any star, glowing, fire made flesh. The others couldn’t stand to look at you - you burned so bright - as you hauled yourself out of the cauldron. So lost in a primal rage that you hadn’t even noticed your pointed ears and elongated limbs. The cauldron made you High Fae.

Standing to your full height everyone in the room held their breaths, they knew you were different. Felt it. As soon your hands broke through the surface they’d felt it. Your eyes were glowing as you scanned the entire room, no one moved. The look on your face was all rage and power, an avenging goddess. Death Incarnate.

Hearing a noise from your right, you snapped your head in that direction, an injured winged fae male - Azriel - was trying to make his way to you. Trying and failing. He was stopped by a blonde fae female, putting a hand on his chest. Moving it as he growled, “She’s my mate.” You didn’t know why but you just knew you had to get him.

You got as close to him as you could and he seemed to settle a bit. Then, Elain was dragged into the cauldron, scared and crying. It tipped itself on its side and Elain came out soaking wet but now fae. Lucien at her side moments later wrapped his coat around her. Soon after Nesta was thrown in, kicking and screaming. Cassian stirred but quickly succumbed to the pain of his shredded wings. The cauldron tipping itself on its side once more as Nesta came out. All three of you were made different. But when you came out it was as if the world held its breath.

In the end Rhys winnowed Cassian, Azriel and you in the middle of a warm home. Helping to lower Azriel onto one of the sofas, you were going to help Rhys put Cassian on the other but Azriel didn’t let go of your hand. And his cousin, Mor, followed shortly after with Nesta and Elain. While Feyre had been left with Tamlin and Lucien. Elain was still sobbing and Nesta was screaming. You stayed quiet, assessing as Mor and Rhys winnowed healers into the home.

They all crowded around Cassian and Azriel as they start to heal the general’s wings and the wound on Azriel’s chest. Without noticing, your free hand balled into a fist at your side and you had started to glow. A fae female approached you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder, “You don’t need to see this. Come with us.” Turning to look at her, she had a soft look on her face. “My name is Cerridwen. My sister and I will get you cleaned up.” Nodding over her shoulder as you see her twin sister trying to usher your two sisters up the stairs. Rhys gives you a reassuring nod and you nod at Cerridwen once. Then bend down to play a kiss on Azriel’s lips - you don’t know why you did it - before letting her lead the way, too tired to fight.

The only people you saw for two weeks were the twins and Rhys. Sometimes your sisters. Mostly keeping to yourself because you knew what magic lay beneath your skin, in your veins. You didn’t want to scare anyone, more than you scared yourself. They didn’t know how it felt, how much you struggled to keep it buried. So you’d let it out in little ways, and that was just the flames.

While you were alone, you often stared at yourself in the mirror. It was strange being high fae, it felt familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. The unnatural elongated features and limbs. Pointed ears and smooth skin. You weren’t just devastatingly beautiful. You were otherworldly and vaguely threatening.

You’d also been having trouble sleeping, Azriel’s shadows would often slither under the door and caress your face, trying and failing to help you fall asleep. But, every time you did sleep you would have a nightmare. It was always the same two. Either, you in the cauldron or Azriel dying. A sharp tug in your chest would always wake you up from them and you’d hear soft footsteps outside your door as you gasped for breath.

Then as soon as you’d catch your breath, they’d leave.

You hadn’t slept two nights in a row, the shadows kept trying to drag you into bed, but you were stubborn. Instead preferring to let flames dance along your fingertips, twining around your now long slender fingers. Batting away the shadows every time they’d grab ahold of your wrist, trying to drag you into your room from the balcony. Then they’d swat you back, on the back of your hand like a child being scolded. On the third night when they tried again and you batted them away, they didn’t do it back. Simply slithering away under the door.

Moments later you heard footsteps getting closer then the door softly clicking open.

You knew who it was, you felt him all the way from the door, even though you were outside. Scenting him as soon as he stepped out onto the balcony.

Azriel.

“The shadows tell me you haven’t been sleeping. Why ?” He said as a way of greeting.

You shrugged, not bothering to look up, “I don’t know.” You mumbled.

“You’re safe now, I promise. Your sisters are too.”

“I’m so tired, Az.” Your voice came out shakier than you expected.

So lost in the flames, that you didn’t realize he was right next to you until he was hauling you into his arms, carrying you back to bed.

Laying on your side, peering up at him, you whispered. “Can you sleep in here tonight ?”

He only stared at you, hazel eyes boring into your as his throat bobbed. “Please.” He nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots and leathers. Tapping on his shoulder, he turned to look at you.“Can I ask you for one more favor ? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He nodded his head again, “Can we do skin to skin ? You don’t have to take off your briefs, I’ll leave my panties on, but I just want to feel you. Know that your're there.”

Azriel cleared his throat, “If that’s what you want.” You nodded your head and he did too in response.

Once he was only in his briefs he laid down on your bed, you sat up on your knees facing him, pulling your night slip over your head. He groaned softly, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” You felt your face heat up as you giggled softly, murmuring an apology as you laid on his chest. His large scarred hand moved to rub your back soothingly, helping you fall asleep. Mumbling a thank you as a dreamless sleep claimed you that night.

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head against the glare of the morning sun. He always had his curtains drawn and blinds closed so the light wouldn’t wake him when he did manage to sleep in. Even then he never slept in past dawn but it had to be late morning now if the sun was this bright. He was about to move to draw the curtains, freezing when he felt something weighing down on his chest. Knowing it wasn’t anything dangerous because his shadows would’ve told him otherwise, he blinked slowly against the sunlight and saw you.

There, on his chest lay his mate's head with her hair covering part of her face. Your arm was draped over his middle and your leg over his hips, his hand still on the small of your back. Now he knew why he’d slept in for the first time in a long long time, he had finally found his peace… you.

You looked so soft like this, beautiful. Azriel always thought you were beautiful but now that you were on his chest he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Couldn’t resist the urge to use his free hand to push your hair away from your face and trace a scarred finger over your soft features. A small smile graced his lips. You hummed, brows furrowing at the feeling of someone touching you. Azriel only moved his hand to continue playing with your hair.

Then you shifted a bit, showing him more of your face before giving him a sleepy smile as you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep, “Good morning.”

Azriel chuckled softly, “Yeah. It is.”

“How long have you been up ?” You asked, moving your head to lay on his bicep.

“A while.” Azriel breathed.

“Why didn’t you wake me up ? I would’ve moved, if you had something to do.”

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t.”

Lips curving up into a teasing smile, “So you mean to tell me, the infamous shadowsinger was scared to wake me up ?”

He laughed at that, “Maybe.”

You moved to sit up, the sunlight streaming in behind you making a golden halo around you. Opening your eyes, stretching your arms out, letting out a soft groan. Azriel gasped softly and you froze, “What ?”

“Your eyes, they- they’re glowing and your hands.” He stuttered as he sat up.

Squeezing your eyes shut, taking a deep breath as you willed your powers back into you. Moving further back on the bed - away from him - your voice quiet, “Sorry I- I didn’t meant to scare you.”

He shook his head, reaching for you, this time you didn’t move, not as his hands cradled your face. “Scary? My gods, you’re divine.” He whispered.

Putting your hands atop his, pulling them off your face, whispering, “What if I hurt you ?”

“You could never hurt me, I’d only feel you.”

Tears lined your eyes, bottom lip quivering, “You don’t know that. I can’t control it yet. I could burn you.”

“I’d let you, I don’t want to control your fire. I need to be near it.” He rasped out.

Your eyes flickered between his, the confession in them. He would. He would let you burn him as long as you were touching him. Azriel wanted to stay away longer, let you adjust but you unknowingly called out to him through the bond. He’d come as close to being outside your door, then turn back, afraid he’d ruin it and scare you. Then you and him would end up like Lucien and Elain. “You should go. I don’t want to hurt you.” You mumbled, looking away, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes. Or him the pain in yours.

“From the moment I met you, all those months ago, not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you. And now that I’m with you again. . . I’m in agony. The closer I get it to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you- I can’t breathe. I’m haunted by the kiss that you should’ve never have given me. My heart is beating. . . hoping, that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, Tormenting me. . . What can I do ? –I will do anything that you ask. If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me.”

“Kiss me.” You breathed.

His eyes scanned your face, looking for any hesitation, when he found none his lips met yours with an urgent, bruising impact. A desperation that you returned, tracing your tongue over the seam of his lip. You weren’t sure he was breathing. And just to see what he’d do, smirking against his plush lips, you palmed him through his briefs.

He pulled back, throwing his head back in a curse.

You laughed quietly, kissing the scar on his chest from the ash bolt, as he panted. Asking in between the kisses that you were littering down his torso, “Can you keep going ?”

“Your blood healed me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

You chuckled softly, “So that’s what Rhys wanted it for.” When you laid your palm flat on him again, you asked, “So this is okay ?”

Azriel was still panting, his breathing jagged, “Don’t stop.”

“Maybe. If you ask nicely.”

“Please, Fireheart.” The nickname made your heart flutter. Kissing him once more, teeth tugging on his bottom lip before pulling down his briefs. Mouth going dry at the sight of him, bare for you.

He was all for you.

Then his hands were in hair, his lips smashing into yours. Large scarred hands roaming your body, trying to memorize all the dips and curves of it. Roughly gripping the swell of your ass, making your chest rise up, sensitive peaked nipples rubbing against him. Azriel did it again, swallowing the moan trying to escape your soft lips.

You move your hand down between your bodies, stroking him, earning a grunt out of him. Then he flipped you, laying you flat against the unmade bed. Pulling back, chests heaving as he rips your panties off your body. Groaning at the sight of your glistening slick covered cunt. He fights to tear his eyes away when he hears a whimper leave your lips. Finding his shadows tugging and swirling around your nipples, while your head is thrown back and your eyes screwed shut.

His scarred thumb moving lightly over your clit makes you look at him through half lidded, lust filled eyes. Azriel’s eyes darken, moving to climb over you, caging you in before applying more pressure to your clit. You whine, “Az, Please.”

“What do you need, Fireheart ?” He says rubbing your clit faster.

Your back bows, “You. I need you inside me, Az”

Azriel gives you a wicked smirk as his eyes glint, “Maybe. If you ask nicely.” He taunts, using your words against you.

“Please.” You cry out.

He chuckles darkly, before praising you, “Good girl.”

Then you feel the head of his cock rubbing between your soaked folds. Azriel looks like he’s barely holding himself back, so you give him a soft nod and then he’s pushing into you. The stretch makes your eyes screw shut in pain and pleasure, crying out as he buries himself in your cunt. Rubbing the side of your thigh as he coos praises at you.

When he’s finally all the way into the hilt, breathing heavily, “Look at me.” He commands. As soon as your eyes meet his, your breath hitches. Something in your chest snapped. You could feel it, almost like a glowing thread inside you. Grasping onto it, you gave it tug and his jaw clenched.

Brows furrowing as you asked “What is that ?”

“The mating bond.” He answered.

You gave the bond another hard tug and he clenched his jaw again, “You’re my mate ?”

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” He claimed, tugging back.

Giving him a feral smirk, possessiveness lacing your voice. “You’re mine.”

Azriel chuckles darkly, before leaning back down and putting his arms under your back to hold on to your shoulders. Then he’s pulling slowly out before slamming back in. Grunting lowly, “Fuck you’re tight-” his words making you moan loudly, “-my perfect little mate.” The sound only urged him to go faster, harder - to claim. All you could hear was your whimpers and strangled screams, his low groans and breathy moans, as he snapped his hips at a merciless pace.

The fire in your tummy spreads, as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. His name on your lips was a prayer and he was your god as writhed beneath him. Completely and utterly at his mercy. “Azriel - Azriel - Azriel !” Hips bucking, chasing a high only he could give you, crying out his name as you were right on the edge.

Your body felt like it was on fire, biting his shoulder as your release barreled through you. His pace slowed but he didn’t stop as you fell apart. Noticing the sheets gripped in your hands were now turning to ash. He didn’t care, all that mattered was you and your pleasure. He praised you, “Let go, Fireheart. That’s it, just like that. Good girl.”

Still out of breath as you told him, “I want to get on top.” His pupils flared, then he flipped the both of you, so you were on top. Legs still shaking as you braced your hands on his tattooed chest, lifting almost all the way off before sliding back down. You felt so full in this new position. His hands gripping your hips, helping bounce on him. The sound of your ass smacking his thighs had him throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. Then he looked at you as you let out a noise you hadn’t made before.

Taking your hands off his chest, holding onto his forearms with your head thrown back as your plush lips parted. Azriel’s name is a desperate plea on your lips as your tits bounce wildly in front of him. His shadows, moving to grope them and circle your clit. He couldn’t take it, he needed to feel you against him.

Pulling you to his chest as he rutted into, you barely had enough time to catch yourself, your hands flat on the bed. Eyes squeezing shut as you got lost in the pleasure he was providing. Without realizing your nail grazed his wing - that was currently splayed beneath him - and he whimpered. Azriel actually whimpered. You froze, thinking you’d hurt him but he just continued fucking you.

So you traced a single finger along the bony structure closer to the base of his wings, he tensed slightly before he whimpered again. “Am I hurting you ?”

“Only if you stop.” He grunted.

You did it again, then moved closer to the base of his wing. Your nail lightly scraping over the smaller ridges that were there. The walls of your cunt fluttering around him as his cock twitched inside of you in response to your touch. A soft whimper falling from his lips before he cursed as you continued exploring his wings.

Azriel hips stuttered, his voice a desperate breathy hiss, “T- There ! Right there.” As you applied more pressure to one of the small ridges. “Please !” He begged, tipping his head back, hazel eyes screwed shut as he shivered in pleasure. “Does that feel good, baby ?” You whispered in his ear, voice sounding like pure sin.

“Mhmm… Fuck.” He groaned.

Placing a kiss on his neck, right below his ear, “Good boy.” You praise.

He rolled his hips against yours, the pace frenzied and erratic. Adding a little more pressure to his wing and his hips stuttered, shadows moving between the two of you, pinching your nipples and rubbing your clit.

His hands dig into your hips, hard enough to bruise as you bite his shoulder again. Azriel bucked into you a few more times, he gave one last deep thrust as he spilled into you, your name on his lips as he fell apart.

Your walls spasming and contracting, milking every drop of his seed as the both of you fell over the edge together. His shadows finally stop their assault on your overly sensitive nipples and clit, moving to push his and your hair away from your faces. Then Azriel shifts you a little, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead.

His lips still against your forehead as he pants softly, “I love you, Fireheart.”

He moves to lean his forehead against yours and then you breathe, “I love you.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #azriel x reader #shadowsinger #shadowsinger fanfic #shadowsinger smut #shadowsinger x reader #spymaster #spymaster fanfic #spymaster smut #spymaster x reader

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

Note

hi! will you write an aegon x reader imagine in which they are married out of love. and after she gives birth, alicent (or otto idk) requests to see her child like she did to rhaenyra. like what would aegon do to see his wife in pain and how would he react? thank you!

Ugh, I live for this type of angst!!! I reckon Aegon would be so fucking pisssssed. How dare they try to get you to lift a finger, let alone stand after birthing his child!!!! sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy xx

Our Child.

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,948.

WARNINGS: swearing, fluff, angst, Dad!Aegon, mentions of pregnancy/birth, mentions of bullying.

A/N - I apologise for getting carried away with the beginning lmao, but I felt the need to lay some background, so don't mind me. hope you enjoy!

Within this realm, gossip and scepticism was not unfamiliar territory. Especially regarding the livelihood and innocence of maidens such as yourself, whispers were constant, back and forth, the ongoing judgement would never be silenced although, you'd grown ignorant to. It did not matter, many accused you of being a whore, many expressed their disgust over hearing your so-called promiscuous nature, and many had ridiculed your poor upbringing.

"Surely, she's bedded men before, and the Prince seems to not mind? I heard she was betrothed to a farmer in the North, although ran away."

"Aegon is no saint either... Although he is a man, and men have needs."

"What would the Prince want with someone of her kind? She has nothing to offer, not even a dowry, and he is to be King."

The scrutiny was constant, and Aegon knew at times, no matter how well you masked it, that the words stung. He knew your story, having allowed him and granting him the time to really get to know you, Aegon had pestered you for so long, he listened and knew your truth.

The rest were all lies, deceit and gossip, for many lords had intended for their own daughters to wed the King to be.

"The realm have already made up their minds, Aegon, I stand no chance against them."

Aegon did not care. He loved you undeniably, and whatever he saw in you, made him a better man.

"They can answer to me, I'd like to hear their judgement directly."

It was true, no one dared to question Aegon's intentions with you, not at least in front of him. First off, he had a dragon. Secondly, a terribly, quick temper, the notorious Targaryen temper... The two fused well together depending on who asked.

Overtime, just as you always had, the scrutiny of the high class and council did not matter to you, for it was the least of your concerns.

Although, it bothered you greatly that his mother, Queen Alicent, had tuned into such gossip and determined herself that you unworthy.

She did not completely ignore your presence in the castle, although she was cold. She never warmed unto you like she did with other high-borne ladies, nor did she give you the chance to speak or tell your truth. Her mind was made.

Alicent was certain that you had other intentions with her son, that you'd wanted riches, gold, money, anything to help redeem your family's status in society. She assumed that you would use the Crown in all its glory, all through Aegon.

"I see you as you are, Y/N. Aegon may think with his cock when it comes to you, although I see right through you," Her words cut sharp as Valyrian blade, left you defeated and speechless.

Aegon knew of this, for he could tell how quickly your mood had shifted. He knew of his mother's sour attitude towards you, for she'd plead with him many times to let you go, even proposing the idea of offering you money in return that you leave King's Landing for good.

In despite of the adversity, Aegon held his ground, for one of the first times in his life. He remained with you, by your side relentlessly, and defended your honour. He often returned to your chambers tiresome of the repetitive quarrelling with his mother about you, and yet he did not intend to stop, until she'd accepted you. In time, he had asked for your hand, wedding you in a private ceremony, upholding his Valyrian heritage, and not before long, you were with child, Aegon's child and his rightful heir.

****

The birthing was difficult to say the least, going on for a fair few hours in the night, right until sunlight could be seen in the horizon. The instant cry of your newborn babe filled the room, and much to your relief, caused you to beam with a smile on your face, as you embraced the small bub in your arms.

"A boy, your Grace. Kicking like a goat," The experienced midwife exclaimed, as she tended to the sweat dripping on your face, and the blood marked on your cheeks, from kissing the babe, trying to make you somewhat decent if Aegon was to return.

Aegon although, desperate to be with you, was caught in a council meeting. Much to his dismay, his abrupt marriage to you left many lords in uproar as his family had promised them the opportunities for their daughters to meet the young Prince, determined to see if he'd take a liking to one of the them. Many now furious at the Crown, refusing to pay taxes and levies.

