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novaursa · 1 month

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Echoes of a Promise

- Summary: When Prince Daemon Targaryen challenged Ser Gwayne Hightower during the tourney, that King Viserys I orginazed for birth of his heir, it was not just to humiliate and spite Otto. It was because of you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower (with one-sided Daemon Targaryen)

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister or Rhaenyra and is bonded with dragon Silverwing. These events take place years before Skyfall. For more parts and to read this in a chronological order check my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Or you can consider it to be part just for itself.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 614

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The air is filled with the excitement and anticipation of the tournament, with the roar of the crowd echoing across the field. The day is bright, though the tension in the air hangs like a storm waiting to break. You sit in the royal box, your back straight as you watch the events unfold below. Beside you, your sister Rhaenyra leans forward, her gold and silver hair catching the sunlight, while Alicent, ever composed, keeps a more demure posture. Despite the noise around you, there's an undercurrent of unease, an undercurrent you can feel but cannot name.

You try to focus on the jousts, but your mind keeps drifting. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, yet you cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss. It could be the knowledge that your mother, Queen Aemma, is in labor, or perhaps it's the weight of expectation that seems to press down on you from all sides. The youngest princess, soon to be the sister to an heir, the girl bonded to Silverwing, you feel the eyes of the realm upon you.

Your gaze shifts to Ser Gwayne Hightower, who sits on his horse at the end of the lists, resplendent in his armor. You can feel his eyes on you, and when you glance at him, he offers a small, shy smile. There's something earnest about him, something that makes your heart flutter just slightly. You return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through you despite the cool breeze.

Rhaenyra notices your exchange and leans closer, a teasing smile on her lips. "Ser Gwayne seems quite taken with you, sister."

You give her a playful nudge. "He is a noble knight. It would be unbecoming of him not to show favor to his princess."

Alicent, always the voice of reason, adds softly, "But it is clear my brother’s favor is more than just courtly manners. Perhaps you should acknowledge it."

You cast another glance at Gwayne, who has returned his attention to the field, but not before stealing one more look your way. There is a sincerity in his eyes that you find difficult to ignore. Your heart is conflicted, though you try to push the thoughts aside. After all, you are a princess of the realm, and such things are never simple.

But before you can ponder further, the crowd erupts into cheers and gasps. The herald's voice rings out, announcing the next joust. "Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, against Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince."

The shift in atmosphere is palpable. You feel it immediately, the tension growing thick and heavy, like the humidity before a storm. Your heart skips a beat as you see Daemon enter the lists, his presence commanding, his dark violet eyes scanning the crowd before landing on you. He doesn't smile, but the look he gives you is intense, a mixture of challenge and something else you can't quite place.

"He’s chosen Ser Gwayne," Alicent whispers, her voice laced with concern for her brother.

"To spite Lord Otto, no doubt," Rhaenyra mutters, her brows furrowing.

But you know better. Daemon's choice is not just to slight his old nemesis, the Hand of the King. No, this is a message, one meant for you. Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize the implications. Daemon is many things—unpredictable, dangerous, and bold. He has never hidden his affection for you, though it is often veiled in the guise of familial care. But there’s always been more, something unspoken between you two, something that now rears its head in the most public of arenas.

As the joust begins, you watch with bated breath. The crowd roars as the two knights charge at each other, lances poised to strike. The clash is fierce, the sound of splintering wood echoing across the field. Gwayne holds his own against Daemon, and for a moment, you dare to hope. But Daemon is a seasoned warrior, and his determination today is fueled by more than just a desire to win.

They go for another round, and this time, Daemon’s lance strikes true. It shatters against Gwayne’s shield, the force of the blow unseating him. Gwayne crashes to the ground, the breath knocked out of him, and the crowd gasps. You instinctively rise from your seat, hands clutching the railing in front of you.

"Y/N," Rhaenyra says softly, reaching out to calm you, but you barely hear her.

Your eyes are locked on Gwayne as he struggles to rise, his pride wounded as much as his body. Daemon circles him like a predator, his horse prancing, as if waiting to see if Gwayne will stand again. When Gwayne finally manages to get to his feet, Daemon removes his helmet, letting his silver hair spill out, and then he dismounts.

He strides over to Gwayne, and the two exchange words you cannot hear from this distance. But you see the way Daemon’s eyes flick up to the royal box, to you, and then back to Gwayne. Whatever he says is enough to make Gwayne’s expression harden, though he does not retaliate. Gwayne simply bows his head slightly, acknowledging the defeat, and then steps back.

Daemon, satisfied, returns to his horse, but not before casting you another look. This time, there’s a smirk on his lips, one that makes your blood boil. He knows exactly what he’s done, and the worst part is that you do too. He’s made his statement, loud and clear, in front of all the lords and ladies of the realm. Daemon Targaryen does not intend to step aside, and anyone who seeks to win your favor will have to contend with him first.

As Daemon rides off, victorious, your eyes drift back to Gwayne. He stands tall, despite the defeat, and when he finally looks up at you, there is no shame in his expression. Only determination, and something else—hope, perhaps? A promise that he will not give up so easily.

You sink back into your seat, your heart a tangle of emotions. Rhaenyra gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and Alicent offers you a small, understanding smile. But your mind is elsewhere, torn between the earnest affection of a young knight and the dangerous allure of a rogue prince.

As the dust settles from the tilt between Daemon and Gwayne, Otto Hightower watches with a deepening frown, his knuckles whitening as he grips the armrest of his chair. He had seen the intent in Daemon's eyes from the moment he chose Gwayne as his opponent. The tilt had been more than just a joust—it was a pointed act, an attempt to not only humiliate Otto but to endanger his son and, by extension, challenge Otto's influence in the court. Otto's gaze shifts from the field back to the royal box where you sit, and he notices the anxiety in your eyes as you watch Gwayne stand tall despite his defeat.

Otto's concern is not only for his son's welfare but also for the implications of Daemon's reckless actions. He can see how the prince's antics could destabilize everything he has worked for, and that thought is enough to push him into action. With a composed but determined stride, Otto makes his way to King Viserys, who sits at the center of the royal box, his expression a mixture of concern and detachment as he watches the aftermath of the joust.

"Your Grace," Otto begins, bowing slightly before taking his place at Viserys' side. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an undercurrent of urgency in his tone. "I cannot help but express my concern over Prince Daemon’s conduct. Choosing my son as his opponent was not merely a matter of sport—it was a deliberate act of provocation."

Viserys sighs, his gaze still fixed on the field. "Daemon is... spirited," he replies, attempting to sound nonchalant, though there's a hint of weariness in his voice. "You know how he is, Otto. He has always had a flair for the dramatic."

"Spirited?" Otto repeats, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice. "Your Grace, this was not mere dramatics. This was a calculated attempt to undermine the order of things. My son’s life was endangered, not out of competition, but out of spite."

Viserys finally turns to look at Otto, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You see threats where there are none, Lord Hightower. Daemon is my brother; he would not harm a fellow knight without reason. Gwayne is skilled, and I am sure Daemon respected that."

Otto suppresses a sigh, knowing that Viserys is, as always, reluctant to see the worst in his brother. "Your Grace, the prince's intentions were clear. He seeks to disrupt, to sow discord, and he has taken a particular interest in your youngest daughter, as you well know."

Viserys' expression hardens at the mention of you, but before he can respond, Otto seizes the opportunity to press his point. "I have proposed a match before, between Y/N and my son, Gwayne. He is a noble knight, honorable and devoted to the realm, and most importantly, he cares deeply for your daughter. Such a match would not only strengthen ties between our houses but also protect the princess from the whims of Prince Daemon."

Viserys shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not pleased with the direction of the conversation. "I am aware of your proposal, Otto, but I do not see the need to rush into any such arrangement. Y/N is still young, and I would not have her feel pressured into a marriage, especially one so clearly driven by political concerns.

"Your Grace," Otto insists, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, "this is not just about politics. It is about ensuring the stability of your realm, the safety of your daughter. Daemon is unpredictable, and his interest in Y/N is far from innocent. A match with Gwayne would provide her with the protection of an honorable man, a knight who would be devoted to her above all else."

Viserys' face tightens with frustration. "Daemon is my brother, Otto. He may be reckless, but he is no danger to Y/N. And as for Gwayne, I have no doubt of his virtues, but I will not be pushed into making decisions about my daughter's future based on fear and speculation."

Otto opens his mouth to argue further, but at that moment, a servant approaches the king, bowing deeply before leaning in to speak quietly into his ear. Whatever the servant says causes Viserys' expression to change instantly, the frustration and weariness replaced by a deep concern, and something close to dread.

"Your Grace," the servant says, just loud enough for Otto to catch the words, "I bring word from the Maester. The Queen's labor... it is not progressing well. The Maester has requested your presence."

Viserys pales, his attention immediately drawn away from the tournament and all other matters. The color drains from his face as the weight of the situation dawns on him. He rises from his seat, barely acknowledging Otto’s presence now.

"Excuse me, Otto," Viserys says, his voice strained, "I must attend to the Queen."

Otto watches as Viserys departs, a feeling of unease settling over him. The king’s concerns about Aemma are legitimate, of course, but Otto cannot help but feel that the danger Daemon represents is just as pressing. Yet, with Viserys now preoccupied, there is little more Otto can do at this moment. He watches the king hurry away, his thoughts a storm of worry and calculation.

As he returns his gaze to the field, where the tournament continues with all its noise and pageantry, Otto’s mind races. He knows that Daemon’s influence over his brother and his growing interest in you are threats that cannot be ignored. And while Viserys may not see the urgency, Otto knows that he must find a way to protect both his son and the realm. But for now, with the shadow of the Queen’s labor hanging over them all, any further plans will have to wait.

Otto Hightower may be forced to wait, but he will not forget.

The gardens are quiet, bathed in the soft silver light of the moon. The air is cool, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers, yet you find no comfort in their fragrance. Your heart is heavy, weighed down by grief that seems too vast to bear. The funeral had been a somber affair, the pyres of your mother and brother burning brightly against the darkening sky, and now, even the flames have died, leaving only ashes and silence.

You wander through the gardens, seeking solitude, though the emptiness only magnifies your sorrow. The night is still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, and your thoughts are consumed by the images of your mother, Queen Aemma, and your brother, Baelon, who had lived but a single day. The grief presses down on you, almost suffocating in its intensity. You find yourself sinking onto a stone bench beneath a large, ancient tree, its branches reaching out like arms meant to offer comfort, but even nature seems distant tonight.

You barely notice the sound of footsteps on the gravel path until they draw close. When you finally look up, you see Gwayne Hightower approaching, his expression one of deep concern and sorrow. His presence, though unexpected, stirs something within you—an odd mixture of relief and anxiety. He slows as he nears, his armor glinting softly in the moonlight, but there’s nothing imposing about him now. His eyes, warm and kind, are fixed on you, offering a silent question.

With a quiet nod, you dismiss the Kingsguard who stands at a respectful distance, signaling that you wish for privacy. The knight bows and steps away, leaving you alone with Gwayne in the tranquil, shadowed gardens.

"Princess," Gwayne says softly as he reaches you, his voice gentle, laced with the same sorrow that you feel. "I hoped to find you… I thought you might need someone."

You look up at him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, and for a moment, you struggle to find your voice. When you finally speak, your words are choked with emotion. "They’re gone, Gwayne. My mother… my brother…"

He kneels beside you, taking your hands in his. His touch is warm, grounding you in the here and now, even as your heart aches with the loss. "I am so sorry, Y/N," he murmurs, his thumbs gently brushing over your knuckles. "I cannot imagine the pain you’re feeling, but know that you do not have to bear it alone."

You blink, a tear escaping to trace down your cheek. "But I am alone, Gwayne. Everyone I love… they keep leaving me." Your voice breaks, and you lower your head, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Gwayne’s hands tighten around yours, firm but tender, and he shifts to sit beside you on the bench. "You are not alone, not truly. I am here, Y/N. I will always be here for you, if you’ll let me."

There’s something in his voice, a quiet determination that draws your gaze back to him. You see the sincerity in his eyes, the deep, unwavering care he holds for you, and in that moment, a small part of your grief seems to lift, if only slightly. The loneliness that had seemed so overwhelming before begins to recede, replaced by a warmth that spreads through you, a connection that you hadn’t realized you needed so desperately.

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. The silence between you is no longer heavy with sorrow but filled with something softer, more comforting. After a moment, Gwayne speaks again, his voice low and earnest. "I promise you, Y/N, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are never alone. One day, I will marry you, and I will protect you, cherish you, for as long as I live."

His words catch you off guard, and you pull back slightly to look at him. "Marry me?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a hope you hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now.

"Yes," Gwayne says, his gaze never wavering. "I’ve cared for you for so long, and I know in my heart that you are the one I wish to spend my life with. I want to be by your side, to give you the happiness and security you deserve. I swear it."

Something inside you shifts, the despair you’ve been drowning in easing as you absorb the depth of his feelings. Without thinking, you reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "You are too kind, Gwayne," you murmur, your voice trembling. "I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly as if savoring the moment. "You deserve everything, Y/N," he says softly, opening his eyes to meet yours once more. "And I want to be the one to give it to you."

The sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, it’s all too much. You close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is tentative at first, testing the waters of this new intimacy. Gwayne responds immediately, his kiss gentle but insistent, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for as long as he can remember.

The kiss deepens, the grief and sorrow you’ve been carrying melding into a need for comfort, for connection. Gwayne’s hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as the heat between you grows. The world outside of this moment seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

He pulls back slightly, his breath ragged, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice hushed, as if he fears breaking the spell between you.

In response, you nod, your heart racing. "Yes," you whisper, the word barely audible, but full of the longing and need that has been building within you. "I need you, Gwayne. Please."

With a tenderness that takes your breath away, Gwayne begins to undress you, his hands careful and reverent as if you are something precious, something to be cherished. You mirror his actions, your fingers working to remove his armor, his tunic, until there is nothing between you but the cool night air.

When he finally moves over you, his touch is gentle, mindful of your inexperience. There’s a brief moment of hesitation, of adjustment, as your bodies join, but the discomfort quickly gives way to something deeper, more profound. Gwayne pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he waits for you to relax, to adjust to the newness of this intimacy.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You nod, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pull him closer. "Yes, Gwayne… don’t stop," you murmur, your breath hitching as pleasure begins to build, slowly at first, then with increasing intensity.

He kisses you again, and as your bodies find a rhythm, the world narrows down to the sensation of his touch, the warmth of his skin against yours, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. The urgency between you grows, the need to escape the pain of the world in the solace of each other’s arms, until it all culminates in a rush of pleasure that leaves you both breathless.

In the aftermath, as you lie together in the cool grass, Gwayne holds you close, his hand gently stroking your hair. "I will marry you, Y/N," he whispers, his voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. "I swear it, on my honor as a knight. We will be together, always."

You smile softly against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, by the warmth of his promise. "I believe you," you whisper back, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion finally begins to claim you.

But as the night deepens, as sleep takes hold, the cruel hand of fate begins to weave its own tapestry. Despite the promises made beneath the stars, despite the love you share in this stolen moment, you do not know that the future holds other plans, plans that will tear you from this place, from this man who has given you his heart.

For this promise of marriage, of a future together, will never come to be.

The days following the funeral passed in a haze of mourning, with the weight of loss still hanging heavily over the Red Keep. The atmosphere was somber, with everyone moving about with a quiet reverence, as though the very stones of the castle themselves had absorbed the grief of its inhabitants. Yet, amidst this solemnity, a tension was brewing, one that threatened to shatter the fragile peace.

Daemon Targaryen, ever restless and unpredictable, had spent those days watching, biding his time. He had seen the way Gwayne Hightower had looked at you during the funeral, the way his presence seemed to linger near yours. And while most would dismiss it as nothing more than the attentions of a knight to his princess, Daemon knew better. He could see through the thin veil of propriety to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

When he finally confronted Gwayne, it was in one of the shadowed courtyards of the Red Keep, a place where the light of day barely reached and where secrets were often exchanged in hushed tones. Gwayne was alone, having just finished sparring in the yard, his armor still gleaming with the sweat of exertion. He was unprepared for the sight of Daemon emerging from the shadows, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Ser Gwayne," Daemon called out, his voice deceptively casual. "You seem to have made yourself quite at home here in King's Landing. But then again, Hightowers always know how to make themselves comfortable, don’t they?"

Gwayne stiffened at the sound of Daemon’s voice, his hand instinctively moving to rest on the hilt of his sword. He turned to face the prince, his expression wary but resolute. "Prince Daemon," he greeted, his tone respectful but with an edge. "What brings you to this part of the Keep?"

Daemon strolled closer, his every movement calculated, as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. "I couldn’t help but notice your... persistent presence near my niece. After our last encounter at the lists, I thought you would have taken the hint to back off. But it seems Otto's son is either very brave or very foolish."

Gwayne’s jaw tightened, but he did not back down. "My intentions towards Princess Y/N are honorable, Prince Daemon. My feelings for her are genuine, and they have nothing to do with my father’s ambitions."

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, the amusement in them fading to something colder, more dangerous. "Is that so? I find it hard to believe that anything a Hightower does is not meticulously planned. You expect me to believe that your affections are purely coincidental, that they have nothing to do with your father’s desire to bind your house to the blood of dragons?"

Gwayne took a step forward, his hand still on his sword, but he made no move to draw it. "My feelings for the princess are my own, born out of respect and admiration, not out of any scheme. I care for her deeply, and I would never use her as a pawn in some political game."

"Respect and admiration," Daemon repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "How noble of you, Ser Gwayne. But tell me, what will you do when Viserys refuses to allow this match? When he sees your father’s hand behind it and denies your request? What then, noble knight?"

Gwayne’s resolve did not falter, though he could feel the weight of Daemon’s words pressing down on him. "If the king denies me, then so be it. But know this, Daemon—my feelings for Y/N will not change. I will still care for her, still protect her, with or without a marriage."

Daemon’s lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes were anything but amused. "You speak of protection, but what you fail to understand, Ser Gwayne, is that she doesn’t need protection from me. It is your interference that could bring her harm. Viserys may be blind to many things, but he is not blind to his brother’s intentions. You think you’re the better man, the safer choice, but you’re just as much a threat as any other suitor."

Gwayne’s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white, but he held his ground. "I would never harm her. And I will not be frightened away by your threats or your insinuations, Prince Daemon. If you truly care for her as you claim, you would understand that what matters most is her happiness. If I can give her that, then I will fight for it."

