#GIVE US ANOTHER DANCE YOU COWARDS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

krosiefics · 9 months ago

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a taste of dispatch • danceracha x reader

M D N I 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: you are a Dispatch reporter, and while following some members of Stray Kids, you finds yourself in a situation, where the three members of DanceRacha wanna fuck you?

Tags: afab!reader, submissive!felix, dom!minho, switch!hyunjin, dispatch!reader, cnc(kinda), pure smut, pwp(?), piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), foursome, grinding, use of y/n, rough sex(?), overstimulation, cowgirl, doggy style, missionary,fingering…I feel like I’m forgetting some sorry

Today started off like any other day, another normal daily routine, get up, go to work, stay outside entertainment companies to snap photos of idols for the public. Sure people say your job is wrong and immoral, but you’ve gotta survive somehow. And that leads you to right now. Standing outside the JYPE building, no idols were scheduled to make a public appearance here today, but sometimes you like to come to the companies in case there is a sighting. The unannounced ones usually sell for more money.

It's cold and raining out today, it’s also near midnight. As you’re about to leave, three figures caught your eye as they walked out of the entrance of JYPE. Two of them had hoodies over their heads and another with a bucket hat, all three had masks on. Sure they could be employees of the place but one of them had purple hair poking out of his bucket hat. That made you suspicious of them.

You discreetly followed behind them, not too close but enough to make out their faces. Even through the masks you could tell it was the dance subunit of Stray Kids, DanceRacha.

They made their way down the streets of Seoul with two umbrellas in their hands as if they were any other person, bystanders too immersed in their own world to even bat an eye at them. They stroll down a popular club district street and look around before walking into a building with almost no light except the one outside. Heh, got you now. You think to yourself as you follow them in. You’re not dressed like how you’d think a paparazzi would, you have casual clothes that you dressed up slightly. You never want the idols you follow to realize they’re being followed by Dispatch. Sometimes you feel bad for the idols that you’re practically forced to follow. You want to give them their personal space, but making a living is hard and you’re not about to go sell feet pics online.

You open the door to the building and take only a few steps in before the door is slammed behind you and an audible click is made. Though it was dark, the faint light from outside shined through the small window by the door allowing some light inside. You whipped my head around to the door and there stood, in all his glory, the Hwang Hyunjin.

“See I knew someone was following us hyung.” He smirks down at you, a small huff escaping his lips. “What do you want from us, pretty lady?” You did not expect him to say that- especially the way he did…so sultry.

“What sorry,” You threw your hands up weakly in defense, “who are you?” “Don’t act coy with us doll, you’re one of those stalker sasaengs aren’t you?”

You pinch your brows with disgust, “First of all, how dare you think I’m a ‘sasaeng’, and second I don’t even know who you people are-“

“Then why were you following us all the way from the company building?” The freckled faced idol asked. “I had just gotten out of work and it started pouring as I was passing that tall building you three came out of, I was hoping to ask if you had an extra umbrella, I noticed you came inside and so I took the opportunity to ask.” You lie through my teeth, hoping your facade would fool them. You had to admit it was a stupid lie and wasn’t likely going to fool them, but you still had to try at least.

“Oh.” Hyunjin frowned, “I’m sorry, I just assumed-“

“She could be lying.” The cold faced man who hadn’t said a word spoke up. Minho eyed you up and down as you coward. “I’m not- I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.” You back up towards the door. “You’re not going anywhere, doll.” Hyunjin says as leans against the door sexily.

“You really don’t know us darling?” Felix speaks up, asking as if they were the most known people throughout Korea, which is true, they are one of the most known people in Korea. “No, I don’t really keep up with celebrities or influencers.” You fib. “So, what do you do for fun then, doll?” The taller of the three looks over you.

“Take a walk…go shopping? I don’t really get too much time off work.” Now that’s not a lie, you don’t really get to do “fun things”. You follow idols around even when you’re not scheduled to.

“Do you wanna have some fun?” Felix moves closer to you. “What?”

“With us.” He responds.

Wait what-

Suddenly a hand wraps around your hip, squeezing at the flesh there. You know it’s Hyunjin, he’s the only one who is behind you. The touch of his lips on the side of your neck makes your body tense. What the fuck is happening right now?!

You laugh awkwardly trying to get these boys off, suddenly Minho inched his way closer to you, he reached his hand out and took hold of your backpack strap, sliding it down ever so slowly all while maintaining eye contact with you, it gave you butterflies. “What are you-“ He cuts you off with a kiss on the corner of your lips, you struggle to wiggle your way out of their grasp but as Minho’s lips move further down your neck, it feels just too damn good to not want more.

“Hey I wanna taste.” Felix mumbles from behind. Felix takes Minho’s place, leaving wet kisses along your neck. Unbeknownst to you, Minho started searching your bag. “Hah, so you are a sasaeng.” He says holding your camera. Shit. “No, I’m not.” You protest sternly, the younger boys are indifferent to the fact that Minho just pulled out a professional camera. “Oh, Dispatch.” He pulls out your employee badge from the side pocket of the backpack. “Miss…Y/N.”

“So you do know us doll.” Hyunjin licked a stripe up your neck.

Shit shit shit, how do I get outta this situation?!

“Hyung.” Felix whines in your ear as he suddenly starts grinding against your hip. “H-Hey!” You stutter through your teeth while Hyunjin stops his verbal teases and lets his mouth wander up your neck towards your cheek. “Wh-What are you gonna do to me?” You cower as Minho steps in front of you, he leans forward so that his face is a few inches away from yours. “Whatever you want, want us to make you feel good? You could write an article on how good we fuck you.” You gulp at his words. You can feel his breath on your face as his eyes flicker down at your lips, you subconsciously lick them triggering a smirk from the older boy.

“Would you like that? Hyune’s mouth on your tits,” Minho hisses as he, hesitatingly, cups your breast through your shirt. He raises his eyebrows at you as if he were asking you if you were okay with what he was doing to your body. You notice his antics, You bite your lower lip, nodding at him to continue.

“Really? Hyune, I think she wants your mouth on her tits.” Hyunjin perked up at Minho’s sultry words. “Can I kiss you here doll?” Despite all of their actions so far, Hyunjin stills asks for consent to kiss you on the lips. You nod in response though he shakes his head, “Words darling.”

“Yes, please.”

What is happening right now? Why am I letting them do this, why do I want them to do this?!

The overwhelming lust that fills your mind begins to overload as Hyunjin locks his lips on yours. His lips were slightly chapped though you didn’t care, they felt so good against yours. His hands swat Minho’s away and roughly cups your breasts, you gasp at his action, he takes the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You failed to notice Felix pulling away from your hip, not until you opened your eyes while Hyunjin slipped his hands under the hem of your t-shirt.

Felix sat on a sofa nearby palming his crotch through his pants. Minho was fiddling with something on the wall, he finally managed to find whatever he was looking for and a light appeared from a side table by the sofa. Though it was a small light, it illuminated the room, allowing you to see the boys who surrounded you in better lighting.

“Sofa?” Hyunjin hummed against your lips, you hummed against his lips in response, not wanting to pull away.

Hyunjin placed his hands on your hips and guided your bodies towards the couch. He lowered his body onto the sofa, you settling on top of him as his hands explored the sides of your torso. A pair of cold hands touched you on your lower back under your shirt, hesitantly pulling it up. You tilt your head to the man who is doing the action, Hyunjin continues kissing your cheek and neck messily. Felix frowns at you as if he was just caught doing a crime.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You simply shake your head, lifting your shirt over your head, allowing the blonde freckled boy to gaze over your exposed chest. Though you’re still wearing a bra, you can tell he’s imagining you without it. Hyunjin pulled away from you when you took off your shirt, you glanced back over at him as he stared hungrily at your open skin.

“Hyung, how do you want us?” He asks Minho without ever looking away from you and your body.

Almost forgetting the eldest was in the room, you turned your head around towards the purple haired man. His eyes pierced into your own, as if he was waiting to attack. Minho purses his lips in thought as he nears the two of you again. “Well since I doubt Felix will last any longer, let him fuck her first, no?”

“Hey!” Felix exclaims as if he were offended, but secretly he was glad that he was offered to go first. Hyunjin simply shrugged in agreement, “Lix, how do you want her?”

“Shit,” The freckled boy breathed out as his hands went to your hips, “on top.” He said after a few moments. Hyunjin swiftly guided you off of his body and held you as Felix quickly undid his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down in one go before positioning himself next to Hyunjn.

Hyunjin’s thin hands caressed your sides as he helped you out of your sweatpants and guided your legs over Felix. The youngest boy stroked his cock as you settled yourself just under it, on his thighs. “Shit, can’t hold out much longer. Need to be in you darling.” Felix whined as he gathered your pantie lining and moved it to the side, allowing his cock to rub against your bare pussy.

“Oh God.” You moan out as you feel his warmth touch your skin. A pair of callused hands grab you by the waist hoisting you up slightly before aligning you to sink on to Felix’s cock. “Oh fuck!” You yelped the sudden intrusion causing your back to arch. Felix’s face scrunched up in pleasure as he filled your core with his warmth. Suddenly a pair of hands grip your hips, before even allowing you to adjust to the freckled boy’s size, lifting you slightly before guiding you to drop back down again. Another pair of hands made their way to your breasts, roughly massaging them as the other male forced you to bounce on Felix’s cock.

“W-Wait! Hyung!” Felix hands shoot up to your thigh, his fingers bruising them with how tightly he’s gripping them. “Shit, Imma cum.” Felix whines, his usual low pitched voice rising a few octaves at the stimulation. “It’s okay Lixie, you can cum. I wanna have my go soon.” Hyunjin said as he unclasped your bra, pulling it off your body and returning his hands to your now exposed breasts. The blonde’s hip starts desperately rutting up into your cunt. You support yourself by gripping onto Felix’s shoulder as the blonde thrusts into you and the oldest out the three boys gripped your hips, continuously pushing you down onto his younger friend’s cock.

Murmurs of curses flooded from Felix’s mouth, his usually tanned skin was now a shade of deep pink. His eyes shut and brows furrowed with pleasure. A few moments later of continuous assault to your lower region, the freckled boy finally spills inside of you. “Shit…my turn.” Hyunjin sighed before helping lift you from the painting boy underneath. “Look at her pretty tits, they’re so red from you grabbing them Hyune.” Minho smirked from behind you. He had detached his hands from your hips after Felix had cummed, you could still feel the pressure on your skin though.

“Hey doll?” You look to your left at the boy who was holding you up. You hum at him in question, “Can I bend you over?” Your cheeks flushed more than they already were, you simply nodded in response. Hyunjin shook his head disapprovingly, “I need you to say it please.” You hesitantly looked at his eyes before moving your body over the sofa, “Bend me over Hyun.”

Something snapped inside of Hyunjin, because next thing you know you already have his cock drilling inside you, the wet noises of your previous orgasm and Felix’s cum filled the room. “Shit, you look pretty like this, doll.” Hyunjin grunts as his hips falter slightly at his fast pace.

“You’re missing the way they’re bouncing though.” Minho hummed from your left, his eyes trailing over your chest.

Hyunjin’s thin hand moves to grope the flesh at your chest. His hips snapping into you as his free hand holds your waist. Your back aches from the position you hold over the sofa. Suddenly, a sharp pain spreads through your ass, a loud slap sound accompanying the pain. “Fuck doll, you’re ethereal.” Hyunjin sighed as his hips sloppily thrusted into your cunt. You knew he was close due to his sudden speed and uncoordinated ruts.

Soft groans slipped out of Hyunjin as he peaked at his climax, he poured himself into you. His arousal mixing with yours and Felix’s. Your arms gave out under you, you plopped onto the couch in a very uncomfortable position, though you could care less. Your body was too tired to care about comfortability. “So good.” Hyunjin breathed out to himself by your ear.

The tall boy slowly pulled out of your abused cunt. Flinching at the overstimulation, your eyes shut tightly. “Fuck kitten, you just had to take a break before my turn?” Minho’s voice was heard from behind. The purple haired man gently guided your body to turn over into a more comfortable position. Though it was weird to you that Minho was being so gentle as opposed to the way he was practically manhandling you prior.

“Here, just spread open for me, okay?” Minho cooed, bringing your legs apart leaving them to hang off the edge of the couch on each side of his hips. Allowing yourself to be used, your eye fluttered open from the sensation of another foreign force entering your leaking cunt. You whimpered as Minho slipped his cock inside you, though it was uncomfortable you didn’t want him to stop, you wanted more even though it started to hurt.

“Wait Min.” You weakly grabbed onto his biceps as he began thrusting into you. You whimpered as he talked you through it. “C’mon kitten, you can do it. Just let me use your tight little pussy for a little longer, yeah?” Minho’s breath ran down your neck, sweat beads falling, his hair sticking to his forehead. Your hands make their way to Minho’s back, scratching at the skin whenever he’d push too deep.

Your eyes filtered across the room landing on the two other boys who just stared at you with awe.

You weren’t self conscious this whole time, but now having made eye contact with the other two, that unusual feeling began to set in. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you might look like right now. You grew embarrassed by the thoughts of what the others could be thinking.

Felix and Hyunjin watched as Minho’s hips thrusted into yours so sensually, as your legs hesitantly wrapped around his waist- pulling Minho closer, they watched as you cried moans while maintaining eye contact with them. Just you laying there all open for Minho, the way he used you, it made them want to cum again.

A few moments later Minho finally reached his climax, his orgasm spilling over inside of you. You felt so warm inside, the feeling of the three’s cum filling you made you tingly. After cleaning up the mess they had made on the sofa and on you, they help you get redressed before redressing themselves. None of them thought it would get this far and you’d actually do the deed with them, they didn’t know what to do next…or better yet how to leave without seeming like a heartless asshole.

“You okay?” Minho asked as he handed you your work backpack, you nod at him with a tired smile. “I didn’t go too far?” His demeanor shifted, hoping that he really didn’t overstep any unspoken boundaries. “No, you’re fine. It honestly helped me relax from the stress of work…though my back does hurt like a bitch.” You chuckle, massaging your lower back.

“Here’s some water, pretty.” Felix smiled, handing over a glass of water. You take a small sip before your attention is turned to your phone. It’s ringing. You reach over for the phone and notice it’s your boss calling. Shit. You pick up the phone only for your boss to yell at you for not submitting photos that were due earlier that day, on time. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” You sigh after hanging up, grabbing all your things making sure you look ‘okay’.

“C’mere.” Minho motions for you to follow him out the front door, “We’ll make it seem like you happened to run into us.”

Hyunjin and Felix ran out after him. The rain had quieted down a bit to a small drizzle. “Stay there and just get a good shot.” Hyunjin winked.

You pull out your camera before snapping a quick photo when the three of them were distracted.

Maybe your job wasn’t so bad after all.

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

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face the consequences

ingrid x mapi x reader mapi talks you into being a brat. ingrid has no patience for it, and punishes you both. basically ingrid topping tf out of mapi and r.

smut. 18+

cw: light choking. dom sub dynamics. fingers. cunnilingus. strap on use. riding. biting? i guess? once? mentions of spanking, but no actual spanking.

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You knew you were in for when Ingrid didn’t even look at you as she all but pushed you into the backseat of the car, very unnecessarily buckling your seatbelt for you.

You knew earlier than that, really, when you’d let the random woman grind up against you on the dance floor, when her hands had drifted somewhere more than friendly, and Ingrid had gotten very sick of watching your little show.

It was Mapi’s fault, though, not that Ingrid would ever believe you. Mapi was her perfect girl, and you were… not. María had clearly been in a bratty mood, but was too much of a coward to act out herself, so she talked you into making your girlfriend jealous.

Ingrid hadn’t let it go on for very long before she was dragging you both out of the crowded club by your hands, mumbling about how she couldn’t just have one night out where you didn’t act like a slut. Your explanations that this had been Mapi’s idea had seemingly fallen on deaf ears, and eventually you gave up. You grew steadily more turned on as a tense silence filled the car. Mapi was rather pleased with herself, Ingrid was fuming, and you were frustrated, but more so excited. You wanted what was coming your way, you thought.

The Norwegian was possessive even when you hadn’t been draped all over another woman 20 minutes earlier. Now, though, she was downright pushy, pulling you out of the car and barely letting you go as she unlocked the front door and guided you into the house.

She had you fully in her arms, Mapi forgotten behind her, within a second, spinning you around and tilting your face up to look at her.

“Needy slut, hmm? Couldn’t wait for me to give you what you wanted? You had to get it from someone else?”

Wisely, you kept quiet, only blinking up at the brunette with a sheepish look on your face.

Ingrid regarded you for a moment, her fingers gently tucking your hair behind her ear. “How much did you have to drink?” She asked, face softening just slightly.

“Huh?” You replied, confused at the turn this conversation was taking.

“How much did you drink? You can’t be drunk if I’m going to do to you what I want to,”

You inhaled deeply. “2 drinks.”

That was apparently not good enough of an answer. “How do you feel?”

“Good, I’m good, Ingrid,”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t say you are good. You’ve been very bad tonight, darling.” She said condescendingly, and you forced yourself to keep your eyes on hers, even though the look she was giving you was rather intense. “You want to do this? You remember your safewords?”

“Yes,” you responded breathily, as her hand started to creep down from your lower back, gripping at your ass.

“Good. Go get on the bed. And take your clothes off.”

There was no room for conversation or argument, so even though you didn’t particularly feel like leaving your girlfriend’s sides, you moved quickly, heading into the bedroom, hearing a sharp gasp from behind you. You didn’t dare turn around to see what the cause of the sound was, focusing on the task Ingrid had set you, and only that.

