#MY CHILDREN HAVE NO TASTE IN MEN
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stevesbipanic · 2 years ago
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Hopper and Will bonding over them thinking Mike and Eleven are gross together. Hopper loves this arrangement glad that his new son his some sense in the world. They silently rejoice together when they break up. Hopper is happy finally he has peace. That is until of course he discovers the reason Will hated it when he brings home his new boyfriend.
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cielrouge · 7 months ago
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tagged by @piyo-13 to make a poll of my top 5 characters and see who comes out on top and well....
Honorable Mentions: Mishil from Queen Seondeok (the OG baddie bitch antiheroine!!! Watching this sageuk as a kid literally alternated my brain chemistry hahaha), Emily Throne from Revenge (another OG antiheroine girlie I was frothing at the mouth over!!!) and Jem Carstairs from The Infernal Devices (the stranglehold this boi had on me during the heyday of the YA paranormal romance era LMAOOO)
Tagging @gyuseulogy, @selkiestars, @skadren, @whenquietthunders, @yukipri, and anyone else who wants to do this!
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crimeronan · 1 year ago
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it's genuinely very sad that so many of you guys have never seen breaking bad it's unironically one of my fave shows ever ever Ever and probably always will be. absolutely indefensible in terms of diverse casting or unproblematic representation, but also like...... So Fucking Good.
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ilynpilled · 1 year ago
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which asoiaf characters would you put in a saw trap?
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brynn-lear · 7 months ago
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I never got too deep into enstars but there are days where I miss Mama 😔
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#no one should ever be surprised that I main Boothill >:( /silly#yeehaw partner /jjjjjjjjj#i also like eichi for the aesthetic. he's like if you mix dain's face and ayato's mindset. actual warcriminal emperor-#and i think in terms of singing kaito slays 🔥🔥🔥🔥 I'm sorry.#actually in terms of songs in general imho it's valkyrie and akatsuki HAHAHAH#then idk i think i vibe with most undead songs though i wish there were like valentine eve's nightmare-#PERFECTLY-IMPERFECT 🔥🔥🔥🔥#fORBIDDEN RAIN- okay ill#stfu abt undead songs HAHAH#me typing these tags just slowly but surely reminds me I actually very much enjoy adonis' voice#in terms of trauma I think I got it most from Eden songs HAHAHAHHA the fricking apocalypse dance shit i forgot name but THAT#i love how i went “oh i like undead too but not as much i guess” and then proceeded to talk about undead songs more than akatsuki#and valkyrie HAHAHAHHA I'm a fricking liar#HEY HEY i mostly like valkyrie cuz shu's voice is mesmerizing- and every song in akatsuki slays because of their vocals even if I'm not th#e biggest fan of their genre leave me alone my biggest taste in men depends on their voice 😭😭😭😭😭#though in terms of friendship MaM/DoubleFace CrazyB and alkaloid for sure we'd be friends absolutely-#i played the music!! one not the original and nothing got me as hyped in the story as the fricking crazy roulette HAHAHAHA#GOT ME FEELIN LIKE I WAS IN THE CONCERT#never be a loooooSAAAAAUURRRRR *breakdances*#kiss of life is also mwah they're all my children. i know nothing on properly playing this game but i know i tried to main the christian guy#produce? forgot name but HIM I also love his voice and I have one of his priest card so he fricking dances with the priest uniform HAHAHAH#random confession: i don't have a 5 star mama card. orz.#anyways back to regular chaos in the tags omg aira i remember him what a mood and also the phantom oh frick forgot his name but i have his#sanrio card HAHAHHA 😭😭 i haven't leveled it up. i don't play this religiously-#the grind feels so overwhelming and i understand nothing I'm still on the work task 2 thing HAHHAA 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#most importantly i want to mention my redhead son i forgot his name but i love him very much my pretty son and his chaotic older bro i#support them both amen#as for fine. i don't really like most their songs that much...? okay this time I'm not lying like with Undead HAHAHAH I do vibe with#tempest nights for SURE absolute bop my dear blue haired clown is my fave fine member (as you can tell i love my loud girlies HAHAHHA)#most knight songs are bops and I like all the members- specially mister ensemble stRaws musiC (my other red haired son)
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knaveofmogadore · 10 months ago
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Kfkdks
#messages from knave#im making breakfast and im gonna list my observations from three years of weird living situations#younger siblings of big age gaps will see most interactions as a form of soft combat until trained out of it#but when actual clmbat happens they're used to not having any sway so they don't actually know how to act in arguments#siblings with codependent relationships have their own internal langauge that they apply to others. not sure if they realize they do it#but they'll hold you to the same rules they've mentally created for each other without explaining them#siblings of ALL stripes will approach situations with a set idea of how communication works. and even if it's not a logical way to communica#they'll expect you to also communicate in that way. and if you can't or refuse they'll shut down and communication stalls completely because#they can't fathom doing it any other way except the way they and their siblings socialized each other to do it#siblings with adversarial relationships don't take outside advice and will take attempts to give advice as manipulative. not their fault#oldest siblings are the most conflict averse people on the planet. oldest sinlings say#'is anyone gonna balloon this situation out of proportion by avoiding it for as long as possible' and not wait for an answer#siblings who were regularly appointed as hall monitors will see any interaction with you as transactional#a hallmark of a dysfunctional sibljng relationship is someone who thinks telling you NO is worse than going through a situation they do not#wanna be in. and then they'll complain about it endlessly#and then they'll be like 'i don't want favours from my parents because they'll hold it over me' and never make the connection on their own#people cannot anticipate your needs with their minds. they are sometimes going to ask you to be a part of things you don't wanna#you're NEVER gonna be able to live in a world where people will stop asking you to be a part of things that's not feasible#had one say once 'people should just know not to ask me along for plans I can't get to people should know not to invite me'#and you know dude that's just now how stuff works. there's a difference between 'x cant drive so they can't help me move my dresser' and#'i know xs work schedule so i shouldnt infomr them of group plansnon the off chance they could make it so they don't feel left out'#people with hyper competitive siblings can't fathom that other people won't know how to do stuff. i don't just mean athletes but siblings#with that scarcity mindsetnin general like they can't handle people not having the same knowledge base they have. it's a survival thing#and NO having a life of suffering doesn't make you correct all the time has literally anyone else watched heathers#youngest siblings always have the most deranged dating stories and the oldest in a set of age gap siblings always has the WORST taste in men#< that's directed at my sister and no one else that's a personal diss not a real observation#only children have one thing. theyre SUPER weird about splitting the grocery bill#food is NOT communal to only children I've learned firsthand. Also they'll be perfectly fine sharing anything else BUT food usually#weed. loans. bathroom supplies. dishes. ect. but NOT food#meanwhile sibljngs are a little TOO comfortable chowing down on stuff they didn't buy. bad roommates are bad roommates
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entitled-fangirl · 6 months ago
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Lost.
Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader
Summary: the reader accompanies her brother and Cregan to the Wall to discuss an alliance. But the news of Luke's death causes turmoil among them.
Warnings: Blood, cursing, grief, death, miscarriage, Cregan fucking crying
A/n: based on this ask!
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She had to practically beg him.
"No. No, and you need to drop it," he said as he began to lace up his boots.
She whined and pulled herself from the bed, her hair a mess and still only in her shift, "Cregan."
Cregan let out a soft growl, "You dragons just don't see reason, do you?"
She smiled and neared him. Her hands rested over his, keeping him from lacing his boots. "I want time with my brother again. Is that so terrible?"
"It's a two week trip to the Wall."
"That's at least a month with him." She gripped his hands tighter, "Please, Cregan."
He sighed, "The prince will have plenty of time with you before and after. I won't have my wife and unborn child far from the maesters." He let out a forced laugh, "Or near the men of the Wall, for another matter."
"There are maesters there, Cregan. And we all know I am safest with you."
He stared at their connected hands for a while, a million thoughts ringing loudly in his head, but all unvoiced. 
"We still have a few months until the birth," she continued to reason. "And you know I grow cold at night when you're gone."
Cregan smiled up at her. He pulled his hand from hers to rest over her small swollen stomach. 
As much as he wanted to lock her away from the threats of the world, he knew doing so would hurt her more than letting her go.
He chewed at his lip. "If I let you," he began, "You will take no chances. On anything."
"None," She agreed. "Nothing at all." Her hand joined his on her stomach. "I'll stay by your side. I promise."
"Alright." 
"Ready to go?" Jace smiled as his sister neared. 
She grinned back as she took his arm, "I've been ready since I heard you were arriving, brother."
He chuckled lightly as the two began to walk to the stable, "Must I say, you practically glow like the sun nowadays."
She huffed, "Do not lie."
"I don't," he said. "There is more color to you."
"That is only the cold nipping at me and coloring my cheeks."
He laughed again, "Maybe so. But either way, You are a natural, my dear sister. A healthy boy is on the way, I know it."
"A boy?" She asked with raised brows. "Oh no, Cregan and I think it's a girl."
He hummed in thought, "No. It's not. I know these things."
She laughed and playfully hit his arm, "You know nothing of this!"
He grinned and shrugged, "All the same. You'd raise a wonderful boy-"
"-Or girl."
"-or girl. Either way, I shall be a very proud uncle."
"Oh, you must wed Baela soon brother, please."
"So eager?" He asked with a smile.
"Our children would be such wonderful friends." Her eyes lit up and she squeezed his arm, "Or such a beautiful betrothal! Think of it!"
Jace look away in thought, "Perhaps so. I hadn't considered that."
"Only," she began again. "I shall pray your boy does not inherit your unruly curls!" 
"Ah, you're the one having a boy first. I said so."
"Oh. So, you wish to have a girl, brother?"
He bit his lip, "If the gods wish it, then yes."
"You'd be wonderful to a daughter, Jace."
His brows furrowed, "Let us focus on the baby at hand, please. And get you to the stables before Cregan has my head."
Cregan helped her into the lift at the bottom of the wall, pulling her to him to make room for Jace. 
"I sent a letter to mother before we left," Jace began. "About the child. Luke, Joffrey, and I will choose a dragon egg and send it to you upon my return home."
Her eyes lit up, "Thank you. That was… That was very thoughtful."
Jace looked up to Cregan, who looked at Jace as if he was going to explode any second. 
A dragon? In Winterfell? Around his child? 
But he said nothing. 
"Do have Luke pick it." She finally said. "He has the best taste in such things."
Jace laughed lightly, "I will. But I will not tell him you said so. I can't have him getting prideful."
A silence fell over them as the lift brought them further and further up the wall.
"So, what is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones?" Jace asked.
"This is only a late summer snow, my prince." Cregan finally spoke, "In winter, it will cover all you see."
"It's quite beautiful, Jace." She smiled, "If you have a warm cloak, that is."
Cregan and Jace walked together along the ice halls of the Wall, the Lady Stark behind, making her rounds around the men at work, thanking them, and chatting as she moved. 
"Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince." Cregan began, "But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between north and south. In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to king's landing. I need my men here." 
He looked behind him to his wife, who was in an intense conversation meters back, a hand resting on her stomach as she nodded along with the man that spoke.
"While your men guard against wildings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne." 
The two began to walk up to the outlook, Jace continued, "If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my lord." He looked out over the wall. "We cannot wage it without the support of the North."
Silence filled the air, save for the sound of the wind blowing loudly. 
"Do you think my ancestors built a 700-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?"
"What does it keep out."
"Death."
A man approached the two, "My lord, a raven's arrived. Urgent news from Dragonstone."
Y/n's head perked up, and she immediately excused herself from her conversation to go to her husband.
Cregan unraveled the note, his eyes flitting across the paper hurriedly, and a furrowing in his brows formed.
She moved to Jace and his arm wrapped around her side, pulling her to him. "Cregan," she said. "Is everything alright?"
He looked up at the two Velaryons.
Then held the paper out to Jace.
Cregan then reached out and took his wife from the man, having a new sense of needing her near him.
When Jace read the note and his hand covered his mouth, she became worried, "Jace?"
He didn't answer, but Cregan's grip on her tightened and one hand rested protectively over her swollen belly.
"Jace. Please."
"It's alright," Cregan whispered into her ear, "We're alright." He looked up to Jace, a silent plea to keep calm in front of her.
Jace's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to smile with gritted teeth, "Just a slight hiccup, dear sister."
He gripped the note with an iron grip, not caring of the tears or crinkles it could bring.
He shook his head and began to storm off.
"Jace…" "-It's fine!" He shouted. "Everything is just fine."
He stormed off before she could get it out of him.
She turned around in Cregan's grip, "My love. Please tell me what has happened."
He shook his head and brushed a piece of hair from her face, "No. You needn't worry about these things. It's bad for the babe."
"Cregan-"
“Please do not ask me to bring you torment, my girl,” Cregan said with a tilt of his head.
“Cregan, you torment me by keeping me in the shadows.”
“Trust me when I say, I am not.”
She pulled herself from his hands, “No. You do. Now, tell me.”
Cregan’s jaw tightened and his voice became stronger, “I won’t.”
“Speak the words, Cregan.”
He stared back.
“Say it.”
Silence.
Her voice grew desperate, “Say it.”
He simply stared, a slight tilt to his head.
“If you love me as your wife, you’ll not keep this from me.”
He immediately took a step and his voice lowered, “Do not use such words-“
She growled, “then fucking say it.”
He took steps to her, their faces not far, “You won’t hear it from me.”
“Then I will find it elsewhere," she sneered in his face.
She stormed off, Cregan left to stare over the wall.
He wanted to chase after her. Stop her and correct it all. But he just couldn’t.
This news changed everything.
She opened the door, finding Jace in the midst of a fit of rage, throwing his cup against the wall.
“Jace?”
He looked up at her, forcing himself to calm. She moved to him and held her arms out.
And he collapsed against her, weeping into her neck.
“Jace. Jace, it’s alright.” She cooed lightly to him.
“He’s gone. He’s gone and I wasn’t there.”
Gone? Who? 
Her mind began to race and her heart dropped.
Surely not Daemon. Jace wouldn’t weep as if his world crumbled.
Gods, Jace hadn’t wept at all since the day Ser Harwin died.
“Jace. Look at me.”
She pulled his face to look at him, “What happened?”
“I promise you, I’ll kill them all. I will.”
“Calm yourself, dear brother.”
“CALM MYSELF?” He roared and pulled back from her. “Our brother is dead and you tell me to calm myself?”
Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she sniffled lightly. 
A hand shot to her stomach.
“Luke?”
Jace brows immediately relaxed, “gods, you didn’t… Stark didn’t…”
“Luke is dead?” She whispered as a shaky hand covered her mouth.
“I didn’t mean to… please, come here.”
The two siblings embraced, Jace holding her tightly against him and brushing through her hair as she began to wail against him.
Her hands clutched at his cloak and it quickly became wet with her tears.
Cregan threw the door open and his entire body stiffened at the sight.
She turned her head against Jace’s chest. She spoke through broken hiccups, “Luke…”
Cregan’s eyes softened as he saw her puffy eyes, “I know.”
Jace tightened his hold, “Aemond hunted him down on his dragon.”
Cregan watched her eyes completely glaze over and her breath quickened.
She let out a low groan.
“Sister? Sister, please.”
She pulled away and a hand quickly moved to her stomach, her brows furrowed.
“Cregan…”
“Fuck…” Cregan immediately moved to her and pulled her into his arms. “My love, please steady yourself.”
A few more tears slipped from her eyes, “It hurts, Cregan.”
No.
No. No. No.
He gripped her biceps in an iron grip, “No. No, you’re alright.”
She shook her head, “No. I’m not.” She gritted her teeth and her eyes closed. “I’m not. Please.”
“My girl.” He cooed, “Let us sit you down.”
She gasped at a sudden feeling.
“Sister…” Jace took a step towards her.
“Please," She begged and held a hand out, stopping him. “I…”
A low and pained groan and her knees buckled.
Cregan caught her with ease, holding her up. “My prince. Bring me that chair.”
Jace moved immediately, pulling a wooden chair across the floor with a loud scrape.
Cregan lowered her into the chair, cringing at the whimper that left his wife’s mouth.
“Perhaps a maester…?” Jace asked.
“No-“
“-Yes,” Cregan nodded. “Yes. Please.”
“Cregan,” she cried. “I can’t. I can’t lose her-“
“-if we do not fetch the maester, then she will be.” Cregan’s eyes were set, as if challenging her to fight him on it.
“Fine. Fine, please.”
Jace quickly left in practically a sprint.
“It’s not your fault, you know.”
She turned to the Stark, “What?”
He looked like he was ready to cry. His bottom lip quivered, “if you do lose her.”
Her eyes saddened and her hand moved to his face, “I can’t.”
“You will, my love.” He forced a deep breath to hold back the tears and let out a breath, “She is gone now, I’m sure of it.”
If she wasn’t in pain enough, that multiplied it.
Four hours later, Jace and Cregan sat in the opposite end on the room, watching the maester work endlessly.
But they were silent. Their eyes were both fixed on the blood that stained everything.
She had fallen asleep long ago, from the pain or loss of blood, they weren’t sure.
But it gave their ears a break from her piercing cries that rang through the entirety of the Wall.
When the maester moved to the two men, they stood.
“My lord, my prince,” he began. “The Lady has lost much blood.”
“Will she live?” Cregan immediately asked.
“I…” he bit his lip. “She will, my lord, but…”
“That is all I need. You may go.”
“Lord Stark-“
“GO!” He growled.
The maester bowed his head and quickly left, pulling the door behind him.
Silence filled the room. Both men still stared at the poor woman who slept away the pain.
Jace had left not long after, wandering the halls of Castle Black in thought, so it was only Cregan in the room when she woke.
She let out a low groan, and he held her hand in his. "Lovely, how are you feeling?"
Her eyes studied him before a light sob racked through her.
He lightly kissed her knuckles, knowing that was the only comfort he could bring to her at the moment.
"I told you it wasn't your fault."
"But I…" She hiccuped and wiped her face with her free hand, "I pushed for you to tell me. I… I forced you to let me accompany you here."
"You did not do any of that," he reprimanded. "None of it."
Her eyes held a hollowed look to them, "I lost the future of Winterfell."
Her brows furrowed and his hand smoothed the hair from her forehead.
"A boy," she sniffled. "Would've been."
He felt a punch to his gut.
He'd seen battle before, but nothing caused him as much pain as this moment. 
He looked down at their intertwined hands, "It does not mean that all is lost, my girl."
"Then why does it feel like it?"
His eyes watered, and his nose scrunched in frustration. He wanted to curse as his bottom lip trembled for the second time today, "I don't know."
A single tear ran down the Wolf's face.
"But I promise you," He sniffled. Another tear down his face as he let out a soft breath, "You have not lost me."
"I couldn't give you an heir."
"And I do not know how to comfort you through it."
She pushed herself up and he shook his head, "No, you need to rest."
But she managed to sit herself up against the headrest.
Her hand brushed his cheek and he couldn't stop the tears that began to rush down his face.
"Oh, Cregan," she cooed.
His hand brought her other one up to his lips again, kissing her knuckles fervently this time, as if she would disappear if he didn't.
"Hey. Stop," she tilted her head. "Cregan. Stop."
His eyes looked to her through a blurry haze.
"It's not your fault either, you know." She finally said.
He forced a laugh and shook his head. "I fear I'd go mad without you, my girl."
"As I with you."
The two managed to catch their breath in the silence that followed, a promise that things would get better if they only let it.
He leaned forward to her, gently connecting their lips. 
She let out a whine, accepting his kiss eagerly. 
His hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her to him. He hardly cared about the salty taste of the tears on their lips.
He pulled away first.
"I'll promise our graybeards to the queen," Cregan stated as he sat back down.
She huffed, "Don't pity me and feel as if you must defend-"
His grip tightened on her hand, "I will have the head of that boy on a fucking spike." Cregan growled.
"He did not lose our child, I did!" She said with a raised voice.
His jaw clenched as his eyes bore into hers, "Aemond Targaryen lost the war the second he chased your brother with Vhagar. The graybeards will march when the time is right. In exchange for Aemond's head by the time the war is done."
"Cregan-"
"-He is why our son is dead. And the North will remember that."
She looked down to her stomach, rubbing a hand over what used to be there only hours before.
Cregan Stark's gaze became more rigid than the ice around them. 
"Winter is coming for the Greens."
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A/n: Okay, hey, now that you're depressed from this fic, let's talk. I'm making a Cregan Stark tag list! Let me know if you want on it!
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chososdiscordkitten · 10 months ago
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Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^
Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps
MDNI
Choso Kamo
The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this. 
But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you. 
It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name. 
He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand. 
No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead. 
And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum. 
“Now there’s my good boy.” 
You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips. 
And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side. 
The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store. 
His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it. 
“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it. 
You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay. 
“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.
Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name. 
‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner. 
For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name. 
And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes. 
After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say. 
So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name. 
His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name. 
You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale. 
Hiromi Higuruma
You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.
But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working. 
You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click. 
Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically. 
“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker. 
You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically. 
Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically. 
Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand. 
You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.
You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall. 
Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you. 
You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one. 
That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind. 
There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead. 
This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment. 
You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame. 
“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming. 
You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips. 
Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften. 
His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’ 
Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not. 
Naoya Zenin
Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose. 
He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind. 