Daemon’s smile vanished, replaced by a hard, calculating look. "You think you can win against me, Ser Gwayne? You think your noble heart and chivalrous intentions will protect you from the realities of the court? You may have convinced yourself that your love is pure, but love in this world is rarely enough. Blood, power, and the will to seize it—that is what drives the fate of men."

The tension between them crackled in the air, a palpable thing that seemed to thrum with the promise of violence. Gwayne stared Daemon down, unflinching, his voice steady as he replied, "I may not have your power or your blood, Daemon, but I have something you don’t—a heart that beats for her, not for ambition. And that is something you will never understand."

For a moment, they stood in silence, two forces at an impasse, each unwilling to yield. Then, with a flicker of something akin to grudging respect in his eyes, Daemon broke the stare, stepping back. He let out a low, dark chuckle.

"Perhaps you’re right, Gwayne," he said, his tone lighter but still laced with danger. "Perhaps I don’t understand. But mark my words—the day will come when you’ll see that love alone is not enough. And when that day comes, I’ll be there, watching as your noble heart shatters."

With that, Daemon turned on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he walked away, leaving Gwayne standing in the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Gwayne’s hand slowly relaxed from his sword, but the tension remained, coiled tight in his muscles, in his mind.

He watched Daemon disappear into the darkness, his thoughts racing. Daemon’s words had been like barbs, digging into him, and though he had stood his ground, the doubts had been planted. Gwayne knew that his path would not be easy, that the forces arrayed against him were formidable. But his resolve had not wavered. If anything, the confrontation had only strengthened his determination.

As Gwayne turned to leave the courtyard, his thoughts returned to you—to the promise he had made, to the love he felt for you that had nothing to do with his father’s ambitions or the politics of the realm. No matter what Daemon or anyone else said, he would not give up. He would fight for you, for your happiness, no matter the cost.

But as he walked away, the words Daemon had left him with echoed in his mind, a dark omen that he could not shake. The day will come when you’ll see that love alone is not enough. Yet still, he would fight. Because for you, he would endure anything.

#house of the dragon #viserys targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #daemon targaryen #silverwing #game of thrones #gwayne x y/n #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne

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ihave-atummyache · 5 months

Text

you’re mine

han jisung one shot

stray kids smut

NSFW 18++

smut smut smut!! (i’ll put warning under the cut)

2.5k words

nsfw content: jealousy, fighting, name calling, mentions of reader slapping but they don’t make contact, manhandling, choking, gagging, dacryphilia, rough sex, fingering, degradation, nicknames, breeding kink, creampie (safe sex is the best sex), lowkey toxic jisung, hickeys, overstimulation errrrr i think thats all

"Are you happy with yourself?" Jisung's voice makes you roll your eyes and the clank of his keys on the table just makes you more annoyed. You shrug off your jacket and put it on the coat rack before heading towards the kitchen. You hear Jisung's footsteps following you close behind which just makes your annoyance burn more.

"So now you're ignoring me?" You usually love his voice, it often brings you immediate comfort but right now, it’s doing nothing but pissing you off more. You grab a water bottle from the fridge and crack it open, your back still turned to him.

"Answer me." His voice is commanding and you can't stop your annoyance from finally materializing. You slam your water bottle down on the counter, water sloshing out the top before whipping around to face him.

"Can you shut the fuck up? You're doing nothing but pissing me off more. You already ruined my night so just fuck. off." You nudge past him to walk towards your bedroom but he grabs your arm, pushing you against the kitchen island and slotting a leg between your's, preventing you from moving.

"Can you stop being a cunt for two seconds and listen to me?" His voice is full of venom and your mouth forms a surprised smile, your eyebrows practically in your hairline.

"So now I'm the cunt? Fuck you, Jisung," You spit before pushing him away from you. He grips your wrist again and you automatically bring a hand up to slap him but he catches your other wrist before you can make contact.

"So now you want to hit me? What did I do wrong? You were all over your friend, Hyunjin back there and now I'm the bad guy?!" he snarls at you and you narrow your eyes at him, your tongue running across your teeth.

"Our friend, Hyunjin, and you didn't have to fucking push him. Now all the boys and all my friends think you're fucking crazy, Jisung. Do you get that? All because you can't get over this stupid fucking insecurity of your's," you know you're hitting close to home but you honestly couldn't care less.

The two of you were at a party earlier, celebrating one of the boys' many awards and according to Jisung, you and Hyunjin had been getting a little too close. Sure he had his hand on your lower back and was leaning in and whispering to you but Jisung made it very clear that the two of you are not together.

The boys have heard the same thing many times from him. Any time anyone tries to associate the two of you, he is quick to deny the two of you being in a relationship, despite the two of you fucking for the past couple of months.

That being said, what's wrong with Hyunjin getting a little touchy? You're single. He's single. You're both hot. There's no problems there.

"I'm not insecure, y/n. You're fucking mine and I need to get that through your head and everyone else's. Nobody can touch you but me," he takes a step closer to you, his eyes dark and trained on yours. You gulp, holding his gaze.

"No. I'm not. You have made it very clear to everyone that we aren't together. You can't stake some claim on me as soon as someone else starts showing me attention. It isn't fair," you refute and his jaw clenches at your words. You're not wrong but he doesn't want to admit it.

He takes another step closer to you, his hand wraps around your jaw gently, forcing you to keep eye contact with him.

"Is that right, darling?" His words are husky and your gaze flickers down to his lips for a moment, only a few inches from yours before you meet his gaze again. You're like putty in his hands and you know it just as much as he does.

You hold his gaze for a few moments before his own eyes glance at your lips again then you make eye contact again. He finally breaks the silence when you don’t reply.

"I asked you a question, princess," his voice is soft but you can still since the anger beneath his words.

"I know. And you heard me the first time so I'm not repeating myself," you stand your ground, despite every fiber of your being telling you to fold. He chuckles, humorlessly, his breath fanning across your face.

"This little attitude is turning me on," his words catch you off guard, your eyes growing wide at the confession, "Is that your goal? You want me to fuck you until the only name you know is mine?" He asks, his thumb running across your bottom lip, testing just how angry you are with him.

He gently pushes his thumb against your mouth and you immediately part your lips, letting him push his thumb against your tongue. You let your lips close around him, sucking around the digit.

"Such a good girl, even when you're upset with me, aren't you?" His voice is low, husky and your eyes flutter closed as you suck on his thumb. He pulls his finger from your mouth, dragging it down your chin and neck, leaving a wet trail in it's wake. He settles his hand across your collarbone, fingers rubbing across the bone gently.

Jisung leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of your neck before letting his lips part and biting down on your pulse point, making you whimper out at the pain before his tongue soothes across the spot.

“J-Ji. No marks,” you breathe out and he replies by sucking down on another spot before he pulls his head from your neck and locks eyes with you again.

“You’re mine. I’ll do what I please with you. If I want to leave my mark on you, I will. Do you understand?” His tone is unlike one you have ever heard from him before and you swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly becoming dry before you nod.

His hand grabs your cheeks, pushing together and forcing your lips to pucker as he looks down on you.

“I asked you a question. When I speak to you, I expect you to speak back,” His jaw clenches again and you nod before stuttering out a quiet ‘yes’ then his lips are on your’s. His tongue makes it’s way into you mouth quickly and you moan around the messy kiss.

When he gets needy like this, his kisses are always messy. A mixture of spit and tongue and groping hands but you can’t help loving every fucking second. It’s so primal, purely controlled by your urge to rip each other’s clothes off. You reach your hands up to tangle into his hair but he quickly grabs both your wrists and pulls away from your lips.

“Turn around,” His voice is commanding but he barely gives you time to process the words before he’s using his grip on your wrists to turn you around. He places both your hands on the kitchen island, lightly running his finger tips up your arms until he reaches the straps of your dress on your shoulders.

“Keep your hands to yourself, baby. I’m still upset with you,” His voice is full of command and you lean forward, putting weight into your hands.

He steps closer to you, his erection pressing against your ass in the tight dress and all you can hear is the sound of both of your breathing and your own heart pounding in your ears. He slides one of the straps off your shoulder and places a kiss on the bare skin before doing the same to the other strap.

He pulls the dress down just enough for your breasts to fall out. His hands wrap around and grab each one of your tits, making a gasp fall from your lips as his cold hands make contact with your sensitive nipples.

He groans behind you, his hips rutting against your ass as his fingers begin to tweak your nipples. You reach one hand up to place on his over your boob but he quickly grabs your hand and slams it back onto the marble countertop.

“What did I say?”

He pinches your nipple a bit too hard, making you yelp when you don’t reply.

“T-to keep m-my hands to myself,” your voice is breathy as he continue to grind against your still covered ass.

“So you can be a good girl? Why do I have to be mean for you to behave for me?” Before you can reply to him, one of his hands leaves your exposed tits and he pushes his middle and ring finger into your mouth. He pushes further into your throat, making you gag.

“There you go,” His other hands finds your hair wrapping in the strands, before he pulls, making your head fall back onto his shoulder. Between the sting of his fingers in your hair and down your throat, your eyes start to water.

“Look so pretty for me. All for me. This is my mouth. This is my body. These are my tits and this,” his hand leaves your mouth, skillfully finding its way into your panties and pressing against your bare pussy, making you moan, “is my cunt. You belong to me, y/n. Get that through your thick fucking skull,” the underlying insult makes more tears spring to your eyes but it also makes more wetness gather on his fingers against your heat.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. It’s sad you think that anyone else can get you half as wet as I can, baby. You’re made for me,” he grunts into your ear before finally pushing a finger into you. Your eyes flutter closed, pushing the tears from your waterline and onto your cheeks.

He leans forward, licking the salty liquid from your cheek as he begins to slowly pump his finger in and out. He adds another quickly and speeds his fingers up inside of you. His other hand pushes your dress down more so it’s just a strip of fabric around your waist before he leans back slightly and wraps his hand around the back of your neck. He pushes you forward, pushing your chest against the island before he pulls his hand from you.

You hear his belt unbuckling behind you and you bite your lip in anticipation. You start to turn your head to look at him but his hand quickly returns, pushing your cheek against the cold counter.

You feel him pull your panties to the side before you can feel the head of his cock brushing against your pussy.

“You want me to fuck you now? Spoiled brat. This greedy pussy is practically begging me to push in,” his words are hoarse and you nod a few times before he pushes just the head of his cock in, making you slam your hand down on the counter top.

“Beg for it.” His words throw you off, your words getting caught in your throat.

“Please?” your voice isn’t much more than a whisper and you hear him chuckle behind you, continuing to rut just the head of his cock in and out of you.

“Oh come on. That was pathetic. I know you can do better than that baby,” you can hear the smile in his voice and his cocky tone just turns you on that much more.

“Please, Ji. Please fuck me. I want everyone to know I belong to you. Please, baby. Please. I’m being good. So good. I’ll keep being a good girl just please-” He cuts your ramble off by pushing his entire length into you, making you let out a much louder moan than you expected.

“Sound so pretty begging me to fuck you like that,” his voice can barely be heard because of him beginning to fuck you, hard. Your hips are digging into the edge of the counter every time he thrusts forwards and the sound of skin slapping is absolutely obscene.

He grabs the strip of fabric that your dress has become around your waist and uses it as leverage to fuck you harder. Every thrust in, he pulls you harder into him. Suddenly one of his hands reaches down and grips your panties, ripping them away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping echoes through the kitchen and you moan. You hear the fabric hit the floor as he speeds up his thrusts more.

“T-touch me. Please, baby. Please. Touch me please,” You’re rambling again and he chuckles, his hand wrapping around and rubbing circles on your clit.

“As you wish,” he lays his chest across your back and before you know it, you’re cumming. So hard that all you see is black, a scream leaving your lips.

Jisung pauses inside of you as you begin to shake from the intensity of your orgasm. What you don’t expect, is for him to start moving again. You squeal, pulling yourself further onto the counter, and away from him.

He quickly wraps a hand around your dress and pulls you back into him, burying his length back into you, making tears spring to your eyes.

“Stop. Fucking. Running.” Each word is punctuated by a deliberate and hard thrust into your pulsing cunt. His hand wraps around the front of your throat and pulls you up, pressing your back against his chest before choked sobs begin to leave your mouth at the overstimulation.

“Shhh, baby. I know. I know,” his words are comforting in your ear but his thrusts are still brutal. He uses this opportunity to bury his face in your neck and shoulder again, sucking marks and bruises into every inch of skin that he can reach, marking his territory.

“Should I cum in you? Should I fill you up? Have my cum dripping down your legs then send you to see Hyunjin? I bet you would like that wouldn’t you?” he grunts into your ear, his earlier jealousy and anger returning as he approaches his own orgasm.

“J-Ji, I-I’m gonna c-cum again,” you stutter out and he maintains the same pace. The build up to your second orgasm came quickly since he never actually stopped fuck you but for a second.

“Nobody is stopping you baby,” Is his only response before your second orgasm comes crashing down over you. You usually never cum without some clit stimulation but for some reason, you just did. Your moan gets stuck in your throat as you cum again, your knees buckling in.

“Fuck, princess. You’re sucking me in so good. I’m gonna cum in this sweet cunt. Put a baby in you so everyone knows you belong to me. Fuck. I’ll get Hyunjin in here to eat my cum out of your pussy since he wants you so bad,” his words are like static in your ears as he continues to thrust into you before he stills, emptying himself into your waiting cunt.

“You’re mine. Nobody else’s. You belong to me. Only me,” he’s rambling into your ear before he slowly stops and gently lays your chest back down on the counter, laying his body across your back.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“You okay?” His voice is soft. You finally start coming back to your senses as his finger tips rub up and down your sides.

“Yes. Are you okay?” You turn your head to face him and he sits up, his gaze meeting yours.

“I love you,” is all he replies before his hands rub down your side and against your hip bones, sore from hitting the counter’s edge over and over.

“I love you so much, Jisung,” You lock eyes with him before he leans forward and presses his lips to your’s.

i wrote this just for u pookie<3

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d6volution · 10 months

Note

tehehe, okay!! so. Jax x girly fem reader smut!! Reader is almost like a pillow princess, also. Breeding kink with Jax 🤭

your wish is my command 🙇🏾‍♀️

minors dni !

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

"All this just for me? Oh, you shouldn't have." Jax coos in a mocking yet seductive tone. Knowing full well he helped— no, instructed you to assume this position. One of your favorites, all you had to was there lay while Jax took care of you.

For a moment, he examined your face, "Ya really need all that makeup doll? You know it's gonna be gone by the time I'm through with ya, right?"

"Wanted to look pretty for you.." You huffed your voice, getting small, and he chuckled at your pouting face.

"You always look pretty doll.. so damn pretty." He said, admiring your nude body.

You were laid out on your back, a pink pillow neatly tucked under you, just above your tail bone. It was comfortable, but.. also embarrassing. Jax's hand held one of your thighs against your stomach, exposing your glistening folds to him. Your face was hot, and his grin only grew. Radiating that smug energy, "I've hardly done anything and you're already dripping, you could have a little shame y'know." He teased and rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds.

His veiny shaft brushed against your clit , causing you to squirm but his fingers only dug into your thigh. A warning to keep still.

His free hand removed itself from the base of his cock and dipped into your cunt instead. He opened his mouth, something he rarely does— to lick his fingers.. all while keeping eye contact. "You're even sweeter than you look, ya know that..?"

"Jaaaxx...." A pathetic whine escaped your lips, you desperately wanted to hide away in the moutain of colorful blankets that surrounded you, but Jax wasn't going to have that, and you knew it.

"Whaaat I can't admire how you taste? Or are ya just too desperate to wait .. ? That it, dollface? You know, I could do this all day." He laughed, hand returning to his cock. Rubbing it up against your swollen lower lips.

"No, n-no... need you inside Jax, please.." Your needy voice was his weakness. Desperate and dripping with lust.

"Oh, I know." Was all he said before his other hand grabbed your thigh and pushed it up against your chest , mirroring the other. Your ankles were nearly touching your ears at this point, "Mn. Perfect," He said under his breath before plunging into your cunt. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath your fingertips.

You cursed, and his name escaped your lips in a dissary, mixed with moans and pleas.

"Sh, shh .. I know babe." He hushed you, his body flush against your own as he rutted into your cunt, tip nudging at your most sensitive and deepest spot. "Ya feel that? Gonna make sure I'm this deep when I cum so I can get ya knocked up. How's that sound..?" After all, then you can't deny who you belong to when your stomachs swelling with his kits.

"W.. Wha—" His words rang in your ears but he didn't give you time to think. No, this wasn't the time to use your brain, just to be a good little pocket pussy for him.

"Don't .. worry that pretty little head of yours," He grunted, his hips moving like a jack hammer. Just the thought of getting you knocked up was making him throb inside of you. "I'll take care of you.."

He was panting, the grip he had on your thighs was leaving impressions in your skin.

"Ja.. aah.... s-slow down—" You whined as he fucked you into the mattress, due to the position he was constantly battering right against your womb. "No can do, you can take it babe. J-Just keep still for me.. gonna cum soon.. your f@ckin' milking me sweetheart.." His stuttered out. Ignoring any fruther pleas from you because your body was telling him everything he needed to know.

Everytime he tried to pull out you sucked him back, your cunt was made for him. Only for him. Perfect for breeding, for carrying his seed.~

He added more weight to his thrusts, knees digging into the mattress as he tried to keep his balance. "Gonna take my cum, doll? Don't waste a drop.. even if you do I'll f@ck it right back into you." And that was a promise.

His hips stuttered and he made sure his tip was digging right against your cervix before finally letting go, "Aah.. there.. right there, get pregnant baby, take my cum." He said, his mouth hovering right back your ear. All his words going straight to your cunt which vicely gripped his dick. Happily taking his cum even when it started to spill past your cunt.

"Nah.. what'd I say babe? Gonna waste my cum like that..?" At this point he was being mean, slowly thrusting his hips and making even more spill out. You babbled out apologies , your cunt so numb that you didn't even notice the orgasm washing over your body.. you were tingling all over.

"S.. Sorry, Jax.. couldn't help it..." You said, but he didn't move. Still buried inside of you.

"Mhmn... don't sweat it, babe, we've got all night.." His eyes were a little.... crazed, focus on the pool of cum in between your legs rather than your eyes.

You were certainly going to be here for a while.

