#Blade Signs for Business | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reshinless · 1 year ago

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☆ ❝ 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞? ❞ ⋆ hsr x reader

synopsis. whenever he wants to taste you so bad ...

warnings. cervix eating, afab!gn!reader, face sitting, dom!character, they/them pronouns are used on reader, squirting (done by reader), overstimulation, fingering

author's note. just finished a documentary on a serial killer then wrote an essay with my own free will

pairings. dan heng, blade, luocha, jing yuan, sampo, welt, caelus x afab!gn!reader / fem!reader (take this however you like because i still use they/them on reader but they're afab :p)

dan heng is just messy asf, like probably his first time too, never really has had gotten the chance to ever eat anyone out. kind of was too busy to do that. but when you offered, he couldn't help but think of how you'd be straddled atop his chest, and his tongue just went deeper and deeper into your sensitive hole, and honestly would slurp your aftermath all up after with no shame. the loud sounds of him licking up all your cum didn't help the embarassment. but he pushed his thoughts away and finally got you straddled onto his face, and pleasure was all that was on his mind. the taste of your sweet honey just made him wanna indulge so much deeper inside you. your velvety walls clenching around his snake-like tongue was a good enough sign he'd get to taste such sweet bliss again.

type of guy to overstimulate the hell outta you just for all that essence. he has never tasted anything better. probably would finger you while you sit on the motel bed you rented for a few measly 10 thousand credits. becomes so greedy when his mouth is finally latched onto your hole just begging for you to come. after a while of eating you out, he'll just know where your g-spot is, would go so far to even say his tongue memorized it, and the taste. and he just can't get enough of it. and after everyday as your trailblazing mission is ongoing, whether you'd be away from him at the moment or just right beside him, he already misses you and your pussy so much :(

caelus is def a big sweetheart about it. even though you think he wouldn't be the one to ask, he would. "hey i've been a little stressed lately, can you.. sit on my face and let me treat you right?", and can't help but be a little messy with it, when you finally are on top of him. your hole is right there, wet and ready for him. he's still so blushy, shy and nervous about it. but as soon as he gets a taste of such bliss, he can't help but get more, and more, and more. as soon as he felt your cum on his tongue he couldn't help but want more! he doesn't mean to overstimulate you :(( he just wants more of that tasty sweetness!

does it after trailblazing missions specifically, his thoughts do lowkey get to him while on the job, probably jerked off to the idea of eating you out, or you giving him a blowjob, but that's another story, for another day, not tomorrow, not the day after, some day. anyways, he definitely likes the idea of doing it publicly, the adrenaline of someone catching you in the bathroom with your boyfriend's mouth filled with lust and hunger, he'd keep going if that ever happened, literally just wants everything we can harvest out of you. at first he does like to tease with a bit of fingering and kitty licks while you're blindfolded. your thighs slowly choking him is such a relieving feeling to him, he can't wait to feel that exotic bliss on his tongue.

cw: public-ish sex

sampo will not hesitate to tease the living hell out of you, does it everyday, and any day. and is not shameful at all, will ask you to sit on his face with confidence. after all the teasing is over though he will be messy with it. lowkey wants you to fuck his face with your pussy slowly because it feels that good. his nose literally covered in your wetness because of how deep his tongue is in, or how your forcing his face to get closer, as you're ab to cum!! also the kind of guy to finger you while he eats you out.

loves doing it in an alleyway in belobog especially. just indulging the hell outta your pussy while others just watch as he marks what's clearly his. his gloved finger so deep inside you, so deep inside your pussy and he just had to have such long and slender fingers, as he kept licking your blushing clit, and he couldn't help but moan into your pussy too <33 the vibrations just sent all the more pleasure into you. after that, he'll forcibly grab your thighs and put them atop his shoulders as he also sat you down on 2 small boxes stack on each other and eats you out even more. not afraid at all to overstim your poor hole. but how can he resist such ethereal tasting bliss of yours? it tasted so good he just couldn't get enough!

welt is very straightforward. only word that comes to mind, no shame, maybe a bit, but will ask you himself with pleasure to ask you to sit ontop of his face, or at least just let him eat you out. he's been so stressed after that trailblazing mission.. he's just gotta eat somethingg.... and you can't deny him forever so one thing led to another, he's ravaging in the taste of your hole, god.. why was it just so fucking addicting? the sticky taste of the sweet little honey you produced made him wanna cum, he is indeed stroking his cock as he eats you out, he's just that kind of guy!!

more into doing it in private, prefers that only he hears how good his tongue makes you feel. so long, and it just felt so good, his nose getting covered in the sticky essence, he didn't care anymore, he just wanted more and more. but would probably ask you if he can overstimulate you more LOL. if himeko like ever just comes in without knocking, he'll literally growl, and she'll be out in a jiffy, just.. can't get the image of a hungry welt eating his s/o's pussy like a homeless man who hasn't ate in days... is just certainly shocked, calm, collected, and cool; welt yang, was so easily undone and broken by his s/o('s taste yum yum yum)..

jing yuan has no mercy at all, and will ask you so nonchalantly, "hey, can you sit on my face i'm kinda stressed ;(" is the first text you see when opening your phone. is this really the dozing general of luofu.. asks you so many times actually, like when he's bored and lazing around he'll just ask you to sit on his desk while he eats you out. but dear fucking god— whenever you just came all over his tongue, why the hell did that taste so damn good?? so good he would literally eat you out everyday if he could just to have that 'snack'. and he wouldn't want anyone else's, yours was special, that's what he said. and honestly i see him to be the type that his eyes glow when he gets closer to his climax, and he is another one of the cock stroking while eating you out gang!!

whatever anyway, he'll pound the hell out of your pussy after anyway, don't worry! it's just 'till you can't move a damn muscle in your legs, kind of guy to just want to hold you down by your hips, or the plush of your thighs, he just wants you to hold still while he drinks the devil's wine. if he isn't stroking his cock while he eats you out, his hard cock will just be out in the open while he fingers and eats you out too <3. eats you out like a snack literally sometimes, because he acts like he didn't just eat you out half the time. like after getting you cleaned up and everything, he literally would just start asking "you want anything for dinner?", "huh? it's 1pm in the afternoon jing yuan—"

blade is really rough when eating you out. messy and rough. type of guy to softly bite on your clit/really rub his tongue against that spot tbh HLP.. overall is confident, "hey babe can i eat you out rq im aboutta go out" "huh??". has your legs on his shoulders and roughly brings your hole to his mouth, all that juice on his tongue is really what makes him distracted from anything else, like even if anyone were to walk in on you both, he wouldn't care, your sultry moans and you cumming all over his face is all that mattered. will finger you and eat you out because he likes it when you squirt your cum out, is in love with the idea. and right after probably would put you into a mating press and insert his dick so smoothly inside there <3

the type to say i'll wash you up after eating you out but ends up having sex in the shower and literally pounds the shit out of your hole.. again.. in the bed this time.. he gives the first impression of high sex drive, breeding kink blade, what can i say? anyways, will just be so glad to slurp all your cum up after, in love with the scent, smell, taste, anything about you, and he'd gladly say it out loud. just keep cumming all over his face when he eats you out and little bladies will be running everywhere :0

luocha, even if he is a doctor of some sort, he is either so vanilla with it, just a few kitty licks and fingering you, or rough as fuck and messy, no in between because it's either he's gonna make you cum all over his face or cream on his face, doesn't want anything in between. will be glad to finger you if he feels like he wants your cum to just squirt everywhere, mmm just sit on his face and let him do the rest. doesn't care if his hair gets messy, doesn't care if he's supposed to be somewhere right now, he just wants more of this.. essence. whatever it is, he wants more. and won't be pleased if he hasn't milked you of all of it.

doesn't care if anyone decides to walk in on you both either, but that doesn't mean he prefers public sex. just prefers these moments to just him and you. probably also has a breeding kink. while he fingers you, right before he indulges himself in you, and gets too lost and drunk on the taste, he's already daydreaming of mini versions of him and you. loves the idea sm<33 and is glad you are pleased by the idea too!! so he hopes you don't mind his rock hard cock will pound you after a few 7 rounds of eating you out! just for you <3

can't take the word pussy seriously had to replace it with hole for that and because i want this to be for everyone/every reader!!

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tetzoro · 7 months ago

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SLOW MORNINGS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. kuroo tetsuro !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after two years, you finally agreed to move in with kuroo and after your first night together, kuroo reflects on his perspective of love — and how much you’ve influenced it.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : fluff, fluff, fluff ! — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was lost in the abyss on kuroosdarling but i rescued this cheesy lil piece. enjoy !! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

love was something kuroo always found in fiction.

whether it would be from the stories his grandmother used to read to him as she tucked him into bed, her sweet voice filling his mind with a longing desire to one day have even a fraction of that love.

or in the books his father swore he didn’t own but yet somehow found themselves nestled in between the self help and business books that collected dust on his bookshelf. the tattered covers showing signs of wear and tear that could only come from a devoted reader.

but he never thought he’d make it here and experience a moment like this for himself. he never thought that this was something he’d ever even want at all. relationships had always been pushed back into the far corner of his heart, the fear from his parents ultimate brutal destruction overshadowed his desire for it.

so he never chased after love.

but then you chased after him. and he couldn’t help but welcome you in his arms. you were everything he never thought he needed. you brought peace and serenity into his life. kept him grounded, balanced but still somehow always knew how to push his buttons and keep him on his toes at the same time.

you were the perfect partner for him.

the day he met you, he had no idea how much you were going to infiltrate his life. you went behind enemy lines, storming towards his heart all without making a noise. the perfect stealth attack that left him questioning if he ever had any defenses to begin with.

but he supposed that all boiled down to a simple fact. he could act blind all he wanted, but his soul knew better, for it was the very thing that led you right into his heart, letting you steal it and make it yours.

he was just happy that it was finally in safe hands.

it all brought him crashing down to this moment — seeing your toothbrush innocently sitting next to his in the little ceramic glass by the bathroom sink. the little reminder that showed he shared his space with someone, actually letting them into every crevice of his heart. the thought had him getting a little emotional at 6 in the morning.

because he could easily look over to his right, through the opened bathroom door and see you still peacefully asleep in his bed — your shared bed. and it warmed his heart to no end.

as if you could sense his thoughts, you shift awake, watching him as he stared back at you.

“morning tetsu.” you whisper into the otherwise silent apartment. it took him a second to process the words as they spilled from your lips, watching as you slowly get up and stretch in a way that reminded him of a cat when they first rise from their slumber.

“morning sweetheart.” he smiles, his toothbrush haphazardly hanging out of the side of his mouth. you giggled at the sight, causing his grin to spread wider — wide enough for it to slip out of his mouth and into his hand. his reflexes from volleyball always came in handy when he needed it most. but he supposed he still looked like a fool in front of you — you just had that effect on him.

“you still asleep in there or something?” you ask, teasing him as you wander into the bathroom, wiping some toothpaste off his cheek before wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

“tell me, is it possible to get too much beauty sleep? because you’ve never looked more gorgeous.” he murmurs back, his large hand covering yours as he held your gaze in the mirror. he relished in the flustered expression you tried to hide as your face burrowed between his shoulder blades.

“so cheesy this early? my oh my, we’re off to a good start.” you giggle, your lips pressing against his bare back as the sound escapes you, sending chills all throughout him.

“you better believe it.” he smirks, happily leaning back into your touch. “how’d you sleep?”

“i slept great.” you poke your head out from behind him, smiling as you met his gaze in the mirror once again. it was hard for him not to immediately match your smile, the light in your eyes already brightening the dawn of the day. so he didn’t bother to fight it as his lips lifted upward. “our first night together in the apartment.”

“our apartment.” he quickly corrected, his palm patting your hand soothingly.

“our apartment.” you repeat. you pivot so you’re next to him, lightly bumping his hip with yours so he’d step to the side, giving you some room in the cramped space. you reach over and grab your toothbrush, the very one he was so caught up in only moments ago.

the quiet space now filled with life as you start your morning routine. he resumes brushing his teeth, watching each step you take.

how could something so mundane fill him with such joy?

your pretty eyes meet his in the mirror once again as you start brushing, slightly widening them in surprise under his watchful gaze.

and you were just so cute, sleep still clinging onto your sweet features as if you were internally fighting to stay awake. the two of you had plenty of sleepovers prior to you moving in, but this felt different.

this was the start of your lives together.

and it made him happy. so happy that he couldn’t help but chuckle, watching your face scrunch up at the strong minty toothpaste he used.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter either, lovingly looking at him through the mirror as your shared giggles fill the room.

if this was the first day to the rest of your lives together, he knew it would be filled with nothing but love. the kind of love he thought only existed in cliche movies and sappy poems. the kind in the bedtime stories his grandmother would read to him. the kind he found between the annotated pages of his father’s books.

but he found all of that within you, the love of his life.

thank you so much for reading :3

#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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warnersister · 10 months ago

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Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

2K notes · View notes

voxslays · 3 months ago

Text

The night I found you.

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, after death, Alastor finds you (his wifey) again, but at what cost?

Warnings: Smut, Dub-Con, Tentacles, AFAB! Reader, Alastor being a jerk.

A/N: Today has been stressful. I just got locked out of the google account I used for this tumblr account—yet somehow managed to stay signed in. Anyways, if I one day dissapear I probably got locked out again. Anyways, this is a part two of this fic. Hope you enjoy!

Years later, in the infernal depths of Hell, a twisted version of Alastor now known as the Radio Demon hunts from the shadows. His eyes, once filled with warmth and love, now gleam with malice and cruel amusement. But he had been missing for seven years. You knew Alastor would come looking for you eventually, but it had been almost ninety years since your deaths. Why hadn’t he come sooner? You assumed he didn't care. How wrong you were…

You were taking a relaxed stroll on the sidewalk, minding your own business, until you heard a familiar voice. A voice you knew all too well; Alastor. He had found you. You turn around just in time to see Alastors wicked grin, his voice a seductive purr over the static of his radio. “Well, well...If it isn't my darling little doe, finally come to join me in the eternal flames.” He chuckles darkly. “I've missed you, my sweet.” He slowly steps closer.

He looks different. He still has the same tall, slender frame. But now, his skin is a light, grayish-tan, and he has a wide, toothy grin filled with sharp yellow teeth. He sports small, curved antlers reminiscent of those on a deer, which contribute to his imposing presence, and his eyes—which used to be a beautiful chocolate brown color—are now a bright, glowing red.

“Alastor…?” You say his name as if it's a question. Alastor tilts his head slightly, his red eyes narrowing as he gazes at you. "Oh, ma chéri...It's been so long. And look at you, just as beautiful as the day I... " He trails off, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well, you know." He steps closer, the air around him crackling with static. "Did you like it, Y/N? Did you like how it felt? The sting of the blade?" He chuckles darkly. "I still remember the way you screamed... “ He takes another step closer. “Stop.” You say firmly, almost at your breaking point. “But I've barely begun, my darling.”

He reaches out and gently caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch is ice-cold, and his skin feels like rough, parched leather. "And now, we can be together forever." You smack his hand away. “Don't touch me.” Alastor’s grin widens menacingly, baring his sharp teeth. "Feisty, just like old times." He circles you like a predator, his voice a low purr. "You can't run from me now, my dear. We're trapped here together, for all eternity..."

“Our marriage ended the moment you decided to murder me.” You snap at him. Alastor stops circling and stands in front of you, his red eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. "Our marriage ended the moment I realized you were a weakness, a liability," he corrects, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re truly sick.” You spit. Alastor lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Sick? Yes. In love? Still. Eternal." He reaches out and grabs your throat, lifting you off your feet. "And now, you'll see what I've become. What I've done."

Alastor squeezes your throat, his grip like a vice, and you can feel your airway closing. He starts to lift you higher, your feet dangling in the air, until you're staring directly into his burning red eyes. "Look at me, Y/N." His grip tightens, his other hand coming up to grip your hair, forcing your head back. "I want you to see the monster I've become, the monster that will never let you go." His voice is a guttural growl, his breath hot against your face.

“I could never love a monster.” You manage to choke out. He drops you unceremoniously to the ground, leaving you gasping. "Love?" He spits the word like it's poison. "Love is a weakness I can no longer afford. But you, my dear Y/N, you're my eternal obsession." You take off the ring and throw it into a nearby drain. He watches as the gold band spins and disappears down into the sewer. Alastor’s expression darkens. "You shouldn't have done that."

He slowly walks over to you, his movements predatory. "That ring was a symbol of our love. Now, it's a symbol of your disrespect." Alastor summons one of his tentacles, which retrieves the ring and places it into his hand. He forces the ring back onto your finger, his tentacle squeezing your hand until the metal bites into your skin. "It stays on your finger, a constant reminder of your love for me, and my ownership over you." He releases your hand, stepping back to admire the ring.

You try to remove the ring, but it won't budge. He chuckles as you try to remove the ring, his magic holding it firmly in place. "My power—among other things—has enchanted the ring to stay on your finger until I decide otherwise. And I have no intention of removing it anytime soon." He reaches out to stroke your cheek. Alastor caresses your cheek, his touch gentle despite the rough texture of his skin. "You're mine, Y/N. In life, in death, and in this endless nothingness between." He leans in closer, inhaling deeply.

"You still wear the same perfume. Lavender and vanilla." This only makes you angrier. “It’s not for you.” You spit at him. "Always so defiant." He pulls you into a tight hug, his tentacles wrapping around you like chains. "I love it when you fight back." Alastor tightens his grip, his muscular arms constricting around your body. "Shhh, just relax." He nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I've missed holding you like this. Your struggles only make it better."

He teleports you to his bed, falling onto it with you still wrapped in his tentacles. He pins your arms above your head, his tail wrapping around your legs to keep them open. "You're so beautiful when you're helpless." Alastor grins wickedly, his eyes flashing with a predatory hunger. "I'm going to savor every moment of having you at my mercy again." His free hand roams your body, squeezing and caressing. "And you'll learn to love it, just like before."

"Remember the good times, Y/N?" He grinds himself against you, his hard length evident through his trousers. "Remember how we used to spend our nights?” He leans in and kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You give into the kiss. He withdraws from the kiss, smiling as he sees the change in your expression. "Good girl." He releases your arms, his tentacles keeping your legs spread wide. "Leave the ring on." He unbuckles his pants, his member springing free.

Alastor settles himself between your thighs, the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance. "Wrap your arms around my neck." He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "And tell me you love me." His tail coils possessively around your legs, his muscles taut with anticipation. You do as he asks, wrapping your arms around him, and whispering an ‘I love you’ into his ear. Satisfied, he pushes forward, sheathing himself inside you in one powerful thrust. "Fuck, I've missed this." He buries his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he starts to move, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm.

"You feel so good..." He hisses, his voice low and feral. His tentacles crawling up your body to hold your arms down again. "You're mine, Y/N. All mine." He increases his pace, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Alastor lifts your hips to give him deeper access. "Say you love me." He growls, his voice hoarse with desire. You cry out.

At the sound of your cry, Alastor loses control. He pounds into you relentlessly, his member throbbing inside you as he reaches his climax. Alastor roars as he releases a torrent of cum deep within your pussy. “Mine." His tentacles squeeze you tightly as he rides out his orgasm, his tail thrashing wildly. His hot seed filling your womb as his tentacles tighten their grip. He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving. Alastor’s tentacles loosen their grip, but still keep you pinned. "You're perfect." He murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. His softening member still inside you, plugging his seed in your pussy.

Alastor slowly pulls out, his cum dripping from your well-used hole. He scoops some up with his fingers and pushes it back inside you. "Keep my seed inside you." Alastor commands, a dark glint in his eye. "I want to make sure it takes." He murmurs. “What?” You ask confused. He grins wickedly, his eyes filled with dark amusement. "I think it's time we start a family, Y/N. A little demonling running around will keep me entertained when you're not around." He crawls back on top of you, his arms wrapping around your waist possessively.

You knew what this meant. This was Alastor’s way of tying you down. Making sure you couldn't escape. You had absolutely no choice in the matter. The only answer Alastor would accept is ‘yes.’

You groaned. “Do I have a choice?” The answer was no. You knew it. Alastor chuckles, his warm breath fanning over your face. "No, you don't. You're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure my seed takes root in your womb. Now, be a good girl and get comfortable."

Alastor nuzzles into your neck, his hands wandering over your body possessively. "Because I'm going to keep you pinned down and spend the rest of the day filling you with my seed until you're pregnant, and I want you to be comfortable while I breed you.” You are shocked. “What?” Your emotions are conflicting you. “I want to make sure there's no doubt that you're carrying my child." Alastor responds. You were in for a long night.

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acotarxreader · 4 months ago

Text

Swept Away

Cassian x Reader, Rhysand's sister

Synopsis: Cassian is growing desperate to make his feelings about you known but Rhysand is ever protective of his little sister.

Warnings: Silly, Angst, pining, blood, a creep in a bar, poor Azriel wing-manning like nobody's business, protective Cassian, overprotective Rhysand

A/N: A Cassian fic because it has been some time since he's been featured on the blog. I hope you guys enjoy this silly lil guy. Please forgive any mistakes in this, I wrote it while not feeling the best.