Ingrid had Mapi pressed up against the wall, similarly to how she’d just had you, though Mapi wasn’t quite expecting it. She should have been, but the attention had been on you, and she hadn’t known Ingrid knew what’d she done.

“What happened to my good girl, hmm? I’m used to our princesa being a brat, but not you, mi amor. Never you. I’m disappointed.” Ingrid whispered, ghosting her lips across Mapi’s jaw.

Mapi whined, a pathetic sound she’d never admit to making. “I am your good girl, Ingrid,”

“Do not lie, María,” Ingrid hissed, wrapping her veiny hand around Mapi’s throat, applying very light pressure. “You told her how to act, and she listened, didn’t you?”

“Sí,” Mapi breathed, her brown eyes on Ingrid. The Norwegian hummed quietly, contemplating.

“Are you going to make it up to me?”

“Sí, claro que sí,”

“I know you will,” Ingrid cooed. “What do you think your punishment should be, baby?”

“I-I don’t know,” Mapi tried, blinking up at Ingrid with a slightly dazed look on her face, the domination the brunette was showing making her feel weak in the knees.

“Think, elskling. What would make you all needy? What would make your cunt drip for me?”

Mapi’s mouth was suddenly very dry, and she opened and closed her mouth a few times before answering. “Don’t let me touch her,” she suggested, hating herself for it as soon as the words left her mouth. She had no chance, though, not with Ingrid looking at her so intently.

“Muy bien,” Ingrid smiled. Per usual, the Spaniard felt her face flush at the sound of the Spanish phrase so heavily affected by her girlfriend’s thick Norwegian accent.

The look in Ingrid’s eyes was downright predatory, and Mapi felt a shiver run down her spine, knowing the Norwegian was not about to let either of you off the hook very easily.

Meanwhile, you were growing impatient. It had been a couple minutes, and you had done as Ingrid had instructed. You were kind of cold, though, and you ached for the feeling of either of your girls’ skin on yours. Perhaps more than that, though, you wanted something harsher, something rougher. You were pretty sure you knew how to get it too, so you let your hand trail down your stomach, settling over your hot core. It wouldn’t possibly feel as good as Ingrid or Mapi’s hands on you, but it would probably succeed in getting what you wanted. You weren’t quite understanding of Ingrid’s mood, though.

You kept your hand where it was, playing with your clit, as you saw your girls stumble back through the doorway, Mapi being backed into the room by Ingrid, the taller woman’s lips working insistently against the Spaniard’s. Ingrid’s eyes fluttered open very briefly, to make sure she wasn’t about to smash Mapi into the bed, widening when she saw what you were up to. Her lips broke away from your other girlfriend, but her hands remained all over Mapi, drifting under her shirt and playing with her chest.

“Stop.”

The look on Ingrid’s face, paired with the very simple command, had you freezing.

“You are not going to get what you want. I’ll touch you when I want, how I want. Hands off what is mine.” She warned, and you completely abandoned your plans, hands practically flying away from where it had been resting.

The brunette turned back to Mapi, who was looking at her with the familiar dreamy expression she got whenever Ingrid got bossy with you. Before she had time to react, Ingrid had her backed up against the wall again, this time falling to her knees before the older woman, and yanking down her pants and underwear impatiently.

“Fucking-Ingrid, jesus,” Mapi cried, when Ingrid’s mouth immediately attached itself to her.

“Shut up.” Ingrid warned.

Mapi’s hands scratched at the wall behind her, hovering over Ingrid’s head before she decided against it. She gripped the door jam in one hand, and clenched the other into a tight fist, her body already spasming under Ingrid’s precise tongue. Mapi was clearly unsteady, and Ingrid didn’t help matters when she gripped the other woman’s leg and threw it over her shoulder, giving the Norwegian a better angle.

It was torture, watching and not being able to do anything. You knew just what Mapi was feeling, too, the feeling of Ingrid’s tongue flicking over her clit, her fingers teasing over the Spaniard’s entrance before harshly pushing in and searching insistently for the spot deep inside. The spot that Ingrid knew would make Mapi fall apart in mere seconds. It was a point of pride for the Norwegian, how quickly she could make the both of you come, purely based on her own skill and how well she knew your bodies.

She knew Mapi very well, indeed, knew the minute the older woman began to tighten around her fingers, the minute her legs began to shake on either side of Ingrid’s head, that Mapi was close.

“Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid,” Mapi whined, her body jerking, trying very hard not to grind down too hard on her girlfriend’s face.

“Am I making you feel good, María?” Ingrid asked mockingly, pulling her face away as she spoke.

“Sí. Ay dios mío, sí por favor, más rápido amor.” Mapi cried out. Ingrid obliged, speeding her fingers up until they were sliding in and out rapidly of Mapi’s pulsing cunt, her entire hand covered in Mapi’s wetness.

“Are you close? Are you going to come all over my fingers?”

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” Mapi begged. She was, in fact, dangerously close, all thoughts of her behavior and her punishment fucked right out of her head. She wasn’t cautious, the way that you would have been, not used to being punished by Ingrid. You saw what was coming from a mile away.

Just as Mapi was about to come, so close she could feel her orgasm beginning to ripple through her body, Ingrid withdrew her fingers and stood up, a very satisfied smirk on her face.

“No, Ingrid baby, no,” Mapi cried, her legs not quite strong enough at the moment to hold her up. She stumbled forward just slightly into Ingrid’s arms, and the laugh that echoed through the room was soft, not cruel, adoring and not teasing. The Norwegian held Mapi easily, whispering sweet reassurances in her ear, as she guided the woman over to the bed.

Mapi flopped back onto the bed, pouting up at Ingrid, until your face leaned over hers.

“Well.” You teased. “Ingrid’s perfect girl being punished? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Still, your hand cupped Mapi’s cheek, and you left a light kiss on her forehead. Mapi could only grumble incoherently in response. She was kind of embarrassed, honestly, at how easily Ingrid had gotten her to fall apart. You deserved a lot of credit, it seemed, for lasting so long through Ingrid’s teasing and punishments before you started begging. Mapi had barely lasted one ruined orgasm. Just as she was about to comment on this, she heard you let out a low, drawn out moan, and her eyes flew open.

Ingrid had you bent over the side of the bed, her fingers lightly teasing you. The red bite mark on your left ass cheek told Mapi exactly why you’d just made that sound, especially when Ingrid was still barely touching you.

A fact you were very aware of. Ingrid hadn’t wasted any time getting to work on Mapi, but she was taking her time with you. You knew why, and you weren’t sure about it. You’d been a massive brat, yes. And normally, this would warrant Ingrid’s favorite punishment to dish out, one which would leave your ass red for days. You just… weren’t feeling it today. When Ingrid punished you like that, all the attention would be on you. She’d work you up to it, focus on you, before making you take it. She hadn’t done that today, which was fine. You needed something different from her, though, and you knew you had to speak up, or she’d continue with what she was planning.

“Ingrid,” you said, voice slightly muffled by the duvet under you.

“Hmm?” She responded absentmindedly, her hand stroking easily over your ass.

“I don’t want that tonight?” You mumbled, more of a question than a statement.

Her hands left your body briefly, before she flipped you onto your back, and hovered over you, her face only inches from yours.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You knew what her real question was. Were you drawing a line, or being a brat?

“Telling,” you whispered. Her lips met yours in a soft kiss, and you settled into the comfort and familiarity of it.

“Okay.” She said against your mouth, smiling at the glazed look in your eyes at a simple kiss. “I have something else in mind, then,”

“Okay.” You replied breathlessly, agreeing without a second thought. Her green eyes were blazing with excitement, and you knew whatever was coming, it would be a lot.

Her weight was off of you in an instant, moving quickly as she rifled through the drawer with all the toys, selecting the perfect one before also grabbing Mapi’s strap.

“You’re going to ride María. Now. You can get yourself ready while she straps up.”

And you did just that. Her permission flipped a switch in your brain and it was only seconds before you were spreading your legs open and burying your hand in between. You were dripping already, from watching, from Ingrid being so close to you, from hours of pent up energy in anticipation of tonight. You took two fingers easily, eyes falling shut as you focused on the task at hand, ignoring the movement on the bed behind you, and the words exchanged.

“She’s going to ride you, but you can’t touch her. Do you understand?”

“Ingrid,” Mapi whined.

Ingrid shook her head smiling to herself. “No, baby. You picked it. No complaining.”

You let out a pleasured sigh, and the Norwegian fixed her attention on you. “Enough. Come here.”

Regretfully, you withdrew your hand and moved, clambering on top of Mapi and settling yourself over her strap. She didn’t move an inch, her hands gripping tightly to the duvet, though her eyes roved up and down your body with a distinct hunger.

Ingrid retreated to her favorite place to watch the both of you from, the leather chair in the corner of the room. She settled there, sitting back relaxed, as if she was about to watch a movie, not watch her girlfriend get herself off on her other girlfriend.

You turned your attention back to Mapi under you. She was the reason you were in this predicament to begin with, and you decided to make this as difficult for her as possible, lining yourself up with the strap and sinking down onto it with an almost pornographic moan.

You threw your head back, allowed your fingers to pinch at your nipple, and began to rock up and down, slowly, and then faster, finding the perfect angle for the strap. It was a bit of a stretch, but one that you were more than willing to take. You let your audience know how good you were feeling, how good you were making yourself feel, a steady stream of curses and whimpers leaving your mouth.

“Good girl, putting on a show for us. You look so pretty riding María, don’t you? So pretty fucking her cock.” Ingrid said softly. You opened your eyes, glancing back to find her watching Mapi intently. You turned your attention to the woman under you, and withheld a grin.

“You’re making María go crazy, aren’t you?” Ingrid called.

You definitely were. For as good as Mapi felt inside of you, her strap the perfect shape and size to fill you just the way you needed, enough that when you clenched around it, you really felt it, Mapi looked like she was about to explode. Her face was red, her hands a stark white from how tightly she gripped blankets under her. Her whole body was tense, her ab muscles on full display as her eyes followed you up and down, up and down.

“Neither of you can come until I say so.”

At this, you both let out a frustrated huff. The strap Mapi was wearing had a vibrator attachment that Ingrid had obviously utilized. Every movement from you jolted it inside of the Spaniard, and combined with the friction of the actual strap on her clit, she was getting close.

She had nothing on you, though, as you tipped forward, forgetting about putting on a performance and making Mapi pay for making this punishment occur in the first place, too lost in the pleasure, lost in the sensation of your climbing orgasm. You were fighting it, trying to fight it, that much was obvious to Ingrid. You gripped Mapi’s abdomen under you, nails scratching at the skin, making the other woman squirm, but you were past noticing and past caring.

“Ingrid, I can’t-” you warned her.

“Yes you can. If I say you can, you can.”

Mapi was biting her lip now, her legs twitching under you. She so desperately wanted to fuck up into you, take over and give your shaking legs a rest. Get you under her, and rail you. But Ingrid said not to touch. And Mapi had already been bad tonight. She wasn’t planning on doing it again.

“Don’t slow down,” Ingrid warned, and you let out a rather undignified whimper.

“Please, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please just let me come,” You begged, pride forgotten as you tightened every muscle in your body, trying to fight it off.

That was, apparently, all that Ingrid was waiting for. “You can touch now, María. Fuck her.”

It was like Mapi had known all along the instructions she’d receive, because the words were barely out of ingrid’s mouth before she had you under her, her face buried in the crook of your neck, thighs working to fuck into you rapidly.

She grunted quietly with every thrust, gripping tightly to your body. You were blabbering nonsense at this point, your girlfriend’s names barely understandable as your back arched. Mapi hadn’t been as close as you, and she didn’t slow down when the first orgasm hit you.

No, she only sped up, until you were screaming her name, tightening around her strap as one orgasm turned into two, and Mapi could barely move inside of you. It didn't matter, because she’d gotten herself there, too, a guttural groan fighting its way out of her lips as her hips stuttered and thrust into you one last time, her body weight practically collapsing on top of you.

You weren’t sure you were on earth anymore, half sure you’d ascended into heaven. Words weren’t an option, and moving was barely an option as Mapi pulled herself out and rolled off your body, gasping for breath along with you as she stared dazedly at the ceiling.

Soft Ingrid was back, instantly, climbing onto the bed next to you and checking in, her soft fingers tracing a pattern over your cheek until you opened your eyes.

“Okay, my love?”

You could only nod, and Ingrid chuckled at the fucked out look on your face.

“María, niña bonita, estas bien?” She asked, looking over to the other woman.

“Good, good. Your turn.” She murmured, leaning up on her elbows, and directing a very enticing smile in Ingrid’s direction.

“No, mi amor, it’s alright.” The Norwegian tried to insist, but Mapi was unrelenting, removing the strap from herself, and getting everyone situated how she wanted.

Of course, Ingrid only allowed this because she wanted to. Mapi wouldn’t dare manhandle the other brunette if she wasn’t sure she’d be okay with it. No, Ingrid let herself settle back against your chest, with you propped up on some pillows. She rested her head on your shoulder, feeling your hands lazily tease at her chest.

Mapi settled between her legs, finding her absolutely soaked, and knew it wouldn’t take much. You were still on another planet, practically, listening to Ingrid’s soft moans and whimpers as Mapi worked her up.

Even when she was technically under her girlfriend, Ingrid wasn’t one to let up control, or let anyone forget who was in charge. Her hands came to rest over yours, directing your movements on her chest. She kept up a steady stream of instructions and praise, something that always made Mapi work harder.

“Fuck baby, there. Faster. I said faster María. Good, baby, your tongue feels so good,” Ingrid murmured, enjoying the feeling of your hands on her, of Mapi’s mouth on her, more than she could express.

Mapi had been right; it was only a few minutes before Ingrid’s thighs were clamping around the Spaniard’s head and she was crying out, fingers lacing into Mapi’s hair, before she relaxed completely, falling limp on top of you.

You kissed her cheek lightly a few times, feeling Mapi move up and lay practically on top of Ingrid, the Spaniard’s head resting on the Norwegian’s abdomen.

Because, at the end of the day, while you were at Ingrid’s mercy, she also relied on you more than anyone thought. Her sense of control in the bedroom made her feel inexplicably safe. The only thing that felt better was being pressed up against the both of you, completely content, completely satisfied. You never left each other unsatisfied, or unhappy, and all three of you were quite sure that you never would.

------

worked on this for three hours straight and im tired but i have no regrets

#woso x reader #woso imagine #ingrid engen x mapí leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader

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t1oui · 1 year ago

Text

“i’m going to marry you someday,” james says, running his fingers through regulus’s curls. regulus smiles, his ear pressed to james’s heart.

“yeah?” he asks. “when?”

“as soon as you graduate.” james’s heartbeat stays steady, like this is a regular conversation on a regular night.

“yeah?” regulus asks, glancing up, meeting james’s eyes. his eyes are gray like a storm, and they’re so, so beautiful. “how?”

james smiles. “in the fields behind my parents’ house,” he says. “in summer. we’ll have everybody there — sirius and moony and peter and the girls, and all your friends, too. it’ll be perfect.”

regulus settles his head on james’s chest again. “you have this all planned out, don’t you?” he asks. james stares up at the sky, searching and finally locating regulus’s star. his star.

“of course i do,” he says. i love you, he almost says, but he leaves that for another night.

“i’m going to marry you someday,” james says, pulling regulus closer. his laugh lights up james’s world.

“tell me about it,” regulus says, intertwining their fingers.

“we’ll dance like this,” james says, placing his hand on regulus’s waist. “all night. with everybody, all our friends. and we won’t get tired.”

regulus laughs again. his eyes are closed, and he’s pressed his cheek to james’s chest. “how will we manage that?” he asks.

james thinks for a moment, still swaying them back and forth across the floor of the astronomy tower. he’s never been good at multitasking.

“potions,” james decides. “and firewhiskey, probably.”

“mm,” regulus hums. “i won’t drink any.”

“no?”

“no.” he pulls back, opening his eyes, and smiles up at james, gray eyes twinkling. “i want to remember every second of it.”

“i’m going to marry you someday,” james whispers, trying to ignore the way his voice cracks. “and then i’ll get you out of here.”

regulus gives him a weak smile and scoots closer, turning around and pressing his back to james’s chest.

“tell me where we’ll go,” he says quietly. “when we run away.”

james swallows thickly, glances down at the mark on regulus’s forearm.

“away,” he says. “where they can’t hurt us.”

where i’m free, he doesn’t say, from you.

“i wish i was a coward,” james says, his eyes fixed on the sky. on that star — not his, after all. he looks away, but it doesn’t matter. tears cloud his vision. “i wish i didn’t have to run away from you.”

there’s no response. he’s not surprised. there’s nothing for the headstone to say anyway. james bites back a sob, wiping the tears away just in time for more to appear.

“i wish i didn’t have to run away,” he says, setting the ring down in the grass, “but i’m not sorry i left.”

#idk what this is #sorry?#i just felt like doing something angsty #i want it to seem like regulus might’ve never loved james idk if that comes across #hp fandom #harry potter fandom #hp #marauders era #jegulus #james potter x regulus black #james potter #regulus black #sunseeker #starchaser

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

Text

I Never Missed You 2/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.3 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Smutty smut ahead in this chapter. Brace yourselves for impact.

Part 1

You have to admit that you look dashing tonight.

And not because you want to turn people's heads at the party… But because you want him to look at you like you're the most forbidden snack he will never have.