As you cradled the baby in your arms, enamoured by the bundle of joy, little shrouds of hair on his head, parallel to his father's Targaryen heritage, his nose even a copy of Aegon's. It was his little twin. Trying to take your son's presence all in, was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door, jolting your attention towards the entrance. Your heart raced with excitement, as you'd relished in the image of Aegon rushing through to your bedside, meeting his newborn son for the first moment ever.

Much to your disappointment it was a knight, although, one that you'd grown familiar to seeing in the Queen's company.

"Apologies to bother you, your Grace. Although, Queen Alicent wishes to see you and the babe at this very moment."

A puzzled look drenched your face, as you scanned the faces of the midwives and maester present during your birth, each of them sharing a discerning look, some quickly looking to their shuffling feet, trying to seem busy.

"Right now?" You stuttered, holding your newborn tightly instinctively.

The knight merely nodded, as though hesitant to giving such orders considering the ordeal you'd endured just mere minutes ago.

Now you'd grown annoyed, you gestured for one of the midwives to hold your dear son, who continued to wail as he left your arms, whilst the others helped you to your feet, blood drenched clothes, pooling down your legs as you gained steadiness.

You couldn't stand by yourself, your head whirling and your belly and thighs aching in a dull pain, sudden movements and long strides caused sharp pains to bellow your lower back and hips, cramping your muscles. It was pain you'd never felt like before.

The maester attempted to convince you of taking milk of the poppy for the walk, although short, would be tormenting with the stairs you had to conquer.

Although, milk of the poppy made you feel weaker, less conscious. You did not want to wish dropping the babe in your arms, nor be less alert for Alicent.

The midwives carefully donned you in a clean, silk gown, attempting to make you as decent and proper as possible, for people began to bustle through the castle now. Hearing their conversations and steps outside the door, for it was morning and you'd grown familiar to its routine.

"Y/N dearest, perhaps we can send a message to the Queen that your condition does not allow for you to travel currently-" The maester pitied.

"No, it is fine. If this is what the Queen wants, this is what she shall get."

The midwife that had held your son, returned him to your arms, as the knight helped to guide you out, holding out his armoured arm as you gripped it tightly for support. Thankfully, he did not rush you, for he could see how slow and careful you were taking your steps.

Some lords and ladies passing by would congratulate you, whilst others remained ignorant to your presence, and some in pure shock that you were travelling in such a state.

Their whispers again, filled the morning air, although before reaching the steps, you'd taken a glance at your newborn son, snug in his blankets. Again, the same, warm smile gleamed on your face as you watched him, before a sharp pain pierced through your lower abdomen. Your grip on the knight tensed and he knew immediately, questioning if you wished to turn back.

"No-No, let's just fucking go."

As you took the first, agonising step up, a familiar voice yelled out your name. Slowly turning back, your body straining, resisting all the physical movement, you could see Aegon down the other side of the corridor, rushing past as he reached your side.

"What's the meaning of this, where are you going in such a state?"

He kept his focus on you, oblivious to the babe in your arms, as one hand massaged your back, whilst the other held your arm for support, as you began to cower in pain.

"Ughh-Y-Your mother, wanted t-to see the babe, now."

You stuttered, your voice trembling as the pain worsened the more you remained on your feet, becoming breathless by the second.

As you mentioned the babe, Aegon looked down, his eyes meeting his newborn son, a cherished look on his face appeared for a split second, before he realised the situation. His eyes darted towards the knight and commanded that he tell his mother, "That would not be wise, if she so wishes to see the babe, she can come down herself."

You reassured the knight that you were fine, as Aegon took his place by your side, turning you back around to your chambers, the midwives still present as they remained cleaning the bloody scene, were relieved to see you return. They all helped you back down cautiously, propping pillows behind your back for support, even preparing a small cup of milk of the poppy, now that you were rested in bed.

"What were you thinking Y/N? Don't you ever think that you need to prove yourself like that, my mother can answer to me."

"I-I don't know, Aegon. She is the Queen, a-and I thought... I am sorry husband."

Aegon had been pacing himself up and down the room, as the midwives left to give you both peace and privacy, shaking and rubbing his head. Out of fury, he slammed his fist against the wooden post of the bed railing, before calming himself. Seating himself down by your side, as he ran his fingers through his short, tussled platinum hair. A low sigh escaping his mouth, as he exchanged a worried look on his face, your hand reaching over to hold his reddened knuckles, as your thumb grazed the small, fresh cut.

"You-You my dearest, need not to apologise, you did nothing wrong. I just cannot fathom how my mother think it okay to torment you like that."

"I-I do not know, Aegon. But rest assured, our son is happy and healthy, come-"

You pulled his fingers, beckoning to come closer, as you pulled down the cover on your son's little face, despite all the mayhem that ensued following his birth, he remained quiet and slept. Unphased by the drama of his presence, he was your calm before the storm.

"He's beautiful isn't he? Our child." You softly whisper, as you looked up from the babe to Aegon, and back down again, gently cradling him in your arms.

Aegon's arm wrapped beneath yours, as his free hand, a finger gently grazed over his son's nose, dotting it. Helplessly, a smile beamed up on his face, as his son cooed against his father's touch.

"As angelic as his mother is." He uttered, before resting his head against your shoulder.

"She will be dealt with, Y/N. Rest assured, I will speak with her and it will be the last time we speak of this matter again. She did not deem me fit to be King before, she will now."

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic requests #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon imagine #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #king aegon ii targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #alicent hightower

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stinkywritin · 4 months

Text

Late Night Devil

Lee Heeseung x male reader

Short synopsis: You catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure and your life’s forever changed…

…a nice way of saying gay vampire Heeseung brain rot

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, essentially PWP, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), top!Heeseung, bottom!male reader, oral (reader receiving), biting kink, praise kink, FILTH IM SORRY

Title from song Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

(a reupload a my favorite fic from my old blog)

You felt eyes on you ever since you arrived at the party.

Ever since you walked through the front doors with your mother and father, you felt as though you were being watched. No matter how many times you turned around and checked, there wasn’t anyone looking.

Not until you got to the banquet hall.

Everything was draped in luxurious red cloth, the high ceilings connected to a glass dome which allowed the guests a full view of the starry night sky. The tables adorned with the finest tablecloths and expensive tableware you felt nervous picking up for fear of breaking it, the near overwhelming amount of candlelight contrasting the darkness of the night. The dark wooden chairs complimented the equally as dark tables, the ballroom devoid of all color except for the hints of burgundy.

You continued to feel watched over even as you slid down onto one of the chairs next to your mother, your black coat draped over the back of the chair as you fiddled with the silver rings on your hand. One of the rings on your finger was etched with your family crest, handed down from your father once you became of adult age and joined your father’s oil business. Light organ notes danced in the air as the chatter amongst guests grew louder, more families arriving and filling up the tables.

“Sit up straight Y/N!” Your mother scorned you, her previous lecture of maintaining the family image still ringing in your ears. Her voice sounded strained through the tight corset, you were pretty sure her internal organs were all smushed together. A tight lipped smile stretched on her face as she looked around the banquet hall, many other families and members of higher society. Politicians, heirs to fortunes, royal family members, everyone who had more money than they knew what to do with.

Through your father’s business, your family was ranked fairly high on the social status, no where near the level of royalty but definitely a name with notoriety. You being the eldest son meant you’re the child who received the burden of continuing you family’s legacy, expected to not only further your business’s success but to also hand it down to another son. Either this or marry into an even richer family but you were never interested in any of the female suitors your father brought to you, denying any advance before retreating into your studies.

Your father suddenly beckoned you to his side across the hall, champagne glass in hand along with the most manufactured smile while speaking to other men with the same expressions. Your face was devoid of any emotion as you walked to join his side, the light tapping of your shoes on the banquet hall tile was drowned out by the band in the corner.

It’s not that you didn’t like your father, quite frankly you didn’t know enough about him in order to form a sold opinion about him. You’d seen his multimillion dollar company run so many small villages into the ground, clearing out acres of land for hopes of even drilling a single drop of oil. You heard the protests of the people in your country, pleading for companies to stop their mindless destruction of land but like all the other companies, your father didn’t listen. You had no intention of continuing the family business, hoping that maybe one of your siblings would take it over or that you could personally destroy it from the inside out. Plans to escape the damned family business flooded your mind as you stood next to your father, stone faced as he bragged to a distant colleague about whatever bullshit rich old men brag about.

It was during a conversation about coal plants that you saw him for the first time.

Your eyes mindlessly moved along the grand staircase, up along the marbled railing of the balcony, before spotting him alone with his hands folded along the railing. Eyes instantly meeting yours.

His skin was perfectly smoothed and sculpted, his appearance statuesque as he held strong eye contact with you. The darkness in his eyes matched the slant in his grin, a devious smirk was on his lips as his eyes raked you in, seemingly drawing you closer to him. The dark strands on his head complimented the dark velvet coat on his shoulders, the ruffles of his white shirt peaking forward elegantly.

“Y/N what do you think?” Your father’s voice interrupted your speechless encounter with the brunette, ripping your eyes from the beauty before you to bring you back to Earth. Dante himself wouldn’t be able to fully capture the beauty of the man you laid your eyes on, his descriptions of heaven coming second to the allure of the man who captured your attention.

“Sorry come again?” You replied haphazardly, already tuning out the conversation before you look back up to the gorgeous creature from before. Only in the mere seconds you looked away, he had vanished. Your bewildered eyes searched all over the balcony for him, refusing to believe he was a figment of your imagination.

“Sorry gentlemen please excuse me one moment” you politely moved away from the men, leaving behind a group of insulted men and your angry father. Your heart rate picked up as you began your search for the man from earlier, refusing to let him leave your life as quickly as he had entered.

Your footsteps echoed in the hallways of the palace, the tiled floor ways leading to multiple different rooms. You came across a portrait in a hallway far from the banquet hall, the frame picturing a family with an only child. A son whose eyes seemed to bore into your sole, the faces of the parents had been scratched out, the colors worn pale from age.

“Such a shame isn’t it?” A rich, melancholic voice startled you from your spot before the portrait, the handsome stranger from before suddenly appearing behind you. You hadn’t heard his footsteps, nor any other indication he was near you. “The colors were much more divine when the portrait was freshly made.”

“When was it painted?” You asked the stranger, his smile was playful as his eyes shifted from you to the painting.

His hands were folded behind his lower back as he spoke up, “I stopped counting after the third century.”

Well fuck. Even though everything about that response screamed ‘don’t come near me I’m dangerous,’ something about the way his eyes flatly observed the portrait before you pulled you in for more.

“Do you know the family?” You asked, your voice wavering as you continued to take in his appearance. The man before you seemed to have discarded his coat, the silk of his white shirt now on full display. There wasn’t a single wrinkle, every fold was pressed neatly on his body. If elegance was a person it truly would be him.

“Do you always stutter when asking questions?” His eyes quickly turned to make eye contact with you, a playful slant adorned his lips at his teasing. You couldn’t help the rush of heat to your face, hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your face but judging by how his smile grew, it was evident he saw it.

“I guess only when I’m talking to pretty people” you shrugged, your eyes traveling away from his to study the portrait once again. The scratch marks on the faces of the parents tore through the canvas, making it obvious someone took a knife to the portrait. Although the colors were muted, you didn’t doubt that the robes and silks worn by the parents were more expensive than your father’s entire company. Then there was the little boy. He looked no more than 6 years of age, cheeks puffed and eyes full of childlike wonder, his face was the only one still remaining on the portrait.

“You can do better than juvenile pick up lines” the man scoffed, your eyes snapping back to him just in time to see him stifle a laugh. “This isn’t a school courtyard.”

You let out a chuckle, already cringing on your cheesy one liner. “I apologize for that sir but I don’t apologize for the pretty laugh it let me hear from you.” Now it was his turn to blush.

It was the chiming of the bells from the clock tower that erased the relaxed feeling between you two.

“Excuse me sir L/N but I’m afraid that’s my queue to leave.” As he started to turn on his heal away from you, a tight feeling within you snapped and you reached out to grab his wrist. Immediately you felt his ice cold skin on your hand, his face contorted in shock as he looked back to you. “What are you-“

“How did you know my last name?” You interrupt him, his furrowed brows softening on his face.

“Seeing as how I made the guest list I’m well acquainted with your family Y/N” his cheeky grin was back, his wrist still in your grasp. You relaxed your hold to let him escape but instead he took another step closer towards you.

“You’re part of the Lee family?” You questioned, even if you already knew the answer. The Lee family was one of the wealthiest royal families in the country, owning a luxurious castle away from all the surrounding villages. Your father said they were weird and antisocial but seeing as how they donated to many charities and political campaigns in the villages, they were immensely powerful. No one from the Lee family held any political or government position in centuries but that didn’t mean they weren’t pulling the strings from afar.

“And you still don’t seem to know my name?” His spunky grin broke you from your deep thoughts. You were face to face with a member of one of the most powerful families in the country, your father’s complaints of their wealth ringing in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I just didn’t think I’d ever meet someone from your family.” You honestly stated, barely noticing just how close he was to you. Your noses were mere inches apart, a strong enough breeze would’ve been able to bring you two together

“Heeseung.” His voice was slightly above a whisper before he continued, “my name is Lee Heeseung.”

Before your brain could talk you out of it, you took his hand in yours before bringing the back of his palm up to your mouth. You have a slight bow as you pressed a feather like kiss to his ice cold skin, you knew he still had that damn smirk on his face even if your eyes were closed. “It’s an honor to meet you Heeseung, I’m F/N L/N of the L/N family.”

“I’m aware” he snatched his hand back, although the grin was still plastered on his face. “This is my home after all.”

Before turning around to leave, he added “Meet me back here at midnight.” It wasn’t a question, more of an order, but you wouldn’t have refused either way.

“I’ll be waiting.” You gave one more curt bow, at which he scoffed and walked away from you. You noticed he wasn’t walking back in the direction of the banquet hall, in fact he was going in the opposite direction.

You turned back towards the portrait before you and as you looked at the boy in the painting again you felt a heavy weight in the pit of your chest. You could suddenly recognize the boy being Heeseung, a smiling young Heeseung. And suddenly the remark of the painting being more than three centuries old made that weight in your chest even heavier.

——

True to your word you returned to your unofficial meeting spot.

It was a pain in the ass trying to shake off your parent’s prying eyes and overwhelming amount of questions. You hid the fact that you had met — and flirted — with Lee Heeseung from both of your parents, you knew they would demand that you introduced them to him so you made up a lie about getting lost trying to find a bathroom. Seeing your parents fake smiles and having to endure a terrible sales pitch from your father was a special kind of hell that you didn’t want Heeseung to experience. Thankfully they believed your lie and didn’t press any further, leaving you alone for the rest of the evening.

It was a little before midnight, right when you were about to leave to see Heeseung again, that you spoke to your mother. You told her you would stay behind for a little while longer and that they should leave without you, that you’d call a cab later and meet them back at the house. She seemed hesitant to leave you, wanting to know why you would be staying behind but in the end she hesitantly left with your father.

“Just promise you’ll be back in the morning?” She pleaded, cradling your face in the palms of her hands. “Or at least call me in the morning to let me know you’re still alive?”

“Yes mother don’t worry I’ll let you know everything” you offered her a wide grin as she pulled back, the clicks of her heels hitting the tiled floor growing quieter. Once she had gotten in the car with your father, you turned and quickly walked back to the hallway from earlier that evening.

—-

The corridors were empty, only the sound of your hurried footsteps could be heard echoing off the walls. The painting was still just as magnificent as it was earlier in the evening, except as you footsteps took you close to it, you could feel that familiar weight in your chest again. The breaths picked up as you eyed the portrait again, this time feeling as though it was pulling you in.

“You came back” the same honey voice startled you, Heeseung suddenly appearing next to you. He grinned at your attempts to catch your breath, your eyes still wide from the scare he gave you.

“Of course” you huffed out, composing yourself by straightening your back to look him in the eye. “I had some questions.”

Heeseung quirked his head to the side while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the smile still plastered in his face. “Questions?” He paused, you gave a shaky nod in reply. “Alright well, ask away.”

“Is that you?” You pointed to the little boy in the portrait, his goddamn grin was making it ten times harder for you to focus on trying to make sense of him.

“Yes that’s me.” Heeseung flatly responded, his eyes traveling to look at the portrait. “I think that was my sixth birthday if I can recall correctly.”

“And you said this was made over three centuries ago correct?” Your voice was wavering, your whole body feeling heavy with anxiety and dread. “How old are you?”

“Y/N don’t you know it’s considered rude to ask someone their age when you first meet?” Heeseung’s met with yours again, seemingly able to bore holes into your brain. As if he could sense the panic coursing through your veins, he sighed before answering “I can’t remember how old I am or how many years are passing by, they all seem to blur together and over time I found it’s easier to not count my age anymore.”

Heeseung’s entire demeanor changed; he was no longer carrying himself with a high level of confidence, instead of the usual cockiness there was a melancholic tone to his voice as he longingly stared at the portrait.

He continued, “I was normal just like you, just human. Until at age 20 I was turned into this by my lover. He turned me into this so that we could be together for all of eternity but shortly after I turned he was killed by some hunters from a village up north. I was 20, a freshly turned vampire and completely estranged by my family for choosing a male lover.” He clutched something in his hand, turning it over before he took a seat on the tiled floor. His back was pressed against the dark walls as he beckoned you to sit next to him.

Once you were sat next to him, your hands making contact with the cold tiles of the floor as your back rested against the wall, you could see a small locket in his hands. The metal was scuffed and old, showing signs of years of use.

“This family,” Heeseung continued. “It’s made up of vampires from all over the country who are just like me. No family to turn to, no friends and partners to depend on, nothing. The Lee family took me in, no questions asked and I’ve been here since. And while the banquets and parties have been quite distracting, I still haven’t been able to find anyone to grow closer to, not since I died and became this.”

A fresh tear had escaped from Heeseung’s eye, it traveled down his cheek until hitting the floor, the man not bothering to wipe it away.

“I’m sorry Heeseung” you shakily whispered, hoping your voice was loud enough to be heard by the vampire next to you. The weight you had felt in your chest earlier — the intense panic over what creature Heeseung was and whether or not he was dangerous — had started dissipating at his words. Not entirely however, and it seemed Heeseung could still sense the remaining anxieties.

“Don’t apologize I haven’t even answered your question yet,” Heeseung wiped the remains of his tears off of his cheek while letting out a small — forced — chuckle. You were forced to go to banquets and business meetings and a bunch of other gatherings of snobby rich people, you were used to fake smiles and even faker laughs; however Heeseung’s was the most heartbreaking of all.

“As for age all I can say for sure is that I’ve been a vampire for a little over 400 years,” Heesung’s fingers messed with the locket in his hand as he spoke. “Anything else you’d like to ask Mr. L/N”

Heeseung had cocked his head to look at you, his eyes instantly letting yours. Sitting beside you was a supposed ‘creature of the undead’, something that up until recently you believed to be fake and the material for fiction. And yet the way Heeseung’s smile seemed to fill your being with bliss was anything but fiction, the way he had drawn you in even if you had only met that evening was a beautiful reality.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t still have questions.