-------------------------------------------------

Cassian stood at the edge of one of the Windhaven training rings, his two brothers sparring across the mud. To the untrained eye, they looked as though they were gonna kill one another but Cassian knew this was all just goofing around. He felt his heart vibrate off his ribcage, waiting for Rhysand to tire himself out enough that he wouldn’t chase and mangle him for the question he was going to ask. He counted through his breaths, forcing himself to focus on releasing the stress from his chest. They finally stopped their clashing, neither conceding but both ready for dinner, calling a truce as they bellowed out brotherly laughter.

“Hey Cass, ready for the mixer tonight?” Rhysand wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm, gratefully taking the cup of water offered by Azriel.

“Oh yeah yeah, very excited, have a good session?” he spoke quickly, eager to get the words out of him before he lost his nerve.

“Definitely, I feel on cloud 9 now”

“Good, good, soooo just letting you know-I’m-going-to-ask-YN-out-tonight-after-the-mixer-okay-bye!” Cassian vibrated out before spinning on his heel and moving to bolt away.

“Oh fuck” Azriel whispered as Rhysand caught hold of Cassian's shoulder, turning him back to face him. In hindsight, maybe saying this to Rhysand when he was pumped full of testosterone wasn’t the correct call Cassain thought.

“Sorry Cass, I think I hallucinated, what did you say?” “I’m going to ask YN out”

“No, you’re not” A laugh left Rhysand as he released his shoulder and loosened the belt of blades slung around him.

“Why not?” Azriel inhaled a breath that sounded like “here we go” at Cassian's question.

“She’s my sister, so she’s like your sister, it's like illegal or something” Cassian scoffed a laugh at Rhysand’s half-answer.

“Except the four of us aren’t actually siblings and the sentiment is nice and all but I’m not her brother, I want to ask her out, nothing creepy about it” Rhysand’s turn to laugh at Cassian, shoving him back lightly at the words and leaning down to loosen his training boots.

“Nah Cass, forget it, move on, I forbid it”

“You what?” he bit out in return, Azriel’s eyes darting between the two, this was going to turn into another savage argument, he could see it.

“Right, let's leave it there-” Azriel tried but was almost immediately cut off by Rhysand.

“-Yeah, I forbid it. I don’t want things to get messy”

“They won’t, I think we would be- “-Forget it Cass, enough drama was caused with Mor-” Azriel took a sharp inhale at Rhysand’s low blow, the two males began to square up to one another just as you called from the sidelines.

“Hey! Come on, start getting ready, have a bath before the smell poisons the flowers” you beamed, raising an eyebrow at Azriel at the weird energy. He just shook his head at you not to get involved. Your gaze separated the two males, both storming away to their quarters.

“Fuckers always leave me to tidy up” Azriel signed, picking up the kit the three had used in training.

—---------------------------------------------

The howling Winter wind ripped through the hills of the Illyrian mountains, coursing through Windhaven. You looked out through the living room window of the place you called home in this unforgiving climate.

“YN? Are you okay?” Your brother whispered from the front door as he shook off the biting snow.

“I’m fine Rhys, how was the mixer?”

“Unsurprisingly violent-” He laughed, a small smile growing on your face at the sound “-Are you sure you’re okay? You look as though you are going to run away” Rhysand laughed again to cover his rising worry.

“Nothing to concern yourself with Rhys, I’m going to just go read in my room” You tried your best to beam back in your usual way to him, rising from the window seat and wandering to your room down the hall. Rhysand questioned whether or not he should follow you, deciding to return to bed and inquire further in the morning.

You stared up at the ceiling, the clock yearning to strike midnight as you sighed. You quietly strapped on your shoes and sheathed yourself in your thickest jacket. You ever so gently lifted the sash window of your ground-level room and slipped out into the night, knowing your brother and mother would go feral with the knowledge of you going into the Illyrian camp unattended at night, despite your own strength.

You moved through the shadows of the grey mountain stone buildings, dipping out of the sight of passing party-worn Illyrians until you found yourself wandering down the disused service lane heading in the direction of the closest village. The chill sent shapes of cold down your spine as you fought the feeling of watching wild eyes from the deep thick woods the lane cut through. Your wings clung tight to your back trying to draw any ounce of warmth possible. You stopped and stretched before launching into your routine jogging trailing along the outskirts of the busy village, a relaxed breath releasing the stress.

Swirled in your own deep thoughts, the sudden weight thrown into your side caught you entirely off guard as you instinctively screamed. A hand wrapped tightly around your jaw preventing further alarm from being raised in your desperate shouts.

The wooded path grew thicker and thicker the further you were hauled into the woods, worst-case scenarios dancing across your mind. The movement suddenly stopped as you felt the solid thud of the body of a tree meeting your back, you forced your eyes open to meet your perpetrator.

“Boo”

“GODS! YOU FUCKING JERK CASSIAN!” You pushed Cassian backwards and almost off his feet while lashing him with your hands into his shoulder blades while he hunched over howling laughing.

“Your face!” he managed between laughs, half choking.

“Don’t do that to me! I thought it was one of the trainee warriors trying to earn his stripes!”

“Don't even joke about that YN, I’d kill them where they stood” his suddenly serious tone cut through you before you smiled at him. Cassian seemingly remembered the fright he gave you, returning to his laughter as you both strolled back towards the path.

“I’ll walk you back YN, protect you from-”

“-From psychopaths who might sweep me away into the woods?!” you cut across him, now both laughing into the freezing night.

“Why are you out so late anyway? Your mother and Rhys would be very unhappy with you”

“I could say the same to you” You raised an eyebrow to the warrior.

“I had business, I care not to go further into it with a Lady” he faux bowed towards you, gaining an eye-roll from you.

“Seriously YNN, what’s with the twilight running?”

“Nothing really”

“Tell me or I’ll start singing” You gave a sceptical look towards your dear friend before he took a deep inhale and belted half a note of pure torture, your hand covering his mouth at the release of the crow song.

“Okay okay!” You laughed, pulling back your hand “-I was actually… I was actually thinking of going home to Velaris” You admitted, ending the momentary comfortable silence that bounced off the ancient trees. Cassian pursed his lips in thought, trying his best to not show all his cards, a futile attempt.

“This is why we can’t be together YNN, so hung up on the glitz and glamour of city life, can't appreciate the wild”

“I’m pretty sure the reason we can't be together is that I don’t like you” Cassain put his hand to his chest feigning hurt, you scoffed at your long-time friend before continuing along the path.

“No more nightly running alone YN, seriously dangerous especially for precious cargo like a High Lord's daughter, someone might take you as their chance to prove themselves and then I’ll have to commit murder and I don’t like my leathers to get messy” he ran a hand through his hair as you fought the urge to shove him again.

“Aw you think I’m precious” you sarcastically shot back

“The most precious thing we have in this dump” his sincere tone ringing through you.

“We'll leave here someday Cass, get on with our real lives”

“We?”

“Well yeah I'm going to need someone to carry my bags” you smirk and he nudges you across the snowy path.

“Can't leave my partner in crime behind me now can I?” His genuine smile of gratitude made you feel warm. He always did. No one could quite understand him like you. The subtle glow of the training camp in the far distance came into view and you sighed at the sight.

“Come on Cass, come get a drink in the village, I don’t want to head back just yet” he nodded to your great idea as you looped your arm through his for warmth and sauntered back towards the village.

—----------------------

The village bar was heaving with Fae, all deeply relying on the crutch of alcohol to soothe their woes. You attempted to play snooker with Cassian, well beyond the scope of your ability. After playing and losing a few rounds with him, you sat at the bar away from his ridicule, allowing him to play more challenging opponents.

You sat cross-legged on the bar stool absent-mindedly tracing circles along the rim of your glass of caramel colour liquor. A rough hand found its way to your thigh, snapping your attention to the wall-like Fae it belonged to.

“He-y it's the Night’s se-xy daughteeer, hey baaaby” The slur of words matched the smothering stench of centuries of whiskey leaving his wrinkled mouth.

“Um Hi” You pushed his hand down roughly before it returned just as quickly and much higher, now squeezing your thigh making you tense. The much older Fae came closer to your face, leaning and whispering drunken inappropriate schemes in your ear. You scoffed in utter disgust, shoving him completely back from you.

“Hey Prin-cess, you don’t fucking do that! Come here!” He almost spat at you, roughly catching you by the waist and pulling you off the stool. His fingers buried into your skin and you found it difficult to slip out of his vice-grip-like hands.

A hand laid flat on his shoulder from behind as he grunted to being interrupted. He turned to meet Cassian fist straight into his glass jaw sending him cold to the floor. You found yourself gasping, no one else reacting in the busy bar used to Illyrian antics.

“Cassian!”

“Come on, we’re going” he caught your wrist and pulled you from the bar, stepping over the creep's body as you were pulled along. You hurriedly slipped on your jacket, the freezing breeze of the night burning your skin as you were pulled into the baltic night.

“Cass, slow down, you're going to take my arm out of the socket” you groaned at the slight pain he was causing you as you found it difficult to keep up with his rapid pace back down the service lane.

“Such a fucking asshole”

“I was handling it Cass!”

“Oh yeah YN, really looked like that” you huffed at his sarcasm, anger growing in both of you the further you got from the bar.

“Get off my case fucking hell”

“He could have run off with you”

“So?! What does it even matter to you?! Seriously Cass, slow down, you're not racing a Naga!”

“It does matter to me! I don’t want some ancient creep all over you” Cassian continued his marching in front of you, your wrist firmly caught.

“You're the same when any male talks to me! You’re worse than Rhys!” You were sick of it, sick of being treated like some wounded bird they needed to protect, the thought caused the anger to grow in Cassian.

“THAT'S BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ANY MALE TALKING TO YOU LIKE THAT!”

“WHY!? WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER YOU!” Cassian suddenly dug his heels into the snow causing you to crash into the back of him giving you a bit of a fright. Cassian span around, releasing your wrist in exchange for your hips, your hands instinctively draping across his shoulders as he pulls you forward in the falling snow to meet your lips hungrily. The cold was leached from your bodies as you basked in the glow of one another.

“Cass you just kissed me”

“I just kissed you” You both had shock painting your faces before locking eyes and reconnecting hungrily again.

“If anyone touches you like that again I’ll kill them” You nodded quickly to his protective stern words, kissing him deeply again.

“Ahem” Azriel’s voice separated you both as he stood with hands on his hips glaring at the two of you, clearly having just been out for his own run along the service lane.

“Az-” He only raised a gloved hand to you.

“I don’t want to know any of the goings on between you two, ever, it will make me an accessory to a murder when Rhysand finds out” You both nodded slowly in reply before Azriel dragged a hand down his face.

“Now, the three of us are going to walk home and the three of us will never speak about this again” Azriel continued, gesturing with his arm for you to walk ahead. You looked from Cassian to the Shadowsinger who only raised an eyebrow, you sighed before following his direction and walking ahead of the two.

“You’re a dead man Cass” Azriel whispered once you were out of earshot.

“I know” “What is with you and their family, next thing you’ll be sleeping with Rhysand’s mother” “How do you know that didn’t already happen” Cassian was fighting for his life to bring back an air of silliness to the night and Azriel happily obliged, shoving his smirking brother across the path.

“This is different Az” he rejoined his side quickly.

“I know, it’s always been different between you two, doesn’t mean your funeral will be any less of a sure thing” The Shadowsinger smirked.

—-----------------------

The next couple of weeks became like a full-time job for Azriel and he wasn’t sure exactly when he had interviewed for the job. He spent a large amount of his free time running interference for you and Cassian, distracting Rhysand to allow you both to steal away moments together. It was beginning to exhaust him not to mention sicken him that he spent so much time focusing on Cassian’s love life that he forgot his own.

The four of you sat around the corner table of the very tavern that three months previously you had been pursued. Azriel sat next to Rhysand as if by chance but very much planned so that you and Cassian may sit next to each other.

“So anyways we’ve been sleeping together for some time now but I think it’s time to cut her loose-” Rhysand beamed at the telling of his conquests while you fought the urge to roll your eyes at your brother's hypocrisy “-What about you Cass? Any lovely ladies on the go?” Rhysand innocently questioned before taking a deep drink.

“Ehh yeah I suppose you could say that” Your chin sank to your chest, attempting to bury the wide grin on your face.

“Well go on, tell us about her” Rhysand pried, Azriel’s eyes trying to find anywhere else to look at other than the red on Cassian’s cheeks” “I don’t think-” “-Oh come on Cass, since when have you been coy about your conquests?”

“Cauldron boil me” Azriel whispered under his breath, your foot sharply meeting his shin.

“I just think I should keep that private” Cassian spoke over Azriels audible pain. “From me? I heard you tell Azriel that you never wanted to leave the bed with this mystery female, so how come I’m not privy to the information?” You took a deep swig at your brother's playful prying, wishing the ground to swallow you up.

“I just don’t think you’d want to hear about-” “-I clearly do, tell me, tell me about this so-called best sex you’ve ever had, how you make her c-” “-For all that is good and Gods given Rhysand please do not finish that sentence!” Azriel cut across quickly as you inhaled your drink, choking slightly. Cassian rapidly tapped your back as Azriel and Rhysand began to bicker.

“Are you okay?” Cassian whispered to you, searching your greying face for colour as it flushed back to your cheeks. He took your hand softly under the table, his thumb sending soothing circles across your skin. You looked up to Cassian with your glassy eyes, a small smile growing on your face at the look of adoration you received. The two of you looked quickly then to the silence that leaked from the other side of the table. Rhysand looked between the two of you, his own face now looking like he had been the one starved of air. Azriel covered his eyes with a hand, trying to think of any way to come back from this and what was about to happen. The table fell to an almost unnerving silence as Rhysand processed in real time before an equally unnerving laugh left him.

“Oh no no no no” he shook his head while laughing, you glancing worriedly to Cassian at your brother's seemingly newfound deliria.

“Rhysand…” You tried but your brother just kept shaking his head while laughing.

“Oh no no no no” His laugh only got louder, Azriel daring to look at the Son of Night from behind his hand.

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start” Azriel whispered across the table to Cassian who looked bewildered at the reaction. Rhysand rolled up his sleeves, his laughing continuing as he took a deep drink from his tall glass.

“Maybe 10 seconds” Azriel added, Cassian needing no further invitation to bolt away. He made it as far as the edge of the village before Rhysand came in hot from behind him, you and Azriel trailing desperately.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Rhysand bellowed, tackling Cassian to the ground as they rolled in the slush of the last snow of Winter.

“Rhys stop!” You went to separate them, Azriel pulling you back to his side.

“Just, just leave them go YNN” he sighed, knowing this was years in the making. The two warriors rolled, Rhysand attempting to deliver blows that Cassian blocked.

“Rhys-I’m-sorry!” Cassian managed through dodges.

“My sister!”

“Yes! Your sister! But my love! I love her!” Cassian rasped out, Rhysand’s hand finding his brother's throat as he gained the upper hand from above him. Rhysand released an ounce of pressure he had on the Illyrian before shooting a glance at you, a clear look of horror on your face. Rhysand allowed all the air from his lungs go before standing again, Cassian attempted to stand, only to meet the floor again with a shove from the future High Lord. He stayed down, thinking that was the best port of call.

“YN, really?” “Really” You found your own confidence, striding over the Cassian to meet his side on your knees.

“How long?”

“Three…almost four months” You admitted to your brother, pulling bits of moss from Cassian’s hair.

“Four months?! And no one had any idea?” Azriel averted his eyes at Rhysand’s questioning.

“We just wanted to see if it was serious before stressing you out Rhys” Cassain ran a sleeve over his bloodied lip.

“And this is-this is serious? You’re not just fucking around Cassian because I swear to the Gods I will-” “-This isn’t fucking around Rhys, I love her” Cassian interrupted Rhysand’s worry. He wandered in a small circle, arms behind his back as he tilted his chin to the stars once again, taking a deep breath of the changing seasonal air.

“Okay” Rhysand finally rocked his head back down to look at the two of you.

“Just to say Rhys, I don’t care if you are okay or not with this, I love Cassian too and I don’t care if you are okay with it-” “-YN” Cassian dragged out your name like a whining child who was trying to stop the class pet from reminding the teacher about a test.

“But, thank you” You kissed the top of Cassian’s head, his lip stitching together from the blowout.

“Oh Gods don’t do that in front of me!” Rhysand looked to the sky, the two of you laughing up at him.

“Oh please Rhys, that’s nothing, these two would make you sick” Azriel laughed before the smile completely fell from his face.

“You knew?” Rhysand glared towards the Shadowsinger.

“I ehh-” “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start my friend” Cassian laughed up from the slush-turned mud. Azriel gave a panicked laugh before meeting Rhysand’s serious eyes.

“He’s the one doing your sister!” “Az! Traitor” You chuckled, Rhysand still not removing his eyes from Azriel until he shot off into the woods, Rhysand hot on his heels. You helped Cassian to stand again before walking hand in hand in the direction of home, happy to have that weight off your chests and happier to hold one another's weight in your arms.

--------------------------------------------

405 notes · View notes

val-made-a-mistake · 1 year ago

Note

Currently imagining a scenario where you and Eddie have some sort of split custody arrangement for Venom, and you have some sort of NSFW dream about Eddie, and Venom sees the whole thing because of brain link or whatever, and then shares this exciting development with Eddie the next time he's bonded to Venom

venom is definitely not one to keep a secret, for sure 😭 thank you so much for your request, i hope you enjoy. :) smut-wise, it's a bit more focused on eddie than my previous fics where it was either symbiote-focused or an even split, hope that's okay. this was SO much fun to write!

warnings: brief smut, mentions of oral f receiving, mentions of "striking" the reader but it's totally a misunderstanding, loneliness, mentions of eating people/murder

word count: 3.3k

//////

It had been six days since Eddie had left for Seattle, and honestly, you hadn’t been expecting to fall into this loneliness so quickly. Venom might have been keeping you company by providing you with an endless stream of commentary in your inner conscience, and the chickens were constantly squawking and squabbling and wandering the length of the apartment as per usual, so it wasn’t like the space was totally silent, but still, Eddie’s absence was more saddening than you thought it would be. Over the course of the six days, you struggled to busy yourself. Of course you preferred Eddie having a job as to being without one, but one thing you particularly hated was how vague investigative jobs were, so as a result, you had no idea when he would come back or how long the work would take to be done.

For the time being, it looked like you were stuck here.

Before he’d left, Eddie had asked you to babysit Venom and his apartment, and now that you’d been here for an extended amount of time, you felt horribly restless.

Feeling the weight of the quiet apartment settling in, you cast a glance around the room. The hum of the refrigerator seemed to amplify in the sort-of silence, and you found yourself drawn to staring at Eddie's belongings scattered around.

Your gaze fell on a framed photograph on the shelf – Eddie with a carefree grin, arm slung around your shoulders. The memories flooded back, and a bittersweet smile touched your lips.

As if sensing your thoughts, Venom's voice rumbled in your mind.

EDDIE IS DEFINITELY MISSING OUT WITHOUT US AROUND.

The symbiote's attempt at comfort was appreciated, but it only deepened your sense of solitude.

Sighing you folded yourself into a ball on the couch, tucking your chin into your knees. The TV in front of you was off, and you had no intention to turn it on. For now, it was okay to mull in the quiet.

You mumbled into your knees, “What do you think he's up to in Seattle?"

CATCHING BAD GUYS. KICKING BUTT. EATING SEATTLE FOOD. ZOOMING AROUND. ACTING PATHETIC WITHOUT US THERE.

“V, you and I don’t know anything about investigative journalism,” you put in gently.

Venom was, of course, offended.

I KNOW A LOT ABOUT EATING BAD GUYS!

“Yeah, but Eddie won’t let you eat bad guys in Seattle any more than he does here.”

It was at that moment that Venom popped out from your shoulder blade, miniature head scowling.

HE SHOULD!

“Wanna go get a bite to eat?” you interjected, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll even let you drive, if you want.”

Venom grinned much too wide for his intentions to be anything but nefarious, so you quickly added, “No eating people.”

You turned fast and pointed to the pizza box sign in the kitchen. “Eddie might not be here, but that rule’s definitely still active while you’re in my body, okay?”

Venom, for lack of a better word with his gaping mouth full of super-sized fangs, pouted.

YOU ARE NO FUN!

I just don’t want to be involved in any murder, you wanted to say, but slimy, black, glittering goo was already wrapping and contorting around your middle. Venom was enveloping you, taking over.

It was a bit of an unpleasant sensation as Venom’s monstrous gooey head locked into place over where yours used to be, and rows of impressive fangs unfolded in your suddenly super-sized mouth. It felt like somebody had cracked an egg over your head and the yolk was dripping down your body. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. You had no idea how Eddie put up with it.

For how quickly his annoyance started, Venom seemed to get over it pretty quickly. He grinned and licked his lips.

I WOULD LIKE TO GO TO MCDONALDS.

//////

The room was shrouded in the quiet stillness of the night. The dim glow of a bedside lamp cast a warm pool of light on the walls, creating a cozy haven within the four corners of Eddie’s bedroom. You were in bed. Venom, for the first time that day, was quiet.