It's selfish and petty, and you're just seeking attention. But at least you have the balls to admit it: you want Simon Riley to drool after you. You want this man on his knees. And nothing else has worked except that bra.

So you turn to the world's oldest weapon. A woman's weapon. Seduction.

"I'd suggest you keep a low profile until we're done."

He looks at you through the mirror while you finish your hair. Uses the word we instead of I. It makes your heart ache… And you take even that lecturing comment as a compliment. So he does think you look nice, or at least nice enough to stand out. You read into every look, every little tone of voice he gives you.

"I thought we were supposed to lure him in," you say while you neaten your necklace. Of course you look nice. You have done everything you can to look ravishing tonight: a deep-cut, thigh-revealing dress, cat eye makeup, red lipstick...

"Yeah but not like this."

"I'm not locking myself inside the house because of this," you announce pointedly. "I'm not afraid to live my life."

You turn and look him up and down, give him a little tilt of the head. "Don't you have anything else to wear?"

He doesn't shrink, doesn't bat an eyelash. Just looks down on you from that ivory tower of masculine prowess and makes you feel like a fool for being so dolled up.

"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness," he states, not falling for your attempts to make him feel small in your world. You suspect there is so much more to this man, but you don't care to know about the circumstances he grew up in, the situations that gave him that broken nose and lip. You don't want to know about his broken soul.

Or perhaps you do...

"I suppose you know everything about that," you say while looking straight at the uneven scar on his jugular.

"I do."

"Tragic past?"

"You could say that."

You feel even more silly, standing before him in all your glory, pearls in your ears and silver around your neck. You pay this man for his services; he's supposed to protect you. But something in his eyes told you from the start that there lies an abyss inside this man. And you didn't pay for that: a peek inside his heart. But a door is open a creak now, and what's inside is pure darkness.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Your cultured attempt to dance around his chasm makes those brown pools melt. Finally, he melts. But not to compassion, or mercy, or anything that would make you believe that you two understand each other.

He looks at you like you're a stranger from another planet. He's intrigued but doesn't quite understand how a creature like yourself has come to be. You're not only a child in his eyes but a coward as well for not daring to open that door to hell.

"What do you think," you hurry to change the subject. "Will I do tonight?"

He’s always so hyper-vigilant, his stare fixed on everything else but you. It feels childish, to be jealous of his attention when all he’s trying to do is protect you.

But now… Now that alert darkness bores straight into you.

"You look good in everything, ma'am."

A breeze of arctic wind goes through your scalp, and a fainting warmth settles in your belly.

You tiptoed your way to the fridge yesterday morning, before official breakfast, in your knickers and an old band merch from your youth - the one you still slept in sometimes because it was far more comfier than your silk pajamas. He walked in fully dressed and mighty while you were sneaking back upstairs with a glass of apple juice. The humiliation was overwhelming, especially when he dared to look you up and down in your state of underdress.

"Goodness… Sorry."

It should’ve been he who was supposed to say those words. But you felt like an intruder in your own house. It was a dangerous slip: to look so homely, with no brush stroke gone through your hair, with no toner on your skin. With no makeup and standing there before him in all your…you.

"No harm done."

He had never looked at you like that, and you swore right then and there that you would only descend those stairs with your full battledress from now on.

"Even in an old t-shirt…?" You ask with a tight voice. Desperate. Longing…

"Especially then."

Simon Riley strips you from your weapons and charades in a second. Your tight, seductive smile slowly falls off your face, and from behind it, a fragile, naked hope arises to gape at him. He clears his throat as if he just offered you an entire bowl full of ice cream when he was supposed to give you only a little scoop.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, calm and adamant, like a statue you would go to see at a gallery.

"I'm afraid we should be going already."

"Takes 5 minutes."

You purse your lips, and he's on his way to the bathroom before you can even give him your nod. The guy is used to military showers, then, and perhaps it's for the better that he puts on at least some effort.

When he comes out, you're sitting in the hallway, and he's only wearing a towel. It's the one you gave him when he arrived, the softest you could find from your closets. You remember how the first odd thought you had upon seeing this man is that he probably isn't used to softness.

And now you see why.

You can see the prominent veins and the sketchy forearm ink, his muscles are magnificent to the point of unholy, he has a delicious, thin layer of fat on top of his belly, and the eyelashes aren't the only breath of hair that's pale on this man… But he looks like he has gone through an inferno.

His back is full of scars, and half of his shoulder looks like it has been dipped into a deep fryer. You catch a hollow dent between his ribs, and there's more, but he walks to his room before you see the rest of it.

The taxi drive to the party is filled with silence as you try to digest what you just saw. You want to call your lawyer and demand him to tell you where the hell did he find this man and who Simon Riley truly is. Who exactly does he work for when he's not taking bodyguard jobs?

But the first thing you do when you arrive at the large party held in a small palace is to go to the punch bowl and down a glassful in one go.

He's on your heels the whole night, eyes everyone with a hawk stare, and does his job perfectly. He grabs your arm occasionally and whispers in your ear if someone seems suspicious. After one and a half hours, he comes to you and practically demands that you two leave. Normally, you would start an argument, but not tonight.

You kind of want to go back home, too. The people at the party seem tedious, and his scars have reminded you that even if you live in a world where violence is not the norm, it doesn't mean that other worlds don't exist. Otherworlds - where people get shot, stabbed, and blown apart. Whipped and cut and deep-fried. You're in danger, and it took his suffering to see that.

You have been so stupid that you just about wish someone would slap you.

Simon has been so patient with you that you nearly apologize on the ride back home. You want to beg his forgiveness and confess you have been a spoiled little idiot.

But again, that's not an easy thing to do. You turn to look at your forbearing bodyguard, ever silent in the taxi, and turn your voice to silk.

"You really should smile more," you suggest. He doesn't answer, just looks out your window as if there were perils there too. You suddenly realize anyone could shoot through the glass or the door at any given time. With a proper caliber, a bullet could pierce that window and coat his black shirt with the insides of your skull.

No. No. I'm not ducking my head.

There's no one there.

"Have you ever tried?"

You turn to humor and flirt to drive those intrusive thoughts from your head. He doesn't yet know that you're afraid, that you have been afraid this whole time. You should have bought that armored car.

"Am I your most annoying client ever…?" There's a smile on your lips, a little pardon for being so infuriating. His eyes drop there, then lift back up to your eyes with surprising seriousness.

"You're my first client ever."

Well… This was news.

"Oh. Why did you accept this job?"

His stare sails away from you and back to the London night. You stifle the urge to grab his hand, a fistful of his shirt, to draw his attention back to you. Every time he's around, you feel safe; every time he looks at you, everything else ceases to exist.

You want him so badly you could cry.

"They don't teach you manners at the SAS…?"

"No. They teach us how to kill."

You scoff and turn to look through the window, too.

"Brute."

"You're entitled to your opinion, ma'am."

When you reach your house, he uses that term again. You're 110 % sure he's only trying to annoy you.

"Good night, ma'am."

"Stop it," you nearly slam your purse on the table in the hallway.

"What?"

"The ma'am thing…!"

You sound like a wife who's looking for an argument after putting on a charade all evening. When the door to your home closes, volcanoes erupt, and bombs drop, your husband-like bodyguard gets the blunt of your fear and frustration.

But how do you argue with someone who never argues back? He's calm like the Pacific during a stormless season, always, always gets calmer when you're going berserk. He walks to the armchair in your living room like he owns the whole goddamn place and sits down with a sigh.

And there is a smile playing on his lips.

"What should I call you then?"

You look at him, dumbstruck, on that chair, spreading his legs like there's no tomorrow, arms comfortably on the armrests, and mouth drawn into a genuine, peaceful, thoroughly naughty smile.

"Oh, now you're smiling," you huff. The unbelievable audacity of this man… "Some ideas on what to call me popped into your head?"

"Verily."

"Go on then."

"Nah. You should go to sleep."

"I'm not going until you tell me."

You cross your arms over your chest to underline that ruling. His smile only widens. He looks wickedly delicious in that seat with his legs spread, and the chair doesn't swallow him like it swallows you. Actually, his shoulders are wider than the back panel of this enormous chair.

"Well," he begins, "’princess' came up first."

You try to catch what he just said through the stupor of wanting to climb on that wide lap.

"Truly? How original."

"Or spoiled brat."

You stop breathing for a second, then reel straight toward a spiral of–

"How dare you?"

You notice his eyes dropping to your heaving breasts again. This man is so different from a dinner-offering, cunning man in a suit. He has no pretenses whatsoever. He looks at you with that little smile, eyes burning, legs drifting apart even more, probably his cock stirring from how you are trying to chastise him. If you had pearls around your neck, you would clutch them. Or throw them at him.

"You son of a–"

"Pretty."

His next choice renders you speechless; it cuts through your insult before it even flees your mouth. You gape at him, jaw open, breathing and cheeks burning, pussy throbbing - soaked so thoroughly now that you feel a tiny droplet cascade down your thigh.

"Yeah. That's better," the man says as if he's also blessed with a Superman stare, knowing you're seconds away from drenched. "Better than brat or princess, anyway."

The darkness conceals most of him as he settles inside that massive chair he dwarfs. You are falling, or at least that's what it feels like. A tumble, a slip inside his Styx. But there's no bottom, and the water is warm ink, despite the fact that he's so blanched.

"Pretty…?" You whisper into that water, breathe onto the surface of his depths. The darkness answers immediately.

"Very."

Your swallow is a wet, nervous roll inside your throat when you sink into that river of lust and smoke.

You take your jewels off first, because you know he doesn't care for them. Money's not his chief interest, even if he's being paid. And fat, at that. But he's not here for riches, he’s not here for the jewels – or that's what you desperately wish.

The necklace and pearls are gone soon, tucked away on the table with your trembling digits, and he's sitting there like a statue.

You have no trouble with this dress: the zipper seems to cascade down on its own as you reach behind your back. He's motionless as you slip out of the straps that keep the dark velvet up. You feel like you're the Styx: but the darkness of the river pools at your feet as you let go of the gown, let go of everything and continue your freefall.

He doesn't move, doesn't give evidence that he's even breathing; he just sits there like a long-forgotten king.

The panic snares you with a drool-wet throat: you salivate not because of him but because of your nerves.

Are you… harassing him?

Does he want this…?

At least he thinks you're pretty – and you could laugh out loud; your thoughts are vain and petty, even when you're baring yourself before him in more ways than just one. Your breaths are audible distress inside that darkness, and he's still: everything's still.

But he moves when you reach for your bra.

It's just a hand that soars through the darkness, an involuntary reach for support and gathering of composure as his fingers find his jaw. They swipe across imagined stubble before he leans his head on that hand, just an ounce's worth of weight placed on his thumb and pointer as if he's simply in his thoughts. But the hawk stare is fixed on the lace covering your breasts as it falls on the floor too.

You hear his breaths now. Quicker on the inhale, heavy on the exhale. Your thumbs slide under the hem of the last piece of your veil, something you got from the store when you were feeling down. Now the underwear makes you feel better than ever - who would’ve guessed it's the moment you slither it off? Slowly, too: you’re being a tease, hip bones giving a two-second dance for him as he continues to watch you strip before him like the queen of the night.

You breathe in sync now, and your nipples perk up – he hasn't even touched you yet and you're more aroused than ever with a man.

Not a word spoken, and you fear you’re being delusional – if you've just imagined the heat between you two, but then those legs flare a hair's breadth more. His voice is the softest whip as it crackles through the void.

"Yeah... You're pretty. Now what?"

You breathe in gusts now. It's exhilaration, damnation.

"Jesus Christ, Simon."

The chair gives a creak as he rises, like an ancient shadow. Intimidating – intense, always, always, and you've been trying to coat him with soft towels and feed him toast. You wonder if he prefers black tea simply because it tastes more bitter than coffee rounded with milk.

Does he want this? Silly softness and toast and–

You get all your answers as he bends just enough to match your height, just enough to sweep you off your feet. Your hands go around his neck on instinct as he lifts you up from your rich, opulent Styx and into his sea.

You're quiet all the way upstairs – he can't fuck you downstairs, then, has to intrude on your luxury and privacy. You don't mind, especially when the steps give a desperate wail under your combined weight. He lets it sing its music to the night: your ruining already makes so much noise.

He reaches for his gun right after he’s placed you on the mattress. The sound of it is heavy when he sets it on the nightstand that has only seen glasses of water and apple juice and perhaps a few books.

He undresses with soldierly sharpness, no seduction there. But he doesn't have to seduce you: his stare and heavy-cold demeanor have already done that.

He's so, so different from the others… Looks at you on the bed like you're both a piece of tender sirloin and something akin to garbage. That's an accurate depiction of a princess, perhaps. You know wasps gather around both honey and bloodied meat.

He looks at you like that because you know nothing. And he's not here to ruin you… he's here to insert himself inside you like you're a foe that needs to be infiltrated, plundered and burned until you understand.

He's big. Daunting. A brute while you’re the princess, could be the sleeping beauty, the way you stay immobile and try to take in this man's sheer power. You saw him half naked already when he came from the shower, but it's nothing compared to seeing all that taut, scarred flesh up close, soon about to fall upon you like a broken mountain.

And what's between his legs is wholly proportional to the rest of him. That thing is a menace, and it's not even fully erect - hanging thick between thick thighs, foreskin revealing a fat, sloping tip, and he's veined all over…

Finally, your mouth goes dry.

His gaze sweeps your beauty, and that cock gives a throb – a good, hard pull that stretches out into the open air, and your eyes go wide. Then he prowls, like the king of the jungle, moving with a fluidity that must be scary to those who meet their end by this big brute’s violence.

You are able to take in air only when his hand falls next to your head. The other claims you by the middle as if to soothe you - but the truth is you're caged in like a tiny, quivering animal.

The hand is heavy as it slopes across your stomach and scales your mound. It doesn't cup or probe, only rests there over your most sacred place, like an enemy surrounding a city. Your thighs part slowly, hoping he would just sweep right in.

"This wasn't in the deal," he rasps as he looks down at you: heavy iron judging a diamond.

"Oh shut up," you breathe, thoroughly thrilled and shy. If you weren't lying down, his intensity would buckle your knees.

"Nor do I take orders from you, ma'am."

"I'm not- Don't call me a-"

His eyes spark as the hand dips down like a deep diver into the blue. You gasp a stunned whiff when he's met with a mortifying amount of slickness. Your arousal sings a pretty song as he draws a finger over your slit, the moist sounds followed by another stuttering sigh.

"Look at you all wet," he remarks, and you grit your teeth.

“Shut…up…”

"You know why I accepted this job?"

He wrecks you with one thick finger, rough skin lathering you with your own juice like he's trying to make a point here. And he is making a point: it comes across perfectly. The princess is a filthy mess for brutes…

And of course he was given a file on you too. With more than just one photo.

"Yeah," he rasps when you only look back at him with your felled deer helplessness. You could swear that he just heard your thoughts. "I think you know."

"You're–ah– a brute," you whisper, eyes shining. Your thighs part even more, feel yourself leaking over his fingers that stroke you agonizingly slow. You swallow with hunger, the need pangs on your cheeks. Your whole body is throbbing for him.

“Sticks and stones, love.”

He's so infuriating that you could slap him. Claw him, rip him apart. But you nearly laugh instead… It's far better an option to let him claw and rip you apart. He's tearing you apart right now, with those eyes and his hand, exploring you like you're the first course and he's here for the whole dinner. How can he be so calm?

"Could you…" You start, then realize you've never begged for this man.

"Hm? Talk to me," he commands. "Whatever ya want."

You whimper – from bliss or relief, you can't tell. The frantic need to serve is fully fleshed out in his tone. It surprises you. You thought he was here for his own pleasure.

You try to think through the bliss of his fingers. You've had all kinds of things... All you could ever want, most would say. But that's not entirely true. No man has ever promised to please you however you want.

"Could you go…"

"Go down on you?" He places a thumb, broad and hard, on your clit. Teases it with the slightest pressure and a circle. "Lick your cunt?"

Fuck…

He has no trouble saying it as it is, and you nod, still helpless.

"Sure. 'N after that I'll fuck you nice and good."

He's never, ever sounded like that before. Dark, and rich, the baritone reaching a level that speaks of hunger – no, need.

A brute, a pussy-drunk brute, the blood in your veins sing as he goes down. Nothing can prepare you for the way with which he manhandles his way between your thighs like they're only a petty distraction in the way. They're forced wide apart with a tight grip that speaks of urgency, but he takes his time to admire the sight bared before him. He’s drinking you in like ambrosia, towering above you while you’re being held open for him to just observe you like you’re a center-spread girl in a filthy magazine.

"You're fucking pretty down here, did ya know that?"

You don't even know what to say - his tone, his observation is base, and still, they're the most beautiful words anyone has ever said to you.

"No…?"

"Well now ya know."

He steals a final glance at you, and the fire in his eyes already makes your legs feel weak. He dives between your parted legs, right into your leaking, glistening folds, and you're suddenly glad that you've done all that yoga… Those shoulders are so broad they force your thighs even further apart as he makes himself home there between your legs.

A hot mouth presses against you like this man has been starving, even if you've fed him the best delicacies for days. An even, fat stroke is the first thing you feel before your toes curl and your head falls back.

"Goodness, Simon..." You try to keep yourself from stuttering as his mouth opens you like a flower. You should be quiet, for once, and let him do the job. He seems like an expert, even and especially there between your legs. "Do you-ah, always shag your clients?"