“If you say you ran away to join this family how did you get that painting?” The teasing in your tone evoked a surprised laugh from Heeseung, the atmosphere surrounding you two had lightened, no longer full of worry.

“I’ve been alive longer than your great grandparents don’t question how I get stuff brat” Heeseung playfully pinched your shoulder, sending you two into a lighthearted scuffle that ended with Heeseung’s thighs straddling your lower torso.

“Ok I yield!” You huffed out between fits of laughter. As your chest rose and fell from your attempts to catch your breath, you could suddenly feel how close Heesung was. His hands held your wrists to the floor, his upper body draped over yours. “Okay one last question.”

“Ugh enough with the questions!” Heeseung chuckled out. After seeing the pleading look in your eyes he nodded his head, telling you it was okay to ask what was on your mind.

“Why did you ask me to come back here at midnight?” You asked, the underlying tone of your question being ‘are you going to kill me because I would please like to know in advance’.

“Is my interest in you not obvious enough?” Heeseung softly replied, grin widening when he sees the blush rise to your face. The hands that were on your wrists were now interlocking with yours, his hands delicately squeezing yours as he rested his forehead atop yours. “And here I was thinking you were also interested.”

“I am!” You helped out, causing a fit of giggles to erupt from Heeseung at your eagerness.

Heeseung’s hands were still interlocked with yours as he calmed down, his face still so close to yours. The way his eyes were sparkling with joy made the weight dissipate completely. Heeseung’s faced leaned impossibly closer to yours, his lips mere centimeters away from yours. “You’re so gorgeous the second I saw you I knew I had to talk to you. I knew I would miss the rest of the banquet because I had some business to take care of with another town’s mayor. Corrupt politicians and what not, such a pain to clean blood stains on carpets by the way.” Heeseung rolled his eyes at his comment, you could feel your heart rate pick up at the way his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips.

“But I knew I had to see you again which is why I asked you to meet me here.” You felt your dick twitch at his words, the smirk playing on his lips was evidence he felt it too.

He started to slowly — so achingly slowly — roll his hips over your bulge. “The entire job I pleaded with the universe to let me see you again, all I could think about was how gorgeous you are Y/N.”

“Heeseung” you panted out, the fabric around your cock getting tighter. “Please kiss me.”

“Absolutely my love” Heeseung’s lips slotted perfectly with yours, your body heat felt as though it rose an extra 30 degrees. The way his lips fit with yours felt like an explosion of pure bliss, immediately opening your mouth to let his tongue in. The way Heeseung kissed you as if he was planning on devouring you made your head spin.

It could’ve been 30 seconds or 3 years but the kiss felt of pure heaven. No amount of time would ever be enough to fully satisfy the need you felt for each other, you thought this as Heeseung’s hip rolls began getting faster. After a particularly loud moan escaped your lips, Heeseung murmured into your ear, “Let me take you to bed my beauty.”

You eagerly nodded as he lifted you both up on your feet, leading you to his bedroom door while having his hand interlaced with yours. You two couldn’t help the giggles or the chaste kisses while you ran to his room.

—-

“Lie on your back for me sweetheart” Heeseung’s voice has seemed to drop a few octaves, sounding huskier as he pushed you back onto his silk sheets and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

You quickly undid the laces of your boots, chucking them across the room before fumbling with the buttons on your shirt. You huffed in annoyance as you had difficulty getting your shirt off, Heeseung — who was now shirtless — took notice of your frustration and let out a low chuckle. His hands clasped yours as he placed them on you, slowly moving your hands down onto the bed before eagerly grabbing the collar of your blouse and tearing the fabric open. You gasped at the sound of the fabric ripping but quickly began to let out a deep groan as Heeseung began placing soft kisses down your chest. His lips were ice cold, making goosebumps rise all over your body from the drastic shift in temperature.

“There’s no time for slowly unbuttoning clothing” Heesung whispered into the skin on your sternum. His eyes switched back up to meet yours, the look of pure lust painting his eyes, “I want you now.”

“Then take me.” You gasped as Heeseung pushed your upper body down onto his bed, grabbing your hips and quickly pulling down your trousers and underwear, leaving you bare under him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you to bring him into another heated kiss. You felt the fabric of his pants on your cock as he began to grind his clothed bulge onto yours. The friction causing you to bite at his lower lip, your fingernails scratching onto the skin on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to graze over your bulge, the cold skin causing a shiver to run up your spine.

Heeseung continued to kiss and bite at the skin on your jawline as he wrapped a hand around your cock, giving it a harsh but arousing tug. “Knew you would sound heavenly darling” Heeseung said into your ear, the strokes of his hand becoming more even. “Knew it the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Heeseung-“ you were cut off by your own whine as Heesung sharply removed his hand to slap your thigh.

“That’s hyung to you brat” Heeseung gave your thigh another harsh smack before bringing two fingers up to your lips. The pads of his icy fingertips grazing along your lower lip so slightly you could barely feel it. “Now open up.”

You opened your mouth to let his fingers dance along your tongue, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sighing. Heeseung’s eyes were fixated on the sight of you sucking on his fingers, his cock growing harder. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth before sliding them over your tight hole, inserting one finger in as you gasped in surprise. His fingers were still so, so cold, causing you to shiver again.

He slowly worked his finger in and out of your hole, teasing his second one before pushing them both in and stretching you open. As his fingers worked to stretch you open, Heeseung licked a stripe from your thigh to the base of your cock. You let out a loud yelp as he licked up the length of your cock, your hands flying to yank at the dark locks on his head. “Oh hyung that feels so good” you moaned out, your eyes squeezing shut from the overwhelming waves of pleasure that were washing over your body.

His fingers quickened their pace as Heeseung’s dark eyes looked up at you, he whispered with the head of your cock pressed against his bottom lip, “cum in my mouth gorgeous.” Heeseung’s mouth took you in, warmth engulfing your entire body as you cried out in pleasure. You could feel the pleasure overcoming you, making your brain foggy as all your senses were being overwhelmed.

All of a sudden the coil in you snapped, you came down his throat as he eagerly swallowed every drop you let out. Even as you came down from the intense feeling, his fingers were still working you open — albeit at a slower pace. When his fingers grazed your prostate you shivered while your thighs began to shake, throwing Heeseung a confused gaze.

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” His smirk causing your thoughts to muddle, he abruptly removed his fingers before smacking your thigh again. “Sit up now darling I haven’t gotten my fix yet.”

He laid back against the dark wood of his bedpost, a pillow separating his lower back from the wood. He removed his pants and underwear before turning to you and patting his thigh, beckoning you over. You let out a small chuckle, your post orgasm brain somehow finding the cheesiness of it all a little amusing.

Heeseung tilted his head in confusion as you crawled over, placing his hands on your hips before saying, “why are you laughing, darling?” He pulled you down to sit on his lower torso, his cock nestled between your cheeks which caused the blush on your face to deepen in slight embarrassment.

“You’re so cute” you placed an innocent peck on his lips, Heeseung gave you what felt like a hundred more as a response. He held you close as the grin on his face grew larger, both of your giggles breaking the kisses. As you both calmed down from your giggling fit, the eye contact you held began intensifying. Heeseung’s eyes seemed to hold all the stars in the night sky with the way they sparkled up at you, the light blush on his face deepening as you held him close.

His hand ran through the hair on the nape of your neck, his wide eyes and large grin seemed to distract you from the fact that you were both completely bare. His finger started to drag from the bottom of your ear down the slope of your neck before whispering, “Can I bite you darling?”

You could feel your soft length grow interested at his question, your eyes widened as they filled with curiosity. “You want to turn me?” Your question made the vampire look up at you, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“I don’t have to turn you.” Heeseung started, his cold hands tightening their grip on your skin. “I can feed from you and as long as I don’t take too much you’ll still be alive and, well, human.”

When the word ‘feeding’ fell from the man’s lips, you suddenly remembered the man — the vampire — below you could very easily kill you in two ways; by either draining all the blood from your body or turning you into an undead creature for the rest of eternity.

“I’ve been alive a long time Y/N” Heeseung’s voice bringing you back to the present. He continued, “I can control my appetite, I will not take more than you can handle and I will stop if you tell me to. You have my word darling.”

Instead of giving him a verbal response, you tilt your head to the side to give him full access to your neck and collarbones and nodded. Heeseung’s hands roughly pulled your hips up, aligning his length with your entrance before pulling you back down to sit on his lap. Your body shivered at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, the head of Heeseung’s cock was pressing against your g spot, leaving you full.

As you tried moving your hips, Heeseung would stop your movements to slam you back down onto his lap. His hands moved from your hips further down to hold your ass, his tongue licking over a spot on the crook of your neck. Your neglected length had been interested even after already orgasming once, however all pleasure before this failed in comparison to the feeling of Heeseung’s fangs piercing into your skin. His hips moved achingly slowly as he sunk his teeth into your neck, your grip on him tightening. Even if you had only met Heeseung that night you already knew he had ruined sex with anyone else in the future, it would be only him for the rest of your existence.

Heeseung’s hips kept a slow pace, his soft groan was muffled while he fed from your neck. The intense pleasure coming from Heeseung’s movements juxtaposed the sharp pain on your neck, your post orgasm brain becoming even muddier. You felt Heeseung remove his fangs from your neck, placing kisses on the marks left behind while his hips picked up a faster pace. The sounds of your bodies moving together echoed throughout the room, your pants being interrupted by Heeseung’s voice in your ear giving you encouragements.

“There you go, that’s my good boy.”

“Knew I had to have you the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Darling you tasted so good, did so well for me.”

“Be as loud as you can for me Y/N, don’t hold back.”

The familiar sensation from earlier came back, this time magnified by ten. You could feel your muscles tightening as you reached your climax, your grip on Heeseung’s shoulders becoming more tense.

“Hyung I’m close,” you whined out. His thrusts were precise and fast, aiming and nailing your g spot head on every time.

“How cute,” Heeseung’s low voice went straight to your hard cock, his hand wrapping around your length and stroking in tandem with his hips. He continued, “My good boy wants to cum for me a second time. Make a mess for me sweet boy, I’m right there with you.”

You reached a moment of euphoria, your entire body tightening up before you came all over Heeseung’s hand. You felt Heeseung reach his high because his thrusts stilled, his grip on your body tightened before he went slack. Your body slumped into his as you now began trying to catch your breath. You heard Heeseung let out a giggle as he held up your tired body.

“Nope you’re not getting off that easy.” Heeseung quickly flipped you onto your back below him, the speed shaking you awake. His body was bent over yours, he brought one of his hands up to your mouth and put his palm to your lips. It was the palm that was covered in your release, “lick it off baby, you’re helping me clean up.”

You quickly licked your release off his hand, holding eye contact with him the entire time so you could see his proud smirk. His lips graced yours once you finished, your entire body slugging back into the sheets below you. “I’ll be right back baby.”

Your eyelids felt heavy while you watched him get off his bed, making his way across the room while nude which gave you a shameless view of his body.

He returned momentarily with some bandaids, along with a glass of water. “Sit up for me darling,” he said as he sat down next to you, putting the glass of water into your hands once you were up right. You lazily drank from the cup as Heeseung applied the bandaids to the wounds on your neck. “It’s not too bad but better safe than sorry.”

It seemed the vampire’s entire demeanor had changed, his touches soft on your skin as he took your now empty cup and placed it elsewhere. He laid back next to you, pulling the covers over your bodies before pulling you closer to him. “How do you have so much energy?” You grumbled, looking up at the vampire to see his bright smile.

“I don’t get tired,” Heeseung’s hand carded through your hair and scratched your scalp as he started talking, making it very difficult to stay awake. He continued, “It’s that vampire stamina, I don’t need sleep or rest. I don’t eat food either, well besides blood but it doesn’t have to be human. I physically can sleep, I just don’t need it to function so it’s basically just a nap.”

“Does that mean you can go another round?” Your hand had been lazily tracing patterns onto the vampire’s cold skin, slowly moving down his torso. Your body was still sluggish from your two orgasms but seeing the devious glint in Heeseung’s eyes was lighting a flame to your body.

“I don’t think you can keep up with me baby” Heeseung roughly pulled the (H/C) strands on the back of your head, pulling you up to make direct eye contact with him. “But if you insist.”

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, the feeling of his fangs eliciting a high pitched whine from the back of your throat; you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

Authors Note: Hey it’s V sorry about deleting my old blog but I’ll bring back a majority of my old fics. If you enjoyed, thank you very much !!! These are v fun to make and help me take my mind off real life stuff lmao. That’s it for now, brb folks -V

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x male reader #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x male reader

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thelibrarian1895 · 1 month

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Gotham Rich People

So there are other millionaires and billionaires in Gotham besides Bruce Wayne.

I'll wait for you to get over the shock.

You good? Ok

There are other stupidly rich people in Gotham. A thought that if you've really made it in stupidly rich society in the dc verse then you have to have some property in Gotham where you stay for like a month or so every year like it's the regency society season. It's a sign that you're so ridiculously rich that it doesn't matter if someone steals your priceless painting or holds you for ransom because you can afford it and still be ridiculously rich. You are rich enough that your bodyguards are so skilled that they can keep you safe in Gotham. Because people are stupid and people who are rich and want to be snobs about it and show off tend to be a little more so than not.

Ridiculously rich seasonal Gothamites will also absolutely think that being kidnapped and held for ransom by one crime family or another or a rogue shows a different level of quality and status. Because they are just that bored and just that rich. And it lets them deal with the ✨trauma✨ ala gallows humor.

Lex Luthor has a bunch of snobby rich people look down their noses at him because he doesn't have Gotham property (Bruce keeps outbidding him when he tries and then Tim does the same when Bruce is busy because neither want Luthor in their city though sometimes people just won't sell if they find out it's Luthor trying to buy the property because they don't want him in the city either) and while he's rich enough to make mechs to go after Superman he can't afford quality Gotham caliber bodyguards.

Oliver Queen might have had a tiny by rich people standards apartment in Gotham, he inherited it. It may have been destroyed during the quake. He doesn't bother to rebuild or buy a new one and just stays in fancy hotel if he has to be in Gotham for any length of time and grumbles that Bruce won't let him crash at his place.

Tim gets Drake Manor back, if he didn't have it already, and puts it in his and Kon's name so Kon can be smug at Luthor because Kon has property in Gotham. Tim might come up with another secret identity as Connor Luthor's Gotham bodyguard just for fun. Superman may be Luthor's villain nemesis, Tim is determined to make himself Luthor's social and business nemesis because Tim apparently doesn't have enough people who want his head on a pike. Also fewer people give Tim well meaning lectures against villainy when Tim makes trouble for Luthor than when he's made trouble for Clark after Clark has said or done something dumb to Kon. Plus having a business nemesis makes being primary shareholder in Wayne Enterprises less mind numbing for Tim.

These other stupidly rich people also end up getting fleeced for millions by the Waynes for the Wayne charities because if they're going to have all these extra idiots to keep an eye on then these extra idiots are going to pay for things like the road work that the city isn't paying for because the city budget was embezzled by some jerk who ran off with the money to some other hole in the ground.

If Jason is bored enough he will be one of those rogues who kidnaps one of the Gotham elite visiting for their maintain the status month and the ransom money goes directly to literacy and educational programs. This way his preferred causes are funded and he doesn't have to be stuck in a suit at a horribly boring gala where he has to be polite. He is also considered the top tier platinum star in rogues to be kidnapped by since he is professional, has kidnapped Waynes before (Damian convinced him to do it so Damian could get out of a series of civilian parties and go hang out with Jon instead and a few times Cass has gotten Jason to "kidnap" her so she doesn't have to deal with a gala either) and is known for returning people when the ransom is paid. He has, on occasion, returned people after the ransom demands were made and denied and it is later discovered that he took the ransom anyway and the person who denied to pay the ransom finds themselves in serious physical and legal trouble. Seasonal Gotham rich people will absolutely brag about having been kidnapped by the Red Hood who clearly has good taste in hostages.

#bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #gotham #lex luthor #kon el #jason todd #damian wayne #young just us #cassandra wayne #damian wayne al ghul

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kaiser1ns · 1 month

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𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗡𝗘 一 𝗢𝗡𝗘'𝗦 𝗗𝗨𝗧𝗬

𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

SERIES MASTERLIST ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ NEXT SCROLL

╹synopsis :: a skilled samurai had the task to assassinate one of the four landlord's daughter but things went in another direction when his parents decided to marry him off to her.

╹contents :: 2,4k words, historical!au, arranged mirage!au ; mentions of blood, murder, assassination ; symbolism with the names. read a/n at the end for more information.

╹notes :: first chapter of the itoshi sae fanfic, hope you like it ! this fanfic will have slow updates !

╹taglist :: @wirednintkoko @i-love-frensh-fries @steleir @beidousbubz @aoiropetal @raphsimp @rroxii @multi-101 @c4ttheart

Holding his two metal swords, slashing the men's throats as their bodies dropped dead onto the brown tatami mats as now they began to acquire a red color. It's his duty as one of the highest ranked samurai to keep the Shogunate territory all safe and sound, leaving no trace of his or anyone else's deeds. Another job done with even more cleaning afterwards. He sighed heavily, as he tore a cloth from the dead man's robe to wipe the blood from his katana.

"You've got some nice finishing moves, Itoshi-dono." said an unknown voice behind the man who put away his weapons and removed the samurai mask and helmet that covered his face. Scarlet hair and blue-green eyes with underlashes, flashed in the dark room, his gaze was empty as if he had no soul — and by the way he just killed these people, he was heartless too.

"I am not doing this only for the honorary, work is work and it has to be done." the redhead said, stepping outside the room and closing it with the sliding door, turning around to look at the man, "Have someone clean this mess, I have to report to the Shogun." his tone carried this not as a message but an order as he walked past them, letting them do the dirty work.

Going in the direction of the river, in its ridge to cleanse himself from yet again another sin, but no matter how many times he washes his hands, clothes or swords — the stains of the endless suffering, the voices of the innocent and not, cannot be erased. They will always be a part of him, as long as he is alive.

Itoshi Sae was the name of the samurai, a young man who served the Shogunate's secret assassination group but he was also part of the main army holding a very high ranking and status because he was the firstborn from the nobel Itoshi Family.

The Itoshi clan is the most powerful and most important of all four great clans that dominated Japanese politics — the other three are the Tsurukawa, the Mikage, and the Hiori families, who also had their representative heirs.

The moonlight danced on the surface of the water, casting an ethereal glow reflecting in his eyes. Quite the contrast with the vivid light full of life, and his dull gaze that lacked brightness and vitality. He reached the riverbank, stopping in one place to listen to the gentle lapping of the water against the shore, a soothing sound for his troubled mind.

With deep breath he began to remove his blood-stained armor, letting it fall to the ground causing a loud noise from the weight. Leaving him only with his usual attire that consisted of a black kimono, white hakama and dark blue haori jacket with white wisteria flower on the back - the Itoshi clan symbol of devotion, longevity and resilience.