But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see. 
He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips. 
But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.
“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted. 
You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.” 
He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different. 
You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise. 
“M’not a dog.” he muttered. 
“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.” 
That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now. 
And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.
But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.
Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet. 
Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time. 
Satoru Gojo
The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments. 
But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again. 
Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections. 
And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was. 
You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances. 
“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel. 
Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away. 
Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.” 
From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name. 
His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was. 
Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy. 
He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’
“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear. 
He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.
So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face. 
Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered. 
Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips. 
Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes. 
Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer. 
Kento Nanami
We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?
There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did. 
That was, until you got the guts to test the waters. 
Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep. 
You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off. 
You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed. 
Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt. 
A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see. 
Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches. 
But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard. 
“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect. 
Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.
A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale. 
“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same. 
Toji Zenin
He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you. 
Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap. 
But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working. 
Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot. 
“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him. 
“Then eat.”
Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips. 
“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of. 
You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought. 
Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.
“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen. 
Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you. 
He parted his lips with an inhale. 
“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you. 
“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone. 
“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time. 
He only let out a slight hum at your declaration. 
Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later. 
Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression. 
You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it. 
“No. I said you’re never a good boy.” 
He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share. 
Takuma Ino
One of the sweetest boys I can imagine. 
Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked. 
But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely. 
Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours. 
While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his. 
He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen. 
“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks. 
He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff. 
Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.
He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften. 
“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him. 
Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it. 
His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes. 
“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name. 
-
(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(
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athenamikaelson · 1 month ago
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Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 24
Word Count- 9.2k
Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death and violence, alcohol, kissing, sexual shiz, Klaus being freaky deaky (no children better be reading this)
A/n- Rebekah didn’t hook up with Damon she just hooked up with a rando after the dance!
“I’m bored,” Kol whined desperately to his siblings as they lounged in the grand living room.
Kol threw himself onto the leather ottoman, “Our sister is a strumpet, but at least she’s having fun. I need entertainment.”
Klaus narrows his eyes at his younger brother, “What are you waiting for? Go on have at it.”
“It’s no fun to go alone. Join me, Nik,” Kol leans forward with a mischievous look.
Klaus sends a bored look at him and then goes back to his sketch. Kol lets out a loud groan and stands up.
“Well, if you won’t go with me,” He taps his chin in thought, “I’m sure I can find someone to spend my afternoon with…what about that little mate of yours…Y/n, was it? Oh yes, I’m sure she’s great fun, I wonder if she’d let me-”
Kol is cut off from finishing his sentence as Klaus wraps his hand around his brother’s throat, “Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself right back into that coffin of yours, brother. I’m sure it’s missed your company.” Kol not entirely caring for his brother’s antics, rolls his eyes, “Joking, brother,” Kol plucks Klaus’ fingers off his throat one by one, “And as you should know, you’re mate and I are now,” Kol frowns, “What do they call it now…oh yes, besties.”
Klaus’ mood gets darker the more Kol speaks. 
“That’s not true!”
Both brothers turn at the whining of their sister.
“Y/n is my best friend!”
Kol raises an eyebrow in challenge, “Really? And did she say this herself or is this another one of your delusions.”
Rebekah glares at her brother before grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at him. 
Kol quickly darts away and laughs, “Your aim is almost as bad as your taste in men sister.”
Rebekah lets out a loud whine, resulting in Klaus groaning in annoyance. 
“Enough of you two,” Klaus throws himself back down onto the couch, “I’ll put both of you back into your coffins.”
“Mother would never allow that,” Rebekah says proudly as she sits on the same couch as Klaus. 
“Join me, brother. It’s the least you could do after sticking a dagger in my heart,” Kol tries to reason with Klaus. Besides, are you truly going to spend all afternoon drawing pictures of your pretty little obsession?”
Klaus’ eyes narrow at his brother, but he knows he can’t deny the accusation of his current muse. 
With a final sigh, Klaus stands with a sound of annoyance, “Okay. Why not? I didn’t have nearly enough to drink last night what with you trying to murder Rebekah’s date.”
Klaus strolls by both of his siblings, taking the sketchbook filled with drawings of his soulmate with him.
“Yes, please go, this house has enough men rolling around in it,” Rebekah says annoyed as Kol begins to follow his brother. 
Kol turns around and smirks at his sister, “Just like you, Bekah!”
Rebekah throws her purse at him, “Good riddance, both of you.”
“No sir,” I try not to roll my eyes at the middle-aged man sitting at the bar in front of me, “We do not offer refunds for alcohol you’ve already drank.”
The drunk man in front of me glares, “You’re mean.”
“I’m going to be a lot meaner if you don’t pay,” I deadpan back at him and with a roll of his eyes he fishes out a stack of ones from his pocket and throws them onto the bar counter. 
“Great,” I mutter as the man drunkenly stalks away. 
“Rough day?” I continue to count the ones as I answer Ric, “I love working my ass off for minimum wage.”
Ric lets out a chuckle, “Ya I bet… But if anyone can handle a job like this it’s you, Y/n.”
I look up from the money, “Ya? And why is that?”
Ric’s upper lip twitches, “You spent an entire summer living with Damon, without killing him. Because of that, I'm pretty sure you could do anything.”
I ponder Ric’s comment and then nod, “I am a person of great strength, aren’t I?”
Ric chuckles and raises his drink in agreement at my sarcastic comment, “Very much indeed.”
A moment later, a dark-haired woman sits down next to Ric. A little too close for my liking. Since Jenna has gone to Nebraska or wherever the hell she and Jeremy went, I’ve been keeping an eye on Ric to make sure he stays away from other women. She never asked me to do this, but as a fellow girls girl, I must. 
My shoulders deflate as a customer at the other end of the bar ushers me over. As I deal with him I keep sending glances over to Ric and the mystery woman, who appear to be in a serious conversation. 
After I deal with the man, I make my way over to Ric’s area and pretend to dry some glasses. Glasses I had already dried 20 minutes prior. 
“It’s impossible to know anything about whoever stabbed you,” I overhear the woman and I raise my eyebrows up in shock, “Short, tall, left-handed, right-handed, no clue.”
Why the hell does Ric keep getting killed?!?
“Well, what about my head, why can’t I remember anything about the attack?”
“Your CT scans were clear. Maybe you were compelled to forget,” THe woman answers Ric.
“That wouldn’t be possible,” I casually chime in as if I wasn’t already listening to their conversation. Both adults turn to me with confused faces, “Y’know since Ric practically bathes in vervain. He drinks it a lot…Just like his girlfriend, Jenna. His longtime girlfriend.”
The woman furrows her eyebrows and gives me an odd look and I smile at her sweetly before turning around and going back to fucking around with the glasses.
“Wait… you think the person who did this to me was a vampire,” Ric questions quietly to the rando.
“I mean it’s the only option,” She answers and I fight the urge to ask why I vampire would stab Ric when they could just bite him, or like rip his head off. 
“Oh, come on now.”
Oh god no. 
That British accent has me tensing my shoulders and keeping my gaze towards the wall, hoping he hasn’t noticed me. 
“Let’s not go blaming the new family in town just cause you lot have got yourselves a killer at large,” I hear Klaus say to Ric and whats-her-face, “Don’t mind us. My brother and I are just here to let off some steam, right, Kol?”
Great, he brought the ankle biter. 
“Right.”
Ric and the woman are silent for a moment. “Ric, I’m going to play some pool, join me,” The woman’s voice comes out urgent and I don’t have to have eyes in the back of my head to know Ric is staring at me. 
“Oh, don’t fret Alaric,” Klaus’ voice comes mocking, “I’m not going to lay a finger on Elena’s little friend, go have fun with your girl.”
His words hit my heart like a dagger, weird how now I’m just “Elena’s friend” when yesterday you were pretty much confessing your heart and soul to me. Pun intended. 
“You alright, kid?”
Without turning around I throw a thumbs up at Ric. After a moment I hear the screeching of two stools.
Everything is quiet for a moment. 
“If it isn’t my bestie.”
Lord, give me the strength. 
I slowly turn around and face the two brothers. One watching me with an amused smirk and the other…just watches me. 
Klaus’ eyes seem to be marking every inch of my face and body as if he’s committing me to memory. 
“Ankle biter,” I retort as I wipe my hands on my apron and begin to walk to the other side of the bar. 
“Aye, where do you think you’re going,” Kol’s foxlike tone halts me, “I would very much like a drink, and my brother here…well I’m sure a drink isn’t exactly what he wants from you.”
I almost choke on my breath at Kol’s words as I turn to face him. 
“Also, what is this ankle-biter nonsense? Is that some type of term friends use for one another in this century,” Kol asks as he places his chin on his hand, watching me. 
“Ya, sure.”
Kol seems to be delighted with my answer as he shoots a smug smile towards his brother. Klaus doesn’t give him the time of day though as he keeps his eyes on me. 
“What do you want to drink, Kol,” I take a step closer to the bar as I grab a glass for him and Klaus. 
“What do you recommend, Little Doll,” Kol smiles up at me. 
“Arsonic.”
A loud laugh escapes Kol’s lips, but it’s Klaus’ light chuckle that I can’t help but fall into. 
“Oh, she’s funny,” Kol says excitedly and then turns to his brother, “Odd fate mated her to the boring brothers,” this finally catches a glare from Klaus and Kol turns back to me and leans over the bar, “I’m sure I can contact some witch friends of mine and get that bond switched over to me. We’d have so much more fun.”
“Brother, another word out of you and it’ll be your tongue that comes out of your mouth,’’ Klaus bites and I instantly take a step back. 
My movement catches the hybrid's attention and a small frown makes its way onto his face. 
Klaus’ eyes are filled with something that makes my stomach twist. I turn my attention back towards Kol who is watching Klaus and I with his signature smirk. 
“You’re getting bourbon,” I tell him as I turn and grab a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind me. 
“Oh, goodie! Second shelf alcohol,” I bite down on my lip to keep my laugh hidden from Kol’s sarcastic remark. 
I turn back around pour the brown liquid into two glasses and then place them in front of the two men. 
“Thank you, Doll,’’ Kol says cheekily as he downs the liquid in one go. He then places the glass back on the counter and uses his forefinger to tap it. 
“You know you guys are going to have to pay for this right,” I tap the bottle and raise an eyebrow at both of them, “I’m on vervain so you can’t just compel me to make it on the house.”
Kol quickly flings a hand to his heart and a look of hurt comes over his face, “You would really assume such horrible assumptions of us?”
I don’t even blink as I answer, “Yes.”
Kol’s fake-hurt look instantly drops into a smirk, “And you’d be correct. Knew you were a smart one. But, don’t you worry,” He sends a glance to his brother who is still staring at me, “Elijah and this thing have already given our siblings a rule book of things to not do when it comes to you. Compelling you is number three,” Kol holds up three fingers.
I furrow my brows in confusion as I turn to Klaus who has now found interest in his still-full glass, “Rule book? And why is compulsion only number three?!”
“Oh yes, my brothers gave a whole presentation to us last night on things we’re not allowed to do,” Kol nods thoughtfully.
“Kol, I will dagger you,” Klaus’ threat comes out harsh as he glares at his younger brother. 
Kol rolls his eyes and then leans back over the bar again and whispers to me, “We’ll chat later.’
“You will not,” Klaus says before downing his downing his drink. 
“Unlike you, Elijah says we’re allowed to speak to her,” Kol says matter-of-factly to his brother with a smirk. 
In this light, no one would even guess that these two are psychopathic vampires, right now all they’re acting like is two brothers who like to piss each other off. 
“That is because of Rebekah, you weren’t a part of the pardon.”
Kol glares at his brother. 
“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” Kol turns back to me, “I won’t let them separate us.”
I purse my lips, “Yippee.”
Kol’s eyes go towards his drink and I roll my own. Nonetheless, I raise the bourbon bottle and pour him another one. I turn to look at Klaus, who surprise surprise is already looking at me, and I raise the glass in question.
Klaus nods his head, “Thank you, Love.”
I pour another drink for Klaus and then place the bottle onto the counter, then turn away hoping to go anywhere but here. 
“Little Doll, where are you going? Stay and chat with us,” Kol’s grating voice makes me roll my eyes. 
“I’m on the clock Kol. Unlike some people,” I send looks to both of the brothers, “I actually have to work to make money.”
Kol turns to his right side and then his left, “There’s no one else here, Darling.”
I copy his movements and let outa swear when I realize that there is no one else waiting for a drink. 
“Come chat with us,” Kol pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket and places it on the counter, “We’ll make it worth your time.”
“I’m not a prostitute, Kol.”
A low growl from Klaus sends shockwaves down my spine. 
“Don’t listen to the dog, Doll. And I’d never insinuate you were a lady of the night. And besides,” Kol’s smirk deepens, “I’ve never had to pay a woman to spend a night with me. If anything they should’ve been paying me.”
I watch in silent disbelief at Kol’s hurt expression as he finishes his sentence. And here I thought Theo was full of himself. 
“Right…”
“Ignore him, Astin Min, it’s what all my family does” Klaus’ voice pulls my attention.
A quick look of hurt covers Kol’s face and for a moment I wonder if he actually has real emotions.
“Whatever mutt.”
Nevermind. 
“Pour yourself a drink, Doll,” Kol turns to me with a smile, “On me.”
I open my mouth to reject him but Klaus speaks first.
“She doesn’t drink,” His tone comes out casual as he takes a sip of his own drink, but as his eyes meet mine I’m taken back to the night before when I told him things about myself that not even Theo knows.
“Well, that’s lame,” Kol mutters under his breath, “What else is there to do for fun around here other than drink?”
I break eye contact with Klaus and shrug my shoulders, “Pretty much nothing.”
“Then why do you live here,” Kol’s question comes off actually inquisitive, unlike his other comments.
“Ask my mother,” I mutter under my breath.
“Yikes,” Kol yips, “Are we not a fan of mummy dearest.”
I clench my fists as I think back to my mother.
“Drop it, Kol…Luv,” Klaus’ unusually soft voice sends a wave of comfort over me and I unclench my fists. 
“Would you mind,” He gestures to his finished drink.
I grab the bourbon bottle and begin refilling his drink. I notice though that instead of watching my face, like usual, he’s glaring at my hand. 
“Me too, Doll,” Kol chimes in, and after I fill his brother’s glass I fill his as well. 
“Why do you work here,” Klaus questions. 
I send him a glance and begin tapping my fingers to the song playing on the bar’s speakers, “As I said before, I need the money.”
“For what?”
I want to roll my eyes at Klaus’ questioning but when I see the honest look on his face I just shrug, “Stuff.”
Klaus’ eyebrows narrow, “Stuff? What kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know, like bills, and stuff. College savings.”
Klaus’ eyes narrow further as if he can’t grasp the concept of me having to work for this stuff, “Wouldn’t your mother be the one who pays for that stuff?”
I let out an annoyed laugh, “You would think?”
“You could quit,” Klaus’ comment makes me roll my eyes. 
“Have you not been listening? I need the money!”
Klaus leans back in his chair and sends me an annoyed look, “I’ll pay for these things.”
What is up with these Mikaelsons and wanting to financially support me??!?
“You’d pay for me,” I say skeptically, “You pay my car insurance, my car payment, my groceries, my taxes, my gas, my art supplies, my college fund, Theo’s college fund,” I list off all my expenses in annoyance.
“Without question.”
I eye Klaus for any sign of a lie, but the stern look on his face tells me everything I need to know. He’s being serious. 
I release an uncomfortable noise and look away from him, “Well, thanks…but I can do it myself.”
From my peripheral, I see Klaus lean in and rest his elbows on the counter, “Just because you can, Love, doesn’t mean you should have to.”
I feel a burning in my eyes as I consider Klaus’ words. 
“Good lord,” Kol groans, “If I’ll have to deal with this,” He gestures to Klaus and I, “For the next millenia. Might as well put me out of my misery and dagger me now.’’
Klaus sends a dark smirk to his brother, “With pleasure.”
“Oh! I remember her from last night,” Kol points off to the distance and I follow his finger towards Caroline, who has just walked in looking quite hot, “She looks like a tasty little thing.”
Klaus spares a fleeting glance at Caroline before turning back towards me, “Have at it brother,” He mutters without a care.
“Hello, Darling,” Kol calls to Caroline who strides past both men.
Caroline stops and sends a bored look to the men. Her gaze holds on Klaus’ back and a look of annoyance passes over her face.
“Join us for a drink will you,” Kol questions her and raises his glass. 
“Who’s us?”
Caroline’s words have no hold over me, but the way she keeps looking at Klaus’ back as if she wants his attention, makes an annoyance build in my chest. 
My eyes dart to Klaus momentarily and I see him send me an odd look before turning over his shoulder to glance at Caroline. The blonde vampire instantly flicks her hair over her shoulder as the hybrid looks at her and I hear Klaus let out a low chuckle. 
Caroline’s features instantly morph into annoyance again when Klaus turns back around to face me with a knowing smirk. 
“I’d rather die of thirst,” Caroline looks at Kol, “But thanks. Bye, Y/n.”
With one last glance at Klaus’ back, Caroline sends me a smile, before pretty much stomping back outside. 
“Well,” Kol turns back towards me, “Hand me that bottle, love. I’m going to go harass the locals.”
“Are you going to pay for it?”
Kol must notice my change in mood as he smirks and opens up his wallet, “Of course love. Wouldn’t want to make you mad.”
I watch in awe as Kol fishes out a handful of one-hundreds and throws them on the counter in front of him. 
“Kol, it’s a $80 bottle,” I say unbelievably.
Kol just smirks and shrugs, “With the way it tastes it better be…but the rest is your tip, Little Doll,” He reaches over the counter and grabs the bottle before standing up. He then glances at his brother, “Enjoy. Talk soon.”
I watch with my mouth open as Kol saunters over to the pool table where the woman Ric was previously talking to is standing. I turn my attention to the wad of money on the counter and quickly count it.
Eight hundred dollars. That’s a $720 tip. This is more than I’ll make in an entire month…hell two months. 
I shake my head in disbelief as a happy laugh escapes me.  
“Now that I know money makes you do that, I’ll be sure to tip you a lot.”
I look to Klaus, confused.
“What?”
Klaus looks at me with the same heartstopping look from last night, “Your smile,” He gestures to my mouth as if it’s nothing, “I rarely see you smile like that.”
Klaus’ comment has a wave of embarrassment flowing through me, “I’m not superficial or anything,” I deny as I hold the money close to me, “It’s just that…,” I pause unsure if I should continue, “This amount of money might not seem like much to you guys, but… to me, it’s life-changing. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on if times get tough. All I have is the money I save and with all the money I spend on bills and Theo’s sports…I don’t have much left. If any at all.” 
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/n. I may have never had to worry about money, but I understand what it feels like to want something out of reach.”
I tug on my bottom lip as I nod and put my large tip into my apron pocket, “Thanks.”
Klaus smirks, “No need to thank me, love.”
I lock eyes with him and I feel a small smile making its way onto my face. Klaus appears to start to say something but the voice of a customer from the other end of the bar turns my attention.
“Of course,” I hear Klaus mutter. 
I hold up one finger to the customer and then turn back to Klaus.
Klaus nods, “Go, love. I’ll be here waiting.”
I let out a deep sigh as I finished dealing with a rush of customers. Normally when dealing with drunk people my anxiety level is only at 100 but with the everlasting stare I felt from Klaus the entire time my anxiety is now at a whopping 100,000.
“Do you need a refill,” I finally make my way over to Klaus who hasn't moved from his chair. 
“I’m alright, Love,” The side of his lip twitches as he looks at me, “I do wonder though why get a job working as a bartender when it’s clear how much you loathe drunk people.”
I bring my hand up to my neck and rub out the tension. Klaus's eyes follow my movement and his normal bright blue seems to darken. 
“I um… Don’t usually work as a bartender. But, someone called in sick so I covered for them.”
Klaus’ eyes make their way back up to my face and he nods in understanding.
“When do you get off?”
I glance down at the watch on my wrist and sigh, “Thankfully, only 30 more minutes.”
Klaus seems to be happy with my response.
“Great. What are you doing after this?”
I narrow my eyes at the hybrid, “Why do you ask?”
Klaus's lips morph into a smirk and he leans back and shrugs his shoulders, “Asking for a friend.’’
I let out a small laugh, “Right, of course. Because as I know you have so many of those.”
Klaus’ eyes narrow at my jab and I laugh again. 
“Tell your friend that I have a date.”
Klaus’ smirk drops. 
“Who?”
Klaus’ instant change in attitude startles me. Long gone is his casual demeanor, now replaced by something darker. 
“What?”
At my question, Klaus leans in and practically glares at me, “Who is your date?”
I try not to let Klaus’ attitude freak me out as I lean into him so our faces are a few inches apart, “The leftover lasagna I have in my freezer at home.”
Klaus’ face instantly morphs into annoyance, “Are you serious right now?”
I shrug, “I never joke about pasta.”
Klaus runs a hand over his face, “Y/n…careful.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, “Why?”
Klaus takes his hand away from his face and instead brings it up to run a finger along my jawline. I inhale an involuntary breath as he watches me with a dark gleam in his eyes. 