"Told you you're my first," he rasps a husky sigh on your folds. He could ruin you with that voice alone.... He gives you another sweep of his tongue, full and ample, and your fingers curl around the sheets, your hips buck; your ass drives up on instinct, trying to both escape his mouth and rub your pussy against those thin but eager lips.

"Don't worry," he tells your pussy with a warm chuckle. "This is free of charge."

You sigh, the first laugh of many up into the air. You're supposed to get angry, but you can't. You can't.

"Have… no words for you."

"Good. It's about time you stopped talking, love."

He grabs your hips to punctuate it that you should indeed shut up. Fingers sink into your flesh like you're a whole goddamn feast - no more fucking toast and teasing. His hands look so huge as they dig into your skin - so different from the hands of men who work in offices or wait for people to serve them. You upvoted those hands to be the best part of this man long ago.

And that bulk of muscle… Some of those men in suits might go to the gym, but they couldn't forge a body like his in a million years: that breathtaking mass built to work and endure harsh conditions. It's not a flex or a sculptured piece of art: it's simply survival - ancient and primal.

He's got darkness, and you got diamonds, but something tells you his depths are infinitely more valuable. You couldn't buy his intensity even if they sold it in the streets. The skull mask was self-made, everything in this man is self-made, and he's sampling what diamonds taste like, and you wonder… Does he think you're cheap, some fake piece of worthless junk? Does he laugh at how easy you are? That under your manners, you're only a spoiled brat and a promiscuous maneater…? Or that he couldn't care less, as long as he can push his cock inside you?

He gives you his best, that's for sure. A working man, with you as his assigned mission, and the feeling of being a spoiled little princess only increases. And how are you supposed to stay still if he's slow and attentive like that? You might be his first client, but you're not his first shag…

His lips seal tightly around your nub, suck it, lap it, sigh on it - he's already breathless from the need to make you moan and cum. A purpose-driven, ravenous man, and when he dips his tongue inside your cunt, your mind finally goes blessedly blank. Your legs shake and stretch, and you can’t prevent your hand from skimming down to grab his hair when he gives you deep, unhurried plunges with his tongue, huffing against you from the mad want to make you feel good.

You would never have guessed that Simon Riley would get such pleasure from licking a woman.

One hand disappears from around your thigh, and you guess it's one of his fingers that arrives, wide and thick, to tease your entrance. You can feel the smile on your folds as he slips it in, making you nearly jolt on the sheets. Your fingers instantly curl to tug that pale hair, to grab hold of something, and it makes him rumble inside you.

He doesn’t even wait for you to catch your breath as he adds another finger. Goes shallow at first, then pushes those fingers in to the knuckle. The feeling of being filled - and not being filled enough - is going to drive you crazy any second now.

"Simon…"

"Yeah?"

“I want you to… want you to…" you hear yourself choking on your beg as he works those fingers in and out of you while his lips are tight around your clit. He knows exactly what you're trying to ask.

And suddenly, it's he who breaks…

"Right. 'M gonna fuck you now, yeah?"

The spread is gone, and you're being moved - on your belly, and you briefly think whether it's because he can't bear to look into your eyes when he takes you. You don’t even have time to whimper from the loss of his fingers and mouth before heavy thighs force your legs aside. You’re being spread again, crudely, obscenely, like it’s just a procedure that has to be done. He’s both methodical and impatient, and you wonder - has he wanted to rail you like this ever since he saw you? Force you to lie down on your belly while he takes you from behind like a helpless damsel?

His hands come to your hips as if to make sure that you won’t run away from under him. As if you ever wanted to…

Something far fatter forces its way between your folds and straight onto your opening. He glides over your folds a few times, spreads your wetness all over his tip. Methodical still, but it makes you moan and swallow.

"Jesus…"

The lathering stops, the jutting cock settles right where your depths lie, and he chuckles. "Not quite, love."

Fuck…

Fuck this man's cheek and audacity. Fuck his size and pride, the way he knows what he's doing all the fucking time.

“Desperate for it?”

That stupidly fat cock just resides there, teasing your aching, leaking hole without going in. But it’s like he answers his own question because you feel the thick of him give a notch against your folds. So impatient. Thoroughly needy. It sends you further down the whirpool of desire, a searing white, fathomless deep..

“Yes..”

When he goes in with a leaden grunt, your muscles go into a spasm - he's too big, he hasn't prepared you right, and still, you force yourself to relax.

"Not what you expected?"

"It's… too much," you admit. He stops, realizing that for once in his life, he might've been an impatient man. Then he crawls forward, and you feel like you're about to be buried under a boulder as his weight bears down on you. Hands sink into the mattress on both sides of you, forcing you further up against him - you're floating, almost, to where you belong.

"Yeah? C'mon… You can take it."

You shudder. It's not even fully in yet?

He speaks too softly for it to be a demand, even when he's hovering on the brink of wanting to simply ram himself into your cunt. It's an encouragement. He’s cheering you on, like a coach. Or a leader... It’s leadership.

When you don't object, he starts to feed more of himself in. You try to remember how to breathe because you were wrong, you were so, so wrong - it was barely just the tip, and now you're stretched wide and tight. He's endless, and sinking in deeper, deeper….

And you want it so much - all of him- you want to grip him and never let go. One hand comes to sweep over your hip again, it caresses the swell of your ass, and you know he's looking down at how well you can take him after all.

"How are we doin'?"

Your lips are swollen, and your brows are creased tight. It's still not in…?

You’re fucked. Literally. But you can take him... You must.

You whimper when he slows down almost to a halt.

"Love. Tell me to stop 'n I'll stop."

"Just–gently," you whisper, brittle and shivering from joy.

"Don't worry. I got you."

Slowly, he arrives to the end of him and you. Hips flesh against yours, he’s out of breath before he even starts the thrusts. His length caresses places unfathomable in this position, and his weight is crushing you, even when he's supporting himself. It only feels like the safest place to be. Trapped there between your safe, soft bed and his safe, hard body.

The first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not uncomfortable; it’s just too much to take. You’ve never been so filled.

"Fuck…" He swears, somewhere between the third or fourth thrust. "You're…"

"Good…?" You offer him when he doesn't continue. You know he was possibly going to say tight or something crude like that and corrected himself before it spilled. He merely grunts as an answer - a barbarian through and through, you decree. And then the brute speaks…

"The best."

God. You feel like a diamond after all, but you've never been under so much pressure, fearing you might break.

"You-too…" It's a sad little mewl. You sound like a child trying to make friends. Latching a hook on him, no matter how tiny it is. One shake, one ripple from the behemoth, and it will fall loose.

"Don't go lying with that pretty little mouth," he warns.

"I'm not lying."

"Yeah…? Keep squeezing me like that and perhaps I'll believe you."

It's a strange feeling, to meet your mistrust and jealousy on him. He has no pretenses, but he has secrets, camouflage, and flash grenades that blind you from the truth. But even he can't hide it all when he's moving inside you, so close, so terribly close.

You melt into a pool of heat and want, trying to meet him midway by offering your cunt, arching your spine, driving yourself up to give him better access. What was possibly meant as a desperate fuck turns into a sweet, weightless rocking, a rhythm of him and you. The hands on your hip start to gain weight as he holds you still for him, at times even pulls you against his cock.

"C'mon… wanna hear you," he huffs, then slides one hand to your butt and gives it a fond squeeze when you won't instantly make noise. "You're always givin' me that cheek and now you're silent?"

It's a warm question, a thick baritone that settles into your stomach, then shoots downwards and makes you clench.

"Wh-what do you want me to say?"

"Want you to sing."

Of course the man who never talks won't shut up in bed. But he's not bullying you into submission, nor is he being mean. If anything, he sounds like he's finally on his knees.

And you don't want to be mean either. Not anymore. But you just can't help yourself from having a little fun now that he's finally desperate and inside you.

"Make me," you whisper, delivering your cheek with a wicked little smile.

The response is immediate: he dares to land a flat palm on your ass. Like you're a broodmare, a sirloin steak for him to feast on. And it does the job: you almost shriek, or at least that's how it sounds like when a parched little whine pushes through your vocal chords with violence.

"That's better," he barks, pleased with his work.

"You're horrible," you gasp. You're glad he put you face down on a pillow: you can only hope he doesn't see how happy you are in the darkness of his night.

"Yeah? And you're sweet."

It's said with gravel wrapped in silk. It hits you and ignites, starts a flame inside you without permission.

You want him in ways you shouldn't. You want… more breakfasts, him carrying you up the stairs, taking in the way you tip-toe around the house in an old t-shirt. You want to serve him back rubs and tea and see who he is when he's not being paid. You don't want a lap dog or a guard dog, you simply want...

Simon.

"I'm– I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch," you whisper. He sinks back on top of you until his nose nuzzles the back of your ear. He leans on his elbows, trying not to break you into too many little pieces, but the feeling of being confined couldn't be more blissful.

"Cock's that good?" He drags the following thrust, sparking your nerves aflame as he hits your core. But it's not brutal; if it is, it's the sweetest wrecking you could ever have imagined.

"Don't make me take my words back," your lips pull to a smile and a silent, inner laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He's smiling too. Inwardly, perhaps, but you can hear the mirth. His weight on top of you while you're lying under him on your belly, unable to move, unable to do anything other than take the full brunt of his cock as it spreads you open, is pure heaven.

"Want you to cum when I'm inside you," he rasps in your ear, lips brushing the underside of your jaw. "Think you can do that, princess?"

Being told to cum on command is a bit ridiculous, you think. But not when it comes from that Cockney mouth. Not when he asks so nicely. Your cunt pulls, claws at him.

"... I'll show you princess," you sigh, but it's only a second away from laughter. His fingers dig into your skin, the flush flesh of your ass. It feels possessive… Fond.

"Yeah. Show me. C'mon."

The camouflage gets slightly torn off by a wind of a smile. You can hear it on his lips. Sex should be fun, one of your friends always says. You had never thought about it like that. Bed is not the place for laughter and humor, you had thought. But now you are both on the brink of bursting with it.

"You're a fucking pretty one…" He grunts: a breathless, silent joy. "Know you want this as much as I do. Ain't that right?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought. So cum for me. Wanna hear the sounds you make."

You dance on the precipice already, and his voice causes your hand to shoot out to his. You drag that heated palm across your hips and your ribs, curl it next to you as if you were drawing a blanket over youself. It's a lover's caress, and his fingers slip between yours as he wraps around you like the protector that he is.

Your walls flutter, the thickness inside you makes you swell with every thrust. His hips are relentless as he buries himself into you with blunt force, his flesh clapping against yours and making your cunt clamp down on him. Sweet, sweet, sweet, your blood sings as your lids drift closed. The wave is coming, the final tsunami that will sweep you with it, and you will only succumb with joy.

"Don't-stop," you hear yourself beg through the heavy pants he's grunting on your neck.

"'M not gonna stop," he grunts into your ear, serious now.

"Fuh–Fuck me good and… hard," you're hiccuping through dry tears. It feels like there's a hammer and an anvil placed between your ribs. "I need you hard-"

"Shit…"

You barely grasp that he's about to lose his precious control before the midnight sea takes you under. The world fades into a tight know of blue and white and black, electric, ambient, something soft and hot at the same time. You're choking on your tears, moaning into the pillow like a poor, broken, tortured cat.

"That's fucking pretty," he swears on your neck as you cum. All humor is gone now, but he's not mocking you. He's just… emotional. The bulk of him rides you through the wave, but the rhythm of his hips becomes erratic.

"That's it, pretty… I'm gonna…Fuck," he huffs on your skin, a mist of want, and the cockhead rubs something profound inside you and makes you jolt in the middle of your molten euphoria. He grunts, swears, and does it again - bludgeons so deep it forces out a sob, just before he breaks too with a choked, wet swallow and a groan. A trembling colossus, you think, as he thickens and bursts inside you.

You're an aching mess when he comes, his thighs pressing over yours and forcing them far and wide as he buries himself into you to the hilt. He's a behemoth, spasming and crumbling right above you. The broad abs bunch against your back while his hips pin you down and spread you open. The cock pulses inside you, and you are barely able to think how it's a miracle that both his thick flesh and the pool of cum, all of it, just somehow fits there inside you…

A gentle brute until the end, he swallows again, thick and breathless, before giving a few tight rolls of his hips, emptying himself to the last drop. Slowly, you both still inside your bubble of warm, dark blue, something akin to a sea between a tropical storm and a calm sunrise, a drowsy reef shifting with the waves.

He's broken into a light sweat from the toil when he finally untangles your fingers. Your hips are kept in place with one hand as he slowly pulls out. You feel like you're left emptier than before, even if you feel the cum welling up inside, about to spill over.

Your bodyguard - your late-night fuck - collapses beside you, then reaches to pull you close again. Still back against his chest, still unable to look into your eyes when you're both vulnerable.

"I'm gonna get you a towel," his fingers tremble as he caresses your arm with the most delicate touch.

"No–don't, don't go," you whisper, then grab his hand and bring it back over you. You almost squeeze yourself with it. "Please?"

The tension behind your back decreases as he slowly falls back into bed.

"Alright love. I'll stay right here."

It's so peculiar how he reminds you of large water masses. A night sea under a pale moonlight. Not a stormy, roiling one, just a vast depth in an ever-swelling motion.

"I want… I need you to keep me safe," you whisper inside that swelling sea. You never want to come to the surface. You want to learn to breathe underwater. The heavy arm is draped over you; it covers nearly half of your chest as he sighs.

"Then let me do that."

His plea is not humble - nothing in this man is. He's not on one knee, swearing his allegiance and vowing to always protect you. He's not your Lancelot.

But in a way, his plea comes far too close to a beg. You feel a sting near your heart. It's electric, pure pain - the sweet kind, though, as you realize he doesn't only want to do his job… He wants to protect you. He has already tried his best to protect you while you run around like nothing is wrong.

"Simon… I'm sorry."

"I already forgave you," he hums on your skin, evidently glad that you two finally understand each other. It should send you laughing, the thought that you needed his scars and his…treatment to find common ground. And free of charge, no less.

"Do you still wish you were somewhere warmer…?"

He bows his head against the nape of your neck, and the gush of air from his nose is warm and jovial. "No."

It's hours till dawn, but you wish it would never come. The beauty of the night is only now unfolding before you. It feels far more safe than the violent dawn. You wonder how he would react if you moaned his name as you cum. If he would shudder. You wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you didn't already do it...

"Simon…?"

"Mm..?"

"What happens now?"

There's a pause, but he doesn't shift for more comfort. Still, the bullet vests and battle gears are back on; you just sense it.

"We're gonna get some sleep."

"No, I meant… What does this mean for us?"

"What do you think it means?"

Now he shifts, but only to draw you closer. You feel like jello as he pulls your scent deep into his lungs, then exhales the grace on your skin like you're the only tobacco he needs after a good round of sex.

"Don't worry about it, princess," he murmurs on your skin. So delicately that you could claim this man has never even seen the army, never barked and shouted and smoked his throat dry. "We'll talk in the morning."

You settle into his sea, an embrace full of gentle, heavy safety. It's the sweetest oblivion to slip in as you begin a dreamless sleep, soft and snug. But it's not merciful enough to make you forget that you two…

You never even kissed.

............................................

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threepandas · 2 months ago

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Bad End: Hoarding Dragons

To have your hair cut is the ultimate insult. Not just a spitting in the face of one's parents; but a defacement of their gift. One they worked so hard, for so long, to give you. Yet... so MUCH can be done. With just a single strand of hair.

Power. The likes of which? Most could not imagine. This is because, it is the sacrifice of "Body". A part of your metaphorical, if not technical, "flesh" as it were. Counted just as valid as any finger or toe. Yes, perhaps, not as POWERFUL as blood and bone, but... then again...

It is only a single hair.

So, what, one must ask? Would happen... Could happen... could one be GIFTED? From... MORE?

Not just one hair. But hand fulls. Chunks. A whole head of long thick locks? Hundreds and hundreds, thousands of strands? So very, very much of your "Body"? What power could you call upon? What sort of gods? Heavenly beasts and world shaking powers? Dragons, perhaps?

Shixiong bent the world to it's knees. Gods bowing, mountains shaking, as heavenly dragons came upon his command. Power so great it burst the spiritual veins of lesser cultivars. Qi thick as molten earth, golden as sunlight through honey. It was... transcendent.

The strands twisted into great and heavenly forms. Night turning to day. His array, a thing of intricate, thousand folding beauty! As a craftsman? A maker of mere talismans and toys? How could I not be... be... breathless? Bewitched? Entranced. Even there, in the midst of battle? It... gods... it was so BEAUTIFUL.

How can I ever hope to match it? Will I ever match it? I was certainly inspired. My mind, filled with visions of white and gold. Dances of fury and light, trapped within me.

I honestly haven't been able to stop.

That... that deadly dance. Righteous gold and light, heavenly dragons and flashing blades... Against the rolling, calamitous, storm of the heavenly demons. Darkly beautiful and delighting in their slaughter. Bloodlust singing as fatal claws clash against righteous blade. Rougish, flamboyant. Cracking along the edges of their masks to reveal the monsters just inside.

Our sect did not fall. But we were lucky... weren't we? And so many were not. Lesser Sects and mortal villages. Traveling cultivators, caught unaware. Temples and holy places. Defended, valiant, but overwhelmed in the end. None were strong enough. None came close.

And so I work.

Work and work and WORK.