Sae quickly washed whatever he could, as he put it on again and set off again for the Shogunate's residence in a nearby town. And once he got there he received a warm welcome from the maids but he paid them no mind, he didn't care if there was someone to welcome him or not, the boy just wanted the earned money from his majesty — Ego Jinpachi, an ambitious and overly confident ruler but beneath that facade, is something even more sinister as he is extremely egotistical, cruel, and self-serving man who does not tolerate traitors and liars, and that's why people like Itoshi Sae are recruited into his secret organization.

"You are here earlier than expected," the Shogunate said taking a bite of his food, while the samurai got on the floor and bowed "I'm done with what you needed me for, they are dead and soon there will be no evidence for their lives." he replied with a tone of obedience, maintaining a composed demeanor, his thoughts hidden behind his mask.

"There's nothing you can't do, always with excellent and quick performance." the black haired answered "Now, a letter from your family came, saying it was urgent for you to check. But before that, come with me, I have another task specifically for you." Both men stood up and walked away from the big dining hall, going to the Shogunate personal library, that was kept away from anny prying eyes. It was a dark place, as dark as the Shogunate secret with only a few candles to lit up and to provide visibility.

"I need you to kill the daughter of the Tsurukawa clan. You know, the young princess who talks bad about me and what I do behind doors. I have eyes and ears everywhere. My men, including me, think she is crazy because no woman has the right to talk like this and most importantly about the one who feeds them.” The samurai just listened, observing the Shogun’s body language and tone of speaking and how the word kill came out so easily from his mouth. Even though he harbored no personal attachment to his targets, the idea of killing another noble for the sake of political power wasn't unheard of but he knew better than anyone not to question the orders of his superior.

But why exactly Y/N of the Tsurukawa Family? She wasn't the only one who talked about his wrong doings but she was alive, unlike others. Sae won't deny that he had know her for most of his live as they both were the firstborns and same age — with the only difference being that the lady was an only child and the redhead had a little brother — but he definitely heard her name mentioned when there was talk of the Shogun and some kind of revolution against him. That woman spoke nonsense left and right — or at least ran nonsense for all he cared, only those like Itoshi Sae knew what was going on behind the closed doors of the empire. That's a concern for another day.

"As you wish, my lord," Sae responded with a shallow bow, his voice trailed with no emotion. "Consider it done."

The Shogunate nodded, a murderous look in his eyes that seems to be second nature to him. "Oh, and more thing Itoshi, you will have one whole year to do this, starting from next week with the first cherry blossomed tree." he said, tone monotone like it was that normal to talk about assassination "This will be your longest mission and if you don't complete it by next spring you know what awaits you. So don't make me do the unthinkable. Now you are dismissed."

With a nod, the young man took his leave, thinking about what the Shogun just ordered him to do — to kill Tsurukawa Y/N until the next spring — and despite her outspokenness and rebellious nature, very unusual behavior for a woman at that, she had always been there, next to him on official dinners, paintings or playing together with wooden swords as kids. And now she had to be gone.

As he departed from Ego's dinner time with other important politicians, his thoughts drifted back to the letter from his family, he hasn't been home for months, and apparently now is the time to do so. Arriving at his quarters in the rooms of the residence, Sae retrieved the manuscript letter, the elegant calligraphy of his family's crest a stark contrast to the bloodstains that still lingered on his hands. Without further ado, he untied the thread and the scroll unfolded.

—

Itoshi Sae, from the Itoshi Family. Please come home as soon as possible, by the time you read this letter no more than three days will have passed, and it will be one more day till you return. The matter requires your presence as the future head of the family, so please get home immediately.

—

Could Rin be causing trouble again? No, it shouldn't be that. Someone must have gotten sick or died, if they seek him physically. Maybe another idiot wants to fight him? The last time he fought someone from another lower clan or a drunkard, things didn't end very well. What could possibly be happening, he didn't care about being the next head, but had to pretend for the sake of his parents' honor. With a heavy and hopeless sigh, he tucked the letter into his cloak. He will think about it tomorrow morning when he leaves.

The morning is wiser than the night as old people tend to say, something new and exciting will await anybody but sometimes it's okay to look in the past that the night helds. Memories flooded his thoughts as he traversed familiar paths, the small pond with fish or the wooden puppets that he practiced on, reminiscing about the carefree days of his childhood before his life became entangled with the the dark side of the political power and hierarchy be it assassination, stealing important information and artifacts, weapons, you name it - he's done it.

Upon reaching the grand gates of his family's house, the samurai was greeted by the sincere smiles of his servants. "Welcome home, Itoshi Sae-sama." The people in front of whom he grew up, and they watched as he became a handsome and strong man, started to welcome and praise him. Their hushed whispers and furtive glances only deepened his sense of curiosity — something big is going to happen, and just hoped it wasn't something that important to involve him.

As he stepped into the ancestral home, entering the main hall, the samurai's eyes met those of his parents, they were happy to finally see their son — the reason of their pride and joy. There was silence as he entered, kneeling on the floor with the tops of the feet flat against the ground, sitting back on his heels, and bowing deeply from the waist with the hands placed palms down on the thighs or folded in front, looking around carefully — his father and mother were there, as well as his younger brother Rin, who was sitting next to their father. Sae's gaze fell upon a girl, an unfamiliar persona. New maid, perhaps? He remembered how his mother was very tired of doing garden work so maybe they hired someone.

Her face hid behind the golden fan she was holding and the only uncovered part was her e/c eyes as she also looked at him. Adorned in a beautiful red kimono, probably made of the most luxurious and finest silk with white crane and floral patterns with gold threads, the greenish obi was intricately tied on her waist. The flowing, wide sleeves accentuated her gracefulness, defining her silhouette with elegance, the Shimada styled hair into a large, elaborate bun on top of the head, decorated with golden comb, as she stood beside his mother.

His gaze did not miss every single detail even for a second, but this is very strange because that's not a worker's outfit. Could this be Rin's fiancé? He is two years younger than Sae and had time till marriage and the letter hadn't mentioned the true reason for his urgent return.

Oh ...

The realisation hit him like a swift cut from his most sharpest katana — marriage. The girl infront of him, is the bride. Oh sweet, Bishamonten, giving another battle to his fortune warrior. Sae's father, observing his son's reaction, cleared his throat to gain his attention. "Sae, we have summoned you here today to discuss an important matter concerning your future and the prosperity of our family." His words echoing with calming tone, "As you know, our family's honor is of utmost importance to us. It is with great consideration that we have arranged a mirage for you." He paused, allowing the weights of his words to sink in before continuing, "And to continue our legacy and alliances with the Tsurukawa Family."

He tried to be calm, to keep his composure, but his facial expression and his widened eyes gave it away. The Tsurukawa Family, the same family Ego ordered him to assassinate their heir. There's no way that's possible, the Gods above can't play such a joke on him right now.

"We understand that this may come as a surprise to you, but rest assured, it is a decision made with the utmost care and consideration for your well-being." He gestured towards the other feminine figure beside his wife, indicating the girl to put down her fan, revealing her full face. That was Tsurukawa Y/N — the young lady from the second clan in power, the same girl that will be killed by his own hands, the woman who will become his wife. It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare.

"As your father, it is my duty to ensure that you are provided for and that our family thrives for generations to come. This marriage is a part of that responsibility," he explained, his tone gentle yet firm concluded with a reassuring nod, his eyes going to his elder son and soon daughter-in-law.

"When is the wedding?" the young samurai finally spoke up, his mind was messy, it was full of countless thoughts and plans of how this is going to work. He wanted his targets close, but not that close.

"Tomorrow," his father replied, his voice carrying a hint of sympathy for the shock his son was experiencing. "We knew that you won't come home if we said what is it for, so take it as a gift from Amaterasu."

Sae felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Tomorrow? It seemed impossible to prepare himself mentally for such a significant event in such a short time. Yet, as a samurai, he was trained to adapt to any situation. "I understand, Father," he managed to say, though his voice wavered slightly.

His father got up and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Sae nodded his head slowly. The family left the room, leaving him alone with his soon-to-be wife, he couldn't help but feel at unease — he never had any problems about his missions. This marriage wasn't just about securing alliances or ensuring the family's prosperity — it was God's plan, a forsaken and unfortunate planning with the most unexpected twist.

Turning to face Y/N as she waved her fan grinning so innocently at him, her eyes sparkled with adoration, a slight blush painted on her face like a freshly ripe peach from his mother's garden. Sae however, maintained his stoic demeanor, his eyes cold and distant, forcing a polite smile, though there was nothing to be smiling about.

"Don't get the wrong idea, Y/N. This marriage is just a formality, a transaction on paper. There's no need for us to pretend otherwise." he said, his voice letting her know that he isn't interested in this fiasco, or in her, for now. "So don't expect much." As he spoke, the weight of his words hung in the air, casting a shadow over any hope she might have held onto.

Y/N's heart sank when she saw how cold he had become, but she refused to show any sign of weakness. With a flick of her fan, she masked her disappointment behind a facade of indifference, determined to prove him wrong, even if it meant breaking through his icy exterior one layer at a time. She would not give up on the hope that someday, just maybe, he would see her not as a mere transaction or an old friend, but as something more.

江戸散歩 [EDO SANPO]

• The meaning behind the Tsurukawa [鶴川] surname is 鶴 - crane and 川 - river. In Japan, the crane, or tsuru, is a national treasure and is considered the bird of happiness. It is depicted in art, literature, and mythology as a symbol of honor, good fortune, loyalty, and longevity. So to be free as a bird, and as calm but rebellious as the water.

• In Edo period Japan, the color red on clothes signified youth and glamour as well mad, passionate love that is all consuming but fleeting so is chosen. And the green which represents new beginnings and good fortune. So they are chosen for Y/N's kimono.

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keeplcving · 2 months

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Hii I’ve been waiting for a blog I like to ask and I really adore your writing!!

I keep thinking about coriolanus x reader set before the reaping and the reader is being sent to the districts (maybe as a punishment from the plinths for “filling sejanus’ head with rebel ideas” or smth) but anything works!! 🩷

awe, thank you so much, sweet anon! i am honored :). i hope i understood what you wanted, and wrote it to your standards. enjoy, xoxo.

dark paradise.

(academy!coriolanus x fem!reader)

summary: she may be a rebel at heart, but only one man can tame her.

cw: discussion of arranged marriage, sweet!coryo (i love writing him like that i’m sorry!), soft sex, oral (m receiving), cuddling, pet names, talking bad about the plinths, lmk if i missed anything.

“Me? To District Two? Why? What did I do?” You interrogate the peacekeeper who had pulled you out class, mid lesson.

“Orders of a Mr. Strabo Plinth. Says here you ‘filled my son’s head of anti-Capitol propaganda’. Enough grounds to see you removed from the Capitol, I believe.”

You couldn’t believe it. You hadn’t told Sejanus anything he didn’t already believe, you merely agreed with him. The Hunger Games were awful, and cruel. You knew enough about the world before Panem, and that in the country that existed before Panem, cruel and unusual punishment was against the country’s rules. Why wouldn’t that be the case in Panem?

“What? No I didn’t! Please, believe me.” You begged, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. You couldn’t leave the Capitol, it was your home, and had been your family’s home for years. You couldn't move to the districts, you wouldn't survive.

Your family had more than enough money and influence, but not as much as the Plinths. At this moment, you regretted befriending Sejanus. Sure, he was a sweet boy, but now his father was using you as a scapegoat to explain his son's inability to conform to Capitol standards and beliefs. All for simply agreeing with one of Sej's opinions.

You thought, for a moment, that this was it. You would never see the Capitol, or anyone in it, ever again, for the crime of having an opinion. You were a top student at the academy, set to be in the running for the Plinth Prize. How could they just kick you out of your home? You felt faint, overwhelmed with emotions, unsure of what to do, or even how to react.

"What's going on?" A voice interrupts your thoughts, and you let out a sigh of relief in recognition of the voice. Coriolanus Snow. He could get you out of this, he could easily explain that Sejanus was the rebel, not you. His family had more power and influence than the Plinths did, as they weren't from the districts.

"Miss Y/L/N here is about to be transported to District Two. She's a rebel. She's been filling Sejanus Plinth's head with anti-Capitol ideals, which Strabo isn't very pleased with. His son was supposed to make the Capitol his home, not turn against it." The peacekeeper explained to Coriolanus, and Coriolanus looked like he was in utter disbelief.

"Y/N?" Coriolanus spat out, "A rebel? Unlikely. If anybody is filling anyone's head with anti-Capitol ideals, it's Sejanus. Not Y/N." He states to the peacekeeper, hoping that he will believe the heir of the mighty house of Snow over district scum. The Plinths would never be Capitol, not really.

"Is that so?" The peacekeeper responds, "How is Miss Y/L/N not a rebel? Is there anything tying her to the Capitol, other than her family? Has she agreed to be married into a family of status?"

You couldn't believe that simply agreeing to be married into a family of status could keep you in the Capitol. That really couldn't prove anything, right?

"Yes, she is set to be married to me, upon our graduation from the Academy." You almost gasped in shock, not thinking that Coriolanus would come to your defense, lying for you in order to keep you in the Capitol. You held the gasp in though, and simply nodded your head.

"I am in love with him, sir. I wouldn't dare leave the Capitol, or say anything negative about it, when I have a man like Coriolanus to continue to show me the good that lies in the Capitol." You explain, stepping back to stand side by side with Coriolanus. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, rubbing his fingers soothingly on your side.

"How could you insinuate that my future wife is anti-Capitol? That is simply preposterous." Snow spits out, rolling his eyes before continuing, "I would never marry a woman that was anti-Capitol. I wouldn't taint my future heir's blood with someone that stood against everything that I believe in. This is absurd."

Coriolanus made a very strong case for you, leaving very little room for the peacekeeper to argue. You knew you had to go along with his lie, and keep up the act, in order to save your place in Capitol society. You lean up, and press a light kiss to Coriolanus' cheek, smiling sweetly once you pull away.

"I see, I will relay this information to my superiors. In the mean time, Miss Y/L/N is to stay at your manor, Mister Snow. There will be a trial, you will be called to testify on Miss Y/L/N's character, and her personal ties to you. I am going to dismiss you both from classes for the rest of the day, and I will be by tomorrow to collect you both." The peacekeeper grunts, turning on his heel, leaving you and Coriolanus standing in the empty hallway.

"I cannot believe you would lie for me like that, Snow." You whisper to him, and he grins at you.

"Well, Y/N, I have always had an infatuation with you, as you know," You roll your eyes at him, knowing of the crush Snow harbored on you as children. "And I could not let that district scum Plinth take you away from me before I even had the opportunity to have you." He explains, and you blush in response to his words. You couldn't believe that he still, after all this time, was interested in you. You knew you were beautiful, sure, but not nearly as gorgeous as the other girls Coriolanus spent time with, like Clemensia, Livia, or Arachne.

"You... you want me?" You ask cautiously, still in shock of his confession.

"Yes, you foolish girl. I realize I have not made my true interest in you more pronounced in the past, but I was just thinking of bringing my proposal to your father. What I was telling the peacekeeper wasn't all lies, I want you to be my future wife." Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, not expecting a full on love confession from Coriolanus.

"Oh, Coryo." You whisper, looking directly into his eyes. You have always thought his eyes were one of his best features, and up close, you couldn't deny it. "I would love to be your wife." You smile at him sweetly, and you swear there is a blush on his cheeks, though you could never get him to admit to that.

"Really?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding. He then ducks his head, meeting your lips with a hesitant kiss. You press your lips back against his, hard, and he groans. You reach yours arms up, wrapping them lightly around his neck. You pull back for air, and press your forehead against his.

"I think we should go back to your apartment, so I can thank you. And show you that I am serious about wanting to become your wife." You tell him, and he groans again, thinking about all of the ways you could potentially thank him. You peck his lips once more, before he pulls away, gently guiding you to follow him.

As you both make the walk to the Snow's apartment, you talk about everything and anything, getting to know each other better. You both were serious, about wanting to marry each other, and if you were to marry, you should at least semi-court beforehand. And that involved a lot of getting to know each other: mind, body, and soul.

As he unlocked the door to the penthouse, you were slightly surprised to not see a fancy apartment. Rather, you saw a ramshackle place, that you could tell once held glory. You glanced at Coriolanus, who looked ashamed. You would never judge him, or his family's true financial situation, and you wanted to voice that to him. You didn't care that the Snows weren't as rich as they were before the war, all you cared about was Coriolanus. Besides, you could easily afford to pay for your future wedding, as well as help the Snow family out.

"Y/N..." Was all that Coriolanus was able to get out, before you started talking.

"Don't even bother, Coryo. I don't care that your family doesn't have as much money as it did before the war. I don't care at all about money. I know what I feel for you, and no amount of money that you have will change my feelings. Besides," You stop, worried that you may accidentally offend him with your offer, before continuing, "I could afford to pay for our wedding, and more, with all of my own money. You won't have to worry about a thing, darling. I could even help your family. I know that your cousin is a talented seamstress, and deserves more than what she has."

You see Coriolanus' jaw fall slack, before he cracks a smile you hadn't seen in years. It was beautiful, it was radiant, it was so Coryo, and you loved it.

"Really? You mean that, Y/N? You are not messing with me, are you?" He questions, worried that you did not mean a word you just told him, that you were simply toying with his heart.

"No, Coriolanus," You grab his hands in your small hands, yours quickly becoming engulfed by his large hands as he squeezes gently, "I am not messing with you. My father has a stupid amount of money, and I am his only child. I want to use the money I have for good. And helping your family is the good." You explain, wanting him to fully believe you. You would spend all of your allowance on him, if he wanted it. You had more than enough things that you knew he and his family merely wished for.

"Oh, darling. You are the sweetest woman in all of the Capitol, and you are all mine. Mine." He responds to your declaration, before leading you further into the apartment, and into his bedroom.

"All yours." You whisper, meeting his eyes. They were shining with unshed tears and love. You had never seen Coriolanus as a kind, loving man, as he was very guarded and reserved at the academy, only speaking when spoken to. However, you were so thankful that he trusted you enough to show that side of him, and it made your heart race.

He smiled at you once more, before speaking. "I remember you promising to thank me, and show me how you really feel about becoming mine, my darling." You knew that he wouldn't forget that you said that, and you were more than happy to show him how you cared for him.

You dropped to your knees in front of him, quickly unbuttoning his school uniform, and yanking the slacks down with the boxers he wore underneath. You gasped in shock at the size of his cock as it sprung up, slapping his stomach. He unbuttoned his top, quickly discarding in on the floor next to his bottoms, leaving him totally exposed for you, whilst you were still fully clothed. It felt powerful, him bare before you had everything on. He was surrendering himself to you, and you wanted to show your appreciation.