#the amazing digital circus #ask #jax tadc #minors dni #jax x reader #jax smut

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rafebaby · 7 months

Note

confessing to rafe the dirty things you wanna do with him https://www.tumblr.com/rafebaby/741882748366667776/drunkshyreader-x-fratrafe-what-could-go

absolutely yess ❤️‍🔥 fratboy!rafe x drunk!shy!reader

*soft smut warning*

for months you've been quietly crushing on him from a distance, being in some of the same classes, you'd just stare and stare and stare at him, accepting that you were never the kind of girl he'd be interested in.

now you're out on this schooltrip and you've been absolutely peer pressured into drinking way too much. As a result you've been postponing getting back to your room and are the last left in the common room of the facility, laying down on the comfy lounge set and feeling yourself nodding off, head pounding.

that is until you feel a someone nudging your shoulder,

"hey (y/n), it's time to get back to your room."

you open your eyes slowly and turn your head to the person waking you up. even in blurred vision, rafe caneron is unmistakably handsome. His figure tall against the light. It makes you smile.

"rafeee!" You chant slowly but with unmistakable excitement, before you try to get yourself up but start to feel like the room is spinning and fall face forward.

"Wow.. easy there!" He laughs uncomfortably, as he pushes you back calmly to sit you straight up against the back of the couch, getting your face out of his crotch area.

"Sorry!" You say sweetly, straining your eyes against the light, looking up at him.

He clears his throat before he repeats himself with: "it's time to get back to your room", as he looks around the room to check if there are any people around.

"yes, I know, but it's just so hard to get there." you whine

He laughs again, amused to see you, the quiet type of girl who was always anxiously looking around her, in such an unfiltered state.

"don't laugh at me with that laugh, rafe!" you command him in the cutest way he's every heard a command be.

He laughs again. The beauty of it destroying your inside.

"It is not fair!" you complain.

He stops laughing and tilts his head slightly to one side.

"What's not fair?" he asks with a questioning smile on his face.

"You!" you bring out.

"What about me?" He checks his surroundings again calmly, smirk on his lips caused by your blunt honesty, before looking at you awaiting your response impatiently.

"Your face!"

"My face?"

"Yeah!"

"Why?"

"You know!"

"I don't!" He'd lie visibly, mocking you.

"You do! Don't lie to me! You know it so good! And it doesn't even matter cuz you hear it every day!"

"what makes you assume that?"

"how could I not?"

His gaze that is now expectant and slightly more serious, is his only reply.

And you slowly realize that you are actually confessing your crush on him, trying not to show any expression as you panic inside.

There's a panicked pause.

"I-I do not know, maybe because I hear all the other girls constantly talking about you, I honestly really do not know," you ramble, abruptly standing up from your seated position, right up against his chest.

"oh, sorry", you awkwardly apologize as you bring up you hands trying to push yourself from him but are nothing against his stark figure.

He grabs your wrists with a soft, yet intimidating grip.

"all the other girls, huh?"

"yeah!"

"yeah?"

His face hovers above yours.

Luckily your face is looking straight into his chest so he can't see how red your cheeks have become.

"Not you?" He questions.

You're heart is beating out of your chest.

"You don't like my face, (y/n)?"

He's playing your heart strings. At this point, he's not concerned with the environment anymore. You've got him hardening in his pants with your flustered, innocent demeanor and your soft breasts pressing against him.

"No, it's not that, it's-"

"So you do like my face?"

You hum in agreement, pushing Rafe over the edge and causing him to lose any remaining morals.

"You like other things too?" He can not help but ask as his breath deepens. He's presence growing more heavy.

You are put in a corner. By Rafe Cameron. Hottest man you've ever come across, but dark in his ways.

Yet you're panties are suddenly soaked. The alcohol coarsing through your veins making you stupid.

Rafe Cameron is a criminal, a druggie and an entitled, rich kid with tendencies of aggression... But he is also tall and built and handsome as hell, and oh god, he smells so nice...

You simply can't convince yourself not to give in to him, so you hum again.

"What other things?"

You take your time, actually really thinking about it, resisting to act against it.

"Your neck." But ending up being bluntly honest again.

He remains silent.

One of his hands moving from around your wrists to feeling your tits.

Your breath catches heavily.

Now you can't stop.

"Your shoulders and arms"

He pinches your nipple. You catch your breath in pleasure.

"Your hands." You go on, lost in the moment. "Your fingers too."

He grunts. His hand moving down from your chest to your waist, down your stomach and ending between your legs. So lucky your wearing one of your preppy short skirts. Bare legs. Ring finger pressing on your most sensitive spot. The only thing between you and him, the thin fabric of your panties. You whimper softly.

He lowers his head to your ear: "Do you think about them sometimes, when you're alone?"

You're back to humming.

"What do you imagine them doing? He asks, as he starts rubbing his fingers back and forth.

"This." Breath hitching again. Heat rising through your body.

"And?"

"Inside."

"Inside?

"Me."

____

I don't know... Something like that 😇

Thank you for your contribution. I loved it 🎀

XxX rafebaby

#rafe x you #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe blurb #rafe imagine #obx x reader #fratboy!rafe

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animeyanderelover · 9 months

Text

I did something like this before with Dazai but I just sort of redid it again because I was in the mood.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, touchiness, stalking, paranoia, controlling behavior, manipulation, guilt-tripping, isolation, abduction, pregnancy, C-section, mentions of non-con, Stockholm syndrome, baby-trapping, afab s/o

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @shumidehiro @izanami78

Pregnancy Hc’s

Pluto

🐺You've always wondered if Pluto due to being a Demon Hound would go into rut as well now that apparently he has chosen you as his mate. You remember having done a lot of research on wolves. Now that you are permanently stuck with him in a den filled with clothes and blankets he has stolen from villages to keep you warm, you can't help but feel scared when you see the worst fits of winter slowly passing by and the snow melting. Breeding season is from February to March as you can recall and so you watch with growing caution and worry Pluto's behavior. He's recently acted strange. He always rubs his scent all over you, growls as soon as you dare to leave his vision and has been getting a lot more aggressive and irritated with every living being around his den. You fear the worst as he grows clingier and clingier until one day your worst fears are confirmed when sharp nails rip your old and worn-out clothes from your body as red pupils dilate and you feel his erection rutting against your entrance, irritated that he can't get in before he finally slips into you. He barely separates from you during his rut as he spends his time either breeding you or cuddling next to you protectively.

🐺You know that he would be the one who would notice your potential pregnancy first due to his enhanced senses and when he soon starts nudging your tummy with a satisfied rumble coming from deep within his chest and starts licking it, you take it as a confirmation that he succeeded in breeding you. You don't take the news well because you know that you have no doctor to visit and no midwife to help you when you'll eventually give birth. You only have Pluto with you who resembles from behavior and intelligence a wolf. You can't help but sob a bit when you realise that you'll have to essentially go through pregnancy and birth all by yourself. Pluto, distressed by your sorrow and stress, starts whining and tries to ease your distress by cuddling himself physically close to you. Obviously he doesn't understand what you are thinking right now or why you are so stressed in the first place. He only knows that he doesn't like to see you so panicked and sad, especially now that you carry pups.

🐺As the male wolf who sired the offspring developing in your tummy, he grows exponentially more protective as his instincts remind him that he is protector and provider for the mother of his children as well as the babies themselves. He starts hunting animals and even buries them for later. You do your best to light up a fire in here to cook the raw meat or just command Pluto to breathe fire for you, a useful trick you've taught him ever since he abducted you. A part of his brain also recalls occasionally what food you consumed when you were still living in a town and since food is now more important than ever with you gestating his young, he raids towns in his Hound form for food and brings it to you. You don't want to touch food that has been directly touched by his saliva when he spits it out in front of you but you accept canned food which Pluto remembers for his next hunt. Besides his hunt for food and his pursuit of everything that dares to get too close to his den, he spends all of his time wrapped around you. Either in his human or hound form.

🐺You notice that Pluto is confused when you don't give birth within spring and you assume it's because his kind usually gestates young quicker than a human. He whimpers as he presses his nose and ears confused against your swelling stomach as he looks up at you with concerned eyes. You assume that he can sense that the babies are developing fine inside of you as well as that you are healthy which only leaves him majorly confused. You can't help but wonder if you are still growing faster than a normal pregnant human would or if you are actually expecting more than one because you could swear that your stomach looks bigger than it should be already. The only thing you can do for now is wait though. Pluto grows more protective and anxious the more time passes by as his confusion and unease only grow as you don't give birth as well as seeing you starting to struggle as your belly swells and starts hindering you from moving around as much.

🐺As soon as you can confirm first movement and you realise how much movement it is, you can only silently confirm that you are definitely carrying more than one baby. When Pluto sees and feels the movement in your belly too, he lets out a few excited howls and starts licking your belly more from that day on to show you as well as the pups inside more affection. You really wish that he could talk like a normal human whenever he presses his ears against your stomach because you think that with his enhanced senses he might even be able to hear the heartbeat of the babies and can count them. You can only leave the den when he is with you and the more pronounced and rounded your stomach becomes, the more he insists that you ride on his hound form so that you don't tire yourself. He ususally remains in hound form as he watches you cleaning yourself in the river, his ears twitching and turning around with every small rustle and sound.

🐺When autumn arrives and the babies are still not born, his anxiety increases. He frantically starts stealing more food as well as clothes and blankets for you to prepare for winter. He's often wrapping himself around you in his hound form nowadays to keep you and your big belly all the time warm. You expect to give birth soon as you have done the basic calculation and at this rate you can't wait as your stomach has gotten so huge. Your labor starts and your water breaks in early winter as you spend hours upon hours with contractions. Pluto is emotionally just as distraught as you are as he cries and whimpers, licking your sweaty head as he tries to comfort and encourage you as you birth his kids. Nearly a day filled with pain later, you've given birth to three boys, all with his silver hair. If he'd have a tail right now, it would wag like crazy as he lets out what you assume are excited barks as he tenderly chews off their umbilical cord and licks them clean before he carefully pushes all of them against your chest. He pulls a few stolen blankets over his new family before turning into his hound form and wrapping himself protectively around his mate and freshly born litter.

Snake

⚕️Snake is a hybrid himself so chances of him experiencing something akin to mating season aren't unlikely. It will probably not be as strong with Snake who is normally always a more shy and insecure around you but there is an intense need for him during such periods to mate with you and breed. He is conscious of his sexual urges though and generally tries to avoid you during such times. He doesn't want to force the sexual act on you even if all of his snakes try to coax him into believing that he shouldn't resist his nature. Snake refuses though even if temptation is sometimes very strong when he feels the warmth of your body on his skin as his pupils go from their ususal slits to growing, black orbs as he feels his desire flaring up hotly inside his body. Sex during this period of time is rougher as the normally more submissive male becomes more dominate, although he tries to be more careful with you despite essentially being in heat.

⚕️As he eventually calms down from his heat and returns to his normal self, although highly ashamed and apologetic afterwards, his snakes and him soon sense that he has succeeded in what his heat-addled brain wanted to do. You're pregnant. He doesn't know how he should tell you and hesitates for a while. Snake is terrified that you'll be angry with him for impregnating you and also worries that you might reject the child to whom he seems to already form an attachment to. His golden eyes often focus on your stomach as he grows more protective and starts following you around more often. His snakes seem to try to tell you what Snake hesitates to speak out as they wrap themselves around your stomach protectively to protect the precious life inside. You can tell that something is going on but Snake still can't speak up. So far no one besides Sebastian seems to have caught on, the butler telling Snake in an amused tone that he should tell you soon as you are already suspicious.

⚕️He apologizes as soon as he has told you and you can see that he is visibly anxious and nervous for your reaction. At this point you've had your own suspicions already as your period has been late and you've started to experience some typical symptoms like a change of smell. You are a bit unsure because this pregnancy wasn't fully planned even if you were aware of Snake's intentions when you agreed to have sex with him during his heat but you also don't hate the baby and just decide to raise it together with him. Snake is visibly relieved when he hears your answer as his eyes water a bit. He's shaking a bit when he hugs you because he is excited, nervous and anxious all at the same time. Snake seems to be a bit unwilling to share the news initially with Ciel and all the other human servants as he is quite protective but he knows that it's necessary so he soon tells the Earl of Phantomhive about the fact that you're expecting. When Mey-Rin, Bardroy and Finny find out, they're busily congratulating him as well as suggesting names for the baby, even arguing over it.

⚕️Snake feels increasingly more uneasy and worried whenever he has to leave you alone so to not feel as anxious, he always leaves a few of his snakes in your company. All of his animal friends gladly do him the favor of looking out and guarding you and there is always at least one poisonous among those who stay with you. Just to be completely sure that nothing happens to you whilst you are pregnant. So you end up always having one snake gently wrapped around your neck whilst the other one is wrapped around your stomach for as long as it is still possible. Snake gets all flustered when you slowly start developing a baby bump, his hands trembling slightly when he touches your tummy with his hands carefully as if afraid that even the slightest touch could harm the precious life inside. He's more warily than ever when he brings you over to the mansion because all other servants, besides Sebastian, have been kind of asking him if he could let you visit. His snakes have been against it, it's only because you wanted to come over that he yields. He's still cautious and stays alerted because he knows that the servants in this mansion can be quite clumsy and he wouldn't want anything to harm you.

⚕️He has been sensing it for kind of a while now and his snakes have been too but Snake waits for a while to confirm his suspicion as your stomach swells with new life until the first kicks eventually happen. It's then that he can confirm that he has been sensing two lives within you and all of his snakes have done so too. He looks anxious when he tells you this because one child is already such a big responsibility. Two at once is even bigger of a responsibility though and he can't help but worry even if he is also equally as excited. At one point your stomach gets too big for some of his snakes to comfortably wrap around so instead they curl themselves over your stomach comfortably as soon as you sit down or lay in bed. You notice that they are often hissing, their tongue flipping out as their head moves closer to your stretched skin. Snake informs you that they're communicating with the babies inside your stomach and often translates to you what they're saying. Both of you actually wonder if the babies will also be able to understand snakes like he does and judging from the increased movements whenever a snake is talking to them, you like to imagine that they do.

⚕️As happy as Snake is, he's also more prone to insecurities. He's worried that his children might also be made anomalies due to him being their father. He manages to convince Ciel with the huge support of the other free human servants to be given some time off when you approach your due date. He rejects the offer that you could come over to his mansion and give birth in his room as he wants his solitude with you when your water breaks as he prefers to stay in your house. He does accept the offer of letting a midwife stay with you now that you're so incredibly close. He definitely reaches the peak of his protective behavior in those final days when him and his snakes can all sense that it could happen anyday now as he barely leaves you out of his sight. He's not leaving your sight, clutching your hand tightly in his own as soon as your contractions start as if he's the one in need of support, golden eyes observing sharply the midwife from time to time too. You give birth to one boy and one girl and they're surrounded by all of his snakes instantly, the animals determined to protect both of those children. They have some scales littering a few parts of their body but he doesn't care as he tears up when he sees how cute they are.

Dazai Osamu

🤎Dazai wants to start a family with his darling at one point and he has always been hinting at this. Whenever he sees a young family when he’s walking around with you, he jokingly asks you how your children would be if you would have a few. As soon as he sees a pregnant person walking around, he tells you that you’d probably look very cute with a pronounced baby bump that would make you waddle wherever you go and would force you to rely on him for a lot of things. He says all of those things with a harmless and teasing smile on his face yet he also gauges your reaction to his words very closely, brown eyes observing every twitch of your mouth and eyes. Perhaps it would be best for you to have nothing against the thought of children because otherwise you might be succumbed to his manipulation and gaslighting. Jokes eventually turn serious as Dazai makes it clear to you that he desires a child with you, his own hands gently grasping your own as he presses his forehead against your own. Don't you want it too? Leaving a physical trace of your love and adoration on this earth even after your death in form of a sweet child?

🤎Perhaps you should have expected this outcome even if you yourself never desired a child to begin with. As your period doesn't come and as you slowly start experiencing symptoms such as cravings, a suden change in smell as well as nausea you can feel his eyes trailing after you. It's like he has been waiting for signs of pregnancy from you and now that you experience those changes, Dazai starts feeling extremely giddy. He soon goes out to run an errand and asks you to wait for him at home before he leaves, giving you a quick kiss before he does so. When he returns, he has bought a few pregnancy tests and asks you excitedly to take them. He waits in front of the bathroom, although he knocks on the door every few seconds to ask if he can come inside now. As soon as you allow him, both of you wait for the results. When two red lines appear on all of them and confirm that you are indeed expecting, he starts to let out a genuinely happy and excited laugh. Arms wrap gently around your waist and you feel warm lips travel all over your face before he starts spinning and swaying you around whilst humming happily.

🤎Dazai decides to keep it a secret from everyone in his workplace for now and is especially more careful to keep the news away from the Port Mafia. He is no fool, he is aware that at one point they will find out. For now though he just wants to enjoy this special time with you whilst also preparing for the baby. For the first time in a while he seems to become conscious of his own life lifestyle and suddenly he does a 180 now that he knows that a baby will soon live here. Dazai starts cleaning everything, clothes and other stuff that used to lay everywhere randomly is sorted away because he doesn't want you to trip over it. He even makes a list what he needs to buy but he still likes to make spontanous decisions as he goes out with you, a hand always wrapped around you as the both of you buy a crib, diapers and choose babyclothes together. He discovers his fervor as he buys everything even if it threatens to tear a hole in his wallet. Both of you find quickly out during an appointment with a doctor that you are actually having twins and he couldn't be more happy as he showers you in kisses as soon as the news are out. So that means that he can name one child and you can name one too.

🤎He always keeps a picture of the ultrasound pictures in his wallet and whenever he has the time, he just stares fondly at the two little babies in your womb. This is what he'll soon protect and have in his life. He has had his hands on your stomach and even talked to the babies before you were showing but as soon as you start developing a baby bump, he glues himself even more to your side. Hands are always rubbing over your swelling tummy as he all but dotes on you and his two babies. As soon as you are in your second trimester he becomes especially touchy as he eagerly awaits the first kicks of his precious children. It's probably around this time that the other members of the ADA find out about your pregnancy. It's either that they caught him staring at the ultrasound pictures or that Yosano caught sight of the two of you during her shopping trips and connected the dots quickly when she saw your growing belly. Initially his reactions are more careful when all members find out and congratulate him but eventually he becomes more open and starts gushing about how precious and adorable you are with your baby bump and how he can't wait for the babies to be born.