I can fix this. I... I know I can! Surely. Maybe. H-hopefully? Or else what is it all FOR? This second chance? This knowledge I got to keep? If I wasn't meant to use it. Take bits and pieces, of stories I had read and watched, and make them real? Rain made of swords and blossoms, vast arrays bend space and time, the blending of science and fiction!

What, is my peak? If not the home of the Artificer? The Crafter? Maker of things? Talismans, yes. But we do so much MORE. I...I can do so much more.

I just need TIME.

Lifting my tool, I let the frustration wash over me. Careful. So very, very careful. Not to let my emotions ruin my work. One moment's tantrum, after all, can lead to months wasted. And... and I can't afford that. Not if I'm to help.

Because, ultimately? I will never be a martial cultivator. My sword is all be decorative. More a focal for meditation then a weapon. I use it more in class then... well... Too be honest? I have only used it in class. At best? I can defend myself. Hopefully.

(It is not something I ever wish to test. That theory.)

My reaction times are too slow. I hesitate. Am far too absorbed in crafting and meditation, then I am training and the physical world. Shizun half expects me to move to a hidden world, once my training is complete. And... well... I am considering it.

Perhaps I am a coward.

Another pinprick letter carved. One more in the endless stream, stretching in a flowing wave around the wooden sword. The REAL pain? Is going to be carving the spiritually rich stones, precious and otherwise, as well as shaping the metals, that will fit in each of these thousand of tiny indents. Making it smooth. Again, not hard, just... tedious.

I imagine that's why no one does it. Dispite the strength it results in. Each letter lending its power. Doing something. It will age well, I think. Grow powerful. Might even become a Treasure. Something worth some famous naming, in a century or so.

They never do see to appreciate that. How long it takes. To make the wonders and treasures they throw around like trash. Keep like trophies. If it does not shine and spit rainbows, with tassels and fire to impress? Can it really be called a sword? Forget what it DOES! How HARD it was to MAKE! The love and skill that went into it!! Is it SHINY? A thousand years and covered in jewels?

I pull my tool back again to sigh, aggravated. I have got to stop doing that. Being slower then my peers is not a failing, I remind myself. My strength is not in waving a sword. It is MAKING them. Treasures and wonders. Creation takes TIME to be done well. Cheap and fast costs lives. Remember your training.

A quite creak of floor boards and the knocking of knuckles against a door frame. Soft but deliberate, to announce a presence. When no one responds to the noise, I glance up in confusion. Huh. The workshop is empty. Going by the light outside? Unsurprising. It's... later then I thought it was. Guess they let me work.

"Shemei? May this one intrude?"

Ah. Shit, right!

Carefully putting my tools to the side, I bid... whomever, enter. I can't see them yet. They have a nice voice though. Low and smooth. I rattle off the standard "don't touch this or that, you'll loose fingers. If you break anything, this peak, collectively, will break you." Shpeal. (Shizun makes us memorize it.)

Glancing up as I put my project back on it's stand, I choke on my tounge. Wut. How?! HI?!!? Shixiong!!!! WHAT!?

"This one hopes he is not intruding upon your valuable working time." He mummers, fan coming up to cover the lower half of his face.

He looks... amused? Charmed? No there's something different there. Fuck, I'm out of practice with the Non-crafters crowd. Brain says "like he saw a cute squeaky animal he wants to bite(maybe suggestive?)" but that's not right. Thanks brain! Very USEFUL! Glad I can count on you, in these trying times! Shit. Uuuuuuuhh.....

"I hope you will forgive this Shixiong, but I asked around to find you." What. "You are that make of this fan, yes?"

From his sleeve, he pulls out a very familiar work. Battered to absolute hell, but unmistakable. Defiance!? My BABY! What have you DONE to them!? The battle fan, MEANT to be a magnificent white and gold, is blood stained and bent. Burned! Nicked! ARE THOSE ACID HOLES!?

The sound I make is unholy. My boy fan! Look at what they've done to my boy fan!

YOU BASTARD!

Thats it! Crush over! Dead man walking! I snatch the fan back so hard I'm surprised I don't snap fingers. Granted, I get the impression he let's me take it from him. But that's probably because he sees the MURDER in my eyes! FUCKER! What did you even DO to this poor fan!? Beat it against ROCK!? Acid, knive covered ROCKS!?

"Ah. No." His voice comes out shaking, just ever so slightly. His shoulders match. From the curve of his eyes? It can only be restrained laughter. "This one is afraid that it was the demons who so disrespect your masterful work."

Oh? OH?! This is FUNNY to you? Is it?! My baby! My beloved, Defiance! Mangled! MAIMED! And you LAUGH!? Bastard! Scoundrel! Fuck you!! How DARE-!!!

He can no longer contain it. Doubling over in a roar of laughter as I curse him out. My hands never leaving the fan I am carefully repairing. Yanking open drawers and slamming them. Stomping past him to get what I need. I should keep it! Never give it back! If you can't take care of-!

"Oh but Shemei, I take excellent can of all my things."

Clearly NOT! Defiance is a MESS and-! I pause. My brain catching up with my ears. Alarm bells ringing in my head as red flags flap. The workroom feels... off, suddenly. What was that tone? Excuse me? What, exactly, was that tone? Glancing down, I see one of Shizun's projects. Freshly completed. The glue is dry under my fingers as I, oh so casually, brush over it.

The little knife fits neatly in my palm. I turn. Not fully, but enough. Do not move back to my workstation. Because you know what? Suddenly I feel a bit more comfortable over here... by the project drying racks. Where all the weapons are. I'm sure you don't minds, do you? Shixiong?

"Oh dear, I've made you nervous." He says, handsome face charming, eye alight with laughter. But that tone. I don't like that tone. "Surely Shemei doesn't think this Shixiong would do anything suspicious or untoward? This one is an honorable man."

It's said so mockingly. Through gently smiling teeth. As though the very concept of an honorable man is absurd. And the shift? From polite to informal language? Cracks in a mask? Or a deliberate peek? The way he pulls himself up from his doubled over state, leaning braced as he had laughed himself sick...

Slow and deliberate. Nearly lazy. As though trying to say "there, there, see? No threat here~! Calm, calm." Yet... all I truely see? Is the spectacular control of his own body. An awareness of how he appears. And the unmistakable grace of a predator pretending they're NOT. He fools no one.

He seems delighted.

"You make such beautiful things, Shemei. Such clever hands. Such a clever mind." His voice is soft, almost obscene in the near silence of the workroom. I don't like how he's looking at me. "I had wondered. Surely not, right? Dreams can only ever disappoint. And yet..."

His eyes flit over me. Like the brush of covetous hands, drinking in something they could not yet have. Hungry. Dangerous. I drew closer to the shelves. Edged towards the door. Those were not the eyes of a righteous cultivator. Demonic influence? Qi deviation? Poisoning? I couldn't tell. Didn't CARE. Something wasn't right and I wanted nothing to do with it.

"Poor Shemei~. Stuck with this big, scary Shixiong. So nervous~ your poor maidens heart!" He laughed, like a cat with a cornered mouse. Half delighted. Half hungry for something I wasn't certain I wanted to name. "Going to run from me? Ah, but what if I chase you, Shemei? What will you do then?"

I was close enough, I decided. Fuck this! Keeping him in sight, I gave up all pretense. And stiffly walked for the door. Prepared to bolt.

"You are!" He didn't move to chase me. Just looked delighted. Grin showing more and more teeth the closer I got to the door. "Good, good~ that's right, Shemei. You're a special girl. Shixiong needs to earn your love. But don't worry~"

Driving for the door, I run. The last thing I hear chilling down my spine.

"I will~♡"

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batboyblog · 1 year ago

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My Super Gay/Queer Reading List

The Long Run by James Acker

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Another Dimension of Us by Mike Albo

Wonders of the Invisible World by Christopher Barzak

Alan Cole Is Not a Coward by Eric Bell

Alan Cole Doesn’t Dance by Eric Bell

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

Felix Yz by Lisa Bunker

Last Bus to Everland by Sophie Cameron

Dragging Mason County by Curtis Campbell

The House of Impossible Beauties by Joseph Cassara

Peter Darling by Austin Chant

Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan

The Love Interest by Cale Dietrich

Half Bad by Sally Green

Half Wild by Sally Green

Half Lost by Sally Green

Heartbreak Boys by Simon James Green

Gay Club by Simon James Green

You’re the One That I Want by Simon James Green

We Contain Multitudes by Sarah Henstra

Totally Joe by James Howe

After School Activities by Dirk Hunter

At the Edge of the Universe by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson

We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley by Shaun David Hutchinson

A Complicated Love Story Set in Space by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Straight by Jeff Jacobson

Haffling by Caleb James

The Lightning-Struck Heart by T.J. Klune

A Destiny of Dragons by T.J. Klune

The Consumption of Magic by T.J. Klune

A Wish Upon the Stars by T.J. Klune

The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune

Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

Heat Wave by T.J. Klune

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg

The Bridge by Bill Konigsberg

Destination Unknown by Bill Konigsberg

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan

Every Day by David Levithan

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Ryan and Avery by David Levithan

How to Repair a Mechanical Heart by J.C. Lillis

Take a Bow, Noah Mitchell by Tobias Madden

When Ryan Came Back by Devon McCormack

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Fraternity by Andy Mientus

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

The Art of Starving by Sam J. Miller

Hero by Perry Moore

I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

More Than This by Patrick Ness

Junior Hero Blues by J.K. Pendragon

The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros

When Everything Feels Like the Movies by Raziel Reid

Kens by Raziel Reid

Emmett by Lev A.C. Rosen

Jack of Hearts by Lev A.C. Rosen

Camp by Lev A.C. Rosen

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell

Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow High by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow Road by Alex Sanchez

So Hard to Say by Alex Sanchez

The 99 Boyfriends of Micah Summers by Adam Sass

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

All Kinds of Other by James Sie

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera

Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

Freak Show by James St. James

Ray of Sunlight by Brynn Stein

The Dangerous Art of Blending In by Angelo Surmelis

366 Days by Kiyoshi Tanaka

The Language of Seabirds by Will Taylor

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas

Because You’ll Never Meet Me by Leah Thomas

Spin Me Right Round by David Valdes

Always the Almost by Edward Underhill

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Tumblr got rid of yellow so I couldn't do pride colors, sorry!

If you want help picking something out just send me an ask with what kind of thing you're looking for and I'll select something for you, and if you end up reading something because you saw this list, please let me know

#books #reading #book list #gay books #queer books #queer lit #red white and royal blue #love simon #Carry On

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charliedawn · 1 year ago

Text

The Yule Ball

You were nicely dressed for the occasion and looked around you, but all the people present were wearing masks and you couldn't find any familiar faces..However then, someone that you didn't know took your wrist and you frowned at him. He was smelling like alcohol and he looked at you like a free coursed meal..

" Are you going to dance with me, little bird ?"

You frowned and were about to answer that he could go elsewhere to have his dance when someone else interrupted you.

Severus Snape

"I believe she asked you to leave her alone. Can't you understand English ?"

You both turned around in the direction of the voice and the boy nearly laughed at the boy who had spoken up.

"You should probably watch your mouth, creep..I swear you give me the creeps even with your mask on. Besides, I'm sure the lady will probably choose me over you, isn't that right little bird ?!"

He asked you loudly and a new determination filled you when you saw the crushed expression on the other boy's face. You got out of the other brute’s grip and punched him in the face so hard that you're sure he would feel it for days to come. You then spat angrily at him.

"I would prefer his sweet company over yours any day, you oaf ! Now, get lost !"

The boy started crying and ran away with a bloody nose. You watched him leave and suddenly grimaced in pain at your injured wrist. The oaf had a hard face to punch…The nice boy who had tried to save you looked around shyly and you extended your hand with a kind smile.

"I'm sorry..I'm usually not so violent but, enough is enough and sometimes, a punch in the face is all that they need to get on the right path..Will you dance with me ?"

He looked at your hand and your face multiple times over in shock before finally nodding.

"But…But your hand ?"

You took out your wand and used a spell to make it brand as new and smiled reassuringly at him.

"See ? As good as new."

He didn’t seem that convinced but, decided to take your hand anyway. You then started dancing slowly and you even caught a smile or two coming from your partner.

A few days later, you would learn that the nice young man’s name was Severus. Severus Snape.

James Potter

"I'm sorry but, where did you read on my forehead "Little Bird"? Because that's not my name and I sure as Hell am not dancing with you..ever."

The mean boy frowned at you before tightening his grip on your arm.

"Who do you think you are ?!"

You were about to answer when someone did it for you.

"A classy woman with taste. And you are trash..Now that the presentations are done, could you please get away from my date ?"

You turned around, surprised to see another boy standing there with his hands in his pockets and smiling forcefully at the one who had gripped your arm.

"I don't like repeating myself..So, either you will have disappeared from my sight in the remaining 5 seconds or I’ll get out my wand and give you a little lesson on manners.."

The mean boy—fortunately for you—did not want to fight and ran away when he understood that the threat was real. The boy who defended you then tsskd and whispered angrily.

"Coward.."

You smiled and put your hands on your hips.

"Thanks for the help…But, I could have managed.."

He snorted mockingly at you and you frowned.

"Like Hell you could. The guy was practically dragging you to the exit.."

You humphed unhappily at his reply and was about to get going when he gently took your hand.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I tend to be a bit rude when I see things that pisses me off. And this guy definitely pissed me off. But, I would really like a..?!"

He didn’t have time to finish the end of his sentence that you were already dragging him on the dance floor. You started dancing and he smirked teasingly down at you.

"I was gonna ask for a kiss…but that's nice too."

You blushed a little but replied with another humph.

"Don't push your luck, Potter.."

But, you couldn’t hide your smile and he noticed it. He smiled back at you and whispered in your ear.

"In all honesty, I was kinda jealous..I was not gonna leave that guy take your first dance..After all, you are my date, Y/N.."

Peter Pettigrew

You smiled politely but still insisted on the fact that you didn't want to dance, especially since you didn't know how, but the mean boy was persistent and you started raising your voice at him.

"Hey ! Stop it ! I already have a date and I'm sure he'll be there soon !"

The boy snorted mockingly at you before replying.

"Sorry, sweetcheeks, but if anyone was coming, they would have been there already. Especially after seeing such a piece of work.."

He eyed you up and down suggestively and you blushed in embarrassment—with tears in your eyes. You were about to scream for help when someone suddenly took the hand of the boy and twisted it painfully, making the boy scream in pain.

"The girl said she didn't want to dance. You should have taken the hint the first time around. By the way, sorry for the wait—darling—I took too much time to get prepared.."

Peter looked at you with a smile and winked playfully at you while the pervert got out of his grip and screamed.

"You're crazy !"

He then ran away and you watched him go with a sigh of relief. But then, your savior took a step towards you and extended his hand forward.

"I'm not a good dancer either…but it's better than being harassed by jerks like him all night, right ?"

You hesitated to take his hand, but finally did with a small smile.

"Yes. Thank you, Peter."

He nodded understandingly before finding a corner where you would be far enough from any unrequited attention. He then started to dance with you and you felt safe in his arms.

Lucius Malfoy

You ignored the mean boy and politely asked him to move his hand away, but he only tightened his grip on you.

"Come on. A girl like you should not be alone at a party like this one."

He whispered in your ear and you repeated firmly.

"I was perfectly fine until you came along, sir..And now you're hurting me, so please stop and remove your hand from my person ?"

He frowned at you but, as he was about to say something else, a hand gripped his wrist and you both turned towards the gentleman who was exceptionally well-dressed. There was only one person with such lovely blond hair and splendid fashion style. Lucius. He was frowning at the boy and said in a rather calm but threatening tone.

"I think the lady was clear enough. You are hurting her and she does not want to dance with you.."

The boy glared at him but, let you go and walked away. Your savior glared at the boy until he was out of view and then, he looked back at you with a gentle smile.

"Are you alright, my dear ?"

You smiled back and nodded.

"Yes, thank you.."

He nodded back and to his surprise, you were the one extending your hand towards him.

"I know I just turned him down but, I really want to dance with you. You seem kind and I want to thank you for your help. But, if you don't want to dance, I'll understand and leave you be.."

He looked down at your hand for a second before smiling and taking it.

"It would be my pleasure.." He lead you to the dance floor and you started waltzing together. Then, he bent down and whispered in your ear.

"You are lovely tonight, and as endearingly honest as the first time I met you…Y/N."

You smiled as he uttered your name and pulled him closer.

Sirius Black

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a dance with me ? See, the lady and I are a duo kind of deal and if you want to get into her pants..You shall also have to get into mine..Unfortunately, you're not really my type, so, I'll ask you kindly to bugger off, buddy." You looked at your mysterious savior with widened eyes and started laughing as he winked at you playfully.

"Ugh ! Weirdos !" The boy said before walking away, surely to search for another young girl who wasn't protected by a nutcase. You looked up at him and he looked down at you with a knowing smirk.

"Well ? Don't I get a dance after my brave attempt to save you ?"

You arked an eyebrow at him before smirking too.

"Would that not ruin our "duo" ? And brave ? Really ? You just made the both of us look like fools.."

He rolled his eyes playfully before extending his hand forward towards you.

"For you ? I'll take the chance. And I don't really care what they all think, I saved a pretty lady and if you accept to dance with me ? It would have been worth it.."

You chuckled before putting your hand in his and answering.

"Lead the way !"

He then made you both break a path through the many dancers, searching for the spot with the most light and you arked an eyebrow.

"Narcissistic much ?"

He pretended to be offended and gasped dramatically.

"Me ?! Never.."

You both laughed together before starting dancing until the end of the song. You then looked up at him and he smiled down at you.

