#‘man we’re all just vessels for them’

[devilat-thedoor]

a man’s descent into madness

[the-summ0ning]

Sleep Token HC: being in a relationship with vessel

Hello, I hope you like my final HC for Ves. Fluff elements with highly NSFW ideas. 🤠 I’m always open to HC requests as well 🤭

Vessel, vessel, vessel—where do we begin?

Vessel the bf that is so deeply profoundly in love with you

If he could he’d rip his heart out of his chest for you and just hand it to you, he would.

His love languages would be words of affirmation and physical touch

He often battles with icky thoughts of himself, and you’re his ever radiant light in his bleakest days, so he would go out of his way to make sure it was known

Notes everywhere around your house, even a month and half into tour, you keep finding them

Praises in your medicine cabinet, crumbled pieces of paper at the bottom of your bags bc he know you won’t find them right away. Little Sonnets on your desk or on the fridge just so you know how much you are loved by him

Once you stopped finding them around the house or in your things, he’d start sending flowers or treats with love notes attached. Just because gestures especially if the night before you told him what a long week it was and knew you were struggling

You have so many of these notes, post its, scraps of paper you’ve compiled them in a scrapbook/binder and it’s on your bookshelf now

Texts for when you wake up reminding you to take your meds/vitamins, and to keep up with your water intake—voice memos too

Honestly he’d send you voice memos all the time like it was your own little podcast

Having black paint smeared on you because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself

Or would want you to apply his body paint before a show. Squirming underneath your fingers as you apply it because of your featherlight touches, listening to his quiet hisses when you’d go too low and gentle

“We’re not going to make it out of this dressing room if you keep doing that, love.”

Vessel would love to be big spoon, having you tucked underneath him or your back against his chest. Tracing patterns on your arms, hips, and thighs

He always loomed around you, everyone knowing if you were there, he was somewhere lurking around 95% of the time. He was a quietly protective man.

Coming up when you were talking with friends at an event, a comforting squeeze to the nape of your neck and a drink to quietly check on you

Wearing one of his extra robes backstage. It was so big and light, perfect for the hot and humid venues, a great blanket tbh where you could use the hood to cover your face

There’s a folder in his phone dedicated with pictures of you in many spaces of the venues they played just sleeping with his robe over you

Also the amount of videos of you two just frolicking around backstage, helping him with dance moves whilst in his robe that dragged on the floor, nearly tripping on it, when you wore it because it was so long on you

You liked to go into the crowd during the shows, enjoying the atmosphere of fans. Vessel would get a kick out of that, and you two would make it like a game almost

Instantly being able to spot you in the crowd through the lights and smoke. Always looking in your direction to lowkey serenade you and do little inconspicuous moves directed for you. In return, you’d run your hands through up and down your body swaying your hips to his voice. His own little siren in the sea of people

He loved watching you jam tf out with the fans so careless in your own world dancing with everyone or receiving bracelets from the fellow concertgoers (he would panic slightly watching you try to go into the mosh pit every time tho, one time he actually had to send a member of the crew to discreetly retrieve you.)

I imagine vessel being codependent af, and the simplest of tasks you were always requested to tag along

groceries, pharmacy trips, picking up takeout—he needed his emotional support person. Bribing and rewarding you with little treats to lure you with him thinking you’d say no how could you he’d hit you with the puppy dog eyes I just know he’s master at that

Staying up or waking up to listen to his late night rambles/dreams/conspiracies tucked under his arm while sharing a joint or bottle of spirits

Or sitting beside him as he wrote song lyrics, quietly running them by you for your opinion. You just blinking slowly in awe with what his mind created unable to provide the input he wanted

I thinks it’s a mutual consensus among us: Vessel loves to bite. He can’t help his carnal primal urge to. He does it with his friends, you… Everyone had a mark from him at this point

I don’t imagine him being into quickies (unless he was absolutely throbbing and thirsting for you) this man would take his time. Setting the pace all during the day teasing you

He loved nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses below your ear and whispering the filthiest things to get you flustered

“You look so good right now, I could take you right here.”

“I can’t wait to get you home and be deep inside you later, doll.” He would murmur, his hand squeezing your hip pulling you back into him feeling his already hardening length pressing in the soft flesh of your ass

Then when it finally happened, he goes at a nearly agonizing pace—he wanted to worship you. He didn’t like to fuck, he liked to make love.

intense and passionate, hips slowly rolling into you up til you were full of him. And he kept hitting that spot that made your eyes see stars and lulled to the back of your head.

He was not shy about how he felt, always moaning and praising you, but wasn’t too loud. Vocal fry as he quietly moaned about how good you made him feel

“You’re squeezing me so well,” rasping out, trying to look at where your bodies connected, resisting the urge to close his eyes

“Fuck, you look so pretty under me.”

He’s 100% a morning sex person

Not even letting either of you have a chance to get out of bed, one hand slipping down your front rubbing you softly while the other gripped your throat to turn your face so he could slowly kiss you—devouring your mouth with his—all in a blissed out half sleep stupor

Hehe, I woke up from my nap and chose violence horniness, sorry. Anyways thanks for the support and all the love on these 🫶🏻✨

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Worship

a/n I won’t say anything because what is there to say… Also, this is fiction idk why but I just feel the need to wave that flag here.

Summery: Just on stage shenanigans between you, the back singer, and the boys.

warning: no full on smut because there’s so much of that as it is but they are sex on legs so this does have sexual implications. I’m just a girl. And I feel like I should go confess my sins to someone.

All of them x reader

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Nothing truly beats the feeling of the stage lighting beaming on you. The radiant atmosphere and the beating of the crowd in front of the stage. It got addictive fast. And the rush of both adrenaline and freedom you never truly got over. Most of the time, it still felt like a dream. Like you weren’t there. There weren’t four other people. A whole band that people swooned over. 

You still remember the notification of the private message in your DMs. “We’ve seen your videos. The voice is to die for. Up to back us up?” You had stared at it for hours. Pressing the profile over and over again, convinced that one of the times it would take you to some scammy account, but it didn’t. So you took that leap of fate, and the roller coaster that unfolded still made your skin tingle at times. 

“How you don’t break an ankle in these is beyond me," II grumbled, gesturing to the high heels you were strapping around your legs. Before throwing the towel he had just used to dry his hair with, at you. You huffed back, “Of course you wouldn’t know; you sit and look pretty the whole show."  You shot him an overly exaggerated smile before flipping him off. “Put the claws away, baby," he said, lifting his hands up, “I would love to keep my eyes for some time longer." You lifted both of your hands, making sure to flex the black coffin-shaped nails, only earning a chuckle in return from II. 

“No form of violence is allowed backstage," III cut in, putting the mask over his face, “Unless it’s consensual, of course." The three of you snickered. There was never a dull moment with them. You weren’t sure exactly why you imagined them to be all cold and unapproachable, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. From the silly hats they happily took from the fans to messing around on stage barking. “We’re out in thirty,"  IV's voice cut through the snickering. “Vess?”, you questioned, standing up only to still feel tiny among them. It was unfair how even killer heels had you feeling minuter. “In his element, ready to go," the usual then. You turned to the mirror while doing the last checkups. Fiddling with the straps of your dress.

“Headset feels good?”, warm hands slipped up your beck, fidgeting with the wires as if he even knew what he was doing. “You just needed an excuse to put your hands on me, sir," you said, pushing back against IV’s chest. He already had his mask on, but from the way his blue eyes flickered, you knew he was smirking at you. “You can’t call the man guilty if you haven’t caught him red-handed, darling,"  he muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “And to my defense, the wire wasn’t plugged in,"  he snickers before pulling back. You shook your head as you watched him follow after the boys out. Reaching for your mask, you take a couple of deep breaths to steady your heartbeat. It was going to be a night to remember. You could just feel it. 

And your gut wasn’t wrong. The crowd was wild tonight, and that always set the bend into a different kind of frenzy. For most of the shows, you were usually up there on your pedestal. Looking like a vision cloaked in both light and darkness, there were some songs that Vessle liked having you down there with him. But you always felt almost guilty. You didn’t want the fans to feel like you were there to change the dynamic. Let alone take up a spot that wasn’t yours to take. 

So when you noticed Vessel striding towards you, you couldn’t help but silently shake your head. They had already all been all over each other all night. But you don’t get to run through all of your reasons as to why this was a bad idea before Vessel was in front of your pedestal. Hands reaching up for your ankles before he pointed for you to get down. You shook your head at him, continuing to sing your part. Not wanting the interaction to seem odd, you sank to your knees so you can touch his face, only realizing how wrong this move was once Vessel's hands grip the sides of your hips and you’re airborne before you can even blink. 

A small shriek slips past your lips as you hold onto his shoulders. But no matter what your reaction to this was, he was all smug about it. His white teeth bright against the black paint covering his body. “I don’t like it when you put on unnecessary fights," he mused before turning back to the crowd. So, you let the thrill of the beat take over. Playing into the role of the masked goddess. A siren. That was the beauty of the mask. Such little thing making the biggest difference. Giving one the chance to feel way more confident. 

And it’s II your legs take you to first. His eyes follow your movements all across the stage. With the drum set taking most of his platform he was sat on, playing games with this man was tricky. But it wasn’t impossible. So you slither behind him. Placing your hand on top of his head, you carefully make him look up at you. That same moment, the heel II was so found off finds its way between his parted legs. Without missing a beat, his face is pressed into your upper thigh, fingers dipping beneath the mesh overlay of your dress. And you know there will be hell to pay later on from the way he’s gripping your ankle. You push his face away from your body, throwing him a lighthearted kiss as you hurry down the platform stairs. The roar of the crowd filling all of your senses. 

III is left to your mercy next. And since his eyes were all over you, you knew that even if you were to walk right past him, he would follow you across the stage. So you stand there, motioning with your fingers for him to come to you. Right as your part of the solo vocals came. Ones that boys even called your siren song. You let the melody pour out of you. Watching III sink to his knees in front of you. Your brain blanks for a moment as he leans forward, and you just know why the crowd erupts in chaos. So your fingers find his head, pulling him even closer. Let him paint the picture of devouring you. Worshipping you. And you’re yet again so thankful for the mask covering your face because you know that your face would be as red as the paint on his skin. Especially after he stands back up. Fingers moved to brush over his lips as if he was cleaning them.

You can feel someone’s eyes burning holes in your body, and you’re not even one bit surprised to see IV with his eyes blazing. He was the one you flirted the most with backstage as well. Since day one, there was just that mutual fire you both shared. So the back and forth between you both was never-ending. But if there was one thing IV avoided, it was making any move towards you while everyone was on stage. And while boys took their sweet time being lunatics when it came to you. His play pretend ended with his bandmates. Yet you didn’t miss the glances he threw your way. Or how he would find himself close to your pedestal, close enough to touch but never leaning in. 

And while your head was telling you that maybe he just didn’t want to get involved, your heart was telling you to take yet another leap of faith. So you two stood in front of each other for a heartbeat. And right as Descending’s you came crawling back to me, filled the stage. Your finger hooked beneath the bottom of his mask as you pulled him closer. No matter the blast of sounds around you, you could still make out the growl that slipped past his lips. And since his eyes promised hell, you threw all caution to the wind as you leaned in, smashing your lips against his. You didn’t let it linger for too long; there was little fun in having two masks between you both, but it got the point across well enough. 

IV’s hand reached for you as you moved back away. A freaked-out giggle slipped past your lips as you darted towards your last victim for the night. Well, and shelter now, considering that you had to get away from IV. Vessel was someone you knew had to be worshipped in front of the fans. You weren’t living under a rock. His hands and fingers had separate fan blogs, not to mention his carved-out chest muscles. So you slipped behind him. Letting your fingers trail the sides of him. Finding the sweat-drenched skin. Dragging your nails over the paint, no doubt leave claw marks in its way. 

You rested your head against Vessel’s beck for a heartbeat, hoping to slip from behind him with ease. But you couldn’t have been more wrong because the moment you took the reassured stride away from him. A firm hand gripped your hair as he carefully, yet rather possessively, dragged you back to him. Pulling your head back so he could look down at you, shaking his head. But the smile gave his controlling demeanor away. “Whatever will we do with you, little Vixen?" You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. Playfully pushing at his chest, you slipped out of his grip. Swaying your hips as you slowly climbed back to the steps of your pedestal. Not letting your brain think of the hell you just set ablaze.

[gurugirl]

THE COUNT | {vamprry} a preview

Series Summary: Count Styles lives on an island you’ll not find on any map. He’s lived in relative solitude for ages and is happy to have the rare occasional guest who accidentally runs into his small slice of the world, though they may not be as thrilled by his intentions once they find out what he is.

When Y/n's weather vessel crashes into his island one stormy night he greets her and offers her shelter in his castle while she waits for someone to help repair her boat. She soon comes to adore the strange and charming man and grows a worrying attachment. But she cannot help herself. No matter how much she learns about the Count and how strange her world has become she cannot seem to pull herself out of the haze of his alluring spell.

Even when her life depends on it.

..

Short preview below.

NOTE: this preview is from part 2

. . .

Pressing her ear closer to the door she closed her eyes and there was a distinct male voice, a sobbed moan that, after a loud thud, turned into something like a pitiful crying. But then she heard another voice and there was something familiar in the way it cooed and teased almost. She could not make out words but the sentiment was clear. There were two people in that room having sex and one of them was Harry. The other sounded to be a man.

Stepping back from the door she realized her mouth was hung open in surprise. Perhaps the Count was into men. Well, he was quite pretty. She could imagine that she supposed. Before she could even turn around the sounds behind the door stopped and the silence that suddenly surrounded her had her heart picking up a beat. Had she made a noise?

She swallowed and turned her head to see her door open down the hallway and wondered if she could make it quickly before anyone knew that she’d been listening in.

But the moment that thought popped into her head the door opened up and there was Harry in a long white cotton pijama, the top unbuttoned and nearly draped off his shoulder. She glanced over his frame and back up to his eyes but he was different. His irises were almost black and his mouth was set strangely, like he had swollen gums, “Would you like something, Y/n?”

Shaking her head she stepped back, “No. Sorry. I… heard something… nothing. I’m going back to bed. Sorry!”

She turned to move away but he stopped her, his hand wrapped around her upper arm, making her twist back to face him, “Are you sure don’t want anything?”

She darted her eyes behind him to the room he’d been in and it appeared to be lit by a fireplace. She saw something move across the doorway but couldn’t make out what (or who) it was.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you. That… I was just worried…”

He smiled, his lips covering his teeth as he closed the door behind him and stepped in dangerously close, holding her arm to keep her from inching away. He looked down at the dirtied material tucked under her arm and he grunted softly, “Oh my. What is this?”

Letting go of her arm he plucked the defiled sheets and nightgown from her and dropped the sheet to the floor, his hands crumpling around the white fabric, thumb dragging into the slippery wetness where her arousal had dripped.

She felt herself flush hot with embarrassment as she watched the Count inspect the damage she’d done to her nightgown. It was obvious what it was he was looking at.

“Poor, Y/n,” his dark eyes met hers as he lifted his thumb to his mouth and ran the pad of his digit against his tongue, eyes fluttering closed when he swallowed.

All of the breath in her lungs was caught and now the flush of heat was forming in her tummy as she watched him enjoy the taste. Her taste.

His jaw clenched as he opened his eyes and looked down at her, dark irises raking over her frame and then back up to her face, a deep exhale escaping his chest, “We’re all carnal beings, Y/n. There’s no shame in the body’s natural reaction to an arousing dream. All you have to do is call for me next time and I’ll make the emptiness go away. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She couldn’t blink or look away from him. She was trapped by his haunting gaze as he drew a finger from her jaw up to her temple and then back down until he’d gently scraped his nail over her pulse point, pressing in just enough to make a small indent bite into her flesh, before lifting and pushing his nail in crosswise against the same spot.

“X marks the spot. Doesn’t it, Y/n?”

She gulped, “What’s that mean?”

Harry lowered his face close to hers. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, “If you ask politely,” he wrapped his hand around the side of her neck, thumb dragging against her jaw, “I’ll show you what it means.”

. . .

This series will only be on Patreon! If you liked this preview, consider joining my Patreon for more exclusive content like this.

xoxo

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VII

*inhales aggressively* VESSEL CHAPTER!!!!!! FINALLY!!!! Reader has a talk with the boys about what exactly happened with the night's kissing incident, after so much time of him being a bit distant towards reader Vessel decides to let his softer side show, plus more moments with III because I'm in love with him and I can't help myself sorry not sorry hehe I can't wait to know what you all think of this chapter thank you all so much for all the wonderful comments. If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!!

WARNINGS: discussion of boundaries, proposals of a polyamorous relationship (I tried my best to make it realistic but I, myself, am not polyamorous), fluffy stuff per usual. NOT PROOFREAD

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Part VI - Part VIII

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The sight before you almost made you want to laugh. The four grown men that sat in various seats around your living room almost resembled a group of school kids waiting anxiously outside the principal's office. “I’m sorry.” III was the first of them to speak up.

“No, if anything I should be the one apologizing.” II quickly follows, both of them unable to even look in your direction.

“I’m not upset at either of you, I’m just… confused.” You respond softly.

“It started off as simple crushes; me, IV, III, Ves.” You noticed Vessel’s shoulder tense as he was dragged into this conversation as well. “We all think you’re beautiful-”

“And very sweet.” III adds on. You can’t help the subtle smile that finds its way to your lips at their compliments.

“We could tell things had gotten a little more serious between you and III so we all decided to back off. But, I can’t lie to you,” II chuckled, “I’m a very jealous man. So when someone tries to keep me from what I want I don’t typically respond the best.”

“And I don’t feel right asking you to commit solely to me when you clearly have feelings for II, as well.” III adds his piece. You found it odd, there was no anger in his voice at the thought of you with his friend. “I guess what we’re trying to say is, um…” he trails off, looking to II as he searches for the right words to say.

“How would you feel about dating all of us?” Vessel breaks the thick tension with his blunt question. You felt like all of the air had been punched from your lungs, your heart jumping into your throat as your head snapped in his direction.

“Vessel, you can’t phrase it like that!” IV groans from his spot on your couch, dropping his head into his hand.

“What? She's a big girl, you don't need to beat around the bush.”

“Dating… dating all of you?” You finally mutter after a few moments of shocked silence.

“Obviously only if you're comfortable with that.” III stands from his seat, slowly stepping closer to you. “You don't have to say yes to any of this. It doesn't matter if you want to date only me, or if you would be okay dating all of us. Hell, after dropping this on you, there's a chance you might not want to see any of us ever again.” You didn't miss the nervousness that laced its way into his laughter. III was genuinely scared that this was going to fully push you away. “But, it's about what you want, that's the important part.”

“And you're all okay with this?” You would be lying if you tried to say you didn't find the offer very appealing. Every member of the group that sat before you drew you to them in one way or another, they were definitely an attractive bunch to put it lightly; III with his subtle intensity, who was always making you laugh, II who would turn you into a flustered mess with his sweet words, IV who’s easily excitable nature and blind confidence when it came to complimenting you made your heart thrum in your chest, Vessel who lets his hand linger on your waist as he maneuvers around you doing restock days, who holds your gaze for perhaps a little longer than necessary when wishing you goodbye at night. But, could you really handle four relationships? 

“The way we see it, we’d rather share you with others who we know are going to take good care of you than to be forced to hold our tongues about how we feel about you.” II explains.

“I…” you trail off as you look between the four of them. “I need some time to think.” Your voice shook slightly as you spoke.

“Of course.” Vessel responds. Without another word II, III, and IV stood, quietly said their goodbyes to you and left your apartment. Vessel hung back for a moment, waiting for III to fully shut the door behind him before breathing out a sigh. “I'm sorry that all of this happened the way it did. I kept telling them to wait to bring it up.” His gaze drops to you, who was silently fidgeting with your fingers as you leaned against the wall.

“I can always tell them to back off, love.”

“No, you don't have to do that.” You brush him off. “It's nothing to do with any of you, you're all incredible. It's just- it's me, that's what the problem is.” You tried to force a laugh to prove to Vessel that you were fine, his unchanging expression let you know immediately that he saw right through you. “You're all so wonderful, and the fact that you would be willing to make such a huge compromise.” You stare through the slits of his mask, believing you were meeting his eyes. “What if it's not worth it?”

You didn't have time to register what was happening before Vessel was in front of you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I know I might not be as… prominent with my acts of affection as the others.” He pulls back slightly, one large hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as your eyes instinctively rise to look at him. “But, considering II put things out in the open, I need you to know that I care for you viscerally.” The soft growl that found its way into his voice made your cheeks grow warm. “I don't want you to feel pressured into anything you don't want, but I need you to understand that there has not been a single moment since I met you that would make me think any of this wasn't worth it.” You blink slowly as a hand comes to rest on the top of your head, comfortingly patting the spot. “Would it be alright if I came and checked in tomorrow?” You nod, reluctantly letting your hands fall away from their position pressed against his chest as he stepped back, his warmth fading away with it.

“Goodnight, Ves.” Your voice cracked slightly as you tried to keep your overwhelming emotions in check.