“You need to be careful because if I ever do find out you were to go on a date with another man,” My breath comes out shallow as he leans in so close our noses are practically touching, “I’d find him…rip all of his limbs off and then,” His eyes trail down to my lips, “I’d ravage you in his blood. So every time after that, every time a man even glances your way…all you’ll be able to think about is the feeling of me on top of you.”
I let out a squeak. A fucking squeak. 
I can’t seem to find my words, which only seems to please Klaus.
“You…you,” I try to shove away any unwanted thoughts as I look a the man before me, “You’re not allowed to get jealous…we’re not even together. Like I talked with Elijah about, we’re going to be just friends for right now.”
Klaus lets out a loud laugh.
“Friends?!”
I furrow my brows at the tone in his voice.
“Y/n love,” Klaus meets my eye, “My brother may try to fool you and himself with that silly notion, but know this…you and I,” He points from himself to me, “Will never be just friends. Friends don’t think of each other the way you and I think of one another.”
I shake my head in denial, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Klaus tilts his head, “No? So that death glare you were sending your blood friend while she was trying to get my attention was nothing?”
God, I don’t know if I want to punch him or kiss him.
“Just to let you know though, you have no reason to be jealous. No other woman could sway my gaze away from my little muse.”
I feel my face heat at his confession and I open my mouth to try to deny him again but a piercing pain makes me release a loud gasp. 
I feel my knees buckle as I clutch my heart.
“Y/n!” I think I can hear Klaus’ frantic voice but with the searing pain, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything.
I’m soon enveloped in a warm embrace as I feel hands go under my arms and my knees, bringing me into a bridal-style pose. 
“I’ve got you, Love.”
I try to focus on the warmth of Klaus instead of my chest, but it’s kind of hard when it hurts like a motherfucker. 
A rush of cold air hits my face, and I think we must be outside now. 
“I’ve got to set you down for a moment, my love. I’ve got to go kill your friends momentarily.”
I try to open my eyes when I feel myself being placed on cold ground and I think I can see Stefan and Damon fighting with Klaus. 
After a moment I feel a weight being lifted off my chest and I no longer feel the stabbing pain. Thank fuck. 
“I should’ve killed you months ago,” I lift my head to see Klaus standing in front of me protectively and Stefan and Damon a few feet away from him looking disheveled. I lock eyes with Damon, and his eyes narrow as he looks at me for a moment before turning back toward Klaus. 
“Do it. That’s not gonna stop Esther from killing you.”
The fuck?
“What did you say about my mother?”
I watch with bated breath as Klaus stalks toward the eldest Salvatore.
“You didn’t know I was friends with your mummy? Yeah, we have a lot in common. She hates you as much as I do.”
“Demon, you fucking idiot,” I cough out, as I try to sit up against the stone wall. 
Klaus rushes towards him but is stopped by the sound of Elijah’s voice. 
Yay, Lijah. 
“Leave him!”
Klaus, Damon, and I, both turn to look up the stone staircase where Elijah stands. 
“We still need him, Niklaus.”
Klaus takes a step closer to his brother, “What did mother do? What did she do, Elijah?”
Elijah starts walking down the stairs and as he gets to the bottom step he unbuttons his jacket and takes it off. 
Why is this dude stripping right now?
“You’re shaking,” Elijah’s eyes meet mine and he reaches out his jacket for me to take. The cold look he had on his face, moments ago is gone and replaced with a sorrowful look as he gives me a once-over.
Oh. He's being chivalrous and here I’m calling him a stripper. My bad.
I reach out a hand, and as I catch a glimpse of its shaking I now just realize how right Elijah is. I try to muster up a small smile of thanks as I grab the jacket from him and place it over my shoulders. Elijah nods once before turning back and striding over the Damon.
“You tell me where the witches are or I’ll have my sister kill Elena right now.”
“What?!”
I feel my heart drop in my stomach at Elijah’s words and I push on the wall to stand up on wobbly legs. 
“Elijah, what the hell are you talking about?!” For the very first time since meeting him, Elijah ignores me. 
“You told me we had until after 9,” Damon says and I shake my head in confusion. 
“I’m sure Rebekah would be more than happy to start her work early.’’
Elijah’s words send waves of fear through me. 
A look of fear comes over Damon's face and he tries to rush past Elijah but Elijah halts him with a hand to his chest.
“And one last thing you should know. I see you have procured a center fondness for Y/n,” At Elijah’s comment Damon’s eyes meet mine, “As you may or may not know Y/n is my soulmate. As well as my brothers. With that being said if either one of us were to die…Y/n would shortly follow. Just thought you should know.”
Tears begin welling in my eyes as I watch Elijah. Damon looks at Elijah and Klaus, to see if either one of them is bluffing but when looking at both of their grim expressions he clenches his jaw. Damon pushes past Elijah, grabs Stefan, and begins to walk up the stairs. He stops though, momentarily and turns to look over his shoulder. We lock eyes and after a moment he shakes his head harshly and speeds away with his brother. 
Tears stream down my face as I stare at the spot Damon was in only moments ago. 
“Elskan,” Elijah’s soft voice comes from beside me and I flinch.
I take 3 large steps away and I stare wide-eyed at him.
“Do NOT come near me,” I raise an accusing finger at him and shrug off his coat from my shoulders. 
“Elskan, please you don’t understand,” Elijah raises his hands and tries to step closer to me but takes another step away. He frowns at my movement but still stops moving. 
“Understand what, Elijah!? That you’re threatening to kill my best friend?! Or that you’re using me as fucking leverage!”
It’s Elijah’s turn to flinch as I muster whatever strength I have left to yell at him. 
“Elena is innocent! And I thought you were better than this to use my a fucking leverage against my friends!”
Elijah shakes his head, “You’re so-called innocent friend made a deal with my mother to rid my entire family of this earth.”
I shake my head in denial but Elijah continues. 
“I asked Miss. Gilbert to be honest with me and she lied straight to my face. She was willing to let my entire family die, Y/n. But, I’m not. Especially when it means that you will also perish.”
“Elena would never do anything to hurt me,” I shake my head a wipe away the tears flowing down my face. 
“Exactly… that is why I told Damon what would happen to you if my siblings and I were to die.”
Elijah begins to take another step toward me but he is interfered by Klaus.
A snarl leaves Elijah’s lips and I back up to the point where my back is now pressed into the wall. 
“Give her space, brother,” I hear Klaus. Klaus turns over his shoulder to look at my quivering form and I see Elijah’s angry expression hinder as he looks at me. 
“What the bloody hell happened?”
I whip around with teary eyes to see a groaning Kol, walk down the steps, with a look of anger on his face. 
He looks at his brothers but when they don’t give him the time of day, he turns to me. His angry expression dims into confusion when he notices my tear-stained face. 
“Which one of you did this?”
I’m shocked by the angry tone Kol directs at his brothers. 
“Not now Kol,” Elijah glares at his younger brother, who glares back at him. 
“Am I going to die tonight?” My quiet voice catches all three men’s attention and they turn to me. 
“I won’t let that happen, love,” Klaus takes a step towards me but I move around him and find myself standing behind Kol. 
Klaus seems hurt by my action but I honestly don’t give a flying fuck right now.
“What will happen to Theo if I die,” I feel my chest hurt as I mutter to myself. My body begins to shake and I blink rapidly as my vision goes in and out. I try to catch my breath but I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Oh God, I’m suffocating. 
Warm hands press themselves to my face and I think I can hear Klaus’ voice through the ringing that is going through my head. Klaus’ voice is gone though as the ringing in my head gets louder and my breaths get shorter. 
My breathing completely halts as a weight presses itself onto my lips.
I open my eyes and realize that Klaus is pressing his lips to mine. Again. 
I’m practically knocked out of the panic attack I was in as I back away quickly from Klaus who watches my every move. 
My eyes fling from Klaus to Kol who is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, and then I look to Elijah who now won’t meet my eye. 
“Well, now that that is done…I’d like very much to not die today so let’s get this show on the road.”
I look towards Kol who eyes me for a moment before wrapping me under his arm and begins walking me up the stairs. 
I go to take a step but my knees buckle and I begin to fall. 
Thankfully, Kol wraps his arm around my waist and uses his strength to pretty much carry me up the stairs, “Don’t worry love. I’ve got you.”
I look up at him and find myself beginning to tear up again, “Thank you.”
Kol looks down at me and something shifts in his eyes momentarily before he looks forward and smirks, “What are friends for?”
—-
I’m now trudging through a cold, windy ass forest to go stop my soulmate's deranged mother from killing us all. Fantastic. Fuck I’m hungry. 
Klaus, Elijah, and Kol walk ahead of me a few paces as I trudge behind. Kol offered to carry me the way but not wanting to feel like a damsel I denied him. Now as my aching muscles scream at me, I regret it. 
Thankfully, I warm orange light can be seen from up ahead.
Elijah stops and turns to me, “You should stay here. We’ll handle this.”
I glare at Elijah and walk past him and the other two men, “Ya, because you three have been so good at handling things so far,” I spit. 
I try to forget the pain as I march towards the open center of the woods where Esther stands with Finn in a circle of fire and salt. 
Sigmund Freud, you would’ve loved these two.
Elijah comes to stand on my right, Klaus on my left and Kol walks behind them to stand right beside Klaus. 
“My sons, come forward,” Esther says, and god I’ve never wanted to throw a punch at a woman more in my entire life. 
“Stay beside me,” Finn puts his hand out to his mother and I frown at him. 
“It’s okay. They can’t enter.”
“Ya, so why don’t you stop hiding behind your magic and come over here bitch,” I bite at her and I hear Kol snigger. 
“Ah, yes. I’m afraid we haven’t properly met, my dear. I do want you to know I don’t blame you for your anger. I am incredibly sorry that fate has put you with my sons.”
The flames around Esther and Finn engulf and I feel the warmth spread across my cold face. I feel a slight tug on my elbow and Klaus and Elijah come to stand in front of me. 
“Go fuck yourself, Esther.”
“That’s lovely,” Kol says as he looks at the flames, “We’re stuck out here while the favorite son plays sacrificial lamb. How pathetic you are, Finn.”
“Be quiet, Kol,” Esther stops him, “Your brother knows virtue you cannot even imagine.”
“Whatever you think of us killing your own children would be an atrocity.”
Esther shakes her head at Elijah’s words.
“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”
“Enough,” Klaus exhausts, “All this talk is boring me. End this now, Mother or I’ll send you back to hell.”
A smirk comes onto my face at Klaus’ words. 
“For a thousand years I’ve been forced to watch you; felt the pain of every victim; suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility you’re not better. All of you you’re a curse on this Earth stretched out over generations. If you’ve come to plead for your life I’m sorry. You’ve wasted your time.”
“And what of Y/n,” The mention of my name has me looking at Elijah who points his finger at me, “A girl who is nothing but caring, pure, and good of heart. And yet what? You burden her with death. She does not deserve this mother. She is good… I am asking you…do not harm the woman I love.”
Elijah’s eyes lock with mine and the emotions hidden in them pull something in me I didn’t know existed. 
“Yes, she is innocent. But for how long? How long before your promised immortality results in her death or her transition into a monster like you all? Fate has already given his girl the hand of death. It is better I give her the mercy of a quick one now.”
A wave of anger I’ve never felt before exudes me as I push past Klaus and Elijah and stand at the ring of salt, heat from the fire be damned. 
“You are unbelievable!”
“Excuse me?”
“You sit on your high horse hiding behind your poor son, while you degrade and belittle your other children! Instead of loving them for their faults, you have condemned them to think of themselves as nothing more than monsters. Yes, they have lived a thousand years, and yes they have spilled blood! But who the fuck wouldn’t!? I haven’t known any of them very long but I am sure that these so-called monsters you see as your children are not the people I see before me right now,” I point to Finn who watches me with a cold expression, “Finn for example follows you dutifully because that’s all he knows! It is all he’s been allowed to know! You pushed this idea that he and his siblings are all monsters who deserve nothing and yet here he stands ready to die at your altar for your approval! Finn was betrayed by his siblings for almost a thousand years and when he’s finally awoken I bet you just jumped at the fact that he would cling to the first sign of care and love anyone would show him, didn’t you,” I accuse the glaring woman in front of me and I look as Finn’s gaze turns to his mother, “A woman trying to sacrifice her own son isn’t what he needed Esther, he needed a mother. And what about Kol,” I whip around and point at the boy next to me, “Yes, I’ve only known him two days and he’s already a pain in my ass, but even in those two days he’s shown me more care than my own father or mother have ever shown me! And Klaus…,” I stop and make eye contact with Klaus who is watching me with an unreadable expression, “God…Esther, you are a pathetic excuse for a woman and mother. How many times did you excuse Mikael’s behavior? When Klaus came crying to you in pain, how many times did you just patch him up and then wait with bated breath until the next time he came to you needing help again? I have a mother like you, you know. And I love her because she’s my mother…but I also hate the ground she walks on because she’s an idiotic woman who was too scared to leave a man who caused nothing but pain for her children. And after all of that, you criticize Elijah’s attempts at being a better person?! You just went on and on about them being monsters but the second one of them tries to change you disparage him? Right now I’m pissed off at Elijah, but even though I am that doesn’t stop me from thinking that he is one of the best people I have ever met in my 18 years of life. Before I met him, I was nothing,” I say and I can see my vision start to blur with tears, “I was a quiet girl who nobody cared for. I woke each day waiting for life to be done with me, just as I was done with it. But then…,” I look to Elijah whose eyes are filled with nothing but pure devotion, “I met a man who did something I never thought anyone would ever be able to do…breathe. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t holding my breath around everyone. The day I met Elijah everything changed for me. Meeting him was the best day of my life…and also the first day I truly started living. So don’t you dare for a second blame your mistakes on them! You made your bed now fucking lie in it, Esther.”
 Esther’s glare is harsh but nothing could sway the rage that flows through my body as I stare at the bitch in front of me. 
Esther’s glare instantly shifts into fear and I am pulled back by Kol as the flames around the circle begin to flicker. 
“No! Sisters, do not abandon me!”
Esther’s yells are useless as the flames around us flare up and Kol covers my body with his own. After another moment the heat of the flames is gone.
I glance up at Kol and send him a smile and he nods.
Klaus, Elijah, Kol, and I stand together as we look at the unlit circle where I stone-faced Finn and a frightened Esther stand.
“Finn,” Esther grabs her son's arm, “We must leave now.”
Finn looks down at his mother and then his gaze falls onto me. 
“You’re your own person Finn. Peculiar…but still,” I smile at him and his chest puffs out. 
Finn shrugs out his mother’s hold and shakes his head at her. 
“Finn, what are you doing?”
I feel a sick smirk come onto my face as I look at Esther’s scared expression. 
“I have lived for a thousand years mother, and yet I have spent none of those feeling alive. I think I deserve the chance to.”
I can’t help the giant smile that I feel across my face at Finn’s words. Hell ya, brother!
“Finn you have no idea what you’re talking about! Don’t let this insolent little harlot,” She gestures to me wildly, “Sway you from the plan!”
A flash of motion catches my eye and I let out a yelp as I watch Esther’s head get swiped off her body. 
Elijah stands before his mother’s dead body with a grim expression on his face, “No one is allowed to insult, Y/n. Not even you, mother.”
I blink as I stare at Esther’s decapitated body. 
“Well, mommy dearest is dead again.”
I look up to Kol whose attention goes from his mother’s body to Finn.
“You absolute fool,” Kol bites at Finn, and all three brothers turn to glare at the eldest Mikaelson.
Without thinking I rush in front of Finn and put a hand out stopping his brothers. 
“Off limits!”
“Excuse me?!”
Kol stares wildly at me as if I have three heads. 
“Yep. Just like you and me kol, Finn and I also have our own deal,” I look back towards Finn who looks at me confused before nodding along, “So if you dagger him, I’ll never speak to the three of you again.”
“I can live with that,” Kol mutters not taking his eyes off Finn.
“That’s fine…then that means our deal no longer stands, ankle biter. Tell me,” I smirk at Kol, “How many moth balls does that coffin of yours collect a year?”
Kol turns his glare from his brother to me, but I hold it. 
“If anything I think you all owe Finn an apology. I mean Kol you’re pissed off for being daggered away for a hundred years, and yet you hold no sympathy for your brother who was daggered for ten times that?!”
Kol glare drops slightly as he thinks for a moment before rolling his eyes. 
“I take it back…I wouldn’t want to be your mate.”
“Right back at you.”
With one final look at his brother, Kol speeds off into the dark forest. 
My attention goes to Elijah and Klaus and I raise an eyebrow in challenge at them. 
“What’s it going to be, boys?”
Elijah’s eyes don’t leave mine as he addresses his eldest brother, “Leave Finn.”
“Thank you, Y/n,” I hear Finn whisper to me before he also speeds off into the night.
I look a the two men before me and let out a shaky breath. 
“Soooooooo…..”
“Did you mean what you said?”
I look at Elijah, “That I’m pissed off at you…yes.”
Elijah shakes his head, “Y/n…”
I rub a hand down my face and nod, “Yes. Every word.”
I don’t have time for my hand to move away from my face when I feel two strong arms wrap themselves around me in an embrace. 
I release a shaky breath as I feel Elijah use one hand to grip my waist and the other to hold the back of my head. 
I know I’m not much of a hugger…but damn this feels nice. 
“Thank you.”
Elijah’s soft voice makes me almost forget I’m mad at him…almost. 
“You’re welcome. But, I’m still pissed at you.”
“I know, Elskan,” Elijah says as he leans back and runs a hand through my hair, getting it out of my face. 
A cough interrupts us and I glance over Elijah’s shoulder to Klaus who is watching us with a glare. 
I step away from Elijah, who grunts in disapproval. 
“So, I’m glad we didn’t die. That’s cool.”
Silence.
“Okay…well I’m starving and your mother’s decapitated head is right by my left foot soooooo….can we leave?”
—-
Klaus and I walk silently up the staircase to my front door. Elijah had left us earlier to go tell Rebekah about their mother. 
When Klaus and I get to my door, I wait for him to say something, but sigh when all he does is stare at the door. 
“Ok…Night,” I reach for the handle and begin to turn it when Klaus's hand grabs mine. I turn to look at him in question but before I can even blink I’m being tagged forward into Klaus’ embrace and his lips are attacking mine. It only takes my body a moment to catch on and before I realize what I’m doing I’m kissing him back. This seems to be the approval Klaus needed because he used his hand to grab my waist to pull my flush against his chest and his other hand to grip the back of my neck so I couldn’t move…not that I wanted to. I try to fight for dominance but that is quickly stopped when Klaus bites harshly into my bottom lip, making me exhale. This gives Klaus an opening as his tongue enters my mouth and begins fighting for dominance against my own. An involuntary moan escapes my lips at the feeling and Klaus releases a growl at the noise. 
Klaus releases my mouth as we both catch our breaths.
My eyes widen as I see that Klaus’ once blue eyes are now a bright gold, with dark veins under them. Without thinking I reach a hand up and cup his face, and using my thumb I trace the veins. 
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I whip around to see Theo wrapped in his fluffy robe with his phone to his ear glaring at Klaus and I, “I’ll have to call you back Jerebaby. My sister’s making out with a serial killer.”
Theo ends the call, stomps out of the house, and puts his hands on his hips sending glares to both Klaus and me. 
“Seriously?! Young lady, in the house now!”
I raise an eyebrow at Theo and he does the exact same.
I turn to say goodbye, or really anything to Klaus but Theo stops me.
“NUH-UH HOUSE NOW!”
I roll my eyes and with a huff, I stomp inside. 
Theo slams the door shut behind us and I whip around to him.
“Seriously, Theodore!?”
“Room now,” Theo yells and I glare at him.
“I’m older than you Theo, you can’t ground me.”
“Well, as the man of this house, I am.”
“You’re wearing a blue fluffy robe with bunny rabbits on it,” I deadpan as I look at my brother’s attire.
“AND?! ROOM NOW! We shall talk about this in the morning!”
I blink once at my brother before shaking my head and trudging over to my room. 
After taking a VERY cold shower I finally get to settle down with my lasagna. 
“Hello, Elskan.”
FUCKING SERIOUSLY
I whip around on my bed to see Elijah, who just magically appeared in the corner of my room. Yay. 
“Ya, hi, Elijah. No offense but I haven’t eaten anything at all today and almost getting killed by a one thousand-year-old witch really does something to the stomach. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat while you say whatever it is you’re going to say.”
I huff and then stuff a forkful of pasta into my mouth. 
“Of course, Elskan. Please don’t starve yourself. I’ll say my peace and then leave you.”
I hum to him as I pick a huge piece of pasta up with my fork and shove it into my mouth. 
“I am leaving Mystic Falls.”
I feel my lasagna lodge in my throat as I inhale.
I clutch my throat as I feel myself choking and try to cough up my food.
“Y/n!”
Elijah runs to my side and hits my back and I spit out the chunk of pasta onto my plate. 
With a shaky breath, I look up to Elijah who is staring at me, wide-eyed, “What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?!”
Elijah shakes his head, “Are you alright?” I glare at him, “Elijah answer my question.”
Elijah eyes me for a moment before shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. He walks back over to the corner of my room and places himself on my desk chair. 
“I am leaving.”
I blink, “Ya… I got that.”
Elijah sighs, “What I did today was unforgivable. I went against my moral code and hurt not just you, but your friend. I betrayed your trust and threatened an innocent girl's life. I can never forgive myself. That is why I must leave. My siblings will stay here to make sure you stay safe, but…me being around will only cause more pain.”