"Anything on your mind, Y/N ?"

Your eyes widened in surprise.

"You know me ?"

He chuckled before gently running his hand in your hair.

"Of course I know you. Don't you recognize me ? After nearly one year in the same transfiguration class. I thought you would at least have learned my name."

It then clicked and you laughed.

"Well…I’ll be damned. The infamous Sirius Black. McGonagall’s worst nightmare. The prank master. Dancing with little old me. I feel humbled."

Sirius grinned wildly before pulling you closer.

"Yeah…But, tonight. Sirius will do just fine."

You were momentarily stunned before smiling back and accepting his hug wholeheartedly.

"Alright, Sirius."

Remus Lupin

"I'm sorry gentleman but, this lady is already taken."

The mean boy turned towards the boy who had just spoken—ready to protest—but finding that he was at least two heads taller than him and smiled awkwardly.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He then quickly let go of you and walked away without adding anything. You smiled gratefully at the other boy while gently trying to soothe your wrist by massaging it.

"Thank you. I thought he would never leave."

But then, he frowned at you and you felt scared for a second, only to be reassured when he extended his hand forward and asked.

"Your wrist…May I see it ?"

You showed it to him and he gently ran his thumb over the bruise already forming. He then surprised you by kissing it gently and you blushed multiple shades of red at the intimate gesture. He then guided you away to the part of Hogwarts where you could see the stars and you followed him, as if hypnotised…

He took out a chocolate bar from his pocket and handed it to you.

"It will help with the pain. Trust me."

You took it with a grateful smile.

" Thank you. You are very kind."

He smiled back at you and took off his mask. He then took a deep breath with his eyes closed.

"Finally…I hate masks." He then turned towards you and extended his hand towards you with a smile. "Remus. Remus Lupin."

You looked down at his hand before smiling and shaking it.

"…Y/N. Pleasure."

The Twins

"Hey ! That's no way to treat someone, especially a lady ! And sorry big boy but, she already promised me that dance..."

A ginger-headed boy said while wrapping his arm around your waist. But the mean boy only snickered at him.

"What are you gonna do about it, carrots ?"

Suddenly, another arm wrapped itself around your waist on the other side of you and you were surprised to see the exact same boy who smiled cheekily at him.

"Actually, she promised us that dance, Fred. And it's what we're gonna do to you that you should be worried about. And carrots ?! Really ?! Find some originality at least !"

The boy who was bothering you—outnumbered—ran off while the two boys looked at each other and laughed as they threw the same insults at him.

"Chicken ! Ape ! Gorilla ! Cat-fish !…"

The one called Fred then added.

"See ?! That's originality and talent in one swing ! Take some notes next time !"

You smiled gratefully at them both, recognising your favorite twin brothers and kissed them both on the cheeks.

"Thank you. You're my heroes."

They both blushed wildly and smiled widely at you before answering at the same time.

"No problem !"

You faked trying to remember before asking with a teasing grin.

"Now…who’s my date again ?"

…They started arguing with each other before you decided to give each of them a dance.

#fandoms #imagine #marauders #the marauders #severus snape #severus snape x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew x reader #lucius malfoy x reader #the weasley twins x reader #harry potter

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ealdormanink · 4 months ago

Note

I saw you are writing for Vikings 😍 Can you write a One Shot about Ivar? Topic can just be anything

Born Under Ravens' Wings

A Ivar the Boneless x Reader oneshot inspired by Lana Del Rey's "Born to Die".

Content Warning: mentions of blood, implied violence, dark themes.

Thank you for the request!! <3

The heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall creaked open, letting in both the bitter winter wind and the woman Ivar had summoned. Her footsteps echoed against the stone floor, steady and unhurried, despite the rows of armed guards lining the path to his throne. The air hung thick with the scent of burning wood and something metallic - blood.

Ivar the Boneless sat with the kind of stillness that made people forget to breathe, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her approaching figure. Blood trickled down his arm, staining the intricate patterns of his leather armor, yet his face betrayed no pain.

"They say you're a healer," he spoke, his voice carrying that peculiar mix of silk and steel that made grown men tremble. "That the gods whisper their secrets to you."

She held his gaze, something few dared to do. The flames from the hearth cast dancing shadows across his sharp features, making him look more like the god he claimed to be than the man he was.

"The gods whisper to those who know how to listen," she replied, her voice clear in the vast hall. Her fingers instinctively reached for the medicine pouch at her hip, where herbs and bandages waited to tend to his wound.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth - dangerous, intrigued.

"Leave us," Ivar commanded, and the guards filtered out without a word, their footsteps fading into silence. The Great Hall suddenly felt more intimate, despite its vastness.

She approached his throne, her movements measured and purposeful. The wound on his arm was deep - a sword's kiss from a recent battle. As she knelt beside him, the scent of herbs from her pouch mingled with the metallic tang of his blood.

"This will hurt," she warned, meeting his gaze again. Most healers would have lowered their eyes, muttered apologies, trembled at the prospect of causing the king pain.

Ivar leaned forward, close enough that she could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. "Everything worthwhile hurts," he replied, voice low and rich with meaning.

Her fingers worked skillfully, cleaning the wound. If the sting of the herbs bothered him, he showed no sign of it. Instead, his eyes never left her face, studying her with an intensity that would have made most people squirm.

"You're not afraid," he observed, tilting his head slightly. It wasn't a question.

"Should I be?" She pressed a clean cloth against the wound, her touch firm but gentle. "You're a man before you're a king, Ivar the Boneless. And all men bleed."

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist. Not painfully, but with enough pressure to command attention. The sudden contact sent a jolt through her body, like lightning before thunder.

"Most who speak to me with such boldness don't live to see another sunrise," Ivar said, his thumb brushing over her pulse point. A smile played on his lips, but his eyes remained serious, searching.

"Then perhaps you're surrounded by too many cowards," she replied, continuing her work with her free hand. "A king needs truth more than he needs flattery."

The grip on her wrist loosened, but he didn't let go. Heat radiated from where their skin touched, and for a moment, the great hall seemed to fade away, leaving only this space between them.

A log cracked in the hearth, sending sparks dancing through the air. In that brief flash of light, something passed between them - an understanding, a recognition. She saw past the crown, past the legends of his cruelty, to something raw and real beneath.

"The gods didn't just give you the gift of healing, did they?" Ivar's voice was barely above a whisper now. "They gave you sight."

She tied off the bandage, her work complete, but neither of them moved to break the connection. "Sometimes," she admitted, "I see things I wish I didn't."

"And what do you see when you look at me?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications. She studied his face - the sharp angles, the intensity that seemed to radiate from him like heat from a flame. In the flickering firelight, shadows danced across his features, making him appear almost otherworldly.

"I see glory," she finally spoke, her voice soft but unwavering. "And pain. And loneliness." Her free hand moved, almost of its own accord, to hover near his face, not quite touching. "I see a man who's fought against fate itself, yet can't escape its pull."

Ivar's breath caught, almost imperceptibly. For a heartbeat, the carefully constructed walls behind his eyes crumbled, revealing something vulnerable and hungry beneath.

"Dangerous words," he murmured, leaning slightly into her almost-touch. "Speaking of fate to a man who's made his own destiny."

"Have you?" She challenged gently. "Or have the gods been guiding your path all along, as they guide mine?"

The air between them grew thick with tension, like the moment before a storm breaks. Ivar's hand slid from her wrist to her hand, intertwining their fingers in a gesture that felt more intimate than any embrace.

"The gods," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "have never given me anything I haven't had to fight for." His eyes flickered to their joined hands, then back to her face. "What battle will they demand for you, I wonder?"

A gust of wind howled through the hall, making the flames dance wildly. The shadows it cast made it seem as though the carved gods on the wooden pillars were moving, watching their exchange with ancient, knowing eyes.

"Perhaps," she said, finally allowing her fingers to trace the line of his jaw, "the battle has already begun."

Ivar caught her hand against his face, his touch both gentle and possessive. The calluses on his palm spoke of countless battles, yet his touch held a tenderness that surprised her. His skin was warm despite the winter's chill, almost feverish.

"You know what they say about me," he said, eyes darkening. "The stories. The warnings. That I destroy everything I touch." His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to emphasize his words.

"And yet here I am," she replied, unflinching. "Perhaps destruction isn't always what it seems. Sometimes the old must burn for the new to rise."

A low laugh escaped him, more genuine than his usual calculated smirks. "You speak in riddles like a völva."

"And you avoid truths like a king." She moved to withdraw her hand, but he held fast, pulling her closer until she could feel his breath on her face.

"Stay," he commanded, then seemed to catch himself. His voice softened, almost to a whisper. "Stay and tell me more of what you see."

The word hung between them - not quite a request, not quite an order. In that moment, she saw their paths stretching before them like threads of fate, intertwining, beautiful and terrible in their inevitability.

She felt it then - that familiar whisper of the gods, a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the winter air. In her mind's eye, she saw flashes: blood on snow, a crown falling, ravens circling. And through it all, their two figures, bound together in a dance of fate that could only end in flames.

"The paths that lead to you are stained with blood," she whispered, her hand trembling slightly in his. "The gods show me darkness, and glory, and pain." Her eyes met his, and for a moment, she saw understanding flash across his face. "They show me an ending written in the stars."

Ivar's grip on her hand tightened, his other hand coming up to trace the line of her throat, resting there like a promise - or a threat. "Then let it come," he breathed, his voice heavy with something between desire and defiance. "Let them try to stop what's already been set in motion."

She pulled back slightly, though every fiber of her being yearned to lean closer. "Some things," she said softly, "are meant to destroy us, Ivar the Boneless. And we walk toward them anyway."

Rising to her feet, she felt the weight of destiny settling around them like a cloak. The fire had died down to embers, casting long shadows across the hall. As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.

"When will I see you again?"

She paused at the threshold, looking back at him one last time. In the dying light, he looked every bit the king of legends - beautiful, dangerous, doomed. "When the gods will it," she answered. "And they always will it."

The heavy doors closed behind her with a sound like fate sealing shut. In the great hall, Ivar remained on his throne, touching the bandage on his arm, his eyes fixed on where she had disappeared. Outside, the wind howled louder, carrying with it the sound of ravens' wings - harbingers of what was to come.

Some loves were born to die, after all. But first, they had to live.

#ivar the boneless #vikings x reader #vikings #ragnar lothbrok #x reader #oneshot #ivar the boneless x reader

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redtsundere-writes · 1 year ago

Text

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 8. Fight For Me.

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Summary: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Unethical violence. Sexual harassment. I only read it once, lmao Word count: 2927 words. A/N: Another Saturday, another chapter. I picked up studying Japanese again, so far so good. Any advice is welcome :) Hope you guys like today's chapter. :) Btw I made a PLAYLIST

That was the most uncomfortable morning of my life. I can’t get the idea that I fell asleep in Sukuna's bed like it was nothing out of my head. All I could do was to get dressed quickly to get back to my house before the morning training started. Luckily, I didn't see Sukuna on my way out, maybe he slept in the guest room… or so I thought. His penthouse was huge, there must have been an extra room for sure. Upon arriving at the gym, Sukuna just scolded me for being late as if nothing happened last night, so I acted accordingly.

Cheers and praises flooded the arena as soon as Sukuna's anthem began booming over the speakers. Even though it was the last fight of the night, this was just starting. The sound mitigated with every step we took upon the intimidating octagon where Naoya was waiting for us after making his grand entrance. I was so nervous I felt like I was going to throw up at any moment, but I had to stay strong. This was not the time to act like a coward.

The referee checked Sukuna's gloves and body for sandbags or anything out of place. During the inspection, Sukuna gave me a serious glare. He looked so calm for someone who was about to be locked in a cage to fight another beast his size. I had interrupted Naoya's lucky ritual and helped him perform his luck ritual successfully. He was sure he was going to win, but he couldn't let his guard down.

Sukuna stepped onto the big stage and jogged around the perimeter so that everyone could admire his greatness. Naoya instead of watching him to analyze his opponent, was focused on me. His eyes were looking at me through the black fence, conveying a message I did not want to decipher. Sukuna had to beat him if I didn't want him to escape from the cage and lock me in his clutches. I gulped hard as soon as the referee approached them to give them the basic rules. It was time. I closed my eyes to pray to all the deities of the constellations, crossed my fingers and wondered if Sukuna's zodiac sign was lucky today.

The bell rang and the first round began. People shouted in anticipation as the tiger engaged the cheetah in a dangerous dance for dominance. As we had planned, Sukuna was taking his time with him. He was waiting for our common enemy to feel comfortable enough to approach him. Naoya took the bait as he slammed in on him with a pair of jabs, he was going right at his jaw to end the fight. “He looks different,” I thought as I watched him attack Sukuna without hesitation. He was desperate to win as fast as possible, even if that meant throwing away all his energy in the first round.

Everything was being decided by boxing in the first two rounds, so far, we were going according to plan. Sukuna was like a fish in water, dodging every punch he landed and landing a couple of jabs that connected perfectly with his body, while Naoya struggled to take him down. There was a minute left in the third round when Naoya knocked Sukuna down with a spinning kick. The cheetah turned into a dangerous boa that attached itself to his body mercilessly. Its legs wrapped around his waist to put him in a neck lock. Sukuna tried to pull away from the cheetah's grip with hopeless punches and kicks, but Naoya wasn't about to let it go so easily.

“Hold on, Sukuna!” I yelled in desperation amidst the howls of the fans.

I looked at the clock hoping that the seconds would pass quickly, but it felt like an eternity. Sukuna was pushing away with difficulty the arm that chained his neck to keep from fainting. My eyes were on the verge of tears, the champion could not lose, not today.

The bell rang, and the fighters walked away. I sighed in relief and rushed up to the octagon with Gojo and Yuuji to assist him in the break. Gojo put ice on his shoulder and Yuuji gave him water.

“Change of plans. We must go to the floor,” I said.

“What?” Sukuna asked me, taking off his mouth guard.

“Naoya is desperate. He wants to win at any cost, it seems that this time he doesn't want to leave it to the judges. This is your chance to use his attacks against him,” I explained, but Sukuna didn't seem to be convinced.

“I agree. He is fighting differently from before. Use your legs, they are longer than his,” Gojo intervened. With that, Sukuna nodded before the next round was announced by a beautiful ring girl.

Naoya's eyes were on me as he prepared for the next round. I returned her gaze in kind, I wasn't going to let him bully me just because. The bell announced the fourth round and my eyes returned to Sukuna. After a back and forth of punches and low kicks, Naoya went straight at him. Naoya knocked him down, pushing him by the shoulders. Sukuna fell backwards with a loud thud. This time, time wasn't going to stop him. I had seen this attack before.

“Push him with your legs!” I yelled so he could hear me as I ran around the perimeter of the octagon to get a better angle on the attack.

Sukuna understood what I meant. With the inertia of Naoya's attack, Sukuna pushed him by the abdomen. I thought he would push him away, instead, he grabbed him by the arms and lifted him up to have him at his mercy for a couple of seconds in the air. I could see Naoya's eyes as he realized he had screwed up. Sukuna threw him to turn him like a helicopter propeller to put his leg between his arms and whip him against the floor. He caged him between his legs and kept pulling him by his limb to keep Naoya in a headlock.

“Sukuna…” I mumbled in shock.

Naoya was hitting him by the legs while trying to free his trapped arm. The referee was asking Naoya to get out of it quickly, or he was going to call the fight over. Time paused again as the scene unfolded before me. A king demonstrating his power to a rebellious knight. I no longer heard the people, nor my team, nor my thoughts. It was just my eyes taking in the facts, tasting those uncertain moments.

Naoya was completely trapped, so the referee announced the end of the fight. I caught my breath and came back to my senses at the decision. Sukuna broke away from Naoya and slowly stood up to regain his posture. He looked at me through the fence and gave me a slight smirk. “Mothafucker did it,” I thought before a tear of happiness slipped down my cheek. We had won, I was free and the champion proved himself the best once again.

I met up with the team to go up to the octagon to celebrate the victory. I moved through the crowd to give him a sweaty bear hug. I wanted to congratulate him, and thank him for giving his best as always, but I was so happy the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. I could only cry of joy on his shoulder.

“Stop crying like a bitch,” he whispered between chiding teeth as he wiped my face with the towel around his neck.

“Can’t I be happy?!” I scolded him between sniffles.

“You're humiliating me. I can't have a crybaby of a coach,” he complained.

“I'm not…!”

My eyes popped open as soon as Sukuna connected his lips with mine in a sweet kiss in front of everyone. My cheeks turned the color of his hair and my heart started beating like crazy from shock. It was not a passionate kiss as he usually kisses me in the secrecy of his ritual, it was a tender touch in the middle of an octagon full of fighters and cameras watching us. Our lips didn't last more than 5 seconds connected, but it felt like it lasted an eternity.

The sharp sound of something metallic woke me up from the moment. Naoya had hit Sukuna in the head with his metal water bottle before anyone could stop him. The arena gasped in shock at the unsportsmanlike attitude. Team Zen’in pulled him back before he could land another misplaced blow. Yuuji, Gojo and Nanami lashed out at him and his coach for not being able to control their athlete.

“How dare you kiss what's mine?! Let’s get back together, y/n!” Naoya screamed in a tantrum as he tried to break free from the grip of his teammates.

“Are you okay?” I asked Sukuna worriedly as I put some ice on his bump.

“Yes, I feel better now,” he said with a proud smile as he watched Naoya in emotional agony.