“Goodnight love, rest well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched the second hand on the clock tick, bringing you closer to when Vessel would usually make his nightly supply runs. You hadn’t managed to sleep at all the night prior, tossing and turning as you played through every scenario you could think of as you made your decision. At the sight of the familiar pick up truck rumbling into the lot you felt your heart race. “This is it.” You muttered out loud to the empty store. “No going back now.” He poked his head through the door before fully entering.

“You still open?” He offers you a playful smile.

“No, but for you I'll make an exception.” You giggle in response. He slowly steps inside and approaches the counter.

“How’d thinking on things go?” He rests his elbows on the counter, bringing him closer to face level with you.

You set a hand down on the counter, Vessel cautiously reaching out to take it in his own. He hesitates for a moment, his hand drawing back slightly as if he was preparing to pull away. His fingers were rough against the soft skin of your hand when he finally decided to take his, his thumb running languidly across the peaks and valleys of your knuckles as he waited patiently for your response. “I want to take things slow… but the thought of having all of you to myself is a little too good to pass up.” He breathes out a chuckle, flashing you a sharp smirk that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Is that so?” He mulls over how to respond to your statement for a moment. “How about I make us dinner and we can sit down and talk about how slow you want to take things, just so we can make sure everyone is on the same page.”

“You want to cook me dinner?” You shoot him a playful smile. “Is it going to be edible?” He bellows out a laugh in response.

“You're funny, you know I've been told I'm a wonderful cook.” He points an accusatory finger at you, standing up to collect what ingredients he needed from around the store. “Just you wait and see, this is going to be the best damn meal you've ever eaten.”

The whole thing was a bit strange in the best way. If he hasn't told you so directly you would've sworn that Vessel thought of you as little more than an acquaintance. But now, you were sitting on your kitchen counter, a glass of white wine swirling around in your hand, rolling your eyes playfully at all of Vessel’s terrible jokes as he made the two of you dinner. He asks you where you keep your plates, you easily reach into the cabinet behind you and produce a pair, holding them out to him with a soft smile. He carefully plates the pasta he made, penne with bacon and spinach and some type of cream sauce he had pulled together with odds and ends from your pantry. “It smells incredible.” He saunters in front of you, trapping you on the counter by placing a hand on either side of your waist.

“And here you were questioning my culinary skills.” He feigns a hurt tone before a soft chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Come on beautiful, let's go eat.” He pulls away from you, your body trailing after his warmth. You pad your way into the living room, Vessel close behind as he carries your plate for you. You sat close together on the couch, angling yourself to better face him. “So, define slow.” He jumps in immediately.

“Let me at least get a couple bites in.” Vessel can't help but smile at your teasing tone. “I just… I don’t know. This is all so different I don't think I can really tell you what going slow even means.”

“Well, I can assure you that all of us care a lot about how you feel during all of this.”

“And I know that.”

“I think you're worried about more than just taking things slow, love. What's on your mind?” The softness to his tone immediately lulled your anxious mind into a sense of safety.

“I'm worried about things developing quicker in certain relationships than others, I just don't want that to cause any of you to fight.” You absentmindedly twisted your fork around in your fingers, studying it as you tried to put into words what was racing through your mind.

“That might happen, but if it does it's alright. Unfortunately that's just something we have to deal with.” He chuckles. “There's no doubt in my mind that you would be more comfortable moving a bit quicker with III than you would with me, he started flirting with you from the start. We all know that you're in various stages of getting to know us, we're more than willing to give you time to figure all of that out.” Hearing him being so reassuring made the heaviness weighing in your chest lighten considerably. “Is there anything else I can do to ease that pretty little head of yours?” You slowly shake your head no before pausing. You looked at the man before you, swallowing thickly as you mulled over an idea. Vessel was an enigma to you even after months of knowing him. He was aloof, quiet, but the few rare instances he let part of his personality break through you could tell just how wonderful he could really be.

“Dance with me?” The question hung in the air for a moment before Vessel wordlessly rose to his feet.

“I will warn you, I'm not much of a dancer.” He chuckles, outstretching his hand for you to take. His palm was warm against your fingertips; the smudged edges of his paint were a stark contrast to the pale skin underneath.

“What a shame, neither am I.” You giggle in response before he pulls you to your feet. He looks around the room, making a small sound of affirmation to himself before pushing your coffee table out of the way to open up the space. You walked over to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, clicking on your radio and letting the soft tune crackle to life. Vessel stood in the center of the room, hands shoved into his pockets as he waited for your return, a soft smile settling onto his lips.

“You look really beautiful today.” He says softly, one strong arm reaching out for you and wrapping around your waist when you were within reach. Your fingers intertwine with his, Vessel watching carefully as each delicate digit slotted between his own. Your cheeks grow warm as you timidly accept the compliment. You had never been this close to Vessel before, feeling the way his muscles tensed and shifted under the hand that rested on his shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. You were unable to tear your eyes away from him, the intricate detailing along the edge of his mask highlighting how wide and bright his smile was as he gazed down at your flustered form. The music you had turned on was non existent at this point, the only thing mattering at this point in time was Vessel finally allowing you the briefest glimpse inside his walls. You managed to trip over your own feet, yelping slightly as you stumbled into him. “Easy now, I got you.” He chuckles, helping to steady you on your feet. “If you're going to faint at least wait until I kiss you for the first time.” He jokes

“Already thinking about kissing me, huh?” You smile coyly

“It'd be hard not to with a pretty face like that.” You let out a flustered laugh, your eyes dropping to the floor. You jumped when there was a sudden knock on the door. You reluctantly pull out of Vessel’s grasp, his fingers trailing across your waist as he tries to remain connected to you until the last possible moment. You slowly open the door, not knowing who to expect on the other side so late. You froze when your eyes landed on III, who was nervously swaying his heels on the creaky wooden landing outside. The moment he realized you had answered he immediately began to ramble.

“I'm sorry, I know you said you needed time to think and I absolutely respect that. I just, I know we kissed, and if you decide you don't want to go through with this I don't want it to make things weird-”

“III.” His mouth snaps shut as you softly say his name. You look back into your living room, Vessel’s head rested in his hand, he seemed mildly annoyed to be interrupted. Not knowing how to respond, you simply pushed the door wide open, III’s attention immediately drawn to Vessel. “We were actually just talking about that.” His eyes widen slightly, his gaze switching between you and his friend.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt-”

“I was just leaving, actually.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. You turn to face him as he walks up to you. He cradles your face in his hand, “tonight was wonderful, I hope we get to do this again soon.” He swipes his thumb across your cheek, leaving a thin black streak in its wake. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, Ves.” You respond breathlessly. You turn to face III, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before reaching out and taking his hand, tugging him inside your apartment. His eyes stay locked on you as he follows you through the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “I really enjoyed, um… kissing you last night was really nice.” You let out a flustered laugh. “I don’t want you to worry that you made things weird.”

He chuckles, “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He stuffs his hand in his pockets, shifting his weight awkwardly. “I hope that talk you guys were having was a good one.”

“I think you’ll be very satisfied with the outcome.” You giggle. He gazes at you curiously, the usual playful sparkle back in his eyes when he realized he hadn’t scared you off.

“Is that so?” He saunters closer to you, his towering height and intense gaze threatening to make your knees buckle. “You let me know if any of this is moving too fast, okay?” He says sweetly, gently cupping your jaw.

“Okay.” You smile up at him. He trails his thumb over your bottom lip, his bright blue eyes darting around your features as he drank in the sight of you.

“You are simply gorgeous, love.” He whispers after a moment of silence.

“You flatter me too much.” Both hands slide around your waist, gently pulling you flush against him.

“I'm only telling my girl the truth.” He smiles. Your eyes flash up to meet his, the declaration of being his girl making your heart flutter in your chest. “Well, it seems like we have the night to ourselves. What would you like to do?” Wordlessly you take one of the hands that had settled against the curve of your hip, guiding him towards your couch. You threw on a movie, something mindless that you didn't need to pay attention to. Tonight was about spending time with III. No distractions, no hidden feelings, just you and someone who made you feel like a girl experiencing her first crush all over again. III takes you in his arms, laying back and pulling you on top of him in the process. One arm resting comfortably behind his head, the other slung over your waist as the two of you cuddled in a comfortable silence. “You know, I was really worried all of this would make you never speak to me again.” He speaks up after a while through a quiet chuckle.

“I was definitely a bit nervous about the idea, still kind of am if I'm being honest.” You laugh softly, absentmindedly tracing shapes against the soft material of his sweatshirt on his chest. “But, none of you have given me any reason not to trust you, so despite being nervous I feel like this is the right choice.”

“How you feel about this is very important to me, okay? If there's ever anything I can do for you love, just let me know.” He rubs his hand soothingly up and down your back, keeping you pressed close to him almost as if he was scared if he let you go you'd disappear. The two of you stayed up talking late into the night; you learned that III is more of a cat person than a dog person, his favorite color is red, and he would willingly disappear into the woods without a trace if it meant never folding laundry again. “It's such a dumb concept, I'm going to put the damn clothes on anyways. Why do they have to be folded and put away?” You hid your face against his shoulder, trying to hide the fact you had tears forming in your eyes from laughing so hard. You look up at him with a bright smile, the tangent dying in his throat as his eyes meet yours. He slowly sits himself up on his elbows, your body responding as it gradually slid into his lap. One of his hands pressed into the small of your back, keeping you held as close to him as possible, the other moving to cup your cheek.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about kissing you since last night.” You admit in a tone barely above a whisper.

“Trust me, I wasn't doing much better.” He chuckles, his gaze briefly flashing down to your lips. “Everything about you… everything about you is just so perfect, and for the life of me I can't figure out why you give me the time of day.”

“Because you make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world.” Your voice shook as you spoke, you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears and you were nearly positive that III could hear it too.

“Because you are the only girl in the world for me.” He admits without a second thought. “I haven't been able to get last night out of my head. Of course I want to kiss you again, but this time I want to kiss you and mean it.” Trembling fingers rose to the edge of his mask, glancing up at him through your lashes asking for silent permission to raise his mask enough to kiss him. He nods, studying your nervous expression as you gently took the edge of the fabric and raised it to just below his nose. Your breath was snatched from your lungs as III crushed his lips against yours, your mind immediately swimming in the overwhelming sensation that was him. His lips subtly sweet as he eased your mouth open, his tongue carefully caressing yours, making sure to take things at a bear agonizing pace in order for you to be able to back away at any time. Your hands slid up his torso, III shivered under your delicate touch. You felt lightheaded as the kiss took over your senses; the euphoric feeling of his warm lips against yours, the deep, earthy smell of his cologne, his massive hand kneading at the softness of your hip. You both pulled away equally breathless, your hands coming up to his mask in order to readjust it into place before he had a chance to.

“I think you definitely meant it this time.” You giggle, your forehead falling to rest against his.

“There's going to be plenty more where that came from.” He winks playfully at you.

III decided to leave you for the night when you could barely keep your head up anymore. He scoops you up in his arms. You grumble in annoyance despite the fact you immediately begin to nuzzle your face against his chest. “Where are we going?” You ask through a yawn.

“I’m taking you to bed sweetheart, you need to rest.” He chuckles.

“-’m not tired.” You try to protest, your actions only make him laugh again before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Says the woman who can’t keep her eyes open.” You could hear his smile in his voice.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You admit softly.

“I know love, but you have a store to run, I’m afraid I’ve kept you up more than I already meant to.” He carefully maneuvers himself so he’s holding you in one arm, pulling back your blankets with his now free hand. He lays you gently into bed, his knuckles trailing across your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His head dips down, allowing you to share one more chaste kiss before he left you to fall into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[satorusugurugurl]

Maze of Fears

Summary: What Happens when you finally decide to get over your irrational fear of haunted houses? Your girlfriend’s drag you to one of the most notorious ones in the country! Only Scares aren’t the only thing that awaits you when you enter. A Rekindling romances as well. Good thing you’re into men wearing masks!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, role-play, chasing, mentions of machete and chainsaw (fake!) haunted house, primal play, masked men, public sex, locker sex sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 3.9K

A/N: Kinktober day six: Haunted House! Masked!Geto! God this took on a life of it’s own! I need him your honor! 🥴

“I hate you! I Hate you all. I hate you all. I hate you all!” You curse at your girlfriends, Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki, who all turned their attention to you. “I fucking hate you.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, and I know I’m not, but this is your idea. You’re the one who wanted to get over this irrational fear you have haunted houses,” Shoko interjected, stopping the seemingly ending word vomit that spilled from your lips. “We just decided to be friends and come with you.”

“I hate you.”

This wasn’t your school festival, haunted house—the ones you and your classmates would make during school festivals. The cheap ones were all handcrafted with shitty special effects makeup. If it were something similar to that, you could handle it. Unfortunately, this was in high school, and you weren’t at some shitty haunted house. You stood before Japan's scariest haunted house: The Maze of Nightmares. They are notorious for their top-notch actors, scary effects, and disorienting lights.

This specific haunt has been featured on the Travel Channel and several different YouTube accounts. It was also the haunted house that Shoko thought would be the perfect place to walk through to get over your fear of them, which, in all actuality, seemed like the worst idea ever.

“Come on, you gotta get over this fear,” Shoko commented as you inched closer to the maze.

“I suggested the lowest rating haunted house!” you snapped, glaring at the dark-haired beauty nuzzling Utahime.

Before you popped a vessel in your forehead, an arm snaked over your shoulder, pulling you into their side. “Oh, come on!” Yuki whispered, pressing her glossy lips to your cheek. “It can't be that bad.”

Cut to twenty minutes later, Yuki shoved you out of the way, abandoning you as a masked man chased her towards one of the exits. You sputtered and squealed, grabbing onto Shoko, who was jumping at every scare the slaughterhouse-themed maze had to offer you. This was the worst idea she’s ever had!

“Look, we'll be fine!” Shoko’s words did nothing for you and Utahime, who clung to you. “We’re going to be okay!”

Chainsaws reeved around you, the smell of gasoline nauseating as you struggled to see in the darkness of the room. Shoko was right—you guys were going to be fine! Everything was going to be okay. A creaking door sounded from behind you three, and slowly, you all turned, meeting two masked men. One of them was wearing a black wolf mask and wielding a prop machete. The other wore a white wolf mask, holding a chainsaw.

The three of you froze, all looking at the men before the white-masked man reached the chainsaw, heat and the smell of gas resonating from him. Your mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as you struggled to scream. But Utahime managed to scream loud enough for the three of you.

“Heh~ you cryin’?” The white wolf asked, stepping forward. The black wolf stepped closer, closing in on you.

In a snap, the two meant charged at you, the white wolf focusing on Shoko and Autahime, chasing them down the corridor as the black wolf chased you. You tripped but regained your balance, rushing forward and looking for places to hide to escape! But it was hard to think with the thundering footsteps behind you, accompanied by the whooshing of the fake but very real-looking machete aimed at you.

You rushed into a room designed to look like a morgue, slamming the door shut, only to have a booted foot stop the door. The man entered, looming over you, a smirk tugging at his lips as you backed up against a wall. Fuck this was crazy! This felt too real, even though you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

You needed to get out of this! And what was the phrase, flattery gets you everywhere in life?! It's time to put that to the test!

“Oooh, my god!” you said, trying to come off more cheery than you were feeling.“Y-You're so tall! And h-hot!” That had your stalker freezing, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “Yeah, so hot, totally my type!”

The initial shock wore off, and your wolf stepped closer and closer until he dropped the machete, slamming his hands against the wall and making you squeak in shock. The heat of his body radiated off of him, warming your skin as he leaned in close to your neck, growling, sending shivers down your spine.

And they weren’t shivers of fear or anxiety; they were the good kind of shivers as he did the same thing to the other side of your neck. This was another one of the reasons you had been so hesitant about going to a haunted house like this. You were so into masked men it wasn’t even funny. You read loads of books and fantasized about it. If you had a partner, you’d ask them to chase you around your apartment. There was just something primal about it that turned you on. You wanted to be a prey; this wolf seemed to sense that.

“S-Sooo hot!” You cooed before whimpering as he growled into your ear. “D-Do you work out?”

“Yeah.” He answered. “I get to chase pretty little sheep like you.” He pulled back, staring into your eyes. Violet iris’ glimmering in the low lighting of your room.

Being called a sheep didn’t bother you and wasn’t why you were speechless. It was the sound of his voice, once that you knew and loved, but it was mainly the eyes. Violet eyes you had fallen in love with when you were in middle school. While you had been so memorized by the familiar eyes, the wolf had a chance to look at you.

He recognized you in the lighting. You were the girl he regretted not keeping in touch with when he moved to Tokyo. Without much thinking, Suguru pulled back, staring down at you.

��Princess?” He asked hesitantly before you snapped your gaze up to him. It was the nickname Geto often called you.

“Suguru?” You asked, winning a grin as Suguru reached up, taking his mask off. Revealing the man that haunted your dreams, the one that got away: “Oh my god!” You laughed, looking him up and down. “Hi!”

Suguru chuckled, grinning as he placed his mask on a table. “Hi yourself.” He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. “God, it’s been so long!” You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him back just as hard.

“Holy shit, you look good!” He did; his hair was pulled back in a bun, he’d gotten taller, and he was even more handsome.

“I could say the same about you. He whispered, brushing some hair out of your face. “I never would have expected to see you here. I thought haunted houses weren’t your thing.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pushed yourself off the wall. “They aren’t, but I decided to get over my fear.” Suguru hummed, grinning at you, taking in the curves of your body and admiring how you had grown up. “So you’re an actor.”

“Yeah, just seasonally, I was sort of talked into it.” He eyed you up and down. “Fuck I am, so glad to see you.”

“Oh really? Do you think about me often?” You both were inseparable in middle school before he moved away. He was your first love; in a way, he always had been.

Suguru nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course I do; you’re the one that got away.” He didn’t even regret saying that because it was true. You were the girl that got away.

“Oh, r-really?” You flushed at his comment, feeling the same way. You both had dated others, but no one ever brought out the spark in you as Geto did. “I guess I feel the same.”

There was a burning desire in both of you. I need to rekindle the flames that once burned brightly for you both. Ones that you wanted to reignite. Suguru grinned, biting his bottom lip.

“Well, since you feel the same way, what are you doing after this? I get off in the next thirty minutes. Would it be okay if I took you—”

“Suguru, where are you?! We got fresh meat heading our way!” Another familiar voice roared with laughter; you could practically see the smug smile on his face.

“Fuck was the white wolf Satoru?!”

“Uhm yeah, he’s the one thag talked me into doing this gig with him.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s that pretty princess of yours was with the last group! I scared the fuck out of Shoko and Utahime! I bet you got you childhood sweetheart good too!”

Fear settled in your stomach like spoiled food, making your stomach churn at the idea of the Gojo Satoru chasing you with a fucking chainsaw. “H-He’s uh, he’s really into this, isn’t he?”

You whispered in fear as Geto shifted nervously. Due to the height difference, your head was shoved into his chest. You were hit with a musky and earthy smell—one that reminded you of warm spring days in middle school before he moved away before you lost contact. You smiled softly, not minding him pressing against you. His being this close allowed the toy to inhale deeper, taking in his scent. This was Geto Suguru's scent, and you loved it.

“Yeah, he gets a little too into it.” Geto pressed further into you close, readjusting his legs, causing you to hum happily. “Huh?” Violet eyes looked down, and Geto just noticed how close he was to you. “Oh crap.” Geto reached between your bodies, lifting your chin to look at him. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

You mindlessly stared up at him. Finding him looking back at you, swallowing hard as he clenched his jaw tight. You just smiled before nodding as he shifted again. But as he did, his elbow brushed against the curve of your breast as he attempted to find a more comfortable position for the both of you.

“Y-Yeah. Are you okay?” You finally mustered the courage to ask as he shifted again.

The veins in his neck throbbed as he cleared his throat. Fuck he was a goddamn actor! He should be able to play it cool. “Yeah, I just don’t want to suffocate you.” he whispered, a slightly seductive tone in his voice, “Are you sure you’re okay? This isn’t too weird for you, is it?”

“Mhmm, I’m perfect right now, just like this.” His body tensed as he stared into your beautiful eyes. Fuck you were so pretty, prettier than he remembered. Suguru mindlessly stared as his arms slid down the top of your shoulders, resting on your upper arm.

Both of you stayed like that, panting softly, not from the adrenaline of running through this haunted house or the prospect of being caught. It was the tension, longing, and years of lust. Geto Suguru had been your lead actor in your masturbation sessions for years, and you were the VIP member of his jerk-off material. All those nights alone, pleasing yourselves to the idea of each other finally came to a head. The desire was too hot and real to deny.

“Fuck it,” Suguru growled, losing his control as he slammed his lips against yours.

Your eyes went wide but slowly closed as you kissed back. It started slow and sweet, his lips slowly grazing against yours. Before it turned into more, his thumbs gently rubbed your bicep as your lips moved feverishly together. Suguru slowly pulled away, breathing heavily as you opened your eyes, looking up into pools of violet. He didn’t say anything, but from the look in his eyes, it was as if he was asking if kissing you was okay.