🤎Dazai starts taking pictures of you at one point too because he wants to capture how beautiful and motherly you start looking the bigger you start to grow and is all but cooing and doting on you during this time as you slowly start struggling with the size of your belly. Dazai on the other hand truly starts blossoming as your situation as well as his babies motivate him to take better care of himself because you and the babies need him to take care of them. He helps you with all tasks that start to become more straining for you, he cleans the house, does the laundry and even starts to pick up some meals to cook so that he can prepare them for you as well as for the babies at one point. He always insists to spoonfeed you whenever he cooks something for you, all excited for you to try them. He does keep you on a diet appropriate for your pregnancy but at one time he starts to become so putty in your hands the further along you are that he starts stocking the food that you start craving a lot whilst you are carrying his twins.

🤎He is constantly torn apart between wanting to know the gender of his babies and wanting to keep it a surprise. There were multiple times during appointments with the doctor where he wanted to ask or even at home when he already had his phone in his hands and was about to call them only to change his mind in the last moment. He takes some time off from his work in your last weeks as he yearns to spend those last few weeks with you. It'll be the last time for a long time that both of you will be alone after all. He savors the last bit of your pregnancy, his hands and lips cherishing your big tummy as he spends every waking hour with you. When your labor starts, he decides to wait as he packs everything he thinks you two might need for the hospital all whilst giving you soft kisses in between whenever you feel a contraction. When your contractions come in certain time intervals, he drives with you to the hospital and then he stays there with you, his hand rubbing over your stomach as he asks the twins to not give you too much of a hard time and that he can't wait to meet them. His eyes are filled with nothing but love as soon as you give birth to his daughter and his son as he admires his new family.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎Fyodor has never mentioned anything about children to you for as long as you can remember. And honestly, with the situation you are in with him you have never had the time nor the care to ask him what his opinion of children is. Until Fyodor succeeds in invading your heart and mind and you stop caring about about everything else that isn't him either. Your days from that day on are spend with Fyodor being much more gentle and affectionate with you although sometimes he just needs to ignite the sadistic spark inside of him and see you in pain only to kiss the pain better afterwards whilst uttering sweet nothings to you. You've completely forgotten about thoughts of a child until one day he suddenly brings it up to you whilst you are placed on his lap, his lips brushing against your ear as he asks you how you'd feel about a child. You're a bit surprised but eventually you tell him that you wouldn't mind having a child with him. He gives you a small smile as he replies that he's glad to hear this as you feel one of his cold hands resting on your stomach.

🍎You realise a few weeks later that he must have already known at that time that you were expecting as you are hunched over the toilet again, Fyodor behind you as he caresses your back and your shoulders whilst you throw up. He's sure that it must be uncomfortable but he hopes that you'll get used to it since this might happen more often now that you carry his child. You've already asked him a couple of times before if the child was intended from his side or if it was an accident. All you always get from him is this mysterious smile and a gentle kiss somewhere on your head as he tells you in a low tone that he's happy and that is all that matters. He quickly arranges everything for you and the child. Fyodor can't risk anyone tracking you back to him and possibly go after you now that you are carrying his baby but he is generous enough to know that it would be wiser to have medics assisting you and helping you, especially once you'll give birth to his baby. He's very picky though as he chooses a selected few doctors and midwives to do the ultrasounds and to cater to your and your baby's needs as soon as he has to drive you to the hospital.

🍎His hands caress your stomach gingerly as soon as you start showing as he even starts occasionally talking to the baby, mainly in Russian. He's given you already a nickname in Russian and he gives one to the child inside of you too and always addresses the baby by his chosen pet name when he talks to your stomach. Fyodor wants to find out the gender of the baby soon though so as soon as it is possible to find the sex of the baby out through the ultrasound, he asks the doctor to tell the both of you. A small smile appears on his face when he hears that he'll have a little daughter, his eyes twinkling with pride and fondness whenever he touches your stomach from that point on and talks gently with his litte girl. His sadistic desires completely vanish during your pregnancy because he would never be so cruel to hurt you whilst you carry something so small and pure inside of you. This little girl is a gift from god after all, physical proof that both of you are bound together.

🍎The whole nursery is colored in white and light blue and you don't get much of a say in it. White is the color of purity after all and his daughter will be born pure. She'll be a precious and innocent child, born without any sin tainting her. And light blue to symbolize the clear and blue sky on a day without any clouds hiding it from the human's eyes. The further along you are, the more Fyodor tries to make more time for you instead of spending it scheming and planning his crimes or wasting hours in front of multiple screens. Even whilst he is working, he always has one screen showing him live footage of a camera he has set up in your room for safety. Sometimes he forgets about his work as he instead admires you through the screen. His admiration for his darling definitely grows during the pregnancy. It's so beautiful to see how your body adjusts and prepares for his daughter you grow and nurture inside of you. You are so breathtaking as your belly swells with child and your breasts slowly inflate with milk to nurse the baby as soon as she is born.

🍎The man finds himself low-key starting to worship you and your body as you grow with his child and he admits to you so as he whispers words of affirmation and praises into your ears whenever his arms are wrapped around you gingerly and his hands rub over your stomach soothingly. He has a smug and content grin on his face whenever you tell him that the little girl starts kicking and moving around inside of you whenever he starts talking Russion to her as if she reacts to his voice and his words as his hands instantly rest on your bump to feel her little feet and hands. He always tells you in an almost teasing voice that he's just starting very early to teach her his mother tongue, glad that she seems to react so strongly to him speaking in Russian to her. He chooses a couple of different names for his daughter, all in Russian as well and all of them have some meaning including purity or God in it. He tells you about those names he has chosen so far and asks you which name sounds prettiest to you. You tell him your honest answer although you don't know if he'll actually consider your answer.

🍎He removes himself completely from all of his work when your due date is getting close as he spends all of his time from that point on with you. His purple eyes are always on you as he watches for any sign that you might experience the first signs of early labor. Similar to Dazai, Fyodor decides to wait for a while until your contractions are coming within a certain time. You spend early labor with him as both of you pack everything he thinks you might need whilst in the hospital whilst he softly assures you that even if what is to come might be scary and will be painful, it's the last and ultimate act you have to do in order to bring your beautiful daughter into this world. He has booked a private room for you as soon as he brings you to the hospital because he doesn't want too many people around you and his newborn daughter as soon as she is born. There's only the midwife occasionally checking how far you are dilated, otherwise you are left alone with Fyodor who soothes you as good as he can until they tell you that it's time to push. Fyodor tells them to leave as soon as the baby is safely delivered and cleaned, his eyes focused on his daughter as he tenderly caresses her head.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️Here you are, permanently imprisoned as the government has taken you under special protectionall because Jouno has asked them to do him a favor. You know that this is in reality just a more civilized abduction but no one gives you any help as you are stuck as Saigiku's lover, a doll who can do nothing but wait for him to return from any missions or other business he had to attend to and hope that he won't be in any sadistic mood. You never even thought of any children and you honestly get chills when you think about Saigiku being father to a child, especially if it should be your own. You don't even think that he would want any children if you would have to make a guess based on his possessive behavior he exhibits around you. You barely take notice when your period is a bit late because it wouldn't be your first time that you've missed your menstruation due to the stress you've felt ever since you've been taken. You don't assume anything, not until you see Saigiku's frown as his head tilts into the direction of your stomach.

♦️You can only freeze in shock and confusion when he suddenly leans down and presses his ear against your stomach and before you can even attempt to ask what has suddenly gotten into him, he hushes you as he starts focusing on something. You see his normally smug and composed exterior fading as you see surprise, then shock and eventually unease all appearing on his face before he pulls away. He furrows, appears conflicted before he asks you when you've last had your period and it's his question that makes you realise that you've been quite late by now. You want to ask him why he wants to know before your breath gets caught in your throat as you connect the dots and Jouno can hear that you've caught onto why he asked this. He instantly makes an appointment with the doctor and not too long after he gets the confirmation of what he already knew. You're pregnant, the embryo already having a heartbeat which he is able to detect now. There is a thick silence as soon as the news are out and you look anxiously at Jouno who seems to contemplate the situation right now.

♦️You're surprised when he actually asks you of your opinion on the pregnancy and since he would be able to tell if you would have lied or not anyways, you decide to give him an honest answer. You aren't sure how to feel about this. He seems to think the situation through for the next few days, the second heartbeat he can pick up when he is around you a constant reminder of what is going on inside of you. Eventually he makes the decision to keep the child. You don't know if he would force you to keep the baby even if you were against it but you are still unsure to make up your mind about the situation so whilst you aren't distraught when he announces his decision to you, you also aren't thrilled. Saigiku lets out a sigh when he picks up on your hesitance, one of his hands ruffling your hair gently. He knows that this wasn't the plan but now that this surprise happened you two might as well just make the best of it. He takes your hesitance over any hatred directed against your child though. Jouno just hopes that you'll have made up your mind by the time the child is born. He trusts you to make the right decision.

♦️He would like for this to remain a secret but the other Hunting Dogs find out far too soon for his taste. Fukuchi congratulates him as he pats Saigiku on his shoulder, Teruko is having a laugh imagining Jouno with a toddler whilst Tetchou and Tachibana fret for the way the baby will be raised by Saigiku. Whilst Tachibana at least keeps quiet about it even if Jouno can still pick up clearly on his emotions, Tetchou is a bit more blunt as he openly admits that he is a bit concerned for how Jouno plans to raise his child. Saigiku can only feel his temper rising as this is the precise reason why he wanted to keep your pregnancy hidden for a while longer. How dare he to question his abilities to take care and look out for his own child? Fukuchi stops the two of them before anything grand might happen as Jouno leaves, fuming on the inside. What is probably even worse is that he knows exactly that you think the same way Tetchou does so when he visits you shortly after his argument with Tetchou, he feels the need to make it very clear to you that he wouldn't harm his own child. Honestly, for what kind of sociopath do you take him to even consider such a thing?

♦️You have regular appointments with the doctor to make sure that the baby as well as you yourself are both fine. Truthfully though, Jouno is playing partially a medic too. His enhanced senses to cancel out his blindness cause him to pay very close attention to everything he can pick up. He listens closely to the heartbeat of the baby as it grows stronger and stronger each week and seems a lot more concerned as soon as he notices that you're stressed or anxious. Whenever he notices that your emotions go a bit haywire he quickly walks to you, asking you with a frown on his face if something is wrong. He wouldn't want you to stress yourself too much since it might be bad for the baby as he starts refraining from hurting or scaring you during your pregnancy. He becomes very touchy with you because of his blindness. He can't see you growing round and looking all adorable and he would lie if he would say that he isn't a bit upset about it so instead he feels your pregnancy. His hands are often on your stomach, slowly running over the surface to feel how much you've grown since last week and to imagine what you might look like now.

♦️Since the pregnancy was already a surprise he decides the sex might as well be a surprise until birth as well. He gets some time off before your due date as requested by him and Fukuchi who insists that he gets some time with his new family. Everything is ready by now. From the nursery to the people who will assist you the moment your water breaks as he tells you that you can't just go into a public hospital like this now that you're under his protection and carry his child. You'll have your own special room just for yourself and your own team. Your little daughter isn't born the natural way though as you experience stalled labor throughout the process and suddenly stop progressing as you stop dilating. You decide to wait for a while yet as you still experience contractions without dilating further, the doctor advices that a C-section might be an option and Jouno agrees as he's worried for you and his child. She's still born healthy though as Jouno gets to hold her first, listening to her gentle breath and the sound of her heartbeat. His fingers trace tenderly over her face, trying to imagine what she looks like before he hands her over to you and asks you to describe her to him.

Sigma

☁️Sigma is a person who just came like this into existence by being written into the Book without any way to ever find a reason why he came into existence anyways. He has found his purpose ever since then in you as he has made it his whole point to exist to look after you and to protect you. You are his purpose in life so he can't allow you under any circumstances to leave him which has led you to be permanently stuck in the Sky Casino and even all the gifts and riches he gets you don't do any good yet he still does his best to appease and please you in any way he can. Sigma as the one who has dedicated his entire existence to you will be relatively quick to notice the small changes occuring in you. He notices how you suddenly crave food you've never particularly liked before, he notices how you're suddenly more sensitive around certain smells as well as some headaches. He frets about your health as he wonders what might be wrong with you but it is you who one day approaches him to tell him in a serious tone that you're quite late for your period and that is when he realises what is wrong. It's something he didn't really want to consider.

☁️You can't help but wonder that it should be the other way around as you can see Sigma's whole face twist in fear, anxiety and stress as his eyes widen, his heart starts beating out of his chest and his breath quickening. He looks like he is about to have a meltdown and a panic attack so you try to calm him down as he clutches onto you as soon as he feels your warmth, his palms and forehead covered in cold sweat as you help him to regulate his breathing. As soon as he has regained some semblance of composure he apologizes frantically to you. He-he had no intention to get you pregnant! He's so sorry he should have been more careful with protection! You try to put a stop to his anxious rambling as you inform him that you aren't angry with him or anything. He still apologizes as he informs you that he'll arrange you an abortion if you desire one. You tilt your head at him as you ask him what he actually wants and he insists that he'll do whatever you want him to do in this situation. You fall silent as you consider everything before you tell him that you'd like to keep the child. You see him swallowing nervously as he purses his lips but he eventually gives you a nod.

☁️He spends entire nights reading through every file and online article he can find about pregnancy and memorizes everything in there. From development of the child to the changes your body will undergo to what he can do to make this pregnancy as easy as possible for you. Honestly, he knew before all of this very loosely that unprotected sex would lead to pregnancy but he can't help but be shocked and even slightly disturbed as he reads through everything. The thought of growing an entire life within your womb is so strange but he wasn't exactly created the normal way so perhaps that's why he finds this all so foreign. He insists on knowing the sex of the baby as early as possible as he assigns a few medics to monitor your pregnancy. He needs to order and prepare a nursery after all and instead of constantly second-guessing everything he wants to have delivered, he just wants to know the sex of the baby as early as possible. He still second-guesses everything though because he wants it to be perfect for you and the child so you end up helping him to choose, literally meaning that you say what you like and he buys it without giving his own opinion. Your opinion matters after all.

☁️It's kind of cute when he randomly tells you how big your son is right now if he would be a fruit and what he is already capable of doing within your womb. He's been still somewhat in denial and disbelief up until a certain point that he has gotten you pregnant yet the reality of the situation crashes down onto Sigma when he notices that you start developing a baby bump. He just stares and stares and stares as you start to grow bigger as if still thinking that he is hallucinating yet he can't deny that he's curious. How does your stomach feel now that you're carrying a baby inside of you? He always wonders but never asks. Not until you yourself take it upon yourself to invite him to touch your belly as you have noticed those curious eyes on your belly for a while now. He asks you if he really can before he carefully touches your tummy, amazed by it's roundness and firmess. You find his fascination with your belly cute though. Sigma is perhaps a bit strict with your diet and activity though as he has only the advice of the doctor and the advice online to trust so he is a tad bit controlling because he really doesn't want anything to happen to you whilst you're pregnant.

☁️He's initially bewildered but then quickly intrigued when the baby starts kicking around inside of you. Honestly, he is admiring you for growing another human being inside of you whilst enduring the changes that come with it and the further you are along, the more protective and paranoid he becomes. He's constantly checking the cameras in your room to see how you're doing only to pause and always get so fascinated when he sees how big you have grown already. The more you start swelling and the less foreign and strange the concept of you being pregnant with his child becomes, the more another feeling starts blossoming inside of Sigma. He starts feeling an attachment to his son you're carrying as he starts feeling responsible. Responsible to protect him, cherish him and raise him well. He's going to be a father to your child and as much as this knowledge stresses him, it also makes his heart pound in excitement as he realises that his son will be one more reason and justification for his existence. Sigma will have another purpose to exist as soon as his child gets born.

☁️Besides a few chosen people who Sigma closely monitors, no one else finds out about your pregnancy though. Sigma is too anxious to let anyone else know about it. He's counting days and hours the closer your due date gets as he simultanously worries and marvels over how much you've swollen and changed with his baby developing inside of you and he tries his best to alleviate you of any pressure and pain you might feel by giving you a massage or doing anything you want him to do. He tries and fails to keep his composure the moment your water breaks as he instantly cancels all of his work to instead spend it with you and tells all guards to not let anyone get close to your room. He's sweating, he's hyperventilating and he feels like he's about to suffer a mental breakdown as he watches you going through labor. He's constantly fearing for the worst yet luckily he is disappointed when his boy is born healthy. You fall asleep soon after you've given birth which leaves him pacing back and forth in the room with his son in his arms as he is unable to sit still. His eyes constantly go back and forth between you and the baby, hoping that you'll soon wake up before glancing down amazed at the baby he created.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere pluto #yandere snake #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere dazai #yandere dazai osamu #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere jouno #yandere jouno saigiku #yandere sigma

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 months

Note

Do you still do pickup lines? If so “Call me bunny cuz I wanna bounce on your lap” to Gaz or Price? Perchance

hell yeah i always love the little quote prompts/starters!! they make great warm-ups and fodder for the daily wordcount. send them, character/situation/au specified or not. pick-up lines are always super fun <3

44 / 1.1k

...

"Call me bunny, cause I wanna bounce on your lap."

Gaz smirks. "And why do you want to hop into my lap, bunny?”

"Cause you look like a good time."

“And you look like you’d be trouble.”

“You don’t think you can handle it?”

“Easy, now,” he drawls, letting his gaze rake over you shamelessly. “I never said that. A little trouble keeps things interesting."

You step closer, nudging his knees apart so you can stand between him, looking down at him on his bar stool. He automatically spreads his thighs like it’s the most natural thing in the world to make room for you there. And he keeps eye contact with you as he runs a hand up your leg, ghosting past the hem of your skirt and brushing the underside of your ass so lightly he could claim it was a mistake if you called him on it.

When you don’t, he hums in surprise. “You don’t seem like trouble to me.”

You sense his overconfidence and smile. Men like him—they’re easy. "That's what everyone thinks. Do you plan to feel me up in this bar all night or are you gonna take me home?”

"I'd love to, but I'm here with a buddy. I drove."

"So leave him here."

Huh. It's one thing to banter and tease, but he's not accustomed to that brand of… command. Especially not by some bossy little bunny who sauntered over to claim his lap. Or so you say. "Just ditch my mate and go off with you? That'd be a bit cold."

You lean closer, resting your hand on his chest. When you feel how firm he is, you can't help but squeeze. He must be a soldier at the base nearby. Jackpot. You know how to talk to those types. "It's decisive," you breathe out, your mouth hovering just shy of his. "Shows initiative."

He flexes his pectoral with a lopsided grin. He can play this game too. "Let me guess. You like a man who takes charge?"