You peppered a few kisses to his thighs, before running your tongue up the entire length of his shaft. He was so long, so thick, you weren't entirely sure you would be able to fit him in your mouth. You had experience, sure, but you had never been with someone as large as Coriolanus.

He let out a low growl at the feeling of you tracing the vein that ran from bottom to top with your tongue, and you rewarded him by licking the slit of his cock, tasting his precome. Normally, the taste of a man's precome disgusted you, but his did not.

You then took the tip in your mouth gently, before hollowing your cheeks. You took him as far in your mouth as far as you could, feeling his cock bump into the back of your throat. You estimated he was about eight inches, with girth. You were one lucky woman, with a man that was far above average. You knew he would be able to pleasure you easily. But right now, all you were focused on was pleasuring him, thanking him for lying for you.

You bobbed your head up and down slowly, grabbing what you couldn't fit in your mouth with one of your hands, matching the bobs of your head with the twists of your wrist as you jerked the base of his dick. He was going crazy above you, letting out animalistic groans, hands fisted in your hair, gently tugging, as your worked your mouth over his cock.

You could tell he was close, by how loud his grunts got, and the way the hands tangled in your hair were pulling harder. You doubled down your efforts, moving your head up and down faster, making sure your hand was setting the same pace.

"Darling, I am so close. I am going to come down your throat." He warned you, panting. You didn't respond, continuing your efforts. You wanted him to come in your mouth, to truly thank him for being a kind man, at least a kind man to you. He came with a grunt, seed trickling in your throat, you swallowing it quickly.

Once he was done, you pulled off his cock, smiling sweetly up at him. He gently helped you onto your feet, making sure you were stable enough to stand after being on your knees.

"Thank you, my sweet." He told you earnestly, detangling the knots he had made in your hair with his gently with his fingers. You moaned at the sensation, and you could see his eyes turn dark at the sound you made.

He stopped running his fingers through your hair, instead setting his hands on your ass, pulling you to kiss him. The kiss was passionate, and you felt yourself beginning to dampen your panties. You pulled away from the embrace, panting heavily. You attempted to begin unbuttoning you uniform, but Coriolanus pushed your hands away.

"I want to undress you, darling. That's my job, from now on." He told you, removing both your top and bottoms, leaving you in your black, lacy bra and underwear. He groans at the sight of your breasts held up delicately in the bra, and hardens again instantly.

"May I?" He asks, his hands slipping to the clasp of your bra, waiting for your approval. When you nod, he unhooks it, gently pulling the straps down your arms, and tossing it somewhere you don't see.

Coriolanus lets out a grunt at the sight of your pretty breasts, bare for him. He kneads one experimentally, and you let out a noise of satisfaction. He smirks at your reaction, before stopping the ministration entirely. Instead, he sweeps you up, into his arms, carrying you over to his bed, gently settling you down in the center of it.

Clambering onto the bed next to you, he slips his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, meeting your eyes, searching for approval to remove them. When you nodded with a smile, he pulls them down your legs. Once they are fully removed, he spreads your thighs apart, revealing your glistening cunt to him.

He groans at the sight, and gently sweeps a finger through your folds, gathering your slick on the digit. He pops the digit into his mouth, making a noise of pleasure at the taste of you. That makes you gush a little more, pleased that Coriolanus likes the way you taste.

"Please, Coryo." You plead, "Take me. I'm yours. Please." You see him think for a moment, before climbing over top of you, muscular forearms holding him from crushing you with his weight.

"Oh darling, you are all mine. I can't wait to feel my tight little pussy clenching for me. Mine." He whispers hotly in your ear.

You grab his cock, pumping it a few times, then position the head at your entrance for him, and meet his eyes. He thrusts in, harder than you expected, immediately bumping into your cervix. You both let out noises of pleasure, overwhelmed with the feeling of one another. He begins thrusting rapidly, grunting at your slick coating his cock.

You were squeezing him like a vice, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by coming too quickly, before you could even meet your own end. He angled his hips, and slammed directly into the spot deep inside of you that had you seeing stars. You screamed, rapidly approaching your orgasm at the feeling of his dick stretching you out, slamming into your g-spot roughly.

Reaching a hand down your body, you rubbed at your clit roughly, and you feel your peak approaching. "Coryo!" You moan, "I'm so close. I need to come."

"I am close as well, my sweet. I promise, I will make you feel oh so good. Come for me" He smirks, continuing to pound into your tight heat.

"Oh! Coryo!" You scream, coming undone on his cock, your spend quickly forming a frothy circle around his dick as he continued driving into you, attempting to reach his own end.

"Please, come inside." You whimper out, and that was all he needed, spurting deep inside of you. You begin to feel faint from the overstimulation, but you fight it, and Coriolanus pulls out of you gently, the mix of your spend and his spilling out, onto your thighs and onto the bed sheets.

He climbed off of you, rolling you onto your side, before pulling you to his close, your back to his chest. You were both breathing heavily, and laid in silence for several minutes, until your breathing returned to normal.

"That was a perfect thank you, my future wife." Coriolanus whispers into your ear as you cuddle, basking in the after glow of your activities.

"I'm glad, my future husband. Thank you for everything you said today, Coryo. I mean it. I would probably be on the train right now, going to district two, if it wasn't for you, and your intelligent brain." You say, pressing back closer to him.

"It was no problem, my sweet. I knew I couldn't let that Plinth boy take you away from me, because of his own stupidity. That isn't your fault, and trust me when I say, the Plinth family will be dealt with." He tells you, eyes narrowing in anger.

"It's alright, Coryo." You attempt to soothe him, turning slightly to press a kiss to his sweaty chest, and he grunts back at you. "I'm still here, with you, my darling. There is nothing to deal with, I promise."

"He tried to take you from me. He knew I liked you, and lied to his father, to get rid of you. He thought by getting rid of you, he could get to me, without another in the way." Coriolanus tells you, and you gasp in shock. You didn't want to believe the words that were just spoken, but it wouldn't surprise you.

You knew Sejanus wanted more of Coriolanus' friendship than he had, and it didn't surprise you that he thought you were in the way of that. Sejanus was friends with both of you, or so you thought. He knew that his one best friend liked his other friend, and so he sought to destroy it. How truly awful.

"Oh, Coriolanus. I wish you had just told me that you liked me, rather than keep it a secret. Maybe this wouldn't have had to happen like this." You tell him, reaching a hand up to ruffle his curls. "I'm just glad you were there today, and defended me. I am no rebel, you know that." You giggled, continuing to run your fingers through his curls.

"You are a rebel, you are my rebel." He tells you, leaning into your touch. You blush at his words, before letting out another giggle.

You may not be the anti-Capitol rebel that the Plinths tried to pin you as, but you were a rebel in the way you loved Coriolanus Snow without a care in the world, money be damned. And that rebellious love that Coriolanus was able to tame was the only thing that mattered.

©keeplcving 2024. please let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests! :) i’d love to write more of what y’all would like to see!!

#coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x y/n

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

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White Knight Ithaqua who has feelings for a low-nobility reader (who does also like him a bit) 👀 she's the last living heir of the dying family line, and about to be married off by her desperate father to a cruel husband for the money the sustain their status. She cares nothing for status, and knows of both Ithaqua's fearsome reputation and feelings for her...so she asks him to kill her father, so she'll be free of that fate, and in exchange she'll happily be with him.

heheheheheheh

Rated Mature | Warning: none

Ithaqua with the purple blue lipstick save me

“Ithaqua.” You stand in front of him as sits on the chair in the room, his legs open as he relaxes— Content like a cat after being fed a treat. The wedding, the union between himself and you, is complete. Finally, he has you! The lady of his dreams, the only person alive who knows him as a boy who was once shy and gentle. You promised to marry the boy who lived in the woods with his mother, she was the maid you liked the most. Red hair she would let you braid as she would teach you how to read, her smile bright and you try to match it. She was a sweet woman who was like a mother to you while your father was being a fool. Your mother died not long after you were born, the rumors say your father had her killed for having an affair. An affair that was not true.

“Would you do anything for me?

Ithaqua, the fearsome White Knight, stares at you with eyes you know are to be full of a love that would scare anyone else. Without his helmet, you see the face, the change from the gentle to the sharp man who would cut down the mightiest of the White King’s enemies. His dark purple edging on blue-painted lips formed a Cheshire grin. He stands up and snatches you close to him, his hands on your waist as his forehead touches yours.

“Anything.”

You use one hand to guide him to touch your ass, your other hand beginning to open his uniform, and you angle your face to brush against his lips as you speak. “Will you kill for me?” Softly asking with your eyes locked with his.

Your father used to be of high status before his greed got the best of him. He plotted with others to overthrow the White King with the assistance of the Black Monarchy. He was able to worm his way out of an execution and keep some of his status. All he had to do was easily betray those who were trying to betray the kingdom. You hate him for using you as a way to remain in the good graces of the White King. The White Knight was gifted you, an offering to a monster expected to devour you.

“Within reason.” He moves in to kiss you but you pull back. A warning growl but his grin never fades, “Does murder get you off these days, (Name).”

“No, this is not a murder but a way to free your wife.” You tilt your head back as he attacks your neck and squeezes your ass, “My father. I want him to be cold on the ground by tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Then he laughs, “No honeymoon?” Licking the column of your throat before biting into the side marking you as his.

“If you kill him fast enough you can return to me with his blood on your hand and claim me.”

He moves back to look at your very serious face, his grin gone as he is surprised to hear the hatred in your voice, “You’ve changed.”

“Not willingly, I wish I was still the girl who would chase you to play with me.” You yearn for her, for the woman she has turned into these days. Cold and calculating, your loyalty is to the kingdom and now your husband. “Will you free me?”

“Free you? This will only lock the last shackle to me.”

“So be it. You still love me, I know you will not toss me to another.”

He hums before going back to marking your neck, “In silver and blood you are bound to me.” Silver for the ring and blood for the man who will die tonight.

#asks #idv #reader insert #ithaqua x you #ithaqua x reader #idv ithaqua #identity v ithaqua #idv x you #idv x reader #idv night watch #night watch x reader #night watch x you #identity v night watch #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v x you

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ystrike1 · 4 months

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Don't Look Back, Seisia! - By danryhan (8.5/10)

A poisonous love battle, featuring a ruthless Duke who acts kind and a merciful healer with a bad reputation. They are a loving and tender couple. Their honesty is the highest charm point in their relationship. The magical poison part of the story gets kind of pointlessly complicated, but it's good.

Seisia Lidyne is an adult woman who knows her worth. Not a crying child in need of saving. At least not at first. The forces working against her have way more influence than her. There's only so much she can do with no allies and knives in her back. Her father remarried. Her younger brother is an idiot sadist. Her father only cares about his male heir, and her stepmother only cares about her reputation.

It's a powder keg that explodes whenever Seisia Lidyne dares to step outside.

Her stepmother has been using her as a scapegoat.

Seisia Lidyne is an infamous hoe. Her poor brother was tormented by her, and her countless men. That's why he's such a nasty loser. It's all her fault. The rumors are both extravagant and ridiculous but Stepmother Lidyne puts YEARS of effort into the lies.

Seisia is left friendless with no marriage prospects.

She leaves the house.

Yep.

She also doesn't care about her father at all.

She walks out the door.

Time passes, and she finds a bloody man on the ground. Seisia has healing magic. Does this make her super special? No. It's pretty rare but healers have zero offensive capabilities. She never ever revealed her powers to anyone, because she knew her scummy father would use her gift to make money.

Dian is just another man who benefits from her services.

She settles down in a village. She uses her herbal knowledge and her magic to make a modest amount of money, for herself.

It's nobody else's business.

She quickly figures out he is noble. He's too educated. His clothes are too nice, and he was badly poisoned. His fingers were actually blue. Two plus two equals four. She helps him and sends him on his way.

Seisia Lidyne has no one. No one that can be trusted. No one that she likes. Her rare hair and eye color makes her a target. The local villagers eventually realize she's a runaway noblewoman, and they want to turn her in for money. Her awful family is looking for her because they need their scapegoat.

She doesn't flirt with Dian, who is secretly a Duke with poisonous mind control magic.

He goes after her.

They are opposites in funny ways. He sticks around the village to watch her, and he notices that she's actually kind. Even when she doesn't need to be. All of the villagers gossip about her sordid past. They talk about hurting her. Selling her back to her abusers. Dian hears them all, and he wonders why she doesn't want revenge.

Dian is frustrated. His reputation is perfect. Everyone thinks he's kind, because of his manipulative magic. On the inside he's your average ruthless Duke. He's a master of poison too so...two plus two equals four...

He kills the men who want to harm her with a burning cloud of poison ash.

He thinks he wouldn't mind dying if she killed him.

Dian is a strange kind of yandere. He's happy about it. He loves being in love. He resented his mother for most of his life, because she died in a stupid way.

His mother sacrificed herself for love, even though she had a six year old son that needed her. He didn't understand her.

Seisia is kidnapped by her family, and he doesn’t hesitate.

Now he does. His love for Seisia showed him the light. His mother could not give up on her first love, even after he betrayed her. That's normal and natural. He finally feels the same way about his own love.

It gives him closure, and he can finally let the past go.

Dian uses his status to save her and marry her. He is too powerful to refuse, and Seisia is happy about it. With no allies running from her father is a pipe dream, but she can trust Dian.

She also has no choice.

Dian listens to her woes. He accepts her past. Her flaws. Her fears. He promises her the world and he wants to give it to her.

Her brother has dark magic. That's why he gets so much special treatment. He tortured her with bugs. He helped spread the rumors about her sordid affairs.

He feels no remorse either.

Seisia is so happy to talk to someone she can trust.

The "real" Dian isn't hidden away. He shares his true thoughts and feelings with her too. He has enemies he needs to dispose of. They already tried to kill him. The gloves are off.

Seisia pledges to help her husband, like a good wife.

He takes her to an endless field of flowers, where four families compete for power. Even though she's a healer it's a struggle for her to get used to all the poison in the air.

She tries her best. He helps her, and together they rise to the top of the flower battle.

He gives her his blood, as proof of his love. His blood is the antidote. His mind control powers can no longer affect her. He has to trust her, and she has to feel the same way. When he says he can't live without her he really means it.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #Don't Look Back #Seisia!

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blingblong55 · 4 months

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Old money -John Price

Based on a request: hii!!! i love your fics sm! i was wondering if you could make one with price meeting and having dinner with the reader’s military-based, old money family?? like nate archibald family house typa shit where they have dinner at her family’s big manor 😭 ---- F!Reader, old money, wealthy!reader, established!relationship, fluff/romance?, boyfriend!Price, ----

A/N: Hope ya like it :)

John Price, a military man who was not afraid of most things, except this, driving to your parent's house, who lived in possibly the biggest home he has ever been in. He knew that your parents would ask all about his past and that he would be investigated since your entire family is in the military. Your father is a general, your mother is the head of inter-pol, siblings in the royal marines and your oldest brother is a SAS soldier and there was you, in the Royal Air Force.

When Price was introduced to you, he recognised the last name immediately. Everyone always treated you differently and as he parked in the mansion's driveway, he understood why you were treated so differently. "I know, I know that it's not a small or normal home but please just act like yourself." You say that this had become a problem with past partners. He nods, "Don't worry, love." His lips meet your forehead and as he gets out of the car to open your door, he talks to himself. "Impress, John...don't be stupid." He opens your door and takes your hand as you get out of the car.

Walking in he holds his breath, holding your hand and stiffens a little when he sees your dad. "You must be John Price?" Your dad and he shake hands. "R/N, go get ready for dinner, me and John will have a chat." As you return to your room, your mother and siblings are all grinning. "Mummy, don't start, please let's just act normal for once," your voice under control, trying to not show your excitement John was the first man you brought home who wasn't a part of the many family names your parents wanted you to wed. He was also the first man to want you for you, not the money, the recognition or the status, he loved you for your beauty, wit and charisma.

For John, you were the first girl in which he found himself reading more books, watching the news and caring more about how he dressed. To him, the way you presented yourself was elegant and your beauty could outshine anyone and there he would be, trying to fit in but never daring to outshine you. Diamonds couldn't be outshone, he would explain. Your father, walking him around the home, showing him family portraits, generations of wealth all in past paintings. The grounds of the home were all well kept by the staff, the same ones that greeted John.

For the first time, he understood that maybe the movies weren't all so wrong but he did notice a mistake all movies about wealthy families had. That was that no one bragged, your dad, a well-known man talked as if he was mates with John. Pass the formal introductions, your dad wanted to make John feel welcome. No need for titles, just modesty and honesty was all that was needed to be found. John of course felt he had to present himself as some man of high importance, after all your family was well off and had many connections around the country and world. "John, let me ask you something," your dad began. "My dearest daughter R/N is a noblewoman, she is kind, smart and holds herself to high standards, my question now is, do you understand her? Care for her beyond her beauty or wealth?"

"Of course I do, Sir."

"Please, let's leave the formalities for later, John," Your dad pauses and looks at the garden in front of him.

"I'm glad you see her beyond all that. And the reason I ask, is because she cares for you, matter of fact, her mother and I always wanted her to marry into a family of our choice however, what we noticed, is that she seems happier with you."

This caught John off guard, and a smile formed on his lips. Your dad continued, "She came home last week, told her mother and I about you and for the first time in forever, I saw her gush about someone. She never did this with other men her age and yet, I have reason to believe my little girl is in safe hands and you better believe I'll make sure you treat her properly."

"I will swear to it. And if I may add, your daughter is beautiful in many ways, she surprises me time and time again. I want to be good for your daughter, I want to be the best version of myself for her," he looks at your dad. "I hope I have your blessing to keep making your daughter shine like the diamond she is," He extends his hand. "Very well," your dad shaking his hand.

"Now, let's head inside, it's time for you to meet the rest of my family."

It was odd, people at base told him he would have to pretend to be important and yet, he felt more welcomed here than anywhere else. As he walks to the dining room, he finds himself looking at all the small details of the home, from the walls, floors and ceilings. How can someone as stunning as you care for a man like him? He won't ever know.

Your mother, in all her glamour, siblings greeting him with manners and you, with that star smile. Fuck are you all he ever dreamed of.

"Be yourself and impress," was all that played in John's mind. As all of you sat down, your mother and father began to ask questions. "So, what does a captain like yourself do?" Your mother began the round of questions. "Operations for the military, ma'am." He says carefully. And of course, your family knew all he ever did in his career with the military. "Do you play golf?" Your oldest sibling asks. John nods, "If you count one match as playing golf, then yes." His answer made you smile, at least he was being himself and not some man who wanted to sound like a stuck-up rich bastard.

As dinner went on, your family grew fond of him and they understood why you would fall for a man like him. He had all the qualities a man for you had and more. "We're hosting a dinner party, we hope you join us." Your mother made the official invite. John squeezes your hand under the table, you smile as if you had won a contest. "I'll be sure to attend, with my beautiful date of course," he kisses your cheek and for the first time since a child, you blush and look away. Your mother chuckles, "Oh to be young and in love."

Back in the car, as he opens the door for you, you turn to him. "Thank you."