“Are you serious?”
Elijah picks up his head to meet my glare. 
With a huff, I put my pasta, which is now cold, onto my side table, and stand up. With my hands on my hips, I walk over to Elijah and stand before his seated figure.  
“Elijah you are a grown man, act like it.”
Elijah’s eyes narrow at my words, “Excuse me?”
“You talk a big game about taking accountability but right now, that is the farthest thing from what you are doing. You made a mess, clean it up. Don’t run away just because you’re scared of the repercussions.”
Elijah stands up, and I inhale when I realize just how close we are now.
“I am not scared,” Elijah’s low voice sends shivers down my spine as he leans down to meet my eye level. 
I puff out my chest, “Is that so? Because all I see right now is a man who doesn’t go for anything he wants. Who is just letting everyone walk all over him. Elijah…you fucked up. But, running away is not going to change that. Own your mistakes, don’t hide from them.” 
Elijah’s nostrils flare slightly and he raises an eyebrow, “You think I don’t go for what I want?”
The challenge in his voice makes a warmth flow throughout my body, “Yes…”
As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Elijah raises his hand and grips my throat pulling me into him. A startled gasp leaves my throat but it is quickly muted by the pressure of Elijah’s lip on my own. My mind seems to be working a mile a minute as I try to understand everything that is happening right now. Elijah is kissing me. Kissing me. Elijah is kissing me, while his hand is wrapped around my throat. 
Kinky.
No, Y/n. Shut up. 
As soon as I start to piece together everything, the pressure of Elijah’s mouth and his hand are gone. I blink as I see Elijah look almost hurt. 
“You didn’t like that…I’m so sorry Elskan. I’ll go.”
Elijah’s words make me highly confused because I indeed liked what he just did.
“Why do you think I didn’t like it?”
Elijah’s eyebrows furrow, “You were distracted. I felt it. And you…,” He pauses and I see his cheeks turn a light pink. He’s nervous, “You didn’t kiss me back.”
Seeing Elijah’s hurt expression, mixed with his tinted cheeks pulls something out of me, and before I can stop myself I grab his tie and drag him over to me. As soon as he’s a few inches away I slam my lips onto his. 
A shocked grunt escapes his throat and then a moment later he’s grabbing both of my cheeks and pulling my face flush against his. Just like with Klaus, I try to fight for dominance but that is short-lived with the intense pressure Elijah is kissing me with. 
After a dizzying few minutes, Elijah unlocks our lips and rests his forehead against mine and I can’t stop the giggle that leaves me. 
“Friends definitely don’t do that.”
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pedgito · 2 months ago
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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑 | Marcus Acacius x f!reader
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summary | A female gladiator plucked from the arena by the most powerful general in Rome, convinced to serve under his command. You learn that his taste for blood might not be so different from your own.
author's note | the horny demons strike again. this has a little plot, thanks to the beautiful minds of @ovaryacted and @kedsandtubesocks who deal with my crazy so generously.
content warning | 18+ mdni, set pre-gladiator ii, description of war & mistreatment of women in roman society, female gladiator, dark-ish!acacius, reader has minimal backstory, but is revealed to be nameless (uses monikers given to her: medusa, fury, minerva), fighting, m*rder, blood tw, gore tw, sa warning (i have it annotated further below with content, but nothing graphic) acacius covered in someone elses blood as he fucks you, copious smut, biting as a little treat
word count — 8k
“How much?” Acacius inquires, tapping his finger against the iron bars holding you prisoner, staring back at the men. The ginger twins and a man—no, a general. Dressed in a toga of thick material, embroidered with intricate designs, gold bangles at his wrist, a telltale sign of high honor. 
“Oh, she is…” The older one, Geta, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he shakes his head, “priceless—quite the fighter, too.”
“Does she have a name?” 
Geta smirks to himself, “They call her Medusa. She favors beheading, it seems.” Geta waggles a finger through the bars and smirks, nose scrunching as he addresses you, “Correct?” 
You ignore him, responding with a stare—much like your given moniker; if looks could kill.
“She’s bested them all,” Caracalla boasts from beside his brother, Dundus fiddling with his hair from where she was perched on his shoulder, “even our lion that we’ve had since kids.”
“It was a stupid idea, your fault,” Geta retorts, “but—again, she’s not for sale.”
“I’ll conquer India within the next few nightfalls, a handful of new gladiators fresh for the choosing, for your entertainment—how does that sound?”
Greedy as they were and entirely too incompetent, Caracalla agrees before his brother can open his mouth. 
“Will you bring her back to visit?” Caracalla inquires with an underlying excitement—the poor brother was nothing but a dunce, erratic and impulsive, but all too easy to manipulate. “The others may miss her.”
“Indeed,” Another swift but convincing lie, Caracalla and Acacius shake hands on the deal before Geta can retort, fuming with rage as he stomps away.
He’d taken a liking to your fighting style despite his distaste for the arena. Strategic and skilled, brute strength and a drive that was built around pure survival but somehow all while maintaining the perfect amount of gracefulness that men did not. Constant calculation, finesse, it was like an art.
He’s gone through several guards over his rule, some from sacrifice but others out of pure ignorance. He needed a strong base, malleable but resistant. He could shape you into a leader, he thinks. He knows.
Your hard stare is like ice as the keys jingle into the lock, a defining click a resounding echo of freedom and General Acacius extends his palm.
A gesture of freedom, a new life, trepidation fills you despite your yearn for a way out of this prison. Here it was, served up on a platter covered in intricate facets of white and gold, stubble brushing his cheeks and soft brown eyes offering kindness.
This was not a man of sheer violence, not the tales they tell about him—this was a man of trouble, conflict, and an instinct to protect himself. And he’d chosen you.
Your hands slips into his, a similar roughness to match his own and scars that Acacius knew well enough of—you were a true fighter, a warrior.
The two boys—calling the men would be too easy, they often acted like spoiled children, were already off to their own chambers, and Acacius had only dropped his hard facade slightly, still under the watchful eye of Rome’s guards, he led you onto your new life.
-
“I cannot accept,” You argue, as respectful as you could manage, hands crossed firmly over your front, near your waist as you spoke to General Acacius in his private office at home, a place few have stepped foot into, but yet somehow, again, you were given a free pass.
“Are you refusing my order?” Acacius counters, there’s pillowyness to his tone, almost taunting.
“Sir—er, General,” It was all new to you, formalities, structure, rules, “I…am a woman.”
“I am not blind,” Acacius squints his eyes slightly, before leaning back in the creaky chair, “my men—they will not question my choices. They listen, they do their duties. They need strong leadership. Gladiator, I believe you can bestow that upon them.”
“I am a stranger to you, you know nothing of me,” You tell him, a full truth, “General, I fear you may have made the wrong decision, I am not what you think I—”
Silently, Acacius fingers curl around the handle to a drawer hidden behind his desk, pulling out a sharp knife with a handle carved of bone, twisting it in his grip before he’s rearing his arm back, throwing it in your direction.
It zips by with force, the tip of the knife snagging and burying itself deep into the wall behind you, your head whipping to the side to follow it, the sharp blade barely missing the skin of your ear. 
Quick reflexes. You turn back to a smirking Acacius.
“I am positive, had I thrown that between your eyes you would have caught it without overthinking the consequences—most of my men would do the same,” Acacius lectures, standing with his brutish frame and walking toward the wall, the soft flow of a breeze kissing at your fists.
“Though, I have another proposition,” Acacius says lightly, twisting the knife in his hand, the pointing spinning against his fingertip as he circles around you, “—attack me.”
“Sir,” You argue, “that surely defeats the purpose of—”
His fist balls up tight and aims for your side. Acacius sees it, the anticipation as you block his hand. He chuckles underneath his breath, “Please, continue,” He teases, twisting out of your grip to pull another punch that you block with ease—he was going easy, you think.
Natural reaction takes hold and his test quickly turns into a full-out brawl, twisting and slipping underneath his grip until you have him pinned against a nearby wall, teeth bared with his forearm pressed against his throat, struggling to grip his free arm.
The real test is here, as Acacius bares the knife near your neck, an immediate reaction to protect yourself rather than go for the kill shot, knowing that anyone of normal skill would be too full of bloodlust to think of anything other than killing you. Protection and defense came first, taking the small nick of a cut to your own forearm before you’re knocking the knife out of his hand and wrestling him to the ground with a swift kick to his leg, rendering him helpless.
“Indeed, you are exactly what I think you are,” Acacius says with finality, “I want you to lead my personal guard. Whatever it is I must do to obtain that, my lady I will do—riches, bribery—”
You push away from him with a heavy exhale, standing and adjusting your clothes, brushing your hair away from your face, “No need, I will do it.”
Acacius rolls to his back, hand extending once more. 
This time, it is you offering the help as he uses the leverage to rise to his feet before speaking to you with a triumphant tone. 
“Commander,” He grins, “let us plan.”
He often asks of your lineage, your home. But, there is nothing to offer. A long conquered piece of land now under the rule of Rome and a home that was never a home. An orphan you had always been, nameless, taking greedily whatever name was bestowed upon you. 
In the arena it was Medusa, the tale of a vicious woman with god-like power. Caracalla had told you of the story, the boys having taken a liking to you in different ways. Geta was fiendish, hungry, often seeking you out for his own pleasure to which you wouldn’t deny. Couldn’t. He could be rough, but he wasn’t.
He seemed lonely, the poor boy.
Carcalla was only searching for a friend despite his unruly, chaotic nature. When he wasn’t ruling with tyranny over Rome, terrorizing the townspeople, he was telling you stories.
Other times it was only she. Or her. Or just girl. The girl.
You were only what people assumed of you, expected you to be.
“Medusa, ay?” A greasy looking man confirms, one of the six men who were to be under your command, “The gladiator?”
“You will respect her,” General Acacius had warned them, “or an apology will be your dying breath.”
It had struck most of them with fear. Most of them.
And for many nights, countless, it seems—the transition of leadership was smooth. You had an unyielding grip on them, awaiting direction, following your orders. It was the kind of rush most would only dream of, and as a woman, it was an unforeseen privilege. 
“They address you as Medusa, too,” Acacius notes during a roundtable session as the other men wander off for dinner, “do you wish for them to address you differently?”
“I have no name, General,” You admit, “I am whatever I must be. If they think of me as so, that is what I am. Though, I would love to turn a few of them into stone, given I was granted her powers.”
“I believe you could manage that feat without them,” Acacius jokes, “—but, nameless? Even at birth?”
“I know nothing of my birth parents. They told me I was found wrapped in cloth under the bridge that led into the town your army eventually turned to rubble,” A bittersweet feeling, speaking unusually out of term, facing him with the facts, “though, it does not matter. I enjoy the fear they have of me, keeps wandering hands at bay.”
Such an enigma, Acacius eyes you curiously. It was the most you’ve opened up to him since retrieving you from your cell, and even then, still forcing him to face the consequences of war.
The guilt followed him at every waking moment.
“Do you need anything further of me, General?” You ask politely, “You have spoiled my appetite as of late and your men are greedy with the stew.”
“You are dismissed,” He speaks distantly, turning over the thick, coarse paper with a drawn out map of the territory they were to invade soon, a lingering well wish leaving his lips, “sleep well, commander.”
Unfortunately, you’ve turned to sleeping with a knife under your bedroll—with a lingering ache of betrayal, you weren’t allowing yourself to lower your guard.
-
The attacks do not start at night. Rather during the day, when the General is off and away, scouting ahead further when half of his army while the other half sticks at camp, keeping claim.
That is when the insults come, the disbelief, the mockery.
Most of his men settled with the idea, having accepted your position even if it displeased them. 
But, there was one. Like a bull—hardheaded and stocky, fists and arms like clubs, testosterone radiating from his body in crashing waves. He wants you to fear him, submit to him. 
You feel it. You see it. And you’ve been through it before, other large and brutish gladiators thinking with their muscles rather than their brains. It wouldn’t take long for them to meet their demise, but this one was…different.
He approaches you with a smile than anyone could see right through, a finger brushing your cheek as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in to brush his lips against the shell of it.
“They are hungry,” He drips of vicious intention, “—I say, you give us a show. Entertain us, Medusa.”
Your eyes snap to him, staring him down.
“Pitiful Acacius isn’t here to save you,” He warns, “though, I have reason to believe he is as weak as most men—spread your legs and he’ll be begging for a taste, too.”
“I will gut you where you stand,” You warn, reaching for the thick machete at your waist, “you’re like a pig. Brainless and greedy for whatever you can get. Touch me, I dare you.”
The rest of the men are relatively quiet, but they do not stop him. Smirks and half-smiles hidden behind their cups, lounging on a log near their tents, enjoying the entertainment. 
It was nightfall, the fire crackling between you and them, a towering presence at your backside.
And as he dares to, his hand slides up your waist. 
Without hesitation you flip the weapon in your grip, grabbing at his wrist and slicing at his arm—a featherlight touch, it was merrily a glorified papercut, but his eyes widened in shock.
“Let us see how well you touch without fingers,” You threaten, flipping the machete until it is pointing in his face, death grip on the handle if he dared to take it, taunting him with the sharp end of your blade, “hands?”
That deep, rumbling sound of hooves approaches through the darkness, everyone slowly falling back into their paces as you welcome back your General with a forced smile.
Acacius hands off the reins to another rider, taking scope of the situation that seemed to be defusing in front of him, but still—he notices. His eyes trade glances between you both before he nods at you to follow him.
Speaking under his breath, “The others have coined you as fury,” He laughs softly at the pseudonym, “little fury, they tell me. Like the Furies. I cannot say I disagree with them. Has he been pestering you long?”
Your brow furrows at the reference, lost on your ill-informed mind.
“Long enough,” You answer honestly, “though, he was bestowed a parting gift this time.”
You raise your blade, his blood still painting the weapon.
He raises the curtain to his tent, allowing you to enter before him.
“Do you know nothing of the Furies?”
“I was not privy to bedtime tales, General.”
He nods, thoughtful as his lips pull together in a thin line, slowly removing his armor as he sits, directing for you to take a seat opposite of him, a few feet away on a decaying stump.
“Goddesses,” He states simply, “of vengeance, striking the wicked down. You have…fire, deep within you. Do not let them put it out, it is your weapon.”
You nod obediently, feeling the humidity stick to your skin, clothes glued to your body as you sit in the uncomfortable heat. There was no world in which you felt safe enough to strip down, quell your body of this unbearable summer weather. You would rather suffer, thick garb covering your body.
Acacius tilts his head, but does not comment.
“I require your protection tomorrow, we must scout an additional day and I fear danger is imminent—relay this to them,” He instructs, “and my lady, if you fear they will visit you at night, that they might strike when you’re vulnerable, you are welcome here.”
He already anticipates your response—he knows, but the gesture was an offer. A kindness. 
“If they try, you will be searching for new men by sunrise, General.”
Acacius smirks in amusement, nodding to your words.
“It would not be difficult to replace them,” He notes, “though, little fury, you are irreplaceable.” 
-
General Acacius wasn’t an easy man to protect, but you managed. Over the few weeks that you had taken point within his guard it has leant you plenty of opportunities to prove your worth, slaughtering opposing soldiers like cattle for the glory of Rome, his booming voice pronouncing vie victis as the dead are laid rest under fire and smoke.
But, conflict comes when you are faced with a decision as the camp was raided under complete, utter darkness. It was your shift to guard the General, perched outside of his tent with constant, roaming eyes. Eventually, you drift. It was peaceful, nature taking hold and pulling you under, awoken to the sound of blood curdling screams, the ground painted with the innards of both Acacius’ men and the others.
You were forced with a choice—defend the camp, something Acacius would have told you to do in a moment of desperation, a self-sacrificing man himself. Ironic, given your position, that you even think otherwise. Of course, your feet pull you toward him, whipping the flowing fabric of his tent door back.
There was a knife at his neck, a man towering over him. He’d snuck past—taken advantage of your exhaustion and your mistake was putting the General’s life at risk, his face stoic as he pushed back against the blade with his palm.
Without thinking, you rush toward the man, pulling back at his collar to plunge the knife pointed at Acacius into his own throat, a silent death through the notch of his neck, the blood flowing out like a river, tossing the lifeless man to the side before you’re reaching for your General.
“Do not worry,” He assures you as he rises, still groggy from sleep, “go—protect our camp.”
“But, General,” You plead, not realizing that your hand was grasping on his own, or that he had initiated the touch as a gentle push, a confirmation that he was truly alright, “it is my fault.”
His eyes peer behind you and to the man lying lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around his body.
“Though, it seems you have done your duty,” Acacius comments, head turned down as he stares at the body before his eyes peer up at you under his dark lashes, pensive, “now—kill them.”
-
You had lost a hundred or so men, nothing to the army of five thousand, but any loss was felt within General Acacius’ army—men of honor, with families or not, deserved a proper farewell. 
Covered in the blood of many, some of your friends and some of strangers, hair matted and reeking of death, you approach General Acacius who was sending off a group of men to begin digging the mass grave to dispose of the bodies.
Your body ached, bruised and nicked from battle—you had killed at least five hundred men alone. Pure rage and fury, not a memory of it as you approached him now, a blank stare void of emotion that concerns Acacius, his hand reaching for your wrist as you begin to pass him, heading for your own tent to collapse in exhaustion. 
“You did well,” He notes, catching your gaze as he turns his head to infiltrate your line of sight, “wash off before you turn in, you…reek. There’s a river beyond the bend—clean, warm.”
You nod despite only paying half-attention to his words, walking mindlessly toward the river before you are faced with the unfortunate crowd of men, undressed to their natural state, avoiding the watchful eyes and preying gazes, stripping your armor off down near the empty end of the river, pulling at your tangled hair, pulling off each remaining piece of clothing despite your body’s protest, screaming for relief.
It wasn’t unfamiliar, the looks—you bathed alongside all the men under the arena without a thought, knowing most of them were vying for freedom and wouldn’t dare risk it by allowing their cocks to work overtime, forgetting rational thought.
But, to them, you were a trophy. Someone—something, to be conquered.
The thin, flimsy undergarments come off last, stepping into the water and sinking down slowly. The blood washes away as you scrub, back turned as you dip your head into the water before committing  entirely, plugging your nose as you dip underneath the water, finding peace in the silence.
“I had my doubts, Medusa,” A voice bellows from behind as you rise, your eyes peeling open with a quickly growing annoyance, “of you being a true woman, but—”
“Careful,” One of the men warned, a stable boy, “she will run to the general.”
It was the same man from many nights ago, big and brutish, always looking for a fight, even with the other men. He hadn’t learned his lesson, clearly. 
“Acacius is busy,” He retorts, “so—what say you give us the show you owe us?”
You stand frozen in place, staring daggers at the man who seems only more amused as the anger in you builds, permeates.
(sa themes below: noncon touching, reader is naked in front of several men)
“Get out of the water,” He demands, “unless you prefer I come get you.”
You survey your choices, knowing that staying in the water wasn’t a safe option. They can and will wait you out. Your eyes track toward your clothes, further away than you had left them. Your eyes track the scar on his forearm and you smirk, teething peeking out behind your lips, “How beautiful,” You tell him, his eyes slowly following your own, “quite the scar, is it not? Fancy another?”
You spot the knife sheathed in his leather belt, taking your chances despite the vulnerability that remains with your naked frame on full display as you retreat from the water, he nods with confidence as you approach, a faint whistle in the distance that you’ve heard before. The oaf seems to ignore it, though. His large hand comes to your breast in an instant, body dripping wet and a sickness churning in your gut as the sticks of torch and fire approach amongst the murmuring crowd of men, less than subtle about the rowdiness that was ensuing.
He pulls you into his body with a greedy hunger as his opposite hands gropes at your backside, following the curve of your ass as your hand snakes toward the blade, but the voice that rips through the crowd is enough to wake the dead, silence falling over the area in an instant.
“Remove your hand,” Acacius voice travels, the same booming voice he uses to declare victory over a new territory, “or I will remove it myself.”
“General,” The man addressed in a drunkish manner, inviting, “she was offering—Medusa, tell him.”
Your silence is expected, his hand wandering toward your other breast, biting hard enough at the inside of your cheek that it draws blood—Acacius sees your hand wrapping around the blade and speaks again, approaches closer as the mud sticks to his boots, “I will tell you once more. Remove it.”
The man eyes you with disdain, dropping his hands away as you relinquish your hold of his weapon, allowing the breath caught in your chest to escape, but it doesn’t stop the touch that follows, taunting with its intention as his palm curls around the back of your head, tilting your head to the side as he squeezes, “I forget—you are the General’s property after all.”
(end of sa themes)
“Take him,” He orders the other lingering guards, men who’ve never shown you anything other than respect—they value their lives and limbs, as any sane person would, “and start the fire.”
Acacius looks around at the lingering eyes, “I suggest all of you return to camp. Now.”
That was all it took, most of them scrambling for their own clothes and armor as they retreated like scurrying mice or dogs with their tail between their legs, leaving you under Acacius' careful gaze. He reaches down to fetch you dirtied clothes, looking them over with disgust.