“Suguru,” you whispered, standing on your tiptoes, kissing him a second time, and giving him the okay to continue. His hands reached down farther, grabbing you by the wrists, pulling them above your head, and pinning them there with one hand. His mouth moved against yours, taking your bottom lip between his lips and nibbling it softly. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue access. His tongue slid between your lips and began exploring your mouth with it.

His jean knee-clad pushed your legs apart, resting there between your legs and hovering just below your throbbing core. You lost yourself in the temptation, slowly rocking your hips against his knee, desperate for some sort of friction. Taking the hint, Geto, his free hand, slowly trails down the sides of your body. His thumbs grazing the curve to breasts, his hands move down the curve of your body. Your fingers twitched, wanting to reach up and grab handfuls of his hair as you deepened the kiss. His free hand grabbed your hips, rocking you against his denim-covered leg, giving you the friction you desired.

The longer you kissed, the more intense things came between you. His fingers dug into your hips so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave bruises, but you didn’t give a damn. The heat was pooling between your legs, your panties wet as Geto’s clothed erection was pressing into your thigh.

“Suguru,” you panted as he finally broke the kiss. His hands moved up the curve of your body, finding the slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Weren't expecting his were you? Coming here to get scared but meeting me again after all these years?” He growled in your ear, pushing his hand further up your shirt. “Tell me, are you one of those girls that get off by masked men? Is that another reason you came?” You pulled away, giving him room to slip further up your shirt, trailing up over your stomach.

“If I said yes, what would happen? Would you think lowly of me? Or did I happen to run into just the right guy?”

“Ooh~ Princess, I’m gonna make all your fantasies come true.”

His warm hand finally reached your breasts. Making you gasp, arching into his touch as he squeezed your breast in his large hand. You tilted your head back, allowing Geto to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck. All the while, his hand kneaded at your breasts.

It was a hundred times hotter in this haunted maze that smelt like latex and gasoline mixed with fog machines. But you didn't mind, thanks to the minty musk of Suguru. His hands and mouth were on you, distracting you. Fuck you were soaking wet and desperate to feel all of him. You reached between your bodies and palmed his erection through his jeans, drawing out a growl that vibrated against your neck.

“Fuck Princess,” he whispered, lifting you by your ass, “you’re making it hard to control me.” he groaned, rocking against you softly, his erection now pressing against your clothed center.

“I-I don’t want you to control yourself, Suguru,” you gasped, unbuttoning his jeans.

Just before you could, the door to the area you were in was kicked open, and a chainsaw reeved. “I know you're hiding!” Gojo Satoru reeved the chainsaw again, making you seize up. Not wanting this to end, Sughrh hissed through his teeth. His hand gripping your wrist fell, grabbing a handle to the metal locker you were pressed against. Suguru pushed you inside, causing the two of you to stumble into a locker closet.

Once inside, Geto kicked the door shut with his booted foot before he slammed you into the back of the almost too-cramped locker. You winced slightly before pressing your lips on his, shoving your tongue in his mouth as he unbuttoned your jeans, sliding his hand inside it. A needy gasp filled his mouth as his finger began rubbing fast, hard circles around your clit. You bucked your hips into his chest as he slid his hand further down, shoving two fingers inside of you, pushing the thick fabric of your panties in as well.

It felt so good, but it left you needing even more. Sliding your hands further down his well-built chest, you returned the favor unbuttoning his jeans, sliding your hand inside, and stroking his cock. Suguru pulled away from your mouth, gasping softly, resting his forehead against yours, moaning slightly, thrusting into your hand. His dark hair fell over his shoulder as they both moaned softly against each other's mouths as you both worked on each other.

“Princess,” Geto whispered, your nickname coming out of his name, “Fuck that feels so good.”

“I need you, Geto; you have no idea how bad I need you.” You pleaded, watching as violet eyes stared at you. It looked like he was hesitating, not wanting you to feel obligated to go further. You moved quickly, placing your pointer finger over his slightly swollen lips, “If I weren’t sure about this, I wouldn’t be asking. Are you okay with this?” He nodded, placing you on the ground just long enough to rid yourself of your jeans and maroon lace panties.

Your heart pounded as you leaned against the wall, watching Geto reach into his back pocket to pull his wallet out. You swallowed hard as he took a condom out, tearing it open with his teeth. His jeans and boxers were the next to go as you pushed down slightly just below his ass. Allowing his erection to spring free.

“Princess,” he whispered, rolling on the condom before lifting you and pinning you against the cool metal of the locker. “Princess, I’ve wanted this for so long. Are you sure you want this?” He asked, his erection pressing ever so slightly against your slick opening, “If you want to take things slow, we can--” You grabbed a handful of his raven hair, tugging it and forcing him to look at you.

“Geto Suguru, shut up and fuck me.” You slammed your lips on his. He moaned into your mouth, sliding inside of you. You whimpered into his mouth as his cock filled you, stretching your pussy. God, he felt a hundred times better than you imagined.

Geto moaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he slowly began thrusting inside of you. He groaned, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin of your neck as his cock moved in and out of you. You moaned, rocking your hips slightly to meet his thrusts, trying to find the perfect rhythm. An action that had Suguru tightening his grip on your hips, holding them still.

“Princess asked me to fuck ‘you,’ remember?” He growled, nipping at your earlobe. He thrust deeper, causing you to inhale sharply in pleasure, “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Geto ensured you didn’t move; he did all the work. Spoiling you like the Princess you were to him. His thrusts were deep and fast inside of you. His cock hits your g-spot with every push. All while his lips moved against yours, swallowing every moan you offered as pleasure flooded your body. His movements and the thrill that you could be caught brought you closer and closer to your orgasm.

All that you could hear in the locker was Geto’s grunts and growls of pleasure. You managed to whisper things such as ‘right there,’ ‘faster,’ and ‘Suguru.’ You completely forgot you were in a haunted maze. More concerned with the familiar burning and tightening in your lower abdomen. You were close to your orgasm, and Geto could tell from the way you were clamping down on him.

“That’s right,” he whispered huskily in your ear, “cum for me, Princess cum for me.” You inhaled sharply as he slid one of his hands between your bodies, rubbing your clit. Each stroke of his fingers across your bundle of nerves shook you as you heard an announcement that the maze would close soon.

“S-Sugu—!”

“You can cum when I get to one, understand?” you shook violently, holding off on the pleasure before nodding. “Five,” You wrapped your legs tighter against Geto’s waist, “Four,” his thrusts picked up in speed, making you dig your nails into Geto’s back, “three,” Suguru pressed down harder your clit, rubbing faster, “two,” you threw your head back as he thrust hard right against your g-spot while rubbing your clit, “one.”

“Suguru!” You screamed as you came, not giving a fuck about who heard you. Feeling your convulsing walls left Suguru grunting as he picked up speed fucking you through your orgasm before reaching his own, growling as he came. The two of you panted, resting against the wall.

After a minute or two, Geto pulled his head back, grinning at you. He kissed your lips gently, slowly placing you on the floor and steadying you as you regained your footing. You kissed back gently, quickly gathering your clothes and sliding your jeans on, while Geto pulled the condom off, tying it up before opening the locker and tossing it in a trash can.

“Fuckin hell, that was so good” You picked your panties up as Geto pulled and buckled his pants up, “I wanted that for so long.”

“Yeah, me too.” He slipped his wolf mask back on, adjusting it. “What do you say we go out for drinks after this? Then maybe dinner on Friday?”

“Oh, that sounds great.” You were so excited, but a chill ran down your spine as he picked up his prop machete, holding it in one hand and smacking it menacingly into the palm of his other hand. “U-Ummm-what are you doing?”

He stepped closer with a dark chuckle. “Finishing my shift.” as if he wasn't stalking towards you.

“Let’s talk about this! I thought we were good! You don't have to chase me! I know it’s you!” You threw your panties at his masked face, which he caught with ease. He stared at the flimsy maroon fabric before giving it a sniff. It was a perverted action that left you eager for another round. But as he slipped them into the back pocket of his jeans. His lips pulled back, revealing his teeth. “S-Suguru!”

A combination of fear, excitement, and adrenaline rushed through every nerve in your body as he stepped towards you. You didn’t want to talk about this. You wanted him to chase you, and the man himself knew that.

“Run little sheep.”

He didn’t need to say another word. You whirled around, nearly tripping over your footing as he began stalking towards you. Maybe haunted mazes weren’t as bad as you thought. Especially seeing that this one, in particular, brought you back one guy you could never get over. Paving the road to a very long and very happy life together. Even if he was going to scare the shit out of you tonight, he was an actor. After all, this was his job.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part four.

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you begin to get a better idea of just how deeply damaged john truly is & he stakes a claim to you. · tags: breastfeeding kink · tw: possessiveness · word count: 2,618

You sip on your iced coffee, typing away on your laptop, near to completing your essay for one of your classes, which is due in two days.

“God, he’s so hot. I don’t get why you don’t think so,” Emma says.

You glance up to her from over your laptop screen with a raised brow, watching as she stares down at her cellphone with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Huh?”

She looks at you, then raises her phone, showing you a recent livestream of John. No, Homelander.

No, John. You hate his moniker.

He smiles charmingly at a reporter, who speaks into her microphone with an excited look on her face. “I’m here speaking to the one and only Homelander, who just—with the aid of his fellow supe, A-Train—saved a family of three from a near-fatal car accident.”

She holds the microphone toward him. “Can you tell us what happened here, Homelander?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at the obnoxious name.

“Yeah, me and my buddy and fellow supe, A-Train,” he nods to the smiling man at his side who waves to the camera. “Were just doing some patrols of the area—just something we try to do every now and again across the state to keep our people safe,” he says with a shrug.

“When we saw the driver over there,” he continues, pointing to a man standing near a blue sedan. “Run a red light here at the intersection. Just—” He purses his lips, shaking his head. “Carelessness.”

He sighs, continuing on. “But, thankfully, A-Train and I were able to step in and rush the injured parties: a mom, dad, and their sweet little girl, to the nearest hospital. I mean, to wait for an ambulance…there’s no telling what might’ve happened. What precious lives might’ve been lost.”

The camera pans back to the reporter. “What would we ever do without you—either of you? We are all so lucky to have heros like the two of you—like the Seven—saving and protecting America every day.”

The camera returns to John who shakes his head, waving his hand. “No, it’s the people of this great nation who are the real heros. We’re just here to do our jobs and use the gifts God gave us to protect and save our fellow man.”

“And save them you did,” the reporter replies, continuing on before Emma locks her phone, looking at you, resting her chin atop both her fists.

“I want him so bad,” she mumbles with a smile.

You grin, shaking your head—sweating nervously.

She’s loved the man for as long as you can remember. Used to have a poster of him—ok, multiple posters—stuck to her bedrooms walls growing up. And she’s seen all of his movies probably an unhealthy amount of times.

If she had any idea that he’d had his head shoved between your thighs just a few nights ago—that you know his real name, his childhood story—the real one—that you’ve had him in your bed, crying in your arms, sitting at your dining table as the two of you eat together…that he’s called himself ‘your man’ more than once now… You’re pretty sure she’d pop a blood vessel, grill you relentlessly on everything, and then never forgive you.

You tell her everything, but this…you can’t.

Honestly, you wonder if she’d even believe you if you tried, anyway.

“What do you think he’s like in bed?”

Your head shoots up. “What?”

She grins. “Not like you want to know how many times I’ve thought about it, but…he’s like the American Dream, right? I mean, he’s definitely my American wet dream.”

You snort.

She continues. “So do you think he’s vanilla, then? Only missionary? Or…oh, I bet he loves creampies. He seems like he could be the type to have a breeding kink. Nuclear family and all.”

You lay your head down. “I don’t want to know.”

You know he’s incredibly good at oral, if nothing else. And he’s a boob man. He’d spent the entire night with his face resting between both of yours.

And he really loves to cuddle. He’d held you like a human-sized teddy bear all night. But, you suppose it makes sense: being desperate for affection. Every time you’d thought today about what he’d told you last night, your heart had broken all over again. You’d actually had to hide yourself away in a restroom today between classes just to cry.

Maybe your period is going to start soon…

God, who would’ve thought in a million years that you would feel sorry for Homelander? But you don’t see him as that now. Not when you’re alone together. Now he’s just…John.

Honestly, in a million years you would’ve never imagined letting him into your bed. Holding him. Calling him baby. Or sweetheart…

“Just guess,” she insists.

You groan in irritation, raising your head. “Maybe he’s a boob man.”

She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling, thinking for a moment before looking back to you while nodding. “Yeah, I can see that.”

You shake your head while smiling. “I have to get this paper done.”

You don’t bother keeping your balcony doors closed this evening. Not while you’re up and idly watching TV, at least.

Watch, you think, the one night you leave them open—as a reluctant invitation—will be the night he finally decides he’s grown bored of coming here and he never returns.

You’re entirely okay with that possibility.

You’d do anything to pass him off onto Emma. Then again…no, you wouldn’t. You most certainly don’t like the idea of him doing to her what he did just a couple nights ago to you on your kitchen counter.

But, she also wouldn’t have even thought about fighting back like you had. She would’ve been completely willing.

You wonder if that would’ve made him all the more angry. Maybe that’s the part that turns him on the most—resistance; a fight.

You jolt when you hear a soft thump to your left. You, begrudgingly, turn your head in that direction, met with the sight of the one and only Captain Asshole.

You feel guilty after thinking that, though. Especially after last night.

He’s just…emotionally stunted. And you’re not even sure at what specific age. Maybe there isn’t a particular one, because for his entire adolescent life…he’d been locked in that room with no one and nothing to interact with.

Tears sting your eyes.

He steps over the threshold, and you merely gaze up at him.

You’re not offering to willingly make him dinner like some trained pet. Not that you feel like it to begin with. You’ve already eaten. He can fly down to the local McDonald’s and pick up a Big Mac if he’s hungry.

Fly down.

He can fly.

What an insane thing to be able to do.

But also fantastical and amazing.

You wish you could do that.

He slips off his boots, setting them beside the door, before padding over, seating himself heavily beside you.

You flip the channel to some trivia game-show then.

“You ever seen any of my movies?” He asks.

You roll your head to the side, staring at him. “What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, looking at the TV. “So, you’ve never had a favorite supe?”

You face forward again as well. “Not really, no.”

“Never had so much as a poster of me?”

You shake your head.

He smirks. “Maybe I should gift you a Homelander pack of panties.”

You look at him with a raised brow.

“Of course they sell those,” you say with a shake of your head.

He leans over you, sliding a hand up your thigh. “I could be with you all day long that way. Right between your legs.”

You shake your head yet again, but in disapproval. Even if your lip twitches in mild amusement.

He leans back again. “I’d like a glass of milk.”

You huff quietly—the playful moment clearly over—and stand.

Once you’ve given him his requested drink, he takes a brief sip, then speaks before you seat yourself once again.

“Well, you’ve gotten to see me undressed. I think we should make things even.”

You still—the hairs raising on the back of your neck—while you simply stand and stare at him.

“C’mon,” he says, motioning with his hand, taking another drink. “Strip.”

“You’ve already seen me without…bottoms—”

“So now I get to see the other half.”

The part of you he’s most interested in, he thinks.

You cross your arms, frowning, heartrate slowly beginning to climb.

His eyes go red and you jump slightly, arms falling to your sides in surprise.

Shades of blue return to you then, and he smiles sweetly, which serves only to make your stomach turn.

“I’m waiting.”

With trembling hands and stinging eyes, you grip the hem of your shirt, slowly tugging it up and over your head. You bunch it up, then hold it shyly against your middle.

“All of it,” he states, taking a long drink, licking his lips as he looks you over.

Your chin wobbles. “I don’t want—”

He sighs, leaning forward. “It’s just us. So slip it off, then climb into my lap.”

You waver.

“I’m not going to rape you. If I wanted you on your back with your legs spread, you would be.”

Not that it’s an unappealing idea to him.

You reach behind you, undoing your bra one clasp at a time. You slip it from your shoulders, tossing it onto the coffee table, then clasp your hands over your naked breasts.

He makes a beckoning motion with his index finger, so you step forward. Hesitantly.

“Straddle my lap.”

You swallow thickly, then do so, settling bent legs on either side of him, resting back on your calves.

He glances to your hands, then into your eyes with a raised brow.

You’d been right in what you’d told Emma that morning—your assumption about him having an appreciation for breasts—apparently.

You lower your arms, resting your hands in your lap, and he abruptly wraps his own around you, leaning forward, taking a nipple into his mouth.

Your eyes widen in shock, your body growing warm all over as he begins to gently suck, his eyes fluttering closed while he moans quietly in the back of his throat.

You, meanwhile, remain still and silent, unsure what the hell to do with yourself.

He releases your breast for a moment, taking a drink of milk, then immediately dives back in.

The TV plays softly in the background, so you choose to instead focus on mentally participating in answering trivial questions instead of…this.

Until he leans back, sliding a hand up your back, gripping your neck.

Your eyes meet his.

“Touch my head.”

You slide trembling hands atop his shoulders, lacing your fingers into his blond strands, and he returns his attentions to your chest.

You gently rub your fingertips against his scalp and he hums in contentment, taking another sip of milk, then sucking on your other breast.

It’s then that the metaphorical wheels begin to turn.

Constantly switching between taking drinks of milk and sucking on your breasts… Oh good lord, he has a breast-feeding kink, doesn’t he?

He just grows more and more interesting the more time you spend with him.

And then your heart breaks all over again.

What if it’s not, entirely, a kink? You know it’s at least half one with the feeling of his erection pressing against your shorts.

He never had a mother. Never had any form of maternal comfort growing up.

Showing up and asking—rather, demanding—dinner, your attention and approval, nearly threatening you last night after a moment of extreme vulnerability… He’d held you to his chest the entire night. Like a child does with a toy for comfort when attempting to sleep.

And now…he’s pretending to breast-feed.

You decide on another small experiment—he liked it the other night when you gave him affectionate touches—and begin to quietly hum a nursery rhyme.

This feels like some fucked-up psychological experiment: you trying to read him and gauge his reactions to this and that to get an exaction on his true nature. But, in reality, he doesn’t seem terribly hard to get at.

He goes to switch breasts again and you grow silent. Until he looks up at you, and tells you, “Keep singing.”

The two of you are lying in bed again with John’s head resting between your breasts as he takes even, steady breaths.

You run your fingers slowly through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

You’re nearly on the edge of it yourself when he stirs before leaning over you, slowly sliding his hand up your chest, then along your neck until his large, heavy palm comes to rest atop the soft, delicate skin.

He stares down at you, and you cup his cheek, brushing your thumb along it.

He smiles gently, tightening his hold, and you swallow nervously, your brows furrowing.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You belong to me now. Do you understand?”

Your eyes flit between his and your heart begins to hammer in fear.

“You understand me,” he continues. “Like no one else has ever bothered to. We’re together now. Got it?”

He can’t really mean it. Someone like him…he must be expected to carry on with who Vought and the press choose for him.

“We…we’ve known each other for four days, John. That’s not enough time to—to know how you feel—”

“It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t asking. You’re mine.”

He presses his lips to yours and a tear slips from the corner of your eye.

He lies back down then, snuggling close to you for comfort. “If I find out you’re seeing anyone else, you won’t like what happens to him. So, I suggest staying loyal. Not that anyone else could ever compare to me, anyway. I mean, you should be happy about this—that you’re the young woman I’ve chosen for myself. It makes you special. Being mine, that is. A rich superhero. The supe.”

He closes his eyes, softly smiling. “The greatest man in all of America—the world—and I’m all yours.”

He tightens his hold around you.

“Doesn’t that make you happy?” He asks with a flat, slightly-threatening tone.

Your fingers tremble against his scalp. “What about Maeve?”

He snorts. “She might be my equal—for the most part—but you have your own appeal. There’s nothing I can give her that she can’t already get on her own. Whereas you should be grateful I’ve spared you a second glance or thought. That I’ve let you get this close to me. I’m a gift, really. Come to add interest to your ordinary life.”

A narcissist is what you are, you think.

Does he think, by stressing how special and one-of-a-kind he is, that you’ll…what? Agree? See how blind you’ve been all these years to have shirked the prospect of idolizing him, and finally fall on your knees, beginning for his attention?

You already have it.

The roles are reversed here, in truth. He’s the one desperate to have yours.

You know you shouldn’t speak further, but you want to hear his response to you laying the truth plainly before him. “If I’m so ordinary and you’re so…extraordinary, why bother with me? What is my ‘appeal’, as you put it?”

He grows quiet, listening to your heart pounding in your chest.

Finally, he curls his fingertips inward against your back. “Go to sleep.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, terrified of him. Of what’s happening to you.

Dear God, why couldn’t you have skipped just one day of class? Or come halfway through the day instead?

Now… Now you would be paying for it until he chooses to call this sick game quits.

[vivalas-vega]

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

howdy y'all - we've got another rooster fic. i feel i've neglected this man too much on my blog and wanna start writing for him more so here we are with a fleet week fic inspired by my own journey onto a navy ship yesterday!!! (the similarities between my fic and the real deal start and end with waiting in line. my guide was cute but let's just say he was no bradley bradshaw). it was very cool and educational and if your city does fleet week i highly recommend checking it out! this fic will have maybe three parts total. anyways hope you enjoy :)

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

follow my taglist blog and turn on notifications to be updated @vegaslibrary

word count: 3.2k

warnings: slight language, naval inaccuracies!! (even tho I just did my own fleet week tour I still don't know shit, I'm just a girl)

The ocean breeze filtered through your hair as you stood off to the side, eyes fixated on the impressive carriers in front of you. The sun felt hot on your skin and excitement was buzzing through your veins as you listened to your best friend in your ear… well, half-listened.

“We’re brunching! Come on, meet us at Malibu Farm,” Maggie said and you sighed.

“I told you it’s Fleet Week, I’m already down here,” you replied and you could feel her eyes roll on the other side of the phone.

“I would be supportive if you were trying to bag one of those Navy hotties but come on… bottomless mimosas and all the dirt on Stephanie’s breakup are better than some boats,” she said.

“I will see you for drinks tonight,” was all you replied before hanging up. You’d tried (very unsuccessfully) to convince some of your friends to come with you, telling them about how cool these carriers were and how you only got the chance to see them up close and personal once a year but they had zero interest… you were the only one in your circle who found this sort of thing interesting, and you would have been bummed except for the fact that you were more than okay doing things by yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to a concert or a museum solo, you actually enjoyed it… you loved hanging out with your friends but it was nice to not be tied to what the majority of the group wanted to do (or didn’t want to do), and as you waited in line you were actually a little glad none of them had taken you up on your offer. If Maggie were here she’d be ogling the cute officer who appeared to be getting ready to take your group on board, and she’d spend the whole tour trying to flirt with him instead of listening to what he had to say. 

You were content to wait in line as long as it took, taking in the beautiful ships to your left before switching to people watching, you knew this week drew all kinds of visitors and you found it entertaining to see such an eclectic mix of people all in one space… there were the obvious ex-Navy types, returning to their roots and reliving the glory days, there were couples who looked a little out of their element but excited for something new to do as a date, and families with kids… you even spotted an entire elementary class on a field trip. Spare your friend group, most people were more than interested in the opportunity to spend a day aboard multi-million dollar vessels and you were one of them.

Across the way Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw was chatting with his teammates about how much they wanted today to be over… it wasn’t that he hated Fleet Week, because he did enjoy it for about the first hour, but after that it became tiresome to give the same spiel over and over and over. They’d all tried to get out of it, Natasha had even gone so far as trying to manifest a deployment, but according to the higher ups there was no excuse for the Navy’s best and brightest to not make an appearance at an event happening so close to their home base. 

But then he saw you and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you seem so enamored by everything around you… you didn’t hold an ounce of annoyance over the fact you’d been standing in that same spot going on half an hour now, something he’d seen from other visitors a dozen times already, and when a gust of wind kicked up your hair and sent it fluttering around your face you gave a half hearted attempt to tame it, but really you were just enjoying the breeze and the sun on your skin and he knew he had to know your name. He watched Jake getting ready to take your group aboard and he had to know if you’d abandon the formal tour in favor of letting him take you up instead.

You were eavesdropping on a conversation between a sailor and a kid just ahead of you, a soft smile on your lips as you listened to just how excited both parties were to be talking about the ship in front of you and you were so focused on them that you didn’t notice a person approaching you, not until his shadow cast across your face and when you turned you saw a man who nearly knocked the wind out of you… he was tall and solid, arms straining against the short sleeves of his khaki uniform and you thought that no one should look good in that color yet here he was proving you wrong. His golden brown waves glistened in the direct sunlight and he had a slight smirk beneath a mustache that you really wanted to hate, but you really didn’t… he was handsome, potentially one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen, and here he was standing directly in front of you and you looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am,” he introduced, extending his hand for you to shake which you did as you gave him your name and a smile. “What brings you out today?”

“A bizarre fascination with ships the size of planets,” you replied and he laughed. It was warm and a little rough around the edges, much like you’d appraised him to be in your short interaction, and you wanted to hear it again.

“Well, my day wrapped up not too long ago and I couldn’t help but notice you waiting for a tour…” he started, leaning in slightly with a mischievous look on his face as if he was about to tell you a secret, “and between you and me, your tour guide is a dud.” he finished and you looked towards the man, tall, blonde and oozing charisma and you had a feeling Bradley was lying to you as you watched him charm the entirety of your group with one sentence… but you weren’t feeling too keen on calling him out on his fib.

“Oh no, is that so?” you replied, disappointment lacing your tone.

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I think you oughta let me take you up, make sure you get the tour you deserve,” he propositioned and you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I think that might be for the best… for the sake of a thorough Navy education and all,” you said and he nodded, gesturing towards the ramp and he held out his hand for you to take as you pulled yourself onto the steep landing. His hand was warm in yours and all-encompassing as he held it and made sure you made it safely before letting it fall back to your side and you were almost a little disappointed when he did.

He led you into the cargo hold, a massive room filled with so many things your eyes had a hard time adjusting at first. You trailed alongside him as he explained everything to you, sparing no detail as he went and you were particularly fascinated by the boat that was rigged to be deployed at a moments notice, positioned right in front of a hatch door, and he told you it was primarily there for search and rescue missions as he rattled off information about how long it takes to get it down into the water and pointed out the crane used to move it around as needed.

You listened with rapt attention as you continued through, you added a quip or a question here and there but mostly you were hanging onto his every word as he pointed out things like their freezer and the gym, and you realized you might have been content to listen to this man read you his grocery list and you had to make a conscious effort to focus on the words themselves and not just the voice that was speaking them. As you made your way up a steep and narrow stairwell, so much so you might have described it closer to a ladder than stairs, he stayed right behind you where he could catch you if you fell and you tried to ignore the fact that his diligence almost made you want to fall.

“There’s a lot up here,” he said as he led you down a hallway lined with doors, “but it’s mostly just bunks and offices. We’re not technically supposed to show you this, but… I won’t tell if you won’t,” he added as he pushed one of the doors open and you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key as you peeked inside, taking in the modest living quarters with multiple twin beds.

“So, this is where you sleep when you’re deployed?” you asked and he nodded, brow furrowing when you looked at him, clearly skeptical about something as your eyes trailed him top to bottom before returning to the beds in front of you, “how do you even fit?” you followed up and immediately you flushed, not meaning to ask that at all but it was the first thing that popped into your head and it flew out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Not comfortably, sweetheart,” he replied with a laugh and you smiled softly at the term of endearment as he shut the door and nodded for you to follow. He talked about the photos lining the walls, telling you who was who or what was what in the ones he recognized before you went up another stairwell and before you could walk through the door frame in front of you he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned your head to look at him, an unasked question on your face, and he gave you that addictive smirk of his, “now this is the really fun part that very few people get to see,” he prefaced and you felt anticipation brimming as he kept his hands on you and guided you forward.

“Just breaking all the rules today aren’t you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you replied and he wanted to tell you that you could just call him Bradley but one look at the mischief in your eyes told him you knew that… you just liked calling him Lieutenant and he liked hearing it too much to stop you. When you turned your attention forward you were faced with two beautiful jets right in front of you and you faltered for a moment, stunned by the sheer impressiveness of the aircrafts.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, careful of your step as you approached one of them and Bradley tried to commit that look of awe on your features to memory, his heart stuttering at the sight. You instinctively reached a hand out before snapping it back, realizing you probably shouldn’t be touching things with price tags you couldn’t comprehend.

He chuckled, “go ahead, it’s mine so do your worst.” 

He thought you might get whiplash with how quickly you turned to face him, “yours? How have we made it through this whole tour without you mentioning you’re a pilot?”

“Thought I’d keep you on your toes,” he replied as you returned your focus to his jet, hand trailing along the smooth metal as you walked around it.

“I never thought I’d get to see an F/A-18 in person… at least not one that’s active,” you sighed, and now he was certain his heart had stopped in his chest. “Tops out at what, twelve hundred?” you asked and he blinked in surprise, only able to nod in response because he didn’t quite trust his words right now. He knew he liked you as soon as he saw you, so much so he was taking you on his tenth tour of the day when all he’d wanted to do previously was go to the bar, but now he was worried he was in a little over his head as you appreciated his jet, having identified it immediately without any help from him. “God, this is incredible, Bradley,” you said, maybe a little breathless from how excited you were and before you knew it he was disappearing, leaving you standing at the nose with a confused expression.

You laughed when he returned, rolling a ladder to the side of his jet and beckoning you over. He hadn’t anticipated you to know anything about planes, or really have any interest beyond the first minute of being in front of it, but now that he knew otherwise he wanted to show you everything. He held onto your hand as you took each step, trailing right behind you just as he had in the stairwells and when you got to the landing he started pulling the canopy back and you let out another soft gasp.

“Can you get in trouble for this?” you asked, turning to look at him. You knew private tours with high ranking pilots were not standard for Fleet Week, and you also knew this wasn’t an area most people would be allowed in, and you worried for a brief moment what would happen to him if anyone caught you.

He shook his head, “you’re accompanied by a Lieutenant, we’re fine,” he answered, smiling as you leaned over slightly to look inside his cockpit and his heart was thudding in his chest at the sheer wonder in your eyes. He started pointing out all of the controls, telling you what they did and why, and he answered your every question just as he had with the rest of the ship. “Sweetheart, I’ve gotta be honest… I’ve never met anyone who gave a damn about these jets that didn't work in or around them already.” 

You pulled your attention back to him with an incredulous look, “how could they not?” you asked, and you wanted to keep your gaze on those pretty brown eyes that were locked on you, but the novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet and you looked back inside the jet. “I mean… this is next level engineering wrapped up in a pretty package, what’s better than that?” He thought you were beautiful when he saw you standing on your own with your hair blowing in the breeze and the sun kissing your skin, he thought you were beautiful when you laughed at his dumb jokes in the cargo hold, but right now he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you slightly bent over and leaning into his cockpit as you truly appreciated the one thing he loved most in this world.

“Please let me take you on a date,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself and you looked at him a little surprised. You’d been hoping since he approached you that he’d ask, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the unexpected timing.

“Ask me again after the tour,” you replied with a smirk and though it vaguely sounded like rejection he couldn’t help but smile. If you wanted to make him work for it then he absolutely would. You asked him a question about the gauges and he told you exactly what they measured, and when you finally made your way back down the ladder he even let you sit on the second to last step as he wheeled it back to its place.

“Bradley!” you squealed when he whipped it around, hands bracing on the poles on either side of you and you were a little breathless when you were suddenly facing him, looking up at him as his strong hands gripped just above your head as he continued pushing you through the open area.

“Just wanted a better view,” he replied and you flushed at the compliment. Even though it was only two steps he still offered you his hand as you got off and of course you still accepted it, lingering for a moment before dropping it. He took you back through the carrier a different way than you’d came so he could show you absolutely everything, still narrating as he went. Truthfully, there wasn’t much difference on this route than the other but it was longer and he wanted to drag this out. He knew as soon as you stepped off the ship he wouldn’t have any reason to keep you longer than he already had, and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as he could. 

When you entered the now familiar cargo hold you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, you didn’t want your time with Bradley to come to an end but it seemed it was inevitable as he led you down the ramp and back onto solid ground. Your eyes were bright when you turned to face him and you still had that smile on that hadn’t seemed to leave your face all day and it was another sight he wanted to commit to memory. You had surprised the hell out of him, turned his boring day around the second he saw you and he knew with certainty he couldn’t get enough of you… and you were in the exact same boat. You knew when you got here today you’d have a good time, that the other man Bradley insisted was a dud still would have given a good tour and you’d have gotten exactly what you came for but the man in front of you exceeded every one of your expectations and then some, and you weren’t looking forward to the moment you had to go back to your car and not have his eyes on you anymore.

“Bradley, that was…” you sighed, “that was incredible, I don’t really know how to thank you for that.”

“Let me take you out,” he replied easily and you flushed, the tour was over and he was wasting no time in asking you out again, and this time you let him. 

You nodded, “I’m free tonight.” His grin was wide as he fished his phone out of his pocket for you to input your number, and you couldn’t help but mirror him when he told you to put your address as well so he could pick you up… if this was anyone else, if you hadn’t just spent the afternoon with him catering to your every query and whim, you would have told him no. You would have said you could meet him somewhere, but you trusted him. The few hours spent together showed you that you could, and that wasn’t lost on Bradley. If you’d said no he wouldn’t have even blinked, he would have suggested something else that made you more comfortable, but you didn’t say no… and that caused his chest to tighten as he looked down at your beautiful smile.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and you felt your skin tingling as he pulled away. “Wear something comfortable.”

You nodded, a little curious as to what he could have planned but you could just tell if you asked he wouldn’t say, and you were more than happy to let this man surprise you. “I’ll see you tonight, Bradley.”

“And I’ll be counting down every second.”

[maddie-grove]

I have a popular post about how I don’t enjoy it when love stories act like it would undermine the central romance if one or both of the protagonists had a positive experience with an ex or former sexual partner, and I just want to say: it’s really all about the framing.

It’s totally chill if a protagonist has never been in love before, for whatever reason. Maybe they have intimacy issues, or they were literally raised by wolves in the Canadian wilderness, or they’re too busy, or they were a child oblate, or they just never clicked with anyone that way, or they were married to a grotesquely evil Renaissance nobleman. If we’re supposed to be like “awww that’s nice, they are experiencing romantic love for the first time” or “I am so happy that something nice is happening to this girl after her experiences with the horrible duke,” that’s cool.

It’s also fine, in my book, if a protagonist has never had really good sex before. Not everyone has an easy time getting into it and, to be frank, not everyone has the good luck to encounter a considerate or generous lover immediately after becoming sexually active.

Here are some examples where I do think there are problems:

The historical romance author wants to establish that the hero is not a virgin, but she doesn’t want to make him a player and she doesn’t want to give him a bad ex as a source of angst and she doesn’t want him to have been in love before. So she gives him a long-term paid mistress. But, instead of going with “Adrian enjoyed Lily’s company and thought she was pretty/clever/pleasant, but obviously it was a business relationship on both sides,” you get something like “Adrian had never felt anything for Lily. She was merely a vessel for his manly needs.” And it’s like you knew this woman for years! Yet I have warmer feelings towards the friendly lady who works at the pharmacy! What’s wrong with you?

The Regency heroine was happily married to one dude, who died tragically young. She falls in love with her late husband’s best friend, also her friend, who has been in love with her since before the husband died but he never acted on it because it would have been wrong and hurtful to his friend. They both feel a little weird/guilty about getting together, but it’s clear that they aren’t actually disrespecting the late husband’s memory and he’d probably be happy for them if he knew. This is all good and fine, until the hero and heroine are making love and the heroine muses to herself that the hero is better in bed than her late husband. This honestly wouldn’t feel so sour if it had been established at the beginning that they never clicked sexually despite loving each other, but in that moment it feels like a cheap shot at a nice dead guy. And for what? So the audience has no doubt that the hero is the best sex man in the world?

Someone writes a fanfic where Character A has a non-endgame romance with Character C, when eventually Character A will end up with Character B. The A/C romance is obviously not going to last for well-established reasons, but it’s sweet and C is presented sympathetically. Until the author abruptly makes C a bitch in a non-canonical way when it’s time for them to break up, even though that’s far from the most natural way for the breakup to happen.

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

“no purity”

❤︎ synopsis — he’s such a tease… always egging you on and irritating you. so now, he’ll just prove his point to you over and over again

pairing: vessel x afab!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: first sleep token fic! this was done per the request of my lovely friend @dead-end-fanfiction , the ask will be linked here. enjoy~

cw: nsfw content. gender neutral pronouns for the reader. thigh riding. lots of teasing from vessel. slight dirty talk. degradation.

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“you’re tense, darling,”

“shut up, i know i am,”

how did they find themself in this situation again?

y/n was currently perched up on vessel’s thigh, staring down at him with a mixture of both irritation and anticipation. their breath was haste, dripping with an unknown sense of desire as they stared down the dark, mysterious man, who only wore a pearly white grin underneath his mask.

they were both in vessel’s office. he was leaned back against his red, velvety chair, the fabric brushing against vessel’s bare thighs. he looked cozy, despite the rather sexual situation he was in with the person who’s thighs were straddling his leg.

vessel just let out a chuckle, amused by the predicament they both found themselves in.

“well?” he started out, his voice feigning innocence underneath his knowing smirk. “you gonna start moving or what?”

they could only scowl at the masked man, not appreciating how smug he was being. “with that attitude, i won’t be moving at all.” y/n hissed out with narrow eyes, but that only seemed to amuse this eccentric deity.

“oh, honey… you’re the one that started this, remember?” vessel reminded, his tone velvety smooth with cockiness laced into his mannerisms. “i can sit here all day, and not do a single thing… just watching you drip your wetness all over my thigh,”

y/n was about to retort back, but they bit their tongue. as much as they wanted deny it, vessel was right; they did start this. but it wasn’t even intentional!

they just wanted to ask vessel a question. one. simple. question. but of course, the dark figure had to pull one of his wild cards, irritating y/n and prompting them to challenge vessel.

and that challenge? well, it was a battle of self control.

stripped completely of their pants, with nothing but their shirt on, vessel followed suit, and the two of them were just staring at each other, lust clearly clouding their eyes. sheet music was scattered all over the floor because of how haste vessel had gotten with putting y/n in this position, but he didn’t care.

especially when he got to tease them like this.

“look at you… so turned on just from sitting on my thigh,” the entity mocked with a provocative tease.

vessel’s voice was slickly sweet, a hint of mischief was in his tone. he was amused; amused at how easy it was to get y/n going. they were soaking wet all over his thigh, so much so that it was shimmering in the dimly lit room.

y/n could only roll their eyes at vessel’s words, their nails digging into his shoulders a little more. “you’re one to talk about being turned on, especially when your little friend over there seems to be having a bit of a problem.”

they nudged their knee in between vessel’s legs, brushing it against his clothed, hardened erection. he let out a rather loud groan from the contact, and vessel just chuckled lustfully.

“little? you wound me, dearie. it’s not little at all.” vessel spoke with a smug tone, a smirk evident on his face. “quite the opposite, actually.”

“shut up. we’re not gonna start talking about your dick.” y/n quickly shot down, blushing when they realized what vessel’s words entailed.

“awh look at that! you’re already blushing at the thought of me being too big and thick for you to handle.” he practically cackled out, relishing in the embarrassed emotions y/n was feeling.

they could only scoff and whip their head to look away from vessel. y/n didn’t have any sort of witty comment to get back at vessel.

they hated that he was so right too.

“now then… how about we get on track again, eh?” he spoke so smoothly, but his voice had so much arrogance to it. y/n gritted their teeth upon hearing this, but they just couldn’t be mad at him, not when they were being so intimate like this.

“you’re so goddamn annoying.”

“sure i am, but you love it. that’s why you’re so goddamn wet all over me.”

y/n really wanted to wipe that smirk off of vessel’s face, but they couldn’t bring themselves to. going back and forth with vessel has only gotten them more worked up, and they haven’t even done anything to relieve themself of this aching sensation that pooled in their stomach.

and vessel definitely took notice of this.

gripping their hips more tightly, vessel’s brazen and calloused fingers dug into the sides of y/n’s hips. he bounced his knee upwards teasingly to send jolts of pleasure up y/n’s body, making them whine out loud.

“fuck!” they moaned loudly, digging their nails into vessel’s shoulders.

“ahh… there we are, there’s the little slut talking.” he chided with a smirk, knowing the power he has over y/n.

it didn’t help that the friction only caused y/n to become even more wet. they could feel their leaking juices trickle down their inner thigh and onto vessel’s skin. and through it all, vessel still just emitted a cocky and sexy aura that made y/n just want to ruin their cunt all over his thigh.

it was so humiliating, but it turned them on so fucking much.

“i won’t repeat myself, darling.” vessel spoke with a taunting, almost threatening tone that was shrouded in promiscuous desire. “start grinding that pretty pussy on me, or i’ll make you move myself.”

his words were vulgar, but his words and the way he delivered them had so much power to them it drive y/n crazy.

y/n didn’t even think twice before they slowly started moving their hips in an up and down rhythm, keeping their pace slow. it felt like time had stopped for them specifically, just a little world where vessel and y/n could let their desires spill.

y/n rutted their puffy cunt all over vessel’s thigh, smearing his ashy skin with their juices. that feeling of doing all the work to get themselves off while vessel just sat there watching, it was enough to make y/n whimper from both frustration and arousal.

“g-god fucking dammit … mmmmh…” they managed to rasp out, and vessel groaned in response.

“that’s it… move your hips just like that..” vessel growled out, his nails digging crescent-shaped marks into y/n’s hips.

he guided their hips along his bare thigh, keeping his hands tight on y/n’s body as they were grinding up and down on his leg. the way they were moving just turned vessel on even more, the sight was so hot.