Under the soft blanket, your eyelids were growing heavy with the weight of the day's endeavours. You still missed Eddie, a lot, so much that your nightly FaceTime call almost wasn’t enough. Seeing his face on your laptop screen was just a further reminder of how far two states away felt, and how binded you felt to him since you met him — he pulled at you without even realizing it, like you’d been sewn together with invisible thread.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be in Seattle for too much longer.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to synchronize with the slowing pace of your breath. As the minutes ticked away, you found yourself on the threshold of the dream world, caught between wakefulness and the gentle pull of slumber. Not even the distant murmur of passing cars was enough to distract you now.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the sensation of falling asleep, gently gliding down into the abyss of dreams. Eddie’s bedroom, once familiar and defined, now blurred at the edges, transforming into a surreal landscape of colours and shapes.

As you drifted further into the realms of slumber, a sensation of weightlessness enveloped you. It was as if you were floating on a sea of tranquility, carried away by the ebb and flow of your own breath. The boundaries between reality and imagination began to dissolve, and the world outside melted.

//////

Sometime between now and then, you’d ended up bent over in Eddie’s lap, on a couch that felt just like his couch, but was ambiguous enough that it could’ve been anywhere. Things were slightly blurry around the edges, surreal enough to have you breathless, but real enough that you weren’t questioning your surroundings.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed as he tilted his head, carefully examining the swelling ass on his lap. Your pussy was dripping, there was a dribble of arousal forming, but in all honesty, he was a little scared to touch you, he didn’t want to hurt you. “I don’t think I’m getting a finger in there, girl. Wow.”

“Luckily, I’m not that fragile,” you responded playfully as you arched your back for him. Eddie bit his lip as this only accentuated the curve of your ass.

“God,” he whispered as he ran a hand up your thigh: he was able to break them apart easily, and he pulled one leg over his lap, wedging you firmly between his legs.

Even though you were already soaking wet, Eddie’s fingers ran over your dripping slit for a moment, as if he were admiring the way your pussy fluttered at his touch in front of him.

God, you could just feel how wet you were, and you bit your lip, anticipating for Eddie to lean forward, and—

Y/N!!!

In an instant you’d jumped awake: you’d sprang to attention without really realizing how you’d done it, scrambling for the lamp. “What’s going on?”

Venom was protruding from your shoulderblade again, bouncing even more than normal, very clearly in extreme distress.

SWEET GIRL. WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS.

You stifled your yawn with your hand. “V, do you mean, like - like a dream?”

WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS! RECEIVING VISIONS OF EDDIE EATING YOU! THIS IS VERY SERIOUS! WE NEED TO KEEP YOU SAFE!

Your cheeks instantly warmed, and you froze, scrambling for something to say. “Oh - oh, shit, Venom - that - I’m so sorry, but I really don’t think that was what you think it was.”

HE WAS STRIKING YOU! Venom snapped.

Oh my god. He really saw all of that.

You reached for the water bottle on your nightstand. “V, you seriously don’t need to worry about this. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Nothing bad will come from it."

Venom was, of course, still hysterical.

IT WAS A PROPHECY! THIS IS BAD!

I wouldn’t mind if it was a prophecy, you thought selfishly before you could stop yourself, but you shoved it down. “Everything’s alright, Venom. Okay? Everything's fine. Let’s just go back to bed.”

I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR CARING ABOUT YOU, Y/N.

You were already sliding back under the blanket. “I’m not asking you to, V. I appreciate it.”

You hesitated.

“Just, uh, next time you’re bonded to Eddie, please don’t tell him about this, okay? It could make him - I don't know, uncomfortable. You know, I - I don’t know how he’d react to the prophecy of him supposedly hurting me, that’s all. I don’t want to worry him.”

(You were hoping wildly that he would accept, and you and Venom would never talk about this again.)

In a move you’d never seen before, Venom raised one gloopy, black tentacle towards you, and recognizing the movement, you extended your pinky towards him. Your pinky and the black goo linked together for a moment, signifying your trust.

Venom grinned, now bouncing significantly less.

I NEVER BREAK A PINKY PROMISE, SWEET GIRL.

You raised your eyebrow.

I TRY NOT TO.

You were much too tired for any of this, you simply turned over to switch off the lamp and finally return to whatever remnants of that dream was left. “Okay then. Goodnight, V.”

//////

It was satisfying to have everything fall back into the natural order once Eddie returned home from Seattle. You returned to your own apartment on the opposite side of town, but of course visited frequently, and Eddie was grateful to be back in a low-stakes environment once more, with a snarky symbiote that would terrify anyone who would try to harm him. Seattle had been thrilling, and he'd recounted the adventure to you several times, but now he was back to something familiar.

The job was done. He was covered for the time being. Freelancing was difficult, but for now, everything would be okay.

In the intervening time, Venom talked about you, a lot. Ever since he met you, he’d taken to mentioning you. But ever since you’d agreed to split custody of the symbiote, and especially since Eddie had disappeared for Seattle, he was talking about you even more.

I AM WORRIED ABOUT Y/N, he said one day.

Eddie was idly clicking through TV channels, watching everything from the news to a police drama to a basketball game zoom past, finding none of them interesting. “Why?”

I DO NOT WANT ANY BAD OMENS TO BE FOLLOWING HER. WE NEED TO KEEP HER SAFE.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, a bit confused.

Venom suddenly popped out of his shoulder, howling.

SHE - SHE HAS -

Before Venom could get any actual words out, Eddie was lifted from the couch as the symbiote rose and slammed his head into the ceiling, denting it severely and sending bits of drywall raining down from the heavens like it was a form of self-punishment.

As quickly as it started, Eddie had been dropped on the couch, red in the face and gasping for air.

Venom hardly noticed: he seemed to be in extreme distress.

I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL!

Eddie put a hand to his throat, still sweaty and gasping, forcing an inhale. “V - what?”

Venom was beside himself, now.

Y/N IS RECEIVING VISIONS! VISIONS OF YOU!

"Visions? What do you mean, visions of me?" Eddie asked, his concern deepening. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling half-strangled anymore. His mind was racing, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and worry. "What kind of visions? Is she in danger?"

He couldn't fathom what could be causing you to have distressing dreams about him.

Right after Seattle? Right after he thought the work was finished?

I DO NOT KNOW. BUT WE MUST PROTECT HER.

Without waiting for further response, Venom oozed off Eddie's shoulder and began slithering around the room, agitated.

Eddie remained on the couch, trying to process this information. "If something's going on, then we need to talk to her, right? Figure out what's happening."

I AGREE. SHE IS PART OF US, AND WE WILL NOT LET ANY HARM BEFALL HER.

He paused, awkwardly.

BUT PLEASE LET HER KNOW I AM SORRY. I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU, EDDIE. SHE SAYS SHE DOES NOT WANT TO WORRY YOU. SHE DOES NOT SHARE THE SAME CONCERN I HAVE.

It didn’t matter: Eddie was already grabbing his phone and dialling your number, fingers tapping nervously against his screen.

After a few tense rings, you picked up.

“Hey, Eddie!”

"Hey, we need to talk," Eddie said urgently, glancing at Venom, who was now wrapping himself around the coffee table, sticky and pulsating, in deep despair.

Concern filled your voice. "Is everything okay?"

“Oh, I mean, yeah, right now it is,” he responded wildly, vaguely aiming for nonchalant. “I was just talking to V, you know, and he said something, and - I just kinda wanted to call, y’know, see if you were alright-”

“Oh, I'm fine,” you confirmed, but you still sounded confused. “I don’t have anything going on today, so I’m just spending some time to myself. What did V tell you?”

Across from Eddie, Venom moaned in despair, a mere gooey black glob of depression on his sitting room floor.

SWEET GIRL, I AM SORRY!

“He said you were getting some disturbing visions, and not gonna lie, it kinda freaked me out a bit,” Eddie said sheepishly, hoping you hadn’t heard that. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay, that’s all. I know this is random. Sorry. Just, with the nature of the last case, y’know, up in Seattle-”

It didn’t take long before he realized he was rambling again about the Seattle case, so he stopped. “Sorry.”

"No, it's okay."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh.

Of course this was happening.

“Eddie, there’s been a misunderstanding,” you said. “Just, look - do you mind coming over? I’ll explain everything to you once you’re here. This might be better in person.”

Eddie was on his feet in an instant. “Sure, yeah.”

//////

Eddie rushed through the city streets, a mixture of worry and curiosity gnawing at him. Venom was bonded to him again, because he’d rather not think about the consequences of a depressed Venom lingering around the apartment while he was out, and the symbiote seemed to writhe within him with impatience. Or maybe that was just the motorbike rumbling underneath him. Whichever it was, he felt nauseous.

The symbiote had a tendency to jump to conclusions, but Eddie definitely couldn't shake the unease that settled in his gut.

Upon arriving at your apartment, Eddie knocked hastily.

To his surprise, you opened the door with a small smile.

"Hey," you greeted, ushering him inside. "Thanks for coming over."

Eddie nodded, glancing around your living room as if expecting something unusual. Venom, still on edge, clung within him like a sentient black backpack.

He didn’t want to come off as too eager, or too worried, so he just shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and hoped he looked casual despite the storm of questions brewing inside of him.

“So - what’s the deal?”

Deep inside of him, Venom was quivering with fright. As his gooey molecular form had to be closely intertwined with several of his most important organs right now, it was very hard not to notice the sensation.

You winced. “He’s just freaking out about nothing. There’s no bad omens or visions. I just had a dream, and you were in it. Simple stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

“It wasn’t a bad dream?” Eddie said, cautious.

You were definitely closer, now. “Actually, I’d say it was a pretty damn good dream.”

Eddie’s breath was caught in his throat. Out of everything that could’ve happened tonight, he definitely hadn’t been expecting…this.

He was a little confused, honestly. What was going on? The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, but he didn't feel as though he was in danger. On the contrary, he felt quite warm.

“Let me show you?” you offered.

"Okay," he bit out before he was conscious of making the decision, and you were stepping in front of him, and realizing, he closed his eyes on instinct--

The kiss that followed was absolutely dizzying.

There was something so particularly desperate about this: you were kissing, gasping against his mouth and pulling at his jacket, which made the two of you blindly scramble backwards into the apartment, messy and needy. The kiss quickly turned into a battle of control, with Eddie being the one to guide you forward, his hands on your hips. You bit his bottom lip in response, forcing him to open up and then the kiss was all about tongues, wet and sensitive.

You were on the couch when you finally broke apart, gasping.

"Baby," Eddie wheezed, his eyes darting across your face in disbelief, "I - what was that?"

"Is V with you?" you asked, instead of answering the question.

He was apprehensive now. "Yeah?"

"He needs to know I'm not in danger," you whispered, and you leaned forward to kiss him again.

It was much too chaste, and after you pulled away, Eddie was in mute astonishment for a moment.

His voice was scratchy when he spoke. "Disturbing visions, huh?"

You just smiled. "In my dream, we were on a couch, like this."

Eddie still couldn't believe this was happening. The anxiety in his gut on the way over had been completely forgotten now, blurring out of his memory, the future was an impossible thing, there was just this. This was all he had; this was all he wanted. "Were we, now?"

He didn't know what to do, but that didn't seem to matter, you were leading.

You nodded. "It was kinda hot."

"Kinda?" Eddie repeated dumbly, breathless. His voice sounded like a stranger's.

Before he could embarrass himself, Venom's voice rumbled within him, frustrated.

EDDIE, STOP BEING A PUSSY!

Wondering vaguely if this had been a trap all along, Eddie grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Your mouths roved together, and he took the opportunity to pull you over, closer to him. The curve of your bare spine was warm from under your sweater. He kept his hand there, roaming carelessly, drifting up to the clasp of your bra.

You seemed to get what he was going for, and then suddenly you were straddling him, and with you on top of him, he could no longer ignore how interested his dick was in the proceedings.

Slightly, just slightly, you rolled your hips against his clothed crotch, and Eddie choked out a moan.

Oh, fuck. He could feel the sweat materializing and running down his back. This was better than good.

(Venom was definitely going to tease him about this later.)

"What happened next?" Eddie mumbled, looking up at you, his eyes blown black.

You smiled, then crossed your arms and peeled off your sweater. Eddie shifted his grip, holding you by the hips again, and you tossed your sweater elsewhere.

Venom was going absolutely insane from inside him: it felt like he was rumbling somewhere around his large intestine.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP, EDDIE!

Meanwhile, you were, of course, oblivious to the commentary in Eddie's mind.

"I mean," you said, and your voice wasn't smoky like it had been before. It was just curious, with a note of teasing, like this was an everyday conversation. "You ate me out."

He pressed a light kiss to your throat. "Then flip over, baby."

Inside his head, Venom seemed to be having some kind of meltdown. Maybe he had just realized what the dream was. Maybe he was jealous. Either way, he was rambling in Eddie's mind.

SWEET GIRL - SO FRAGILE - SO SWEET - SO DELICIOUS - I NEED TO TASTE -

#venom #venom smut #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock smut #eddie brock x reader smut #venom x reader smut #tom hardy #venom 2 #venom movie #venom let there be carnage #venom symbiote #venom imagine #venom 3

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rememberwren · 6 months ago

Text

A Complete Set (Whatever That Means) || 1

This is a direct sequel to Skin Deep which can be read here. From now on I'm splitting up any one shot that is longer than 10k. So here is part one of this sequel. 6k.

Johnny pierces fem!reader’s nipples.

About this: at least five nipples in this one, an altogether questionable use for a sequel, nipple play, graphic depiction of nipple piercings, alcohol, jealous!soap, spoilers in the 'about this' section, iffy writing. Reader has enough hair to “hold back” and height difference necessitates that she “looks up” to speak to Simon.

Thirty minutes waiting for Green Jade Chinese takeout when you’re only a block from the restaurant is a crime. It’s even more of a crime when it’s thirty minutes spent away from Ghost—whose name you have learned is Simon. Laying on the sofa in Skin Deep, your stomach gives another shameful growl. You glance at the clock on your phone, hoping he hasn’t run into trouble…though you’re not sure there’s much in the way of trouble that Simon couldn’t handle.

The bell over the door rings, and you sit up, smile blooming in anticipation.

“Hey youuu–fuck!” you nearly shriek.

Standing in the doorway is a man who is decidedly not Simon, though there are similarities. They are both tall (though Simon must stand a hand taller), and broad (this bloke’s biceps are threatening the sleeves of his t-shirt as he crosses his arms across his chest), but that is where the similarities end. Where Simon is pale and blond, this man is tan and brunet, his hair a cropped mohawk that looks soft to brush one's fingers through.

Looking over his shoulder is a beautiful woman with braids that drip down to her shoulder blades.

“I tend to have that effect on women,” he says, glancing back at her.

“I can imagine,” she says, no small hint of flirtation in her voice.

“Um. Sorry, but there aren’t any walk-ins,” you remind them. The sign had been right bloody there. Could they not read? A more important question: were they murderers looking for their next victim? In the city, one could never know if a person was malevolent or just stupid.

“Where’s the big guy?” the man asks. He holds up a hand a few inches above his head. “Tall. Devastatingly handsome. Monosyllabic.”

“He should be back any minute.” That’s what you’re supposed to say, right? You always let the murderers know that time is not on their side; no inconvenient prey here. Try again elsewhere. “Maybe you two could wait outside.”

The man does a neat little trick with his tongue, flashing a silver barbell piercing at you like a calling card. “I’m the piercer, lass. I own forty-nine percent of the business. Let Ghost know I’m back with a client, alright? Nice meetin’ you.”

The two of them disappear together behind the curtain at the back of the shop, leaving you hoping that a small hole will open up directly beneath your coordinates and swallow you whole. Hopefully it will leave the shop intact. Maybe you had the time to let Simon know not to look for your body—

The bell rings again, and this time it is Simon, his mask still pulled up over his nose and mouth, one paper bag of fragrant Chinese food tucked under his arm. He takes in the sight of you with your head in your hands, elbows on your knees and approaches with caution.

“What’s this?” he wonders out loud. He sets down the bag and tears it open: egg drop soup, pork fried rice, crab rangoon. All your favorite goodies. A feminine giggle is heard from the back of the shop and he sighs, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.“Soap. What’d he say to you?”

“Nothing. I just put my foot in my mouth.”

“Yer a flexible one, aren’t you.”

“Just in that one, very specific way, trust me,” you say, accepting the disposable chopsticks he hands you. You break them apart and go looking amongst the packages of food for your rice. “I mistook him for a client and asked him to wait outside.”

Simon sucks on his teeth, a sure-fire sign that he is trying not to laugh.

You launch a chopstick at him, scoffing when he catches it nimbly out of the air and offers it back to you.

“Careful with that,” he says solemnly. “Could have taken my fuckin’ eye out.”

In the back, a scream rings out. You jerk, nearly upending the rice in your lap. Under his breath, Simon mutters: “Always Soap with the screamers.”

That night, the two of you fuck at his flat. He puts you on top of him, where you can control how deep the penetration is, and it gives you a chance to explore the angles that you never really had a chance to explore with other partners. With others, it had been a race: rushing toward some blissful edge, hurrying to get them (and if you were lucky, yourself) off as quickly as possible. With Simon, you were just discovering that sex could be fun; sex could be slow; sex could end with no one orgasming and it could still change your life.

He is an excellent sport while you ride him, his eyes quiet and soft in a way they aren’t when you’re outside of his flat together, when the mask is on and pulled up into place. If he weren’t so fucking put together, you might say that he were pussy drunk. As it is, he stays still, hands kneading your thighs until you nearly get a cramp in your hip and then he sits up, guiding you off of him and back into the bedsheets, laying face to face to fuck you in a way that is so painfully intimate it makes you want to shut your eyes.

Afterwards, you curl up against his side and find yourself playing with his nipple piercing. He’s got cute nipples: small and pink as his mouth. The barbell is black, a nice contrast to his skin tone. He watches you sometimes, other times letting his eyes fall shut.

“Did this hurt?” you ask him, tugging on the barbell a little.

“Yes,” he says in that dry way that lets you know your question has amused him.

“You know what I mean. You’ve gotten tattoos and had your ears pierced. What’s the worst pain?”

He shifts to touch a spot on his inner arm where a black and white skull rests. The skin is delightfully soft and thin. “This part nearly had me in tears. Barely felt the nipple, in comparison.”

Your mouth says it before your brain comprehends it: “Maybe I should get mine done.”

He stares at you, eyes briefly falling to your breasts. He reaches down and skims his fingers along the curve of one, his fingertips calloused but his touch so very soft. He says: “Soap did this, didn’t he?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re alone with Soap for sixty seconds and now you want your tits pierced. Are you saying that’s a coincidence?”

You frown. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe he influenced me, subconsciously?”

“He didn’t ask you?”

“No! He had a client with him.”

Simon hums. His face is closed off, expression unreadable. You can sense there is more that he holds back the same way you can sense a body of water is deep, but he doesn’t share and you don’t push him, not sure if you’re ready to take that plunge yourself.

“It was a silly idea,” you backpedal. “Forget I said anything.”

“It’s your body,” Simon says, ignoring your words. “You should do whatever you want with it.”

“Yeah? You’d be surprised how rarely anybody ever says that to a woman.”

“Most people are cunts.”

“True.” You reach out and thumb at his nipple again, just to satisfy the urge in your own tiny, one track brain. He takes a measured breath—for Simon, that’s as good as a moan. Your eyes flicker down, but his cock is hidden somewhere beneath the sheets. “Want to go again?”

He guides your hand down to wrap around his cock which is like hard steel wrapped in smooth velvet.

You roll on top of him. The cramp in your thigh has faded by now. Reaching up, you palm your breasts, briefly playing with your nipples. You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly sexy, but the way he looks at you makes you feel powerful, like the sun lives just underneath your skin.

“I think I do want them done,” you say, watching the hungry way he watches your fingers. He sits up, tugging you onto your knees so he can take one nipple into his mouth and tease it with the sharp line of his teeth.

You figure that’s as good a blessing as any.

Simon tends to spring things on you. Texts are usually last minute and painfully succinct: dinner? or my place? He is prone to just showing up out of the blue, unafraid (and unoffended) to take no for an answer when you’re busy.

One sunny fall afternoon, the thing he springs on you is Soap. Simon brings you to the shop, telling you that he needs to meet with a client. You’ve never tagged along to something like this before, but you’re beginning to think that there are few places Simon could go where you wouldn’t want to follow. Convinced you will be hiding in the back of the shop without a word to alert either of them to your presence, you agree easily enough.

But when you arrive, that client is Soap, and instead of letting you hide in the back, Simon picks up a chair with one hand, hauling it across the room so that you both sit flanking Soap on either side while he’s in the tattoo chair getting some fancy, winged symbol just over his pec.

“We’ve got a spectator? A voyeur?” Soap asks, rubbing his hands together. “Oh you know all my seedy kinks, Ghost.”

“I can leave, really,” you offer, already moving to stand.

“Sit,” Simon says.

You sit. Johnny sheds his shirt with obvious relish, and you find the artwork on the wall just over his shoulder to be incredibly interesting all of the sudden.

Soap extends a hand to you. “The big guy still hasn’t introduced us. Some call me Soap, but beautiful women are allowed to call me Johnny.”

You shake his warm hand to be friendly and make the mistake of meeting his eyes. They are very blue, framed by dark lashes and expressive eyebrows. He flashes his tongue piercing at you again and you jerk your hand back like you’ve been burned. He laughs.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, MacTavish,” Simon murmurs, putting a gloved hand flat on his chest to force him back against the chair. You see then that Johnny has both his nipples pierced: little golden rings that compliment his tanned skin.