He removes the black cape around his shoulders without a word, opening it as an offering. Desperate to cover yourself, you slip your arms in the sleeves with his help, his eyes wandering no further than your face as you turn to him, tucking the cape around yourself. He reaches for the hood, pulling it down.
“Come,” He demands, “I would like you to witness.”
The screams are audible as you approach camp, a few feet behind Acacius as he rounds the fire and separates the crowd to create a path, approaching the man bound at his feet, one arm roped at his side and secured away, leaving him to fight the men that held him down.
“General, gen—general, I am sorry,” He pleads, “she—you do not understand, she taunts. She is poison, not a leader,” He continues, despite Acacius lack of response, making a motion with his hand to remove the man’s weapon and hand it to him, pulling it from it’s leather cover and examining the blade, he makes a soft sound to himself, “Acacius—you have known me for years. Do not let this woman trick you.”
“Gag him,” He ignores his pleading, leaning down to grip the hand of the man bound below, “your humility is amusing, but your greed is what is costing you. She has shown you mercy, but I will not.”
The cut isn’t a clean slice, either. It takes several swings before the limb detaches, blood spurting out of the appendage as the man screams in pain, dragged helplessly toward the fire before they’re cauterizing the wound—your body unreactive as you watch but silently stewing with frustration.
He had spared the man, sure. But, making a show of it? A mockery?
“Commander, with me,” General Acacius demands, waiting for you to snap back into reality, your eyes meeting his face, blood covering his armor and hands, somehow avoidant of most of the mess.
When you are alone, you don’t hold back.
“I would have handled him,” You tell him, “killed him myself.”
“This is not the arena, we do not go around slaughtering our men without reason,” Acacius retorts, “he will be demoted and replaced and be a reminder to the others that you—”
“I do not need you defending my honor, General.”
“Men will not change, this—society, it does not cater to your safety. To them, women are nothing but vanity and pleasure—”
“And property,” You remark, “lest you forget how you obtained me, General.”
Acacius approaches you near the table at the center of his tent, only a foot away as he removes his armor plate, pulling it over his head, “Had I not, you would have paid for your own freedom eventually. I needed a leader—strong, smart, powerful.”
“By punishing that man, you are sending the message that I need my battles fought for me,” You argue, “and as if these men did not already think I was the General’s plaything, what will they think now?”
Acacius sighs through his nose, pulling at the fabric of his tunic that bares his chest, “I believe they will behave,” He tells you, “because you will not be as kind when you take their heads. He was an example and a pain in my ass for years, he deserved more than that.”
“And what will they think of me now? I am naked under this cloak, your cloak. I must walk the path back to my tent surrounded by men deprived of the things your bestial minds crave.”
Acacius chuckles to himself, “I have been thinking,” He begins, “that you deserve a new name. Something indicative of all that you are. Some of the men award each other with monikers of war. Medusa seems to have become more of a taunt, in light of recent events.”
He unties the leather bands at his wrist, eyeing you with a mischievous gaze as he keeps you waiting, “Have you heard the tale of Minerva, my lady?”
It isn’t a surprise, but you shake your head.
“A goddess of many things—strategy, warfare, victory, and justice…but mostly importantly, wisdom. I have seen the way you command the battlefield, it is not lost on me.”
“You have…many stories, General.”
“My mother told me one every night as she tucked me, it seems they have stuck with me.”
Tell me more, the words linger in the back of your throat.
“I am barely standing, General. I must retire for the night.”
“Indeed,” He agrees, shamelessly stripping down to his undergarments to walk toward the clean bowl of water and wash away the drying blood, “and Minerva,” the name is completely foreign, but you respond with a hum, “your position is yours alone. You have earned it. Do not let them tell you otherwise.”
-
Like Medusa, the name sticks.
And thankfully, you were a few weeks away from a much-earned break from war, returning to Rome as a free woman for the first time, having finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm with the rest of his personal guards—a mutual respect that had been missing, men waiting for your command.
Long nights of planning spent in Acacius tent, surrounded by the other guards until they filter out one by one, growing curiosity and questions lead to many hours of conversation that you, for many months, had been deprived of in the arena.
“You did promise my return,” You remind him, “they will be expecting you to keep that.”
“They are young, fickle men,” Acacius berates with amusement, “I am sure they have moved on.”
“Do you fear them? The emperors?”
“They are spoiled brats,” Acacius responds, an answer in itself.
“They would visit me often,” You admit, “Caracalla seemed to be—it seems the syphilis in his loins was truly affecting his brains, often he would not even make sense. Or he would come to me, complaining of his brother.”
“You had built quite the rapor,” Acacius notes with a smile, sipping at the broth from his stew as he invites you to sit on his fancy, expensive bed cot. Much nicer than your own, cushioned and wrapped in velvet, “What of Geta?”
“He liked my breasts,” You begin bluntly, “and my—”
“He forced himself upon you?”
“I was property of Rome, Acacius,” You didn’t often say his name in such a relaxed way, blaming it on the full belly and exhaustion, “therefore I was his. I have suffered much worse than a lonely man searching for comfort.”
Acacius seems thoughtful, pensive as he stirs at his quickly diminishing stew. He does catch your lingering gaze on his face after a while, mesmerized by the scar underneath his eye, he encourages you.
“Ask, if you are so curious, my lady,” He places his bowl to the side, empty.
“Your scar,” You nod, pressing your finger in a mirroring way under your eye, “is there a story?”
“Nothing to be told with boast,” He chuckles, “a wound of battle, is all. Like many of the scars on my body,” He tells you, raising his naked forearm to display the various scars, noting the few that paint his clavicle, “and you, Minerva?”
It seems to have become a particular quirk of his, a lilt to his voice as he calls you by your given name—the others have become accustomed to it, too. But, with Acacius, it felt special. Treasured.
You raise your eyebrows at his question, quietly unlacing your top to pull it down your shoulder, sliding a hand over your breast to respect the dynamic between you both—him being your general and you, his subordinate. His eyes squint as he examines the jagged and staggered scar on the side of your breasts—not quite faded, healed but relatively fresh.
“He is a biter,” You warn him with amusement, “Geta.”
Only one scar, given by one of the emperors, somehow untouched from real battle. It was miraculous. You readjust your top, feeling the heat from your neck rise to your face at what you had just willingly offered over to Acacius. Unfortunately, he had a way of lowering your guard.
With that talk, it seemed like a true breakthrough in your partnership with Acacius.
He always allowed you to speak for yourself, never overstepping the boundary you had argued with him over, leading the charge with an iron fist and handling the younger, fresh faced soldiers who just seemed…lost. 
It was hard to ignore the lingering glances over time, often during meetings as you spoke, not a look of attention but rather…ravishing. Hungry, but in a subdued manner. You weren’t sure where the lines had blurred, but they had.
Possibly somewhere within the long nights of conversation or the lingering touches that shouldn’t have been as charged as they were, handing over a piece of armor or blade and his calloused fingertips would circle your wrist, pause, before his brain would catch up to his actions. 
“Go on,” He encourages after a final night of victory and triumph, many of the men howling and singing tunes around the fire, drinking from their cups and enjoying the pleasures of alcohol and comradery, “you are missing the fun,” He was unnaturally quiet, subdued to his quarters, leaning against the outside of his tent as he watched with amusement but subtle dismay.
A younger man approaches with his hand extended, a gleeful expression on his face, “Minerva, please—come, you must enjoy the party, too.”
The general gives you an expectant look as you let the young man lead you away, curling his fingers around your own and pulling you with vigor, cheering loudly to blend in with the energy of the men despite how you worry about the man several feet away, your eyes tracking his disappearing figure as he slips into his tent, eventually pulled away by another man, one of the guardsmen who adored you, asking for a dance.
You agree hesitantly as the crowd roars louder, eyes searching for the exact reason as you see a few men leading a line of women into camp, little clothing to allow them modesty, a less than subtle shushing come from the men as they lead them deeper into camp, and the fear in you tells you to run to the General.
“It is not what you think,” The young man tells you, “they are dancers—no harm will—”
You bypass him, straight toward the men leading the path, stopping them cold.
“They are not here against their will, my lady.” He assures you, though, that could be argued.
“Minerva, Acacius has made it clear that harming women, you—is far worse a crime than anything else. Truly, it is not what you believe it to be.”
“I am telling the General, informing him of their presence,” You admit, “so I suggest you and the rest of the cattle be on your best behavior?”
They both give crisp, curt nods.
As you make the direct line for Acacius’ tent, you are ignorant to his silent plea for privacy at the tied rope, intertwined with gold fabric, pushing apart the fabric doors without much of a thought, reality hitting you as you catch a glimpse of his naked frame, patting down his body with a clean cloth as he washed himself, other hand curved around his cock as he stretched his neck up and back, the water splashing as he dipped the towel into the basin, only aware of your present when you make a small, unrecognizable sound as a result of your own stupidity. 
“I—General,” Your eyes widen as they take on a mind of their own, straight down the valley of his chest as he turns to you, quickly spinning on your heels, “I should have—I apologize, uh, the men…they are—”
“I was informed,” He assures, “and they have been warned, I assure you.”
“Yes, hm—um,” It was the only time Acacius had seen you flustered
“I assumed the rope was a clear message,” Acacius teases, “but—it is not your fault. I should have informed you of their…antics.”
He pulls the tight, fabric shorts over his hips, clearing his throat, peering over your shoulder you breathe a sigh of relief, “General, I would like to apologize for—” You swallow, watching as he turned barefoot on his heels, the fabric of the immodest undergarments curving around the stretch of his cock, half-hard under the fabric and the outline of thick head pushing against the linen.
You don’t realize how long you’re staring until he’s approaching with a tap of his finger on the underside of your chin, “There is no need for that,” He assures you, your nose scrunching up in confusion at the sudden touch, feeling the subtle shift as he reaches behind you for the clothes folded on the table at your backside, “surely you must return to the party,” He encourages, “celebrate a well-earned victory.”
“Why?” You counter, “When you will not.”
“Minerva,” He warns.
“You are distracted,” You note, watching as Acacius now avoids your gaze, “it is worrying me.”
He cannot admit the reason why. That it may be you. 
“Acacius,” You call his name, hoping that will break through to him.
“Leave me,” He asks, rather than demanding, “I need to rest.”
It was a lie, but you do not fight him on it.
Silence blankets the camp in the early morning hours—the witching hours, as you’ve come to know them. Sleeping securely in your tent, bedroll tucked under your head as you drift. Unaware of the creeping men planning your untimely demise, assuring that the entire camp was asleep before they strike, arms and legs rendered useless as the third shoves a piece of cloth into your mouth and ties it around the back of your head, screams muffled behind the fabric, stripped of your weapons. Helpless, they think.
During the struggle, one of them grows frustrated, banging the hard rock against your skull and plunging you back into darkness.
When you come to, you are unclear of where you are, but it was outside, arms above your head against the thick limb, feet bound tight as well, a sting and a string of wetness running down the side of your face as your blurry vision becomes clear.
“Little Minerva,” the voice begins mockingly, all too familiar to your ears, “he has named you—you must feel special, ay?”
He kneels in front of you, the one hand he has left curling around the forearm of what was left of his other appendage, “And you expect to return back to Rome as a free woman,” He laughs, snorts wetly through his nose, “I assure you that will not happen. Rather, you will be a dead one.”
The other two lingering figures join in on the laughter.
“How did you say it?” He taunts, “I will gut you where you stand?”
“It took three of you to capture me,” You retort, “your confidence is lacking sorely.”
He clears the back of his throat, rearing up a ball of saliva in his mouth before he’s spitting at you.
“I will slaughter all of you with my hands,” You promise, “untie me, unless you are fearful.”
Driven by ego, it doesn’t take much for him to agree.
But, as he had underestimated you the first time, and the second, he would regret the third.
The two men come at you first, enough tussling and your teeth ripping into the ear of one of them, searching blindly for a thick, heavy and sharp edge branch that would handle the weight of piercing through skin and muscle, finding the right weapon at the perfect moment—the attacker rearing back as the other approached, driving the make-shift stake through his chest as the other tackled you to the ground, a poor miscalculation on his part as you get your legs around his neck, arms pinned at an painful, awkward ankle until his neck snaps from the force, the ox-like man awaiting in the shadows like a coward, blood spilling from your mouth as you scream.
The heavy hooves approach like roaring thunder and the instant your attacker catches on, his attempts to flee are ruined by the barricade of men at all angles, General Acacius at the head of the charge, a rageful expression on his face. Feral unlike you have ever seen.
He jumps off of his horse, ordering the men to capture the surviving man once again, looking around at the lifeless bodies beside you, assuring his men he would handle you and the mess, demanding they return to camp at once. 
You look around aimlessly, blood staining your face as Acacius struggles to capture your attention, eventually resorting to a strong, demanding hold on your face, cradling your head with his hands.
“Are you wounded?” He asks, then notices the trail of blood from your scalp, pushing away the hair to reveal with gash from the rock they had attacked you with, grimacing as he runs his finger over the wound in worry.
Suddenly, you are stricken with a need, “Give me your sword,” You tell him, eyes flicking up to meet his own, “I need your sword.” His movements are too slow, still concerned with you that you reach for the weapon yourself.
Pulling away, you approach one of the dead men with the sword, swinging it up over your head and down with force, beheading him in one go, before switching to the other man, less finesse as you swing—again and again, until there is nothing but a pool of blood, bone, and brain—Acacius steps in eventually, tossing the sword away as he holds you arms in his fierce grip, letting the screams rip from your chest as he sways with you, eventually falling to your knees in exhaustion. He uses his bare hands to wipe the blood away from your neck, your face, feeling the soft shake of your body as you sob in silence, overcome with an emotion you so rarely let surface.
The public execution follows the next morning, everyone rousing from their tents to the loud, blaring horn from the ship just off shore—Acacius had assisted you back to camp on his horse, slumped against his back as you rode until the trampling finally stopped, sliding off the horse and into Acacius’ arms as he led you inside his tent.
He didn’t sleep the entire night, watching over you instead—he rarely blinked, staring off into nothingness as he tried to keep the vicious rage at bay, by morning, he was itching.
“You may stay,” He tells you, “your head—I cleaned it while you slept.”
You shove his hand away as he attempts to help you sit, slowly dressing yourself, eventually putting together the fact that Acacius had undressed and bathed you at some point throughout the night, not a speck of blood or spit remaining.
“Are you ordering me to stay?”
Acacius shakes his head, his hand still hovering close by.
“Then I will attend.”
He doesn’t argue against it and there is, despite your weariness to admit, a relief of your chest as Acacius rears back his blade, silencing the final scream the man lets out, pleading for his life. The blood sprays over his face, a strong grimace at the sheer strength it takes to behead the man, but the general manages it with one strike of his blade.
His speech follows, a deep and unsettling warning to all of his men. A final one.
Men, wide-eyed with fear, agree without resistance before he sends them off to ready the ship for departure and a meal before they begin their long trek back to Rome—he is less than gentle as he grabs your wrist without warning and pulls you alongside him, back to his tent.
He ties the rope with a stiff tug, before turning to you, stumbling on your feet as pull off his cape, having offered it to you for a second time, assuring that dressing in your usually armor wasn’t needed today, not as you began your travels, a flowing dress tied at your shoulder and waist that you were used to wearing during the showings back in Rome, parading you around like a prize.
“Acacius, perhaps you should sit,” You suggest, watching his hands curl into fists at his sides before he’s spinning on his heels and toward you, cradling your face like he had the night prior, but even this close, it felt like he was trying to keep you at a distance, “—I am sorry, if I did something—”
“I crave you,” Acacius admits, “you must know.”
Your lips part, gearing up the courage to speak, but falling short.
“Nights I have spent,” He breathes, shaking his head, the curls tickling your forehead as they meet, “thinking—wondering—”
“Acacius, why now?” You question him, “As we are homebound, back to your wife. Surely, she would have my head.”
Acacius shakes his head with a soft, but fond laugh.
“Our marriage is complex,” He explains, “Something I do not care to explain in great detail at this moment, you see—,” His hand curves around the side of your neck, tilting your head up, lips grazing against his own as he speaks, “I had no such intention for things to get like this, but you have proven to make things…difficult, for me,” He breathes out through his mouth, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “and I need you, should you have me.”
You could easily deny him, knowing he would back off in an instant. But, like this, clearly driven by adrenaline and instinct, riding the high of such a charged execution, he was craving something deeper than an outlet to release the built up tension. 
He craved connection—through little moments of conversation and touches, someone at level-ground, an equal. You were his equal. He’d given you so much since, and you would be lying to yourself if you denied the thoughts that had riddled your mind too.
“I do not much prefer a soft touch,” You finally reply, “or gentle care.”
He silences you with a kiss, bruising and tense as he licks into your mouth, hungrily searching for more areas to taste and devour, licking along the column of your neck as the blood of another smeared into your skin, his fingers working quietly to undo your dress, in turn wrestling with his armor and clothes, nearly ripping the fabric of his shirt from his body as you claw at him.
Wet kisses and clashing tongues fill the silent room, a screeching sound as your back hits the roundtable before he’s lifting from the back of your thighs and scooting you onto the surface, naked and bare as he spreads your thighs apart to move between them, clearly restraining himself as he licks, teeth grazing carefully.
“I enjoy them,” You admit, “Do not hold back, Acacius. They are what I will keep with me, if this be the only time.”
Like a dog cut loose of his chain, his teeth sink into the breasts mirror the mark of the other, hissing as his teeth break through the skin just enough for the subtle trickling of blood to rise to the surface before he’s soothing the wound with his tongue, staring up at you through a half-lidded gaze, prowling for more. He dips lower, falling to his knees as he pulls you toward the end of the table, ass hanging near the edge as his teeth sink into your thigh, near the swell of your cunt as you moan, fingers digging into sweaty, matted curls.
“Acacius,” You plead breathily, “I want your mouth.”
Where—it did not matter. But, Acacius fulfills that need as he licks a broad strip through your cunt, nose buried in the coarse curls, still smelling of the fresh soap he had bathed you in, taking delicate care as he washed your body, letting you slump into him, soaking him in the process. 
“Yes, that—” You respond airily, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dips inside of you, swirling your slick around on his tongue and sucking harshly at your clit, staring up at you daringly from his position beneath you, unwavering, “oh, gods above…”
Acacius chuckles below you,the sound vibrating against your cunt as your moans increase rapidly, thick fingers dipping inside your pulsating core, “This high—it feels like—”
He rises to press a kiss against your stomach, climbing, tongue licking over your belly button and between your breasts, “—like…” He encourages, “come on, my lady, do not sell out on me now,”
“Like a battle high,” You admit with a faint laugh, “though, different, but….”
He understands, driven by unbridled need, uncapped adrenaline. 
“Well, vae victis,” He taunts, “now—come here,” He squeezes at your hips and pulls you to him, his cock stiff, throbbing  between your legs before he is twisting and spinning you around, feet planting against the ground as he bends you over, fisting himself tight as he rubs his thick cock head between your folds, watching as your wetness coats him, sinking into your fluttering hole with little resistance, a sweet cacophony of noises releasing from your throat as you grip onto nothing, hand curling into a fist as you moan, open-mouthed and shameless.
“Harder,” You beg, forcing the word out between thrusts, blunt fingernails clawing at your hips, attempting to pull you in closer despite your proximity, as if he could consume and even that wouldn’t be enough, “Acacius, please.”
It was like instinct, his hand sliding up the back of your thigh to lift your leg up, pinning it up—up, until you feel the ache in your sore muscles as he holds you in place with a fist between the bend of your knee, heaving breaths at your neck as he fucks you into the hard surface of the table.
It was a pain you would feel in your bones, that would carry with you into the morning, marks that would last for longer, a remnant of this moment, the mess of blood smearing on your own skin as he melts against you, forehead resting against your shoulder as his gaze follows the movement of his hips, slow but powered thrusts that drilled into you, clawing at his skin to leave your own bruises. The hand that brushes against your core is your ultimate demise, feeling breathless as your orgasm pulls you under, muffled sobs into your fist as you bite down, fearful that it might draw attention. Though, Acacius seems preoccupied, still.
His hand seeks your neck, digging in as he pulled you up, “To your knees,” He demands softly, your body moving out a memory, dropping to the floor—though, the sight is much more tantalizing, Acacius fisting his cock tight, feral as he teeth were bared, like a man fresh from the slaughter, he comes with a deep and guttural groan, your tongue sliding against the underside of his bulbous head, thick spurts coating your tongue, his body shaking as you pull away, swallowing all that he had offered with a steady, locked gaze. He assists you upright, steadying you.
“For a man who has such a distaste for unnecessary violence, you wear it well,” It wasn’t a compliment, rather an observation, his eyes tracking your naked frame, fingertips tracing the curves of your body in admiration. 
“You are quite inspiring, Minerva,” He admits, gathering your thick dress and helping you redress in silence, tying the material around your body, “not everyone deserves mercy.”
Your smile is rare, but it is beautiful. And he wasn’t a man for such dramatics.
But, it could bring him to his knees, he thinks.