“Naoya Zenin will appear before the official UFC committee for lack of discipline and unsportsmanlike attitude tomorrow afternoon for his actions after tonight's fight, but there are already rumors that he will be suspended for more than a year from all events,” The commentator announced.

Team Black howled with joy at the news. My heart had finally calmed down after drinking a nice beer and chatting for a while with Yuuji and Megumi at the same bar we came last time. My mind was finally resting at peace after Sukuna beat up Naoya and explained to Nanami that the kiss had only been to get Naoya off his nerves. “Relax, that kiss didn't mean anything, it was just part of the strategy,” I thought as I remembered how intense that unexpected contact felt.

“Aren't you supposed to be with the Zen’ins? Aren't they family?” I asked Megumi curiously to distract my mind from the strong palpitations of my passionate heart.

“More or less. My father was kicked out of the dojo as soon as he challenged my uncle Naobito and beat him. The family could not bear such a breach of family honor,” Megumi explained, not caring at all about the incident. “I never thought that Sukuna could lift Naoya with his body, it was really incredible. Did you teach him that move?” He asked me before taking a sip of her beer.

I looked briefly at Sukuna who was chatting pleasantly with Nanami on the other side of the table. Quickly, he noticed that I was watching him. I turned around in time so that he wouldn't think I had been watching him for a long time and that we had only connected casual glances. “Why am I thinking like a lovesick teenager?” I scolded myself.

“I didn't know he could do that either,” I agreed, to which Megumi looked at me strangely.

After a stressful day and a couple of drinks to counteract the body ailment. I said goodbye to everyone and set out to head home under the midnight stars. I smiled to myself as I replayed in my mind how Sukuna had cornered Naoya against the canvas. The sound of his bare back impacting hard played in my mind on loop. It had been a lousy day, but an incredible night I would never forget.

“Where are you going?” someone asked behind me. I could recognize Sukuna's voice anywhere in the world.

“Home, to rest,” I answered as I faced him fully. Why had he followed me? Whatever the reason, we were alone on the sidewalk, it was the right time to tell him how I felt. “You did amazing tonight, thank you very much.”

“I just did my job, I didn't do it for you,” he said with that serious tone I knew so well by now, he purposely made it sound like he was annoyed.

“I know you didn't do it for me, but I still want you to know that I owe you one,” I joked.

He didn't hesitate to approach me, I thought he would give me a hug or another kiss, so I just froze in place. Instead, he just handed me a silver key with a Team Black keychain on it. I inspected it carefully as I twirled it between my fingers.

“You are going to live with me, starting tonight,” he announced as if it was nothing.

“What?! Why?!” I was really confused.

“Naoya will probably be suspended from the UFC tomorrow and have to pay a stupidly expensive fine. Guess who he's going to blame for that,” I explained.

“You?” I really didn't want to blame myself right now.

“Do you really think he'd try to come near me after I beat him up on the ring? And I was fighting under the rules,” Sukuna smiled proud of himself for his performance in the fight.

“Naoya promised me that…".

“Naoya promised you that he would love you forever and not hurt you and look where you are. Just because you're innocent doesn't mean you have to be stupid,” Sukuna interrupted me and then turned his back to me. “You better be home by the time I get back,” he demanded before going back to the bar.

“Hey! Sukuna! What about my stuff?!” I shouted for him to stop, but he ignored me and walked into the bar without saying anything else.

I stood still on the sidewalk while my fingers caressed the keychain. How could someone be so nice and scary at the same time? It was obvious that Sukuna wanted me to be safe, but the way he did it felt like he was doing me a favor instead of actually wanting to help me. “He wants to protect me,” I thought as I realized what he was doing. My heart skipped a beat even though he was no longer in my presence and my cheeks dyed pink just thinking about him.

“Sukuna sure is a strange man…” I thought out loud as I went on my way to the penthouse.

Even though I had entered his home before, I couldn't help but be surprised as I walked down the huge carpeted hallway. I arrived in the immense living room that shared the professional kitchen, the 12-person wooden dining room and the contemporary living room surrounded by huge windows that allowed me to see the entire city glowing in the dark night. What it's like to have all the money in the world.

“I think I'll sleep in the guest room,” I said aloud to test the echo of my new home. “First I must find the guest room,” I planned as I looked at the maze I would be living in.

I avoided the entrance doors because I knew that one of them was Sukuna's room, so I had to go up to the second floor. When I got to the top, I could see through the large windows the indoor pool on the first floor, the bar with karaoke and the small zen garden that divided the rooms. “What songs will he like to sing?” I wondered curiously as I continued my search for my room. A little smile escaped my lips as I imagined Sukuna singing Single Ladies by Beyoncé.

I had finally found the guest room. It had a king-size bed with beige sheets, a small couch to watch TV, its own bathroom and a large empty closet. I dropped my backpack on the small white couch and headed for bed. Before I could throw myself out of exhaustion, I noticed a Victoria's Secret bag at the foot of the bed. My eyes widened as I realized the real reason Sukuna wanted me to come to his house.

“That fucker is planning to fuck me tonight!” I exclaimed, offended.

I couldn't believe it, I was really stupid for thinking that Sukuna wanted to protect me. I had escaped from the Zen’in just to face a Ryomen. I am so naive for thinking he was different, but he was just another disgusting man who can't see women as equals. I really wanted him to be different. He only fucked me twice, and he already assumes he can do it whenever he wants. I wasn't going to let him.

I took the things out of the bag to throw it in the trash, but stopped when I saw that it wasn't lingerie, it was a full set of satin pajamas. White pajamas with pink stripes in my size. I covered my face with it from embarrassment. I had misjudged Sukuna, he sure bought me pajamas after I fell asleep naked in his bed the night before. I took off my clothes to put on the soft and comfortable pajamas, they fit me like a glove. I smiled like a fool when I saw myself in the mirror.

“How cute…” I thought out loud before throwing myself on the bed comfortably.

Oh.

Quickly, I realized what I had said and stood still, staring at the white glitter ceiling. Did I just say Sukuna was cute? No, he couldn't be. He is a rude, selfish, impatient, serious, self"confident, independent, disciplined, strong, handsome, rich man… I couldn't fall in love with him. I was his coach, his co-worker. I couldn't like him because he has an amazing body, takes care of me even if he doesn't want to admit it, and kisses me like no one else ever has, right? Right?!

Oh.

I was in trouble.

Masterlist.

Tag list: @maskedpacific @thepurpleempath @mazzd4 @charlie-xo @s0uldarling @sunako-0120 @berranurates

(Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!)

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virshiral · 5 days ago

Note

Happy Friday!

“I don't love you, I just love the bomb.” From Dance Fever prompts for Solavellan (or whatever pairing you choose!)

Thank you for the prompt! I listened to this song while writing and this is a vibe. Going on my Solavellan playlist for sure.

@dadrunkwriting

--- He doesn't love her, he tells himself.

It is only that he is a coward. He wants an excuse to give up his plans, blow up everything he's worked for. That's what he loves; only that.

They kissed once, that is all. Besides, it was in the Fade. He was not himself. You change everything, he said, but what he meant was that he wanted her to change everything. He clung to her not as a woman but as a punctuation mark – a sign pointing to another possibility, as if there could ever be another possibility.

His body told him something else, but that is immaterial.

They are traveling through the Exalted Plains, and that evening they stop at an abandoned elven bathhouse. The water is still warm, from a spell that his people cast millenia ago. Dorian excitedly chivies the party toward the waters.

'Of course it's always a good idea to go barging right into a centuries-old spell whose nature you don't understand,' Solas says, his voice coming out uncharitably severe.

'Well, you needn't join us if you feel that way,' Dorian says airily, and then looks over at Cole and Eirlan. 'Coming?'

Eirlan and Cole go with him. Solas sits alone, by the unpitched tents. He takes a book out of a bag, but cannot read it. He is so very tired of himself.

He does not love her. The very idea is ridiculous.

It is not planned, but somehow he finds himself putting the book aside and wandering toward the pools. Just to see, he tells himself. Dorian sees him approaching, and arches an eyebrow. 'Are you coming in after all, Solas? Does that tunic actually come off, or did you just sew it on?'

His eyes flicker toward Eirlan. She wears only a wet shirt, and he cannot help but see the way it clings about her, almost translucent. He wants to lay his hand on the curve of her hip. He wants to touch the underside of her breast; the soft and lovely blurring of her edges. What is this tenderness in him? If it were just desire, that would be easier to contend with.

Her eyes meet his. She seems to waver, then she turns her face away, and dives underwater.

Suddenly Solas is all resolution. His chin tilted, challenging, he strips off his tunic, and then his undershirt, and without hesitating a moment he dives into the pool.

When he surfaces he is standing beside her. 'Having fun, lethallin?' he says, standing with his hand on his hip.

He can feel her eyes on him. If he'd had any doubt about her interest, this moment would have dispelled it. That is a blush, there is no doubt about it. He should not feel the way that he does: breathless and wondering, his whole chest cracked wide. He does not love her, absolutely not.

'Indeed,' she murmurs. Steals another glance at him.

'Good,' he says, and then he turns, whip-sharp, and splashes Dorian. The other mage lets out a yelp of protest and tries to reciprocate, and soon enough the four of them are engaged in a vigorous water-fight; even Cole is willingly pitching in, though he seems to have very little idea of what's happening.

Eirlan turns to flee towards the deep end, and Solas pursues her. Without quite intending it his hands close about her waist, and then she's pressed against his body. He can feel everything. His heartbeat is a terrible music in his ears. 'Got you,' he says in a low whisper, and he feels her shiver against him. Feels the response of his own body; his shameful, unforgivable yearning.

Suddenly he realises what he's doing. He lets go and stumbles backwards. 'I – I am sorry – '

She turns to look at him. 'Don't apologize, Solas. I wasn't complaining.'

He looks down, unable to suppress a small smile. 'I – all right.'

Dorian rolls his eyes. 'Will the two of you just kiss, for goodness sake?'

Solas turns to look calmly at him. 'Maybe we already have,' he says, and then immediately regrets it. Hastily he turns away, begins to climb out of the pool.

He doesn't love her. His own voice echoes in his head; wildly unconvincing. What has he done?

#solavellan #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #solavellan fanfic #dragon age solas #dadwc

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lunemai · 9 months ago

Text

Mamihlapinatapai

(n.) A look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither want to begin.

w: toxic depiction of Luke & y/n, toxic, toxic, reader wants Luke to "man up" (?), smut, no protection, very dirty tbh. angst. not very happy ending, AFAB!Reader.

You should be Stronger Than Me You been here seven years longer than me

"Seriously?"

Don't you know you supposed to be the man Not pale in comparison to who you think I am

"I'm talking to you."

You always wanna talk it through, I don't care I always have to comfort you when I'm there But that's what I need you to do, stroke my hair

"You need to communicate with me, y/n, this won't work otherwise."

'Cause I've forgotten all of young love's joy Feel like a lady, and you my lady boy-

-"What won't work?" I say with a raised eyebrow as the music coming from my radio fades out into the background.

he sighs and shakes his head in frustration.

"You know." he mutters "No, actually, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me, Luke?" he stares at me, and after a few seconds, he gulps.

"That's what I thought." it's maddening, this dance we do, each step hesitant, every glance loaded with unspoken words. i'm not asking for the world, am I? I'm asking for a man who can look me in the eye and declare what he wants, what he needs, what he feels.

Luke, with all his bravado and charm, is just a boy hiding behind his own shadow, the reputation of "golden boy" everyone has given him. he puts on this facade of "strength", of decisiveness, of leadership, but when when it comes to us, he falters.

He's afraid. "You're a coward." I whisper. I know he heard me.

he shakes his head, "What do you want me to say?"

I too, shook my head, not like him, he shakes his to rid himself of the words that want to come out of his mouth. I shake mine to stop the tears from swelling in my eyes.

"please," I say beg, is this what its come to? I'm pathetic. this is pathetic.

his eyes, those brown homey eyes, they fill with the same feelings he's just heard in my voice.

he walks up to me, and places a hand to my cheek, caressing my lips with his thumb.

I take a breath, I want to inhale him, I want to live within him. I know what we’re doing, what this is leading up to, how it’ll end, but I dont care anyways, i’m selfish and I take all that he gives me.

his grip on my face tightens as he leans down to place his forehead against mine.

Without another word, Luke closes the remaining distance, his lips crushing down on mine with hunger.

I moan into his mouth, my hands tangling in his curly hair pulling him closer. It’s like I can taste the frustration and desire on his tongue.

Luke's large hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts and squeezing them roughly through my top. I arched into his touch, my nipples hardening instantly at his caress. I pull at his shirt, wanting to feel him against my sensitive skin.

Breaking the kiss, Luke basically ripped his shirt off over his head, baring his muscular torso.

My hands move to the waistband of his pants. "Don't hold back anymore, Luke," I say, popping the button on his jeans.

He stepped forward, pressing my back against the wall, his mouth capturing one hard nipple as his hand slid between my legs. I cried out, my head falling back as he suckled and teased my sensitive peak. His fingers slipping easily inside me as he begins to thrust them in and out.

"You're so fucking wet for me, baby," Luke growled against my breast, his thumb circling my swollen clit. "You have no idea how good you me feel."

"Oh, God, Luke..." I gasp, my hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop... please, right there."

Luke smiles against my skin, his fingers working their magic as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. My breath came in short gasps, my body trembling with the effort of holding back the sound of my orgasm, he doesn’t deserve them, i’ve decided. But Luke has other plans, slowing his movements just as I was about to fall over the precipice.

"Not yet, baby," he murmured, kissing a path down my stomach. "I want to taste you first."

Before I could respond, Luke is on his knees before me pulling down my shorts along with my underwear all the way, his tongue tracing slow, lazy circles around my clit. I cried out, my hands tangling in his hair as he laps at me greedily, as if savoring the taste of my arousal. He sucks my swollen bud into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, then delves lower, thrusting his tongue deep inside my hot, wet core.

"Oh, fuck..." I moaned, my hips bucking uncontrollably as Luke basically devours me. "Luke, please... don't stop. I'm so close."

Sensing my impending release, Luke inserts two fingers into my tight channel, curling them to hit my G-spot as he sucks hard on my clit. I cried out, again, my body shaking as a powerful orgasm rips through me. "Luke... oh, God, I'm cumming-"

Luke didn't let up, riding out my orgasm as he continues to lick and suck at my sensitive bud. my legs trembled as I ride the waves of pleasure, my juices flowing onto his tongue. Finally, he eases me down gently, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses up my body.

I ran my fingers lightly over his scar, the only “imperfection” on his otherwise perfect body, I feel him shudder beneath my touch.

With a growl, Luke lifts me, pressing my back against the wall of my cabin as he positions his cock at my entrance. Slowly, he slides into me, filling me completely. I moan, my head falling back as I savored the feel of him stretching me, claiming me as his.

Luke began to move, his hips snapping as he set a relentless pace. I meet his thrusts with equal fervor, my nails digging into his shoulders as I urge him on. The sound of our flesh slapping together filled the room, along with our grunts and moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, Y/n, you feel so damn good," Luke grit out, his eyes screwed shut as he struggled for control.

I cried, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Go deeper, harder.”

Spurred on by my demands, Luke thrust harder, his cock plunging deep into my welcoming heat. The force of his movements sent me bouncing against the wall, my breasts jiggling with each powerful stroke. our bodies glistened with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex as we moved in perfect rhythm.

My breath quickened as I feel another orgasm building deep within my core. Luke senses it too, his movements becoming more urgent as he chased his own release. Our eyes locked, filled with raw, passionate desire, as we moved together, lost in our pure, unadulterated pleasure.

My walls clenched around him, my body shaking as a powerful orgasm rips through me. my nails dig into his back.

Luke groans, with a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself deep inside me, his cock pulsing.

Panting, we stayed locked together for a moment, savoring the intensity of our release. Until it all comes back.

slowly he puts me down, our breaths still rigid, it doesn’t take more than 2 minutes for him to start dressing himself.

I scoff.

he sighs and steps closer to me, to dress me, I suppose, sweet right? “Y/n-” “No.” I say firmly.

Hurriedly I dress myself, because I need him don’t need him. I don’t want him. I don’t need him.

“You’re afraid.” Afraid of what we could be, of what it would mean to finally admit that this, whatever this is, matters. “Afraid of what?” he says with reluctance, he knows what.

I think, for a few moment, and finally I come to a conclusion. I nod at myself reassuringly.

“Y/n?” he says in his all sweet and soft voice.

“I want.” I start hesitantly, “I want more, I want you to make up your mind, I want you to be a man, stop whatever the fuck this is Luke.” I meet his eyes.

His face softens, and he lets out a breath through his nose.

“I’m giving you a day, a day to decide. we can meet in the Lake, tomorrow at 6.” I say with precision and walk past him toward my cabin door.

I open the door and turn to him, he stands there staring at me, with an expression I surprisingly can’t read. I nod my head towards the door.

He stares at me for another 5 seconds before making his way to me.

he looks at me with this deep look, as if he was mesmerizing my face, as if he’d never see me again.

finally, he nods, at what i’m not sure, and then he leaves. I close the door behind him.

I take off one of my headphones and sit at the edge of the lake, wrapping my arms around my legs, not quite touching the water.

They told me he was bad, but I knew he was sad That's why I fell for the leader of the pack

I sense him before I see him. it’s a moment before he sits next to me.