He’s fit, unfortunately.

You look back at the picture on the wall while Simon grabs the razor to shave Johnny’s pec. You learn that there’s no such thing as silence when Johnny is in the room. He keeps up a consistent chatter of conversation while Simon preps his body and lays the stencil, and it goes a long way to putting you at ease.

“Would you hold my hand, lass?” Johnny asks, eyes big and guileless. “I’m scared of needles.”

Simon rolls his eyes, tugs his mask into place, and starts the gun without waiting for your response. The buzzing causes a visceral reaction in you, reminding you of your own tattoo that you had received from Simon only weeks ago. A craving rises up in you, tangible in your throat (and between your legs). You shift on the chair Simon brought over for you, eyes drawn to his hands to watch him work.

Johnny wiggles his fingers at you, palm up.

Your chair legs screech against the floor as you scoot in bursts towards him and take his hand. You haven’t even held hands with Simon yet, and here you are holding hands with his best friend. Suddenly regret has you wishing you could draw your hand back and wipe the touch away on your leggings. Unaware of your turmoil, Johnny heaves a sigh, giving you a smile that is painfully handsome. “There. Now I feel safe.”

“You shouldn’t,” Simon reminds him.

“Ready to tell me where your newfound generosity has come from?” Johnny asks, straining his neck to glance down at Simon’s work. “What happened to never tattooing friends for free?”

“I want you to owe me,” Simon says, voice quiet and distracted as he traces the line work.

“You need a favor,” Johnny guesses.

“Something like that.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.”

“She wants her nipples done.”

Simon lifts the gun away from his skin just in time for Johnny to jerk in the chair, head swiveling to look at you. Your own head has swiveled to look at Simon, who holds both hands up innocuously, looking not at all apologetic or regretful.

“You want me to cop a feel of your girlfriend’s tits?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you squawk.

“It’s true. We get very close and personal during a piercing, lass—“

“There’s a fundamental difference between copping a feel and touching my breast—“ You realize that you are still holding Johnny’s hand and you practically toss it away.

“I’m not laying a finger on her,” Johnny says firmly, speaking only to Simon now (likely considering you a lost cause). “Period. Out of the question.”

“I’m not letting her go to a stranger,” says Simon, brows drawn down low on his forehead. “So get over your own bullshit and pierce her, Johnny. It’s fine.”

Johnny’s mouth shuts with such force that his teeth click together. He turns his eyes on you and stares. You feel like you’ve already taken your top off even though you’ve done no such thing. Shyly, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, giving him your best glare. It has the opposite of intended effect; Johnny’s gaze softens a little, turns pitying.

“Alright,” he says. “Consider my bullshit over with.”

Simon inclines his head in gratitude. He picks back up the tattoo gun.

“What’s the story with you and Johnny anyway?” you ask Simon over dinner. He rarely takes you out, more content to spend time alone in private rather than in public. His eyes can’t stop scanning the few people in the restaurant. Sometimes his hand reaches for his mask, instinct urging him to draw it back over his mouth and nose, but he doesn’t.

“We met in the SAS, been friends ever since,” he says succinctly.

“How’d you two go into business together?”

“I was doing stick ‘n pokes for anyone who would sit still. He was piercing soldier’s ears in exchange for cigarettes. We both decided we’d rather live to see thirty, so when our time was up, we didn’t re-enlist, pooled our money, bought a location and never looked back.”

You frown. “I didn’t know you were in the military.”

He nods, sipping at a water (he’d refused your offer to share a pint together). You’re aware suddenly of how much there is about Simon that you don’t know.

“Was Johnny the one to pierce your nipple?”

Simon stills for a moment, considering the question. At length he sets his glass down and says slowly: “Yes.”

“Why do I sense there’s a story there?”

“Because there is. I’m sure Soap will be thrilled to tell it with as many details as possible.”

“Shouldn’t you tell me first, to control the narrative?”

Simon’s mouth twitches, lips quirking upwards at the edges. Coaxing one of his rare smiles from him never failed to make you feel like you were walking on clouds. He says: “You’re clever.”

“High praise.”

“Does that do something for you?”

“What?”

“Being praised.”

You sputter a little, flustered. But then it occurs to you: “Are you changing the subject?”

This time he grins, full and beautiful. You think about Soap calling him ‘devastatingly handsome’, and while there was a part of you that was sure the masses would not agree with your assessment of him, you couldn’t help but find Simon striking. Looking at his smile makes you smile, an unconscious mimicry.

He catches the waitress as she comes by and asks for the check.

“You look frightened,” Johnny says when he spots you as you come into Skin Deep. He’s seated on the couch where you and Simon had sex, texting on his phone. How he knows you look frightened, you couldn’t say; he hasn’t even looked up to greet you.

“What gave me away?” you ask, feeling queasy. You’d spent half the night awake watching videos on reddit of people getting their nipples pierced feeling increasingly panicked. It looked brutal. It made no sense to stick a needle through one of the most sensitive parts of your body. But it hadn’t made sense to be stabbed a hundred thousand times by microneedles either—and you’d done that. Eagerly, even.

“That look on your face that says you’re about to be sick,” Simon says from behind you.

You turn and give him a tepid glare. It’s all you can muster.

Johnny leads you back through the curtain, which you cross with a muted giddiness (your first time in the back of the shop!). It leads to a narrow hallway with a few frosted doors. One is clearly marked as a bathroom. One isn’t marked at all. The last has the light on inside, turning the frosted glass a golden yellow. The writing on the glass says SOAP’S ARTISAN PIERCINGS. He opens the door and ushers you both in.

The room is small, with a chair similar to Simon’s except for performing piercings. One wall is dominated by cabinets and drawers and mirrors, a small porcelain sink. A table holds a photobook which you make the mistake of skimming through—it’s full of clits, labias, penises, and nipples, all with a variety of gruesome appearing jewelry.

“Ow,” you mutter, shutting the book.

“Getting ideas for your next piercing?” Johnny asks over his shoulder, washing his hands at the sink. He soaps himself up to the elbows, like a surgeon preparing to root around in your open chest.

“No,” you say. “Definitely not.”

Simon has seated himself in one of the chairs in the corner, his legs looking obscenely long with the way they are folded. He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, watching you closely. You pull a face at him just to watch the way his eyes roll.

“Everything off from the waist up,” Soap says, tugging gloves into place. “Any allergies? Latex, dyes?”

He is much more abrupt today than he had been yesterday. You’re almost moved enough to ask him if he’s upset, but perhaps this is just his professionalism. Regardless, you miss the easy-going nature that had gone so far to put you at ease yesterday.

“No,” you say, shrugging out of your shirt. It is warm in the room but goosebumps still bloom along your arms and chest. God, are you really doing this? Are you really exposing yourself to Simon’s best friend? You glance back over your shoulder, but Simon’s face gives no indication of what you should do. The message is clear: you have to choose. Taking a deep breath, you slide the straps of your bra down your arms and reach around back to undo the clasp, folding everything nice and neatly into a pile on the chair beside you. Your nipples immediately pucker, whether from nerves or some unwilling arousal, you couldn’t say.

Johnny isn’t even looking at you. He’s opening up packages of frightening looking tools: scissors with clamps on the end, needles, toothpicks? “Had any caffeine today?”

“No. Wait, yes. A tea.”

“Goddamnit, Ghost. You and yer bloody teas.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not really,” Johnny says. “I’d prefer if you hadn’t drunk it, but what’s done is done. Makes the blood thinner though, you know.”

“Didn’t know that. I thought that was just alcohol.”

“Alcohol is worse,” he agrees. He glances over his shoulder, but towards Simon whose dark figure is haunting the corner of the room. His expression is sly. “Ghost knows all about that, aye?”

You latch on to this news eagerly. “Are you talking about when you pierced his nipple?”

Johnny’s brows lift in obvious surprise. “He told you about that?”

You hear the creak of the chair behind you as Simon shifts but you don’t turn to look at him. “He told me some of it?” you say, voice pitching upward at the end in question.

“Which parts, exactly?”

“Just that you were the one who had done it.”

“Left out all the tastiest bits,” Johnny says. “I bet he does that a lot when talking about his days with the 1-4-1.”

Your stomach dips.

“That’ll do,” Simon says sternly from the corner.

Johnny scoffs a little, muttering something under his breath as he arranges the tools to his liking. The silence that lingers is thick and awkward. Eager to break it, he turns to you and your tits. “Alright then. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

You want to cross your arms more than you want to take your next breath, but you don’t. You don’t breathe either, really. Johnny stares at your breasts and then asks you to stand and come closer. Knees knocking together, you do, until you are close enough to smell his cologne or aftershave—whichever you aren’t sure.

“Biggest question here,” he says, glancing back toward your eyes. “Are we doing one today or both?”

“Uh—both?”

“Let me bring this to your consideration,” Johnny says. “If you can’t go without playing with them, I recommend just doing one at a time. Because once I pierce it, it’s hands off for six months. No touching, no twiddling, no teasing, no twisting, definitely no tasting, I’m talking to you, Ghost—“

“Fuck off.”

“—so if that’s a dealbreaker, I recommend leaving one to play with. Stagger them. Mitigates the loss a little.”

You glance back at Ghost. On the one hand, nipple play is a favorite of yours. On the other hand, if you don’t do both today, you might chicken out and never come back. In the end, you decide: “Let’s start with one and see how I do.”

“Yer the boss, hen,” Johnny says solemnly. He tears open a tiny package, the bitter scent of antiseptic stinging at your nose. “Any preference on left or right? Do yeh have a favorite?”

“A favorite?”

He snorts. “Alright—which side do you sleep on?”

You say your left, so he takes the antiseptic wipe to the right breast and warns you with a brief, It’s chilly, before swiping it across your nipple. You hate every moment of it, mostly because the stimulation feels good in a distant, muted way. Teeth gritting, you wait for him to be done, even though he is a consummate professional and going as fast as he can.

Next he takes one of the toothpicks, dips it in ink, and marks a spot on either side of your nipple where the needle will pierce. It’s more on the areola itself; you can’t decide if that makes it more or less tolerable.

“Go check the placement in the mirror, let me know if you’re level,” says Johnny, tossing away the toothpick.

You turn to Ghost instead. “Will you be my mirror?” you whisper.

The corners of his eyes crinkle behind his mask. He beckons you closer with two fingers, and you walk to him on unsteady legs. His hand cups your breast, careful not to touch any part that Johnny has sanitized as he looks you over thoroughly.

“Perfect,” he mutters, almost like a curse.

“Hey! No touching!” Johnny calls, crumpling a piece of trash noisily in his fist. He sounds irritated. “Don’t you make me sanitize her again!”

When you and Simon have finished, Johnny adjusts the chair until it is laying flat and helps you up onto it.

“Normally I freehand most piercings,” he says. “But since this is your first, I’m going to use a hemostat clamp. Looks like this—“ He shows you the device which looks like scissors but with clamps instead of blades, holes strategically placed for the needle to be pushed through. “—and I’ve been told it hurts more than the piercing itself, so be warned.”

“I’m warned,” you whisper weakly.

“Arm up, over your head lass.”

He scoots his chair beside you and then gently touches your breast, the latex warm from his body heat. He adjusts the clamp and then grips down tightly, ensuring that the marked spots of ink are within the holes. It does hurt, but not as badly as you imagined. You let out a breath. You can do this.

“Ready for the needle?”

Yeah, you can’t do this. Your other hand reaches out blindly towards Simon. After a moment, you feel his touch: hand warm and solid where he laces your fingers together awkwardly. Neither of you have had much practice in the way of hand holding—and none at all with each other—but you feel his touch all the way in your toes, and you think that’s a pretty good sign.

“Make all the sound you want,” Johnny mutters, breath fanning across your outstretched arm. “It helps, trust me. On three. One—“

He pierces you. You suck in a breath through your teeth. “You bastard, that hurt way more than the clamp!”

“Yeah,” says Johnny, guiding the jewelry through your nipple. He looks down at you with a sad, strange smile. “I’m a liar.”

You shower together that night. The shower is small for a man of Simon’s stature. Add you into the mix and it’s positively tiny, but that just means you both have to stand close together, bodies brushing against each other with each movement. He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to the spray to let the water run across your sore breast, thumbs kneading at the tense muscles of your shoulder blades.

You relax back against him, feeling his hard cock against the small of your back. He doesn’t do anything about it, so you don’t either.

“What’s the verdict?” you ask him. “Do you like it?”

“Is it important to you that I like it?” he asks, voice rumbling against your back.

You think.

“Yes,” you say.

His hand comes down to ghost over your unpierced breast, cupping it in his huge palm. Your hard nipple rasps against the calluses on his hand making you shiver even in the heat of the shower. He squeezes softly, pulling a sound from the back of your throat that is lost thanks to the roar of the water against the tiles.

His mouth brushes against your ear, lips damp: “I like it.”

You twist in his arms, his cock dragging against your slick body, and look up at him. His hair is plastered to his forehead, a shade darker than usual. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You guide his hand to your hair. “Hold this for me.”

You slip down onto your knees.

How’s the piercing healing? Simon messages you one afternoon. Soap won’t shut up asking me about it.

Give him my number, you suggest.

After a lengthy silence, Simon texts: He says he doesn’t want it.

And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Maybe it was some weird piercer/client boundary he didn’t want to cross, but Ghost had come across more stringent (in just about every aspect of life) and he had had no problem crossing the tattoo artist/client boundary to text you mock ups of your tattoo. Something in your gut goes sour. Something sows itself in the soil of your heart, something thorny and unpleasant, and you don’t like it one bit.

It’s fine, you tell him. I’m taking care of it.

Okay, he says. And that is the end of that.

The next time you see Johnny, it is Simon’s birthday. True to form, he does not make a big fuss of it, though it’s clear that this is the first birthday he has shared with a romantic partner perhaps ever.

He genuinely seems to appreciate the Bluetooth stencil printer you bought him as a gift (he’d looked at the wrapped present like he didn’t know what to do with it, unwrapped it with the same enthusiasm as a man walking to the gallows, but when he’d seen it, he’d given one of those slow, rare grins; the crooked ones thanks to the scar across his mouth), and you silently congratulated yourself on getting him something practical over something sentimental.

“The boys want to get together,” he says that afternoon. “I want you to come, too.”

How could you say no to that?

So you doll yourself up, wearing your nicest pair of skinny jeans and a sweater to keep away the autumn chill. You are giddy at the thought of meeting Simon’s other friends, so much so that you cleanly overlook Johnny’s hot and cold act. At least there will be others there to act as buffers between the two of you.

The pub itself is more crowded than Simon would like. He won’t even take his mask off, keeping his back against the wall and eyes on the door. Not for the first time, you wonder if he doesn’t have some sort of PTSD, something leftover from his time in the service. It would make a lot of things make a lot more sense.

You meet Kyle, who clasps your hand with both of his own, grinning so fetchingly. “Nice to meet you,” he shouts over the sounds of the pub. “Simon’s never brought a woman around before. You must be special.”

“That means be on your best behavior, Garrick,” Simon says dryly, shifting his mask to sip at a beer—the first you’ve ever seen him drink.

“Yes, sir.”

John arrives next. He’s older than the others, though there’s not yet any hint of silver in his facial hair. He smiles, eyes twinkling, and shares Kyle’s sentiments. It shouldn’t make you feel as special as it does, knowing that Simon hasn’t brought a woman to meet his friends before. But it does. It means something. The two of you still haven’t discussed exactly what your relationship is, but it seems clear in the eyes of everyone around you, which makes you feel a little more like you’re standing on solid ground.

Johnny arrives last. His easy grin falters at the sight of you. He slips into the other side of the circular booth beside John and barely greets you, barely even meets your eyes. You don’t shrink, necessarily—you’re aware that you belong here, celebrating Simon, just as much as Johnny does—but you do grow quiet, your arms crossed in your lap, leaning into the warm comfort that Simon’s body beside you provides.

The group together are downright boisterous. Even Simon comes out of his shell some as the drinks come and go, eventually tugging the mask down to rest beneath his chin. They tell stories that make you laugh, make you tear up, make you cringe, make you groan. It eases some anxious part of your heart to hear these uncensored stories, to learn more about Simon’s past straight from the sources.

It’s clear that their time spent serving together has made a brotherhood of them, and while a small part of you feels estranged as the outsider amongst this group, the larger part thinks it’s beautiful to see.

Simon deserves this, you think, as the group gets up: some to go to the bathroom, others to the bar, others to smoke. He deserves to be surrounded by people that love him.

You realize right there in that cracked leather booth of the bar that you are included in that.

You’re in love with him.

“Oh God,” you mutter, pressing your hands to your cheeks. Suddenly your head is spinning from the few shots you had shared with the others. Air. You need air.

Not spying Simon anywhere near the bar, you take your chances of running into him outside and step out of the pub onto the cool street. There is a bitter wind blowing that has you wrapping your arms around your middle, wishing you had worn a jacket over your sweater. Resting your back against the brick wall, you stare up at the moon and think. Nothing has changed between now and five minutes ago, except that now you are a little wiser to your own feelings. A little more aware of how invested you are in this undefined relationship. You don’t need to freak out.

You just need to talk to him and figure out where you both stand with each other. It is the only—

“You followin’ me?” You jerk, startled. Johnny stands there, having come around out of the alley, crushing the remnants of a cigarette beneath his boot. His cheeks are red from the cold, hands jammed deep into his pockets.

“What? Of course not!”

“Alright,” he says, his agreement sounding a lot like skepticism. He moves past you toward the pub doors.

You know that you shouldn’t. You know that for some inexplicable reason, Johnny doesn’t like you, and that you should take this at face value and leave well enough alone. But instead it makes something inside you feel needy and desperate, desperate for this closest friend of Simon’s to like you, desperate to fit it to Simon’s old life.

“Hey,” you say, catching his wrist. “We should plan my next piercing while you’re here.”

He visibly shakes off your touch. His eyes look back toward the pub longingly. “Yeah. Look, not much to plan, really, is there? Just let Simon know when you’re ready and he’ll text me.”

He opens the door. For a moment, the sounds and smells of the pub spill out onto the sidewalk, but then the door shuts and it is quiet and you are alone.

“Johnny doesn’t like me much,” you say to Simon on the way home. You’re driving—three beers in total had managed to make him tipsier than you thought possible for a man of his stature.

He snorts. “Soap loves everybody, and everybody loves Soap.”

You take your eyes off the road briefly. Simon’s figure is illuminated by a passing streetlamp, turning his silhouette into something gilded where he is slumped over in the passenger seat resting his temple against the cool glass of the window. “I don’t love him,” you say, hoping you don’t overemphasize any certain word.

Simon looks to you. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face. Not even being drunk affects the intensity of his gaze, the way it penetrates you, turns you see-through. Whatever he sees in your face must not be enough, because his head thuds as it hits the window again.

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a girl who was supposed to be mine ended up being for Soap.”

You suck in a breath, heart clenching painfully. Taking one hand off the wheel, you search for his thigh—find his knee and settle for it, stroking softly with your thumb.

“I’m not Soap’s, baby,” you say.

“No?”

You shake your head.

“Whose are you?”

“Come on, Simon,” you mutter, face hot. “You already know.”

“Are you mine?”

You nod.

“Don’t say it.”

You blink, glancing over to him. He’s watching you, eyes heavy-lidded and pitch-black in the darkness of the cab. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll make have to you pull over.”

Instead he makes you wait until he’s inside you, still feeling the rasp of his stubble against your thighs from where he had eaten you out. Then, his hands shaking, he asks you again, Whose are you? just to hear the way you chant over and over again: Yours, Yours, Yours.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #skin deep

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jwanniie · 7 months ago

Note

Can u do gp assassin minji x reader where minji was tasked to take down an important person but as she was observing he

Pairings: G!p Assasin Minji x f!reader!

Warnings: dub-con, somno,slight non-con at first, Assasin minji, knife play, degrading, pet names, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), slight breeding at the end, cervix fucking, mention of pregnancy, kinda kidnapping at the end, not proofread, just filthy smut!!

Word count: 1,6k

Jwans note: huh😮‍💨 after a month of not posting, it was difficult to actually start writing and I felt ashy and dry.🫣 but my long ass summer break started, so I will be posting more (yayy), I’m going to a trip with my friends in few days so YIPPEEEEE😍😍I’m so excited (uwu)👁️👅👁️

—————————————————————————

Minji was good at her job, or that’s what she could say, extremely good. Don’t you get fooled by the sweet plump lips, gorgeous smile that made everyone forget about their worries or the eyes that stared at you so delicately. To say that at first when you meet her you’d think she’d work on those cat cafes, kindergarten teacher or a major that inquired art would be an understatement.

The plot twist is that the most innocent and dreamy looking people turn into the most twisted and full of secrets individuals. The ones that you’d look at and think ‘no way they would do that?!’. But like the famous George Eliot said “don’t judge a book by its cover.” applied in most situations.

Minji worked as a professional assasin, she took 47 people down without an ounce of effort, the police tried to investigate those cases, but the outcome would always be a hair gripping disappointment. Nonetheless the only hope the police always had was the small ‘Mj’ that was slowly tatted into the victim’s skin with probably a dagger or an extremely sharp blade. They tried to see possible nail scratches, DNA, fingerprints, they even tried to look at the security cameras but there was no sign of anyone entering or leaving, it was like she appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into thin air.