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tbaluver · 5 months ago
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hello there ! firstly, i wanted to tell you that i genuinely love your writing bc of the amazing characterization of the lnds boys !!! i wanted to request smth myself <3 feel free to ignore this if it's smth not within your taste !
i just recently thought that it would be cute to have a reader with a disney princess-like voice singing lullabies ! it could be their child or someone they babysit ! you could do any of the lnds boys that react to this but personally i'd like to see zayne (mainly bc he'd probably see reader at the hospital's kids area doing this !) and sylus, please ! thank you for your writing, we adore it ! ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡
When They Hear You Singing A Lullaby- The Love And DeepSpace Men
parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: eeeee anonnie i'm so happy to hear you love my writings it always makes me day !! im always grateful and love your guys support for my silly writings ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) i hope this is alright and that you enjoy this anonnie ! and also this emoticon is so cute omg i'm going to use this often ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
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Xavier:
You thought he would be sound asleep when he was over at your place when you were babysitting one of your co-workers baby. The baby wasn't necessarily fussy at all with you but it started crying because it couldn't go to sleep. It woke Xavier up and he followed the sound of the crying down the hall until he overheard you singing a lullaby.
He would peek through the door to hear and watch you put the baby back to sleep. He watches in pure adoration, a soft smile spreading across his face. After you gently set the baby down, he approaches you slowly, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder. "You sang so beautifully," He whispers softly, careful not to disturb the baby. "Can you sing me to sleep next?"
"As if you need any help sleeping" You joked but you did it anyway. You sang a soft lullaby as he rested his head on your chest. He drifted off to sleep almost instantly, a soft smile on his face, before you could even finish the song
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Zayne:
While waiting for Zayne to finish his shift at the hospital, you received a text from him apologizing for the delay; he needed to discuss an upcoming operation with his colleagues. You texted him to take his time and began exploring the familiar hospital halls. As you wandered, you found yourself in the children’s area, admiring the colorful murals that brighten the space. Your growing hunger led you in search of a vending machine, but instead, you encountered a crying familiar child patient. You remember this child when you collected their drawings for the charity event you and Zayne helped with.
You crouch down to meet eye level with the child asking if they needed any assistance or if they needed a nurse but they simply shook their head saying that they can't find the nurse and that they can't sleep. They tugged your arm and asked if you can tell them a story or sing them a lullaby and you were more than happy to help out.
After finishing his shift, Zayne looked for you in the work hallway, but it was empty. He texted you but got no response, so he followed your shared location. As he approached, he heard you singing a familiar children's lullaby. Peeking through the door, he saw your back turned as you sang. He didn't want to interrupt but wanted to hear the whole song for himself too, captivated by your delicate and graceful voice. He was literally melting on the spot as he heard you sing. A smile would slowly spreading across his lips.
He's heard you humming before, usually when your doing your work or when you were helping him out in the kitchen. You let your mind drift off just a little bit as you hummed some of your favorite melodies. He already knew you had a beautiful voice but every time he tried to comment on it, your cheeks would heat up in embarrassment.
Lost in thought, Zayne was startled when you both unexpected crossed paths. You jumped as you emerged from the room, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, worried that he had heard everything. He spoke first, "There is no reason to be flustered. I think you have a beautiful voice and it's certainly comforting. Whenever you are comfortable I would like to hear more of it."
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Rafayel:
He was over at your house while you babysat one of your co-workers baby for the day. He asked if you needed any help when the baby started crying but you said it was okay as you ran off the go tend to the baby while he continued sketching on his sketchbook.
That's when he hears your voice. He sets aside his pencil and sketchbook, stopping his work to peek through the doorway. There, he watches you sing a lullaby while gently cradling the baby. He would think that your voice was beautiful and enchanting that seemed to effortlessly captivate all who hears it.
When you gently put the baby back down to it's bed, he'll be upset. Not literally. But upset that he hasn't heard you sing him a lullaby or ever heard you sing first or at all. He would pout and want you to sing him a lullaby immediately.
When you do, he falls asleep on your shoulder while he was sketching so when he wakes up he thinks your secretly full Leumurian because he hasn't heard a beautiful voice like that years ago.
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Sylus:
While Sylus was away on business, you let him know that you were busy taking care of your coworker's baby at your shared home. To be prepared, you had Luke and Kieran on standby in case you needed a break. When the baby began to cry, you swiftly picked them up, cradling them and singing a soothing song. Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran lingered in the hallway, and one of them decided to record your sweet singing and send it to Sylus, giggling as they did so knowing that he would love this.
As night fell and your coworker came to collect their baby, Sylus arrived shortly afterward. “Two little crows mentioned you can sing, sweetie. Is that true?” A blush spread across your cheeks, realizing that the twins had set you up once again. "I wish I could have been there to hear it myself. A video is not the same to hearing your mesmerizing voice in person."
Although he finds it amusing and adorable, he would ask if you could sing him a song to help him unwind because the business he dealt with was stressful. He wouldn't pressure you to sing him a lullaby but he would reassure you that your voice was already one of his favorite sounds already and nothing would ruin that.
That seemed to ease your worries, and as you both settled into bed, you let him unwind. You sang the same lullaby to him that you’d sung to the baby. Your gentle voice was incredibly soothing, wrapping him in a warmth and coziness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite his usual trouble with sleep, your voice made his eyelids grow heavy, a contented smile spreading across his lips as he drifted off.
It was no surprise that he loved hearing you sing and you having this skill made him think that it made you more beautiful to him than you already were.
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sugurouge · 4 months ago
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— taste of the divine : getō suguru x f!reader
content warnings! DARK CONTENT, forced marriage, kidnapping, mind break, heavy manipulation, dubcon, breeding/pregnancy talk, misogynistic topics, torture (isolation & darkness), conditioning, pet names (love, little dove, good girl), depression, stockholm syndrome
summary: Set out on the honourable task of finding the right wife for their leader, Getō's followers have abducted a special sorceress to bear him children that will carry on his will and legacy. Unfortunately, unlike your rather promising lineage, your temper and beliefs are anything but befitting for his wife. But not to worry, there are many ways to reshape a person. You will learn. Of that, Getō is sure.
❝ la sensualité de ton regard, la fragilité de ton corps. je brise ta pureté. deux âmes s'emmelent pour l'éternité. ❞
wordcount: 3.5k | my kinktober masterlist
──── ✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧ ────
by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.
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Never have you felt as objectified as you do in this very moment: the lustful, piercing stares of Geto’s countless followers bore through your clothing as you are thrown before him—a man you know all too well from hushed whispers and dark stares within the Jujutsu Society. He is the enemy, a lost man.
The white robe they forced upon you, a mockery of a bridal attire, does you no favours. They made sure to leave nothing to Geto’s imagination: he should easily see how thoroughly they searched for a perfect fit when they took you.
And yet, somehow, he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence—not once does he seem to look at you, unlike everyone else in the room.
That is the first blow to your pride.
Then, there’s the way they speak about you as if you are not even there. Coming from a prestigious, ancient sorcerer family, your bloodline offers Geto everything he could possibly desire, all he could ever need from his perfect breeding vessel to bring forth some sort of prince to revolutionise the world. Indeed, they say, you are perfect.
“That monster will not lay a hand on me!” Your fighting spirit is adorable. But nothing could have prepared you for the sudden, heavy impact landing on your cheek. Geto can’t hide his chuckle at your shocked reaction. Did you truly expect to insult him in a room full of his most loyal men? They would never hesitate to put you in your place before continuing their praises of their great Geto-sama.
Strike number two followed so quickly, it made your mask crumble. The frustration becomes a thrilling decor on your face as you continue to hold your bruised cheek. There is so much hatred in your eyes—Geto looks forward to replacing it with fear. You will learn your new place, he is sure of that. You will love to obey him, to bear him children that will carry out his will and create a society of the promised.
Yet, Geto appears to hold not the slightest bit of interest for you, no desire found in those deep purple hues you nearly drown in.
He knows he needs to play this game wisely. He can’t have a woman at his side who despises him, can’t risk the danger of a mother who would rather kill her children than let the riders of his apocalypse trample the grounds of this world. You need to fall for him, have to desire him. For that, your strong-willed mind has to be broken, to turn you into the most ethereal sacrificial lamb the Jujutsu Society has ever known.
With a softly spoken command to "leave us," the room empties. His followers depart swiftly, their obedience causing you to frown. How can they submit to a demon like him?
A demon—that’s what he is to you. Dangerous, devious, twisted—yet alarmingly beautiful. As he approaches, the air seems to catch in your throat, and, of course, Geto notices the heavy swallow you're forced to take.
Is this the moment he’s going to claim you? Right here, in this dreadfully cold room, surrounded by an atmosphere of adoration for his sick schemes? Your body instinctively leans back, shrinking away beneath his stare. You already appear so submissive. He doesn’t trust it.
Standing tall with feet planted firmly on the ground, Geto looms above your kneeling figure. You didn’t expect the shiver that crawls over your skin as your eyes meet his. It’s as though he has flipped a coin and donned a different personality: one of intimidation and something darker, something sick. He might kill you on the spot if you speak now.
Hence why your lips part, yet no words escape before you shut them once more. The nervousness clouds your mind, paralysing your thoughts as you waver between holding his gaze or looking away. You're already caught in his web.
"Learn to love your new home," he says—the only words he speaks before leaving you alone.
The man you expected to force himself upon you, to bruise you, to scar your body and mind—he never touches you. He never seeks you out, never again meets your gaze. Your first night welcomed you to a life of isolation. You can only cling to the sticky feeling of fear that attaches itself to your new daily existence around Geto’s presence.
𓍯𓂃
Every day, you are expected to be part of his reception, dressed in fine clothing, your hair styled in ways befitting your title. Yet, despite this, you are forced to kneel, your forehead touching the ground, just like all his followers. You have reluctantly accepted this role after spending your first weeks locked away in a tiny room, with barely any light or kindness to sustain you. 
During those weeks, you never once met your 'husband'. He refused to be bothered by your disobedience, unconcerned with the punishment his most trusted men inflicted upon you. 
It all played perfectly into his hands, as you began to believe these men to be far worse monsters than Geto could ever be. After all, he never laid a hand on you, never tortured you, never dragged you into the dark dungeons until you began seeing things. 
After months of this twisted game of escape within his temple, with only his henchmen for company, he finally deemed you broken in. No one had ever lasted this long under his torture before. He might have even said he was impressed by your willpower. But that strong-willed part of you was gone the moment Geto finally decided to free you from the darkness. 
He may never forget the state he found you in: the hatred in your eyes shifting to relief upon seeing his face, your body worn down and weak from exhaustion, your fighting spirit crushed by the horrors your mind encountered in that cell.
You wanted to be saved by him. 
Deprived of human contact, kindness, touch, affection, you crave to be cradled in his arms. You want nothing more than to feel a hand pat your back, to be held tightly while you finally allow yourself to cry until you pass out. But the torture continued. Geto assumed it wouldn’t take much more to get you to eat out of his hand. So, for now, he shall continue this farce. He shall refuse to touch you since you aren’t fully ready to accept his love just yet. 
That much was clear since he could still catch you stealing glances towards the nearest escape route, no matter which room you were in. Until eventually, even with the doors unlocked, you no longer dared to look. You were too aware of what they would do to you if they caught you again. You couldn’t bear to be plunged back into the darkness, where the monsters you carried out of that room still haunted your sleep. 
So, you learned to listen, to bend in an attempt not to break, while your mind slowly began to fade. Geto loves this version of you. How you bow to him each time he passes, how your body stiffens at the mere sound of his footsteps, how your eyes search for him. What are you looking for? Have your resources finally run dry? Do you need him now? Need him to fill you with his love, his affection, and his seed? Geto can only admit to himself the joy he feels upon comparing this new you to the feisty thing you once were. It makes his desire almost unbearable, his cock heavy with the urge to pump into you until you give out, until you bless him with the perfect children. 
You should really stop clinging to your dignity and surrender yourself to him. 
Instead, you isolate yourself further. You behave, yes. You don’t act out, you don’t try to escape. You are now a perfect rule follower, much like a robot, little like a wife. But what else could he do but leave you space. He swore to contain himself. He’s not some monster that would hurt another great jujutsu sorcerer. Plus, he adores you too much.
But he does start to worry. Worry for the plans that will fail if you succumb to your depression and fail to cling to him for support, for purpose.
𓍯𓂃
Imagine the surprise Suguru tries to hide upon learning about the person standing in front of his most private chambers, seeking an audience at such a late hour. A defiant shadow of the woman you once were enters his haven—your hair loose and unstyled, a soft and tired expression gracing your beautiful features, and that delicate robe you chose to wear for him. Your guard is finally gone.
After another slumber filled with dark monsters and fears, you find yourself desperately searching for comfort and found yourself in front of these doors.
Suguru moves closer, tearing through the final walls you've erected around yourself. He didn’t expect you to break down merely from his acknowledgement of your presence. Was he too hard on you? He wonders, as gentle hues of purple try to solve the riddle in front of his eyes. The kind words of “You are so beautiful,” make your shoulders sag, they add a tremble to your bottom lip—a reaction Suguru hadn’t anticipated. His sudden gentleness feeds your depraved ego. Careful not to turn into a glutton. 
The smell of incense and sandalwood might just become your new favourite. The creamy sweetness blended with earthy undertones seems to be a comfort you didn’t expect once Suguru stands in front of you. The warmth of his palm, another trait you wouldn’t have granted him—you always expected him to be cold to the touch. Yet, as a hand lightly rests against your neck, you feel yourself melt.
To Suguru’s astonishment, you lean into his touch and let your eyes fall shut. This serene moment allows your mind to finally slow down thanks to the much needed human contact. For some reason, you feel safe, protected. 
You are so docile now.
Your eyes meet as Suguru tilts your chin upwards, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours, his fingertips tracing the contours of your neck and collarbones. “You’re empty,” he breaks the silence with a gentle voice. “Let me change that…” The tip of his nose nudges yours, soft lips graze your skin before trailing kisses along your jawline. “I can make you forget about your past struggle and give you a new purpose…” Your hand fists the fabric of his attire as an attempt to ground yourself, his affections have you hum in sugary content. “A purpose greater than you ever anticipated.” Suguru’s free arm finds rest around your waist, to stabilise your tired form against his chest while his mouth attaches to your neck, leaving kisses in its wake. 
“Give yourself to me, be mine forever,” his husky voice reaches your core, hits exactly where he wants to influence your body most as he whispers the words into your ear. Then he pulls back, to cradle your cheek while commanding you. “Look into my eyes, little dove.” He tilts his head, challenging you to focus on him, to finally speak, surrender. 
He needs to taint you, to finally shatter the perfect image you’ve been trying to uphold. “Let me save you.”
You can barely offer more than your pliant body, seemingly overwhelmed by his greed for you. “Save me, please,” the whispered words threaten to burn themselves into Suguru’s memory.
His fingers run over your shoulder, down to your chest and above your stomach. You feel hot beneath his touch, needy to be filled with life and love again.
The alluring touch reaches beneath your robe, between your soft thighs, allowing him to tease you through the fabric of your panties. The tip of his finger grazes the delicate area, soft moans escaping your lips as your hips push into his touch.
The moment lures you forward, to close the distance and have your shaky lips meet his in a searing first kiss. Who would have thought you were that starved? Naughty girl. But he happily leans into your guidance, kissing you without restraint, teeth tugging at your lower lip before his tongue pushes into your mouth, leaving you breathless and needy.
As you break away, your face finds refuge in the curve of his neck, sighing your pleas for “more…” against his warm skin. “Patience, love,” Suguru breathes, eliciting goosebumps to decorate your skin and a flood of pleas to cloud your mind. One of his fingers hooks under the silky fabric, tugging at it teasingly to let the cool air hit your pulsing heat before a single fingertip begins to tease your clit, then enters your clenching little hole.
Your moan is unholy, a sound so exquisite Suguru couldn't prepare himself for it. He won’t let you hide them. A finger redirects your face to force you to look at him and allow him to drown in your glazed eyes. The irregular huffs from your lungs warm his skin, as he loses himself in your irises. You’d kiss him again if not for the firm grip on your chin.
“I’ll make you feel good every night, as often as you need me,” the once-dangerous man promises, before showing you his mercy. His hands release you to finally tug at the overflowing fabric of your robe, exposing your heavenly form to his eyes. And yet, you don’t feel exposed, don’t feel shame anymore as you watch Suguru admire you. You’ve never felt so good.
“Undress me,” Suguru’s firm voice commands, though he seems so pliant, so soft. Let your rush of confidence guide you to close the distance again, let your fingers untie his robes and slip beneath the heavy layers. His eyes close upon your touch, almost as if he’s allowing you control. Leaning in, his temple rests against yours and strands of dark hair drape over your shoulder area while the fingertips that trace along your waistline already feel like home.
As you push the fabrics off his shoulders, you can’t help but explore Suguru’s built figure. The contrast between his skin and the richness of his hair, illuminated by the moonlight, makes him look almost innocent. You swear you feel him shiver as your fingertips thread through his hair, his shaky exhale dampening your skin. “So pretty,” you murmur subconsciously, upon which his eyes open, a newfound desire now pools in them. 
You don’t mind the blunt nails that dig into the plush of your ass, don’t mind being pushed back until your calves bump against his bed frame. Yet, he keeps drawing in, to fully push your figure up against him while cupping your face to kiss you again. Suguru’s hardness meets your stomach, tainting your skin with his pre-cum while seeking such teasing pressure. The thought of being inside you any moment now has turned him needy. He kisses you more erratically, lips crashing against yours until they nearly turn numb.
He guides your body to find comfortable rest on his mattress as he leans above you. There is a moment of pure adoration as your hands cradle his cheeks gently, before curious fingertips explore the flexing of muscles beneath the required force to hold himself up. His hand roams over your heaving chest, appreciating the form of your tits before trailing along your waistline and hip to take a firm hold of your inner thigh—parting your legs with ease to prod the head of his cock against your achingly ready hole.
Your eyes shoot up to him as he guides his length to run along your puffy lips, coating himself in your arousal and relishing the way your hips push against him. It’s too tempting not to push into you, especially when you roll yourself against the head of his cock, stretching your entrance around him ever so slightly and forcing a moan from Suguru’s lips. Your hands rest in the long strands of his hair and at the soft skin of his nape. Every fibre of your being lures him forward, pleading for him to make you feel complete.
He succumbs, leaning down to swallow your moans as he whispers, “Forgive me for my sins,” just a second before he sheathes himself deep inside you. You never expected to experience pleasure this intense upon your surrender; the stretch of Suguru’s cock a wicked reward that steals the last drops of sanity from your mind. Your lustful moans echo in the shared space between your bodies, and the chilly temperatures of the season make your panted breaths seem feasible.
“Finally,” you think you hear his breathless murmurs before he leans in again, lips latching onto your perky nipple while Suguru palms your right breast, gently squeezing your soft mound and rolling the nipple between his fingers. His teeth spoil—or rather, overstimulate—your left side, nibbling on the sensitive area until you whine and writhe beneath him, your hips pressing against his cock perfectly. How could he resist putting a little torture on you?
“You feel so good,” his words drip like honey into your ear. The tips of his hair and the trained muscles of his upper body brush against your figure, tickling and teasing your awareness as he sinks deeper to finally bottom out.
The addictive moan that escapes you leaves him no choice but to refuse to kiss you further; he doesn’t want you to cover up the sounds of pleasure he’s bringing forth. Instead, he redirects his mouth to nibble along your exposed skin, planting one love bite after another along your neck until he reaches your collarbone.
His world stops spinning when you moan his name—so shamelessly, so heavenly—that he could ascend right in this moment. “S-Suguru!” you plea, so smoothly, he can’t help but thrust harder into you. Your fingers drag over the duvet while he pulls his heavy cock out of your fluttering walls only to push back in. You cry in pleasure, praises to his name spilling from your lips as his hips roll against you. His hands securely grip your shaking form, holding you perfectly in place for his own selfish desires.
Your soft moans mix with his rich ones, creating the most beautiful harmony as your bodies share the deepest connection possible. Warm palms glide over your figure to take a firm hold of the back of your thighs and press them flush into your chest. His entire weight squishes you further into the mattress and allows for a reach that appears incomprehensible. The sudden intensity seems too much to bear; it makes you painfully aware of just how deep he is inside you. His thighs slap against your hips at a rapid pace, each thrust jolting your body against the mattress as his cock repeatedly hits your cervix.
By surprise, you hear him suck in a sharp breath as he witnesses the state he’s left you in: fat tears staining your cheeks as the mix of pain and pleasure leaves you unable to form coherent thoughts. You’re so perfect, perfectly submissive and ruined for him to rebuild.
Now, you feel his love, the adoration pooling in his dark eyes as he can’t seem to look away. Eager to witness every second of your pleasure. “So perfect, such a good girl for me,” he praises, his lips caressing your forehead to calm you down, while he continues thrusting into you with the same strength, speed, and desire. “Let go for me, give into pleasure,” he encourages, the clamping of your walls a telltale of what impedes. 
You barely manage to nod in agreement, moans and hiccups making it impossible to form coherent thoughts while Suguru knocks the air from your lungs. You whimper against his sweaty skin, your breath tickling his neck while your nails claw into his back. “‘S too much,” is your final warning before your walls tighten perfectly around him, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps.
With all this newfound love, he can’t resist breaking his little rule. Suguru seeks out your lips, hurriedly placing his own over yours—surely not to drown yours, most likely to cover his own—as he almost immediately follows your orgasm with his own. He thrusts all the way in, coming deep inside your fluttering walls, which practically milk him dry.