"What for, love?"

"Being yourself and proving to me that you are worth it."

Oh did it make his heart flutter. "No need to thank me, all to be with you." he kisses your forehead and holds your hand to get in the car.

"Drive safe, kids," your dad says as he waves goodbye. "Will do, sir."

That night, John replayed the evening in his head. The poetry books, the stupid lessons he took, none worth the better conversations he had with you and your family.

As time passes, your family starts to grow fond of him. Siblings call him their brother-in-law, and parents call him son. And there were you, in that dress, overlooking the gardens as you stood on the balcony. "I love you," he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind. "I love you best," you say. Wine and laughter, Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine, Cashmere, cologne, and white sunshin. Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine. The kids were young and pretty.

Tags:

@liyanahelena @ghostslillady @cyfi5 @wrathofcats @tinygarbage @dumbbitchgalore @reese-is-right @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @frazie99 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @coralwitchdreamland @ikohniik

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helplesslypurple77 · 6 months

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~AU Week: Historical AU(Fyodor/Reader)~

Summary: But to be engaged to Fyodor. A small part of you was thrilled.But a much bigger and more practical part of you was worried.

Because he had always been a perceptive man. You were in danger of him very quickly figuring out your feelings and rejecting you, or even worse simply leaving you alone to your misery. You were sure to die a metaphorical widow.

Warnings: Smut, kind of mildly dubious consent??~

Notes: ok so uh this story is set in some ambiguous country in the regency era, so that kind of fashion. Please don't look too hard at the historical inaccuracies…

Also about the midly dubious consent in the warnings. It's kinda there?? The tiniest bit?? Dub con?? Not rly, the consent is muddy?? But reader is clearly really into it. Ok so there's a slightly dub con kiss, but no ones protesting at all

...

Lady Caroline was a total bitch. She stuck her button nose in the air and scoffed at all the other ladies at the tea party with the scorn of the only child of a new money family. You sighed, never losing your perfect poker smile.

“You see,” Lady Caroline continues, never one to measure her words. “My father had sent a letter to the Duke of Silverwall. He is sure to accept my proposal, as my family is known for our exceptional breeding.” She leans close, her obnoxious bright fan fluttering. “We have sired two former queens.”

She says the words conspiratorially as if they're a secret. As if she doesn't say it every chance she gets. You roll your eyes with a sigh. It's a bright sunny day, and several ladies are sitting around a small table filled with delicate desserts and colorful drinks. Autom has fully arrived, and the trees on Lady Cecilia’s estate are full to bursting with dry leaves. Red, oranges, and even some greens fall gently to the ground, covering the green grass with a crunchy carpet of fall colors. It's sunny, but a slight breeze floats through the air, the temperature pleasant.

The group of ladies are dressed finely, in browns and beiges and even some bright oranges and reds. Laughter and the clatter of teacups fill the air around your table. You take a dainty bite of a small fruit pie and savor the delicious flavors on your tongue. The desserts are the only reason you come to these. And the gossip. You do love gossip.

Your brown gloved hand reaches for another tart, and Lady Caroline looks at it distastefully.

“You’re so lucky Lady Name, I could never eat that much.” She says, her beady eyes shooting you a fake smile. She simpers, taking a sip of her tea. You sigh. Silence falls again.

Lady Caroline is an unpleasant woman, jealous and spiteful and sure of her own worth in life. And not to say anything unkind, but she’s a bitch. She puts other people down, throws her family’s newfound status around, and wears yellow. You hate the color yellow. It's unpleasant and far too cheery for such a gloomy woman.

Lady Cecilia, seated to your right, speaks up. “Well ladies, are you excited for the autumn ball?” Exited chattering fills the air at the change of topic. You shoot her a small smile. Lady Cecillia is a kind woman, with long blond hair pinned up into a fashionable updo, and pretty gold charms sprinkled throughout. Her dress is a gorgeous burgundy that compliments her blond hair and the golden accessories. Her father is a Marquess, so higher than Lady Caroline's father, a mere earl. You don't believe in status until Lady Caroline starts throwing her status around like it's something impressive. Then you are happy to flex your own high status.

Your father is the Duke of Somerset, standing opposite Lady Caroline's ill-fated crush the Duke of Silverwall. One of the only two Dukes in the country too. Lady Caroline likes to forget that in favor of her father, a mere earl. She’s annoying.

“Lady Name, you are to attend with your brothers right?” Lady Irina says, a breeze dancing in the cute pin curls that hang around her heart-shaped face. She’s wearing a lovely shade of deep brown, which highlights the brown pigments in her eyes. Apples and leaves and other things are embroidered throughout, catching the light in brilliant gold threads. You smile.

“Yes, that is the plan. I have set a tailor to come tomorrow.” You say. “My brothers are all without partners this year. I cannot imagine why.”

Lady Cecilia titters, hiding a blush behind a gloved hand. Lady Irina smiles. Lady Caroline simpers quietly behind her teacup.

“Yes, your brothers.” Lady Caroline starts. She’s dressed in a gray-blue, pretty silver accessories scattered throughout her hair and around her neck. The dress is the only pleasant thing about her. She continues, flicking that gray fan back and forth. “I hear they are still looking for finances, is that true?” She finishes, sounding less curious and more excited to say something snide and unpleasant. Her hair is done in an undo as well, but she refused to use the popular pin curls. You were sure she thought she was too good for them.

“Yes, that is correct.” You say, taking another lovely pie from the tray. “Although they have received several offers. Father says he is entering talks for me as well.”

The ladies at the table perk up, and Lady Caroline gets that expression on her face where she hones in on something, ready to pounce.

“Oh, how exciting!” Lady Cecilia says, looking sweetly, genuinely excited for you. Lady Irina nods, taking a bite of a small French pastry.

“Yes, I still remember when my fiance was chosen.” She says, getting that look on her face. Everyone knows the story of Lady Irina and her fiance. How they hated each other at first but fell madly in love soon after. You can't help the smile that carves its way across your face. Although you've heard it a thousand times, you still appreciate that Lady Irina has found someone she loves.

Lady Irina shakes out of her daze, taking another bite of her pastry. “These pastries are simply wonderful Lady Cecilia! I must have the recipe.”

“Oh yes!” You agree. Lady Cecilia nods. “Oh course, I'll send it home with you.” The three of you trade smiles. Lady Caroline coughs.

“So Lady Name, tell me. Who are you to be engaged to? It must be a lovely viscount I'm sure.” She says, her voice dripping with insincerity. You roll your eyes so far back into your head that you fear for a moment that they might simply get stuck there. Lady Irina joins your eye roll, but Lady Cecilia frowns. She opens her mouth, ready to speak but you raise a hand as you see your coachmen coming towards you.

Your coachman hands you a letter, the envelope a plain cream. The seal is familiar, however, your family's crest. You smile.

“Oh, it's from my father.” The ladies around you look up curiously, Lady Caroline grinning widely. She looks thrilled, like a vulture who just landed on a large dead carcass and is about to dig in.

“It must be news of the engagement. It seems they have completed talks already.” You say, using a butter knife to slice open the envelope. The paper inside is heavy, and your father's familiar handwriting greets your eyes as you skim. It only takes a few minutes to find the words you knew were coming, and while you personally aren't very thrilled with the outcome, you're still going to use it to your advantage. You place the letter back into the envelope, slipping it into your small purse. The three ladies look on curiously.

“Didn't go well huh?” Lady Caroline simpers. Her fake kindness makes you wince. You can barely hold in your anticipation as you start, schooling your face into a small smile.

“They went quite well, the engagement will be announced at the autumn ball in a few days.” You say, shooting the other ladies at the table sincere smiles. Lady Caroline's face falls slightly, but she recovers startlingly fast. “Well, I'm sure he’s a lovely viscount. Who is he?” She says, smiling insincerely. You bite back a grin.

“Oh, I'm not supposed to tell yet.” You say, pretending to be worried. Lady Irina leans forward curiously.

“Oh Lady Name please. We’re starved for gossip.” She says. Lady Cecillia nods excitedly. You give a decisive little nod.

“Oh fine then. You ladies aren't allowed to spread this around all right?” You say, just as a precaution at this point. They all nod. You do trust Lady Cecilia and Lady Irina, but you know Lady Caroline will blab the moment she gets the name out of your mouth. You would be stupid to unknowingly tell her information. But you're sure someone will find out anyway, you don't really have anything to lose.

You lean forward. “All right. Well im engaged to—”

“Name, it's time to leave.” your fathers familiar voice interrupts your words, and the ladies sink back in defeat. You stand, taking the small package of recipes Lady Cecilia hands you gratefully.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait a couple of days then.” You say with a wink.

⚔⚔⚔

Your opinion of your fiance, the Duke of Silverwall could be better. Duke of Silverwall Fyodor Dostoeyvsky was, on the outside, a perfect fiance. He had succeeded his father at the early age of twenty, and had been running his entire estate for two years now. He was smart, handsome, and very, very wealthy.

You’ve known the man for ages, as your fathers were good friends and you had core memories of him pulling your hair and pretending it was your younger brother Philip. He almost got away with it but your other brother Ivan tattled on him. He had been a smart boy, he was always the one who came up with the mischief the four of you got into. He was also sneaky, always subtly shifting the blame to Ivan or Phillip when you guys got caught.

To his credit, he had never shifted the blame to you, but you were sure that one day you would have to take the fall. And while you weren't furious that he was your fiance(there were much worse options), you weren't thrilled either. Because you knew he would never love you.

You have loved him since a young age, an innocent crush that had developed into a deep love that you could never quite shake. But you knew that he simply saw you as a childhood playmate. He saw you almost as he saw your brothers, friends to go riding with, or to engage in philosophical discussions, but never as a woman.

You still remembered when he had accidentally seen you changing a couple years ago. You had hoped for a blush or something but he had simply left, closing his eyes the entire time. Your heart had broken, and you had simply accepted that he would never see you that way.

But to be engaged. A small part of you was thrilled. For you had dreaded seeing him with another woman for years now. You had awoken in a cold sweat from nightmares involving them dancing, kissing, or worse.

But a much bigger and more practical part of you was worried. Because he had always been a perceptive man. You were in danger of him very quickly figuring out your feelings and rejecting you, or even worse simply leaving you alone to your misery. You were sure to die a metaphorical widow.

You did your best to convince your father, of course not mentioning any more embarrassing facts, but he was steadfast. There was simply no convincing him. So, you put your other plan into action. Convincing Fyodor.

⚔⚔⚔

“Convince your father to dissolve the engagement.” You say. Fyodor raises an eyebrow in your direction as he escorts you around an especially muddy patch on the path. You're walking in the park, down by the duck pond that's always surrounded by wildflowers and away from prying eyes. There are no wildflowers this season, the grass is covered in leaves of different colors. They crunch under your feet as the two of you speak under your breath.

“Well hello to you to, Name.” Fyodor says, chuckling in your direction. “Yes, I'm in exceptional health, thank you for asking.”

You roll your eyes, pinching his arm beneath his white coat. You're wearing white today as well, a pretty white chiffon that hovers just far enough above the ground to avoid staining. A white fur ruff covers your shoulders. It's cloudy out today, the temperature nippy as the days before the Autumn ball shrink. The autumn ball is the day it's all irreversible. The day society becomes privy to the engagement between the two dukedoms. The day your fate is sealed.

“Can you please convince your father to dissolve the engagement, Fyodor?” You ask, your voice a whisper. Although the surroundings appear to be empty, you never know who’s servant is hiding in the bushes, on the hunt for gossip.

Fyodor heaves out a little sigh, as the two of you turn the corner of the pond. “Why Name?” He chuckles a little. “Is it that unfortunate a fate to be my duchess?”

It's not, in fact it's a dream. But not in this way. You dodge the question. “Well, you don't want to be engaged to me right?” You chuckle, pulling him to a stop as you stare out across the pond. A few ducks alight on its surface, ripples flying across the formerly pristine surface of the lake.

Fyodor chuckles, notably not answering your question. “But in all seriousness Name. Our fathers are quite set on this engagement, and the unification of the two families under the crown will be huge news.” He says. “Your brothers are now free to marry below their status and our substantial family resources are now pooled under one estate.”

You frown, disliking how correct he sounds. “I know.” You say, as the two of you leave the duck pond behind. “Fine, I guess my fate is sealed then. Oh yes,” You continue, an afterthought occurring. “Come over tomorrow, the tailor's coming. Father says we need to match.”

Fyodor gives his assent. And your fate sealed, you clutch his arm tighter and finish the rest of your walk in companionable conversation. You always have gotten along so well.

⚔⚔⚔

“Congratulations my lady.” Your head Maid Olga says, twisting your hair into a complicated style with her sure hands. Olga is a kindly older woman who has been your maid ever since you were a baby. She was your mothers maid before you. You smile at her in the mirror, applying light makeup to your face and cheeks.

“Thank you, Olga.” You say, lightly swiping some rough on your cheeks. Your maid nods at your dress in the corner. It's a brilliant white, silver and lavender thread embroidered the length. Your family's crest, along with birds and fruits and other things. A silver tiara set with amethysts sits to your left, and Olga braids golden threads into your hair as well. You put on your silver and amethyst matching earrings as your maid speaks again.

“You’ll be able to buy a wealth of dresses, mistress.” She says, winking at you. You giggle with excitement. “I know, that's the best part.”

“And of course Mistress.” Olga leans forward, whispering the next part into your ear. “Finally get to experience the pleasures of married life.” She winks at you through the mirror, and you blush, giggling.

As much as you wish you could, you're sure he won't touch you. You had learned of those types of pleasures from the forbidden section of your parents library. You had been back there playing hooky from your math teacher, when you had stumbled on the hidden erotica section of your family's plentiful library. You hated to admit it, but you had indeed had fantasies about your fiance. Dirty fantasies that warmed your body and made a strange feeling build in your stomach.

You were no longer a virgin. It was not such a big deal anymore, and you had lost your virginity at seventeen to the handsome butler your parents had employed for a while. And while you came with a cry you had imagined Fyodor, imagining clutching his shoulders and screaming his name to the heavens for mercy. But you knew it never was to be. You just resigned yourself to being an old maid, alone and sexless for all eternity. You sigh, and hold your gold mesh shawl close to your shoulders, heading downstairs.

You hate how handsome Fyodor looks. His long hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, strands falling around his face in a flattering way. The white suit compliments his dark hair and pale skin, the lavender and silver accents glowing under the light. He’s wearing a circlet, matching one to your large tiara.

The coach ride is loud. Your entire family is sitting on one side, and Fyodor’s mother and father and little brother sit on the other. You're sitting next to your fiance, smashed against the wall of the carriage and his warm body and absolutely combusting. Every so often he whispers in your ear, the words hardly mattering. All you can feel is his hot breath on your neck, tickling your ear. You shiver each time and are far too excited as he helps you exit the carriage.

You're practically vibrating with excitement as you and Fyodor stand behind the grand entrance. You're late, on purpose. For today is the announcement that seals your fate, but also the day you get to metaphorically punch Lady Catherine directly in the face. And because your fate is already sealed, you're looking forward to the pleasure Lady Catherine's shocked face will bring you.

The grand doors open with a slam, and the chattering in the ballroom below ceases as the two men by the door announce your arrival.

“Duke of Silverwall, and his Fiance, the Her Grace of the Somerset Dutchy.” The men shout, their voice bellowing out over the hall as you stand there, face smiling, back tall and proud.

You start down the long staircase, your train trailing behind you, your hand on Fyodor’s steady white-clothed hand. The mix of faces below you is just as satisfied as you had hoped. Shock, some faces scream it. Others seem to say ‘i knew it’ while you receive the jealous stares of some prettily dressed ladies. Your white gown stands out among the sea of reds and browns, and the telling matching suit your fiance is wearing is also a dead giveaway. It takes a minute or two to get to the floor of the ballroom, and by then the rest of the people have turned away, and the music has resumed. Everyone still eyes you discreetly, however, and you know they're waiting to ambush you with questions and interrogations. You can't erase the grin from your face.

“You look very happy indeed my dear,” Fyodor whispers to you, as he leads you onto the dance floor. It's a waltz, a slow dainty one that you know by heart.

“Did you see the look on Lady Cathrine’s face?” You whisper, your feet stepping the familiar pattern of the waltz you know by heart. You learned this dance with him, two teenagers being yelled at by your scary dance instructors, your first true dance as fiance’s should be this one. I'ts quite fitting after all, although your sure he's forgotten those dance classes. You try not to read into it at all.

Fyodor chuckles, leading you into a spin. The white of your gown spins around you, a cloud of spinning white and brilliant silver. You know you look stunning, a lily in your pale white among the autumn roses. The air of the ball is starting to affect you. The bright lights and the stares, jealousy and admiration alike, fill your heart, making you more tipsy, more risky than the fine wines ever could. You can feel his eyes on you, those dark, brilliant eyes. Intoxicating and luring you into their depths. You feel risky, and just the slightest bit horny. His hands are on you, around your waist, his gloved other clutching your own. Perhaps that’s why your lips are loose.

“I was so thrilled when I heard about her little crush on you.” You say, hands winding around his neck. You're closer now, closer than proper. You don't feel the stares around you. “She’s a truly unpleasant woman you know.”

Fyodor smiles, humoring you. “I have heard you say so only a thousand times my dear.” The nickname makes you dizzy with love, cheeks delightfully flustered. You pull away, bowing as the waltz ends and you come down from your strange high.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” You start. You can see Lady Cecilia and Lady Irina waving you over frantically out of the corner of your eye. “I have some catching up to do.” and then, in a moment of boldness you stand on your tiptoes, pressing a short kiss to his cheek and whirling away. You will not stand beside him long enough for him to bring it up.

⚔⚔⚔

It was a long night. When you weren't being interrogated by Cecillia and Irina you were being passive-aggressively insulted by jealous mothers, or congratulated by families, or taking a toast from the pleased queen or avoiding dance requests from other men.

The only men you dance with are your brothers, your fiance, and your very close friend, the Viscount Perry, who everyone knows is your good friend.

You barely speak in the carriage, leaning against the window tiredly but you're wide awake as Fyodor leads you inside his castle. You forgot. Tonight was the night the two of you moved in together. You calm your face as you walk through the familiar halls, heels clicking on the marble floors. The pretty arched ceilings of the main entrance halls, the gorgeous artwork and stained glass in the main hallway, it's all very familiar scenery you know from your childhood. You would run these halls with the boys, until you were older and didn't want to dirty your dresses. You had always been a so-called ‘girly-girl’.

Your fiance has been strangely silent, and it's not until you're sitting at your new vanity, carefully stowing your earrings and tiara that he speaks.

“Who was that man you danced with?” He says, his face turned away from you as he hangs his coat. You start undoing Olga’s complicated hairstyle as you speak.

“You mean Viscount Perry? Oh he’s a good friend.” You say, scratching your scalp as your hair tumbles down around your bare shoulders. You're clothed only in your shift, and you would be flustered but you know Fyodor doesn't see you as a woman at all. You hate how it hurts you, that fact.

“So he was the reason you were so…” He pauses, a certain quality in his voice when he finishes his sentence. “…Hesitant to marry me.” The end of his sentence is nothing like you were expecting. He almost sounds, well, jealous.

All your wasted thoughts, your sureness that he could never like you like that, all of it is breaking apart, much akin to a shattered mirror. Suddenly you can remember stuff, stuff you had missed. The fact that he had never thrown you under the bus like your brothers, his constant pestering when you were younger. And even his red ears as he exited that room, the room you were changing in. and even just the other day, as he masterfully dodged the proposition you had thrown at him, the demand you had said. ‘Ask your father to dissolve the engagement’. You're practically vibrating with joy as the revelations pour over you. He likes you, just like you like him.

Your mind is running a mile a minute, but Fyodor, blind in his jealousy, takes your silence as an acceptance. And as you turn, you find him standing next to you, gripping your arm tightly.

“Is that why? You love that man? You wish to marry him instead of me?” His usually immaculate poker face is gone. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth curved into a sneer, the anger and jealousy carved clear across his face. You find it dangerously attractive. Your dazed silence is again, taken as an affirmative and before you can actually get out an emphatic no, his grip slides from your wrist, and then he’s kissing you.

It's a brutal kiss, the possessive bruising of lips that ruins you inside and out, driving you mad with arousal and a strange kind of happiness. You melt into his frame, and his big hands grip your lightly clothed hips, the heat of them sinking into your skin. It heats your insides, that familiar cocktail of heat that is arousal. You love it.

“Fyodor.” You try, panting around searching kisses. “Fyodor—”. His hands get rougher, searching for purchase on your hips, hands gripping and tugging naughtily. You moan into his mouth as he sucks your tongue, naughty slurping sounds filling the walls of your chamber. He kisses to dominate, and you easily surrender control with a moan, your poor cunt clenching under your silk chemise. He channels his anger and possessiveness into the kiss, as if aiming to suck your soul and love out through your mouth so that Viscount Perry can never have them.

“Fyodor.” you say, your voice a moan as he noses at your neck, sucking possessive hickeys into it, trailing down to the low neck of your chemise. You whimper and he chuckles.

“That's right, say my name.” Fyodor says, a hint of his accent coming thickening his words. The accent he had possessed for many years had faded four or five years ago, but never quite faded away completely, always lining his words. It sometimes became thicker when he was angry. It came back in times like these too. You whimper, gripping his dark hair in your hand, fingers weaving into the locks, tugging it gently. He chuckles against your collarbones, getting dangerously close to the neckline of your chemise, and the wealth beneath it.

“Tell me name, did that Viscount Perry ever see you like this, undone and moaning?” Fyodor says, breath ghosting across your collarbones. You shiver, moaning out a response.

“No, oh god, of course not.” Your voice is a whimper, underlines of tight sexual tension lining all the words. He chuckles proudly against your chest, mouthing at your nipples over your chemise, leaving a wet spot behind him.

“He never gets to see you like this.” He sounds so proud, so vindictive, so attractive. “You're my wife, never his. Mine.” The possessiveness should not turn you on, but it does, and you rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. You want him, more than you think you’ve ever desired anyone, let alone him.

“Fyodor,” You speak his name as a whisper, a prayer to your god, begging to feel him inside you, running you with his possessive corruption. “Oh god Fyodor, I need you so bad.”

Your hands tear at the loose fabric of his shirt, yanking it over his head and discarding it somewhere, anywhere, you don't care. His skin is pale, thin with just a bit of muscle tone, and you mouth at his collarbones. Fyodor hair has been knocked from its neat ponytail, and it falls around his face, a sexy mess. His pale skin bruises easily and everywhere you kiss you leave a trail of red behind. You love the marks you leave upon him. He grips the silk of your chemise, yanking at the delicate fabric until it rips, falling into pieces around you. You grip his shoulders with a groan as he hoists you up, laying you on the bed. Your feet hang off the edge, your ass in the air, your toes just brushing the ground.

You feel his hand on your ass, smoothing over the cheeks until they find their way between your legs.

“You're so wet.” Fyodor says. His voice is a tease, a taunt. And yet as his fingers spread your pussy lips and play with your clit, you can hear the pride in his voice. You grip the silk sheets in a death grip, your mouth opening in a moan, drool collecting on the sheets. Fyodor chuckles, his voice rough his arousal as he slips a finger fully inside you.

“We were always destined to be engaged, you know.” He purrs, his accent deep and thick and deliciously sexy. You love his accent, his voice, the way he twists his words, taunting you, praising you, rejoicing you. He continues with his words, scissoring his fingers inside of you as you moan into the silk sheets. “I knew you loved me, and I loved you too my darling. I thought I could be complacent, I could await the days when we would be married. And yet, you were stolen from me.”

The anger in his words, combined with the thick fingers scissoring your hole open, drive you nearly insane. But you're still able to process the words. He knew you loved him, and he loved you in return. You were destined, predetermined by fate. Your heart clenches with joy, even as the walls of your pussy clenched around his fingers. He chuckles, a light slap hitting your ass.

“A mere viscount has stolen your affection.” Fyodor’s words are low, angry, possessive. He accompanies it with a slap, a harsher one on your pussy. You whine as he removes his fingers.

“Oh god Fyodor, want you. Fuck me!” The profanities are not befitting of a lady, but you could care less. The man behind you, the man you have loved for years and years, has informed you he loves you back, and he is reducing you to aroused tears on the mattress you will sleep on for the rest of your life together. You want him, want his hot cock ruining you, draining away the rest of your sanity.

“You beg for me.” Fyodor says, the statement full of pride and arousal, and thick with that accent. “You beg for me over this viscount. And I shall obey your every command, my wife.” The sentence is whispered, almost reverent, and full of so much awe and yet equally measured with arousal that you nearly lose it right there. You're a mess, panting and quivering on the mattress and as his hot cock penetrates your insides you cum with a cry on the mattress.

Your walls clench, your hands gripping the silk until it crumples, your cries muffled in the silk of the sheets. Fyodor shelves himself inside you in one fluid stroke, his cock bullying your walls apart with equal parts pain and pleasure. You're soaking wet, your arousal dripping out of your pussy and soaking a ring on your thighs, but Fyodor is big, biggest you’ve ever taken by far, and tick to.

It takes a while for the orgasm to subside, but Fyodor gives you no rest, fucking your through the overstimulation reletlessly as you moan his name helplessly, hands still tangled in the sheets.

“You're such a pretty slut for me.” Fyodor coos the praises leaking into your ears as the pleasure returns, as you move back and forth on the mattress, your toes just brushing the ground. He leans over your prone back, balls slapping your ass with each hard thrust inside of you. The words are degrading, the word ‘slut’ not befitting of a lady, but you love it. You love the way he says it, the possessive nature of the words, ‘for me’. That's right, you're his slut, his slut forever. His wife.

You can feel another orgasm welling up, and you cry it into the spit-soaked sheets beneath you. Fyodor returns the cry with the same words, the promise that you’ll come together. And as you reach your peak, as you tumble over the cliff with your soon to be husband right behind you, you let the words slip past your kiss-swollen lips.

“Oh, I love you, Fyodor.” You moan, as you fall over the edge. His hips stutter, his cock filling you up one more time as he hears the words, the words he was longing to hear so desperately. And he returns them, whispered in your ear as if they are forbidden.

“I love you, my darling,” Fyodor says, flipping you over and shoving his cock right back into your hole, the squelching sounds of his cum and your arousal mixing as he fucks it deeper inside you.

...

Endnotes:

whenever i write au’s the characters tend to run away so sorry if this is ooc. Also man, Fyodor and Ranpo are so annoying to write because their a little like all knowing gods…so they always end up a little more dumb in my fics, or maybe dumb to emotions

Dazai’s a little easier because he actively acts like a dumbass all the time

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky bsd #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #helplesslypurple77

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astvrook · 6 months

Text

2002 | park sunghoon.

genre/au: yandere x reader.

When the Prince of the City also becomes the villain, there is no one and nothing that can protect his subjects from his ruthless reign, even under the deepest darkness.

Sunghoon, the minister's son, always carried the intoxicating scent of Nina Ricci lotion, for which his mother was a loyal fan, and the infectious, carefree, uninhibited smile of a baby. But something about him is unbalanced, so much that the temperature in a room drops, and not just because it is no longer winter, when he enters.

He's a masked angel whose light fades as the demon he harbors appears, because Sunghoon's solely responsible for every crime that has been perpetrated here.

You can imagine Sunghoon playing in the depths of every person's mind, as each time he cries, he apologizes to his parents and promises them that he will not make the mistakes he "regrets" again. His parents know, of course, that he will do it again, but they forgive him every time, for they raised their son to achieve excellence and surpass everyone in this town.

Anyways.

In the world of the moneyed, everything can be corrupt, and Sunghoon was not about to stop.

You, fortunately, were all but invisible. Not in a physical sense, but for the Park family, your economic status was relevant, as it allowed you to be hidden from their eyes.

Until the night of Halloween, when it all went south.

At this moment.

In your boyfriend's room, someone with an intense stare and an unrelenting temper takes over with his flawless aesthetic posture. The explicit image sends shivers down your spine.

He has a traditional Day of the Dead make-up, using a combination of monochrome to create a unique calavera, and mixed with elements such as flames, bloodied roses and scar marks for a truly eye-catching look. But there are no eyes.

Which dark impulse was coursing through Jihyun's flawed brain to molest Park Sunghoon like that?

He wasn't going to stop now.

"¡Please let me go!"

It's too late for you, and you can't do anything to stop what's about to happen, so you just huddle in the corner of the room and cover your ears.

Jihyun's head tilts to the side and the blood drips onto the floor as he emits moans and sobs. Fear and pain makes the whites of her eyes show, and the cries tears at your ribs.

But despite that, you still find him pathetic... to have faced the demon himself without demonstrating even the slightest skill in wielding such a weapon or understanding how to defend himself.

Fool. Fool. Fool.

Sunghoon's smile is all the more shocking when you notice that he seems unconcerned about the suffering of others. He appears to thrive simply on the pain of others.

Oh dear me.

It's only a matter of minutes before Sunghoon puts your boyfriend's windpipe beneath his foot and snaps his life away.

For an instant, you're captivated by just observing him.

And at that moment, the world freezes and everything around you stands still as you meet Sunghoon's piercing gaze.

"Having fun watching?"

Park Sunghoon picks up the baseball bat and brings the head to his mouth, feasting slowly on the brilliant red fluid as the blood collects on his tongue and slides between his teeth.

"It really annoys me when people spy on me, little one." Later, Sunghoon thrusts the bat harder against your boyfriend's ribs, hearing an ominous crack.

Releasing it, he falls to the ground and recoils, feasting your eyes on his close approach to you.

It's a terrifying scene.

"It's something that drives me absolutely insane."

He's entertained because of something.

You.

You're completely unclothed, save for the lingerie you're wearing, and Sunghoon's balls ache at the sight of you.

"I'm sorry, I did not... mean to see. Just leave right now".

You are experiencing shortness of breath, and panic causes abnormal dysregulation in your system. Not only that, but you had to run for your life.

Right now.

You are shaking and trying to escape when, with no warning, he seizes you and pushes you hard against the wall. You can sense his intimidating presence as he snarls in your ear: "You shouldn't run away, there is no crime scene to justify your escape. At least not yet."

"Please..."

"Shut the fuck up". Sunghoon shoots you a malicious look, and licks the tears running down your cheeks, as he senses the sensitive play of sensations on your skin, which oscillates between the warmth and the cold that his touch provokes.

Sweet.

Neither can look away, for this night... you're his favorite mischief.

Pretty and his.

Come on... Why settle for a mere piece of agonising flesh, when you could become the possession of the castigator?

He savours the metallic aftertaste of the blood on his teeth with his tongue, as an expression of horror settles on your face.

"You can't place a lamb in the path of a wolf and expect it to go hungry, right?"

And Sunghoon's famished to death tonight.

ENHYPEN MASTERLIST.

#enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #enhypen imagine #sunghoon yandere #yandere enhypen #yandere fanfiction #sunghoon fanfic #yandere #yandere enha #enhypen oneshot #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #Spotify

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crawl-out-through-the-fallout4 · 5 months

Note

@i-am-a-baron

Zemo and Piper had been chosen for a trip back to the world Bucky and his friends are all from this time, Loki had claimed it was for supplies but when he saw the memorial statue Zemo was certain it was really just to piss him off. He stares up at the statue for a long moment before addressing Piper. "Welcome to Sokovia... The last small corner of my home... That lake there used to be our capital city..." He gestures to the large fresh water lake just a short walk away from the well maintained statue of his family. "I'll likely be arrested before the day is out once I'm spotted on any cameras but I can provide you with the money for the supplies and a safehouse to stay in while you shop..." He brushes some fallen leaves off the statue base before finally turning to look at her

Piper is unusually quiet. Her eyes absolutely huge. After a moment she pulls some grass from the ground where they just landed.

“Sorry… it’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much green in my entire life… it smells so nice here.” She brings the grass up to her nose inhaling deeply.

“The sky is so blue is it even real?” She asks getting up off the ground.

“Sorry… sorry! you said something right?” She asks before noticing the memorial.

“Oh shit…” she says quietly before walking over and taking his hand. “You okay?”

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strrwbrrryjam · 1 month

Text

its funny that i write a post about respecting the female characters of rdr2 then i get recommended a post talking about getting a 'bad feeling' about mary taking advantage of arthur, the exact thing i was talking about

dude she asks you because it's a VIDEOGAME and you're the PROTAGONIST and she's an important character of the PROTAGONISTS PAST that gives him DEPTH - who else is she going to ask, uncle? she's a part of ARTHURS past

and then you're talking about her having some moral high ground when she does? i love arthur so much, but even i can't deny that between the two of them he has no moral high ground, he's an outlaw, a murderer who regularly steals from and beats and kills innocent people, while mary is a society woman

she isn't taking advantage of arthur at all, she comes to arthur for a variety of reasons, one of them being she's a widowed woman with a gambling drunk of a father, a dead mother, a dead husband and her younger brother leaving to join a cult, living in 1899 where women had limited rights and opportunities, especially in matters of finance and property ownership, her options for independence and support were severely contained and another because arthur is actually capable enough to save her brother from a dangerous cult that is planning to kill themselves, to wrangle up her drunk and likely abusive father, to rescue her mothers broach from a moving carriage.

and again, it bears repeating, that this is a videogame and her missions are OPTIONAL

of course, she's going to get mad when you tell her no because you are not only letting her dead mother's broach be sold but also signing her brother's DEATH WARRANT

she is incredibly grateful each time, thanking him profusely for saving her younger brother, she clearly still misses him, still loves him and still very much longs for a relationship with him despite their troubled past and arthur's outlaw status. her saying arthur will never change is more of a way to remind herself that their relationship would not work out, because arthur is still incredibly loyal to the gang that he prioritised over her during their relationship. even when mary asks, no, practically begs for arthur to run away with her from the law, from the gang, from everything, and arthur so clearly wants to, he still prioritised money and the gang over her, when mary doesn't need money, all she wants is arthur.

in the second mission, mary says "if i was fair to you, and a good person, i would have sold you out a long time ago," this is not only acknowledging her own flaws in this relationship, that she hasn't always treated arthur fairly, she's still incredibly loyal to him, as arthur is a wanted man, with a large bounty on his head, she could have him hanged if she truly was unfair to him, but she doesn't. the love she still has for him is still so strong. and arthur even admits to her being right about this.

despite the fact that mary still loves arthur and that the connection they share is still so strong, mary decides to choose herself and gives arthur the engagement ring she had kept in good condition for so long. she's constantly faced with the reality that arthur will never choose her over a life where death is around every corner. she learns that waiting for arthur is futile and damaging to her emotional health, so in the end, she chooses herself. she chooses to stop waiting and sends back the engagement ring (that she's kept for years, in good condition, that she could have sold because it's clear her family is struggling) and sends it back to arthur, a symbol of a relationship that will never find fulfilment. she prioritizes herself, even though it means letting go of the man she loves so dearly.

even though it's incredibly heartbreaking to her, given that she mentions when she's with arthur, the world feels right, she chooses self-respect and empowerment instead. despite the love she still holds for arthur, she decides to value herself and makes a choice that honours her own well-being. highlighting the strength and resilience she has gained throughout the story.

mary is an important character that adds to the depth and richness of the story and to arthur's character. her complexity mirrors arthurs, where she grapples with her own struggles and desires. she is not as one-dimensional as you portray her. dismissing her and portraying her in such a negative light does nothing but show how misogynistic you truly are.

also, the members of the gang don't like her for a variety of reasons, susan suffers from a bad case of internalised misogyny and believes that mary has ideas above her station, dutch sees mary as a threat to arthurs loyalty, only wanting arthur to be loyal to him, john, marybeths and tilly's perception of mary is heavily influenced by the emotional turmoil arthur suffers after interacting with her, because he still deeply loves her and yet the two of them cannot be together due to his loyalty to the gang. it's important to remember that out of all the gang members, abigail thinks fondly of her.

#its frustrating how people will give characters like micah the benefit of the doubt while he is obviously taking advantage of the gang #and sells them out to the law while mary has every reason to sell them out but doesn't because unlike micah #she's loyal and cares so deeply for arthur that she keeps him safe despite her better judgement #yet mary's the bitch #like honey your misogyny is showing and its making you look stupid and ugly #this started off as a response to someones shittake then it ended up into being a full analysis #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 mary gillis #mary gillis #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 van der linde gang #van der linde gang #strawberry speaks

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idyllcy · 3 months

Text

sincerely, never yours

word count: 4.8k

warnings: Inspired by TBOSAS, non explicit smut, master/pet theme

summary: in a room full of birds, there is something visibly off about you.

In the beginning of your life, if you were told that you'd get your life ripped to shreds by a boy from the richest area in the country, you would have laughed in their face. If someone told Tim that he would get his heart marred by some insignificant girl in the world, he would have sent them to the catacombs.

There is no such thing as fate.

You spend your days weaving your friends' hair, fingers working as you weave intricate patterns, voice soothing to their ears as you hum the folk songs passed on to you by your family, performers through and through. You keep your voice quiet as you sing, and you lower it further as a guard from the capitol strolls by, eyes narrowing at you as you avoid his eyes. He stares harder, brows furrowing, and eventually, you are grabbed by the chin as he laughs.

There is no one in the world who does not know the voice of a songbird.

Your family is known for their voices, yet no one lives past their youth. Fate plays the cruel trick of selection for the capitol to be sold as an entertainer, and fate plays the cruel trick of never protecting them from the diseases presented at every moment. You are not lucky. You will never be lucky. In this world, you will never be able to break the bonds of fate no matter how you try. The strings on your body will be pulled and you will be forced to perform for the rest of your days.

You are bound by the strings of fate.

And just by opening your mouth to sing, you will be tied up until there is no way out.

"The daughter of the songbird himself." He sneers. "What are you doing in the slums singing to the poor? You should be in a cage performing for the capitol just like your daddy."

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir. I'm an orphan." You flinch as he throws your head to the side, delivering a slap on your face. You can not let him take you. For if he does, you will never know the illusion of peace ever again.

"Hah. Lies." He sneers. "I'd recognize that poisonous voice at any point in time. Be thankful I didn't just take you like they did with your father. You can make this easy for you, or I can take you forcibly just like they did with your daddy."

"Sir. I really do not—"

He spits on your face. "Hard way it is."

You are yanked by the arm as a chain is clasped to your neck, and you are tazed, electricity shooting down your spine as your jaw drops in shock, the veins in your neck becoming prominent as you hold back a yell. You land on the ground as he holds you down by the head, and you grimace as the dust fills your lungs and grime digs into your hair, and you feel yourself get pulled back up, with another chain around your wrists, and you grimace as he shoves you with the tip of his gun into the car he arrived in, and you watch as your friend yells for you as you leave.

You mouth at her to stop, and you watch as she stays standing in place, even as the car rolls away, and you keep staring at her, even as her figure becomes nothing more than a spec of dust in your vision. You can not stop staring back at the past.

You arrive at the train station, and your chains are unlocked, stripped, washed, dolled up and dressed up. The maids ask you how you want to be dressed, and you ask if you are able to dress yourself. You do as they watch you, eyes on every movement of yours, and you watch as they rush over to help you lace up the corset to support your back. You stare at yourself in the mirror, and your lips are curled into a wretched grin.

An idea strikes your mind as you take notice of the treatment you are receiving.

They take you to the stage, and you cough twice as the judges step in, and you meet eyes with him.

Timothy Jackson Drake.

Ocean blue eyes and pitch-black hair, Tim is the embodiment of the elites in the capitol. Born of money, born of status, Tim Drake has everything the children on the street desire. You wonder if you could take advantage of him in some way. After all, it does make you excited to see if you could do what your father failed to do. Well, no point in crying over spoiled milk. It was only you now. It didn't matter if you had to seduce him with your body. You would pick a youngster over an old man any day of the year. Anything is better than the men in their seventies who bring home songbirds for the sole purpose of sexual release. Maybe Tim is naive enough to even love you. Though, it doesn't have to be him.

The thought of it alone makes your lips curl into a sweet smile, flashing it at him before you listen to their words.

You are to sing, and not stop singing until you are told that you can stop.

So you open your mouth, voice warm as honey, sweet to the ears, and you watch as your listeners descend into that same mania that everyone who listens to your voice does, and you stare into Tim's eyes as you sing, watching as that same sick of obsession that twisted onto the face of guard when he heard his voice mirror on Tim's face, and your lips curl into a sickening smile as you catch his attention. Your voice pulls your listeners underwater as they feel free, bubbling in the blue with their happiness, your voice there for their service.

There is no such thing as fate.

Yet, as fate pulls on you and drags you down to hell, you can try and fight it all you want.

You finally stop after one of the judges break free from your voice, and something is clasped around your neck as you land on the ground with a thud. You don't struggle, holding your head down as you listen to the judges whisper amongst themselves to see who should take you home, and you wonder if Tim likes you enough to fight against the elders. You wonder if he would win against those grimy old men who had seen your chest and decided that you would be a great bedwarmer. Well, if that were to happen, you would just have to sing a little harder. It isn't too hard to b—

Tim walks up to you when the judges leave him to take you home, and you blink up at him, doe-eyed, innocence leaking out every single pore of yours just so he can buy the act. You pray he trusts you. He brushes the hair from your face, cupping your cheek, eyes oddly gentle, and you recognize the psychotic glint in his eyes as one that used to rest in the eyes of your mother while growing up. So, you lean into his palm, eyes closing, pretending to enjoy his touch while it disgusts you to no end. You suppose he works.

The way Tim's thumb brushes your cheek convinces you that he's fallen for it.

"You'll be my songbird from now on." He explains, lips curling into a smile. "I'll treat you well as long as you obey, hm?"

You blink at him, lashes full, eyes convincing. "Alright."

Even your voice sounds like sin when you speak.

"My first order... do not speak unless permitted to." He smiles, showing all his teeth.

You nod.

Oh, such power

Tim adores it.

"Then," He whispers, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, "when I am receiving guests in twos or threes, you are never to sing to your full potential."

You bat your lashes at him in understanding.

"Finally, you have to keep the chain around your ankle at all times, hm?"

On the first night he brings you back, he has you in his bed at his mercy, listening to your voice as you mewl his name and chant it like a prayer, breathless whimpers and moans slipping past your lips as he uses you. His touches are gentle, and the words he whispers into your ear almost make you sure that he loves you, but he does not. It is painfully obvious he does not when you wake in an empty bed, but it makes no difference to you. You are his pet— to be abused, used, discarded. You are nothing but an object he holds temporary possession over, an object he will inevitably grow tired of one day, and the reminder is carved into your skin, a remembrance of your father who was used by your mother.

You are a lowlife half-blood.

That is all you ever will be.

But, you don't complain about Tim's treatment of you. Your fingers stay still as the maids apply a new set of press-ons to your nails, and you tilt your head for the maid to powder your face, and you sit on a silk-wrapped couch in Tim's study room, locked inside a human-sized glass cage as you sketch and sketch and sing and sing. You are not permitted to consume books out of a fear that you would learn rebellion, so you dabble in the arts, oil paint on your face, watercolors spilled all over the couch you sit on, fingers always busy with something. The chain on your ankle is barely noticeable.

You paint portraits of the servants that go in and out of Tim's study.

You paint portraits of your friends out of a fear that you will forget what they look like.

You paint portraits of the mysterious figure known as your father out of a wretched longing.

Your paintings are hung up around the mansion, pictures of people staring lifelessly staining the walls, but Tim pays no mind, asking if you would ever paint him one day. You do not answer him, blinking innocently instead. Tim finds it bothers him slightly, but not as much as he believes it does, and not as little as you think it does. You do not have much of an effect on him, and Tim believes that you never quite will. After all, the two of you are simply master-servant, servant-master.

However, you do find it strange that Tim never has you sing.

When he does, it is only when guests are over, and you are offered dinner in exchange. You almost fool yourself into believing he might have even taken a liking to you. You know that's not true, of course, and you find it funny that you would even entertain the thought. Though, that is not your problem— especially not when Tim has you dolled up for the first time since your arrival, telling you to sing nice and pretty for the elites of the capitol at Bruce Wayne's mansion. You have to prove that he has the best bird. It was simple.

You're paraded around to the rich of the capitol, and you perform in Bruce Wayne's manor as Tim's songbird, lips curled into a teasing smile as you play the act of a bird, voice ringing in everyone's ears as you smile sinfully at them. The song sends everyone to the waves, floating on the sea on a sunny day, the sand between their toes, the salt in their hair. The world spins in your palm slowly as your voice dances in the air, and you watch as Tim brags about you like one would about their pet, and you snicker. He is no idiot.

He knows you're acting, and you know he is.

It's really just a matter of who breaks first.

Tim tucks the loose strands of hair behind your ear as you bat your lashes prettily at him, lips pulled into a sweet smile. Even when you thank him and he tells you to save your voice for singing, the two of you are separated by a thinly clean web made of lies, two spiders on the string, waiting for the other to attack first for a reason to betray the other. The two of you dance on the strings, two, four, six, eight. And on the web of lies, the two of you hunt prey separately.

Tim is more than aware as to why you beg him to bring guests over, lips pulled into a gorgeous smile, and he brushes the hair from your face, pulling the feathers of decoration in your hair, agreeing happily— you are a symbol of his accomplishments, why wouldn't he show you off to all those men who can't have you? After all, even if they were to put their pretty hands on you like he does, their hands would only find themselves cut off. No one in the capitol has the time to arrest Tim. Not when his family was so powerful. Ah, what a symbol of status in such a corrupt world.

You stay next to his side the whole night, giggling and smiling as the men vie for your attention, kissing your hand and asking you for a dance as Tim keeps you securely by his side. You're sure he's just bubbling over with happiness over this display of power. Well, not that Tim particularly cares that you're the one attached to him. You suppose he's simply territorial over what belongs to him. You find no reason to answer any of the noblemen, especially not when Tim's first and only command for you was to not speak unless ordered to, and he had made no indication, so there was no reason for you to do so. Well, it didn't matter that much to you anyway.

You would prefer not to talk to them anyway.

At the end of the night, Tim whisks you away in the night, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, to the palm of your hand, and then up your arm to your neck, down your chest to your legs, and the rest of the night is spent much like the first night you returned to his mansion. You wonder if having you all vulnerable before him gets him off. You wonder if he is so desperate for recognition that he will do anything for it. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. You most certainly don't know. Neither do you care. You are simply waiting for something to happen to you. Maybe that will give you the freedom you so desperately crave. Besides, what point is there in escaping now? You have everything in the mansion, and neither are you beat up like you were in the street.

No.

You should escape first and then figure it out.

You listen to everything Tim says, and eventually, the lock on your cage doesn't get locked, and you are no longer watched by every servant in the house, and you breathe a little better. But those are all simple things. You need to prove that you would be loyal to Tim for the rest of your days. You didn't know how to, but you were sure the occasion would arise.

After all, Tim had plenty of enemies.

The season changes as you spend more time in Tim's mansion, and you are extremely docile, staying still and listening to everything he says, obeying his every word. You sing when commanded, and you stay quiet at all other times. Even when Tim has the servants test you for your loyalty, you do not open your mouth or speak. That earns you the unlocking of the chain around your ankle in the cage on top of the open entrance. You suppose it's great that he is giving you so much more freedom now— even if it wasn't really true freedom. It's a start, you surmise.

Tim takes you to one final gala before you hear what you want to hear.

You are dressed simply, silk hugging your skin, lips curled upward in a gentle smile as Tim helps you onto the stage. He insists on helping you do everything. The room is slightly empty save for the few noblemen who have arrived, and Tim had scheduled you early purposefully to avoid singing in front of larger crowds. You were his diamond in the rough.

So, you open your mouth and sing, eyes stuck on Tim's as your voice swims in the air.

Then, in a twist of classic capitol fashion, someone rushes toward Tim, and you yell, voice ringing in the air as Tim catches your warning, stepping to the side as they are sent to eat shit. Your voice returns to normal as soon as Tim is safe, lips curled into a stunning smile as you wrap up the song with a bow. It was so simple. It was so easy.

Tim thanks you by telling you it was alright to sing as prettily as you can in front of his guests now.

You suppose he's proud to have you as a bird now.

You listen to Tim from your cage as he talks to the ministers in the room, sketching with the pencil and paper, eavesdropping on their conversation. Your cage door is wide open, and you stay on the divan lazily, smudging the graphite on your paper as your wrist brushes over it, and you frown. In the background, Tim discusses classic politics with his companions, and you do not pay too much attention to it. After all, it was not what you wanted to hear. You were waiting for one specific point of information.

"The seventh competition is being hosted soon." One of the men speaks up. "Will you have your bird participate?"

You turn your head at the word bird.

January is approaching, and the yearly bird competition is coming up. You wonder if Tim is too protective of you to let you join. Maybe if you ask him, he will let you. You are illiterate to him, so you will have to find another way to convince him. But you stare at Tim anyway, blinking, eyes wide, almost as if asking whether or not he was talking about you. You wonder if Tim would ever think about letting you join the competition. It would be too much, but it could also be not enough. It didn't matter. You wanted to join. If you won, you would be displayed as a trophy for Tim, and you're sure Tim is just dying to have that kind of title to his name.

"Not you, pretty bird." Tim smiles. "Songbirds in general."

You nod, going back to your sketch, the graphite staining your skin as you stare at Tim, eyes darting to his face and then the paper, tilting your head as you both listen and sketch. His brows are furrowed, you assume because you've been selected for competition, and you blink at Tim as he stares at you, his lips curled into a gentle smile. You wonder if he'll give in to the greed and send you on the stage. Maybe he will. He's always been the type to give you up in the bigger picture.

"Pretty bird." He calls, and you pause in sketching, looking up.

You tilt your head to have him continue.

"What are you sketching?"

You flip the paper up, showing Tim, and he throws his head back in laughter, manic, almost.

"M-mister Drake?"

Tim steps off of his seat, holding his hand out as you hand him the drawing, and he takes your lead-stained hand, pressing his lips to the back. "Thank you, pretty bird. I look dashing."

You smile, lips curled upward gently.

"Whistle for me, birdie." Tim hums.

You oblige, notes teasing as you do, and Tim observes the looks on the men's faces.

"My bird will be participating." He smiles.

Diamonds and rubies, emeralds and sapphires, you are adorned from head to toe with the prettiest of colors and finest of silks. You wear the prettiest of colors and the softest of clothes, and thorough check-ups on your body day and night. Your tongue is shoved out as they check the condition of your throat, and you are fed warm soups and liquids all day, making sure your hydration is proper, and you stare at yourself as you wince at the way the corset is tightened. Not too tight. Your instructor tells you. She's not a songbird.

The lights backstage make you dizzy, and you exhale in your dress, the corset a little too tight yet too loose. You despise the way you are dressed like some doll, lips curled into a genuine smile as the door opens behind you. It didn't matter. You were going to win this stupid competition and break out of this hell. You would be the first to break character, but you would drag Tim into hell with you before you'd let him have the last laugh. After all, you spent so long building up a relationship with him.

"Pretty bird." Tim hums, bringing you lunch. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, I'm a little anxious..." You bat your lashes slowly. "But I think I will do well."

"Of course you will." He smiles, holding the spoon to your mouth. "You always do. Just remember to come home, alright? You don't need to emerge victorious."

You offer him a smile in return.

He doesn't even care if you speak now.

Then, Tim says goodbye to you as you are sent to the backstage with the rest of the birds. It's really simple. You make small talk with some of them, and some of them don't even look healthy enough to perform, but you suppose it isn't something you should concern yourself with. There's something else that is going to come out as an issue. You can only hope no one notices it as quickly as you had.

In a room of birds, it becomes painfully obvious that there is something off about you.

The songbirds sing and spin in the air, voices dancing with the breeze in a field of grass, mouths open as they sing to the sky, hands thrown up with their body. The sky opens up as the sun shines on them, and you watch from backstage as everyone sounds the same. The songbirds are a dime in a dozen, the same sort of singing everyone has, their voices worshipping the sky as their wings are clipped by their masters, looking up into the light as they sing towards it. Their voices are the wind in the field and the breeze in the grass. Their voices are the farmer's companion, and Midas' secret that the barber had tried to hide in the wheat. Their voices are everywhere at all times.

When you sing, everyone is pulled downward, floating in a vast expanse of blue, clouds nowhere to be seen, your voice grounding them into the depths of the world, animals soaring above and below their vision. The moisture sticks to their skin, their hearts racing as they sink further and further into your voice, something so sickeningly sweet, something so saccharinely sinful. Your voice becomes very apparent when put against the other songbirds, and you wonder if anyone could catch you. Though, it wasn't as if the predator could be hunted by the prey in their natural habitat. You were used to singing like this. It was what made you stand out to begin with. It was what helped you seduce Tim from the start. It was painfully obvious.

When you emerge victorious, you glance at Tim, and you seem to understand something.

He had received the wrong script for the play.

Then, you're presented on a stage with the rest of the winning songbirds at a gala at the beginning of the year, the crows betting more and more money on who would out-sing the others, and you blink at Tim innocently, feigning confusion as you watch as he is told that you were selected for freedom, stuck with the rest of the contestants, a confused smile on your lips as you are dragged off and dressed in rags again, promptly tossed into a puzzle room with the other winning songbirds.

"Fellow birds! Welcome to your only chance at survival! Seven of you are selected, and only one of you will emerge victorious and leave your masters' homes as a free man! You know you want it, songbirds. Will you live in a cage forever?"

You suppose your cage is less of a cage and more... glass.

Right. Not that it matters anymore.

You are placed in a room with the rest of the winning songbirds, and you blink at the screen as notes are played and the birds sing. No one can mess this up. It was a fundamental of being a songbird, so there would have been no result. However, no one in the capitol really cares if their bird dies. So, when a false chord is displayed on the screen and the bird selected sings, the sound of a gun renders everyone stupid.

You watch as the first songbird is killed when they are unable to sing a note on command.

Their body drops to the floor lifelessly, and the other songbirds scream. Instead, you step closer to the body, craning your neck as you squat down to take a look at the wound. Then, you stare at the cameras in the corner of the room, get up, and lean into some random songbird, lips curled into a teasing smile.

"How trusting of me are you right now?" Your voice is but a whisper.

The songbird tells you nothing.

Then, you stare at the camera, smiling.

You hide your mouth. "The second door at the second trial of the game leads to a bottomless pit."

Tim watches you from the cameras, eyes sharp as he tries to read what you are mouthing— but it is to no avail. he is stuck sitting back in his seat instead, quietly praying that the trust you had placed in him was not for no reason. He had slipped you the correct answer for each trial, so there was no reason for you to pick the wrong answer in any of them if you valued your life. Though, it's not like he told you that both doors were the correct answer in the last trial. People often fought in order to enter the slide marked as the correct answer, and nine times out of ten, someone was killed in the last trial at the hands of a songbird. That was what made an elite in the capitol— the blood on your hands.

You lean away, and surely enough, when the second door emerges and everyone rushes into it, only you and the other songbird remain. You open the first door and then step through it, inviting them to follow you once you make sure it is safe, and the two of you are left with picking a slide. You nudge him to the wrong slide, and you step in front of the slide, turning to stare at him. There's a silence that hangs in the air, and for a second, the songbird thinks that you only let them survive because they were selected by you.

Which isn't true, obviously.

Since when have you chosen someone anyway?

Tim watches you from the screen, fingers relaxing, lips curled into a gentle smile.

See? He has no reason to worry.

You stare at the two doors before you, lips curled into a menacing smile, and you tell your partner to take the safe slide out of the game to take the crown of victor. You step to the wrong answer instead, and the elites in the room murmur amongst themselves at your act of disobedience. You stand behind the other songbird in the room as he sits in the seat at the only seat on the slide, checking to see if there are any mechanisms that could kill him. It was an act of compassion to one, but it was an act of betrayal to another. Tim supposes that he was the one who was fooled the whole time.

Tim's voice rings in the command room, his comrades holding him from the mic on the desk as you send your partner down the safe slide, watching as the latch closes for the safe door and you step before the wrong one, blinking slowly, lips curled into a cruel smile, turning your head for the camera, baring all your teeth.

And suddenly, Tim is reminded of the first time he met you.

"I had never picked you."

And you disappear.

It's a shame though. You never said you were a songbird.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #timothy drake x reader #tim x reader #☾.fics #surprise you thought my ass wasn't gonna post dc anymore huh?? u THOUGHT /j

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