You open your mouth to tell him yes, you do, and you don't appreciate being made to wait. Before you can say that, though, his hand catches the back of your thigh and he pulls you right into his lap.

“Hey—!”

He situates your legs perpendicular to his until you get the hint and settle in, leaning against his shoulder.

"Like this?" He gives your thigh a good squeeze—teasing you. Getting under your skin because he’s already starting to feel like you might be fun when you're not getting your way about it.

You huff, cross your legs, and pull the hem of your skirt down as it rides up. "Not what I had in mind, actually, no."

He keeps his hand on your thigh and rubs your soft skin with his calloused fingertips even as you pull your skirt down over them. “Yeah? Then what did you have in mind, bunny?”

"I told you."

"You said you wanted in my lap, and here you are."

Ugh. Whatever. "Fine, be obtuse." You grab his drink and take a swig of it just to spite him.

His grip on you tightens a bit at the casual gesture. He assumes it’s meant to tease him. There’s a glint in his eyes as he watches you dab at the corner of your mouth with his bar napkin like he’s mentally calculating what it will cost you later.

He can’t deny how he’s more interested in you than before. You're rude and it's kinda hot. He wonders what it’d take to make you soft and pliant rather than stubborn and cutting. On the other hand, something about your haughtiness makes him want to press you up against the wall right now and see if he can make you snap at him again.

He signals for the bartender to bring another drink for both of you. Then he leans in, letting his lips brush the back of your ear. "I think you're just impatient to get me into bed."

You glance down to watch his hand edge up your thigh. The buzz of the alcohol in your system isn't much, but it does intensify the heat between your legs at the sight. "I already told you that. You're the one not getting with the program."

"I am,” he counters in a murmur, “but I’m not just going to leave my mate here all alone.” When you look away, he shamelessly lets his hand slide further up. He rubs his thumb up and down, then lets his fingers dig in a bit and give it a good squeeze, just to make you squirm a bit. “Can’t you wait a little while?”

The bartender slides your drinks over. Your eyes light up with interest. "Maybe. If you keep buying me drinks."

“Yeah?” He grabs your drink and takes a sip, just so you’ll have to reach for it when you want it. Work a little harder. If you want to tease him, he’ll tease you back. “And what happens if I don’t? You gonna hop on out of my lap?"

You want to call his bluff so bad. But he's smirking. He has that dimple on one side. And goddamn, if he isn't the hottest guy you've seen here in ages. What's a guy like him even doing in a place like this?

You wipe the expression off your face and ignore how he's holding your drink. "Maybe. Maybe not."

He sees it, though. That squared, petulant set of your shoulders that makes him think you would absolutely leave him here if he pissed you off enough. And he can see why you might be worth the trouble he’d get in if he left his mate here just to take you home. If you got up and walked out the door right now, who knows. Maybe he'd be helpless to resist following you.

But he smiles and plays it cool. They always love a smile. "Be nice to me and I'll buy you the whole bottle, yeah?"

"We'll see."

"Yeah, we will." He pulls you tighter against him and his hand drifts up a bit further under your skirt, high enough to let you know he’s getting bolder. “You know, I never got your name, by the way."

You take the opportunity to steal your drink back from him. "So?"

"So now’s your chance to give it to me."

"Mm, no."

"Come on. That's no fun."

"Too bad. I'll still have plenty of fun."

"You're a rude little thing, aren’t you." He gives your thigh another squeeze. Things will get rougher if you keep being difficult. "Got a mouth on you."

You laugh to yourself as you bring your cocktail to your lips. "You'll see, won't you?"

“Yeah," he mutters, watching you wrap your lips around the straw of your drink and take a sip.

...

follow-up smut/part 2 here <3

more Gaz / masterlist

#mine #story #ask #fem reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #gaz cod #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #pick up line #x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year

Note

Johnny being allowed to fuck but not cum all week because he pissed simon off, he tries bargaining with reader at one point to just - ease the cockring off , simon won't notice it'll be fine. Reader doesn't even have a chance to consider it before Johnny ripped out of her and is muzzled because bad dogs need to keep quiet

hm. you shot me dead with this one. like. what am i supposed to do with myself now?

1.4k of smut below the cut. cw: rough puppy play, itty bitty tiny second of cbt, edging/denial, simon is real real mean to johnny

something about johnny being in trouble and not being allowed to cum in you but trying anyway.... oh he's horrible

maybe this is after he was a little too rough with you (like that ask where he fucked up your wrist, or something similar) and he's in deep shit with simon. not only is he allowed to fuck you, simon makes him fuck you at least once a day. lines up behind johnny and moves his hips for him, doesn't even let him thrust on his own, guides every tiny little twitch. tugs him out right at the last second, makes johnny watch as he comes inside you. spends the whole time calling him bad, says if he could just learn to fucking listen for once he could mount you properly

johnny spends the whole week in misery. guy can barely sit down, he just wants to hump fucking everything. simon tells him he can't sit on the furniture when he's so drippy :( makes him sit on the floor instead - or he can let you clean johnny up, but no coming. does he want to be edged again or kneel between his legs like the mutt he is?

jacks him off in the shower in the morning, stopping right before he comes. leaves him crying and makes johnny wash his hair. has you cockwarm him for a bit, to make sure he stays completely hard. makes johnny eat you out til you're nearly knocked out, jacks him off slowly and stops every time you come.

he's nearly done with his punishment when he fucking breaks. it's a night simon isn't meant to be home until after midnight. you'd gone to bed earlier than johnny, wake up to him at you back, nose nudging your cheekbone and hard cock thrusting against your back.

"just gonna- just gonna fuck you, bonnie, 'k?"

"johnny?" you murmur, still half asleep. "but... simon said-"

"simon isn't fucking here," he snarls back, and you feel his bared teeth press against his shoulder. "he won't know. i'll be quick, ok, lass? just gotta... gotta cum, then you go back to sleep, yeah?"

"johnny," you'd whine again, getting a little squirmy in your spot as you feel his hands work at his own dick, then feel him start to slide in without any prep. "john- ow..."

"hush," he breathes heavily in your ear, hips already starting to work. you can feel how quickly his heart beats against you back. "i'll eat you out after, just let me... just..."

he doesn't speak after that, and neither do you. he's fast, needy, you can tell he's only gonna last a few minutes. you're still half-asleep, lost in the comforting warmth of your blankets and pillows, can't do anything but lay limp like a doll for him and relish in the pleasure.

you don't hear simon come in. one minute johnny is thrusting away inside of you, the next he's being ripped off, a sharp yelp coming from his lips followed by a long drawn out whine.

"bad fucking boy," you hear simon snarl over your shoulder, the sound of a slap echoing through the air. "you that fucking lost in your instincts, dog? can't think with nothin' but your dick - you see a pussy and fuck it, that's it huh? can't even listen to a simple command from your master. useless mutt."

you turn your head to the side, sleep clearing from your head at the sight of johnny crumpled to his knees, simon tall and proud above him. you can see the shine of tears on johnny's cheeks with the little light from the doorway.

"simon- simon-"

"no," simon's tone is merciless, his boot coming to rest on johnny's rock-hard dick and pushing down. "that's not what bad boys get to call me."

another whine, a plaintive "master..."

you see johnny's hips work a little, tiny thrusts against the sole of the boot. simon's scowl grows, backhanding johnny with bruising force and sending him sprawling to the floor. "why are you speaking? dogs don't fucking talk."

he stares down at johnny for another moment, both of them taking great heaving breaths. finally, he sighs loud and angry. "fine. i was going easy on you, mutt, was tryin' to be nice. but clearly you don't deserve nice."

he stalks over to their closet, yanking open a drawer you know holds the mean toys - the ones you don't like nearly as much as the others. he grabs something silver and shiny, storm back over to johnny and hauls him up by the hair.

johnny scrambles to follow, but simon doesn't give him a chance to stand. just drags his weight to the bed, throws him onto his back nearly on top of your legs.

you squeak a little, simon's aggressive energy something you're not entirely comfortable being so close to. you curl your legs up, folding into a little ball against the pillows as you stare at the two of them with wide eyes.

simon glances over to you at the sound, eyes softening behind his mask immediately. "oh, love, you're not in trouble. you couldn't stop the mutt from fucking you, huh? don't worry. we'll get him punished and i'll take care of you."

johnny whines again and starts wiggling around, eyes squeezed shut as his hips desperately thrust, looking for any sort of sensation. simon's attention slams back to him, a growl rumbling from his throat as he cups johnny's dick in one hand.

"gotta get you soft, dog," he growls, and you see his hand moving around a bit until he's got johnny's balls in a vice-grip. "the ring wasn't enough for a horny bitch like you, we'll see how you like the cage."

johnny's past words, can only writhe on the bed with little animal noises slipping past his lips. simon doesn't give him any leeway, doesn't give him comfort when he starts to sob a little, just keeps squeezing.

once he's apparently soft enough, simon is quick and methodical about locking johnny's cock up. almost impersonal.

"there," he grunts when he stands up to stare down at johnny. he lands a slap to johnny's dick, gets the smaller man jolting and crying out. "in your cage now. you're not sleeping in bed with us people until you prove you can handle it."

johnny hardly struggles as simon forces him to his knees, kicking at his side to guide him to the crate looming in the corner of the room.

just moments later simon's at the bed with you. he tugs the mask off now (knows you like it sometimes, but also knows it scares you a little - rarely wears it outside of punishments) and crawls on top of you, hands soft and slow as he coaxes you to stretch out back on the bed.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low and just for you. "you're a good girl. can't help what the mutt does, huh? i know, i know. i'll take care of you now, fuck you right."

there are whines from the corner as simon flips you onto your stomach. he lifts you up to your knees, everything soft as he rubs your pussy a few times before slipping his cock into you.

he's always so heavy. you sink further into the bed when he gives you his weight, little moan slipping past your lips as your eyes roll back in your head. johnny gets louder.

"yeah, there you go. good girl, baby, so good for me, huh?"

simon fucks you deep and slow. no rush whatsoever, just nice and languid. you'd probably fall asleep if not for johnny's increasingly desperate noises, the sound of his crate rocking against the wall as he does something in there.

at one point simon sighs all annoyed into your ear, pulls out without warning. you whine and he pets a hand over your hair, whisps "just give me a second, doll, gotta shut the dog up and then i'll finish you off" before walking away.

you don't open your eyes, but you hear simon moving around the room. hear him spit, "makin' me fucking muzzle you because you can't shut up. nothing but a goddamn animal, are you?"

when simon fucks you again, johnny is silent.

he brings you to a slow and easy orgasm, fingers stroking at your achy clit. finishes inside you at nearly the same time.

he tucks you into his arms after, curls you into him and sighs, the sound all satisfied man. you fall asleep like that, johnny's predicament the furthest thing from your mind.

#asks and answers #bo writes #dlmliyh #btw simon totally lied about what time he'd be back so he could catch johnny and get him in more trouble lol #favorites

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revasserium · 7 months

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Zoro and the hunter's heart (as, you know, he's a former pirate hunter... nudge nudge)

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

a hunter's heart

opla!zoro; 6,553 words; fairytale retelling!au, fem!reader, no "y/n", hunter!zoro, fluff and angst (only a bit), hurt/comfort (kinda), mentions of witches and magic and curses

summary: there are some stories that the world can't stop telling

a/n: i should know better by now than to think an opla zoro fic could be anything but too involved... ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ tagging @dira333 bc its ur request and @bby-deerling bc u were kind enough to ask <3

It is a sordid tale, to hear the villager’s old witch tell it — one near and dear as the rise of the sun in the east, the set of the moon in the west, old as time itself. Because you see, there are some stories so ancient and so integral to the world that it bears, nay demands, retelling, reliving. Stories so stanch and certain that they wear groves into the truth of the world by the tracks they trail, over and over and over again. Stories that the world can never stop telling, no matter how hard it might want to or try.

This is one such tale.

“Take her into the forest — and bring me back her heart,” commanded the Queen.

The hunter had knelt before his queen and bowed his head, his swords heavy at his side. Inside his chest, his own heart was thundering, thundering. A storm brewing within the depths of his soul. But he’d schooled his expression straight and taken his orders.

You were nothing more than a kitchen maid, but you had the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. All morning, he could hear it echoing through the cool stone halls as you went about your baking of the day’s fresh bread, your churning of the week’s soft butter. He’d lean against the wall just outside the kitchens to listen, to let the music of your voice wash over the ragged edges of his soul, to soothe his frayed ends, to mend what parts might have been broken.

Sometimes, he’d find himself wandering toward the gardens in the back of the castle grounds just to catch an echo of your voice near the wells, where he knows you’ll be in the early afternoons, collecting water for the day’s dinner service. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear it over the clink and clash of swords as he spars with his fellow knights and hunters, and he’d catch himself slowing, almost stilling, and those are the only times anyone’s ever managed to get the upper hand on him.

“C’mon doll, give us another tune.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, sing us a sea shanty! Or another one of your show tunes!”

Zoro frowns as he rounds the corner one day to find a few young knights leaning against the castle wall, towering over where you’re standing, a half-filled bucket of water clutched in your hands. He’s about to intervene when he hears the sound of splashing water, and a second later, the young knights are stumbling back, squawking with indignation as you huff, wiping your hands daintily on your apron.

“So sorry, seems like my hand’s slipped —” you drop into a rather sardonic curtsy before marching passed the stunned young men, leaving them blinking and drenched in your wake. Zoro chuckles, the sound making both of them whirl around, color rising ruddy into their cheeks. They sober immediately as they meet Zoro’s eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow, looking them over.

“S-sorry sir… we just — we were uh —”

“Just leaving,” the second knight supplies as he grabs the first by the arm and tugs him back out into the courtyard.

Zoro watches them go with a muted amusement twisting his lips before turning back to find you peering up at him with a bright, steely light in your eyes. Your shoulder is pressed to the edge of the wall, your body half-hidden behind it as if you’re uncertain of what he might do. As if you’re uncertain of him.

“Sorry about them…” Zoro dips his head, suddenly very aware of how he must seem to you — just another one of the Queen’s toy soldiers, gilded in gold, touched by the sly silver of her cool, slithering magic. Would you think he’d be like them — like those bumbling idiots who couldn’t tell a board sword from a longsword? Who thought braveness and bravado one and the same? And suddenly, the thought that you might sickens him, and he swallows hard, hurrying to explain.

“Not all of us are…” Zoro’s voice trails off as he casts about for the right word — idiots? “Like them”? Neither seems to do it all justice.

He watches as you take half a step out from behind the stone wall’s cover and drop into a slight curtsey.

“I know.” And there’s a bright sheen to the soft whisper of your voice, a certainty that Zoro can’t quite place. And he knew then as he knows now that you — you are just a bit different. Just a bit more than he’d ever given you thought or credit for. Perhaps that was his mistake — he makes a mental note not to make it again.

“I know you’re not…” you wave a light hand towards where the other two knights had stumbled away, and the pinkness in your cheeks makes Zoro’s stomach do a few choice flips he’d never remembered his own stomach capable of till now.

There’s a moment’s pause, and then — you both break into laughter at the same time — him, a tad self-conscious, you, unbidden and bright as birdsong.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Your sparring form is really nice.”

You both speak at the same time, and in the startled quiet that stretches right after, Zoro finds himself held still by the weight of your eyes, the heaviness of your gaze as it rests on him, wide and startled and… almost pleased. He clears his throat and tries again —

“I hear you all the time —”

“I see you sometimes —”

It happens again, and when you both pause this time, he can see the burgeoning smile threatening to spill over your petal-pink lips; he can feel his own smile breaking like ice in spring’s first thaw.

“I don’t know much about music but —”

“It looks like you’re dancing —”

By the third time, Zoro’s starting to wonder if you’re doing this on purpose, or perhaps he is — because what wouldn’t he do to keep on basking in the sunshine of your laughter, to soak in the brilliance of your smile? What stars and moons and planets wouldn’t conspire to align just for another chance to glance into the midnight dark of your eyes, as depthless as any sea, as wide as any self-respecting night?

“Well —” Zoro clears his throat; you purse your lips and wait for him to finish, “I’ve never danced…”

Mischief hinges on the edge of your smile as you peer up at him through your lashes, “You should try it sometime. I hear it’s quite the workout.”

And there’s something singing beneath the sweetness of your voice that hints at a darker, more intimate meaning to the word dance, but Zoro stops himself before his mind can unspool entirely. He sucks in a breath and chews over the words now sitting solid and unwieldy on his tongue —

“I’ve always thought dancing… required music and —” he swallows and forces his sentence onward like shepherding a stubborn and reluctant bull, “a partner.”

You let your held lilt sideways, watching him like a bird on a branch might consider a squirrel on the ground.

“It’s just… I’ve never quite had either before,” he hurries to explain, feeling heat creeping into his cheeks and finally, he forces his eyes away from you, glancing up towards the piercingly blue sky, completely devoid of clouds. He curses inwardly, his eyes wandering for something — anything — to latch onto that’s not you and your mesmerizing eyes, with the universe caught behind them, or your lips, shaped so much like the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking for his whole, entire life.

He watches as you square your shoulders and take a half-step into his personal space, just the tips of your toes grazing into the proximity of too close and at the same time not nearly close enough — then, you dip into a curtsey, lowering your eyes so he has nothing to ground himself on except for the brief breath of your skin, the waft of your hair sweeping down over your shoulders, smelling so much like cotton and milk, salt and honey.

“But now, from where I’m standing…” you look up, and your smile is so much poisoned apples and cyanide, “you’ve got both, don’t you?”

Zoro sucks in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his head spinning for a second too long and he almost stumbles. Almost. But he catches himself, and when he does, his body moves as a marionette on a string — as if his arms and legs already knew what his mind had for so long kept from him —

He dips into a bow, sweeping one arm over his stomach, the other out to the side. And there’s no dull, discordant clank of armor because hunters and soldiers are made different. Fighters, both, but hunters require a different kind of bloodlust, are a different strain of heartless.

You let out a soft laugh and Zoro wonders if there’s any better music in the world as he offers you his hand. You take it, and he draws your body near with reverent palms, exhaltant fingers — he can almost feel the wild birdwing beat of your heart fluttering in your chest, supplemented by the thundering of his own much more well-trained heartbeat, but even so, the dull pulse of it makes him feel heady with excitement — thump, thump, thump.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the pair of you begin to dance. At first, just to the soft inhale and exhale of your breaths and his. And then, you smile up at him, a startling, chest-piercing, swan-song thing — as you begin to sing.

His first step is hesitant, and the second less so. By the third, Zoro feels his shoulders flattening out and his chest rising as he clasps your palms against his and takes the lead. You let him, with a tinkling laugh, your smile light and bright as daybreak. Your feet skip like pebbles across a mirror lake, and by the time he lets you go, the midday sun is beating down over the castle grounds and the lunch bell is ringing off in the distance. You skip out of his reach and drop into another curtsey —

“Seems like it’s past time for me to go.”

“But —” Zoro bites back the urge to chase after you, his body surging forward to try and stay within the warmth of your orbit.

“Tomorrow,” you breathe, your cheeks a bit too pink, grinning up at him with mischief in your eyes, “after the morning meal… I think I might have some more water to collect.”

You shoot him a meaningful wink as you sweep by him, humming beneath your breath as you go. You brush by him with a sweep of skirt-tails, and it’s a full minute before Zoro can form a coherent thought, whipping around to see the shadow of you disappearing around the corner of the long corridor that leads down to the kitchens.

Up above, neither of you sees the Queen with her blood-red nails clicking against the wide windowsill, her eyes trailing the shape of Zoro as he sucks in a long breath, and shakes himself, before heading back to the training grounds, his earrings catching the afternoon light in a series of gold-gilded sparks.

The next day, Zoro finds you dancing to a two-step by yourself, a bucket of water propped on your hip, the late morning sun caressing your skin like a lover’s fingers. And he finds himself held still by the sight of you, your eyes closed, your body swaying to the rhythm and breath of the earth, the sound of your voice filling the air as water might an already-full glass — spilling over and over till it soaks the earth between you both.

He clears his throat, and you open your eyes. You smile.

Almost sheepishly, he offers you a hand. You take it, and the half-filled bucket is left to teeter precariously on the well’s stone-worn edge as you laugh, letting Zoro pull you in, his palm pressing to the bend of your waist, fingers skimming the small of your back.

Three days, you dance. Three days of blissful mornings and sun-soaked afternoons. Three nights of moonlit walks and roses dipped in starlight.

Because the best things in the world always come in threes — but it just so happens that so do the worst.

Zoro feels his skin crawling when he receives the summons from the Queen. There is only one reason the Queen would summon a hunter like him — she’s found something (or someone) worthy of being hunted. He prays it will not take him away for long.

“Zoro…” the Queen purrs, barely turning to look at him as he bows his head, holding the pose for three beats before straightening. She reaches up to grace her fingers over the edges of an ornate mirror hanging on her wall — a mirror she covets. Zoro has seen its magic, the dull, rough-edged ache thrumming through the earth and the air like poison. He schools his expression into one of flat disinterest as he squares his shoulders.

“Your Highness.”

“I trust you’re familiar with my mirror?”

Zoro makes a soft noise of consent, cold slipping down his spine like cool fingers.

“Then… I trust you know what it does?” the Queen asks, peering at him through it’s dark, onyx reflection.

Zoro glances down, “I can’t say I do, Your Highness.”

“Well then, I’d say you’re in for a treat today —” she chuckles, the sound soft and slithering, her painted lips twisting up in a cruel smirk, “this is a magic mirror, you see… and it’s magic… tells the truth —”

Zoro remains quiet, waiting, waiting.

“Mirror, mirror…”

Zoro feels the air around him condensing, the temperature dropping as the heat siphons from the room into the mirror. The darkened surface swirls with a sickly, purple light before a pallid face appears, empty eye sockets and a hollow mouth. The skeletal reflection peers imperiously back up at the image of the Queen standing before it.

“… tell me, who is the fairest in all the land?”

The Queen preens in front of the mirror, and Zoro feels his stomach filling with lead weight at her question.

Once upon a time, he’d met a kindly old witch in the woods. Her hut had been made of something that looked curiously like gingerbread, and the flowers that decorated her windowsill had glimmered with the shine of tempered sugar. He had offered to help her carry a basket of waxy red apples from the market to her hut and in return, she’d offered him the answer to one question.

“What… exactly is magic?” he’d asked, young and uncertain.

She’d laughed a laugh that might’ve once been high and imperious but then had only sounded like an amused old woman faced with a question she hadn’t quite expected.

“Magic… well — I’ll tell you this — magic is always more than meets the eye, and never what it promises.”

Zoro had blinked, frowning as she’d peered up at him with a pair of mismatched eyes — one milky and filmed over, the other dark as crow’s feathers.

“What does… that mean?”

“It means… that sometimes, magic lies. Sometimes… magic only tells you what you want to hear. Sometimes, magic is more about what you think is true because in the end… that’s the only truth that matters.”

The magic mirror contemplates the Queen’s question as Zoro stands behind her, holding his breath.

“There is but one fairer than Your Highness —”

Zoro’s vision tunnels, the voice of the mirror thickening around him as if his head were suddenly submerged in water. Heat creeps up the back of his neck like spider’s legs, quick and skittering, and he knows the answer before the mirror says your name.

“I see…” the Queen muses, though Zoro can hear the hard edge in her voice, the light catching on it like a twisting blade as she turns back around to face him. And she is beautiful, there’s no denying — the Queen’s face was, up until very recently, what Zoro had thought true beauty must be like.

He’d understood it only in the most abstract, academic sense — beauty — had only ever nodded when the other knights and hunters had wolf-whistled at the rosy-cheeked maids that dotted the castle, scattered along the halls like handfuls of sugar.

The first time he saw the Queen, he’d wondered at the perfect proportions of her eyes and nose, the dark, certain arch of her brows, the cruel tug at the ends of her painted lips and he’d thought — ah, is this what all the fuss is about?

But then he’d seen you, hadn’t he? And your face — he knows it is not perfect, he’s leaned in close enough to see the texture that mars your cheeks, the way one side of your mouth always lilts up first in a smile, the flecks that adorn your eyes like lost shards of sunlight caught beneath your lashes —

Beautiful, he’d thought.

Later, he wonders if that moment might’ve been your doom.

“Take her into the forest,” the Queen says, smiling her cruel, cruel smile as she watches Zoro lower his head, “and bring me back her heart.”

Zoro swallows hard as he bows.

You are waiting for him the next morning, just after breakfast, your hands laced behind your back, an empty bucket resting precariously along the edge of the well.

“No dancing today,” Zoro says, his voice clipped and low, his gaze darting away toward the darkness of the forest behind you. You blink up at him before following his gaze.

“Then… will you accompany me on a walk?”

Zoro frowns, nearly wincing away from you as you lean in, grinning your sly fox’s grin.

“But…”

“Oh, don’t tell me a hunter like you’s scared of the forest.” You dance away from him before he can protest, reaching for the bucket and propping it on your right hip, “C’mon, I promised the head cook I’d pick some berries for the feast tonight. Didn’t you hear? The Queen’s finally found a spell for eternal youth and beauty.”

Zoro stares after you as you pick your way across the garden, making for the wrought-iron gates that separate the castle grounds from the wilderness beyond.

“A spell for…” Zoro’s frown deepens as you glance at him over your shoulder with a sad little smile.

“They say the Queen was cursed by a powerful witch to always search for that which she can never have.”

Zoro keeps behind you as you meander into the shadow of the trees, seemingly following a trail only you can see, occasionally stopping to bend over a burst of bright red berries, picking a few and tossing them into your bucket before pressing one to your lips. He watches as berry juice dark as blood tints your lips and trickles down the edge of your mouth.

“Did you know… that there are only three ways to break a witch’s curse? One is for the witch herself to lift the curse.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, your eyes shine like twin stars.

“Another is to kill the witch and all those who cared for her.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, the lopsided lilt of your smile flashes white, and sharp, dripping dark red —

Zoro’s sword is in his hand before he realizes, and suddenly, every twig-snap and leaf-rustle sets his bones on edge. The wind tastes sweet on his tongue, swirls thick with magic as he whirls around, searching for the silhouette of you and finding nothing but endless, pressing dark.

“Zoro?” your voice nearly makes him stumble as he twists around, eyes wide, chest heaving, only to find the tip of his sword resting against the delicate hyphen of your clavicle. Your breath hitches, soft as he’d always remembered it, but you don’t pull away; you don’t even flinch as you stare up at him, as if waiting for him to do something.

“Are you going to kill me?” your voice is low and smooth, without a single flicker of fear.

Zoro’s grip loosens as he forces himself to pull back. He hisses out a breath and shakes loose his shoulders.

“No,” he says, his own voice coarse, clipped, “I’m not. But —”

“Oh good — that would’ve made things rather awkward for our date.”

Zoro gapes as you laugh, twirling around to continue on your way through the forest. He hastens after you a few seconds later, brushing aside low-hanging branches and shouldering passed thicker bits of underbrush.

“D-date?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sounding very pleased as you lead him on, and on, and on, “you wouldn’t want to miss it — grandma’s baking pie.”

“What… ” but his words trail off once more as you turn and make towards a clearing that he’s certain wasn’t there a moment ago — a clearing with a tiny hut that looks as if it’s made of gingerbread. The flowers on the windowsill glitter jewel-bright and candy-hard.

“My grandma’s house,” you say, smiling as you push through the door with your bucket of blood-red berries still perched on your hip.

Zoro’s frown carves ever harder into his brows as he follows after you on hesitant feet, though he can’t help the way his muscles loosen the second he steps over the small hut’s threshold and catches a whiff of something wonderful in the air — cinnamon and sugar and apples.

“Ah, you’ve made it just in time!” the old witch looks up from where she’s tending a vast fire that casts the entire hut in a warm, ethereal glow. Zoro glances back at the open patch of cloudless blue sky somehow visible in a small gap between the trees before stepping in.

“Apple pie again, grandma?”

“Your favorite,” the old witch replies with a grin as you set the bucket on the small wooden table, “And I see you’ve brought a guest, though…” the old witch’s single black eye catches the firelight as she peers are Zoro, still standing just inside the doorway.

“It’s nice to see you again, young man.”

Zoro bows, rather awkwardly, and though it’s been many years since he’d helped the old woman with her apples, she looks exactly the same. He can’t say quite the same for himself.

“Come, sit! Have some berry wine,” you say, ushering Zoro towards the table, where you’ve somehow replaced the bucket with two jars of red liquid that glimmers like garnets in the flickering firelight. You pour a glass and nudge it towards Zoro, who simply stares, trying very hard to wrap his head around what must be happening.

A dull, thrumming ache is gathering at the base of his skull, but the pie smells so sweet and the wine looks ever so tantalizing.

He reaches out and takes a sip, letting the cool liquid slip down his throat. He feels it slither through him, sending tiny pin-pricks of heat trailing along his limbs as he swallows.

“Ah… so he’s not like the rest of them.”

He blinks down at the wine in his cup for a second more before you reach out and tug it from his hand. A soft palm cups his cheek and forces his face up. He meets your eyes and finds them searching.

“You weren’t lying… you really hadn’t planned on killing me.”

You sound almost surprised as your grandma chuckles behind you, the noise like the clack of old stones against one another.

“I told you he was different,” the old witch says, slowly slicing a bit of pie and putting it on a plate.

“All men think they’re different,” you say, your voice resigned as you take the slice of pie and set it in front of Zoro, “Right, now eat — it’ll make you feel better. I’m sorry about that… just… you can never be sure.”

The old witch tuts, shaking her head, “A broken heart is it’s own kind of curse, you know.”

Zoro blearily takes a bite of cake and feels his senses returning to him one by one; he takes stock of them as if he’d forgotten entirely that he’d lost them in the first place. As he chews and swallows once, twice — by the third time he can feel the tightness in his muscles returning as panic and confusion flood his system.

He jerks up from the table and reaches for his sword.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” you say, though you sound hesitant as you hold up a hand, your expression earnest as you take half a step back.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he seethes, looking between you and the old witch, uncertain of who to aim his anger at.

“I had to be sure,” you say again, your voice imploring as you inch forward, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah well —” Zoro gulps past the dryness in his mouth as he narrows his eyes, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

You wince ever so slightly, looking away, “No, you’re right but… please,” you say again, and the word works like magic as it settles over Zoro’s shoulders. He wonders if it’s actual magic, but no — there’s no strange sweetness in the air, no thick fog threatening to cloud over his judgment.

“It might be quicker to show him,” the old witch suggests, still watching the pair of you with her one oil-black eye, sounding pleasant and entirely unfazed.

“Right… yes —” you sigh, motioning for the door, “The sty is just out behind the hut — you can go out first if you’d like,” you offer.

Zoro looks between you and the door before inching back and edging open the door with his foot, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you follow him with light, muted movements.

The air outside is crisp and cool and Zoro can’t help sucking in a breath as he steps out from the halo of the firelit hut. Grass crunches beneath his feet, birds sing overhead. There’s the lingering heat of magic still crackling in the air, but when his gaze falls back onto you, he finds you no less lovely than he’d done the first time.

“This way,” you say, rounding the edge of the hut and leading him towards a sizeable pigsty that he’d completely failed to notice the first time he’d been here as a young boy.

A looming sense of dread calcifies in the base of his stomach as he approaches the pigsty on heavy feet. The pigs all jostle against one another, snorting and snuffling with their noses pressed into the long feeding pen. From the pockets of your skirt, you produce a handful of bright red berries and toss it into the pen. Zoro watches with mixed fascination and mounting horror as the pigs tumble over each other to forage for the fruit in the dried hay and mud.

“Have you ever heard the saying that… there are some stories the world never stops telling?” your voice is quiet and sad as you reach over to skim your knuckles along the pale pink snout of a snorting pig.

And suddenly, Zoro understands — he doesn’t know if it was a trick of the light or perhaps the magic still working its way through his system but the understanding comes like a rainstorm, a few tiny droplets before the downpour. And were he a weaker man, he might’ve back and tried to make a run for it. But instead, he stands and stares with a strange pity welling up inside him at the lolling tongues and flopping ears.

“These were all men — hunters,” he says, his words slow at first, but picking up speed as he continues to speak, “Who tried to lure you into the wood to —”

“To kill me, yes, so that they could give the Queen my heart. Because you see, the heart of a witch would give her what she so desperately desires —”

“Eternal youth,” Zoro breathes.

“And the first time, I was heartbroken,” you turn away from him, pressing a hand to your heart, “But I managed to get away. And instead of going back empty-handed to face the Queen’s wrath, the hunter caught a wild boar in the forest and cut out its heart instead. Only — an old she-wolf had been hunting the boar for days, and was robbed of a meal. She and I… we came across each other and I was so — so hurt that I offered her my heart in return for putting me out of my misery.”

Zoro presses his lips as your words rush from you in a great wave, pieces of truths crystalizing before him even as they continue to shatter the world he thought he’d known.

“She told me then that… no man is worth dying for, especially not one who would lie to you just to steal your heart. And she offered to teach me —” you wave a hand at the pigsty, “And the rest…”

The soft silence that stretches between you is thin and pained. You cradle your hands to your chest as if trying to stem the hurt of some unspeakable heartbreak.

“And… the wine?” he asks.

Your face lifts and a strike of that familiar, mischievous light returns to your eyes as you grin.

“That was something I brewed up on my own — if the drinker bears me any ill intentions, then it’ll turn them into something a bit more… fitting of their true hearts. But if not then…” you grace him with a soft smile, “Then it’ll only ever just be wine, though a bit on the stronger side.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

A brief silence falls between the pair of you as the sky above begins to shift from blue to a soft lavender.

“You said… the first time,” Zoro says, curiosity now burgeoning from beneath the receding shock of the day, “Do you make a habit of luring men into the woods, then?”

You scoff, “Luring? Hardly. Magic can only do so much, and though the odd enchanted trinket will sell well at the monthly market, people still tend to be wary around witches.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Zoro says dryly, his eyes flickering toward the sty where the pigs, finally satisfied that there are no more berries to be found, have settled into the thick stacks of hay, grumbling and snorting.

You allow him a derisive smile, “Yes well — a girl and her grandmother still have to eat and bathe, and you can only stand so much apple pie before it starts to get a little old. So… I keep a job at the castle. Believe it or not, serving a self-obsessed Queen pays well. And all those… men —” you force out the word like spitting out poison, “Had seemed… good. At least at first.”

Zoro remains quiet as you pause, looking down at your own hands. It’s the first time he notices the light calluses that mar your palms, not so different from his own. He wonders at the smoothness of the handles on the wooden bucket you’d carried so easily through the woods, at how long it must’ve taken for a pair of hands like yours to wear them down so. The old witch’s words echo in his mind — a broken heart is it’s own kind of curse.

“Is that how you got so good at dancing?” he asks.

You grin, giving him a sidelong glance, “Perhaps.”

Zoro sighs, tilting his head back to look at the small patch of visible sky, now a deep, bruising purple.

“So. Now what?”

You echo his sigh, looking up as well, “You can go back, if you’d like.”

“And what? Tell the Queen that you got away?”

Your smile hardens ever so slightly, “Or, you could kill something else in the forest and offer her it’s heart instead.”

“But wouldn’t she know? After she ate it and doesn’t gain eternal youth?”

You shrug, looking away, “You’d be surprised what a person can trick themselves into believing, if they just try hard enough.”

Zoro nods, letting his eyes fall back down to his hand, resting idle against the hilt of his sword.

“Or, I could stay.”

He doesn’t know what makes him say it — and perhaps it was the darkness of the forest, the close, flustered whisper of the leaves, or perhaps it was the lingering sweetness of your home-brewed wine and the tantalizing smell of magic and cinnamon still in the air. But he says it, and he finds that even the strange, still shocked moment after, he doesn’t regret it.

“You… you want to stay?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so uncertain before.

“Why not? I can’t go back and…” he motions at the hut and the soft ring of warm firelight seeping out from the tiny windows, “The wine’s not bad.”

And perhaps for the first time, Zoro thinks, he sees you smile — a smile that isn’t sharp and full of hidden teeth. A smile that’s helpless and hopeful and just a little bit pained. He smiles back and hopes —

“C’mon then… you can help with the fire. And carry the water.”

“Hn. But you seemed so good at it.”

You shoot him a slight pout as the pair of you duck back into the hut to the smell of roasting vegetables.

There are some stories the world can never stop telling, stories so old that the sing harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

Once upon a time, there was a wolf, a grandmother, and a girl in the woods. Once upon a time, an old witch built a house of gingerbread to lure in the lives of unheedful children. Once upon a time, there was a Queen with a magic mirror. Once upon a time, a witch lived alone in a secluded hut and lured men to her table only to turn them into the pigs they’d always been inside.

Once upon a time, a boy asked a girl to dance.

Once, a boy told the truth and the girl didn’t believe him, because all the boys who’d broken her heart before had given her no reason not to. And a heart can only be broken so many times before it, too, gets tired.

Once, she thought that broken hearts could never be mended.

But she should’ve known that stories, like the magic they hold, very rarely tell the truth. Or perhaps, they too only tell the truths that the listener wants to hear, or is ready to hear. Never more, never less.

So, here is another story — one that’s not so frequently told, but is just as true as the others —

Once, there was a boy who was born with a sword in his hand, who had never know that his body could hold so much music or laughter. Then, he met a girl with the most beautiful voice in all the land, and he, like so many before him, fell in love. Only, the girl had been hurt by all those before him, and no longer trusted the words of boys with sword-hilt smiles and rough, callused fingers. But when he asked her to dance, she agreed anyway, and when she introduced him to her grandmother and offered him wine, he did not hesitate. Instead, he asked if he could stay the night.

That was a long, long time ago.

There will always be another girl with a pretty voice and a viper’s smile at the castle beyond the woods, and always another young knight too eager to please his Queen. There will always be apples at the morning market and magic in the air. But perhaps the pieces don’t fall right where they ought to; perhaps they never did. Perhaps the stories we tell are only ever stories.

“You told me once that there were three ways to lift a curse,” Zoro asks one day, a wooden bucket in one hand, three swords strapped to his opposite hip.

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking up from the large pot of soup bubbling over the fire, a song threading beneath your breath as you sway back and forth.

Zoro grunts as he puts the bucket on the worn wooden table, walking over to slip an around your middle and hook his chin over your shoulder. You laugh as you let yourself be pulled back into his embrace.

“You only ever told me two.”

“Ah… right —” you smile, a smile that is no longer jagged but worn soft around the edges, as if all the sharpness has been smoothed over by years and years of tenderness, years and years of trust, of love.

“So?”

“So…” you place down the wooden spoon and turn to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders as his large, callused palms settle around your waist. The pair of you sway to a song that only the two of you can hear, a song that sings harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

“The third way to break a curse is the easiest… but also the hardest way, depending on who you are,” you say, smiling and swaying in Zoro’s arms. Like this, you can see the late afternoon light as it pours through the small window and catches on the dull gold of his triplet earrings.

“It’s a simple thing, really,” you say, as Zoro leans down to press his forehead to yours, your breaths dancing in the negative space between your bodies. Outside, an old witch sits on a rocking chair and admires the sunset. Occasionally, she reaches into her skirt pockets for a handful of berries to toss into the pigsty to her right.

“Oh yeah? How simple?” Zoro asks.

“Why…” you lean up on your tiptoes, your nose brushing his, your lips mere inches apart. Behind you, bottles and bottles of home-brewed wine sit along the mantle of the great stone fireplace, the color bright and true and freshly spilled blood.

“It’s as simple as a kiss from your one true love, of course.”

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gurugirl · 1 year

Note

Can you please write something where Harry comes home and finds y/n working out. She’s all sweaty and he just finds her absolutely sexy. So he fucks her. Plain and simple.

Summary: Stepdad!harry comes home to see you all sweaty after a run. He can't control himself.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get to but here it is!! 888 words

Warning: Smut, cheating, inappropriate relationship between a stepdad and a stepdaughter - this is stepdad!harry x reader so if this isn't your thing turn away now XX

You enjoyed an afternoon run most days. It made you feel alive and wiped all of your worries away for a little while. And today you got a really good one in. You were a bit sweatier than normal but your whole body tingled from the increased blood flow as you walked into the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

You hadn’t heard Harry coming in as you guzzled half your glass in one go. But you nearly dropped it when you felt his hands land on your hips and his voice vibrated off your ear, “Your mom is coming home soon. You can’t be walking around here like this in front of me, Y/n.”

You laughed as you turned, “Like what, Daddy?”

You knew what he meant. You were wearing a crop shirt and your spandex shorts, which were quite short. The gray spandex was darker where you’d been sweating which you hated about them but Harry seemed to love it.

He moved his hands up to your low back and ran a finger up your slippery, sweaty spine, “Dripping wet, barely wearing anything. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You laughed as Harry practically dragged you into your bedroom, “Thought you wanted me to get cleaned up? The bathroom is over there,” you gestured across the hall from your room.

Harry grunted as he unbuckled his pants and walked toward you. He took your shirt in his hands and pulled it off over your head and continued walking you backward toward your bed.

When Harry pulled his own shirt off he nudged you into your bed and then turned you to face down with your bottom up, “Hands and knees,” he spoke in finality.

You propped yourself up so you were on your hands and knees as he commanded and turned to watch him behind you as he pushed his pants down and then pulled his big cock out of the front of his briefs. You were still wearing your sweaty tiny spandex shorts as Harry squared up behind you and grasped your ass cheeks with his hands.

He squeezed and massaged before slowly bringing his fingers under the fabric at your thighs and pushing it to the side. His tongue slid against your wet pussy and he moaned when he tasted you, “So dirty, Y/n. Gonna clean you up now.”

You gasped and panted as Harry’s tongue lapped at your drenched and sweaty folds. You honestly didn’t know it could be so hot to have him licking at your sweat but it was, and Harry seemed to like it. He kept his hand on the material pulled away from you so he could access your pussy. Luckily the material was stretchy enough for him to keep it on you because he clearly wanted to have you while you were wearing the shorts.

You pushed your bum against him as he sucked and licked into you and Harry sat back so his cock was lying over your bum. He continued pulling at the material as he used his free hand to swipe his tip through your pussy lips and he moaned at the sight of you.

When he suddenly pushed in, you had only sort of been prepared for it. But he was extra hard and the intrusion had your legs feeling wobbly.

Harry slid himself into and out of your wet little pussy quickly, the material of your shorts was now not only wet from sweat but from the arousal which was coating Harry’s cock and getting smeared onto your shorts.

You braced yourself with each roll of his hips. He worked himself in deeply, grinding into you when his hips met your ass. You cried out when his pounding didn’t let up and your body was being jolted forward at each plunge. Your squeaky mattress was bouncing under your knees and Harry’s own groans were slowly getting louder as he was finding his own orgasm closing in.

Reaching between your legs you sighed when you felt your fingers slip against your clit. You immediately started to shiver with pleasure from his cock splitting you open and pressing in deep.

Harry enjoyed the view of his cock disappearing into your pussy and the way your shorts were covered in your cream where the material was closest to the action. The bit of friction from the fabric on his cock felt good and he gasped when he finally began to unload himself into you.

You felt him pumping into you and squeezing your eyes closed you increased the speed of your fingers and began to come right after him, clenching around his thick shaft and shaking with ecstasy.

Harry was lazily thrusting into you, his orgasm finally waning, the wet and sloppy noises still dirty and obvious between your bodies when you both heard the front door close. Your mother had come home.

Harry quickly withdrew and pulled his pants up and then threw his t-shirt on before leaving your room.

You fell flat to the bed and sighed as you closed your eyes with a small smile on your face. You hated that he had to rush away but you were happy he couldn’t resist you and awarded you with an indulgent quickie before your mom came home.

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newobsessionweekly · 6 months

Text

Secret signals

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You and Tim have been best friends for as long as you can remember. Little did you know he feels the same way about you.

Warning: None. Pure fluff. Not proofread yet

Fluff

A/N: Yes, i'm back with another fluff. And yes it's shorter than the last one (i hope so) . Anyways, I love this one. I love all of them and I hope you enjoy it as well! Also i suck at title so forgive me. I have a surprise coming up so stay tuned. Also, the feedback is always welcome and would help me out. Have a wonderful day, bubs. and lots of love 🫧 Requested: Yes Words: 2.3k GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

You made your way through the crowded streets, heading to the police station, a direct order and classified information dictating your day.

Inside the station, the air is alive with activity, officers bustling about as they go about their duties. The scent of coffee and paperwork fills the air, a familiar aroma that feels like home. You navigate the labyrinthine halls with ease, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you make your way toward a specific desk.

And there's Tim, your best friend and partner in crime. He's every bit as striking as you remember, with his broad shoulders and commanding presence. His piercing blue eyes hold a hint of world-weariness, a testament to the countless battles he's fought both on and off the streets of LA.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight, Tim frowning over some files, trying to find a way to catch that woman. Gladly for him, you were sent there to give them a hand.

Playfully, you snuck up on him, sliding into the chair beside Tim with a mischievous grin. "Hey there, partner." you greeted him, nudging his shoulder.

Tim's head shot up, a surprised, almost intelligible, smile breaking through his expression as he grumbles something indecipherable, but you know him well enough to recognize the hint of amusement in his eyes. "Can't a guy get some peace and quiet around here?" he mutters.

"Don't be so exited to see me, I might think you like me or something." you played the sarcastic card as you reached over to snatch the file from his hands.

"So, what brings you to the lion's den today?" Tim asks, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as he leans against his desk, arms crossed.

You lean in closer, your fingers brushing against his arm as you secretively whispered, "I heard there's a handsome police officer in need of my assistance. Thought I'd drop by and grace you all with my presence," you quip, earning an amused snort from him.

A playful smirk crosses Tim's lips as his breath winds warm against your ear. "Right, because we all know this place wouldn't be the same without you."

As Tim leans in closer, his voice low and husky, you find yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, captivated by the warmth of his presence and the depth of emotion in his eyes. And as he grins at you, that familiar twinkle of mischief dancing in his gaze, you can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man who's been by your side through thick and thin. You chuckle, knowing Tim's gruff exterior hides a soft spot for you. "Actually, I'm here on official business," you admit, your expression turning serious.

As you steal a moment to admire Tim, you can't help but notice how the dim light of the station casts a soft glow on his rugged features, accentuating the lines of his jaw and the shadow of stubble along his chin. His tousled hair falls across his forehead in a way that makes your fingers itch to reach out and brush it away, but you resist the urge.

Tim's interest is piqued as he straightens up, all traces of humor fading from his face. "What kind of business?" he asks, his tone more serious now.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing "Well, you know how my department has been working on that recent string of burglaries? I think I might have stumbled upon some information that could help you catch the woman behind it," you explain, your words coming out in a rush as you anxiously await Tim's reaction.

Tim's expression shifts, his eyes narrowing as he processes your words. "You think you've found something?" he asks, his voice tinged with a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

You nod eagerly, a surge of adrenaline coursing through you as you showed him the files. "Yeah, I've been going through the data from our latest investigations, and I noticed a pattern," you explain, your excitement palpable.

His lips twitch into a half-smile, a flicker of pride evident in his eyes as he looks at you. "You're amazing, you know that?" he says, his voice low and sincere.

Tim's eyes soften as he looks at you, a warmth radiating from him that makes your heart skip a beat. You find yourself getting lost in the depths of his piercing blue eyes, unable to tear your gaze away.

There's a subtle warmth in his touch, a lingering of his hand on your arm as he gestures or a light brush of his fingers against yours when passing papers. It's a touch that speaks volumes, conveying a depth of affection that goes beyond mere friendship.

Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, you can't deny the way your heart races at the sight of him, or the way your skin tingles with electricity whenever your hands accidentally brush against each other. It's as if every touch, every fleeting glance, only serves to deepen the unspoken connection between you, binding you together in a way that defies explanation.

Your voice barely more than a breath as you lean into his touch, savoring the feeling of his fingers against your skin. In that moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble of warmth and affection.

As you and Tim discuss the details of the case, a beautiful woman approaches with a stack of papers in hand. "Sir, I finished up the paperwork from this morning's arrest," she says, flashing a bright smile, confident and proud of herself.

You switched looks between the woman and Tim, admiring him and how his muscles were more visible. He switched in his seat to face Chen, as written on the tag. With one hand still laying on your waist, slowly moving up and down, sending cold shivers down your spine despite the warmth, he took the papers from her with his free hand and inspected them with a serious expression.

"Quit frowning, you'll get even more wrinkles." you told him as your elbows rested on his desk, your hands cupping your cheeks. You can't resist the urge to tease Tim, your playful banter a familiar comfort amidst the tension of the moment.

You smiled at him as he ignored your remark, he turns at the woman nodding his head, acknowledging her with a grunt. "Officer Chen, this is Y/N," he introduces, gesturing towards you. "She's an old friend of mine, works in the forensic department."

Lucy offers you a friendly smile and extends her hand. "I'm Lucy. Nice to meet you," she says warmly.

You shake her hand with a smile of your own. "Likewise," you reply, noting the earnestness in Lucy's eyes. "So this is your rookie." you turned to your best friend and then your attention focused on his rookie once more, "Tim speaks about you all the time."

Tim clears his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, we should get going," he says, his voice a tad too loud in the suddenly awkward silence. "We've got patrol duty."

Angela overhears your name and practically materializes at Tim's desk, her curiosity piqued. "Why did no one tell me Y/N is here?" she asks, her eyes wide with interest.

Before you could think, you jump from your seat, missing Tim's warmth as you embraced Officer Lopez in a tight hug "Honey, glad to see you. It's been too long." you told her, gently caressing her back as you withdrew from the hug.

Pulling back, Angela's gaze flickering between you and Tim with a knowing glint in her eye. "I know, I've been busier than ever," she says with a chuckle. "But I might have some free time tonight. Gotta go, but I'll give you a call!"

Angela shows your best friend a mischievous grin as he clenches his jaw, uncomfortable at the attention you received. "Boot, prepare the shop for patrol." he barked at Lucy.

"Yes, sir." she nodded, following Angela's steps.

As you gathered your belongings, Tim could calmly breathe as the two of you had been left alone. It wasn't the fact he didn't adore your friendliness and caring side, he was jealous when he had to share that with anyone.

"Hey, uh," he called out, his tone tinged with an underlying nervousness.

Turning to face him, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to search yours, as if seeking reassurance or perhaps something more.

"I was thinking," he began, his words trailing off for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued. "I was thinking we could grab a drink after our shift. You know, just to unwind."

His suggestion caught you off guard, and for a moment, you struggled to find the right words.

"That sounds great, Tim," you said, exited at the thought of escaping the daily chaos "We should ask Angela too."

As soon as the words left your mouth, his expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," he replied, his tone betraying a hint of resignation.

Lucy couldn't help but steal glances back at you and as she made her way to the patrol shop. "So, Angela" she began, her voice filled with unstoppable curiosity " What's the deal with them?"

Angela chuckles softly as she saw the spark in Chen's eyes "Oh, they've been friends for as long as I can remember. They're practically inseparable."

Lucy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise "You wouldn't tell he'd have friends… at all."

Lopez helps Lucy with the bags as they made their way to the shop "Oh, they go way back."

"Really?"

"Let's just say there's a lot more to their relationship than meets the eye," she says cryptically, enjoying the opportunity to tease Tim.

Lucy's eyes widen in realization, her gaze flickering back to you and Tim standing by the entrance of the station. Tim's smile is wide, his eyes lighting up like torches as your cheeks rose a bright, red colour "You don't mean…" she begins, trailing off as the pieces start to fall into place.

Angela simply nods, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Exactly," she replies, her tone filled with amusement. "But don't take my word for it. Just keep an eye on them, and you'll see for yourself."

As Lucy and Tim hit the streets on patrol, he is back to his grumpy self, his jaw clenched as he drove through the streets of LA. His rookie tries to lighten the mood with small talk, but Tim's responses are short and curt.

"My private life is none of your business."

"Come on, Tim," Officer Chen insisted, casting a sidelong glance at him. "You've been avoiding this conversation all day. What's going on with you and Y/N?"

Tim lets out a frustrated sigh, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "There's nothing going on," he replies tersely, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The rookie raises an eyebrow, unconvinced by his response. "Bull," she retorts. "I've seen the way you look at her. You can't hide it from me."

Tim's jaw tightens even further, his knuckles turning white against the dark leather of the steering wheel. "Look, Officer Chen," he begins, his voice strained. "I don't know what you think you saw, but Y/N and I are just very close friends. That's it."

Lucy lets out an exasperated sigh, frustration bubbling up inside her. "You can't tell me you don't feel something for her. I've never seen you light up the way you do when she's around."

Tim's expression softens slightly at her words, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he quickly masks it with a scowl. "Feelings don't matter," he says brusquely. "Even if I did have feelings for her, which I don't, there's no way she feels the same way about me. I'm no dating material. "

Lucy shakes her head, her voice firm. "You're wrong, Tim," she says, her gaze unwavering. "You're worth more than you think, and Y/N knows that. You just have to give her a chance."

Tim falls silent, his thoughts swirling as he grapples with Lucy's words. Maybe she's right, he thinks, maybe he's been too quick to dismiss the possibility of something more with you. But the fear of ruining your friendship looms large in his mind, holding him back from taking that leap of faith.

He suddenly pulled the car on the right side, making Lucy frown. As she watched Tim forming Angela's number, a cloud of questions blurring the rookie's mind, eager to hear what he had to say.

"Hey, Angela." he began, a nervous edge creeping into his voice as he ran a hand through his hair "Listen, don't ask any questions, ok? If Y/N calls to invite you out tonight, please, just say no" his foot tapped impatiently as he awaited her response. "Thanks, I'll owe you one."

"What was that?" Lucy asked as Tim pocketed his phone and revved the engine.

"I just made sure I have a date with Y/N tonight." With a grin, he pulled back onto the road, leaving Lucy to process his unexpected move.

#tim bradford #tim #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford x reader #tim imagine #tim bradford imagines #tim bradford imagine #tim x reader #tim one shot #tim the rookie #the rookie one shot #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #tim bradford one shots #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fluff #the rookie fluff #tim the rookie fluff #fluff

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augustinewrites · 2 years

Text

fushigojo halloween, pre-shibuya style heh

“why can’t i go with you?” gojo complains from his spot on the edge of the tub, pouting as you check your reflection in the mirror. “you’re getting dinner and drinks. i love dinner and i love how horny you get after a few drinks.”

hands on your hips, you turn to face him. “you can’t come because one, you have to take the kids trick or treating. two, shoko and utahime invited me, not us. and also, you mean how horny you get after a few drinks, lightweight.”

gojo jumps up as you turn to leave the bathroom, grabbing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple before you can escape. “only because i love you so much!”

“i know,” you hum, rolling your eyes but unable to help from smiling as you slip out of his grasp. “and because you love me so much, you’re going to stick to the neighbourhoods we cleared curses out of this morning, be home by 9, and make sure the kids brush their teeth really good before bed. i know it’s your first time taking them alone—”

“we’ll be absolutely fine,” he assures you. “even though you’re abandoning us to have dinner with the hot lesbians.”

after slipping your coat on, you reach up to pinch your boyfriend’s cheek. “keep yourself and the kids out of trouble, and i will bring you back some leftovers.”

“oh, come on. what kind of trouble could myself, an eight year old, and a nine year old get into?”

_____

“we’re not allowed in this neighbourhood.”

gojo places his whole hand on the megumi’s face, hushing him. “what mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her. besides, this is where uncle nanami lives. we’re just visiting for the full sized candy bars that he gives out.”

“but you told us to distract him so you could get inside,” tsumiki points out, blinking up at him with those oh-so-innocent eyes. “isn’t that…breaking and entering?”

gojo pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “okay, just cause you’re dressed like ruth bader ginsburg doesn’t mean you have to judge me." he crouches down to their height, levelling them with steady looks. "all you guys need to do is stick to the plan, alright? you go up, do the whole, 'trick or treat!' shtick, then megumi, you make...well, whatever sound a frog makes. tsumiki, you argue with him or something, i don't know. keep him occupied."

he almost can't keep a straight face as megumi nods, the frog cap strapped to his head bouncing as he does so.

"okay, now go!" he commands, nudging them forward. "door 69!"

megumi glances back at him, a frown curved on his lips. "isn't it--"

"just go!"

gojo darts out of sight before he can see that it's not nanami who answers the door.

_____

your flat, unimpressed tone seeps through the phone, making gojo shudder. "you really thought it'd be a good idea to break into mei mei's house on halloween? one of the most active nights of the year?"

"okay, well it's not my fault she lives right next to nanami!" he huffs. "i was just going to go in, grab that really expensive bottle of scotch you like, and get out! i was doing it for you!"

he can picture the face you're making right now. you're not at all swooning, and that was clearly not the right argument to make. "the kids almost got their eyes pecked out by crows when they were running away."

"but we ran away together," he emphasizes. "that sounds like a core memory if you ask me. something you wouldn't want to miss out on making next year, right?"

"you're damn right i won't, dipshit!"

and sure, megumi and tsumiki's costumes have been pecked to hell by some birds, but they're laughing (at him, but whatever), sharing candy and toothy smiles. and that's always a sign of a night well spent, gojo thinks.

#keeping up with the fushigojos #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen drabbles

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celiaswriting · 2 months

Text

sleepy (t.r III)

smut!!

warnings: somnophilia, softdom!tom, fingering, i think that's it.

"tom do you have any more.. you know.. things you wanna try? any fantasies or anything?" you asked, giggling nervously as you were laying comfortably in bed together after spending the night getting absolutely ruined by him.

a simple question really for his girlfriend of a year or so now.

tom wished he didn't lose his fucking mind as soon as you said it. in the good way of course.

tom's mind raced as he stammered through all the fantasies he had nervously - a very foreign feeling to him. and asked you if you had any.

you did.

interesting ones at that.

however, one particular one intrigued him more than the other and he swears he could've died when you asked in that soft, ever so sweet voice of yours you know tom adores if you could play it out tonight.

somnophilia.

so that's how tom ended up here; in bed with you nuzzled into his side, gripping onto his shirt like a life-line and breathing softly against his chest. a sign tom has come to realise means you're in a deep, peaceful sleep.

tentatively, he reached a hand to trail down your stomach, leaning in and pressing gentle kisses along your jaw - careful not to wake you just yet.

"gorgeous." he whispered. "just so gorgeous for me." he kissed at your neck now, rambling about how he's so greatful you're letting him do this and smiling against you as you whimper softly in your sleep.

your sweet, innocent dreams turn a lot more erotic as tom keeps trailing his hands over your body, studying every part of you.

something he could never get to do when you were actually conscious because you always get so needy for him.

so impatient. he can never deny you when you beg for more of him in that sultry, needy little voice of yours.

he gently nudges your legs apart with his hands, access made easy as you were still bare from your previous activities earlier on in the night.

he relishes in your little, almost inaudible whine as he gropes at your thighs, leaning down to kiss the hickies littered over them from earlier.

cautiously, he moves his hand down to your core and flicks over the your clit repeatedly, something he knows drives you crazy. and he kisses your forehead sweetly, almost uncharacteristically for the cold tom riddle but you know how soft he can be for you. only ever you.

you start to squirm slightly as he pushes two fingers in and pumps them at a teasing, torturous pace but you let your legs fall open wider for him.

he groans against your neck, relishing in how complaint you are even in your unconscious state.

he moves his fingers faster now. harder. his wrist brushing over your clit occasionally as you flutter around his hand.

he moves back up to you, leaning his forehead on yours, transfixed by the way his fingers slide in and out of you so perfectly.

you start to squirm slightly in your sleep as your hands find tom's shirt and you grip onto it again.

and suddenly your eyes flutter awake and your moaning so softly for him and looking at him with those big, wide eyes of yours.

"morning love." he smirks at you as he speeds up his fingers, pressing them into more aggressively now.

and you can't even form a coherent sentence as you whine and writhe beneath him, bringing a hand up to tug at his hair and bucking your hips up to meet his hand.

"mhm. tom. f - feels good." you stammer, cheeks flushed and eyes tired as he leans in to kiss you.

god you never knew just his hands could feel so good.

"mhm. you like it, princess? you gonna come for me?" he smiles, pressing kisses to whatever skin he can reach as you whimper and pull his hair tighter, chasing your release.

"mhm. so close. fuck." you let your eyes drift closed as you cling onto him.

"baby keep your eyes open. i wanna see you come undone for me." he commands gently.

so you do. you can't deny him anything, especially when he makes you feel like you're floating every time he touches you.

"come on love." he nips at your neck again, darkening the marks made earlier.

"let go for me. i can feel how badly you need it."

so of course you do, bucking your hips wildly up to meet him and whimpering his name repeatedly as if it's the only thing you know how to say.

tom almost melts at the sight of you alone. your face scrunched up, contorted with pure pleasure as you let go all over his fingers and he keeps going until you're squirming on the bed and grabbing his wrist to pull his hand out of you.

he chuckles softly as he pulls out of you and sucks his fingers clean and you swear you could've orgasmed a second time at the sight alone.

tom smiles as he lays back down and lets you resume your place against his chest, draping his arm around you.

"good?" he asks gently, his hand coming up to stroke your hair softly.

"good." you hum a reply, leaning further into him as he kisses your forehead, taking pride in the satisfaction laced throughout your voice and displayed clearly all over your face - something he knew only he could cause.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i feel like a big fat WHORE.

…

hope you enjoyed this it’s literally the first smut i’ve ever written!!

#slytherin boys imagines #tom riddle #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter #slytherin #fanfic #smut

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dontbelasagnax · 13 days

Note

OMG CAN I DO A PROMPT FOR THE KISS ROULETTE???

No pressure BUT I number 35. Kiss against a wall would make me go FERAL.

Bonus points if it's in some hidden corner and they're trying to sneak away after a hard won battle because the codywan brain rot has GOT ME. I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING BUT THEM

Please pretend like you sent this ask recently and I haven't been sitting on it for months waiting for my eggs to hatch @why-cant-turtles-fly 😂 As requested, here is codywan kissing against a wall... though it's actually a pillar (oops). I was inspired by this artwork I did!

Pairing: CC-22224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2,330

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Tenderness, Making Out, Introspection, and by that I mean Obi-Wan is mentally ill and thinks too much, Implied Sexual Content, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summary:

"Missing something?" Cody wiggles a certain lightsaber in his hand as he closes the distance of only a couple meters.

"More than one thing, it seems," Obi-Wan replies.

[ OR: Obi-Wan and Cody steal away some precious time after a victorious battle which of course results in a makeout session against a pillar. ]

(fic under the cut if you wish to read here on tumblr)

This morning Obi-Wan finds himself in the ruins of a long ago abandoned castle, high in the mountainous region of Bestoon's northernmost continent. However difficult the altitude makes it to breathe unassisted, it's worth it for the view. There isn't much he loves looking at more than a sunrise in the clouds.

The sunrise after a well earned victory in battle has become one of Obi-Wan's favorite moments to find peace these last few months or... has it been years? Time has melted together through this dreary drudge of a war.

He's watched this sky transition from dusky purples splashed with rays of golden sunlight to a pale blue canvas with clouds shadowed with purples leaning grey and highlights of soft pinks and yellows.

"Sir," a very familiar voice calls from behind.

Obi-Wan turns towards the voice.

'Ah,' Obi-Wan thinks, a smile already beginning to emerge on his features, 'my dearest commander.'

The light of the sky washes Cody in diffused golds and pinks. He is delightfully dressed down, forgoing his armour from the waist up. The tight, ribbed fabric does his physique all the favors the way it clings. A stray curl drops onto his forehead. The lighting does wonders for his complexion. It's as if he's glowing.

Yes, Cody bathed in the light of a new day is the most breathtaking, glorious view of them all.

"Missing something?" Cody wiggles a certain lightsaber in his hand as he closes the distance of only a couple meters.

"More than one thing, it seems," Obi-Wan replies as he takes the lightsaber held out to him. The metal is heated from the rare touch of Cody's bare hand. Energy thrums from the kyber, a slow pulse that nearly sparkles, sending the residual heat of skin and life up Obi-Wan's arm, straight to his ever beating heart.

So helpful his kyber crystal is, giving fuel to the flame of his infatuation that, once a slow burn, is steadily alight.

Cody leans back against the pillar, looks at him with those warm, big brown eyes of his and oh…

Obi-Wan steps into Cody's space.

Cody's sharp inhale and the way his hand comes up to touch Obi-Wan's belly is exactly what he wanted.

Obi-Wan rests his arm beside Cody's head on the stone, bringing his face close enough to just feel Cody's breath on the whiskers of his beard.

Thick, black lashes fluttering downwards then back up. The want in those gorgeous eyes is magnetizing.

Obeying Cody's gravitational pull, Obi-Wan kisses him. The catch of their lips slow and tender, just a hint of saliva and suction, loving the warm nudge of Cody's nose against his cheek, and the bloom of Cody's Force presence like flowers turning to the morning sun.

"Well done," Obi-Wan murmurs as he pulls away, chasing the wounded noise Cody makes with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Your performance was stellar today, as always. Always."

Obi-Wan clips his lightsaber to his belt and cups his darling's jaw with his newly freed hand. He sighs into the meeting of their lips. The soft warm comfort of Cody's mouth is offset by the rigidity of his armour below the waist. It’s as accurate a representation of Cody’s true self as it gets: compassionate and sweet while still deadly and unwieldy.

Though, as much as Obi-Wan adores this version of Cody—so delectable in only his codpiece, cuisse, and greaves—he’d selfishly prefer him stripped even further.

Alas, he's getting ahead of himself.

Cody's arms curl around him, hands clenching in his tabards. Their lips make smacking noises with the separation of each slow, deliberate kiss.

It's with a bittersweet ache in his chest that Obi-Wan cherishes these moments for he never knows what the next day will bring. The reality of war is that any second of any day he could lose Cody and he'll never know another day painted warm and vibrant by Cody's dry humor and barely-there smiles, the rare times when Obi-Wan can make him really laugh and hear joy spring from his soul, the quiet steady companionship of his presence, and the compassion he shows his brothers. One day he'll never know another kiss, another pleasure coated sigh of his own name, or feel the needy way Cody curves his entire body into Obi-Wan’s to get what he wants.

It is possible that Obi-Wan would be the one to go first but… he knows deep down, and has accepted it with peace, that he's meant for infinite sadness.

He already nearly lost him that first time- the time Cody first kissed him.

However long Cody is willing to share these hidden pockets of love with him, he will cherish every second they have together.

He emphasizes this thought with a purposeful tug and suck of Cody’s bottom lip before pulling away to breathe. The thinner air at this altitude has them panting against each other, lips grazing slightly, a sensitive tingly, ticklish tease.

Cody rubs their noses together, as if trying to grasp any sort of intimacy he can while recovering his breath.

Obi-Wan’s heart squeezes painfully.

Never let it be said lest Cody try to kill him in his sleep… but Cody is not just a sweet, sweet man but adorable.

Natural as the mist of cloudy mornings, Obi-Wan kisses him again.

Everything about this is intentional. From the way he slowly draws their mouths together again and again, pace languid and savoring, to the way they've chosen each other- chosen to find these moments to do nothing but love. It's not a choice, really, that they will choose duty over each other if that's what it comes to. That's simply the reality of their existences. Those priorities will never change, not with how the war has molded them into thinking.

No, the choosing is in the love.

He does love Cody and perhaps always will. It's not been said. Nor does he know with absolute certainty that Cody feels the same.

Cody's presence in the Force has always been a bit of a comfort for Obi-Wan since they met. Through all the uncertainty and pain in the galaxy, Cody is sturdy and shines. He's not certain when Cody’s signature began emanating a warmth that curls into his chest and makes him feel at home. It could be that with time and the development of Obi-Wan's own feelings, every aspect of Cody became beyond endearing.

Or… it could be the manifestation of Cody's own feelings for Obi-Wan.

He's not certain. And he's very well not going to ask.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't.

Still, he catches quick moments sometimes out the corner of his eye where Cody looks at him with an impossibly soft look on his face and Obi-Wan thinks, 'Maybe-’

Really. It doesn't matter.

He has Cody so readily in the cradle of his arms, drinking up every milliliter of affection bestowed upon him.

And, well, his train of thought falls to the wayside when Cody moans into his mouth and tries to drag him even closer between the v of his legs.

He's not sure exactly what he’s done to make Cody react so positively but he goes with the motion as heat burns deep in his abdomen.

He teases at Cody's lips with his tongue and realizes his fault when Cody instantly opens his mouth and deepens the kiss. The inside of Cody's mouth is hot and wet and his tongue- licking all those spots that make Obi-Wan shudder into him.

Not that it's not lovely—because it is, really—but this is not how he intended things to go.

Cody's insistent against him, pressing for more, hotter, faster, harder.

With difficulty, Obi-Wan pulls away, dodging Cody's attempts to meld their mouths together.

“Cody, dearheart,” he says, out of breath, thumb gently stroking the skin by the corner of Cody's mouth, “you don't need to devour me.”

Cody doesn't quite pout but it's a near thing. The way his eyes are glued to Obi-Wan's lips make tooka-eyes impossible. “Remains to be seen.”

Obi-Wan huffs a laugh and kisses his cheek. “Please, my-” he catches himself almost saying ‘love’, “dear. Just for now. Let me treat you softly.”

Cody considers this solemnly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nods.

Obi-Wan smiles. “Good man.”

The bob of Cody's throat at his words is gratifying.

He closes his eyes and leans back in to capture Cody's lips for a few slow, lingering kisses.

“That’s it. Easy goes,” Obi-Wan murmurs between kisses. Cody melts underneath him, pliant and accepting.

He'll take every rare opportune moment to treat Cody like the indulgence he is– truly savor him. Hot plush lips between his own, a smooth glide aided by saliva. Slow and steady. Discovering how electric and titillating the simplicity is. Just Cody's warm body against his own. Cody's lips. Cody's sighs. Cody…

He's the sweetest of luxuries. And he should be cherished accordingly.

Obi-Wan plants a path of kisses up Cody's cheek, right to the end of his brow, following the raised skin of his facial scar.

He's wondered if anyone else has gotten to love Cody like he has or if he's the only one to ply him with tender affection. He's wondered if, in a kinder universe, Cody would be left free of the scars Obi-Wan has gotten to know so intimately. If there were a universe as such, would Obi-Wan be given the chance to love Cody all over again or if another is destined for him- someone closer to his age and able to devote their life to ensuring his happiness.

He's tied himself into knots over this. The hypotheticals.

He loves Cody. He loves him easily, unhurried and unconditionally. He loves him with every breath he shares loving the Jedi Order—his family—and this wonderous Force-filled world they live in.

It's just that. He does not love Cody more than the order, more than his faith and his family. Cody is a part of his life. Whatever comes next, may it be death or freedom or- well, Force knows what, Obi-Wan hopes Cody remains a constant. Selfishly. More than a little lovesick. He wants Cody in his life. But he will accept whatever comes their way, as it is the will of the Force.

And if that means-

“Where'd’ya keep going?” asks Cody, big brown eyes of his gazing into Obi-Wan's soulfully. A deep brown that melts into a warm, rich amber. Beautiful.

“Nowhere of consequence.” He rubs his nose along Cody’s cheek. Breathes him in.

“You sure?”

Obi-Wan drags his lips down Cody's jaw, smiling to himself and settling in once Cody shudders and angles his head out of the way.

“Absolutely certain,” Obi-Wan murmurs against his pulse point then kisses that very same spot.

A sigh from Cody is just the encouragement Obi-Wan needs to continue on.

It's a gift having Cody so sensitive and wanting under him. An entirely different side of his commander than the stern, regal demeanor their troopers see day in and out.

He kisses and sucks and nips the column of Cody's neck, delighting in the small, pleased noises he draws from Cody with every pass of his mouth over salty skin.

He only leaves a couple of marks by the time Cody tugs him upwards. He's not too dismayed to leave the warm crook of his love’s neck because the expression on Cody's face is nothing short of wanton, absolutely debauched.

Cody’s lips are still plump and kiss bitten.

Obi-Wan can't resist. He traces the pad of his thumb across Cody's bottom lip. Breath shakes onto skin and Cody's mouth closes around the digit, suctioning him in hot, wet heat.

He draws in a sharp breath.

His gaze darts to Cody’s eyes where he meets pupils blown wide with desire. Cody stares unflinchingly, daring and, oh…

Cody has bewitched him, utterly and completely. Try as he might to retain composure, Cody is his undoing in these moments. The fragile strings of his heart (and… other parts of his anatomy…) pulled taut and ready to spring forward.

He wanted to keep it slow and soft, but Cody knows just how to arm him into an arrow ready to spring forth.

He pops his thumb from Cody's mouth and fixes his mouth and lips there instead, letting him know just how affected he is. He tastes Cody’s own desire echoed back to him in his moans and tongue and the needy press of his body that Obi-Wan keeps caged to the pillar. The fists that grab at his tunic and hair to try and get him even closer.

The high altitude forces them apart to breathe sooner than either of them would like but they don't go far, nuzzling noses and panting against one another's lips.

“We’d better take this back to The Negotiator,” Cody says quietly, still out of breath.

Obi-Wan nods his agreement, sure that if they stay here a minute longer he'll be on his knees.

Hand in hand, they hurry away and the sunrise grows only brighter, pink tones making way for the brilliance of the full sun. Clouds drift with the breeze and all is as it will be.

#writing hiatus OVER!!!!!!!#codywan #my writing #commander cody #obi wan kenobi

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