Minji did not like the idea of being under someone's authority or taking orders from anyone. She preferred to work for herself and to be her own boss. However, on occasions, she would consider offers that came with a filthy payment. And that’s what happened with you.

There was this guy who came to Minji and told her he will give her a horrible amount of money if she can take you down. From what she heard from that guy is that you were some really famous and wealthy man’s daughter, and an only child. Your father had a company and by that company he hid his illegal business like money laundering, drug producing, tax evasion and bribery. And to what she also heard is that your dad had stolen money and refuses to give it back to the guy who came to her and that’s why he wanted to get a revenge from your father.

Minji has figured out your schedule with her ways and planned a day when you'll be very busy and tired, so you'll go straight to bed. This will make Minji's job much easier.

Minji wore baggy jeans and a long sleeved black shirt to avoid any suspicion. She let her hair loose to make her features appear more unrecognizable and she had black mask in her black tote bag to wear once she’s in your apartment and in case you’ll wake up.

She tip toed to your apartment building. The building was very minimalistic compared to what she heard who your dad was and how filthy rich you are. She expected a whole apartment building just for you to live in. But it turned out that you lived in an apartment which had families, students and office workers, like any apartment.

She pressed the elevator button and soon she stepped inside. She looked for number ‘12’ and soon she found it. The elevator was pretty fast and it wasn’t long till she was in her desired floor.-Her eyes traveled to all of the doors, in search for the apartment ‘47’. She later stood in front of the door, the lock getting destroyed by her and the door opening. A dark hall getting exposed to her eyes. She timidly and slowly walks in, taking in every little detail.

The hall was soon done and she was met with a closed door by her right, this was where your room could be since all of the other doors of the apartment were open and this was the only door closed.

She quietly opened the door being met with a laying figure, blanket draped over your thighs and lower abdomen while your upper body was exposed to cold air. The moon shining through the window making a dainty and delicate silhouette appear on the wall.

You were in a deep void, so out of this world, too deep in sleep to wake up anytime soon. Your breathing was soft and almost soundless while your chest was inhaling and exhaling slowly.

She was so fascinated by the sight she almost forgot her mission, she felt a rush of blood down her member, her pants feeling way too tight for her liking. She was ripped back to reality when you changed your position, now laying on your back.

She walked closer to your bed, admiring you now from so close. Taking in the little details, she couldn’t adore from far there. She noticed how the cold air made your nipples poke from your silky black night gown. The way the blanket was so down that your thighs were bare till the knees.

Since she already came all the way here, why can’t she have you at least once or maybe twice and then murder you? It would be fast and beside who can stop her, you are asleep and even if you did wake up. Would you fight her back? You can’t. She can just end you with a second. You were basically under her mercy.

She placed her bag on the nightstand before hovering over you. Her legs straddling your thighs. She slid down her slacks before tossing them across the bedroom. You had easy clothing, fast to remove or even rip. She took the hem of the night gown and lifted it till your breasts. She groaned at the sight, you had no panties on, just so easy and beautiful to use. Your perky mounds were soft and so plushy begging to be sucked and worshipped. While the hips to waist ratio was absolutely perfect.

Fuck, she had to kill such a precious and beautiful doll.

Her length was at this point so upwards, the tip angry red while spilling creamy white substance and her balls heavy and almost purple-ish.-Without any prepping or anything she slammed herself in, immediately groaning at the suck of your cunt. Your walls hugging her so tightly, almost too hard to move.

Her both hands went to your breasts, cupping them, while the pad of her thumb started toying with your nipples. Twisting and squeezing the hardened bud.

Your cunt got wetter with every thrust of her hips which made her pace pick up even more, her tip kissing your cervix with every single thrust.

The uncomfortable feeling in your lower region made your eyes flutter open, slightly contemplating is this a dream or the reality. But with every passing second the feeling got even more real and you were getting conscious back again.

When you were fully aware. You were going to let out a bloody scream but before you could even open your mouth, her hand found it way above your mouth. She didn’t stop her hips movements instead, getting even more faster.

Her other hand went to the nightstand, she was rummaging through her back and you were trying to see what she was trying to find. Your curiosity was soon replaced with fear when you saw what she was looking for.

She was looking for one of those kitchen knives in every typical horror movies.-There was soon a sinister evil smile across her face. Her dark eyes looked at your fear full ones.

“I’m not stopping doll, so you better also enjoy this, don’t cause me trouble and if you do..you know your faith.” She said while the tip of the knife was running across your skin. Hard enough to make a small scratch, but not hard enough to let out blood.

Her movements were in halt but soon she started again. She was ramming your insides, you hated to admit that it felt good, way too good.

She was pounding you like there was no tomorrow, well it kinda is true. Her hands let go from your mouth and you wish she didn’t. Now she has to hear the sounds you let for her. Then she thinks you are enjoying this.

With another hit of her tip on your cervix, you let out a loud moan, a pressure on your lower abdomen lingering there.

She chuckled darkly at the sound her tip taking the knife in her grasp.

“Turned out you were enjoying this, huh? Such a pretty little slut!” The sharp blade was running across your inner thighs the fear turning into pleasure. She slightly made the blade sink into your skin, a small bloody cut was now on your inner thighs.

The pain turned you even more on. The pain making your walls clasp around her uncontrollably. Nonetheless she continued her ramming, her tip was completely out before slamming with full force in. The cycle continued.

With the last womb fucking of her cock you reached your climax. Pleasure running through your body while squirming now underneath her.

Your pussy was squeezing her cock after your release and that made her reach her own high, she fucked you faster and with more passion now that she was close.

Without warning her essence painted your walls white, splashing right into your womb. She fucked harder through her high, you were whining and moving under her, the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation hitting you harder than ever. Her cum was now deeper, leaving you with a risk of pregnancy.

“Maybe I should keep you and just tell them I killed you? You would be my personal fuck doll!” She said before wrapping a tape right on top of your mouth, not even waiting to hear your answer.

#kim minji smut #kim minji x female reader #kim minji x reader smut #kim minji x fem reader #kim minji x reader #minji new jeans #new jeans minji smut #minji smut #new jeans minji x reader #minji x reader smut #minji x reader #minji x fem reader #new jeans x fem reader #new jeans x reader #kim minji #new jeans smut

804 notes · View notes

just-a-ghost00 · 6 months ago

Text

A glimpse at your FS

Group 1

Channeled songs : Youtiful - Stray Kids, Mon Amour - GEMINI, Life goes on - AGUSTD Cards : 8 of pentacles, 2 of wands, Temperance, The Wildling, The Outlaw, Love

Lives at a distance from you, cultural differences, likes to travel for fun.

Apogender (doesn't relate to the notion of gender and has no defined gender, doesn't care about what gender people attribute to them) / genderfluid looks / unisex clothing.

Successful at their work place, feels like they can't be themselves at work.

Closed heart chakra, isn't ready to open up to other people.

Longs for deep connections, very sociable but always feels lonely, only has a small number of "friends". Has a very unconventional view of relationships and love or feels like they can't find their match romantically. Feels like an outcast.

Likes to go on long walks, enjoys spending time alone, tends to keep people at arms length.

Chris / Chan from Stray Kids vibes.

Possible meaningful locations : East Asia / Central Asia / Europe / North Africa / Latin America

Developped 5D connection, astral travelling, connecting through dreams or receiving messages from them at night because of time difference.

Very patient in relationships, longs for someone who can understand them but also call them out when needed.

Looks for fun and surprising connections in which they can feel safe and free to be themselves.

They want someone that will be loyal and trustworthy but will keep them on their toes.

Extras : Sagittarius, Gemini, numbers 2/5/8/14, snakes, masks, knives, crosses, blades, cactus, steampunk, boots

💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️

Group 2

Channeled songs : Connected - Bangchan, Comflex - Stray Kids, Lose my breath SKZ version Cards : 2 of pentacles rx, The Star, King of pentacles, The Alchemist, The Seeker, The Explorer

Possible careers / hobbies : arts / influencers / modeling

Well established, possibly famous or at least people in their field look up to them. High status, very experienced.

High level manifestor, high achiever in all areas of life except for love. They have a lot of knowledge and a lot of skills but when it comes to love they're a noob.

Game of Thrones references, especially Jon Snow vibes ("You know nothing Jon Snow").

You are already aware of who they are and they are aware of your existence but they're either ignoring the signs or downright ignoring you. They're not ready and/or they're scared of the connection.

You both have been manifesting this connection. While you are expectant and wanting to move forward with them, they are freaking out because they were not expecting you so soon.

Their energy is all over the place. They're engaged in a lot of projects, events, activities. They don't have time in their schedule to have a love life on top of that.

You throw them off their balance because you're everything they could ever wish for and they were not expecting to be able to have their wish granted, because whether they want to admit it or not this person has been manifesting you and praying for you.

They have a flirty, social butterfly type of energy. They have been indulging in connections, looking out for their person only to find out that they weren't the one. They've done nothing but flirting. They noticed very quickly that this wasn't gonna work so they quickly gave up. They were a busy bee, flying from flower to flower, never really finding their kind of nectar.

They are very spiritual, though they are constantly working on their material life. They receive a lot of downloads from their guides.

A part of them doubts the connection. They feel like it's too good to be true. Also they're too conscious of the differences between you. They're scared of the public opinion.

Extras : letters C/S/T, numbers 2/8/17, wolves, stars, crows, ravens, hands, bracelets and rings, compass, teeth, cranes, Aquarius, difference of status, overseas

💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️

Group 3

Channeled songs : Comflex - Stray Kids, Comfortable - H.E.R, Mon Amour - GEMINI Cards : Underworld rx, destruction rx, Speak truth, knight of cups, queen of swords, The Star

Recently got out of a dark night of the soul / depression.

Is learning to set boundaries and express their truth without fear of being rejected.

Very giving and fair person that only wishes to connect with and love people but life has given them a hard time. They find it hard to believe that people can be genuinely nice to them with no ulterior motive.

They tend to hide their emotional side more nowadays because they're afraid of being taken advantage of. They might be neurodivergent or struggle with ASD.

They are very feminine in their energy. They are deeply connected to their emotions to the point that it can often overwhelm them. They are deeply empathetic and sympathetic. They can sometimes feel other people's pain as if it were their own.

Highly spiritual, highly emotionally intelligent person but also very clever, witty, often sarcastic.

Huge Scorpio vibes.

Will Graham vibes.

Has a hard time being vulnerable with other people, struggles with the notions of intimacy and beauty. Yet, they're extremely beautiful inside and out.

Has a very clear and charming voice. Enjoys singing, chatting about their interests.

Possible careers / hobbies : psychic / healer / doctor / teacher / music / writing poetry / influencer / fishing / research / sharing knowledge

Lives at a distance from you, possibly near an important body of water.

Though they wish for romance, they're not really looking at potential partners and they don't put themselves out there. They're waiting for the right person to just show up out of nowhere, like some kind of white rabbit coming out of a hat.

They have the potential of being a very important public figure, maybe even being super famous but they don't believe in themselves enough at this moment to reach that potential. They're not really interested in fame but I feel it is part of their destiny. They're on their way to manifest greater success.

Alice in Wonderland vibes, only they're the Mad Hatter when people think they're the innocent and naive "little girl" chasing after rabbits. People tend to underestimate their power.

Extras : Gemini, Aquarius, letters C / S, numbers 8/17, long hair, water, owls, hands, scars, wings, crosses, cranes, horses, swords, long and flowy dresses, jewelry

#pick a card #pac reading #future spouse pac #love pac #just-a-ghost #tarot reading #oracle cards #shufflemancy

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throneofsapphics · 22 days ago

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remember everything that we'd die for

cazriel x reader

summary: Hybern attacks Velaris, you're not where Cassian and Azriel expected you to be.

warnings: injury, death, angst

a/n: the acomaf blurb style rewrite temptation is strong

By all means, it was one of the most beautiful days of the year. Until you were called into work. Not that you minded your job, the bookstore was a peaceful place, but some days you just wanted to rest. Considering both of your mates were busy, it was probably a good thing this happened, saving you from a full day of worrying.

Fate was tricky, you knew that. Despite all previous signs pointing towards a peaceful life in a city known for its safety, not everyone could escape the scythe of the afterlife hanging over them. Your scythe was looking an awful lot like the soldiers from Hybern Azriel and Cassian had described, blotting out the beautiful sky.

“Get inside,” you pushed the door open, ushering the panicked people through. “If they break through, go out the back,” you’d firmly instructed your coworker earlier before retrieving the rusted blade you kept under the front desk. Your mates would throw a hissy fit over that. Two knives, gifted to you by them, were tucked into your clothing.

A little girl pressed her hands against the window, her mother dragged her back. You hoped you conveyed your appreciation in the brief meeting of your eyes, all you saw in hers was gratitude that made you sick to your stomach. You were no savior. You were more likely to be their damnation. Perhaps fate or destiny took you to work that day, you just prayed the people inside the building made it.

With a store full of people behind you, you tapped into your magic for the first time in years, perhaps decades, and let the wall rise as you stepped beyond it. A golden sheen now covered the building like a second skin.

You wished you could’ve had one last day with them. Or even just an hour.

As Hybern’s soldiers fell, Azriel took solace in the fact that you were in their home, safely warded. He knew, not far away from him, that Cassian was doing the same thing. Later, he’d question why his shadows had failed him, for the first time.

The first grey scaled being landed in front of you, took one look at the blade in your hand, and laughed before calling out in a language you half understood. Only three others landed.

Righteous, sweet, anger filled every nook and crevice of your body and mind. Breathing out, you let enough of it fade to keep a clear mind.

“Losing your head is the fastest way to get killed,” Cassian’s voice echoed in your mind. They may have taught you a few things, but you were no trained warrior. Tears built in the corners of your eyes. Was this really how it would end for you?

As his blade toppled the head of one soldier, his magic crushing another, Cassian counted his lucky stars it was your day off, but he wouldn’t find true peace until he managed to lay eyes on you and confirm you were safe.

Like something out of a story book, you felt rather than saw your magic sneak up the blade, coating it in what must be a golden iridescence. You didn’t dare look, didn’t dare give away that one precious piece of knowledge that might give you some kind of edge.

Despite the training you’d received from your mates, four versus one was not good odds. Tilting your eyes to the blotted sky in silent prayer to the mother, you waited for your opponents to give something away. Time, you needed to buy time for someone else to get here.

It took three dead enemy bodies for you to realize help was not coming. Your arms shook as they held the blade, the magic on it already sputtering.

The first knick hit your shoulder, blood pooling around the cloth of your off white top.

Dying was absolutely unacceptable. You had too much to live for.

If you died, you doomed the people behind your shield, the ones counting on you to keep them safe. You had a store full of younglings, females, and males all counting on you.

This couldn’t be your end, you thought as you reached for the knife tucked at your waist, dodging another blow.

Your aim had always been good, it wouldn’t, couldn’t fail you now.

The knife flew from your fist as a blow hit your head, hard enough darkness took you. Like a marionette doll, you crumbled to the pavement. As the sky turned a familiar and safe dark, the golden shield behind you faded, and you couldn’t tell if you were a failure.

As Rhys’s magic cleared the city, a black shadow wisped around his ear, whispering one of his greatest fears.

Hurt, she’s hurt.

Azriel shot through the sky, a blur of black, aiming right for where Cassian scanned the horizon. He looked up as Azriel slowed just enough to approach, the panic in his eyes must’ve made the message clear. Few things could make him panic.

“Where. Is. She?” Cassian said, jaw clenched.

Work, another shadow curled around his ear, work.

“The store.”

He clasped Cassian’s forearm, shadows transporting them the short distance to the city proper.

They landed quietly, but their steps were near thunderous as they approached, the crowd clearing for them, words of thanks flying past their ears.

A few children hid inside the bookstore, he could feel the remains of your magic, a sensation he hadn’t known in years, something you generally kept to yourself, brought to the light by these ancient horrors.

Azriel kept his head clear enough by focusing on how his shadows said hurt not dead. Why the hell did you have to go to work today of all days? He’d kill whoever called you in. Gladly. Cassian might even help him.

“Clear out,” a voice shouted, he looked out to see a healer he recognized hovering over your form, looking at him and Cassain.

The crowd parted before he needed to shove their way through.

Azriel’s knees hit the pavement on your other side, Cassian right next to him.

The healer didn’t complain at the shadows now swarming over your body, reporting back to him on every little detail.

A blow to the side of your head, one on the back of your head, likely from hitting the ground, a wound on your shoulder. Unconscious, no doubt you’d have a concussion, but right now you were still breathing.

Cassian asked all of the questions to the healer, his restraint at her touch and magic a sign of your century old mating bond. A hundred years ago they would’ve been at her throat.

Now, he was capable, although not happy about it, of letting her work.

“She needs lots of rest,” the healer said. “Minimal activity for at least a week.” He’d tie you to the fucking bed if he had to.

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124

@callsigns-haze @littlest-w01f

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16

#cazriel x reader #cazriel x y/n #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #acotar x reader

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targaryenimagines · 7 months ago

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A Gentle Flame

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,701

Summary: After months of trying, you are finally able to give something back to your Khaleesi that she never thought she’d have again — an heir to not only House Targaryen but the Iron Throne. You just aren’t sure how you’d like to reveal the good news to your beloved; taking solace in your dearest friend’s company as he tried to help you in revealing the truth. Of course, you should have known that your dragon’s possessive fire would never be quenched — not even for Grey Worm.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, jealousy/possessiveness, and pregnancy.

Notes: Can be seen as part of the “My Khaleesi” series, but can also be read as a stand-alone as well. Thank you to the wonderful @rain-mikaelson for this amazing idea!

Series Masterlist

“She doesn’t know?”

You don’t have to turn around to see, with picture perfect clarity, the confusion that must have been etched upon your dearest friends face. The thickening of his accent alone told you all you needed to know.

“No,” you reply, setting the brush you had been fiddling with firmly back in its place on your vanity. “I only just discovered it. I went to the Palace Healer after I missed my second cycle in recent months.”

The familiar sound of leather rubbing against sharpened metal echoes through the air — a telltale sign that he was processing what had been revealed — as you begin to fiddle, once more, with the brush you hadn’t needed since the conversation had commenced.

“And the Healer?” He hedges out the question, hesitation clear in his tone. “She won’t divulge anything to the Queen?”

“No, I made sure of that. The only way Daenerys will find out I’m pregnant is from my own lips and no one else’s.”

There’s a brief moment of silence. “Why tell me, Your Grace?”

Twisting around, so you’re finally staring face-to-face with your closest companion, you can’t help the small, albeit genuine, twist of your lips as you smiled at him. “Because you’re my closest friend, Grey Worm.” You wave a hand in the air, even as a melancholic twinge echoes within your heart. “Dany always had Missandei and I always had you.”

“And you still do,” he intones, clearly fighting through the wave of emotions that her name still invokes within him. “You always will, Your Highness. For as long as I shall live and be able to raise my weapon to the sky in your honor.”

You’re touched by the fierceness within his tone — not doubting, for even a second, the sincerity behind his words; Grey Worm would always protect you, would always be there — but the knowledge of what the upcoming days would bring, causes you to lean back against your vanity with a heavy sigh.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to break the news, Grey.” Running a frazzled hand through your hair, Grey Worm simply observes as you sort out the various thoughts whirling in your head. “The Summit is commencing in five days, the guests will be arriving in two, and you know how Daenerys has been planning this for months.” Your eyes raise to meet stoic brown. “I can’t have her know I’m pregnant until after.”

He tilts his head. “I would assume the Queen would be ecstatic to learn the news, Your Grace.”

“She would be,” you state, confident in that knowledge at least. “But, I can’t have that be what she’d focus on this week. Even if she’d pretend to be business as usual, we both know how Daenerys gets when even the slightest chance of my safety is in question. How do you think she’d react or behave, with all these unknowns arriving in King’s Landing, if she knew I’m with child?”

Grey Worm doesn’t respond, he didn’t have to, not when the last time your life had seemed to be in peril was still so fresh within both of your minds. You had been ambushed returning to the Red Keep after a day in the city, a couple of vagabonds testing their luck against Valyrian and Dothraki blades, it had ended quickly, but your darling wife had not taken the news of no major injuries lightly; not when things could of had a different conclusion. Daenerys had been on a warpath for weeks, refusing to let any stone go unturned, until everyone she deemed responsible for such a fuck up was punished accordingly; whether that be the genial blacksmith that had sold them their weapons, the proprietors of the tavern the vagabonds frequented and loudly discussed their plans, or the guardsmen themselves that hadn’t realized there was a threat before it was almost too late.

“She can’t know,” you stress. “Not when this Summit means so much to her.”

There’s a beat of silence, wherein your closest companion simply observes you, taking note of what feelings must have been flickering within your gaze, before he inclined his head, an imperceptible motion that only the people who knew him would be able to pick up.

“What will you have me do?”

“I wish for you to stay close, my love.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a question, by the steely undercurrent that lay within her tone, the diplomatic smile on her lips causing her eyes to strain with the force of keeping her emotions in check. You could tell that Daenerys had begun to tire of playing host to all the nobles, both of major and minor houses, that Westeros seemed so proud to boast. However, the end result of what this Summit could potentially do, collecting all of the major players within the Seven Kingdoms to witness the power that is House Targaryen, meant that she was allowing herself to be docile for the moment.