His hand slides from your thigh to gently press against your stomach, accentuating where exactly his length resides and his cum lands, praying that your womb savours every drop of his seed to hopefully turn fruitful.
Your bodies are close enough for your heartbeats to thump against each other’s skin, pants and whimpers stifled by the shared kiss as you both come down from your highs. “Don’t ever dare to leave me.” The words are nothing but a whisper as his lips return to spoil your body with kisses, but the intensity behind them makes your heart stumble. The loneliness he must have repressed since his days at Jujutsu Tech have ended something you never once considered before.
But now you are here. Here to stay with him, to be his family, his weakness and strength all at once and forever. He broke you just to hold you. Now let him make it up, forever.
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dividers by @/cafekitsune
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just-some-random-blogger · 10 months ago
Text
Tear In My Heart
Aemond never cared for tourneys, for hunts, nor for any sort of pageantry; he supposed marriage fell in that category. To be frank, he never cared for you either, but then he heard whispers about you and his brother, and then thought, maybe he somehow did.
Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader x Aegon Targaryen | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has baratheon feature (dark hair), wife!reader, arranged marriage, jealousy, possessiveness, infidelity, men being men, angst, violence/hunting for sport/death, typos, etc.
A/N: mind the tags! This is part of my graduation celebration 🩷🩷🩷🩷 slayed college. Let's pretend I posted this on schedule lmao. The hotd trailers really brought me to life. Part of this fic is inspired by the 2014 french beauty and the beast film.
Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @lxdyred
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Brother.
What was he?
The word was a stone, heavy but worthless. Nothing ever came from a brother besides bluntness, brashness, and bludgeoning burdens.
No kindness befell Aemond from his brother Aegon. Likewise, Aegon long knew to expect nothing but vexation from Aemond.
Yet even the most broken of bonds are bound back under the great unifier— Death.
Never before had the brothers worked towards a common goal so fast, so easily, and all without needing to utter a word. Together, they carry their game back to their camp, equally ignoring the burn of their arms.
Aemond loathed hunting expeditions. He loathed it then, he wholeheartedly abhorred it now. He regrets forcing himself into this godforsaken trip. He should have let you go on it alone, like always.
He regrets letting his slimy older brother getting under his skin. He regrets listening to all the rumors about Aegon and you. But in his defense—
"I MAY BE BLIND IN ONE EYE," Aemond snaps, causing you to flinch. He had never raised his voice at you like this before. He despises how shocked you look, how your bright eyes accused that he was wrong. It makes him fume, "but I see clearer than most."
Aemond is further irritated when your eyes began to water.
You, who was otherwise so well-kept and pristine, were falling apart in front of him. The wayward strands of dark hair framing your face irked him. The momentary thought of his children inheriting this trait added fuel to his anger. If, that is, whatever child you'd bear was even his to begin with.
"You are whoring yourself to my bovine brother!"
Your chest heaves heavily beneath your nightgown, "you would happily believe any slander to my name."
He scoffs when tears begin to fall from your cheeks. He paces towards the bed, unbothered if the issue is left unresolved. He'd rather sleep than watch you sob. The latter left a rather bitter taste in his mouth.
"What have I been but docile and serving?"
"Serving?" Aemond turns back, one eye narrowed, "to whom? Your greed and lust?"
"TO YOU!"
Aemond slightly pulls his head back, not expecting you to scream. He watches a spirit take over you. It was similar to that of the one that sometimes causes him to stare at you from across the room.
You suck in a breath, "do you not complain about Aegon day in and day out?" You blink rapidly and point harshly, "do you not wish him away and want him out of your hair, husband?"
"Don't you twist the truth for your-"
"I played his keeper so that you wouldn't have to," you motion, "I kept him in check so that you could do your errands, help your grandfather, go on your dragon rides, and yet you say you see clearer than most?"
"I saw you," he hisses, grabbing your shoulders.
You gasp and go rigid.
"I saw you embrace him in the cloak of night, in the corner of the gardens, where you thought no one could see."
You catch betrayal in his words, but it only causes you to chuckle dryly, "had you not lurked in the darkness, you'd have known he vomited on my shoulder and nearly passed out. Perhaps you would have felt compelled to help me drag him to his chambers."
Aemond clenches his jaw. He does not believe you.
You swat his hands away. You shake your head, "you're just a man. You're bored of what you have and want what you cannot."
"Ha. You are delusional if you think I want you."
You cannot help the sound that leaves your lips. You cannot help how you slap a hand to your mouth.
In that split second, Aemond spots the hurt on your face before you walk past him to your side of the bed.
You pull the covers down, "worry not. I've long accepted you will never want me."
"Oh," he growls, grabbing your arm before you can sit down, "and is that why you turn to my brother? Or why you leap at every chance to leave?'"
You wince as you turn to him.
"Now that I think about it, why is it you're invited to hunting expeditions so often?" Aemond demands under an angered breath, "d'you seek refuge in the-"
"I RUN INTO THE FOREST!" you hiss, shoving him away. His grip left a sting on your flesh and you rub it as you continue to burstp, "I run into the forest and let my instincts take over! I let myself shift into a beast and I run wild like a deer, begging to be shot down."
Aemond expression sours at your reaction.
"I live my curse as a Baratheon woman and morph into a doe, bullied by stags and dragons alike," you shudder, tears running down your face.
"Don't you play the victim here," he rebuts, "your family offered you to mine for power."
"Then why is it that I am so powerless, husband?"
Aemond doesn't bother watching you walk away, slamming the door shut on your way out.
Aggravation spills from his mouth through screams when silence drowns him. There is an ache in his chest that intensifies. It doesn't take long for him to question why he felt so hurt when what he was is angry, angry at you.
He then finds himself imagining you throwing yourself at Aegon, weeping on his lap. He imagines Aegon brushing your dark tresses back and drying your tears. It infuriates him more.
And as he convinced himself whilst in fumes that the reason why he hated your leave was how rudely you left, parts of his nightmares where coming true.
Aegon saw you storming down the hall in nothing but a nightgown, a cloak, and tears. He was too drunk to actually ascertain if you had no shoes on, but he was partially sure that there were truly tears running down your neck.
He was shocked by how shocked you were when he grabbed you by the arms and stopped you in your tracks. He knew you to have eyes that could spot a needle in a haystack, or real jewels from fake ones ten paces away. How could you not have noticed him when he wasn't even trying to hide how he staggered down the halls on his way back to his room?
"Spooked, kitty cat?" Aegon furrows his brows.
Your skin definitely had a damp sheen to it. Your gaze upon him somehow always hurt his thorax but it was amplified now with how puffy and red your eyes were.
"Where 'r'you storming off to?" he slurs.
You push him away, but even then you managed to offer consideration, as it was clear he was one shove away from dropping. You say, "unhand me, Aegon. I have no time for you tonight."
He pouts, blinking slowly, "and here I thought we were friends now."
You laugh. Your laugh has always had the power to make his spine tingle, but it was different this time. You shake your head, "the enemy of my enemy is not my friend."
Aegon slowly releases you. He clenches his jaw and sighs, "so it's Aemond who did this."
You scoff as you break away from him, "oh, spare me."
He watches you walk away from him. He feels hurt by your coldness. How quickly Aemond reaps your warmth. He calls out, "from what?"
You stop and snap from over your shoulder, "from whatever it is you think you can do!"
He was sober now, and his throat was dry at that.
"My burden is mine. I am his wife."
"And am to be king," he whispers, taking a step forward. He watches as you heave. He's long wondered what it would feel like to hear it as you did so beneath him.
"But you are not king," you reply, stepping back to maintain the space between you, "and you have your sister wife."
"Who would deny me?" he peers his face closer to you, "even a fool would deny me nothing."
"I would," you rebut.
He freezes.
"I am prize to you," you muffle out. Your manage an even voice even as hurt baptizes your cheeks, "meat between your teeth. You and him are cut from the same cloth."
"I AM NOT MY BROTHER, " Aegon snaps.
You flinch, just as you did Aegon. You shake your head and force a smile, "of course not, your grace."
The next moment, Aegon realizes he may not have been as sober as he thought, considering how quickly you fled him and how delayed his reaction to it was.
But then again, it was probably just you and your effect on him. After all, he managed to evade the incoming attack from behind, albeit momentarily; Aemond's senses were far shaper than Aegon's.
He grabs his older brother by the collar and shoves him against the wall. "All my life, I watched you be spoon-fed your desires, yet still you covet my bride," the younger Targaryen rages.
Aegon grins in challenge. He chuckles, "as it appears, you covet your own wife from me, brother."
Without warning, the first born is hurtled to the ground. He lets out an undignified grunt after he collides with the stone. He gasps when Aemond lunges at him.
It was only at this moment, he realized his brother without his eye patch. Dare he say that the sight of the sapphire added to the madness in is functioning eye.
Aemond produces a dagger and presses it to Aegon's neck. The former seethes, "I have every right to demand satisfaction from you."
Aegon groans when the cold steel kisses his skin too tenderly.
"You wouldn't last a second against me," the prince spits with venom, "brother."
"Do it then," Aegon screws his eyes shut, "and watch your marriage crumble before your very eyes."
Aemond throws his dagger to the side and slams Aegon once, "DO NOT TRY TO TRICK ME! I saw her reel from your touch."
"Oh," he utters through pain, "just as she reels from you, I bet."
Aemond releases him with a growl and heaves while looking down at him. He paces around; Aegon props himself up on his elbows, slowly coming to a stand.
Before Aegon can goad him on any further, Aemond grabs his dagger and pushes past him.
Both of them anxiously await your return that night. Aegon falls asleep whilst waiting for word from a servant, Aemond fights sleep whilst waiting for you to return to bed.
Yes, in Aemond's defense, the rumors about you and his brother was enough reason to pick a fight. In his defense, it was his right.
And for the first time, when you received invite for that hunting expedition with your cousin, no longer did he send you off on your own. He was keen to keep you at his side at all times, especially because Aegon weaseled his way into joining.
Aemond did not know why your cousin was so against the idea of hunting a stag. He was, in fact, offended by the Baratheon's adamant decline. The lesser lord dared even imply such a beast was beyond his caliber. He wasn't surprised you sided with your him, imploring Aemond to try his hand another season. What spurred him on was how Aegon agreed with you and how you looked at him when he smiled your way.
Yet, the spite he bore for his brother was the same thing that led to cooperation with him.
That night, when you thought he was sleeping, Aemond followed you outside. When you were nowhere to be seen when he got out of your shared tent, he stormed to his brother's, sure to catch you in the act.
All he got was a startled brother, cuddling up to a pillow when he ripped his blanket off, a naked one at that.
And after a bit of arguing, Aemond saw a shadow of a deer passing outside the tent. That was how the brothers ended up in the forest. Aemond was intent to hunt that stag and Aegon was intent to watch him fail.
Again, in his defense, it was dark. In his defense, of course he wouldn't believe Aegon when he said that they were stalking a doe and not a stag.
Aemond was satisfied with his shot when he heard the beast cry out in pain. Aegon was satisfied when they found the writhing deer to be, in fact a doe.
It was common knowledge not to hunt the female of a species, yet the two debated whether or not they should let the injured animal go free or put it out of its misery. They thought they received the answer when the animal dropped in agony, but instead they received horror that would last them lifetimes upon witnessing the beast morph into a bride.
Your bare body laid before them, stomach pierced with an arrow. No traces of a doe was left, there was only pain and you. Tremors took over your body. Yolur tears flowed as steady as the blood from your gaping wound.
Aemond fell to your side, eye wide as he reached out to you. He thought a touch of your trembling flesh wake him from this nightmare, but it didn't. His mind raced, but he had a moment of clarity when he felt your blood dampen his knees.
He took off his shirt and covered you. You screamed in pain when he tried to carry you by himself, and he glared at his brother when he tried to help.
Aemond does not stop him however, thus, the brothers carried your body back to camp.
When you were laid on your shared bed, Aemond ordered Aegon to wake everyone and ready a carriage back to the city. His brother runs off to do just that.
"This will hurt," Aemond tells you, "but I must cut part of the arrow and bind your wound."
Before he can do so, you wet his face with the blood on your hand as you whine, "why do you weep for me?"
Aemond's brows furrow.
You swipe your thumb on his cheek with great difficulty. "Soon you will have the freedom you desire," you mumble, eyes slowly closing, "as will I."
The pain that courses through you when your husband breaks off part of your arrow prevents you from passing out.
As an extra precaution, Aemond taps your cheek, "keep your eyes fixed on me."
Your sad eyes open. Your tears gush down like rain.
"Is this why you're invited to hunt so often?" he cups your cheek, shaking you slightly, "does your cousin, himself, turn into a stag?"
Your reply does not come easy. You speak between your breaths, "it is a curse from my father... for hunting so many of them..."
There is commotion from outside your tent.
Aemond has the mind to grab some fabric to press on your wound. You cry out again because of this.
"Why didn't you tell me of your affliction?" he speak in panic.
Stabbing pain cuts off the laugh you meant to laugh. Your breath shortens, yet you manage a response, "would you have listened?"
He must admit, all the prayers he ever prayed were only uttered to please his mother, but as Aemond held half your body in the carriage back to King's Landing, as he watched Aegon's tears fall onto you while he held your other half, he prayed as earnestly as any pious man would. He claimed he would be better, he would even share you, if that is what it took to keep you.
And just as easily as Death unified the Targaryen brothers, she collected your soul the same night.
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latenightdaydreams · 8 months ago
Note
Perhaps you have plans for things, but can you please write part 2 of Viking! Konig? I'm so curious how would reader get used to her new life and her new husband
Husband upgrade🤭
Viking!König x Reader Part 2 (fem)
MDNI🔞
Part 1, Part 3
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, p in v, breastmilk
2.1k word count
.
.
Two middle life blonde women gently help you out of the tub they were bathing you in. Small drops of water fall to the wooden ground beneath you. They speak in a soft tone, but in a language you cannot understand. They’re telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky you are to be König’s queen.
You’re seated in a wooden chair, drying off from the bath. One woman stands behind you and combs through your hair. The other leaves out of your view to grab something. You shiver slightly, being naked and wet.
“Vi varmer deg opp snart.” The woman’s voice is kind, and she stops combing your hair and caressing your arms, trying to warm you.
You don’t respond, not knowing what she said. In a weird way, her touch feels familiar and calming. With a simple nod of your head, she goes back to combing your hair.
The other woman walks in front of you, holding up a beautiful blue dress. Again, she speaks and you just gaze up at her. Her blue eyes are bright as she’s speaking. Your head pulls back slightly as the tension on your scalp grows from your hair being pulled into a long braid.
Once your hair was done, she stood you up to dress you. The indigo blue dress fits you tightly, extenuating your breasts and the curve of your waist. A woven belt placed around your waist and a necklace with a medallion of a wolf dangles for it. Leather shoes tied to your feet as you
“Hun er klar.” She exclaims as she sees you totally transformed into a queen. “La oss gå.”
You leave the small house, their arms wrapped in yours as your guild you down a pathway. Inside, you feel as though you are about to throw up. Your feet drag beneath you, dreading seeing König.
“I can’t” You try to turn but the women’s grip on you is firm.
“Du blir bra.” One speaks as she pets your arm.
König paced back and forth in his house waiting for Hilda and Thyra to finish cleaning you for him to enjoy. He walks shirtless and without a mask, exposing his sculpted body covered with battle scars, tattoos on his pecs, and scars on his face. His light blonde hair falls to his shoulder, some pushed behind his left ear.
His head turns as he sees the door open and you enter. The same worried look that has plagued your face this whole journey is still there. König walks to you and takes your hand, thanking the women and sending them on their way.
Worried or not, you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. You look as if a goddess decided to come live amongst men. He will never understand how he got so lucky as to find you. Your breasts are full and swollen with milk, he can’t wait to taste you.
“You look beautiful, Liebling.” The door closes, and it’s just the two of you.
“Please, I can’t stay here.” You instantly plead, voice shaking. “I need to go home.”
“You are home.” He looks down at your face, studying you in the low light. “Don’t be so sad.”
“My children—”
“Are safe at home.” His hands caress your arms up and down.
“I need my children here.”
“I’ll give you new ones. Stronger ones.”
König’s hands grasp yours and bring them to his chest. You look at his body, turning your head away to gaze at the ground. He lifts your chin to face him.
“How about you come with me? I’ll help you forget about your troubles.”
There was no room to protest as he grabbed your hand and led you to the large bed in the corner of the room. He sits on the bed and keeps you standing in front of him. His hands roam over the curve of your body. On the journey back he refrained from touching you so you could mourn your last life, but now- now you’re all his.
“Are your breasts sore?” He asks as his hands feel how swollen they’ve become after days away from your child.
You don’t answer, but just look him in the eyes. It’s clear to see that you’re too full to be comfortable. His hands squeeze slightly and the indigo fabric begins to darken from the milk he expressed. Thyra and Hilda got you all dressed up only for König to ruin you.
König grabs at the woven belt around your waist and slowly undoes it, pulling it towards him, and laying it on the bed beside him.
“Please stop, I’m a married woman.” You step back.
“You are. To me.” He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer.
“In the eyes of God, you’re not my husband.”
“God? Which one?” König teases as his hand runs down to rub your plump ass. “Here, in my land, you’re mine. Unless your old family comes to my shore and fights for you back…you’re mine.”
You just stare into his eyes and nod. Realistically, your husband will never come for you. He wouldn’t even know where to look. The memories of your life with him, with your children flashes before your eyes until a tap on your ass takes you out of your own mind.
“Let’s get you more comfortable.”  His voice is a soft whisper as he stands to get you naked in front of him. The last piece he grabs is your necklace, setting it down on top of your dress.
You stand naked. Your breasts are full and round. Body soft and curvy. A small white pearly bead of milk lingers on your left nipple. Between your legs is a soft patch of hair, he can’t wait to feel it rub against his face. All you can think about is how God will smite you for infidelity, you can only hope he understands.
“Look at you. Beautiful.”
König wraps his arms around you and places you gently on the bed, as if you were a delicate jewel he didn’t want to harm. He looks down at you as he finishes undressing. As he steps out of his pants, you can see his massive cock bounce, leaning down. He notices you looking at him, making him feel cocky.
“Big, ja?” He walks to you, parting your legs. “Let me show you how a real man fucks.”
Instantly, a blush forms on your face as you look at his blue eyes. His blonde hair falling forward as he looks down at you. You hate to admit that, compared to Callum, König is far more attractive. Your eyes travel all over his body, inspecting his tattoos as he moves on to the bed with you. He notices your gaze and smiles.
“It’s for my family name.” He whispers as he rests his large body next to yours.
“Oh.”
König moves his lips to yours, tenderly kissing you.  You don’t kiss back at first, and that's okay. He knows you’re nervous. His lips leave yours and travel down your neck, he lightly nips at your flesh. A small whimper leaves your lips causing him to smile.
Lifting his head for a moment, he moves his hand to your breast and squeezes. A fountain of milk begins to spurt out. König moves his mouth to your other nipple and begins to suck. He continues to squeeze the other to spray himself with it.
A mixture of relief and pleasure rushes over you. Callum has not touched your breasts since the milk came in, finding it repulsive. König acts like a starved man, as if your milk is the only thing that can save you. It’s…hot.
Milk begins to drip from the corner of his mouth, rolling down your breast. He slowly pulls away, licking his lips. “So sweet.”
König licks in between your breasts and over the other, cleaning up the mess he’s made. His hand slowly trails down your body and touches your pussy. The feeling of your wet folds between your fat pussy lips drives him wild.
“I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside of you.” He growls as his lips kiss up your neck.
König moves his body between your legs, running his hands from your breasts down to your hips. He brushes his hair back and out of his face with one hand as he presses his cock against your entrance. You gaze up at him before he moves his hips forward.
“Wait.”
His eyes move to your eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I- I can’t. My husband—” You were cut off by the euphoric sensation of meaty cock being shoved into your tight little cunt. A moan spills from your lips as your eyes go wide.
König grins looking at your reaction. He leans over your body to kiss the tip of your nose. “I am your husband now. Don’t forget that.” The words leave his lips as he slowly shoves the rest of his cock into you.
Your nails dig into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut. König looks at your face, your mouth hanging open and eyebrows pinched together. His hips slowly pull back before pushing back into you slowly; enjoying the look on your face as he does. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls away.
“My perfect queen.”
He grabs your hips, pulling your rear up slightly off the bed as he bucks forward into your tiny cunt. Your back is arched as his fingers dig into your ass. Loud moans leave your lips, loud enough people passing the home can hear the two of you.
“König, I- it’s too much.” You feel a tingle run over your body as a heavy pressure builds in your core.
He realizes that you’re about to cum, “beg for it.”
“For what?”
“To cum.”
“I- I can’t.” You feel shameful. Shame for having sex with someone other than Callum and shame for feeling this pleasure. You’ve always been taught to not give into this type of lust.
“It’s okay to let go.” He whispers in your ear as he leans over you, his arms on either side of your head. His lips meet yours, pushing his tongue past your lips. You open your mouth accepting him in as you mewl pathetically.
You turn your head away, desperately begging. “Please…harder.”
He grabs your head and forces his tongue back into your mouth. Moans leave your lips into his mouth as your legs tremble around his waist. His kisses begin to trail to your cheek and down your jawline as he feels your walls flutter around his cock.