“ahh.. would ya look at that? you’re moving like a fucking pornstar.” vessel spat out, his voice still holding that lustrous tone that kept y/n whining and grinding on his leg.

“where’d you learn to do that, eh? you sleepin’ around with the other band members or what?” his voice was sharp, and a bit cruel. he just kept on speaking. “going around like the bitch in heat you are, getting other mens’ dicks wet for your dripping wet cunt? such a fucking slut… you’d do anything to get yourself off, won’t you?”

but those words just encouraged y/n to keep riding vessel’s thigh like no tomorrow, their movements speeding up slightly. they didn’t even bother to respond to vessel’s humiliating words.

vessel took notice of this immediately, and let out a lustful scoff, bouncing his leg up again to make y/n moan loudly. “mmmh.. not talking now, huh? that’s fine…”

he lifted them up slightly, and changed the angle to which y/n was riding his thigh, making it more pleasurable for their nether regions.

“just keep riding my thigh and prove to me what a little slut you are.”

and ride they did. y/n was moving their hips in such an erotic and frantic rhythm, it caused both parties to moan and groan from the feeling. that’s all they could think of; up, down. up down.

y/n hated how easily vessel got to them, how his words could turn them from a prissy, almost bratty little spitfire, to a mess of nothing but lust, desire and frustration.

but it always had them yearning for more. and damn did they love it.

as they continued to spread their juices all over vessel, their frantic movements were slowly pushing them closer to orgasm, that blissful climax they’ve been craving all this time.

“v-vessel… i’m so close..” y/n mewled out, and vessel was savoring that sound and feeling.

“oh.. you want to cum? does this whore want to cum all over me?” vessel questioned with that cruel, teasing voice.

he gripped their hips tightly and forced them down on his leg more, causing them to cry out in pleasure. “say it. say that you want it,”

“i-i want to cum! i want to cum all over your thigh! all over myself like the whore i am!” y/n practically screamed, getting desperate for a release.

vessel was satisfied to hear that; and so he guided their hips more across his leg to aid them to a climax. “that’s it… that’s the slut i love so much… now cum. cum all over the place.”

it seemed that his words were on command, because y/n’s hips spasmed wildly and their threw their head over vessel’s shoulder, crying out loudly in pleasure as they came all over his leg.

warm liquid trickled down their inner thighs and all over vessel’s leg, their essence coating his leg white. y/n breathed heavily to catch their breath, and vessel just chuckled and patted their head reassuringly.

“good little pet.” is all he said, a smile can be heard from his tone of voice.

after a bit of time of calming down, y/n caught their breath and attempted to get up from vessel’s leg, but his strong hands forced them to straddle his leg again, making them whine.

“vessel…?” y/n questioned with a slightly dazed tone, but the dark entity just chuckled.

“oh no… i’m not done with you yet, sweetie.” vessel whispered. he moved his hands to unbuckle the belt on the loops of his pants, sagging the clothing down. y/n looked down with wide eyes, watching vessel’s hardened cock spring free.

but he only chuckled knowingly. this was going to be a long night.

“i hope you’re ready for round two, baby, because it’s going to just get better from here.”

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[wilbursprincess]

Arranged Marriage With Princebur

Princebur x Reader

Warnings: Sex, mentions of sex, angsty towards the end :D

Hi Tumblr. I wrote this as a ‘crack fic’ (mostly just self indulgent) but was so proud I figured you all deserved it too :) If you’ve read parts 1-4 of my Princebur headcannons, then this is familiar, but if not, you’re in for a treat! This is very loosely inspired from one of my favorite books of all time, ‘The Giver Of Stars’ by Jojo Moyes.

Fic below cut!

When my parents sat me down one day, I knew the news couldn’t be good.

The king and queen of my country were getting older, and all the newspapers were talking about their son, Wilbur, soon to take over the throne, wondering who would be his bride. I’d seen him, a black-and-white photo adorning these articles, and secretly felt sorry for whoever he’d be forced to marry. The royal family was big on arranged marriages. How else would they get more heirs to the throne?

“We’re going to the castle for tea,” my mother explained briskly. “The queen was aware you’re her son’s age, and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupt, gaining a sharp glare from my father. “You want to marry me off to a prince?”

My father smiles, though it’s far from warm. “Well, hopefully, if they take liking to you.”

“Have you considered I don’t want to be forced into a loveless marriage, just to be a vessel for heirs to the throne?” I say, both my parents’ gazes turning stony.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother snapped. “It’s a great honor to marry into the royal family. Wilbur’s a good man. Handsome, even.”

Sure. Wilbur’s handsome, if you like the snobby prince look.

“Go get ready,” my father adds, getting up from the table. “Wear your nicest dress, and try and do something with your hair. It looks like you rolled around in a barn.”

~

“It’s so lovely to meet you,” the queen simpered, giving me a watery smile. “You look lovely. Just like a future princess should.”

Lovely?

The corset my mother cinched me into was so tight, I couldn’t take a deep breath in, a trickle of sweat running down my back. My best shoes hadn’t been worn in over a year, and they were slightly too small, with a blister already forming on my heel. The heavy makeup caked on my cheeks and eyelashes felt thick. Maybe this was why all the royals looked miserable all the time.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, forcing a smile when my mother nudges me under the table. “These cakes are delicious.” That wasn’t a lie, however, my father had stopped me from taking more than one. Probably on the grounds that it wasn’t ‘ladylike’.

The queen forces another smile. “Our cooks here are very talented, dear. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger when you marry Wilbur. They’ll wait on you hand and foot.”

I force my face into what I hope is an impressed expression.

I might complain about the chores at home, but I’d be bored silly without them. What would I do, just sit around all day? And wait, wait, did she say ‘when’?

“Did you say, ‘when’ she marries Wilbur?” My father says, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

The king nods. “We did. Your daughter is exactly what we’re looking for in a bride for our son. She has lovely composure, perfect manners, and we can tell Wilbur’s already taken a liking to her.”

I sneak a glance over at Wilbur, who gives me the tiniest smile. Begrudgingly, I had to admit he was vaguely handsome. Sharp jawline, refined features, slightly messy brunette curls, and sparkling deep brown eyes.

Maybe this won’t be too bad.

“They’ll make such perfect babies,” my mother adds, the queen nodding her agreement. Snatching my eyes away from Wilbur, I pick up my now-lukewarm tea to hide my embarrassment.

Nevermind.

“So it’s agreed?” My father asks.

The king smiles. “It’s agreed. We’ll get to wedding planning right away. Everyone loves a good royal wedding. It’ll bring the country together.”

~

I’d never seen such a ridiculous waste of money before. The newspapers were eating up any tidbit they could about the wedding, and all the headlines made me groan.

‘Wilbur’s bride-to-be rumored to walk down the aisle in a pure silk gown!’

‘The royal family reported to be buying the future princess an entire wardrobe of velvet and silk, complete with jewlery to match!’

‘Royal wedding to be decorated with thousands of roses!’

I did my best to avoid looking at the bold headlines on the papers that piled up on my kitchen table.

My parents were over the moon, helping me pack up my belongings in preparation for moving into the castle. Or, rather, they were deciding which of my belongings belonged in the castle.

“Why would you bring such an old dress? They’ll just buy you a new one.”

“Those shoes are dreadful. A princess should only be seen in heels!”

In the end, I ended up with just a suitcase of clothes, shoes, and the occasional personal belonging my parents let slide.

My mother decided to teach me all about how to raise children, complete with handing me a satchel of all my old baby clothes and teaching me how to pin a cloth diaper on an old teddy bear. She also had to give me ‘the talk’ about how I’d go about having these babies, which left me horrified.

“Don’t give me that look,” she snapped. “It’s natural. It’s how you were made.”

My father took it as his responsibility to teach me about royal etiquette. He’d once worked as a servant, and had decided it was up to him to drill everything into my head.

“No! Head up, shoulders back, heel-toe walking.”

“You sip tea with your pinky finger out! And stop slouching!’

Honestly, if they were sending me off to work on a farm, I’d be more excited.

~

“You may now kiss the bride!”

I force myself to stay calm as Wilbur’s rough lips brush mine, and the entire church errupts in cheers and applause. It was sealed. I was now a princess.

Wilbur offers me his arm, and I take it, letting him lead us back down the velvet-covered aisle. I force myself to relax and smile, waving elegantly to the people in the pews, just as my mother drilled into me.

He helps me into the shiny new carriage, drawn by two shiny white horses, flicking their braided tails. More velvet on the inside of the carriage, all the metal features pure gold.

“Is ‘congratulations’ appropriate?” Wilbur says, breaking the very tense silence.

I shift against the seat uncomfortably, the lace edges of my gloves chafing my skin. “I think so.”

“Well, then, congratulations,” he adds, slightly awkwardly. “And sorry.”

He’s sorry?

“What are you sorry for?” I ask, finally looking him in the eyes.

Wilbur sighs. “You didn’t ask for this. Neither of us did, actually, but you especially.”

The heavy silence is even worse when the entire country seems to be cheering us on.

“I promise I’m not that bad,” I offer, and Wilbur cracks a smile.

Neither of us speak for the rest of the ride, and when we arrive at the castle, two men dressed to the nines open the doors. I go to hop out, but Wilbur gently stops me.

“I’m supposed to help you,” he whispers softly.

Luckily, the photographers didn’t seem to catch my slip up, and I accept Wilbur’s hand to step out onto the grounds of my new home. My heels are hurting my feet, and I’m exhausted, but I fix a smile on my face and walk through the grand front doors.

~

“Well, happy wedding night, darling,” the queen says, kissing both my cheeks with a flourish and handing me a paper-wrapped package. “Just something to make tonight better for you both.”

I accept with a smile, trying not to think about what the package is, before turning and heading up the main staircase to Wilbur and I’s new bedroom.

Wilbur’s not in the room when I walk in, so I flop into the middle of the bed and cautiously unwrap the package. Something small and silky slips onto the sheets, and I unfurl the bundle to see a baby-pink, silk nightgown, the deep neckline and hem lined with lace. I hold it up to my body, seeing it barely reaches my knees.

The door opens, and I drop the nightgown, turning around to see Wilbur carrying in a massive amount of packages.

“Wedding gifts,” he explains, setting them down next to another huge pile I didn’t notice earlier. “Mother wants us to open them before we go to bed. And I have a suspicion-” he indicates a lot of tiny parcels. “-that I know what these are.”

Wilbur tosses them all to me, grabbing several himself before joining me on the bed to unwrap them.

“It’s shoes for you,” he says, handing me a pair of dainty red heels. “What’s in that one?”

I rip open the package and sigh. “A hat for a baby.”

He nods, opening the next one. “Some jewelery for you.”

“Baby shoes and socks.”

“An evening gown.”

“A baby blanket.”

“Some cufflinks.”

“Baby clothes.”

Wilbur gently stops me before I reach for the next one. “I’m detecting a theme.”

“Me too,” I sigh, showing him the nightgown. “Your mother gave me this.”

His dark eyes widen. “Thats…” he trails off, swallowing. “A nightgown.”

“Uh, yea,” I reply. “It’s a nightgown.”

Another awkward silence.

“Look,” Wilbur says, starting to gather up the gifts. “It’s been a long day, and we’ve still got something to do before we can get some sleep. I’ll clean up here, you go get ready, ok?”

Something to d- oh. That.

I nod, grabbing the nightgown and scrambling for our bathroom.

~

The nightgown is certainly… something.

It seemed far too inappropriate a gift from my now-mother-in-law, as I look at myself in the mirror. Everything is covered, sure. Just barely.

The lace scoops dangerously low in the front, raising dangerously high at the back, and is so thin, it leaves nothing to the imagination.

Now I see what she meant.

There’s a sharp tap on the door. “You ok in there?” Wilbur asks. “You, uh, ready for bed?”

“Yea, I’m good,” I lie. “Just, uh, putting on the nightgown.”

A solid 5 seconds of silence.

“Can I see?” Wilbur’s voice comes out a lot more desperate than either of us was expecting. “I mean, if it’s ok with you-”

When I open the door, his eyes widen, taking in every single inch of silk, lace, and skin. “You…” Wilbur trails off, eyes everwhere but my face. “It’s definitely a nightgown.”

My face burns. “It is.”

“You go get comfortable, and I’ll, uh, get ready.” He says, trying to sound casual.

The bathroom door shuts behind him, and I get into our new bed. The only upside is that our bed is massive, so it’s not like I’ll be spooning the guy every night.

I blink open my eyes as the bathroom door opens, and my new husband walks out in nothing but a pair of striped silk pajama pants, sitting low on his hips. He gets into bed next to me, hesitantly setting a hand on my thigh.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Wilbur murmurs, a caring note in his voice I hadn’t heard before. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

I feel a new but welcome warmth blooming in my chest, both from the pet name and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. “I’m ready.”

~

Imagining what would happen on the wedding night, and actually doing it, were two different things. Two very different things.

I expected him to do what he needed to do pretty quickly, roll over, and we’d both go to sleep. Something I’d just lie there through.

Oh God, was I wrong.

There was something otherworldly about our two bodies becoming one, so strange, but so welcomed. It made heat pool between my thighs, pleasure bubbling up between our entwined bodies.

I couldn’t tell if Wilbur was enjoying it, but the noises he was making… soft groans and whines. They were like music to my ears, adding to the tightening in my core, something I’d never felt before, but I never wanted it to end.

The spiral low in my stomach kept tightening, ecstasy running over my body as he kept rutting into me, tightening until it snapped. And when it snapped, radiating out from the apex of my thighs, it was like I was on cloud nine, floating in the clouds, far above the castle, the country, and the planet.

I’d barely recovered from the wave of pleasure that slammed into me when Wilbur lets out a loud moan, burying his face in my shoulder as I felt my inner thighs suddenly wet. The only sounds in the room were mine and Wilbur’s shaky breaths, trying to collect our composure once more.

“If that didn’t work,” Wilbur murmurs, panting. “Could we, uh, do it again?”

~

I’ve been living in the castle, married to my husband, and a princess for a month now. I still wasn’t quite used to it. Gone were the days I pitched in around the house and could come and go when I pleased. Now, I sat around in a castle, wearing lace, silk, and velvet dresses that made me feel frumpy. All there was to do was sit in the library and read. I’d loose myself in leather-bound tales, about far-off and imaginary lands, trying to wish myself to live between the worn pages instead of here.

“I’ve washed your nightgown for you, ma’am,” one of our housekeepers says to me, dropping off a loud of laundry in our room, thankfully interrupting the conversation the queen was trying to have with Wilbur and I. “I couldn’t quite get the menstrual blood out of it, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no issue,” I reply, face burning as I take the neatly folded pile, avoiding the gaze I’m sure the queen was giving me. “Thank you.”

The queen shakes her head, continuing knitting something that looked, suspiciously like a hat for a baby. “It’s ok, dear,” she says, forcing kindness into her voice. “Maybe next month Wilbur will do his job.”

Wilbur snorts into his tea, making his mother give him a very stern look. We make eye contact over the rim of the mug, warmth blooming in my chest.

He’s on my side.

“That hat looks nice,” I say to hopefully break the awkward silence.

The queen grimaces. “It’s a sweater for a newborn,” she says briskly, making Wilbur hide his laughter with a pretend coughing fit. “Wilbur, are you ill? Why are you coughing.”

“I’m fine, mother,” he lies, gulping down the rest of his tea. “Why don’t you head down to the sitting room and let me and my wife spend some time together?”

She immediately brightens up. “Oh, yes, of course,” she says, packing up her knitting and giving me a wink. “Good luck, you two.”

The second the door shuts behind her, Wilbur groans, burying his face in his hands. “Does she only care about you as some sort of baby-vessel?”

I sigh, wringing one of my carefully-folded dresses in my hands. “I think so.”

Awkwardly, Wilbur leans over, carefully putting a loose arm around my shoulders. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think of you like that.”

Blinking up at him, I feel a heat spread through my face. “Thank you, Wilbur.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “So the… blood, it means you’re not pregnant, right?”

I nod. Wilbur’s face, inexplicably, breaks out in a grin.

“That’s good news?” I question, and he nods. “But, your parents-”

He shrugs dismissively. “Look, I had about as much of a choice as you did. Just because I have royalty in my blood, it doesn’t mean I like it.”

“You don’t like being a prince?” I reply, shocked. “Whenever I see you in the papers, you seem to like this life.”

Wilbur laughs, shaking his head. “That’s called ‘acting’, darling.” The pet name makes my face flush, though it’s not unwelcomed. “And now I’ve somehow dragged you into this mess.”

“At least we’re both equally unhappy?” I offer. “I promise I won’t mention this to anyone else. We can get through this.” I hesitate before adding the last word. “Together.”

Nodding, Wilbur brushes his lips against my cheek. “Together.”

~

“Wilbur, are you alright?” I ask, walking into our room a few nights later to see my husband sitting on the edge of our bed, looking pensive. “What happened?”

He sighs, patting the blanket as an invite for me to sit. “Mother’s been complaining to the staff about not getting her grandchildren yet. Apparently, she got pregnant with me the night she married my father, and saying I’m not living up to the family legacy.”

“Oh.” As much as I hate myself for it, my core tightens deliciously at the thought of Wilbur and I’s wedding night. “I’m sorry. I… parents.” I awkwardly finish.

“Parents,” he agrees. “So, uh, if you’re down, do you want to, y’know, try again?”

I nod immediately, a little embarrassed by how eager I look. “Sure.”

Wilbur awkwardly chews on his lower lip. “Did you… enjoy it? Last time?”

“I did.” I whisper. “Did you?”

He kicks his toe against the plush rug our bed sits on. “More than I should admit,” he murmurs. “I’ve read a lot of books in my years in this castle, so naturally, I’ve read about… that. If my parents knew I found those books, they’d be horrified.”

Surprisingly, I hear myself giggle. “Why would they be horrified about you reading about how to give them grandchildren?”

“Because those books don’t exactly see it as something for having babies. They see it as something to bring you closer to your partner, something that feels good.”

We’re both silent for a few moments.

“So, since you want to do it again…” Wilbur continues. “I know how to make it better for you. Do you still want to?”

I find myself nodding before the words even leave his mouth, reaching down to pull off my top. I’m left just in my bra and skirt, Wilbur’s eyes running all over my exposed skin.

“Can I take your bra off?” He whispers, cupping my breasts through the fabric. Even the hint of his touch makes my stomach tighten, and I nod.

His hand reaches around to my back, struggling with the clasp for a good few seconds before it pops open. Eyes wider than dinner plates, Wilbur rubs a thumb over my nipple until I groan.

“That’s good, right?” He asks anxiously.

“It’s good,” I reply, shimmying my skirt and tights down my thighs. “Do you want me to lie down, or-“

Wilbur nods, pulling off his shirt and reaching for the zipper on his pants. Just the motion of unzipping his pants makes the apex of my thighs throb.

When I look up again from taking off the rest of my clothes, he’s fully naked, chest heaving. I’d never seen him like this, and it’s not unwelcome.

“Tell me if this hurts, ok?” Wilbur whispers, tracing up my thigh and fumbling around a little before finding a spot that makes me gasp. His long fingers circle around and rub the little nub, the pleasure so intense my legs go weak.

“Oh my,” I manage to gasp out, that lovely tightening in my core getting stronger. “Please… don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, speeding up his touches and looking slightly smug at my blissed-out expression.

My hand grasps at his wrist so I can rub against his fingers, the ever-tightening spiral threatening to snap…

…And it snaps.

I close my eyes tight as I let out a long, low moan, hips bucking up against Wilbur’s hand as I ride it out, floating up in the clouds again.

“Safe to say that felt good?” Wilbur’s voice brings me back down to earth, and I’m disappointed when he pulls his hand back. “It’s going to get even better, I promise.”

While I’m still wondering how on earth he managed to do that to me with just his fingers, I feel him pushing himself inside me, everything so much more sensitive this time, and it’s wonderful. We groan in unison, his face buried in my shoulder.

“Can I move now?” Wilbur asks.

“Please,” I reply, wrapping my legs around his waist to steady myself. This lets him push in even deeper, putting pressure on the spot he’d been touching earlier.

Wilbur’s a lot less gentle this time, and a lot more vocal. A lot. Our hips snap together, and I let myself move with him instead of laying still.

“So good,” he murmurs in my ear, breath hitching. “So good, sweetheart.”

I wasn’t expecting another moment on cloud 9 for the second time in one night, but when the familiar feeling builds up again, I practically feel like I’m floating. It’s different than earlier, deeper and more intense, but just as welcome.

The second high is just as intense as the first, my back arching as I ride it out. Wilbur’s not far behind me, sighing as I feel my bare stomach suddenly wet.

“Sorry, I kind of…” he trails off awkwardly, grabbing his shirt off the mattress and wiping up the mess. “This is awkward.”

“You’re good,” I murmur sleepily, absolutely exhausted from the night’s activities.

Surprisingly, Wilbur cleans both of us up, climbing into bed and pulling me into his chest to cuddle.

“This ok?” He asks, and I sleepily nod.

He drifts off to sleep, but I stay awake, wondering why exactly my arranged husband could make me feel things like this.

~

Life keeps dragging along. Wilbur seems more distant and secretive, hiding envelopes in his pillowcase and burning letters before anyone else can see them. My mother-in-law keeps insisting I join her for tea every afternoon, which essentially means being extremely nosy and overbearing for an hour or two, drilling me on everything from how I carry myself in public to her ever-lack of grandchildren. My dresses keep disappearing after I hand them to the staff to wash, Wilbur blaming it on his mother.

One evening, I walk into our bedroom to see Wilbur in his warmest coat, a suitcase open on the bed, and two envelopes sitting next to it on the bedspread.

“I’m getting you out,” Wilbur says, smiling at me with indifferent eyes. “I’ve packed you some casual dresses and shoes, stuff nobody will notice missing. There’s money in that envelope, and a letter to my friend. He lives over the border on a farm, and he’ll find a place for you.”

I expect to feel a wash of relief, getting my life back, but no. All I feel is a tugging at my heart, a pang of sadness.

“You’ve got 10 minutes. Grab anything else you need, and I’ll take you as far as the border,” Wilbur continues, avoiding my eyes. “I’ll sneak downstairs and wrap up some food for you.”

While he’s gone, I quickly glance around, slipping the books on my nightstand into the suitcase. Wilbur’s done a good job packing my things, leaving behind the gaudy dresses and tasteless jewlery, slipping in my most-worn dresses and comfiest shoes. I change out of my nightgown and slippers, packing them and slipping on a warm dress, boots, and my heaviest coat. Fat snowflakes were falling from the sky, a chilling wind rattling the windows of the castle. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“Here,” Wilbur whispers, making me jump and turn around. “I couldn’t get much, but there’s some bread and apples. It’s better than nothing.”

He closes the suitcase, grabbing the woolen cap off his head and pulling it over mine. “Wrap this around your shoulders,” he tells me, handing me the thick blanket off our bed. “If we leave now, you’ll be out of the country by daybreak.”

I do as he tells me, nestling into the blanket as he wraps a heavy scarf around my face. “Grab your suitcase, and we’re leaving.”

I watch, dumbfounded, as Wilbur pulls open the window and leaps onto the steep shingled roof. “I’ll help you,” he promises, taking my suitcase and my hand so I can climb out. I lean up to shut the window.

There’s no going back now.

~

We walk all night in the frigid, unrelenting wind. My face, hands, and feet are numb, and I can’t recall ever being this cold before.

His friend hasn’t arrived at the meeting spot yet, so we settle into the shelter of a massive holly bush to try and rest our weary legs. Wilbur takes off his coat, placing it over my lap, and wraps me in his arms. Finally, I let myself cry, the hot, salty tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re ok,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on me. “Once you leave the country and forget about the past months, you’ll be ok. Your life is just beginning.”

All I can do is nod, continuing to sob into his chest. I couldn’t even begin to verbalise that the tears weren’t for our country or my old life, they were for him.

The time we spend in the shelter of the holly bush feels like an eternity. Just as the sun gives hints at appearing over the horizon, we hear the bumping of a cart, the snorting of a horse, and I know it’s time to go.

Wilbur loads my suitcase onto the cart, settling me down in the scratchy hay and nestling blankets around me. “I’ll be back,” he whispers.

I hear him and his friend exchanging a few words, the envelope being handed over, and Wilbur’s footsteps coming back towards me. To say goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Wilbur, ok?” I say, trying to hold back the tears running down my cheeks. “What wil your parents say?”

“That doesn’t matter. Please, forgive me,” he begs. “Forget everything we did, forget the past months. I’m giving you your life back.”

He wipes away the endless flood of tears, kisses me on the cheek, and steps off the wagon. His jacket is still over my lap, and I press my face into it, his familiar smell washing over me.

The reins snap, the horse and cart rattling down the cobbled road, heading away. Away from my home, away from the castle, and away from Wilbur. Ahead? Whatever lay over the border. I had food in my suitcase and more money than I’d seen in my life. I’d find a way.

My eyes close, Wilbur’s face swimming over my closed lids, and I force the image away.

~

“Wait!”

I snap my head up as the cart rattles to a halt.

“Please, wait!”

It was Wilbur’s voice.

Dumbfounded, I watch as he comes running up the road, not slowing down until he reaches the cart, practically leaping into the hay and wrapping his arms around me.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he sobs. “Please let me come with you. I’ll leave my country, leave my chance at the throne, whatever it takes to stay with you. I love you.” His face is pressed against mine, slick with both our tears.

“Don’t leave me again,” I manage to say through my tears. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I never will,” Wilbur promises. “I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

The cart continues to make its way down the road, every step taking us closer to our new life. Our new home.

~

Wilbur and I’s new life is everything I’d ever dreamed of.

Once we made it across the border, we moved into a tiny cottage in the middle of the woods on a couple acres of farmland. Wilbur ended up sneaking my most valuable jewels into the bottom of my suitcase, which we promptly sold to afford some things for our house.

Coming from a life of luxury, being waited on hand and foot, to living on our own in a one-room cottage was a shock, to say the least. Wilbur really stepped up, teaching himself to cook and clean so the housework wouldn’t all fall on me. With the money from the jewelry, we bought a bed, kitchen table, two chairs, and some linens. It was all we had, and all we needed.

I taught myself to farm fruit and vegetables, as well as bake bread and make jams out of our harvests. Wilbur bought a cow, thinking we could get a decent amount of meat from her, but got too attached and ended up naming her Daisy.

“It’s a real farm now,” he said proudly, stroking Daisy’s forehead. “But doesn’t she look a little lonely?”

The next addition to our farm was a chicken coop, laying us plenty of eggs for breakfast. At Wilbur’s suggestion, I bought some flour and sugar, and used some of the butter I made from Daisy’s milk and eggs from the coop to start baking bread and cakes.

I went to the market every week, selling my homemade bread, cakes, and jam, which brought in a significant amount of money. For now, our family was complete…

…Until Wilbur showed up one morning with a skinny stray dog, looking very proud of himself.

“She can guard the farm for us,” he announced, scratching her behind the ears. “She can eat scraps, too.”

Princess, as she came to be known, did not end up guarding the farm or eating scraps. She slept in Wilbur and I’s bed each night, licking the pan clean from dinner or chowing down on scrambled eggs that Wilbur made for her.

“This certainly beats the castle,” I murmured to Wilbur one night as we lay in bed, Princess fast asleep between us as the fireplace crackles.

He leans in to kiss my forehead. “It does. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Congratulations on hitting over 5k followers, you deserve them all and so much more! I got so excited when I realised you're taking requests for short drabbles so I was thinking along the lines of a meet the parents sort of situation with Captain MacTavish. Maybe they're both on the same team or whatever and are now engaged but Soap still hasn't had the time to officially introduce her to the family so he does so when they're both on leave and she's just the complete opposite to him but they just fit (like a puzzle piece) and the family notices and absolutely adores it. Bonus Points if Soap is just completely whipped (cause he totally would be)

—I Can See It In Your Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

Blue eyes watch silently as you speak to his father, an easy and honest smile on your lips. John blinks at the ring on your finger as you move your hand in a display of the story you were telling—the OP in Brazil, John thinks he overheard minutes earlier—a matching band to his that had been there only a single month now. You both only ever wore them on leave, otherwise, they were stuck to the chain of your dog tags; hidden away until they could be brought back to life once more. 

Truthfully, this had been a long time coming. 

“She’s lively,” his mother comments, and John hums, bringing the beer in his hand up to his lips for a tiny sip from where he rests against the far wall. “Your father likes her, no doubt. Never seen him smile that much at any of the ones from the younger years.”

“Those weren’t serious,” John scoffs, scar over his eye pulling as he spares his Mum a glance through a smirk. “If they were, it’d be different, eh?”

“No,” the woman grabs at his ear, pulling it as he flinches and hides a snap of his teeth at her. “A mother can tell. They weren’t good for you—didn’t make you watch ‘em like that, least.”

A reddish sheen comes to the Scot’s cheeks, avoiding the digging smugness of his matriarch as he shifts his legs.

“Stop doin’ that, Woman,” John grumbles. 

“You’re doin’ it to yourself, ya little devil.” Growling, the mighty Captain out in the field is brought low easily by his mum’s own intelligence—but it wasn’t a secret. Everyone in the family could see how he looked at you, how when you spoke, his head snapped over to hear the sound of your voice like it was a call from sea and he a vessel lost to the curtain of mist. 

Even now, amid a conversation, those blue eyes couldn’t help but move back as you and his aging father bent over in laughter—a small flicker on John’s lips that usually held a cold smirk or nothing at all. 

His mum hums to him, watching you.

“I like ‘er.” 

“Good, else this might have been awkward.” He pushes out casually, one arm going to cross his chest to rest on his shirt collar. “There’s always eloping, aye?” 

Before his mother can grab at his ear again, you call out, and, like the dog he is, John’s head swivels and his expression settles down easily. 

“John, come and tell your part from Brazil! I only have my half, and I always forget the piece from—”

“From the time I catch the HVT on to the time the spider bit my fuckin’ arse, yeah, Bonnie, I know.” He smirks, waltzing over to the chair you sit in, and firmly moves you over with a grab at your arm. You hum in confusion, but it’s not long before John takes your seat and drags you atop his lap. Blinking quickly, you humph and look down at him with a raised brow. 

“We’re at your parents’, John,” your face is heated, voice hushed as you slap at his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Holdin’ my future wife, Dearie, isn’t it obvious?” The man’s lips twitch. “Ah, it’s fine. Settle back and let me speak now, eh?” 

You fake glare, rolling your eyes, but your legs shift nonetheless to a more comfortable position as John’s mum and dad share a soft look with one another. They really couldn’t have asked for a better match—you evened out his hard slyness, the wrinkles on his forehead, and the age that lies under John’s beard. And in turn, you seemed to beam and be about as easy a person to get along with as any. 

Even from the rare letters that the two would get, they had known you were something special because you’d been mentioned in the first place. John rarely told of his work, even less so about people. 

As John gets on with his side of the humorous and mostly dumbed-down tale of one of your shared operations together, they see you watch him; take in every word. The smile that peels your lips as you shake your head and say, ‘I never tripped, MacTavish, get that out of your head. You made that up—he made that up.’

“I didn’t,” John huffs, glaring at you. “You went down and got covered head t’ foot in mud, then I told you to get your arse in gear and ya cursed at me like a sailor.”

“Bullshit,” you raise your brows, pointing into his face. “You’re losing it!”

“Oh, we’ve been past that bend a long time ago, Bonnie, c’mon now.” 

The parents watch on, smiling.

[inlandempir]

post on one of the dev forums for disco elysium, titled "THE BENEFITS OF A MODERN FANTASY WORLD". text version beneath the cut

There's been a lot of art and tech talk so far, it's all kinda dry or saccharine. I think it's time to juice it up by throwing in a proper essay.

THE BENEFITS OF A MODERN FANTASY WORLD

The world of No Truce! (we do have a proper name for it, but we’re shy) is not what you’d call “a generic genre world”. It is not pseudo-medieval stasis, as Forgotten Realms was, nor is it Fallout’s campy barbarism with guns. It is also not a Harry Potter/Batman/vampire fantasy world, which is basically “our world with a secret/special world within it”. Neither is it the tech-obsessed ‘punks’ of steam and cyber. It’s a modern fantasy world, a fantasy world in its modernity, which roughly corresponds to the middle part of our XXth century. Now that kind of thing opens up an array of new possibilities. It is a world with a promise of non-staticness, meaning, things appear undecided — they could go one way or the other. It is close enough to our own world for things to have meaning in it, it is a proper frame in which to explore themes relevant to our own society such as bigotry, power relations, politics, bureaucratic apparati, geopolitical relations, philosophy, ideology, religion et cetera. A pseudo-medieval world is not a proper frame for truly exploring themes of, for example, sexuality, for it lacks 1) a proper concept of sexuality, 2) an actual idea of societal progress and 3) a clear ideological dominant, which would be the place where values come from. All you can do in a static, societally unstructured world is give out-of-place shoutouts to present day communities for cheap popularity (“this is exactly my sexual orientation, how did they know?!”).

We find the ideological dominant missing because the western world is traditionally culturally critical of ideological dominants – critical of both state and religion. Anyhow, a classic fantasy world would feature two main ideologies – the “good” and the “evil”, of which the former is selfless and compassionate, but the other one is selfish and cruel. The attempts to overcome that have given us the Grittywelt – a world in which everyone is an asshole and pessimism rules the day. Unsurprisingly, Grittywelt is also static as hell and meaningful change is foreclosed from it. It is a “protection from false hopes”. As such, it is heavily unrealistic. Much more realistic would be people living in super gritty conditions, but not looking the part, that is, not really noticing the abnormal harshness of their conditions, because they don’t have much to compare them to, and being hopeful towards the next day, because surprise! This is how you do it. Survive, I mean. Being depressed is a luxury. In a way, I’d say we’re trying to create the obverse of the Grittywelt – a world in which everyone is empathizable, sort of a hero of their own story.

The modern era is also a fitting vessel for anachronisms – do we not have actual cyborg limbs and donkey-pulled carts operating in the same world at the modern era? Capitalism can also contain little feudalisms in a way, in which a single man or single family controls the entire economy of a town or a village and profits from it. And at the same time, it can also contain little socialist utopias, scientist villages, in which everything is provided by the State. Aside from being a basic feature of reality (anachronism is nothing more than time failing to fit the stereotype about it), it is also a lovable creative tool, allowing for a plethora of what-if-scenarios. Imagine a modern world, only without television; imagine a modern world in which there never was a global war, imagine a world in which fossil fuels are less available. Now, if you will, imagine one which has forgotten its antiquity, and one, in which there is not just water between the continents, but something worse as well — an anti-reality mass we call “pale” (also more on that later). Now imagine one, which has a legitimate and operative “religion of history” in place, which seeks for people it deems special enough to be the “vessel of progress”. (This is not an alternate history thing, by the way. An alternate history takes place in our world quite recognizably and has no more than one divergence point from history as it happened.)

One might ask, why would we not create an even more modern world, if we wanted to maximise our possibilities? Well one of the answers is that it would have destroyed the necessary element of escapism, another is that we cannot create a good alternate Information Era because we ourselves fail to understand the Information Era (More precicely, we have the information era in its infancy and it works via radio relays). We are too close to it and it is too new to understand it, it is “in progress”. The third reason would be that technology is not a fascinating subject for modern science fiction. It’s become a natural part of our reality. We don’t believe it’s going to save us anymore – it has failed to deliver for too long. I am of the belief that the themes of science fiction today are societal, political and psychological (one could maybe add aesthetical to it, for we also love the world for its beauty). All fantastic or sci-fi elements are means for best exploring those themes.

I have filled my page. That’s all for the time being. Thank you for reading.

Martin Luiga Writer

[damn-stark]

Chapter 4 Snow on the beach

Chapter 4 of Moonlight

A/N- last full Cregan chapter, now onto Aemond, let’s see if he can beat Lord Stark

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF!, Talks of blood and death, suggestive nfsw, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader, Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Before 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*127 AC*

“…we’re hoping for a girl, so if the gods are generous you will have that sister you always wanted, wouldn’t that be great?

Daemon also hopes for the babe to be a girl. He said maybe you could choose a name, would you like that? I think it’s a marvelous idea, please write your ideas.”

A girl? Your mother is hoping for a girl again?

Maybe it’s because you’re far away from her and you haven't seen her in four years, but the idea of her having another daughter besides you makes you feel bitter with jealousy.

Is that cruel to feel?

“Anyway, I’m glad you have made friends with Lady Arra, I hate the thought of you being alone so far away. Tell me is she kind? It’s okay to admit if she’s rude and a bitch—”

You snicker softly at your mother's words regardless of your previous feelings.

“—it’ll stay between us. But if you don’t feel comfortable telling your mother then tell your cousins or your brothers. They won’t tell, trust me, Jacaerys never wants to show me what you write to each other now, but, it makes me glad that you share a bond regardless of distance. I know he misses you as I do, my Sweet.

I love you so much.

Love always, your mother, Rhaenyra.”

You put the letter down on the desk and simply smile softly. You don’t cry anymore when you read her letters.

The first two years that's all you could do, cry as you read what your mother, grandmother, brothers, and even what your cousins wrote. You just longed to be by their side again, you missed them terribly. But when your rendezvous with Cregan changed to secret forbidden romantic nights, you stopped crying at night and when you read the letters from home.

Now albeit you feel like starting crying again. Is it stupid to feel jealous about her having another daughter? Is it foolish to feel like you’ll be replaced?

You’re so far away, and you’ll always be far away because of your marriage to Aemond, so having another daughter will cure that longing to have you with her. Having another daughter also means she’ll replace you because it’s a daughter shared with the man she’s in love with, not someone she married out of political gain, not someone who had different preferences. She’ll be the apple of your mother's eye, of their eye—

No! No, it’s stupid, you’re being stupid. Your mother loves you, she’ll never do such a terrible thing.

Albeit…before, when she was with Ser Harwin hoping for another girl you didn't fill you with jealousy then because at least you had your father; he wasn’t always available, but he was there, he loved you too. He’s gone now though, so if she does replace you you’ll have no one.

——

*4 FEW YEARS BACK*

“All right, now…” he trails off and glances around the ship, you follow his line of gaze to see what he’d point to, but he then turns around and points at something else completely. “…that. What do we call that and what’s its use?”

You squint your eyes on the large spar that extends forward from the ship's vessel prow and think back to what he and Ser Qarl have taught you whilst on your way to Dragonstone.

Out of all the things you’ve learned, it takes time to come up with the answer right away, but it then comes to mind. “It’s the bowsprit!” You clap with excitement. “And it prevents the ship from…uh, being submerged in water when the waters are rough!”

“Yes!” Your father exclaims. “Yes! Good job.”

You skip forward and then speak to Ser Qarl. “I’ve thought of a scenario, all right, Ser Qarl.”

Said man leans his arm against a barrel and scoffs in amusement before he softly throws his chin up to gesture you to share what he asked of you a while ago. Something you thought of with a lot of precaution.

“I’m on deck, and then whoa, I get attacked,” you tell him as you clasp your hands back and walk towards the quarter-deck. “Pirates are coming on the ship, my crew is getting hurt, so then I run forward, use my blade to cut the main yard, and swing across the deck to save them, and myself.” You finish proudly and spin around to face both men with a smile. “Huh? Is that good?”

Ser Qarl and your father share a glance and break into a chuckle, making your smile falter. They think it’s stupid, don’t they?

You knew it! It’s too dramatic and childish.

“That’s…” your father clears his throat and walks over to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “That’s a great plan, darling, well thought out.”

You look up at him with uncertainty and probe. “Really?”

He shoots you a grin and nods. “Yes, really.”

“You’ll make a fine sailor,” Ser Qarl compliments. “Probably one better than your father.”

You're quick to please so once again you can’t help but bring back your smile to your features.

“Yes,” your father agrees. “You will. You’ll make a legendary sailor.”

——

*NOW*

“See! That’s how you do it!” Cregan exclaims and flashes a smile as he admires how the arrow impales exactly at the center of the makeshift target. “Let’s see you best that.”

What if he wants to replace you, Prince Daemon?

He has daughters, but those are his own, what if for some reason he just wants to replace you?

Cregan calls your name, but you don't answer or look his way. Instead, you stay lost in your mind and think that it’s unbelievable that your mother would want to replace you. She loves you, all of you, in fact, she was often advised that she not be so affectionate towards any of you, especially towards your brothers, so she wouldn’t just replace you.

No?

Cregan calls for you again and this time touches your shoulder, snapping you from your messy thoughts raveld in your brain.

“Yes?” You query and meet his curious grey eyes.

Cregan blinks and then points at the target with his eyes. “It’s your turn darling,” he says and quickly looks back at you to study you.

Albeit before he catches anything, you pick up your bow and an arrow to then go stand where Cregan was. You exhale softly to try and forget what you were thinking of while you shift your feet and lift your arms. You get the arrow in position and get ready to shoot it, but hands then fall on your arms, making your breath catch and your gaze drift to the corner of your eyes to look at Cregan behind you.

“Relax your bow arm,” he advises softly as he holds your gaze the entire time.

You can’t help but smile and stare at his lips.

“You did hear me?” He asks.

You relax your bow arm like he said and nod.

“Just making sure. You’re not looking at me in the eyes,” he teases.

You laugh softly and slowly meet his gaze with a playful smirk. He snickers and then steals a quick peck from your lips before he stands back.

You flash him a giddy grin before you look back at the makeshift target and draw out a soft exhale again before letting the arrow fly.

Albeit the arrow whizzes past the target clung onto a thin tree.

“I see,” Cregan stifles his laugh and crosses his arms over his chest. “That was terrible.”

You sigh and lower your arm to stand back without meeting his gaze—your mind is just too lost.

“Your teacher must not be so good, you missed the target. You’re usually good,” he continues to tease.

You drop your arms and huff. “The tree is too thin,” you throw out the first complaint that comes to mind.

“The target isn’t the problem,” Cregan points out honestly. “When we go hunting the prey is moving. At battle, the target is moving as well. This. this is easy.”

“I won’t use a bow and arrow,” you remark and briefly meet his gaze. “I’ll have a sword in battle, and Astraea.”

Since you glance up as if you could see Astraea overhead you miss the way Cregan watches you and sees right through your troubled mind right away.

“The target isn’t the problem,” he repeats and leans his equipment against the tree behind him to approach you. “What’s wrong? What troubles you?” He asks softly and takes the stuff from your hands to put it by his.

You know you’ll sound like a total whiner, a spoiled brat most likely. He’s more humble than most of the people at Kings Landing, so he probably won’t agree, but all these thoughts are overflowing your mind and they’re beginning to drown you, you can’t hold back anymore. Besides he is your best friend, and your…paramour? Partner?

No that sounds too official, you aren’t. Paramour sounds right—he’s your secret paramour. He should know what troubles you.

“It’s,” you begin to share and sigh deeply. “It’s my mother. She’s with child again.”

He hums and just like you predicted he responds nicely which contradicts your frown and gleaming eyes. “That’s great news, I’m happy for you….” He trails off as he notices your reaction and backtracks. “Is it not great news?”

You mindlessly grab the pendant your grandmother had given you and mutter. “They’re hoping for a girl, again. Aegon came out as a boy so they’re hoping for a girl this time…to replace me.”

Cregan sighs and shakes his head as he looks at you as if you’re mad. “What? Darling, why would you think that?”

Tears fall out of your eyes as you’re overwhelmed with sorrow you can’t surpass. “Because,” your voice quivers. You can’t even look at Cregan in the eyes or else you’ll just feel a worse anguish in your heart. “Unlike Aegon and this new baby, they’ll have soon, I wasn’t made out of love. My parents had a duty to commit, not Prince Daemon and my mother. They love each other, their kids are made out of love. She wants to replace me with a daughter she wasn’t forced to have. A different daughter that…” you trail off and shake your head whilst you wipe the tears that manage to break out. “…that’s not like me.”

Cregan sighs softly and closes the gap between the two of you with an embrace. “Oh my darling girl,” he says as he begins to caress your back. “That’s the most maddest thing I’ve heard.”

Now that you’re in his embrace, as his comforting smell filters into your nose you can no longer hold back your tears, you cry softly as you hug him.

“I may not know your mother, but from what you’ve told me, it seems she loves you,” he assures you. “She’d never replace you. Never. Who would replace a woman like you?” He asks and pulls back to cup your cheeks. “It’s like if you had a daughter already, wouldn't you want another if the gods were generous enough?”

Well, when he puts it that way.

“I suppose I would,” you whisper.

Cregan offers you a faint smile and nods. “See? You just miss your mother, that’s all. Besides you’re her eldest, you’re special to her, you always will be no matter who comes along.” He assures you while he wipes your tears away before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips and on your forehead.

“You’ll always be my favorite girl regardless.” he finishes saying to lift your spirits.

And you can't help it, you slowly begin to smile before you steal a lingering kiss that he takes over and deepens. When you pull back you lean your forehead against his and wipe his lips with your thumb.

“Thank you, Cregan,” you whisper with your heart beginning to race as words just run up your throat. “I don’t know how I’d survive being so far away without you.”

The corner of his lips tug to a soft smile. “I’m the one that should be thankful,” he whispers against your lips. “The gods put you in my life and saved me from this loneliness I was bestowed with.”

Your entire face burns and you can’t help but flash him a blissful beaming grin before slamming your lips against his. Right away Cregan slides his hands to the sides of your head and begins to push you back against the tree, whilst your hands travel to the back of his neck, and your nails dig into his skin.

Driven by passion Cregan then begins to slide his hands down, letting them linger on your breasts before he tears open the top part of your dress, making you gasp. Yet your disbelief is short-lived because you then give in and unbuckle his shirt.

Albeit, soon thereafter he forces himself away and lets his head hang low as if suddenly troubled. You try to ease his stress by grabbing his face and reaching for more but he stops you. “Who would I be if I made you mine?” He mumbles between pants. “I can’t.”

Your smile softens as you're quick to reassure him. “You won’t dishonor yourself or me because I love you.”

Cregan holds your gaze in disbelief but can’t help his smile from spreading on his face. “We said we wouldn't fall in love.” He reminds you of your ultimatum.

You sigh. “I couldn’t resist myself, not when you’re the very breath in my lungs. Without you, I can’t breathe.”

It might be foolish to say, no it is stupid since you won’t marry, but it’s a truth you can’t hide. Not from him, not when he’s driven you too madly in love. And especially not when he grins so tenderly for you.

“If that’s so then I can finally relieve myself of this weight I’ve been carrying for too long and say that I love you too,” he confesses with a sense of relief as if he had been forced to hold it all back.

And you knew it’s a bad idea, you told yourself you wouldn’t give in to such passionate temptations, but you’re a woman pushed away from the mother who could teach her the reality, you remember her loving passionately and freely and you can’t help but live by those terms and smile at the man before you before you feed your forbidden passion by stealing a kiss.

“Give me the privilege of giving me your maidenhead then,” he whispers against your lips and steals the very breath from your lungs—“give me the privilege of being mine. Only mine.”

You meet his gaze and never think about Aemond, he doesn’t cross your mind when you’re with Cregan. He should be the very thing that stops you, but he's left you alone, so neither you nor Cregan think of the consequences of what could happen, you’re too driven by lust, passion, and by love.

“As long as you are mine,” you whisper impatiently as you pull his shirt off.

Cregan smirks and nods. “From this day until the end of my days,” he whispers happily against your lips as he holds your gaze and nothing else.

——

*A FEW MONTHS LATER*

“You know when I was a little girl I used to be scared of the North,” you tell Cregan while you admire a flame dancing on a candle on your end table.

“Why’s that?” He asks with some amusement playing in his tone.

You snicker and peer back at him with a smirk. “The servants' children said that giant spiders roamed the snowy lands and that northern men were big, brutish, and stole women from the homes of their husbands.”

Cregan pulls his hand away from your bare hip and you can practically hear those dark eyebrows furrow while those pink pouted lips only crease to a frown.

When you churn your head you’re proven right when you see him looking at you with a pointed look. “They say that?” He presses as if those people had personally offended him.

Your smirks turns to a teasing smile and you nod. “A lot of people like to make up reality when they don’t know it.”

Cregan grumbles and turns to lie on his back and look at the canopy overhead. You ache for more of his gentle but rough fingers so you turn and tangle your legs with his while you place your hand on his chest.

“Did you ever imagine you’d love a brutish man?” Cregan asks and almost sounds deeply serious.

You snicker and tease him. “Do I? Or did this man take me from my quarters and make me his?”

Cregan blinks and turns his head down with a smile he can’t help but flash at you. “Maybe it’s you who has cast a spell on me. I heard that the Valyrians were blood sorcerers.”

You giggle and sigh longingly. “I wish I could do such a thing, but the practice is forbidden and lost in your family, unfortunately. My natural beauty is the only thing that took you under a spell.”

Cregan blesses your ears with a hearty chuckle before he flips swiftly and captures you under him. You bite your cheeks to not yelp out of excitement and alert a servant or a guard.

“That is indeed true,” he flatters you and leans down to capture your lips in his. “You have a bewitching beauty.”

You grin and hook your arms around his neck to keep him close. “Oh, I like that.” You coo. “It makes me sound frightening.”

He hums and averts his gaze before interjecting. “No not bewitching then. Enchanting.”

Your smile softens and you can’t help but look at him softly as if he had just made you fall in love with his words alone.

“Tell me,” he continues to fill the comforting silence. “What else did you think of when you were young? More fake stories about northern men?”

You chuckle softly and shake your head. “Well,” you part your lips and sigh deeply as you think back to several years worth of thoughts, casting a long silence.

Cregan doesn’t mind the silence though, he liked to watch you in the silence like an admirer watches art they find fascinating; he never could get enough of the beauty before him. He even liked to admire you while you parted your lips.

“Without getting too depressing—”

Yet you don’t get to finish because the door handle suddenly clicks before the door bursts open, leaving you no time to attempt to hide, only leaving a second for Cregan to flip himself off you.

Nevertheless, the intruder happens to be Arra, Cregan’s wife, and your closest friend.

It turns out that Arra didn’t turn out to be the concern you worried she’d be, unexpectedly she turned out to be a good friend even if you do love her husband. Sure it took time to become friends mostly because you pushed away the possibility out of your fear that she hated you, but she doesn’t.

It also turns out that her preferences are different, she enjoys the company of women, mainly that of her handmaiden. She just put on an act that day Cregan became Lord to fool the masses. Which is a relief, you probably wouldn't be able to handle the guilt if she actually loved him.

“Arra,” Cregan hisses and pulls the furs over you to cover up your bare chest.

“Forgive me,” she mutters as she quickly closes the door behind her before she waltzs in and throws herself next to you on the bed. “I grew bored listening to all the maester had to tell me so I pretended I needed to talk to my husband.”

One would think you would be appalled that she’s lying next to Cregan and you with nothing on but the furs keeping you warm, but, well in your time together, as you’ve grown closer it’s just something you do and don’t question. For one, Arra says she finds no romantic interest in Cregan, and he’s her husband under the old gods, secondly, she jokes that she’s basically married to you too because of how much Cregan loves you, so it’s just like partners being in bed with one another; arra says.

As for Cregan and you, well, you’ve grown accustomed to it, and to keep up appearances you’ve chosen to find a taste for it.

“It’s one of the dreading days isn’t it?” You query Arra knowingly. “That’s why I pretend Astraea needs tending to. They don’t bother me when I say I’m with her.”

Arra rolls her eyes and Cregan frowns at the canopy—“I really detest that I have to suffer through the Maesters dreadful lectures without you. You’re my ward, you're meant to suffer with me.”

You snicker. “I suffered through enough of them with the previous Lady, and I will have to suffer through worse lectures in Kings Landing, I’m taking advantage of your kindness.”

Arra snaps her head to you, and you meet her gaze and you both break into laughter.

“You know we were in a conversation,” Cregan cuts in quite annoyed that your precious moments were so rudely interrupted.

You don’t mind Arra barging and find it as an excuse to see Cregan later so you drag her in your conversation. “He asked me what I would think about when I was young.”

Arra hums curiously and fixes herself to get comfortable, much to Cregan’s protest.

“Well,” you finally share your long-awaited response. “When my head wasn't literally in the clouds or fantasizing about my desires, I would often think about my future. Who I would marry, where I would go, what would happen to me, and who I wanted to be.”

A silence lingers where both Arra and Cregan think about what you said and why someone young would have to think about something so serious so early on. They both grew curious about who it is you wanted to be before a future was chosen for you, but Cregan beats Arra to the question.

“Who is that you wanted to be?”

You sigh dreamily and rest your head on his shoulder first before you tell the tale you were forced to leave behind along with your childhood. “Besides wanting to be a sailor, or an explorer, or a singer, I wanted to be Queen, a kind one like great, great grandmother Queen Alyssane, and my ancestor Queen Rhaenys.”

“Queen?” Arra probes between a joke and a serious demeanor.

You nod softly. “I was the eldest, I thought it was my right, but well…” you trail off and leave it untouched because they know why your dreams weren’t granted. Albeit you do defend yourself. “Not that I resent my brother, I never have, I kept dreaming after that dream was crushed.” You smile softly and that assures Cregan that he can poke at you now.

“What is it you wanted after that? To be a pirate? Isn’t that something you asked to be?”

You laugh and nod against his chest, letting him wrap his arm around your head to press you against him. “Yes well, besides that I dreamt of things I could never be, things I no longer crave because…my feet around on the ground now, and because when I think about tomorrow I see the people I love beside me.”

Another silence follows and this time it’s not so tense, it’s comforting and full of sweet bliss. Arra breaks it and what she shares doesn’t bring tension. “I was in crisis when I was young because I learned I fancied women, and then I hated the fact that I would have to marry a man.”

“I wanted to meet a giant that I thought lived far north,” Cregan shares and right away Arra and you share a knowing look because compared to Arra and you, that was such a sweet and weightless response. He doesn’t seem to understand what his response meant though, so when Arra and you start laughing he’s just left puzzled.

“What is it? I’m being serious, aren’t you?”

——

*128 AC*

Screams fill the room while the sour metallic smell of blood begins to filter the room.

“Come on my Lady push! The babe is almost out!” The midwife instructs Arra.

Albeit Arra throws her head back and shakes her head. “I can’t,” she cries out shakily. “I can’t! It hurts! Please don’t make me go on, please,” she begs with streams of tears mixing with the thick beads of sweat that bathe her face.

“Arra,” you mumble and lean over to grab her jaw and tilt her head to the side so she can meet your gaze. “Arra, I know it hurts, I know, but you have to keep going for your babe. If you don’t then they’ll die,” you share the harsh truth so she can get inspired. “The pain is almost over. I promise.”

Seeing and hearing her in pain is something you don’t want to witness, you know the possibility of her outcome and it frightens you; not for selfish reasons, but rather because she’s your friend, your best friend and you know how cruel childbirth can be and she doesn’t deserve to suffer.

You want to be back to when it was just Cregan, you, and her, simple and serene times. Days when you’d sit under the old weirwood tree with her, and her lady paramour, Genevieve, and sing a sweet song to the babe still growing in her belly.

“Something,” she stammers as she holds your gaze. “Something feels wrong.”

You look up to meet the gaze of her handmaiden and lover and mirror a concerned look before you look at the abnormal amount of blood that is pooling around her.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Genevieve assures her even if you’re both starting to know the cruel truth.

“Promise,” she continues to say in a way that doesn’t involve the others but doesn’t give away that her words are coming solely from her own aching heart.

“Push, my Lady, push!” They instruct again, and she listens, she puts as much effort as she can into delivering the babe that Cregan and her managed to make. However, she loses too much blood as the babe struggles to come out of her.

Arra doesn't even get to meet her son, she took her last breath as he cried for the first time, and your own heart wept at the realization.

But how does that compare to when you tell Cregan?

He didn’t love her, it’s true, but he did care for her. She was his best friend since childhood, a close confidant, and his wife. He’ll be so heartbroken and you dread seeing more of his sorrow, he was already so distressed when she began to bleed more than normal. He had to leave the room at that moment—Which in turn becomes an issue though because now no one can find him.

Albeit, you know where he is. It’s obvious too. It’s the only place he can think of going to at such a desperate moment. The Godswood.

“Cregan,” you call out as you see him sitting on a tree trunk by the red-leafed Heart tree.

Said man looks up with gleaming eyes. You don't hesitate to approach him and crouch down in front of him. “It’s a boy,” you share with a faint smile but with melancholy, he doesn't miss but ignores, Cregan actually smiles at the ground and murmurs.

“Rickon.”

You take his hands in yours and lose your smile as the dread of sharing the news begins to choke you, threatening you not to speak. Albeit he looks up at you and sees right through you again; he sees the tears stains on your cheeks, and the new tears that begin to form, and he knows he can no longer ignore the truth.

“No,” he mutters and shakes his head. “No, it cannot be true.”

You sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Cregan drops his head to hide his sorrow from you. After all these years he still hides his anguish, but now he doesn’t put on a brave face and then hides away in his chambers, now he lets you see his vulnerability. He lets you comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat and begin to caress his back. “I’m sorry.”

Cregan drops his head on your shoulder, letting you slide your hands around his neck so you can gently caress him and accompany him in his grief. You wish you could stay like that for a while longer, but you can't be caught being so affectionate so when the others found him you could go on pretending.

You learned to get better at pretending. In the first year of your secret relationship, you were almost caught doing things friends shouldn't do too many times, luckily it didn’t happen and a scandal didn’t spread…all because of Arra, she offered her aide then, she taught you how to be very discreet. Well, you were sneaky before, but you would get caught before, and because of her you didn’t and won’t. She helped you a lot and now she's gone with nothing left to her but her bones, and baby Rickon.

However, how can a child stop your departure? You had made the excuse when the five years were up that you wanted to wait for Arra to give birth, and the Queen granted it, but now?

Now Arra’s gone and the babe is here, meaning you will leave soon. You’ll leave Cregan...

That's what hurts too, knowing that with Arra’s death, your time here has also come to an end. You’ll have to leave and face…Aemond.

Seven hells.

You exhale deeply and fall on your bed now that you are in your semi-sheer white nightgown. All the walls that surround you that you once thought dull and bland, and the ceiling above you that you hated looking at when you first got here will soon change for you. This freedom you have here will soon change to a never-ending pester. And the people are somewhat nice, they're certainly a lot nicer now than they were the first year, they’re not racist anymore, but soon you’ll be surrounded by creeps like…Aegon.

Albeit creeps like him exist even here at Winterfell so that won’t change that much—The silence at night though, that will change and you’ll miss it too…

“Damn,” you grumble. “Maybe they should catch us together. It’ll be a bit of a scandal, but what of it?” You groan and sit up to push yourself off the end of your bed and walk to your balcony.

Perhaps the coldness is the one thing you won’t miss, but the silence? The tranquility? Cregan? You will miss him the most…

You sigh deeply again and fold your arms over the railing to rest your chin on your hands as you admire the empty street below. You let the silence linger for a moment before you begin to laugh quietly to yourself.

Once upon a time when you lived in Kings Landing, you’d look down at the streets below just past your window, and you'd see the calamity of everyday life and wish to be amongst it, now you’ve found peace here and wish to stay here in this castle amongst the tranquility. Have you grown, or have you forced yourself to make peace with your life?

You don’t know, so you sigh again and turn your head to the side, in that moment catching the rare blue winter rose in the corner of your railing.

A smile spreads on your lips and you rush over to pick it up, finding a small scroll around the stem. When you open it you see a small sentence; “meet me in my quarters.”

That’s bold of him, but you don’t argue, you’ve found ways to sneak to him. You use the same methods now with no hesitation and find yourself in his quarters, but find him looking out his own balcony. When you make sure no one is approaching you break your silence.

“Cregan?” You call out carefully, finding his still behavior odd.

Said man turns and you quickly add on. “Are you all right?”

The corner of his lips twitch to a slight smile. “Rickon is the most precious thing ever.” He begins to walk to you, and you don’t fail to head towards him as well—“You have to meet him.”

You smile. “I have. Albeit our meeting was cut short. He looks like you though.”

“You think?” He asks softly.

You nod as you meet right in the middle of his room. He takes no time to be sweet and grab your hands to wrap them with his warm ones.

“Baby Rickon makes me think of…our own children.” He makes your heart skip a beat before it begins to race. His words are absurd, you can’t be man and wife, but hearing him say those words makes it seem like a possibility.

“Hair white as snow, kind eyes like yours,” he says and cups your cheek. “Mighty children born of ice and fire.”

You can’t help but let your smile widen, and lose your mind in the impossible for a moment. You come down from that dream and face a truth he doesn’t want to see. However, instead of breaking his delusions, you let him dream because of his grief.

“How are you doing Cregan?” You ask and avoid the topic. “Be honest.”

Said man averts his gaze and lets your hands fall before he then wanders to the side of his bed to take a seat. “I,” he interjects but pauses and drops his head.

Now that racing heart you felt slows down and sinks as you see the anguish he was trying not to show. You approach him and sink down beside him on his bed.

“I feel as if I could have done more,” he reveals and looks up to meet your gaze, letting you see the tears that gleam over his eyes. “I know I didn’t love her as I possibly should have, but she was still my friend, and she died and I couldn’t stop it.”

You shake your head and press your hand on the side of his neck to caress him gently. “It wasn’t your fault,” you comfort him. “You did not do this. What happened to Arra unfortunately is normal. There was no preventing it. It was simply the Gods will. I’m sorry.”

Cregan swallows thickly and drifts his gaze away again, letting you press his head against your chest to be able to embrace him and keep him close to your heart.

“Now what you can do to honor her memory is be Rickon’s father,” you add quietly. “He’ll need you, Cregan.”

Cregan pulls away and faces you with tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t know how to be a father.”

“Who is?” You counter softly. “We don’t spend our lives training to be parents. You’ll struggle, everyone does, but you’ll know one step at a time as life moves on. Be the father yours was to you,” you try to assure him as you cup his jaw.

Cregan holds your gaze for a lingering minute, his lips part and his gaze softens. He doesn’t say anything for a moment that seems to go on for eternity, but then, just as you were growing insecure about what you said, he smiles before he steals a kiss from you.

“See,” he breaks his silence and grabs your cheeks. “This is why I love you. This is why you’d make a great Lady of Winterfell. Your kindness can melt the coldness that surrounds this land.”

You scoff softly and drop your eyes whilst you push his hands away and stand up off the bed. He lays down and watches you pace away.

“I’d also make a good Lady because I am stubborn, a good ruler needs that,” you play along, making him chuckle. However, you end your amusement fast and grow serious.

“But you truly can’t say that,” you mutter and grab the pillar of his bed to spin around and begin to walk to the other side. “You can’t say those things to me.” You remind him sharply.

“If I put a babe in your belly they’ll send you back to me,” he suddenly blurts, causing you to stop just as you reach the other side of the bed to stare at him in disbelief.

“You’ll have no choice but to be my wife and Lady,” he adds the fire, but regardless of the heat that basks your face you pretend to be bothered and grab a pillow off his bed to throw at him. Albeit Cregan catches it and snickers.

“My darling love,” he adds and then flips on his bed to crawl towards you. “Is that not your wish? Your greatest desire? I can put one in you now. Have you back with me in 60 days. ”

“Cregan,” you mumble and sigh with sadness knowing it’s not something that can happen. “You’d know what would happen if you did. Aemond would come after you, my family would too.”

Cregan sits up on his knees before he grabs your hand and suddenly yanks you towards him on the bed, making you yelp as you grab onto his shoulders.

“What?” He counters. “You don't think I can fight him?” He snickers and cups your face. “I’d do it. I’d fight every fucking man in this world if it meant making you my wife.”

It’s these words that only add to your ache about leaving, that only makes you swoon that much more for a man you can’t have.

“I have to—”

“Quiet,” he interrupts you and covers your mouth, making you let out a muffled scoff and twist your face to demonstrate your discontent. “Don’t say it,” he says, knowing that you were going to tell him you had to leave. “Just lay with me tonight.” He pulls his hand away from your mouth and pulls you down with him so you can lie right next to him on his bed.

You debate on dwelling on the matter, but if these are your last moments, then you want to appreciate them, so you don’t bring up your fate and just let him gently stroke your exposed back with his fingers. You snuggle against his warm chest and embrace him, you don’t think about anything but him in the comforting silence that blankets the two of you.

It’s stupid of you, but you love him.

——

*A COUPLE DAYS LATER*

Tonight is the last night you’ll ever spend together. Tonight is the last night you’ll see his beautiful face basked by the moon's soft light, tonight is the last night you’ll touch his lips, laugh, and hear his sweet voice pour in your ear like honey. Tonight is the last night you’ll be embraced by his warmth, it’s the last time you’ll have his smell filter in your nose, it’s the last time you'll hear him laugh, and see his smile painted on his features.

Tonight is the last night you can be lovers before you have to act as mere strangers passing through the night. And he’s making the most of it, acting as if nothing is going to happen. You try to act as clueless as him, but the thoughts keep coming back.

“Cregan,” you call out as he keeps walking deeper in the woods. “It’s far enough, and It’s cold, perhaps we should go to your quarters.”

Cregan peers back briefly and flashes you an assuring smile. “Not much further, just catch up.” He waves you over, forcing you to pick up your pace in the fresh snow that blankets the ground tonight. However, you come to a quick stop at the same time Cregan does when a wolf's howl breaks out from very close by; or at least that’s what it seems, maybe it’s your sudden fear that makes you hear it.

“Cregan,” you whisper sharply and approach quickly to clutch onto his arm. “Let’s go back to our usual spot, come on. These aren’t our grounds.” You look out to the depths of the woods to see if you’d find a pair of glowing eyes.

“These are my grounds,” Cregan corrects you and reaches for your hand. “Come let’s get closer.” He tugs you further, but you instantly yank him back.

“Are you mad?” You argue in panic and slight judgment. “There can be a pack of wolves out there.”

Cregan scoffs and grabs both of your hands to pull you towards him and counter. “And you have a dragon, don’t be frightened.”

“Astraea wouldn’t bite our faces off and shred us apart with her teeth,” you counter back louder. “The wolves will, and Astraea can only get here so fast.”

Cregan shoots you a smirk, just a simple smirk before he lets your hands fall to run ahead without you.

“Cregan?!” You shout as you stay put and watch as he reaches the top of the small hill before you lose his figure past some trees. “Cregan, don’t leave me alone!”

Seven hells!

Fucking man…

You squint your gaze and take a step forward, but don’t catch a glimpse of him. You just hear the sound of a wolf howling again, causing your heart to skip a beat before it starts to race as your fear heightens. “Cregan!” You call out for him again. “Don’t jest with me!”

You take another cautious step forward and stick your neck out, but still nothing.

Alas then, from the deafening silence, there’s a scream that comes from Cregan up ahead.

The wolf got him!

Rather than being hesitant, you pick up your dress's skirt and run where you saw him disappear to even if there’s a wolf close by.

“Cregan?!” You cry out desperately and proceed to come to a stop when you don’t see him or a wolf. “Cregan?!” You grab onto the tree and turn your head from side to side, however, it’s at that exact moment that hands slap against your shoulders and a quiet “boo,” is whispered in your ear, causing you to yelp and spin around hastily.

And there in the shadows is Cregan, his gray eyes reflecting his joy, while his smile shines just as bright as the stars and the moon before his evil laugh fills the silence.

“Why would you do that?!” You remark with anger before you try to shove him back. However, he catches your wrists in time.

Yet Cregan’s feet aren’t planted against the ground well, and the force you put behind your hit is strong, so he loses balance and falls backward, taking you along with him since he refuses to let go. When he hits the ground you scramble to get up, but the hill you fall on is steep, so you accidentally tumble and take him with you down the snow-covered hill.

He of course laughs the entire way down, but you find no amusement in what happened considering he had you worried sick.

“You are cruel,” you grumble the moment you stop rolling and fall on him. “You are a cruel man.”

You try to move to the side, but he grabs your hands and tugs you back down against him.

“It was only a jest, my love,” he coos and grabs your face. “I just wanted to see something.”

You shoot him a glare and shake your head. “What? How bad I can get a heart attack? I thought you got hurt.”

“And you came running, I’m honored,” he counters with a smirk before he pulls you in for a kiss. Albeit you pull away and smack his chest.

“It wasn’t funny, I was worried,” you mumble with a pout and turn your head away.

Cregan finds this more amusing so he lifts his head and tries to steal kisses from you, but you keep pushing him away and turning your head. When he finally has enough of you turning away he presses his hand against your back to flip you over with ease so he can be on top of you.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he whispers. “It’s funny, laugh.”

You hold his gaze and feign a laugh, causing him to roll his eyes.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” You ask and lift your arms to grab his biceps. “Maybe that will change my mood?”

Cregan smiles softly and caresses your cheek. “I’m more than content staying right here, I love the view.” He tries to prolong this moment with sweet words that work to make you swoon.

“Well,” you whisper reluctantly. “My view isn’t terrible either…but my ass is getting wet.”

Cregan feigns concern. “Really? Let me see.”

“Pft,” you blow out and slide your hands down his arms to grab his hands.

“Come then,” he stops messing around and keeps your hand warm under his grasp as he pulls you with him. “Let me show you the world.”

No matter the impending doom, your grin widens and that fear vanishes completely, leaving only curiosity and glee where sorrow should be. Once you arrive at where he wanted to go you immediately know you should’ve known better because this place isn’t new, you’ve been on the hill that overlooks Winterfell before. Many times actually it’s his favorite spot after all.

Regardless, the castle from higher ground is truly a beautiful sight with all the glimmering torch lights, and the moonlight dancing on the snow around the ancient grounds.

“Sit,” he demands as he extends his cloak over the ground. “This way you won’t have to get your pretty ass wet.”

You meet his gaze and snicker as you sit, letting him lie down in front of you so he can rest his head on your lap.

“I’ll miss Winterfell,” you mention as you look at the castle below while you stroke his arm. “In a month's time, it’s back to, “yes your Grace, no your Grace”. Locked towers. The insufferable Ser Criston Cole who thinks he’s high and mighty, and my fucking uncle Aegon.” You groan in frustration.

“I can go beat him bloody,” Cregan offers.

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I can handle him. Maybe show him a thing or two as well,” you say smugly, making Cregan smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he says.

You smile down at him and lean down to steal a kiss from his pink lips, but he doesn't fail to ruin the moment.

“If that place is such torture, then stay,” he doesn’t suggest, or persuade you, he’s demanding now.

“All your things are already here. I only need to ask your mother for your hand.”

Your smile drops, and you avert your gaze, not wanting to entertain this further. You want this to be a good last night.

“I may not be ecstatic to return to King's Landing, but I have to go see my grandfather the King, he’s clinging onto life,” you find an excuse that doesn’t involve Aemond just yet. “I miss my family. I want to see my mother soon after I arrive. As well as my brothers, my cousins, all my family who I miss terribly.” You don’t excuse yourself this time, it’s all coming from your heart's desire. You've been apart for so long and can’t really fathom another year without seeing them.

You only wish you could see your father Laenor too.

“You’ll see them at your wedding to your prince,” Cregan grumbles. “Speak the truth, you want to return to him.”

You swallow back the lump forming in your throat and then look down at him with your face contorted in slight annoyance and shock. “No,” you argue back right away to assure him. “No, Aemond…he’s a stranger to me now. We’re betrothed, he was my best friend, but he stopped sending ravens, he stopped caring. He means nothing more than a stranger does.”

Cregan sits up and turns to face you. “Then stay,” he insists. “If he truly is a stranger then stay with me. Marry me. Don’t leave me in agony.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head with a pitiful look on your face. “You know I can’t do that, it’s not that simple,” you argue for his sake and yours.

Cregan however, clenches his jaw and huffs out before adding to his argument. “I told you I’d fight him. I’ll fight everyone that comes in my way.”

You can’t let his words affect you now, no matter how fast it makes your heart race, or how hot your face burns as you grow flustered.

“We’ve kissed, we’ve laid together, you are mine,” he presses passionately. “I’ll kill him to prove it.”

“No,” you quickly rebuttal, causing him to stiffen and furrow his eyebrows as he starts to believe the opposite of what you try to tell him.

“He has the oldest dragon,” you press so he can listen to reason, while you grab Cregan's arms to keep him close. “He’d kill you first. And if he does then…” you trail off and scoff. “Then what will become of me without you?”

Cregan pushes your hands away and stands up with a scowl twisted on his face. “I don’t care because I hate the idea of him touching you, of him kissing you the way I kiss you. I fill with rage knowing he’ll be inside you.”

Your body begins to burn with desire at his words, at the sound of his jealousy, but you don’t let him tempt you, you just stand up and let him grab your cheeks.

“I don’t want him to see you smile, or-or feel your comfort,” Cregan continues to recite beautiful words. “He hurt you already,” he whispers and traces the scar on your face that Aemond accidentally left you with. “I just want you to be mine.”

You shiver at his gentle touch, you crave for more, but you still push him away. “If that’s so then…” you pause and let out a shaky sigh as your eyes fill with tears and that lump of emotions returns to crawl up your throat. “…I wish we had never become friends. I wish we had never met, or loved each other the way we do—”

“Don’t say that,” he cuts you off and approaches you, but you step back.

“I don’t want to be the bane of your existence Cregan,” you finish saying with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I told you before, that night we revealed ourselves to one another for the first time. And you,” you point. “You were okay with it. You knew what was going to happen. You know I’m stubborn, you knew nothing was going to change my fate.” You stifle your whimper and drop your head.

“Look at me,” he says sternly, making you lift your gaze to meet his gray eyes that brew like the angriest storm.

“I’d rather die tomorrow than spend a century without knowing you,” he says, making your breath catch. “You will never be the bane of my existence. Never. Forgive me.”

He approaches you and you let him this time. “But I just don’t understand why you want to marry the prince. Do you not love me?”

You nod and cup his jaw to assure him. “I love you. I just…” you hesitate. “I'm just afraid of losing you. If you win a fight for my hand, Aemond won't stop there, and I can’t even breathe with the thought of living my life without you. Sure we’ll be far from one another, but I’ll be content knowing your heart is beating, and that we are living under the same sky,” you whisper and lower one hand to press it against his chest to feel his heartbeat. “That we share the same sun, that we look at the same moon and stars.”

You offer him a sad smile and he admires it while he swallows thickly, and lingers there stiffly for a moment before he suddenly pulls you in for a deep and passionate kiss that is cut too short.

“So be it then,” he gives in as he pulls away. “I’ll let you go without a fight. I’ll ache for you every day, I’ll love you from afar and want nothing but happiness for you, my sweet love,” he tries to assure you in the way you want to be assured even if the words he says are like bile in his mouth. He presses his forehead against yours and begins to caress your face while he smiles softly at you. “If I hear that he hurt you I’ll march down there and kill him.”

You chuckle and feel tears stream down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll write to you every week. Don’t forget me.”

Cregan shakes his head and scoffs. “Don’t speak madness woman, I’d never forget you. I’ll write back every week. And if you don’t get married 6 months from now I will go to your mother personally and ask for your hand.”

You beam at him and nod, knowing that you’ll be married by then. “All right. Okay. I like the sound of that.”

Cregan pulls his head back to take in the sight of your face he thinks is so enchantingly beautiful for a lingering moment before he slams his lips on yours to kiss you again with more passion before he can’t ever again.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

No matter how much you keep telling yourself it was going to happen, nothing could actually prepare you for leaving Cregan and Winterfell. You couldn't even sleep a wink or eat knowing that your life was going to change again.

All your friends, Cregan, and every aspect of this life as you know it is going to become nothing but good memories. Which is very hilarious considering you dreaded coming five years ago; now you don’t want to part from it. Or him.

“Farewell, my friend,” you tell Rolf who is now a Knight, and now stands a foot over you; he was small when you first met.

“Farewell, Princess, may our paths cross again,” he redirects sweetly with a friendly smile.

You draw in a small shaky breath and nod before you step forward and surprise him with an embrace. “If you ever find yourself at King’s Landing come find me, just say you want to talk to me.” You tell him softly.

Rolf tightens his arms around you and assures you. “Of course, Princess.”

You linger in the embrace for a moment longer hoping to drag on this interaction because once you part away the last person to say goodbye to is Cregan.

But no matter how much you fight it, the inevitable is already upon you. There was no avoiding it.

“Farewell, Lord Stark,” you say softly as if you were no more than friends, you don’t even hide your tears even if they’re really for the lover you’re leaving behind and can’t kiss one last time, or tell him how much you love him.

“Thank you for letting me stay, for making Winterfell my home.”

Cregan clenches his fist to resist himself from comforting you, from kissing you, and forcing you to stay. He holds himself back even if it pains him.

“Farewell,” he puts in a simple word with that stern voice he uses when he’s amongst his people. “…Sweet Princess.”

He steps forward as he holds your gaze and reaches his hand out to ask for yours. You know what he wants and don’t hesitate to give him your gloveless hand.

When your warm flesh touches his, he carefully embraces your hand with his and then pulls it towards his lips to press a friendly kiss on your knuckles.

You shiver at the feeling of his wet lips but continue to hold his gaze as if nothing. You let your hand linger in his and push yourself to add more to your final farewell. “Write, I’ll be far but it doesn’t mean we still can’t maintain our friendship.” You smile and slowly pull your hand away to clasp it in front of you again.

“I will,” he assures you and then looks away for the first time since he’s walked you to your carriage to look back at one of the servants and give him a nod.

“I have something for you,” Cregan adds and meets your gaze again, piquing your curiosity. “A farewell present from me and Rickon.”

You slowly begin to grin and look at the servant who falls beside him and hands him a small wooden crate.

“I know how much you love these feline creatures so I want you to take one home,” he continues while motioning you closer with his eyes. When you’re a few inches away you look into the crate and see a small but chunky balled-up dark gray kitten.

“Oh,” you muse and open the crate to carefully take it out. “Hello, my beautiful friend.”

“It’s a piece of Winterfell to take with you,” Cregan interjects as he admires you comforting the kitten.

“Don’t worry, Astraea won’t eat you,” you assure the kitten. “You’ll be friends, won’t you, Wolf?” You give the gray kitten a name that reminds you of Cregan’s gray eyes. You then blink and look over at Cregan with a beaming grin. “Thank you, Lord Stark. I love the gift. I shall love it, cherish it, and always keep it safe.” You exhale deeply and let your handmaidens take the crate as you step back towards your carriage that will take you to the harbor.

“Farwell once again,” you keep longing the interaction as much as you can.

“Farewell, Princess,” Cregan says one more time using your birth name and your old family name while he also clenches his hands into fists again.

You hope he’ll keep interjecting with more but this time he doesn’t ask for your hand, he doesn’t hand you another present, this time it’s time to leave, thus, after one last lingering look you turn and walk to the carriage with tears forming in your eyes. Once you reach the steps, however, Cregan is there beside you, you meet his dark gray eyes for one last time and give him your hand again to let him cup it and help you up the two steps.

Before you can walk inside and close the door in front of him though, you linger there, you hold his comforting gaze even as Astraea lets out a soft cry in the distance. Neither of you want to pull away, but you have to, you have to leave, so you pull away first and walk in. You let the coach close the door before Cregan and minimize your view of his beautiful face.

The coach doesn’t take long to depart from that spot it was stationed at after that, he doesn’t know about your aching hearts, he doesn’t know to slow down so you could look at Cregan’s gray eyes and his pale face through the little gaps designed on the window for longer than a glimpse. The coach races out, making Cregan’s figure disappear before your very eyes, and letting you see snow, endless blankets of snow.

You want to cry badly, but you can’t, you don’t want to give anything away, so you hold onto your kitten, Wolf, and let Astraea express your hidden sadness with her melancholy song as she follows the carriage.

Now onto the stranger who was once your best friend, but who is still your betrothed, Aemond.

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Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans

[imjustasimpxd]

My Angel (Part Two)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : around 5, 200 words

Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

❗️Important Note❗️

There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))

“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.

“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.

“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.

What was Falco really up to?

Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.

Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.

But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.

With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.

Well, at least, not anymore.

He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.

In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.

So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?

It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.

So who on earth was he being forced to see?

“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.

From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.

The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?

Was this a trap he was walking into?

Should he leave?

Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.

If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.

Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.

Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.

However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.

“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”

Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?

Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?

The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.

He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.

“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.

Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.

“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”

That voice. Reiner knew that voice.

It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.

It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…

All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.

“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.

The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.

“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.

However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.

All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.

You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.

And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?

“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.

He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.

Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.

Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.

“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.

Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”

Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”

Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.

“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.

The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.

You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.

Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.

Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.

“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.

It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.

You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.

So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.

“Can you take off the hood?”

Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?

“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.

“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.

Nevertheless, you were persistent.

“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.

“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”

You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.

He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?

It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.

Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.

As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.

It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.

Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.

Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.

It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.

That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.

Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.

Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.

Who was this woman?

If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.

Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?

No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.

Was this… the product of his own making?

Was this… what he’d turned you into?

As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.

“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.

“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”

Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.

“Which friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.

To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.

The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.

“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.

“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.

Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”

Was that true?

If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?

Why he had to leave?

“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”

It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.

“Nothing you say will change what happened.”

He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.

“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”

A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.

“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.

“Why did you betray us?”

Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.

“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”

“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.

Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.

Did that mean he really was the villain?

In your eyes, maybe.

Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.

“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”

Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.

How did things end up like this?

He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.

“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.

“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.

He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.

It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.

You didn’t understand it, even now.

Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?

How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?

What changed? Was it something you did?

Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.

“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.

Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.

It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.

But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.

Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.

“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”

Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.

Did he just hear that right?

A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?

As if you could ever be such a thing.

Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.

There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.

But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.

You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.

He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.

Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.

Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.

Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.

Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.

It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.

Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.

“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”

Was that even a question?

Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.

But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?

Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?

What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?

Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.

Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.

All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?

Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?

Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?

You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.

Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?

“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”

Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.

“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”

He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.

Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?

He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.

If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.

He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.

Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.

Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.

“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”

“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.

So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.

However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.

“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.

He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.

He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.

He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.

Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.

That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.

“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).

Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams

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[l0velybvnny]

cursed vessels 2

part one

“so we’re meeting girl here? i thought it was only going to be the three of us sensei..” y/n says confusedly taking a bit of itadori’s popcorn as she stands between him and megumi.

“hm, no n/n. theirs another girl she should be arriving soon you’ll recognize her, she has the same uniform as the three of you.” the blindfolded man says, smiling as he leans over ruffling her hair.

before she can protest about him messing up her perfectly tamed hair she sees a girl— a pretty one, though she isn’t giving the best impression she’s speaking. loudly to a man, her hand gripping the shoulder of his shirt as it looks like he’s trying to scramble out of her grasp.

stepping on her tippy toes y/n leans up to the taller black haired boy and whispers not so quietly. “hey.. she’s pretty right megumi?” she asks her voice tickling the boy in questions ear making his cheeks flush as he opens his mouth about to respond they both turn to gojo as she calls for the girl to come over. “hey come over here!” the older man calls.

as the girl comes over, they get introductions out of the way and gojo says him and the girl they know as kugisaki are going on a mission a supervised one— which surprises y/n since her first mission was unsupervised by her clan but she holds her tongue knowing the way the kamo’s are towards her they probably intended for her to die on it more than likely.

ღ

after the pairs mission and a lot of bickering a lot for people for who just met earlier this day as they walk y/n follows behind them a small smile on her face as she watches— they fit together than she does. her smile slightly fading she keeps her gaze towards the ground as she walks feeling the cursed spirit that lives inside her suddenly begin to pick with her. humming she ignores watching up with them linking her arm with fushiguro’s as she smiles widely at him listening to kugisaki and itadori bicker maybe they all do fit together?