At least until the single House that caused her hackles to rise appeared.

House Stark moved as a singular unit, bringing truth to the old adage that its members were like a wolf pack, but the lone man leading met your gaze solidly with his own steely brown. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by Daenerys, nor the guard standing mere feet behind you both, and you could practically feel the air thicken with growing tension. Something that would have caused Daenerys to take up arms if she knew of the life I’m now carrying.

“Your Majesties.” A familiar gravelly voice greets, his head inclining to the both of you. “It’s a pleasure for House Stark to be invited back to King’s Landing.”

His sentiment was clearly not shared with the two women behind him — the shorter of the two looking like she was about stab someone and the taller one’s lips twisting in bitter distaste — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Warden Snow,” Daenerys greets in return, her smile now almost looking like she was baring her teeth in warning; a sign of dominance that any wolf would know to back away from, unless it was a fight they were after. “I welcome you to the Summit with open arms. I do hope that the amenities within the Keep will be enough to sate you during the duration of your stay.” Violet eyes flicker to icy blue just behind him. “If there’s something you need, you’re more than free to find an attendant that will help you with any issue you may have.”

You stifle the urge to curse under your breath at Daenerys’ veiled insult. It was no secret that House Stark, namely the red-headed she wolf, was at odds with House Targaryen; ever since Daenerys had blatantly told them that the North would not be gaining any form of independence, siting there was no justification for it, as Daenerys had barely gained anything from the short alliance they had brokered during the Long Night. Nor did the North have anything to truly offer since The Wall fell.

It’s an argument that still caused an icy frigidity from members of House Stark now — one that Daenerys didn’t deign important enough to deal with at the present moment, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t ever watchful for what the scheming mutts could be cooking up in order to gain a modicum amount of power for their insipid region — which is why, due to their close proximity, you could feel the steady presence of Grey Worm at your back, his rigid posture even more tense than usual due to the news that only he, and the Palace Healer, were privy to. His close proximity is something you’re sure Daenerys has taken note of, if her varying glances throughout the night were anything to go by, but she was constantly pulled in different directions before she was able to speak the words that clearly wished to escape.

Although aware of your close relationship to the Captain of her Queensguard, she was also aware of Grey Worm’s unfaltering fealty to her and how he would never cross a line that Daenerys had drawn in the sand the moment she had claimed you as her own; you were off limits. The only time anyone should ever enter your personal space, barring her and your handmaidens, and even they had a tight leash to tread with, was if they were pushing you out of the way of immediate danger.

You had told Grey that his proximity would be a red flag to your wife, but his protective instincts seemed to not care as he stared impassively at the three individuals at the bottom of the dais you were standing upon.

Knowing that this could only go one way, if the looks that were being exchanged between Daenerys and the youngest Stark were anything to go by, you step forward, placing a gentle hand to the small of your wife’s back. “I believe it’s time to give your speech, Dany,” you murmur. “And we both know you don’t want to keep this crowd waiting.”

While Daenerys doesn’t turn to face you fully, you’re well aware that you have her attention, her body leaning against the palm of your hand, the simple touch soothing the roaring fire that might have been into a gentle flame.

“You’re right, ñuha perzys.” A gloved hand ghosts across your hip, but Daenerys keeps her gaze resolutely forward. “I’m afraid I must cut this rather delightful exchange short. It’s about the time that I should be addressing the room.” Violet eyes glint sharply. “Wouldn’t wish for anyone to think I favor House Stark.”

Crisis averted, you think, observing the whispered conversation between the three as they left to find their seats. For now.

A soft touch to your cheek causes you to almost jump out of your skin, the sight Daenerys’ concerned expression doing little to sate the racing of your heart. “Are you well, dearest?” Worry colors her tone, eyes flashing with a protective fire. “You’ve seemed preoccupied all night.”

“I’m fine, Dany.” You cradle the hand that’s currently still doing the same to your cheek. “It’s just been a long day. I’m anticipating when it’ll all be over and I’ll get to be alone with you.”

You could tell that your wife felt the same, but something still lurked in violet depths that you adored so much. Something that made you want to curse once more — sometimes you hated how perceptive your wife was, even if the knowledge that she observed you to the point that she could pick apart the very foundations of your moods set you alight with adoration, you couldn’t help but wish that Daenerys would let this slide.

“I’m anticipating the same,” Daenerys replies, stepping back to offer you her arm; a gesture that you accept instantly. “But, for now, we must be the royals that Westeros demands us to be.”

Keeping your gaze locked with the seat that’d be your home for the next few hours, you completely miss the look Daenerys sends Grey Worm as he diligently follows behind you, never missing a step, remaining your ever loyal shadow, and the way her arm tightens around yours that much more because of it.

“I truly don’t know why I haven’t killed them yet,” Daenerys mutters, running gentle fingers through the tangled locks of your hair. Violet eyes staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedchamber. “It’d be so easy then I could simply appoint a new Warden of the North that wouldn’t annoy me so.”

Huffing out a laugh, you rest your chin on Daenerys’ clavicle, staring at her with soft eyes, despite the topic at hand, and press a light kiss to the patch of the skin that was easily available. It was later, hours after the dinner had ended, with the moon hanging high in the sky, but, despite the weight of the day bearing down upon your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel like you were floating; here, in this bed, with your darling dragon, tangled naked in the rumpled sheets of your marital bed.

“Because you don’t wish to deal with the hassle such an action will cause, beloved,” you reply, knowing that Daenerys would appreciate your insight. “You’ve already dealt with two wars in this infernal landscape as it is. There’s no reason to fight another so soon. Not so early into your reign.”

Tendrils of your hair curl around pale fingers, a soft look etched upon her face; an expression that Daenerys only leveled at you and Drogon. “So much knowledge hidden behind such a beautiful face.” She strokes your cheek, love speaking through every action and echoed in the look upon your own face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, which is exactly why I wish to deal with those blasted mutts.” Her arm tightens around your naked form. “I don’t trust them, and I know they don’t trust me, nor do I think they’ll just let things go. They have a personal vendetta against me and I fear they’ll use you to rectify it.”

You nuzzle closer, comforted by your Khaleesi’s sweet scent. “We don’t know what the future may bring.” Some more than others. “But, I have hope that I’ll be protected.”

What was meant as a soothing gesture, an affirmation that Daenerys would always be able to keep you safe, seemed to have the complete opposite effect. Her pliable body going stiff against your own, hand halting its comforting movement, a sharpness entering her gaze.

“Dany?” You question, rising up onto your forearms to peer down at her. The silence settling over you like a thick blanket, a brooding entity that meant she was deep in thought, an elegant brow furrowed as she tried to corral her rampant thoughts. “What’s the matter?”

Finally, after another beat of tense silence, her eyes slip to meet your own. “Do you feel that confident with your security detail, ñuha perzys?”

“Yes?” Not understanding where this line of questioning was coming from you couldn’t help the slight lilt at the end of your answer. “Of course, I do.”

A stormy look falls across your wife’s face. “Really?” She straightens to lean against her pillow, now peering down at you. “You feel so confident when those very people almost got you killed by random mercenaries? I find that hard to believe.”

“I thought we went over this when it happened, Dany,” you sigh, finally sitting up to be on a more level field. Knowing now that you weren’t going to go back to snuggling anytime soon. “The two responsible for the oversight were dealt with, by your own hand if you recall, and the rest have more than made up for it. They won’t fail me or you again.”

“It was dealt with so swiftly due to my Captain straightening it out,” Daenerys snipes, arms crossed over her naked chest, the thin sheet having fallen around her hips sometime ago. “I don’t even want to imagine what those fools would have done without him.”

A small smile curls your lips. “Yes,” you agree. “Grey Worm did an excellent job at handling the situation. I’m thankful for his help and continued support.”

Your wife’s cheek twitches due to force in which she’s clenching her jaw, a sight that causes worry to bubble within your chest. Something had obviously set her off, but you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure it out. Leaning forward, you gently take Daenerys’ hand, releasing her white-knuckled grip on the sheet, and cradle it.

“But,” you continue, ensuring you maintained eye contact. “If it wasn’t for you, my darling dragon, I know that I would have been lost long ago. You’ve saved me from so much, Dany. You’re my constant protector, my most treasured companion, and my loving wife. I could never ask for, nor want, anyone else by my side, and I’m so thankful that I get to call you mine.”

The tender words, coupled by the unwavering sincerity in your voice, finally causes Daenerys to slacken, violet eyes going soft as a hint of embarrassment reddens her cheeks. Slim hands soon finding their way around your waist to pull you back into her embrace, head nestled in the crook of her neck, as she seems to simply breathe you in.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Warm breath ghosts across your skin, a phantom touch that raises the fine hairs on your arms. “I think the long days, coupled with being around boastful imbeciles constantly, has muddled my mind more than I would like.” Long fingers curl underneath your chin, tilting your head back just enough so you could see the beginnings of a smile curling full lips. “Even getting to the point where I thought you were hiding something from me.” Daenerys huffs out a laugh, clearly perplexed at herself, even as you feel your blood freeze in your veins. “And do you want to know the funniest thing?”

Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, a suddenly dry throat trying desperately to make any sort of sound. “W-What?”

“I believed Grey Worm was in on it.” Daenerys rolls her eyes, scoffing. “I couldn’t help but notice how attentive he’s been of you as of late. Always being one step behind you at all times.” Lean arms, that hide a strength few were ever privy to, flex around your body, pulling you closer. “Can you believe I thought something was going on between you?”

Laughter bubbles in your throat at the outlandish insinuation — you could never want, or ask for, anyone else — but the strain around your eyes, as you desperately tried to keep it together, was apparent, but Daenerys, lost in her own thoughts, obviously trying to come to terms with how she could come to such a conclusion, didn’t notice.

You weren’t sure if that fact was fortunate or not.

Soon Daenerys, curled protectively around you, falls asleep, after a final whispered apology, her gentle breathing a soothing melody that you have grown to adore over the years you’ve spent in her bed. Normally, you’d be quick to follow your Khaleesi into the land of dreams, but her words, the thinly veiled accusations, the quickly shifted in self-deprecating jokes, kept the lull of oblivion from claiming your mind.

The very notion that you’d ever cheat on Daenerys was laughable — something that would never cross your mind, an annoying gnat that you simply swatted away without a second glance — but the knowledge that she believed you wouldn’t keep something from her unsettled you. Of course, you knew you had good reasoning behind your decision, but it still stung all the same; feeling like you were betraying your wife somehow.

Your wife didn’t have faith in many people — the ones she used to were either dead, imprisoned, or gone from her life in some other fashion — which left only a small handful left: Drogon, Grey Worm, and yourself.

The Summit will be over in three days. You just have to hold out for three more days.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force the thoughts, and the feelings they invoke, from your mind as you nuzzle closer to your wife; heart aching when she instantly brings you closer in response.

Just three more days, my love, you think, pressing closer. Three more days and then I can tell you the news that we’ve both been so desperate for. Just three more days…

It never seemed like such a large amount of time before.

Guilt, you learn, did not go well with pregnancy.

You weren’t able to be around Daenerys for long after that night — knowing what you did and what you were keeping from her — which was something that could easily be explained due to how hectic the daily life usually was in King’s Landing; now multiplied even further due to the Summit. Feigning different duties around the castle was simple, even if you missed your wife terribly during the long hours apart, that ache was easier to handle then the one that erupted every time you looked into her soft gaze.

The guilt, coupled with your own growing symptoms of your condition, caused your stomach to twist constantly, ensuring that you spent a large portion of the day keeled over a bucket with Grey Worm standing watch.

Of course, after the first day, when you only greeted Daenerys with a fleeting kiss to the cheek, and an airy greeting mixed soon after with a brief farewell, your wife began to grow concerned, her gaze often seeking you out within the crowded room of nobles and dignitaries. Uncaring of anyone that may be trying to talk to her, her attention focused solely on you alone, something you wouldn’t normally mind, except for the simple fact that you’d sing like a canary if she leveled you with inquisitive look one more time.

You hadn’t come this far to mess up on the last day of the Summit; the final meeting being hosted in the Dragon Pit, recently reconstructed to an echo of its former glory. Although your darling son refused to even grace the structure with his presence unless it was to deliver you and Daenerys.

“Are you feeling well, Your Grace?” The familiar presence settled a half-step behind you, his accented voice a relief over the miasma of varying conversations that were occurring as people prepared to head over to the Dragon Pit. “Do you require anything?”

“No,” you reply, side-stepping an obviously over encumbered stable hand, as you spot the hulking obsidian mass that was Drogon; the people unfortunate enough to have left their things where he decided to land were scuttling around him like frantic ants, his own expression one of boredom if it was ever possible for a reptilian face to showcase such an emotion. “I’ll be fine for now. Thank you, Grey.”

At the sound of your approaching voice, Drogon swings his head in your direction, crimson eyes lighting up in recognition, as a gentle croon rumbles from deep within his chest. The people around him pause their activities, afraid that he may lunge any second, but your son didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, he lowered his head to give you easy access to scratch the underside of his chin, pebbled scales warm against your cool fingers.

“I’ve missed you too.” You smooth your hand out against his jaw, an adoring smile on your face. “Need to make sure that I carve out more time to see you in the future.”

You can’t even begin to imagine how lonely he must feel — what was once three was now only one — if the ache in your chest was anything to go by it must be difficult; something you didn’t wish for your son to go through alone.

A son, you quickly notice, that was now pressing his snout against your stomach, a low rumble sounding from deep within his throat, not unlike the croon he released earlier, but this, coupled with the protective glint in his fiery gaze, made you understand, with perfect clarity, that Drogon knew. That he had no doubt about the life you were now carrying.

“I know that you and your mama have this special connection,” you whisper, scratching his jaw. “Like the one that I shared with Viserion, but you can’t give her any hints about what you’ve discovered.” Crimson eyes flicker in understanding, his intelligence shining through. “Do you think you’ll be able to hold your protective instincts back for the day, Drogon?”

You knew, even as you asked, that it would be like asking Daenerys the same exact thing. Something that causes your stomach to twist once more. You could play off Grey Worm’s presence and increased vigilance, as he had been appointed to your guard until competent ones were found, but Drogon? Your wife would instantly be able to tell that something was happening, and it probably wouldn’t take her any time at all to discover what it was.

Which meant that you wouldn’t be able to fly with Daenerys to the Dragon Pit; something you had been looking forward to as it’d give you a chance to be with your wife, soaring over the city she had claimed, and may cause the growing suspicion to die within her gaze.

“Ready to go, ñuha perzys?” Daenerys’ lovely voice causes you to startle, wide eyes meeting her questioning one. “I believe we’ll be able to do a few laps around King’s Landing before the first people arrive at the Dragon Pit.” A charming smile catches your wife’s lips. “Giving us a chance to spend time with one another. I’ve missed you the last few days.”

The genuine statement causes your heart to twist, your stomach lurching, but you maintain your smile, hoping that you didn’t look as faint as you felt. “I was actually thinking of taking Nox.” You gesture to the dark stallion, his large stature easily seen over the fences of his stable. “Grey Worm has been meaning to show me something, and it’s on the way to the Dragon Pit, so I thought I’d just do both at once.”

While the genial smile doesn’t fall from Daenerys’ lips, the fire behind her eyes grows with intensity until it’s almost scalding across your skin. “Grey Worm?” At the mention of his name from his Queen’s mouth, the aforementioned man steps from his place in the shadows. Forever dutiful, even if it meant walking straight into the gaping maw of a dragon. “You wish to go with Grey Worm instead of me?”

Any other time the incredulous tone within your wife’s voice, causing it to turn almost shrill, would have made you chuckle, but you could see the darkness that was beginning to become apparent — one that had a propensity to turn lethal if it wasn’t dealt with appropriately — and you wanted nothing more than to chase those shadows away; to bring your wife back into the light.

Just a few more hours, you try to soothe yourself. Just a few more hours and this will all be behind you. You’ll be able to tell Dany and everything will right itself.

“Yes,” you reply, maintaining an air of obliviousness in hopes that Daenerys wouldn’t press the issue further. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to let Nox stretch his legs for some time now. You know how Dothraki horses can be, Dany. They’ll only get more irritable the longer they’re cooped up.”

Violet eyes shift from you, to Grey Worm, all the way to the aforementioned stallion across the courtyard, until they land back on you; the expression on her face made you glad that this would be the last day of the Summit, because you know that Daenerys was at the end of her patience, that she wouldn’t let you get away with this one. For now, as the sounds of various voices finally broke in through the haze of everything untold, and Daenerys allows herself to shift back into her queenly stature.

Even though, you knew, that it’d only take one more thing for the bow to break, and then nothing would keep her from finding the answers she’s seeking.

“Very well.” Her tone clipped, detached in a way that stings your heart, Daenerys easily mounts Drogon and stares down at you. “I hope that your journey to the Dragon Pit is fruitful, but do be prepared for the discussions that’ll take place once we return to the Keep.”

And, with those parting words, and one last gentle nudge from Drogon, Daenerys is in the air, soaring higher into the sky until she breaches the clouds. You wish, more than anything, you were with her and your son, but you know that this was the right course of action. Even if it felt like it was the absolute worst.

Grey Worm settles beside you. “I wasn’t aware there would be more talks after the meeting held at the Dragon Pit.”

“There isn’t.” Your stomach twists, meeting concerned brown eyes with a grim expression. “That was a direct summons for me, and only me, by my darling wife.”

The heavy doors of your bedchamber close with a sharp bang behind you, a sound that almost causes you to flinch if it wasn’t for the woman watching you from across the room garnering all of your attention instantly. Daenerys had already changed out of her court attire — wearing a simple dress instead of the black ensemble she had been wearing, the very one she had worn upon conquering King’s Landing — but she looked anything but relaxed.

“You’ve been avoiding me, dearest.” It’s not a question, simply a statement of fact, as Daenerys stalks towards you. “And I’ve been trying to figure out why. Why would my darling wife not wish to be in my presence? Why would my most cherished companion not wish to see me?” She’s closer now, close enough for you to see the rage that’s beginning to build in her slim form. “And do you know what I uncovered? The only possible reason I could come up with?”

You’re not going to like this. “What?”

“Guilt,” Daenerys snarls, lips pulling into a sneer. It’s clear she was trying to rein herself in, that her famous temper wished to unleash itself, but, even now, when she was at her breaking point, she’d never wish to turn it on you. Something that both breaks and reassembled your heart. “You’re guilty about something. To the point that you practically reek with it now. Of course, I truly don’t know what you could feel guilty about, until I remembered the conversation we had a few nights ago.”

Oh no…

She’s pacing in front of you now, a short line that doesn’t take her too far from you, but gave enough room to excise some of the energy bubbling within her. “A conversation wherein I explicitly told you that I believed you and Grey Worm were hiding something from me. Where you told me that I didn’t have to worry.” The sharpness in her tone, the accusation within her eyes, were like physical blows. “So, I truly don’t know what to believe. Should I believe my wife, who’s been pulling away from me, or should I believe my gut instinct and deal with the problem immediately?”

Your eyes snap to look at Daenerys, horror-stricken. “Deal with the problem? What in the Seven Hells do you mean by the that, Daenerys?” Stepping closer to your wife, when she doesn’t answer immediately, you can’t help the desperate lilt from entering your voice. “What have you done to Grey Worm? Did you do something to him? Answer me!”

“Begging for your lovers life already?” Anger twists her face, shrouding the deep love you know she has for you. “I haven’t done anything, but make no mistake that it means I won’t. I’m going to make that man remember that when you swear fealty to House Targaryen it’s for life, and there isn’t any room for dissenters.”

Lover?

An even more horrific realization strikes you like an arrow to the chest.

“You think he’s my lover?” Barring the complications that would already bring due to the environment Grey was raised in, you couldn’t even begin to comprehend him in that manner. Nor could you ever imagine wanting anyone else beside your wife. “No, Dany, no.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and move to settle on the end of your bed. This wasn’t how you wanted to tell her — over a nice dinner, after a nice ride on Drogon, or simply curled up together in this very bed — but you had created this situation and now you had to go with where it’s led you. Looking up, taking note that Daenerys had trailed after you, a gentle smile curls your lips and you beckon your wife closer.

“Grey Worm isn’t my lover, Dany. Nor will he ever be. I know that things have been tense these last few days, but I never wish for you to think that I’d ever be unfaithful to you.” Taking her hand, you tug her pliant body closer, even if you could still see the tension within the rigidity of her shoulders. “You are, and will forever be, my first, my last, and my always.” You place a tender kiss to her clothed abdomen, leaning into her comforting warmth. “Why would I ever want anyone else when I have my Khaleesi?”

Slender fingers run through your hair, the familiar motion allowing your eyes to slip shut contentment. “Then what has been going on, ñuha perzys? You haven’t been yourself and I still have half a mind to take Grey Worm to the dungeons to get him to answer me.”

Looking up, resting your chin on her abdomen, you peer into the violet gaze that you adore. “You’re not going to do anything to Grey Worm, Daenerys. He hasn’t done anything except be a good friend to me and faithfully serve me to the best of his ability.” Standing up, you easily maneuver Daenerys to settle in the position you had just been in, now looking down at your beautiful wife. “Which is something you’ve desperately wanted for me, if I recall.”

“Not if it means that I’m kept in the dark about you.”

The petulant pout causes a tender expression to fall across your features, love and adoration sparking within your heart, as you look at the woman that could turn the world to ash in an instant melting into your gentle touch. And, in that moment, you knew it was time.

So, without preamble, you take one of her hands and gently place it on your abdomen in return. “I didn’t wish to tell you until the Summit was over because it was too important to screw up, and I’m well aware how you get when my health is involved.” Your fingers ghost across her sharp jawline, watching as the beginning of her understanding begins to spark within her gaze. “Add our unborn child’s health too? The Summit would have ended like a Dothraki Wedding if you had your way, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

There’s a beat of silence wherein Daenerys digests the news, a multitude of emotions flickering across her face, before complete and utter jubilation takes its prominent spot.

“You’re pregnant?” Her hand presses gently against the spot you had placed it, wanting to get closer to the life that lay within. “We’re going to be parents?”

You grin. “We’re having a baby, Dany.”

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in the tightest embrace Daenerys had ever given you, happy tears staining the skin of your neck as she nuzzles closer. You’re well aware that she was going to have a talk with you about your secrecy at a later date, especially given the fact that Grey Worm knew before her, but, for now, she was content in simply holding you in her arms, the both of you sharing in the happiness the moment brought.

“Drogon won’t be alone anymore.” Violet eyes look down at your abdomen with utmost affection. “He’ll finally have a sibling again.”

You press your forehead against hers. “The dragons will be returning to Westeros, my Khaleesi, and the skies will once again be filled with dragon song.”

“And everyone will know the power of House Targaryen.”

“Yes,” you murmur, pressing your lips to hers in a chaste embrace. “As well as the woman who leads them.”

“The women,” Daenerys gently corrects. “For I’d still be lost if I didn’t have my darling Queen by my side.”

“And I’d never know that I was cold without the gentle flame of your love keeping me warm.” You lean into her touch, pressing your bodies firmly together. “You brought me to life, Dany, and I’ll never take the love you’ve given me for granted.”

Daenerys smiles. “Together we will bring back what has been stolen from my family, we will right the wrongs that have plagued this land, and we’ll ensure that our children will be able to reap the benefits once we’re done.” She smooths her hand across your abdomen. “Even if it means Fire and Blood will be paid in penance to make it happen.”

“Together.”

For one couldn’t be without the other — the Khaleesi and her Queen — as it always should be.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #daenerys imagine #house of the dragon

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ackx-rman · 21 days ago

Text

tea and you. levi ackerman.

pt. I

Warnings: angst, blood, death, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, graphic scenes, idiots in love

levi, a fixture by the barracks entrance, shifted his weight from foot to foot, the cold seeping through the soles of his worn boots. the biting wind whipped at his cloak, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke from the distant cookfires. a steaming cup of black tea, its smoky aroma a stark contrast to the frigid air, warmed his numb fingers. he periodically glanced down the path, his grey eyes scanning the deepening twilight for your return from patrol.

his anticipation, however, was abruptly interrupted. cadet elara müller, her face flushed crimson from the cold, emerged from the shadows cast by the looming barracks wall. her voice washed over him in a relentless tide.

“captain levi, i was wondering about…the maneuver during patrol today…”

levi’s brow furrowed slightly, a subtle sign of his growing impatience. he offered short, “polite” responses, his gaze drifting back to the path every few seconds.

lost in the labyrinth of short responses. levi nearly missed your arrival. almost. the tension on his shoulders eased the moment he caught sight of your figure emerging from the treeline, the faint moonlight glinting off your sword hilt. he walked towards you, not even saying goodbye to the woman, the steam from his cup trailing behind him like a small dissipation cloud.

“long patrol?” he asked you, his gaze searching your face for any sign or injury or exhaustion

you glanced at the woman standing behind levi, her arms crossed and a thin smile plastered on her face. her eyes, sharp and assessing, flicked from the caked your boots to the grime on your cheek, a flicker of disaster crossing her features before settling on the insignia on your shoulder. you knew her, of course - cadet müller, always vying for levi’s attention during training - but it was odd seeing her in such close proximity to him outside of drills. her gaze seemed to hold a dozen tiny devils, each intent on driving you away so she could resume whatever one-sided conversation she’d been having with the captain. “y/n,” she injected, her voice smooth as silk, but with a definitive undercurrent, “i was just asking captain levi about the optimal blade angle for disarming a larger opponent. such fascinating insights.”

a hint of a smirk played on her lips, and you sensed a familiar undercurrent of competitiveness - one that had been simmering since the last sparring session. you shift your weight, feeling a prickle of annoyance. “uhm, if you’re busy i can go to my room, i have to take a shower anyway,” you said, meeting müller’s gaze directly. let her have him, you thought, i’m not going to play this game

“no, no, im not busy.” levi replied, his brow furrowing as he shot a quick, almost apologetic glance in your direction. he waved his hand dismissively in müller’s direction. “she was just…talking my head off, that’s all.” he didn’t want you to think he was busy - no. that he was too busy to talk to you. the thought was abhorrent. he subtly shifted closer to you, putting a definite distance between himself and the cadet.

your gaze darted between levi and the woman. she leaned against the barracks wall, arms crossed, one hip cocked in a pose that spoke of practiced nonchalance. her dark hair, usually bound tightly for training, was partially loose, framing a face that could indeed grace the pages of those fashion magazines you sometimes pilfered back home. a faint smile played on her lips, but her eyes - sharp and assessing - held a clear challenge, a silent dare for you to retreat.

she was undeniably striking, her figure slender and poised in a way that made you suddenly acutely aware of the dust and grime clinging to your uniform. you were five years younger than levi - a fact that felt pronounced at this moment since müller and levi were the same age, and of course, he was your captain. why are you thinking about this now?

everyone told you you were beautiful, -your mother when she was alive, your friends, even the occasional drunken recruit- but their words always felt hollow, bouncin off a core of self-doubt you’d carried since childhood. men will compliment anything, you thought bitterly, the old insecurity rising to the surface. even a sack of potatoes if it only wore a bra.

you were called the “strongest woman” but in this case, you felt tiny, tiny compared to the woman behind your captain.

müller’s gaze flicked to levi, a subtle but possessive glance that seemed to say, he’s mine. you felt a pang of something akin to defeat. there was no point in competing.

“it’s fine, levi. i should just go,” you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle and thin. you avoided looking at müller, focusing instead on a loose thread on levi’s sleeve.

“no.”

levi's voice was firm, as always. he reached out, his fingers closing around your wrist with a surprising firmness that made your breath catch. he couldn’t let you go. not now. not after…he finally had you here. it was a moment you two shared. a need, raw and undeniable, pulsed through him - the need of your presence, the simple, desperate need to have you here. “stay,” he said, his voice softening just slightly, but the command was still clear.

“i want you to stay”

cadet müller hadn’t moved. if anything, the possessive gesture - levi’s hand on your wrist, a touch he rarely offered anyone, to be honest, no other person- seemed to have ignited a fire in her eyes. her jaw tightened, and the thin smile vanished, replaced by a hard line.

those looks…those were the looks you’d seen him give you before, fleeting but unmistakable. a warmth spread through you, a fragile bloom of hope amidst the tension. but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of müller’s gaze, which felt like physical pressure. the air crackled between you three.

“please,” levi added, his voice dropping to a near whisper. his gaze, his grey beautiful eyes, usually so steely and controlled, held a flicker of something that looked almost like…pleading. he glanced over his shoulder at müller, annoyance crossing his features before he turned back to you. he sighed, and his grip on you loosened, his hand sliding down to intertwined his fingers with yours. the contact was warm, grounding, a silent reassurance in the face of the other woman’s unwavering stare.

“okay…” you mumbled. you knew arguing with levi was futile, a lesson learned long ago. besides, a small, traitorous part of you admitted that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. you’d seen the way he’d looked at müller - like everybody else. It was the way he looked at you that mattered.

levi nodded. he didn’t want another second of his stolen time with you to be tainted by her intrusion. with a gentle tug on your hand - a silent invitation - he led you down the deserted corridor that runs alongside the barracks. the only sound was the soft echo of your footsteps on the wooden floor.

once you were both enveloped by the deep shadows, safely hidden from prying eyes, levi finally released your hand. the contact had been brief, but left a lingering warmth on your skin.

he didn’t want to let go. the memory of your touch, the feeling of your smaller hand in his, was a sharp, almost painful reminder of what he desired. for some reason, being close to you. he leaned back against the cool stone wall, exhaling slowly, his gaze drifting across your face. the dim light cast long, dancing shadows that accentuated the soft curve of your cheek and the slight furrow of your brow.

he took another deep breath, suddenly self-conscious about the intensity of his earlier action, he looked far away from you.

“how…how was the patrol?” levi asked, the earlier tension replaced by a gentle concern.

“uhm…it was fine, just tired,” you replied, the words falling flat. the usual spark in your voice, the playful sarcasm that levi had come to - secretly - cherish, was absent.

levi’s brow furrowed, a crease forming between his sharp grey eyes. he tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made you want to squirm. he’d grown accustomed to your vibrant energy, the way your presence could light up even the dreariest of days. this subdued version of you was unsettling.

“you seem more than just tired,” he noted. he stepped a little closer, his gaze searching your face in the dim light, as if trying to decipher some hidden message.

“it’s fine, really. just tired…” you repeated. you dropped your gaze to the rough wooden floor, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself in a gesture of self-protection. just tired. the oldest excuse in the book. you could practically hear your own mother's voice echoing in your head: “if you don’t want to talk about it, just say you’re tired.” the irony wasn’t lost on you.

levi's gaze followed the movement of your arm and his frown darkened. he stood up a little straighter and took a step closer to you.

“are you injured?” his eyes quickly took in your frame, looking for any sign of a wound. a habit he'd picked up from having to patch up his squad-mates so many times. he was looking for any sign of a tear in your uniform, a flinch, a wince - anything that would betray a hidden wound.

“oh no, sorry, no, no…i'm fine…eh, uhm, what about you?” you stammered, the nervous energy radiating off you in palpable waves.

levi's frown didn't ease. he wasn’t buying it. he knew you. knew your stubbornness, your tendency to downplay pain. he had a sinking feeling that if you were hiding something, he’d have to pry it out of you.

“bullshit” he muttered his breath. he took another step closer, his usually cold eyes searching your face as he stopped right in front of you. he could see a little clearer in the shadows now.

“what?” you asked, tilting your head meeting his gaze. a genuine confusion crossed your features, mixed with a growing sense of unease. okay, yes, maybe you weren’t acting like your usual self. but the situation with müller ten minutes ago had been…unsettling, to say the least. this, however, was escalating from uncomfortable to downright perplexing.

levi's brow furrowed again as he tried to deduce just what was wrong. he could tell you were trying to downplay it. his eyes scanned your face again, reading your expression while he spoke with a steady tone.

“don't lie.” he said, the words low and even, carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument. he paused, a silent plea for honesty. “what’s wrong? i can tell”

“i’m sorry, i’m being a little…idiotic right now. it’s just-” you cut yourself off, your words trailing into silence. what are you going to tell him? the truth felt absurd, vulnerable. that you’d felt a sharp pang of jealousy watching him with müller? that a ridiculous, nagging voice in the back of your mind whispered you’d never be enough for him?

“nothing,” you mumbled, attempting a nonchalant shrug that fell flat

“no, don’t bullshit me, what’s wrong?”

the dam finally broke. “can you believe i was…a little hurt…that i saw you with that woman, having tea? instead of…me?” you rushed the words out, the confession tumbling from your lips in a nervous rush. “like, who am i to feel that way? it’s stupid. but since you and i, you know its our thing i- i’m sorry” a nervous laugh escaped you, but it sounded strained. even in the dim light of the hallway, the heat rising in your cheeks, your face burning like a furnace. you couldn’t help it. better to face the awkwardness head-on than try to deceive levi. he saw through your lies far too easily.

he hadn’t been expecting that. jealousy? the realization hit him like a physical blow. you were…jealous. of him. talking to müller. he hadn’t considered that you would even notice, let alone care. a wave of guilt washed over him, sharp and immediate. the thought of causing you any pain, even unintentionally, was unbearable.

he took a moment to study your face. the faint blush staining your cheeks made his heart clench in his chest. it was a vulnerable, endearing sight.

“i…” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. a rare fluster, an unfamiliar tightness in his chest, held him captive. he wanted to say so much. to reassure that müller meant nothing to him. that his thoughts were consumed by you, every damn minute of every damn day. that the conversation with that woman had been nothing than a brief, unavoidable social obligation - a charade he rarely engaged in. but the words, usually so readily available when delivering orders or reprimands, refused to form. they were trapped behind a wall of ingrained stoicism and a sudden, overwhelming fear of vulnerability. instead, he did the only thing he could think of. he closed the remaining distance between you, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. his fingers intertwined with yours, a silent promise, a wordless apology.

“you don’t have to say anything. i’m sorry for acting like that. i should just go,” you mumbled, pulling away from him and turning abruptly. the words tumbled out in a rused, breathless apology, your cheeks burning with shame. without giving him a chance to respond, you fled, disappearing down the corridor in a blur of motion. running away - it was the only logical course of action, wasn’t it? the only way to escape the crushing weight of embarrassment.

“wait-” levi cursed under his breath, his voice catching in his throat as he watched you vanish. the suddenness of your departure left him momentarily stunned, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. he stood frozen of a heartbeat, his mind reeling, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just passed between you.

then, with a surge of determination, he was moving, his long strides eating up the distance as he took off after you. there was no way he was letting you run. he wouldn’t let you stew in your self-doubt, wouldn’t let you believe you’d made a fool of yourself. he needed to talk to you.

he rounded the corner at a run, his boots echoing sharply, and continued down the next corridor. he knew your usual route back to your room by heart - every twist and turn, every shadowed alcove. he just hoped he wasn’t too late. he pictured you locking your door, retreating behind its solid buried, and a surge of frustration propelled him forward. he wouldn’t let you shut him out. not this time. he lengthened his stride.

but, oh, it was too late. you were already in your room, the door slammed shut behind you, the lock clicking into place with a decisive finality. you’d collapsed into a tight ball, your back pressed against the cool wood of the door as if it could somehow shield you from your own thoughts. you felt like the biggest fool in the world, the heat still burning in your cheeks. overthinkin - it was your specialty, your own personal form of self-torture.

levi stood outside your door, his hand raised to knock, then hesitating. the silence from inside confirmed that: you’d locked yourself in. a sigh escaped his lips. he ached to know what you were thinking, to reassure you, to erase the doubt that had clouded your eyes. a part of him - that fierce, and protective part - urged him to simply force the door open. but he resisted. he couldn’t cross that line. not with you. instead, he leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the door, closing his eyes for a moment. his voice was low, a whisper.

“please, come out”

pt II

Author’s note: hello guuuys!! first fic of leviiii i'm SO excited for this one, i have already all the parts done and written, and when i tell you its gonna be LONG. but i hope you guys like it. let me know. ANYWAYS TSYM GUYS FOR READING. LOVE U ALL. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

#levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x y/n smut #leci ackerman x you #levi fluff #levi ackerman x reader #levi smut #levi x reader #levi aot #levi fanart #captain levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi x you #aot fanfiction #anime fluff #aot #aot fic #fanfiction #idiots in love

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aesthetically-dying101 · 19 days ago

Text

In sickness and in health

A/N: a short idea (cause im sick rn, horrid timing, i have a family dinner tomorrow)

Warnings: mention of violence, blood ect.. pre established relationship, use of she/her

You were bored.

It was horrifying—actually horrifying—unacceptable, even.

You were supposed to be resting, taking a rare day off because your body had decided to betray you with a fever and a scratchy throat. Instead, you were stuck in your apartment, bundled in layers, flipping through the same shows you’d watched a dozen times before. The tea was lukewarm, your blanket felt too hot, and the silence was oppressive.

The day had stretched endlessly, the silence of your apartment broken only by the occasional sneeze or the kettle whistling as you made your third (or was it fourth?) cup of tea.

And the worst part? Nanami was working overtime.

Again.

You sighed, snuggling deeper into the couch with your blanket pulled up to your chin. The faint hum of the TV played in the background, but it wasn’t enough to distract you from how much you missed him. It wasn’t like you to be this clingy—Nanami always said you were fiercely independent, which was one of the things he loved about you—but being sick had a way of unraveling your resolve.

Your gaze drifted to your phone on the coffee table. You hesitated, biting your lip. He’d told you earlier that he’d be busy tonight, handling what he called a “medium-risk curse” that had popped up in the city. Normally, you’d give him space to focus, but loneliness and the lingering fever made your judgment fuzzy.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed your phone and hit the call button.

*-*

Nanami’s grip tightened around the hilt of the blunt blades wrapped in the familiar polka-dot material, his left fist still wrapped with the yellow and black tie he’d worn that morning.

His eyes narrowed as the curse before him hissed, its grotesque, jagged form flickering between dimensions as it swiped at him with claws that seemed to materialize from nowhere.

The curse was quick—dangerously quick—and its movements were erratic, shifting like liquid through the cracks in reality-which was annoying. But Nanami had been a sorcerer for long enough to know how to read the signs. The curse’s bloodshot eyes were wild with hunger, and the distortion in its energy field signaled an attack was coming.

Without hesitation, he twisted his body to the left, narrowly dodging a swipe that left deep gouges in the concrete.

He had no time to waste.

“Alright, let’s finish this,” he muttered to himself, flicking his polka-dot wrapped blades to the side, ready for the next move.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and despite the situation, Nanami’s lips twitched into a brief, almost fond smile.

She’s calling.

Taking a calculated step back, he pulled out his phone with his free hand, glancing at the screen to see your name flashing in bold letters. His brow furrowed slightly, but he answered the call nonetheless, his voice calm and even as he took in a deep breath.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, his voice a steady contrast to the chaos around him.

“Hi,” came your tired voice, a bit nasally as if you’d been sniffling. "Are you busy?"

Nanami sidestepped a powerful slash that could have shredded his chest.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he answered casually, even as he planted his feet firmly, setting himself up for a counterattack. He exhaled sharply, focusing on the curse’s every movement. It was a tricky opponent.

“Good,” you said, your voice sounding distant. “I just... I don’t know. I missed you.”

Nanami’s movements slowed for a brief second, surprised by the softness in your words. He glanced at the phone in his hand, shaking his head at the idea of getting distracted, but his voice softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“I missed you too,” he admitted, before lunging forward to strike.

With a flick of his wrist, he used his blunt blades to deflect an incoming attack, the polka-dot wrapping providing the familiar grip as he smoothly transitioned into a more offensive stance. The curse staggered back with a low, guttural sound, its skin splitting open to reveal dark, oozing energy beneath.

“Are you eating anything?” Nanami asked, his tone light, as if he were just chatting with you on a normal day instead of engaged in a life-or-death battle.

“Soup,” you sighed. “But I’m sick of it.”

“Soup, huh? Well, I guess that’s better than nothing,” he said, his eyes tracking the curse’s next move. The creature lunged again, faster, but Nanami was ready. His right hand gripped one of his blunt blades tighter, and with a clean, precise swing, he slashed diagonally across the creature’s midsection. It shrieked, disintegrating in a burst of black smoke.

Nanami exhaled in relief as the curse disintegrated, the remaining cursed energy dissipated into the air. His body was still tense, every muscle taut from the adrenaline of the fight. The streets were silent now, but he could feel the lingering pulse of cursed energy in the distance.

It was over… for now.

He lowered his sword and glanced down at his phone, still pressed to his ear. The sound of your breathing on the other end was faint, but there—soft, comforting, even if you weren’t fully awake.

“Are you okay?” Nanami asked quietly, his voice warm but edged with concern. “How’s the soup? Do you need anything else?”

There was a slight pause before you answered, your voice muffled by the congestion. He could tell you were trying to sound more awake than you actually were.

“I’m okay. Just… you sound tired, Kento.”

Nanami chuckled softly, feeling his shoulders loosen as he walked away from the scene, his movements slow but deliberate.

“It’s just a long night, but I’m fine. And I’ll be even better when I get home.”

You let out a small sigh, the kind that made his heart squeeze. "I hate that you're working so much. You deserve rest, too."

There was something soft, something good to come back to. And that something was you.

“I’m working hard so I can be with you,” Nanami said, his tone deep and sincere. “You know I’d rather be taking care of you than being out here.”

You let out a quiet, contented sound, like you were smiling, though he couldn’t see it. The thought made him smile, too.

“I know you’re taking care of me in your own way,” you murmured, your voice soft and sleepy. “But I can’t help it… I just want you home.”

He was silent for a moment, stopping at a small vending machine nearby and pulling out a bottle of water. He twisted the cap off, letting the cold liquid settle against his dry throat as he continued to listen to your voice, now slower, heavier with sleep.

“I’ll be home soon,” he promised, though he knew you wouldn’t remember the exact words later. He glanced down at his phone again, his eyes softening. “I can’t wait to hold you again.”

You hummed in response, half-dazed but clearly comforted by the sound of his voice. Nanami closed his eyes for a second, savoring the quiet, knowing that once the mission was over, he’d go back to the warmth of your embrace.

“I’ll make you something better than soup when I get home,” he added, his voice warm, teasing. “Something you’ll actually want to eat.”

The thought made you laugh softly, though the sound was faint, like it was coming from a distance.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you mumbled, your voice trailing off as the exhaustion clearly caught up to you.

Nanami felt his heart ache with tenderness, knowing you were curled up alone in your bed while he was still out there. He couldn’t wait to be beside you, to take care of you the way you always took care of him.

And then there was that thought—the one that had been lingering in his mind for weeks, months now—that maybe, just maybe, it was time to make things even more permanent.

He didn’t know when it had happened, when his heart had shifted so completely. But in moments like this, he realized he was already all in. And with that thought, the words came to him—quietly, almost to himself.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice steady and sure as he stared up at the night sky. “More than I can even say.”

*-*

The next few minutes passed in quiet as Nanami finished up his drink and started walking back toward his car. The weight of the fight seemed lighter now, and his thoughts only drifted back to you—how he couldn’t wait to see you again, how he wanted to make you feel better.

When he finally reached his car, he didn’t hesitate. His phone was still in his hand, and without even thinking, he sent you a quick text:

I love you. Rest up for me, I’ll be home soon.

He set the phone down in the passenger seat, a small smile on his lips.

Even after everything, even after the curses and the battles, when he closed his eyes, he knew he’d always return to you. And someday—soon, he hoped—he would make sure you knew exactly how much you meant to him.

And when he finally pulled up in front of your apartment building, he sighed in relief. Nanami walked in quickly now, the warmth of home pulling him faster than the weight of the night ever could.

By the time Nanami opened the door to your apartment, the warm glow of the light from the kitchen greeted him. He quietly kicked off his shoes and slipped into the living room-only to find you still asleep on the couch, wrapped in blankets.

His heart swelled at the sight, and he couldn’t help but smile softly. You were just as beautiful as always, even in your sickly state, and he was reminded, once again, how lucky he was to have you in his life.

He placed his weapon against the wall and gently sat beside you, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. His fingers lingered for a moment before he whispered, “I’ll be right here, always.”

And, like every night, he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

And in that moment, everything felt right.

A/N: urgh yeah, im drinking like my third soup of the day rn and i just cant anymore.

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #nanami kento #fluff #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento x you #kento nanami #nanamin #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #domestic nanami #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #one shot #aesthetically dying101 #fanfic #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami

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the-moons-tears · 16 days ago

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Alhaitham x reader NSFW

Smuuuuuuut

HELP IM SO DOWN BAD FOR THIS MAN.

NSFW MDNI

this is from a poll I did a while back and never got to but now I am!! This guy goes from submissive to dom by the end god he’s so hot

ENJOY BC I LOVED WRITING THIS

Preview: "Oh…i was tired before, but now you've got me so riled up haven't you? how am i supposed to sleep with all this energy? you'll help me get tired again right?"

soft pillows and cream colored sheets shifted as the tired scholar fell on top of them. The akademiya used to require little of him, but the recent promotion to acting grand sage meant that now he had a lot to deal with. the amount of people asking him questions and creating a loud atmosphere was too much for him to handle. it wore him and his ears out to the point he had to just leave, heading straight home to his shared apartment.

kaveh was on a job and wouldn't be back for a few weeks, meaning alhaitham could actually find rest in his room. you were there that day working on a project of your own in the living room. Both men had said you could come over anytime, so you usually took advantage of that kindness when things got too busy at your own place.

Seeing al haitham open the door and go straight to his room made you curious. the project was practically done, so you decided to follow him back there. it was unusual to see him this tired, as he worked to be anything but that, so you wanted to ask him if he needed anything.

quietly, you opened the door to the grey haired man's room and peeked in, calling out in a soft tone, "haitham? are you awake?"

that earned a lazy wave of a hand, which you took as a sign to come in. when you scanned the room, you noticed he had taken his headphones off and placed them on a nightstand by the bed. ohh...something was definitely up. al haitham told you in the past, when you asked why he wore them all the time, that he had very sensitive ears. Loud noises annoyed and overwhelmed him, so the noise canceling headphones helped. with soft steps you walked over and tapped his shoulder, getting him to turn his head from the covers to look at you.

"can i do anything for you to make you less stressed?"

"yeah..." the handsome man grunted, "would you mind massaging my back? Pretty sure there’s a couple knots"

smiling, you let out a little huff before climbing up and over al haitham to sit on his lower back, your knees propping you up slightly. his jacket was already off on a nearby couch, leaving him in his plain skin tight top that very clearly showed all the muscles along his back. with your thumbs, you started pressing along his shoulder blades and wherever you felt there was a knot or a tense area.

he hummed when something felt good, letting out a bit of a grunt if you pressed in a really tense spot that needed to be worked out. occasionally, al haitham mumbled into the sheets, whispering things like, "mm...feels good there- maybe a bit harder if you can"

when you were pressing along his nape, continuing your expert work, you got an idea when glancing further up at his head. Those pink tipped ears were uncovered...and you were the only person he let touch them...

hand movements slowed on his nape and slid down his skin to suddenly press on his lower back and waist. immediately, his back arched up since it was unexpected, being a completely different pressure from what you had done so far. al haitham's hands reached back to grab yours out of instinct, but you moved your hands away at the last second. grabbing his wrist, you pinned them together on his lower back, putting weight onto him so it would be difficult for him to try to get up.

his face turned to the side as he tried to look at what you were doing. "what are-ahha-mm wait-"

as soon as he turned his face, you leaned down and started kissing those sensitive ears of his, nipping a bit. Alhaitham’s hips pressed into the mattress, and you could feel his fists clench in your grasp. it always made you feel giddy when the powerful and collected man was reduced to such a state because of you, squirming and trying to get more friction somewhere. Pretty grey eyelashes fluttered closed as he let you do what you wanted.

"plea-please more ah-" that voice started to break, the usual calm tone replaced with a more desperate one, something no one would ever believe the great acting sage would have. His occasional words were punctuated by a jolt of his hips into the sheets, making your stomach flip. Both of you knew where this was going

“Haitham, you’ve been stressed ya?” You whispered lowly, pressing your lips to his ear. his voice was practically singing, moans and soft whimpers grew louder as you tormented his weak spots. Alhaitham knew he could probably break his hands away to stop you, but did he really want that?

he let out a particularly loud sound when you licked the outside of his ear, hips stuttered into the sheets under you. It was easy to tell that some certain fabrics were definitely strained in some places. he panted and whined into the pillow his head rested on, his lips parted ever so slightly. grey brows scrunched together every move you made with your tongue along his ear.

"it’s- so much- other side...mmm~ please..."

Who were you to deny that lust filled plea? Turning haitham’s face, his eyes were wild. They were hungry, begging, having one goal in mind. gently, you brushed grey strands away, accidentally grazing across his ear. a muffled whimper came from his throat and you came back down.

his face tilted up and lewd whimpers erupted from his mouth, pleas to let him feel you while you kissed his ears, desperate hips driving into the sheets. Large hands shifted around in your grip, making it hard to stay in one place over him.

oh it felt good for you too. your legs straddled his lower back that occasionally rose and fell with his hips, causing some friction between the fabric of your thighs and center. Whenever you yourself made a noise, the sound would vibrate to his skin, making him go crazy, so much so that al haitham couldn't take it any longer. he needed to touch you like you had him, make you the one under him.

the handsome man broke his hands away and flipped onto his back. after grabbing your lower waist, he sat up with heavy breaths. his mouth latched on to your neck, his tongue worked relentlessly over a spot he knew was sensitive, toned arms moving to firmly wrap around your figure.

"cmon now~ you wanted to help me relieve stress…please let me…it’ll feel good for you too” that dominant manner of his returned pretty quickly, but who was complaining.

"but-i wanted to make this about you, you've been so tired..." you retorted. It was true, but you also just didn't want to stop teasing him with his weakness just yet. while he was kissing your neck, your fingers came to caress his face, thumbs brushing over his ears. Those rough hands dragged down your clothes, eager to get them off after what you had done to him.

"alright then...touch my body. bare hands on bare flesh? i need you please won't you touch me more?" lustful eyes hazily looked up at you, little smile spreading on his face when you nodded. before he laid back down, alhaitham removed his skintight black top and threw it to the side, not caring for where it landed despite his usually organized system of things. he then laid down with his chest and stomach wide open to you, his muscular arms up and underneath the pillow he rested his head on. Your hips now rested right above his hard on, and those eyes swirled with a consuming want, green gleaming from his embedded jewel.

your hands ran from his prominent collarbone to the v line by his hips, earning soft groans that vibrated through his steadily rising lungs. the soft padding on his chest was warm, you couldn't help but play with it. He laughed once, still finding your attraction to his chest as curious as the first time you saw him without a shirt, although you were staring long before.

while you leaned in to kiss his sensitive ears, your hands continued to roam up and down his sculpted form. for a while you stayed, making him lose himself, until you wanted more. Fingers worked down his body hastily, starting to play with the lining of his pants.

"Yeah come on-hah…" haitham’s voice sounded just as eager as you were, adjusting his hips for you to pull the fabric down enough. Slowly you set him free from the tight constraints, watching as his weeping cock throbbed when you pulled everything down. Your eyes stayed on his, catching his lips part when your fingers danced over his skin. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you gave an experimental squeeze. He jolted immediately, brows furrowing in pleasure.

“…you get so sensitive when you’re pent up huh haitham baby?” You gave another drag up his length, feeling the bit of precum at his tip drip onto your fingers. Thumb came up to his tip lightly, swirling around the swollen head. Haitham grunted lowly at that, watching you like a predator. Settling back in between his thighs, you watched his glistening chest rise, giving a long stroke as his lungs raised, noticing the hitch in his breath.

Bringing up a hand, you licked the ends of your fingers, bringing them back down to start working him. You made a mental note to do this more often, watching him fall apart in your hands. Steadily you worked his cock, letting his hips give you a pace that he wanted you to stroke him with. Weeping tip continuously gave beads of pre that helped you to lube your hands, creating a soft wet sound every time your hands went up and down him. His groaning whimpers filled the silence with it, bed creaking softly in the background as well.

You focused on his tip a minute in, watching his eyes scrunch shut, stuttering over an inhale. “God I needed this…needed you to help me de-stress…I thought about you doing this, but fuck~ didn’t think I’d get so addicted to it. Keep going come on a little faster~”

Speeding up accordingly, you let him buck into your hands. One hand worked his base in a sort of twist motion as the other swiped over his swollen head. His cock wasn’t so big that your hands had so much room to work, but archons he had girth, and you loved when it slid in and out of you the most. This might be close though, seeing how much you affect him.

You could tell he was getting close by his breathing, chest rising as his head tilted up to the ceiling, eyes still trained down at your diligently working hands. “Are you close haitham? Want to cum?”

You got repeated “mhmm”’s in whined response, making you speed up on him, feeling the muscles in his inner thighs against you tense. Leaning close, you bit the shell of his ear, and that was the final act. His hands gripped the pillow under his head as a sinful groan escaped him. His cock spit out rope after rope of pent up release, coating his toned stomach and your hands, reaching as high as his chest.

The shock of orgasm rippled through him, and it took a good few seconds for him to catch his breath. Bringing his hands out from underneath, they shot out to you. Rough hands grabbed your thighs and squeezed, head turning to capture your lips that were against his ear. The sloppy kiss consumed both of you, tongues swirling all over and in each other's mouths. Alhaitham tilted his head to fit with yours more, his tongue moving over the underside of your teeth and more.

calloused hands hastily glided under the shirt you wore and played with the landscape of your back, which made you groan into his mouth. he happily took it all in as his tongue ravaged your mouth. one hand was taken from under your shirt and put on the back of your head to push you into his lips more. the other hand moved a bit lower to your waist, bringing your hips to press you down onto him with passion.

Breaking apart, he sat up with you, smirk played on his god-like features. That look was deadly, and meant that you were far from done helping him. slowly, he put pressure between his still hard cock and your wet core. his hips rocked into you while he watched your face.

"Oh…i was tired before, but now you've got me so riled up haven't you? how am i supposed to sleep with all this energy? you'll help me get tired again right?"

those sheets were well messed up when you two continued into the afternoon. you had worked his energy up, so now he had to expend it. it was a mess of lust and passion and neither of you could push away the feelings. no one would interrupt. it was just you two in the creaking bed long into the dusk hours.

Guys bye-

Masterlist!

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d0llcuries · 3 months ago

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LUVVSICK

pairing(s): neteyam x fem na'vi! reader

summary: hcs (sorta) of neteyam having a crush on you and him lolly-gagging around until finally pulling it together to court you officially!

before neteyam even realizes he has a crush on you, there are signs—tiny, almost insignificant to him at first, but glaringly obvious in retrospect. it’s the way his eyes naturally gravitate toward you in any group, how he always positions himself somewhere in your line of sight. his heart does this strange, uneven lurch when he catches glimpses of you, a sensation so new and unfamiliar that it leaves him feeling slightly off-kilter. he notices the way you tuck a stray braid behind your ear when you're deep in thought or how your lips press together in concentration when you're sorting herbs. there's a quickening in his pulse when you do this—an ache that flutters low in his stomach. he tells himself it’s just because you’re part of the clan, a valuable gatherer, someone he should keep an eye on for the sake of the tribe. but deep down, he knows better, and the way his breath hitches slightly when you pass by is a telltale sign.

it starts with small things—nothing too obvious, nothing that could raise suspicion in his own mind. like the way he volunteers to help when you're assigned to tasks near the outskirts of the village, far from the busy commotion. his heart races when you smile gratefully, the sensation spreading warmth through his chest. it’s subtle, like when he offers to carry the heavier baskets of fruit back from your morning gatherings, even though you can handle it on your own. there’s a quiet thrill in being close to you, in the way your fingers occasionally brush against his when you hand him something, sending sparks up his arm. and when you laugh, that soft, melodic sound, it sinks into him, echoes in his bones, making him feel weightless. at first, he brushes it off as nothing. surely, he’s just being polite, right? he’s neteyam, after all, the eldest son, the responsible one. but still, there’s a tiny flicker of something more that he can’t quite shake, an intoxicating pull toward you that he’s never felt with anyone else.

he finds excuses to be around you, little reasons to linger longer than he should. there’s an undeniable spark that makes his heart stutter in his chest when you catch him staring too long, when his gaze locks with yours, and he feels the air grow thicker between you. maybe it’s how he’ll sit nearby while you weave new nets or repair tools, his fingers occasionally fidgeting with a stray blade of grass as he talks about his duties or his family. or how he always seems to know when you’re about to head out to gather, offering to accompany you under the guise of wanting to “patrol the area.” yet, even on those patrols, he’s quieter than usual, stealing glances your way when he thinks you aren’t looking. the sound of your voice, the way it lingers in the air like music, sends shivers down his spine.

and then there’s the way he starts to notice the smallest details about you. how you braid your hair differently when it's hot outside, the delicate patterns of your jewelry that change with the seasons. his heart skips when he realizes he's memorized these things, like each detail about you has etched itself into his mind without him even realizing it. he memorizes the colors of the beads you wear, the ones you crafted yourself, how each one seems to hold a story that he’s quietly fascinated by. it gets to the point where he can recognize your scent—something earthy and sweet, like freshly picked fruit and wildflowers. every time he catches it, his senses buzz, his pulse quickening, and his mind racing with thoughts he’s never allowed himself to entertain. he’d never say it out loud, but when he’s close enough to catch it, it fills him with a mix of comfort and excitement so overwhelming it leaves him dizzy. still, he doesn’t quite understand it. not yet. he's obsessed!!

he doesn’t get away with it, of course. lo’ak, always quick to catch on, teases him relentlessly, making exaggerated sighs and dreamy faces every time you’re mentioned. “bro, just got talk to her! you look like a stalker, it's sad.” lo’ak teases, who only glares in return. kiri joins in also, even tuk, who’s usually innocent in these matters, giggles and teases him when she catches him staring a little too long at you during meals or ceremonies. he tries to shrug it off, act unaffected, but his ears burn, and his heart races every time his siblings bring it up. his mother, though, is the worst—every time she catches that soft, faraway look in his eyes, she gets teary, wiping the corner of her eye as she watches him. “my little neteyam, in love,” she murmurs with a smile, and though it makes him want to disappear into the ground, there’s a quiet part of him that doesn’t mind so much, because it’s you they’re all talking about.

when he starts courting you, though, it's not an immediate shift. it's slow, almost too subtle for him to even realize what he’s doing. his heart races more frequently now, especially when he catches himself staring at your hands, imagining them weaving beads or sorting herbs. it begins with the way he pays just a little more attention when you're speaking, hanging onto your words like they're the most important thing he’s heard all day. your voice—how soft and kind it is—reverberates in his chest, making his pulse quicken. he listens, truly listens, and stores away bits of your conversations like they're sacred. when you mention something in passing—a plant you’ve been meaning to find, a bead color you’ve run out of—he’ll make a mental note. days later, he’ll show up with that exact plant, that exact bead, offering it casually like it was no big deal. but inside, there’s a nervous flutter, a hope that you notice the effort, his heart pounding as he waits for your reaction, unsure why he cares so much.

he becomes protective in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. his heart clenches when he thinks of anything happening to you, a strange, tight sensation that makes him restless. it’s not that he hovers or tries to shield you—he respects your independence far too much for that. instead, it’s in the way he quietly makes sure you're always safe, checking the areas around your usual gathering spots before you arrive, ensuring no dangerous creatures are nearby. or how he watches from a distance when you’re working, just in case. the idea of something or someone hurting you makes his skin crawl, an overwhelming urge to keep you safe bubbling up in his chest, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. his worry is silent, never voiced, but you can feel it in the way his eyes soften when you catch him staring too long, how he’ll offer his hand to help you down from a high ledge or through a tricky patch of forest terrain.

and then there are the gifts. in na’vi culture, gifts are important, a sign of affection and care, and neteyam starts leaving small things for you—a particularly vibrant flower, a perfectly shaped stone, an intricately carved piece of wood. each time, his pulse quickens, heart hammering in his chest as he places the items somewhere he knows you'll find them. nothing grand or overt, just little tokens that show he’s been thinking about you. and oh, he’s so awkward about it, too. his heart races when he drops them off without a word, sometimes not even looking you in the eye when he does. if you ask about it, he’ll brush it off, mumbling something about how he just thought you might like it, his ears twitching slightly with embarrassment, his palms suddenly clammy. but his pulse doesn’t settle for hours afterward.

the teasing starts soon after. he pokes fun at you in the softest, most endearing ways, never cruel, always playful. his heart flutters when you banter back, your laughter filling the space between you like sunlight. he’ll make comments about how you get lost in your work, or how you always seem to have a smudge of dirt on your face after a long day of gathering. but beneath the teasing, there’s a tenderness. a desire to see you smile, to make you laugh, because there's something about the way your eyes light up when you laugh that makes his heart stumble in his chest. it’s exhilarating, making him feel lighter, freer. sometimes, when you’re not looking, he lets his gaze linger on your smile, wondering how he could ever get used to something so... captivating. the way your laughter softens and your gaze meets his sends his heart into overdrive, every time.

his jealousy is quiet, subtle, the kind he’d never admit to. but when he sees other guys laughing with you, spending time with you, his heart clenches, his stomach twisting in a way that makes his breath catch. he can’t help the small tightening in his chest, a gnawing feeling that tugs at him in ways he doesn’t quite understand. he won’t say anything, won’t act on it, but there’s a shift in his demeanor, the slightest tension in his shoulders. maybe he’ll stand a little closer to you afterward, a silent claim, even if he doesn’t fully understand it himself.

from that moment on, his efforts become more deliberate, but still, in that neteyam way—quiet, respectful, never overbearing. he’ll start lingering a little longer when you’re alone together, letting the silences stretch out, hoping you’ll fill them with your thoughts, your voice. he wants to know everything about you—what you think about when you’re alone, what dreams you have, what fears. he starts touching you more, little, fleeting gestures—a hand on your arm, a brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something. each time, it sends a thrill down his spine, a reminder of just how much he wants to be close to you.

with his word, neteyam is quiet, yes, but when he speaks to you now, it’s softer, more personal. he’ll compliment you, not just on your appearance but on your skills, your intelligence, your kindness. he’ll talk about your future, in vague terms at first, testing the waters, but slowly, his words become more pointed. he starts imagining a life with you, and he’s not subtle about it. he’ll mention how you’d make a great mother one day, or how your skills as a gatherer would be invaluable to the family he hopes to build.

he starts inviting you on more personal adventures—flights with his ikran, exploring hidden parts of the forest, places only he knows. these aren’t just casual trips. they’re moments meant to show you that you’re special to him, that he wants to share his world with you, the parts of himself he doesn’t show to just anyone.and when he finally tells you how he feels, it’s not some grand confession. it’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s still not entirely sure you’ll feel the same. but his eyes, his touch—they say everything he doesn’t. they tell you that you’ve been on his mind for longer than he realized, that he’s been falling for you in ways he never expected.

and when you finally say something in return, his whole world tilts on its axis, and he can’t help but wonder why he hadn’t seen it sooner.

word count: 1,776

if u have an criticism (constructive or not) feel free to voice it ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

#neteyam x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #avatar way of water #neteyam fluff #neteyam oneshot #neteyam #d0llcuries stuff ꫂ ၴႅၴ

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