“There you go.” His kisses travel down to your breasts.
König pulls out and stands from the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you to him. His arms wrap around you and hold you up. One arm holds you tightly to his body as the other reaches down to line himself up with you. He pushes forward while lowering you slightly. A groan leaves his lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders.
His fingers grasping the supply flesh of your ass as his hips thrust into you; your tight little cunt squeezes his cock as he bounces you on his length. The lustful daze you’re in makes you gaze up at him as if you’re in love. The sound of your wet pussy and little pitiful sounds leaves your lips mixing. König glances down to your breasts bouncing. Everything is just perfect.
“Y/n…” He groans as his cock pulses, face scrunching with pleasure.
The next morning you take up to an empty bed. You rub your eyes and stretch, slowly stepping out of the bed. That’s when you noticed König sitting nude and watching you with a smile. Your eyes travel along his body before meeting his eyes, trying to sit in a way that conceals your body.
“Don’t try to hide your beauty, Liebling. It’s just us here.” He stands and walks over to you, caressing your face. Your braid is barely together and face flushed with an afterglow from last night’s activities.
“We have a long day ahead of us. You’re going to be introduced to my people as their new queen. They will be astonished at your beauty.”
You look into his eyes and nod. There is still a lingering sadness in your eyes, he is aware you miss your old life. It will take time for you to move on, but he knows you’ll be happier here with him. No longer are you poor and working the fields. Now you’re a queen.
Part 3
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crookedteethed · 5 months ago
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HE'S my thing | r.c.
Pairing: (older) Bestfriend's Dad Rafe! x Fem!reader
Summary: You ended things with your best friend's father, but does anything ever truly end?
Warnings: 18+ Semi-public sex (p in v), cursing, cheating in the next room, age gap, Fuckboy!Rafe, angst, usage of "little girl" and 'brat', manhandling, choking
A/N: Barely proofread. Also, thank you for all the love and support on part one!!
Part One
Word Count: 2.8k
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"Fuck, Marry, Kill: Mr. Thornton, Mr. Kelce, or Mr. Barry." Maribella had asked you.
You pulled your tanning reflector away from your face to look at your potential candidates.
You and Marble were sunbathing by the pool at Tanny Hill when suddenly, guests began to slowly appear. Then someone started playing music from the speakers, the backyard string lights turned on, and suddenly the grill started crackling with fire.
"Daddy must be throwing one of his summer barbeques." Maribella had hummed.
You observed the three older men, all wearing colorful floral swim trunks, reminiscing about the "good old days" before they had children and wives, unaware that you and Maribella were sizing them up.
Fuck, Marry, Kill.
It was a simple question-and-answer game that you and Maribella often played when you were bored with strangers on the street or celebrity men whom you'd fancy, never with the men in your actual lives.
"Let's see." you elongated. "I'd fuck Mr. Barry, Marry Mr. Thornton, and Kill Mr. Kelce."
"Ouch." Maribella laughs.
"Sorry, Kelce." You shrugged, laughing along with your friend. "What about you?" You asked.
Like you, Maribella paused to observe the men, thus concluding: "None of them. They're all old and have beer belly's."   
"Then why'd you ask me?" you said in disbelief.
"Because." She said snobbishly, "I was testing you. Y'know, it's unhealthy for young girls to be attracted to such old men? Unhealthy."
You rolled your eyes, bringing your tanning reflector back to your face.
Ever since you'd told Maribella that you'd slept with her father, Mr. Cameron, she'd been subtly throwing slick remarks on her disdain for your taste in older men. 
Though she claimed she wasn't upset about you sleeping with Mr. Cameron, you can still sense her animosity toward the situation, which is why you never responded when she made a snide remark.
"Oh, look, it's my dad and his latest bitch he'd gotten from the pound." Maribella snide, and in a timely manner you watched as Rafe and his latest "Bitch" walked through the sliding patio doors.
Rafe had one of those cocky ass grins on his face, the one he would flash to you after cumming deeply inside you without wearing a condom, or the type of snarky grin he would show after whispering something promiscuous in your ear.
The bitch--woman who'd he been talking to appeared to be roughly around his age--maybe a little older, blond, and gangling looking. If you hadn't known The Camerons for so long, you would have assumed this woman was Rafe's wife and Maribella's mother.
You scoffed. "God, I thought there was an age limited when it came to being a slut." you laughed, causing Maribella to laugh along with you.
The woman also laughs, but it's because of something Rafe had whispered in her ear. The tint of your sunglasses had blurred the exact movement of Rafe's plush lips, but you assume he said something along the lines of sweet nothings from Rafe Cameron.
Surely, Maribella hadn't known that you ended things with her father just over a week ago, so she hadn't known just how furious you'd been to see Rafe with another woman. 
So quickly, just like that, he'd forgotten about you, just like you hadn't been the "tightest cunt" he claimed to ever be in. And not to mention, he hadn't even looked at you or glanced your way since the barbecue began. 
"I'm going to be sick." You said.
"You too?" Maribella asked.
You got up from your lounge chair with no plan in mind; you didn't even know where you were going until you found yourself staring angrily at Rafe in front of the grill. 
He'd been flipping over a barbecue rib with a pair of tongs, the blond woman clinging to his back with her chin laying on his shoulders and her arms wrapped around his body.
Yuck. 
Rafe had been wearing one of those comical aprons. His had an image of an animated woman with a coke bottle figure. Though it looked ridiculous on him, you couldn't help but keep staring at his biceps that poked out from the side of the apron, and of course, he'd been in a muscle tee so that you could see just a bit of his nipple peeking to the public, fuck.
"Oh, baby, is this your daughter you told me so much about?" The woman had smiled at you.
You scoff.
It was condescending in how the woman had addressed you; it was how she had called Rafe baby; she'd said it like they'd been together for years. 
And it was how effortlessly beautiful she was. She looked like the type of woman Rafe would go for, prose and expensive-looking. 
It was also how she'd mistaken you for Rafe's daughter rather than for what you were: the tightest cunt Rafe had ever been in.
Rafe peered at you for a quick moment, flipping over another rib.
"Uh, no, she's one of my daughter's friends." Rafe said, his demeanor starting to change to cold and stern. "The foods not done yet, kid." He swated you away.
You scoff again, he knows you're not here to talk about the food. And who does he think he is calling you that, kid, tsk.
You weren't a kid when you could take all 9 inches of him, back then you were a "good girl."
"Rafe--Mr. Cameron, Can we talk? In private? It's about Maribella." You lied.
He barely looked at you as he spoke, "Can't it wait for later, I'm busy?”
"It's important."
"I don't know, baby, if it's about your daughter, you should see what she wants, I can look after the grill." The woman said.
With a look of disdain, you looked at the blonde woman, but had it not been for her, Rafe would not have listened. Just as Rafe was about to remove his apron, the woman seized his jaw and pulled him into a kiss.
In a moment of unawareness, your hand inadvertently swept across the small glass bowl of barbecue sauce, unintentionally shattering the glass and causing some of the sauce to spill onto the women's Prada sandals.
"Oops." You shrug, storming off into the house, in the mitts, you glanced at Maribella, you were thankful she'd been resting with her eyes close and had her earbuds in.
You felt Rafe trailing behind you hot, the sound of his sandals clucking on the ground being the only thing you can focus on.
You attempt to rapidly close the sliding patio door before he could reach you, but it was too late, Rafe had caught onto the door.
"You're really childish, Y/N, you know that?" he spats.
You sped walked through the vacant house, no route in mind.
"Do you hear me little girl?" Rafe sternly says, as if he were talking to Maribella.
Suddenly, you felt the piercing sensation of Rafe's grip on your wrist, and your body being jerked. "Hey--Listen to me when I'm speaking to you."
Under Rafe's grip, you'd been in his mercy, as you looked up into angry eyes.
"Is there a reason why you're acting like such a brat?"
"It just doesn't make sense." You said, your voice shaky from the sound of the lump forming in your throat. "What does she have that I don't? A good credit score, a stable job?"
you struggle to get out of Rafe's hold, but his grip on you was too tight.
"Need I remind me you that you ended things with me?" Rafe gritted.
"But I didn't expect you to move on so quickly!" You shouted. " Did I mean nothing to you?"
Rafe squeezed your wrist, coming closer to your face. "Lower your tone when you're talking to me little girl."
"Fuck you." you sniffled, tears running down your cheeks. You didn't mean to say it, but it was in the heat of the moment, and you were angry.
Rafe's eyes grew darker, and his face had grown angrier, and just by the way he roughly dragged you through the house, you knew you had fucked up.
"Rafe! You're hurting me!" you cried, as he dragged you up the stairs.
"Shut up!" He spat at you. "Of all the nice things I've done for you in the past, this is what I get? A fuck you? 'Dad, Y/n has a flat tire but doesn't have the money for a new one.' 'Dad, Y/n is $100 short on her rent this month.' " Rafe mocked his daughter.
"I'm the one that let your pouge ass even come near here and my daughter, but fuck me, right?" he said.
As Rafe dragged you onto his master bedroom, locking the doors behind him, you felt the tears spilling from your eyes because of how bad you felt remembering all the other ways Mr. Cameron had helped you that hadn't been sexual.
Rafe had pushed you onto the bed, grumbling to himself as he started untying his apron, you watched him with wide eyes as he paced.
"What are you going to do to me?" you squeaked.
"I'm going to fuck some sense into you, because who the hell do you think you are speaking to me like that?" he spat.
"Fuck you." He mocked, grumbling to himself.
And before you knew it, Rafe grabbed the back of your head and his lips had angrily crashed into your tear soaked ones.
As your lips parted, the salty taste of your tears mixed with the sweetness of Rafe's kiss. It was a kiss born of anger and passion, a kiss that set your skin ablaze.
Rafe's hands moved deftly, untangling the knot of your bikini top. Your breasts, full and heavy, spilled free.
Rafe's touch was both urgent and tender, a contradiction that mirrored the storm of emotions swirling within you both.
As Rafe's lips trailed down your neck, you felt a shiver run through your body, a sensation that was both thrilling and comforting. It was as if all your senses had come alive, each one crying out for more.
As Rafe kissed your neck, his hands played with the hem of your bikini bottom, his fingers tempting to touch your most prized possession.
"Rafe, I need it." You whined, as he put your hand in your bikini bottoms, using his palm to cup your wet heat. "I need you."
Not long after, Rafe's hand slipped out of your bottoms. He was now unbuckling the belt to his shorts and pulling down his pants and briefs.
Rafe didn't even bother to pull your bikini bottoms down before pushing all 9 inches into your cunt; he fucked you through the makeshift opening he made by hooking his fingers through the crotch of your bottom. 
Rafe's thrusts were urgent and deep, causing you to yelp at the bitter sweet intrusion.
Usually Rafe was slow with the first couple of strokes inside of you--so your cunt could accommodate to his size--but today he was merciless.
Because of the wetness of your cunt, Rafe's cock had easily slipped in and out of you, but to you each thrust felt like a burning sting.
Nonetheless, You moaned as he filled you, your hands grasping at his back, pulling him closer and closer.
Rafe cerulean eyes never left yours--if you could describe the look on his face, you would describe it as a look of hatred, but as you looked down to where your bodies connected--the slick that coated yours and his sex organs--this wasn't hatred. So what was it?
You called out his name in pleasure.
The makeshift opening in your bikini bottoms stretched to accommodate his thickness, the thin fabric digging into your skin as he pounded into you. With each thrust, he pushed your body further into his soft bedsheets. With each thrust he pushed you further into pure bliss.
"This is why I don't fuck with young girls." Rafe muttered. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he sought to go even deeper.
"You all are too needy and in for it because of the daddy issues." He said under his breath. Then suddenly, as if it was used for leverage, Rafe's hand clasped around your throat; your mouth had formed the shape of an '0'.
As his pace quickened, your breath quickened too, short gasps escaping your lips.
Rafe's mouth had been inches away from yours; you arched your back just enough to hover over his plush lips, and you sucked in his breath as his grip tightened around your gullet. 
Rafe kissed you, his tongue swiping the inside of your mouth.
The sensation of being so full, of being taken with such urgency, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You knew this encounter was reckless, but the thrill of it only added to your arousal. You wanted this—needed this—and as Rafe's thrusts became more frenzied, you knew he was close.
And just by the way your cunt had fluttered around his length, you knew that you were close too.
And then, just as you gone to moan, you heard a knock at Rafe's door.
"Sweetheart? Are you in there?"
It was her.
Rafe's hand--the one clasped around your throat, now covered your mouth.
His cock had faltered inside of you once he heard the sound of her voice, but he kept fucking you anyway.
"Uh-yeah, babe, I'm just taking a break from the party." He said, his eyes penetrating through your skull; his voice sounded as if he weren't penetrating through your cunt. 
"Oh, ok. Just telling you the ribs are done, should I put the hot dogs on next?" She asked, clueless about her boyfriend fucking his daughter's best friend. 
You found yourself enjoying how fucked up this was--how satisfying it was to know that Rafe was fucking you and not her right now.
"Yeah--shit--" involuntarily, your cunt had squeezed Rafe's length. "Fuck. Y-yeah do that." Rafe said. 
"Or maybe I can join you? "Take a break" from the party together?" The woman had said seductively, causing you to roll your eyes at her pass at Rafe. 
"Say the word, Y/N." Rafe whispered. "Say the word and I can have her gone."
You had hoped the room had been soundproof from the way Rafe pace had quickened. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, a testament to the intensity of your passion.
You moaned loudly, but it had been muffled by Rafe's palm. Your nails digged into his shoulders as you matched his rhythm.
"Baby?" The woman said.
Your breath quickened as you neared your peak, Rafe eyes never leaving yours. "Say the word." he mouthed.
Fuck did you want Rafe, fuck did you want him so bad.
But Rafe wasn't supposed to be "Rafe" to you; he was supposed to be Mr. Cameron.
And Mr. Cameron wasn't supposed to be fucking you. 
You both had crossed a line, and there was nothing more to your relationship than what was behind that line. No matter how much you daydreamt about it, this--you and Rafe together--could never be a thing.
With a final, powerful thrust, you'd reached your climax. Shortly after, Rafe had reached his own, his body tensing as he filled your cunt with his release. 
You could feel his warmth inside you, a satisfying sensation that left you breathless and wanting more and, more evidently, filled with dread.
As he slowly withdrew, you could feel his length slide out of you, leaving you with a delicious emptiness that only he could fill.
When Rafe realized you weren't going to tell him to tell her to leave, he made a face at you, a face that said- if you didn't know any better- he was disappointed by your choice. 
"Baby, are you alright in there?" The woman said. 
"Yeah, could you, could you give me a moment?" Rafe had asked her, and shortly after, you heard the obnoxious flapping of her Prada sandals flapping away.
Rafe got himself situated before helping you. 
He tied your bikini top back to its place and your bikini bottoms.
And then gotten a warm towel and wiped the dried tears on your cheeks, and then he wiped away the remainder of his and your cum that slid down your thighs. 
You kind of just sat there with your head looking at your lap, trying to avoid Rafe's gaze.
"Will you stay for the rest of the barbecue?" Rafe asked. I would really appreciate it if you did." 
Rafe had waited for you to say something, but you never did. When he realized you weren't going to say anything, he had nothing to say himself, as he figured that it was officially over between you two, and what more can you say once you've reached the end of something? 
Tag list- @nemesyaaa @theeternaloptimistt @xcinnamonmalfoyx @starkeysbebe 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
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osachiyo · 2 years ago
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☆ BABY MAKIN'! ☆
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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ VARIOUS GENSHIN MEN X FEM! READER
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ CHARACTERS INCLUDED! Al-haitham, Zhongli, Diluc, Xiao, Childe
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ CONTENT WARNINGS! Breeding, explicit smut, hair pulling, marking, choking, petnames, mirror sex, feral men, belly bulge, overstimulation etc
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
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AL-HAITHAM
You jolted when Al-haitham thrusted up into you again, making you lean your head limp on his shoulder as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. He had you in a full- nelson in front of a huge mirror, making you watch while he abused your puffy little cunt. His strong arms were hooked under your knees, pushing your legs back almost to your bouncing breasts as he plunged thick girth as deep as it could go. He knew it wasn't the best position for trying and making a baby but he didn't mind too much, not when you look so fucking delicious taking his cock like this. "Rub yourself for me, play with that pretty clit," Al-haitham grunted, now biting your earlobe. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as you complied to his demand, the knot in your stomach too close to snapping in half. You squealed when Al-haitham thrusted into you faster, close to reaching his peak as he ordered you to rub yourself faster, harder. Your jaw slacked open when you finally reached your breaking point, gushing all over Al-haithams cock. He moaned out from the tightness, releasing his thick load into you, filling you with his warmth. You both panted while trying to catch your breath, until he smirked and spoke into your ear--
"Ready for round two?"
ZHONGLI
You didn't know too much about Dragon heats or ruts but that's okay, you didn't have to. Not when you were too busy getting your guts re-arranged by Zhongli. Your legs were hiked over his shoulders as he rutted into the heat of your wet cunt, making an obscene noise every time he slammed his hips against yours. But even while absolutely destroying your cunt, he held your hand gently, intertwining his fingers with your much delicate and smaller ones as he panted out words of encouragement and praise that had you creaming around his cock even more. He could see a bulge appearing in your stomach every time he thrusted into your welcoming cunt, making him groan with a need to breed, breed and breed. "Gonna make you a mommy, dear. Would you l-like- fuck- that? Yeah?" You gasped and threw your head back when he palmed the bulge in your tummy, god he was so big. He leaned in close to your ear, a low growl forming in his throat as his grip on you tightened-
"Can't wait to fill you up and make you my little wife. You're going to carry my children like the good little wife you are, aren't you?"
DILUC
You were taking care of Klee for the day, as everyone else was busy with their own work and you just happened to be free! Klee also loved you a lot, you were just amazing to play with, bless that child. But what you didn't notice is Diluc's burning gaze on you as you interacted with the sweet little girl. You'd make a wonderful mother, really.
That's why you were pushed into a mating-press that night, the candlelight illuminating your soft figure against Diluc's big and built one. He pinned your legs against your chest, making it hard to breathe and revealing your sopping cunt to him, he could see everything. You whined when he slid his hardened cock over your folds, coating himself with your sweet essence. He pulled back slightly and lined his blunt head with your clenching and unclenching entrance, pushing only the head in and tipping his head back with a low groan. He waited a few moments then buried himself to the hilt, making you gasp and clench his cock so fucking deliciously, he could almost taste his orgasm coming already. But he had to wait, he needed you to cum first. He reached a hand down to play with your swollen clit while pounding into you-
"Cum for me, baby, won't you? 'need you to cum right fucking now, 'gonna cream on this cock so nicely, yeah?"
XIAO
You gripped the sheets tighter when Xiao thrusted into you roughly, his hips smacking against your ass. A hand splayed across your lower back, arching it even further as you babbled nonsense about how it was too much- or he was gonna break you. It was clear he couldn't hear you, not when your pussy was gripping his cock so fucking nicely. He had to claim you as his. He had to mold your little cunt to the shape of his cock. What better way to mark you than stuff you with his cum? He groaned at the thought of you walking around with a swollen belly, carrying his children. You vaguely remember Zhongli warning you about Xiao's ruts. You shouldn't have underestimated how fucking needy he could get. He was too out of it to hear your muffled cries and begs for him to slow down. He needed to breed you. Eventually your knees gave out and you fell on the mattress, body still bouncing upwards from the yaksha's brutal thrusts.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck- you're mine. All fucking mine. You got that? I'm gonna stuff you full, ju- agh!- just you fucking wait."
CHILDE
You squealed when Childe shoved his cock back into your sopping, overstimulated hole. He hooked his hands under your knees and pushed them all the way back, putting all of his bodyweight on your poor, writhing form as your eyes rolled back. You had just come down from an orgasm when Childe started again. He was determined to make you a mommy, fill you up so much that it overflows. Your stomach had a small bulge from the sheer amount of cum this man had fucked into you. But alas, he still wasn't satisfied. He had been fucking you for so long that a white ring had formed on his cock, your cunt milking him for all his worth. His lips formed a crazed grin as he loomed over your almost passed-out form.
"Don't tell me you're already tired, pretty girl. We still have a long way to go."
AYATO
When you brought up the subject of having a child to Ayato, he was over the moon. You knew you both would be great parents. He had taken you out that day. He took a day off of work to take you around Inazuma and have a great time. But once you got home, let's just say things...escalated.
"Can't- can't take more, please- Ayato!" You sobbed out, fat tears rolling down your swollen cheeks as Ayato only tsked, slapping your ass harshly as he continued thrusting into your abused and battered cunt. You buried your face into the pillow, tears staining the pillowcase. Ayato smirked and pulled your head back by your hair while delivering a particularly hard thrust, shushing your cries of pain and pleasure as he smoothed a gloved hand down your arched back then- slap! His hand collided with the soft flesh of your ass, the stinging pain ripping another orgasm out of you while you shook violently in your husband's hold. Your cunt creamed all over his cock, making him grunt and thrust into you harder, chasing his own release.
"Fuck, you look so pretty like this, darl'. Gonna give you so much of my cum that you'll feel empty without it. Would you like that, slut?"
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©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡
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