He sort of smiled, then kissed me goodbye The tears were beginning to show As he drove away on that rainy night

I’m tired of waiting, of hoping he’ll be the one to break the silence. I’m tired of playing this game where we both lose because neither of us has the courage to make the first move. I know what I want. I know what I deserve. And it’s not this.

He needs to man up, to be the bigger man I know he can be. He needs to stop hiding behind his fears and take a stand. Because I can’t keep waiting forever. I won’t. I deserve someone who isn’t afraid to show their cards, who isn’t afraid to lay it all on the line for a chance at something real.

If Luke can’t do that, then maybe he’s not the man I thought he was. And that thought, that possibility, is what hurts the most. Because I see glimpses of that man in him, in those fleeting moments when his guard is down, and I want so desperately for him to step up, to prove me right.

I turn my head to look at him. staring at him for a few seconds, he knows what i’m thinking.

come on, say something.

silence.

But until he does, until he can find the courage to be more, we’re stuck in this torturous limbo. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer I can hold on, waiting for a man who might never come.

request are much obliged.

songs are listed below! 💋

#luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #percy and annabeth #percy and luke #percy jackon and the olympians #Spotify #angst #bittersweet #bitter end #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #pjo series

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mothiir · 10 months ago

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little rabbit, the bad ending

Inspired by reading about the big e’s mind control powers on @moodymisty’s asks and yeah this happened. It’s pretty bleak and answers the question- what happens when the emperor keeps hold of what he wants?

It is by no means the first time she has dreamed of the Emperor; he invades her dreams as he invades her body, appearing sometimes as a towering pillar of golden flame, sometimes as a slavering wolf with blood on its breath, sometimes as a a conquering barbarian, standing taller than any man she has ever known, hewn from copper and red stone, with eyes of fire. This time, he relaxes on a golden throne, his toga clean white linen, draped loosely over his muscular shoulders. She knows she is dreaming, because she can look at him without the well-accustomed headache — and because she can see out of both eyes, rather than having her right eye covered in a milky red film.

“How dare you?” she says, giving voice to the words she swallows down during the day — oh how she hates how he forces her to choke down so much; her emotions, her thoughts, his damn cock. “How dare you sit there, and pretend to be humanity’s saviour? You’re not a damn saviour. You’re a tyrant.”

He watches her impassively, and says nothing. Emboldened, she draws closer. In the manner of dreams, their surroundings are hazy and undefined; it is like she walks through early morning fog.

“You say you will save us all, but what from? You won’t say. You won’t tell anyone anything. You destroy what does not bend. You treat your sons as tools. They are human! We are all human! And you tell them that they have to purge what makes them human, all the love and the joy and —“

Her voice catches.

“Roboute loves me! And I him! And you took me! You took me, and you won’t give me back, and you — you r-r-rape me, and you toy with me, and if I am truly nothing to you, as you claim — I hear you claim! — then why don’t you just let me go?”

She dashes tears from her eyes. It’s a dream. She can cry from both eyes, here.

“What happens if you get your way? If humanity becomes like you? Cold and cruel and uncaring? If we lose our ability to love? To care? To sing and dance and — and create? If every civilisation we meet is destroyed? If everything is made in Your image? Then what? We’d be a shell! Humanity would not be human anymore! We would be a shadow. You’d sit there and rule over a universe of grey automatons, manifestations of Your will. Is that what You want?”

She stops before the throne. He’s not towering over here, here, when her mind can reduce him to the proportions of a man, not a divine being that denies its divinity. He is a tall man, but still a man. She can look him in the face.

”You claim not to be a god, but you act like one. You want to be a god but answer no prayers. You want to be obeyed as a father but not love like one. You’re a hypocrite. A coward. Dodging responsibility. Dodging everything.”

Breathless with rage, she stops, waiting for the dream-Emperor to respond. When he does, a thrill of fear races down her spine.

“How interesting.“

Her mind can replicate much, but not that — not the reverberating echo of the Emperor’s true voice. This is not a dream. Against all probability, this is him.

(Of course it is. He’s a psyker, the strongest psyker that ever lived, and to him the minds of humans are just another plane to wander.)

”I have seen the future. I have seen the horrors that await our kind. I have torn myself apart and built myself anew to avoid them. And yet…maybe. Maybe some amendments are required.”

”I don’t understand — “

He catches her by the waist, and pulls her into his lap, smiling down at her. His eyes are the heart of a sun. His mouth is the throat of a forest fire. Be thou afraid —

“You do not have to. But you are correct — Roboute does love you, and it pains him to see you so. I will fix this. I will fix everything.”

The light blinds her. And she wakes. And she doesn’t.

—

Roboute Gulliman, Primarch of the Thirteenth, walks beside his Lord Father, discussing their latest campaign against a nasty strain of orks in the distant reaches of the eastern Imperium, and how best to deal with them. It is an honour to be so close to the Emperor, and he feels his approval like a golden balm as he presents strategies, and the Emperor congratulates him on having such a sharp mind. It would be so easy for one so powerful to be a distant, unreachable god-like figure, but the Emperor is not — he may not have raised Roboute, but he is wholly his father. Roboute barely recalls his foster-father’s name these days.

A slight disturbance draws his attention; a human woman, clad in an ornate gold gown, ducks out of one of the side rooms. The Emperor beams at her.

“Excuse me, Roboute. I think my consort needs my attention. She is a needy little thing — and quite insatiable.”

Roboute’s cheeks colour a little — he’s no Leman or Horus, happy to trade bawdy jokes with the Emperor — and he politely averts his eyes as the Emperor scoops the woman up and plants a kiss on her, his tongue sliding between her parted lips.

“How’s my girl? Restless? Be at ease; I’m almost done here, and Roboute will be on his way — and you’ll have me all to yourself.”

He settles her on one of his hips, and nips at her throat. She’s looking directly at Roboute, her expression quite unreadable. Roboute realises he’s being unfanthomly rude, and offers a little courtly bow.

“My lady. It is a delight to make your acquaintance. I have heard tales of your beauty, and I can see that they were all correct.”

”Thank you, my Lord Primarch,” she says, her voice tiny.

“She’s more than a beauty,” says the Emperor, fondly. “She keeps me human, don’t you my love? She shows me how to not lose sight of the small things, when the grand design occupies so much of my attention. Without her, I fear I’d forgot how to relate to humans at all!”

Roboute chuckles politely, but there’s something about the woman’s gaze — something so sad. Maybe —

A flash of gold out of the corner of his eye — probably the sun reflecting on the walls. The thought vanishes. He will head out soon, out to war for the sake of his father, and for humanity. His great purpose. His birthright.

And all he ever wants, and all he ever wanted.

#emperor/reader #In case it isn’t clear yes the emperor tinkered with gullimans memory so he forgot his wife ever existed #-#and hey maybe this is all for the best because the emperor learning to act more like a decent father might stop the heresy #and all it takes is the sacrifice of one man and one mortal woman so that’s ok right #right

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illusioninfnty · 5 months ago

Text

Outlast: Chapter Eleven (Sam Giddings x Reader)

Dereliction

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3K

5:16

“Guys, over here!”

Deep in the tunnels, the three of you had been trying to find a way to get back through to the sanitorium to warn Mike, and of course he had to lock the door behind him. But it seems as though Ashley figured out another way through, given the manhole she points out to you as you and Sam run over to her.

“This’ll work,” Sam remarks. Using a nearby pipe, she pulls the manhole covering open. You help her push the cover to the side and all three of you look down into the dark hole, only illuminated by Sam’s headlight.

“Ugh, this is the last place I wanna be right now,” Ashley whines.

You roll your eyes. “I’ll go in first.”

The rusty bars are cold as you grip onto them, carefully shuffling yourself down the cramped hole. When your feet finally hit the ground, it’s difficult to see what’s around you. Instead of trying to fumble around in the darkness you help Sam get down, who follows you soundly after.

Once it’s Ashley’s turn, you begin to make your way through, looking for a path that might bring you all to where Mike might be. You spot one that looks promising, and nudge your head towards it. “Let’s go this way,” you say with confidence, and you don’t wait for a response as you start off.

“Hey,” Ashley mutters, “should we close it?” she says, gesturing to the manhole cover. “I mean, what if someone was following us?”

“Sure, close it. We just gotta keep moving. Catch up with us, alright?” Sam calls out impatiently to her. You’re already getting farther and farther ahead, and Sam wasn’t too privy on getting separated from you again.

“Yeah, got it,” Ashley replies as Sam walks off, on her way to catch up to you.

When you hear Sam shuffle up beside you, you reach your arm around her, rubbing a thumb into her shoulder. “How are you holding up?” you ask her in a gentle voice.

She sighs. “I’ll be much better when we’re out of this place.”

You can’t help but nod in agreement, and you enjoy the moment of brevity during your comfortable silence before everything inevitably goes to shit once again.

It only lasts for a couple of minutes before you two reach a dead end, an imposing rock wall standing before you.

“Well shit.”

“Hey,” Sam punches your arm playfully, a smirk ghosting her face. “This is easy stuff, like rock climbing. We can make it up, no sweat.”

She starts feeling around the structure for a crevice where she can grip onto. “Has Ash caught up to us yet?”

You turn to look behind you, not even realizing that she wasn’t following along. The path behind you is dark and empty and the space is silent, with a lack of any faint whimpers or complaints that would typically be heard from the redhead.

“Probably went back to the lodge,” you utter, brows furrowing in frustration. “Didn’t have the balls to tell us to our face. Coward.”

Sam nudges you with her foot. “Stop that. She was scared.” She surveys the wall again. “It’s probably better for her to hole up in there until we’re all back anyway. I don’t think she’d be able to make it up here.”

As she begins to hoist herself up onto the wall, she looks back at you over her shoulder, a flirtation dancing in her eyes. “Mind giving me a boost?”

A nearly identical look forms on your own face. “With this view? It would be my pleasure.”

She snorts as you help her up the wall, allowing her to climb it with ease. You follow behind her closely, your hands deftly reaching into grooves, securing your position on the wall.

Sam was always the adventurous type, and the two of you went on countless rock climbing dates, so this was a breeze.

When you both make it to the top, two paths wait ahead of you. To your left lies a ledge that you could drop down, and to the right of you was a pathway leading to a wooden staircase.

“Which way?” Sam asks, her thoughts no doubt mirroring your own.

You ponder just for a moment, but the choice wasn’t really a hard one for you to make. “The stairs.” It was way too risky to try and drop down a level, especially since you just had just previously come from below. It was more likely you’d find Mike’s location by continuing to go up rather than going back down.

Sam leads the way and you follow close behind. The stairs creak below you as you cautiously make your way across.

“I just can’t believe Em is…” Sam trails off, her thoughts wandering from your friend’s death earlier.

Guilt eats away at you, gnawing at the pits in your stomach and burrowing itself deep enough where it feels ingrained into your system. “She didn’t have to die,” you say, your voice strained. “I tried to…”

“I know you did.” Sam replies. She lets out a heavy sigh. “But we can’t change what already happened. Just need to make sure we get the fuck out of here so her death—everyone’s deaths—won’t be for nothing.”

A loud rumble suddenly sounds from behind you, and you hurry yourself and Sam ahead as a large boulder falls and destroys part of the staircase behind you. Tense silence follows the brutal damage.

“No turning back now,” Sam mutters as you two continue along the path.

Sam bringing up Emily has you thinking about your other friends. Jessica, you knew she was dead. No way could she survive with her jaw ripped off. You had a front row seat to Chris’s decapitated head, and Ashley no doubt turned her ass back around and secured herself in the lodge—probably the smartest move, you could admit, despite giving her shit for it—and Mike was of course on the hunt for Josh.

The only ones whose fates you weren’t entirely sure of at the moment were Josh and Matt.

“Hey Sam?” She hums in response, indicating she’s listening. “Did Emily bring up what happened to Matt? He didn’t come back to the lodge with her?” Your gut was already telling you that you knew the truth, but you wanted the confirmation anyway. So many of your friends had already died tonight, and if there was just even a sliver of hope that another one may have made it, you wanted to know, to cling onto that hope and let it guide you through the rest of the night.

Her initial silence answers your question, but she replies anyway. “She said he didn’t make it. Tried to save her when she fell into the mines, and he went down with the radio tower.”

“Shit,” you utter, too drained to even have any other response.

“We can’t dwell on it right now,” Sam says—always the positive one.

You two finally reach the end of the path, a small ledge before you. You notice Sam picks up a steel pipe that rests against the rocks to your side.

“What, am I not enough protection for you, babe?” you joke, chuckling as she rolls her eyes at you.

“Never hurts to be too careful.” She drops down the ledge first, and the two of you walk past piles of debris, towards a metal door.

But before you can go through, the door bursts open with a loud clang as Mike falls through, a flaming wendigo trailing behind him, ready to pounce.

“Mike!” Sam cries. You go to take out your gun and shoot but Sam beats you to the punch, swinging the pipe at the wendigo, her second swing lobbing its head clean off its body.

“How’s that for extra protection?” she eyes you smugly, twirling the pipe in her hand.

You whistle in admiration before turning your attention to Mike, grabbing his hand and hoisting him up to his feet. “Up and at ‘em, pardner,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Fuck off,” Mike replies with no malice behind his words. “You ladies alright?”

“Define alright,” Sam starts as you stare him down, unamused with the sudden charm he’s trying to put on.

“Alive, for a start,” he says, pointing out the obvious.

“Well, obviously,” you chime in.

“The fuck are you guys doing down here anyway?” he continues, ignoring your jab.

“We were going to warn you about the wendigos,” Sam says abashedly, “but it seems you already got the memo.”

“Yep.”

“Why don’t we just get a move on and find out where this fucker lives…” you say, leading the charge through another pathway.

6:00

“I was not prepared for how ugly that thing was up close.”

You, Sam, and Mike all navigate through the mines, stepping over some uneven rocks as you do so.

With her comment, it just dawns on you that this was the first wendigo that Sam had actually seen. You feel as though you’ve been practically surrounded by them all night, and Mike certainly had to just go through the wringer with a bunch of them, given how beat up he looks right now.

“There was something weird about it, though,” Mike says inquisitively.

“Oh yeah?” you say, knowing it won’t be as weird as he thinks.

“It had this scar on it, the same one I saw on this guy in these pictures I found in the mines. He was transforming.” He stops, turning to look at both of you. “These wendigos, they’re the miners from that cave-in, back in the 50’s. Had to have been done here for decades.”

Not all of them, you think to yourself.

“Which means there has to be dozens of them down here.” You sigh, running a hand over your face in exasperation.

“Hey,” Sam bumps her shoulder with yours. “We’ve got one down, at least.”

“Definitely got some more of the fuckers after blowing up the sanitorium,” Mike adds in.

“Alright.” Motivation surges through you. Sam and Mike are more than capable; you actually see a viable chance of you all getting the fuck out of here together.

“It is weird though, that these things were once human,” Sam says as she shudders.

“You’re gonna want to put those thoughts to the side,” you reply, your head on a swivel as you all travel deeper into the mines. “It’ll only make it harder to kill them, thinking of them as what they once were.”

You finally think you’re getting somewhere when you stumble across water. Sam continues on a pathway to your left, calling out to you and Mike.

“Looks like a fucking grave over here,” Mike surveys as he follows after Sam.

When you approach, Sam is crouched down, holding a small item and inspecting it. You lean over to get a closer look.

“Guys, this is Beth’s watch!” she gasps, flipping the device over. Beth W is engraved in the back of it.

“Fuck,” Mike utters, just as you respond as well. “Definitely means we’re close to the wendigo’s hideout.”

“She was buried here,” Sam starts, “but who dug her up?”

“Let’s keep moving,” Mike replies. He climbs into the water first, and you follow shortly after. The water is ice cold, a shock running through your system. It’s deeper than you thought, reaching up to the top of your thighs.

You hold onto Sam’s hand as she drops in, immediately shivering as she makes contact with the water. “It’s freezing. I can’t feel my fingers.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Mike says, and the three of you wade through the water, making your way to the small alcove on the left side.

Lifting yourselves up, you only walk forward a little bit until you spot a dirty notebook opened up on the ground.

“Oh shit, this looks like Hannah’s writing,” Mike says as you all approach it and Sam begins to read the text.

Your fears are confirmed as entry after entry becomes more scrawled and illegible than the next. Hannah had been down here, hurt and alive, this entire time. She had done what you never should do out here in the mountains.

“She buried Beth,” you start, saying your thoughts out loud. Sam and Mike turn to look at you. “She buried Beth, but she was starving. She thought she didn’t have a choice. She—she didn’t have a choice. She dug her up and ate her.” You drop your head into your hands, the all-too-familiar feeling of failure you had last year when you were helpless in saving your friends festering up in your gut now.

Sam bites her lip. “It can’t be—!”

“The wendigo that took Josh,” you interrupt, desperately needing to tell them what you know. “I got a good look at it, up close. On its shoulder, there was a butterfly tattoo. Identical to Hannah’s.” You glance at Mike. “Just like the matching scar you saw from that wendigo back there with the miner.”

“Fuck!” He hisses, still looking to be in disbelief from this new revelation.

“We need to find Josh. Right now.” Sam says, taking initiative and turning back on her heel.

You all return to the water, hoping to find Josh soon and get the fuck out of these mines before more trouble finds you.

None of you notice the beady eyes of the wendigo that watches you, it’s butterfly tattoo a shining beacon as to who it used to be just one year ago.

Character Traits:

Honest: 6/10 ↑

Charitable: 9/10

Funny: 4/10

Brave: 8/10 ↑

Romantic: 8/10 ↑

Curious: 5/10

Relationship Status: