#but i might have felt something now...... seeing those hanged children (

[viscerealista]

pathologic quantos?

[freyaphoria]

Hello! Since I can't save the writings in my drafts and your request is currently stuck in my drafts, I have to post it this way. I hope you can see your request T_T By the way, I wrote this 4 times, and the universe prevented me from writing it. Normally it was over 2k words, but most of it was deleted and I forgot what I wrote. Anyway, Love u!♡

Look Like a Freak

tw: nerd!Seonghwa x fem!reader, oral(giving mentioned, receiving), squirting, slapping, fingering, vibrator using, degradation, bondage, overstimulation

wc: 1.5k

taglist: @aim-blossom @matzrionette

“Seonghwa, are we really going to do it here?” It was too late to ask now. He made an approving noise as he abused your pussy between. To your surprise, he could hear you and respond. Normally, after tasting you, Seonghwa would be pussy drunk and wouldn't hear or see anything.

Seonghwa's room was the most virginity room you've ever seen. There were more Star Wars figures and Legos than you could count. And what is it? On the top shelf of the display case, on top of the Star Wars legos, there were colorful house legos and animals next to them, which you might think were related to animal crossing which might attract the attention of 5-year-old children.

You and Seonghwa went to the same university and met at the dance club. When you first met him, he was very quiet, buried in his book with a book by an unknown author in his hand and he was wearing the metal-framed glasses he was currently wearing, not communicating with anyone. Even though most people avoided communicating with him, you felt his potential in his eyes under those big glasses. You had initiated the first communication and asked him something about the star wars lego keychain hanging on his bag, and before you knew how the things had developed, he had pulled you into the back storage and made out with you. After a while, you started fucking after every dance lesson and became addicted to each other. You were nothing but a fuck buddy, but you'd still meet up at his house every once in a while to build Legos together like cute couple, and as you can imagine, your night would end up in his bed, trying to recover, with his cum dripping down between your legs.

Same thing today, you met at his house to play his favorite game, the two of you lying in bed while Seonghwa was playing Animal Crossing on his Nintendo. But you had made him horny without knowing why, and Seonghwa stopped his game, which was an unexpected move from him, and started eating you. Animal Crossing, where you played with Seonghwa, was still on on the TV and calm music was playing.

"Can you at least turn off that game? It's ruining the whole mood-" You were cut off by Seonghwa shoving your panties into your mouth. "Don't tire that beautiful mouth of yours by talking, you will be tired enough when I put my dick down your throat."

Who would believe that someone as nerdy as him could make you this wet? If you told your friends who knew him, they would all think you went crazy. But right now, you were in his bed with your legs wide open and you were dripping, Animal Crossing in front of you, Star Wars figures next to you, and a nerd Seonghwa losing himself between your legs.

When Seonghwa started using his fingers as well, you realized you wouldn't last long. He was eating you out and fingering you so professionally that you were seeing stars every time, your legs shaking uncontrollably and squirting on him. And so it was, the moment you felt his fingers inside you, curls them up and abusing your sweet spot while his tongue stimulates your clitoris, you couldn't hold back that ball that was growing in your belly any longer and you came into his mouth. Your voice came out as a muffled moan through your underwear in your mouth. "Oh but I couldn't hear you clearly, looks like we're going to do it again." He pulled the fabric from your mouth and kissed you hungryly. Since he still didn't remove his fingers from you, you continued to spasm uncontrollably around his fingers and began to squirm from the overstimulation.

"What is that? You got tired a little early for a slut like you. Open your legs." As you tried to close your legs, Seonghwa forced them open. When you closed them again, you were startled by the sound of him slapping your thigh hard. "You want to be a brat? Okay then." He let go of your legs and headed towards his desk. He opened his drawer, took the rope next to a lot of Animal crossing cards, closed the drawer hard and turned towards you. You held back your laughter when you saw the colored cards. He adjusted the thin metal-framed glasses that fell on the tip of his nose, found the end of the rope and started wrapping it around your wrists.

"Hwa, I'm getting rope burns, haven't you found that furry handcuff yet?" He tied the rope tightly around your wrists, he bent your leg towards you and brought your ankle closer to your hands and tied the rest of it to your ankles. "No I couldn't. And if you stop squirming, you won't get a burn." After tying your other side in the same way, he checked its strength and made sure that it was not loose. He looked at you, his masterpiece, from head to toe, then he spanked your pussy that you had forced open and exposed for him, and he moved towards your upper body. You let out a small scream at the sudden feeling of pain. He tied your upper body by looping the rope around your chest and tying it over your arm; so it stabilized your arms and prevented you from closing your legs.

"Now, what should we do with you?" You felt even wetter with the feeling of being restricted and having all your control in his hands. The feeling of emptiness inside you was becoming unbearable and if he didn't fuck you soon, you would start crying and whining from frustration. "Just fuck me already."

The left side of his mouth lifted up and laughed slyly. A deep chuckle escaped his throat. "No no, I won't give you what you want that easily." This time, he opened the drawer where he kept your toys under the previous drawer and took out the pink vibrator with remote control. When you think about what he did to you with it, your heart starts to lose its rhythm and the adrenaline in your body begins to tickle your pussy waiting to be filled. The vibrator that he play with you for hours and eventually makes you squirm from overstimulation and cry and beg him to stop...

"How about this? No coming until I finish my new lego set. If you come, I won't fuck you tonight. Understood?" "Wait, at least let me suck you." He moved the toy in his hand over your folds before inserting it inside you, collecting your wetness on the toy. "Are you that much of a cock slave? Is there a day you don't spend without sucking me? Can't that little belly of yours do without taking my cum?" Your face turned red because of his dirty words. Yes, there wasn't a day without sucking him, but there wasn't a day without him eating you either. You were considered equal in every way. After all, you were a fuck buddy and that was your purpose. "Please just let me take you in my mouth" He balled up the panties he had just taken out of your mouth and put it back into your mouth. "Just deal with it for now. You can do it, right? It shouldn't be too hard."

After laughing sarcastically, he moved the vibrator over your folds for the last time and put it inside you. You gasped at the sudden feeling of being filled. The fact that you didn't know when Seonghwa would start the toy and when he would stop it made you nervous and excited. After licking his fingers, which got wet because he inserted the vibrator inside you, and tasting you again, got up from you and took the lego bag next to his wardrobe and placed it on his desk. "Which one do you think I should do?" He took out the Lego sets one by one from the paper bag and showed them all to you. The hilarity of your current situation and the Animal Crossing music playing in the background almost made you laugh. You were thankful for the fabric over your mouth that prevented you from laughing.

"Oh that's it!" He took out the 1394-piece Ghost & Phantom II set from the bag and placed it on the table. When he took the remote control of the vibrator and started to turn it on at medium level, you first lost your breath and started to squirm in your place. But he tied the ropes so tightly that you couldn't move much.

"Remember, no coming until I finish this set." He opened the box and placed the contents on the table, looking at you who began to tremble slightly. “You look like a slut.” And you look like a freak you thought.

[uglypastels]

omg what about Logan being like the softest with a sensitive/shy reader. Idk in what context like maybe she’s just overwhelmed with life and kinda closed off in terms of voicing what’s wrong and you know he’s usually very stoic but he’s the BIGGEST softy. Totally not projecting btw.

YEsss Logan is such a fucking softie, no matter how hard he'd want to try and hide it. thank you for being my first request for this fandom i hope i can do it some justice 🫶 and pleeease, we love to project here so please, go right ahead.

warnings: darkness. anxiety. loneliness. alcohol. fem!reader. reader's mutation specified. mentions of past [implied toxic] relationship. so some angst but also bunch of fluff at the end. also please don't come for me if he's a bit out of character. this is my first time writing Logan so it will be trial and error.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

It was the dead of the night. Quite literally. All around you was so quiet and dark that the rest of the world might as well have ceased to exist. All you heard was the floorboards creaking under your footsteps as slivers of moonlight illuminated your path through the corridors of the mansion. It was the rare instance that you felt at peace. 

Yes, you knew almost as soon as you stepped inside the large building and saw all these mutants walking around happily and carelessly that you had found a true safe haven, and yet, months later, you still had not found your bearings. It did not help that you were not exactly in the age bracket of most of the residents here. Having the mansion double as a school meant most of the mutants were in that school-going age range, and while they were lovely (for the most part), you had no desire to befriend children. Then, those who you felt more drawn to socially, like Storm or Jean, were all apart of that special ops team, which always left them busy, if not completely absent, while away on missions. 

Thus, most of your days went by in solitude. Something you had gotten used to throughout your life. Over the years it had become natural for you to simply disappear into your surroundings. Wether you wanted to or not, people simply overlooked you. In hindsight, it explained your mutation perfectly… or was that just an aftereffect of it? You had always wondered if it was one’s personality that influenced the mutation or the other way around.

Either way, for you, it all merged into one dark abyss. 

By now, you had gotten a hang of all the floor plans of the giant building, especially the route between your room and the kitchens. 

You hadn’t checked the clock when you got out of bed, but it must have been around 2 am, if not later. You didn’t expect anyone to be up at this ungodly hour. Especially not walking out of the dark kitchen exactly as you were coming through the threshold. The two of you bump, chest to chest, and the contact immediately made you burst out in a high-pitched scream. From the other side of the impact, you heard a muffled grunt and the sound of a blade being pulled. That was enough for your flight or fight mode to activate. You almost choked on the deep breath you took. The blade swung in your direction, but it only slashed the air where you once stood. 

‘Who’s there?’ it was a male voice. Hard and deep, almost wild. In your other form, your eyes adapted much better to the dark, and so you could see him looking around himself wildly. You counted the sharp appendages in his hands— no, they were coming out of his arms— six long claw-like blades ready to impale the very first thing that’d move. 

There was no doubt about it that this must have been the infamous Logan everyone around the mansion talked about. From what you had heard, he had been away for almost a year on some top-secret assignment for the Professor, but now he had apparently returned.

And what a comeback he has made, nearly stabbing you in the hallway.

‘Who’s there?’ he repeated his question louder, still looking around.

‘Just me.’ Your voice came out as the exact opposite of his, soft and weak, and you immediately regretted your words. Just me, as if he was supposed to know what that meant.

But it must have done the trick, as Logan retracted his claws. His shoulders visibly slacked at the lack of imminent danger.

‘Well, Me, you can come out of hiding. I’m not gonna hurt ya,’ he grumbled, ‘let me just turn the light on–’ 

‘Wait!’ You squeezed your eyes shut and let the cool air of the night brush over your bare arms. When you opened them again, all you could see was Logan’s large frame standing inside the kitchen, most likely hovering over the light switch, surprised at your sudden call.

‘Sorry, you can uhm– turn the lights on now.’ And like that, with a quiet flick, the kitchen illuminated with a soft orange glow. 

Logan’s eyes were immediately on you, scanning you up and down for any sign of recognition, but you already knew there would be none. Even if he had ever seen you before, there never was.

‘Do I know you?’ he cocked his head with the question, and all you could do was shake your head. 

‘I doubt it.’ No one knew you, but that didn’t feel like a smart response.

‘Care to introduce yourself, Bub?’ He leaned against the wall with the light switch, and maybe it was his overall greatness as he practically towered over you, but you felt a rush of heat fall over your face as he looked down at you in expectance. Awkwardly, you pushed out the sounds that formed your name, with a bonus of an extended hand for him to shake. 

‘And you must be Logan, right?’

He confirmed your suspicion with a grunt as he took your hand, squeezed firmly, but not painfully, and shook it once. Then, silence fell between you. 

Two strangers who met in a complete, nearly fatal accident. It was only to be expected you would have nothing to say to one another. But you were, after all both awake this late in the night, and that was enough to compel you to talk. 

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘Just got back, actually.’ His eyes glanced to your side and that is when you noticed the duffel bag that lay in the corridor. Then, only when you looked back at him did you take in what he was wearing. Not the expected gym shorts or sweatpants with an old shirt. Instead, Logan was dressed in a black button-up under a dark motorcycle jacket. With that, he had a boot cut-jeans and the boots to match. From the tiny dark dotted pattern on his shoulders and the light pitter-pattering that was occurring outside, it was visible he had just come from out of the rain. 

Immediately, a parade of questions entered your mind. Where had he been? Why did he come back so late? What was he doing in the kitchen? And so much more, though none of it would leave your mouth as you doubted he would talk to you about his secret mission. 

‘You alright?’ His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, and you realised how you must have looked. Staring up at him with wide eyes, not saying a single thing. Another heat flare hit your cheeks.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

He cocked his head in an examinatory fashion. The disbelief evident in his eyes. 

‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’

‘Relatively,’ you shrugged. ‘Got here a few months ago.’

‘Parents kicked you out?’ He assumed the most common backstory that comes with the residents of the mansion.

‘Not exactly,’ you kept your response short. After all, you could hardly tell a stranger you just met that your boyfriend had kicked you out of your shared apartment when he found out about your genetic abnormality. You had never been sure how he would have reacted, but the events that unfolded were even beyond your imagination. But the past was the past, and you didn’t want to dwell on it. The important part was that not a day after this conversation, you were crying in your car with nowhere to go. It was by chance that weeks after your break-up/eviction, you stumbled into some other mutants who told you about the Professor. You weren’t too sure about going to seek shelter at a school of all places, but in reality, the Academy was much more than that. Though it did give you the perfect opportunity to safely train your abilities.

That and so much more was what went through your head, but you didn’t say any of that to Logan. Why would you? He didn’t know you. He didn’t care about your problems, and you didn’t blame him for it. 

On the contrary, you appreciated that he didn’t press you for more details. When you answered the way you did, he simply nodded in understanding and made his way over to the fridge. The blue glow illuminated his tense features. Strange, for a man who had been a year on the go on some secret spy adventure, you would have expected him to return at least a bit beaten up. But besides maybe some signs of a bad sleep schedule, no form of strain was visible on his face.

‘You want something?’ he looked over at you, making you realise you had been, in fact, staring and not very subtly either. 

‘I’m good, thanks.’ 

‘Suit yourself,’ he went back to inspecting the contents of the fridge before sighing with disappointment. ‘They still don’t have anything stronger around here?’

‘Oh, if you’re looking for beer–’ you walked over to a cabinet at the other end of the kitchen. You tapped a corner, and a small code pad appeared. You tapped in the code, and the cabinet opened to reveal a fully stocked mini-bar. ‘Scott had it installed over the summer,’ you explained when you saw Logan’s confused expression.

‘Explains the babyproofing.’ He walked over, and you handed him a cool bottle of beer.

‘Well, it is a school after all.’ You held in a smile as the thought occurred to you that the kids might not have been the only ones who weren’t supposed to know about the secret compartment. The rivalry between Cyclops and the Wolverine was known all too well around the whole campus, even for newcomers such as yourself.

Logan smirked, taking his beer. You were about to offer a bottle opener, but he hit the neck of the bottle against the edge of the table and with a pop and a clink, the cap came right off. 

‘Here,’ he exchanged your bottles, giving you the open one. You watched him repeat his actions with the second drink. Your eyes were still on him as he chugged down half of the beer in one go. He probably could have downed the whole thing if it wasn’t for his look down at you, most likely noticing your entranced look.

‘That staring a part of your powers, too, then?’ he commented, and the acknowledgement immediately made you turn your head in the direction of the window.

‘Sorry. I just— I tend to do that, I guess.’ You wrinkled your nose. Being on your own around so many people, you had gotten used to people watching, observing them from a distance like a show on TV that you kept on for the background noise.

‘What do you do, anyway?’ He asked bluntly, ‘I thought I had done you in good back there.’

‘You would have,’ you chuckled, remembering just how close his claws had come into contact with you. ‘It’s hard to explain. I just kind of—’ You noticed the shadow that fell over the floor from the table and lightly grazed it with the tip of your toe. With a deep breath, the world in front of you changed. Except the exact opposite was the truth. ‘Disappear.’ You finished the sentence, punctuated by your new state.

Logan’s eyes widened as you disappeared in front of his eyes. Where the shock came from, he couldn’t explain. He had encountered these sorts of mutants before. But this felt different than regular invisibility or teleportation. With his heightened senses, he could always detect those sorts of hijinks. No one ever disappeared to him. But you— as soon as you had faded away, it was as if you had completely fallen off the face of the earth. Not a single trace of you lingered behind. When you spoke, just as you had in the hallway, your voice didn’t seem to be coming from one place. It was all around him, almost like a whisper, a voice inside his own head.

With a blink of an eye, you reappeared before him. Just as you had stood there moments before.

‘There’s not really a name for this, I think; at least no one around here could come up with anything that made sense.’ Not that you had any conversations that made people interested enough to do the research. ‘But from my own understanding, I kind of become one with the shadows.’

‘And what about the light?’ he recalled your yelp when he had tried to turn on the light.

‘I merge with the dark, and so when new light sources interfere… it’s not pretty.’

Logan simply nodded as he took the last swig of his beer.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, you leaning against the counter and he against the large table. 

‘You’re doing it again, Bub.’ He smirked, calling out your lost stare. 

‘Sorry,’ you hadn’t even realised you were doing it. You had just been looking around the room and may have, perhaps, accidentally lingered a look at his frame for a few seconds. And then you caught sight of his hands. More specifically, his knuckles. There was a faint pink glow on the skin, but besides that, you would never be able to tell that deadly claws could grow out from there. You blinked. ‘Sorry.’ You were doing it again. Quickly, you drank the rest of your beer. The bitter taste lingered in your throat, suffocating the burning questions that you wanted to ask.

‘Spill it out.’ He hit you by surprise with the command.

‘Uh–what?’

You knew there were plenty of mindreaders around, but you had not thought it was one of Logan’s abilities. ‘How did you–’

‘It’s all in your face, sweetheart. You think just ‘cause you’re quiet, you’re hard to read, don’t you.’ His assumption left you a bit stunned. It wasn’t that you had thought exactly that, but more so that you never considered that you were making any expressions that were that easy to interpret, as you never really had anyone pay that much attention to you to point it out.

 ‘If you want to say something, just say it.’ Logan said the corner of his lips lifted in a small smile. ‘If you’re wondering if it hurts,’ he looked down at his knuckles, ‘it hurts just as any other one-foot-long knife cutting through skin.’

‘That’s awful.’ You gasped, considering what it must be like to have such a mutation that inadvertently harmed you any time you used it.

‘You get used to it after a while.’ 

Another round of silence. This time, the longer it went on, the more you started thinking how you must be inconveniencing him. With the beers drank, there was little for you both to still be doing here, but also didn’t want to be rude by just up and leaving. After all, you didn’t know Logan very well. 

‘You sure you’re alright?’ He asked, coming out from behind the table.

‘Yeah.’ You tried to smile but could tell it probably did not reach your eyes. Logan moved with a sense of apprehension, unsure of how to approach you. Being a year on the road, not to mention the years of solitude before he had joined the Professor’s team, had not exactly prepared him for these kinds of situations. He didn’t know the right things to do or to say. But to you, just his presence was enough. Just him being there, talking, or in this case, just seeing you, was more than you could have asked for. ‘I’m good.’ 

And yet, ironically, though you had actually meant it for once, you really did feel alright, but something about the situation caused tears to prickle in the corners of your eyes. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that made you overly sensitive. Or the alcohol. 

You blinked the tears away and smiled awkwardly. ‘It’s just been a long day.’ or week. Month. Year. How about your entire life?

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ There was that quirk in his lip again, that ghost of a smile. And you couldn’t figure out if his response was just a sarcastic quip, understandably referring to his past days, which you were sure did not consist of a walk in the park. Or did he actually mean it, and he did want you to tell him more? Well, your moment of contemplation brought on another wave of silence, and the heavier it fell, the worse you felt to go back to your problems.

The sudden sound of footsteps pulled you back into your world. People must be slowly waking up; meanwhile, you hadn’t had an hour of sleep yet, and the effect of that started to hit.

‘I should— should probably go.’ You muttered, taking small steps in the direction of the door.

‘Well, the offer always stands.’ Logan followed you with his eyes, turning in his spot as you passed by him. See you around, Nightshade.’

‘What?’ the nickname caught you off-guard, stopping you in your tracks. 

‘Sorry,’ Logan winced, ‘I don’t know—’ that’s what he gets for trying to be cute. 

‘No, don’t apologise. I like it.’ Your smile finally found its full form. A “thank you” almost slipped past it, but you held yourself back. It felt too cheesy to get all sentimental about something as silly as a nickname. Especially since he didn’t know what it meant for you. He didn’t need to know didn’t think you’d ever belong amongst these people enough to get a moniker. 

And maybe it didn’t mean anything at all, maybe he had just said it as a mindless comment on your powers. Or maybe not. Maybe he had really tried hard to put that smile on your face. 

You would never know.

Unless you took that one small step. Because, of course, all you had to do was ask, just like he had told you, but maybe another time. For now, you just bid him farewell, hoping for that next opportunity to certainly come sooner than later.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[noira-l]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 "𝐘𝐞𝐬"!

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Satoru has finally found a way around the bureaucracy! Simple, ingenious, and by the way… he proposed marriage to you! Countless times...

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: fluff, annoying Satoru, a compilation of attempts to convince you to marry him.

author's note: I don't need to explain to anyone how stubborn Satoru can be when he wants something c;

The end of school was approaching and you were both busy with exams, missions and the overwhelming responsibilities of your sorcerer lives.

But then things started to get complicated with the adoption of Tsumiki and Megumi. Bureaucratic complications, delays in paperwork and constant questions from officials about living conditions. It wasn't that you didn't want to care about the children - on the contrary, they were the ones you were now focusing on the most. But with each passing day, the adoption process became more and more difficult, and the legal bureaucracy was a tangle you couldn't unravel.

You were met with the undeniable truth, you couldn't live on school grounds with the children. Yaga had been firm, his face as unreadable as ever when he told you it simply wasn’t an option. They were too young, he had explained, for the things they might see here. You hated to admit it, but he was right.

Satoru had flat-out refused to house the kids at his clan’s headquarters. His words were sharp, unbending, like an iron door slamming shut - 'No way, I’m not dragging those kids into that mess."

And you? You didn’t have a home anymore. Not really. You had never planned for this, for the sudden responsibility of two children to rear and protect. Not like this.

There was an overwhelming shame creeping in, the thought of overstaying your welcome at the school. Yaga had said you could stay for as long as necessary, but you couldn't help but feel the weight of it. The image of yourself lingering at the school grounds - post graduation, older, with two children in tow - haunted you. You needed to find a place of your own, a real home, somewhere for Megumi and Tsumiki to grow without the specter of danger hanging over them.

And then, there was the reality of your financial situation. It was almost laughable. Though Satoru, as you soon learned, was disgustingly rich, that wealth was locked away behind the vaults of the Gojo clan. For now, all he had access to was his paycheck, and though his salary as a special-grade sorcerer far outstripped yours, it was still nowhere near enough to cover what you needed - housing, legal fees, everything. And you still wanted to share expanses.

It had been a moment of desperation when you tried to adopt them yourself first. The government official had glanced over your file and turned you down almost immediately, barely glancing at your credentials. The sting of that rejection lingered, a bitter taste in your mouth.

When Satoru tried, things seemed to move a little more smoothly, but the gears of the system were still grinding too slowly. Every day felt like another step backward, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the longer this dragged on, the greater the chance the Zen'in clan would swoop in and take Megumi. The thought made your blood run cold.

After one particularly gruelling meeting with a government official, during which your status and living conditions were questioned, Satoru first threw out the idea.

It had been late, the sky above painted in shades of pink and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight casting long shadows across the school grounds. You both sat on the steps outside, staring out at the sprawling campus before you. Despite the breathtaking view, your mind was a tangle of frustration and helplessness, the weight of the situation settling heavily in your chest.

Satoru leaned back, resting his elbows on a stone, and looked at you with a thoughtful expression on his face that didn't quite match the playful gleam in his eyes.

"You know." Satoru said suddenly, his voice calm, almost too casual for the gravity of the moment "If we got married, all this paperwork would be easier. Like, a lot easier."

For a second, you blinked, not sure if you had heard him correctly. You turned to him, incredulous, your mind scrambling to catch up.

"What?" you said raising a brow to him.

"Marriage." he said again, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world "On paper, of course. It’d make the adoption process smoother. We present ourselves as a couple, and everything falls into place."

You laughed, the sound escaping your lips more out of disbelief than amusement "That’s… the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, Satoru." you shook your head, standing up and brushing the dust off your pants "Are you even listening to yourself?"

He grinned, leaning in closer with that mischievous look you’d seen so many times before.

"Oh, I’m listening. And I’m making sense. It’s logical. Think about it- everyone loves a married couple. It’s easier for them to trust us, easier to approve everything. We get the kids and we make sure they’re not stuck in some bureaucratic limbo, and it’ll all work out."

You rolled your eyes, starting to walk away from him, but the absurdity of the idea lingered in the back of your mind.

"You’re insane." you muttered, glancing back over your shoulder.

"Think about it!" his voice echoed after you, still playful, but you could sense the genuine offer buried beneath it "It’s a great plan!"

★ --

One late afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden rays across the campus as the two of you sat on the stone steps outside the dormitory. The warmth of spring had just begun to settle in, and everything felt fresh, except the familiar topic Satoru decided to bring up once more.

"Y’know." he said, not even bothering to look at you this time, staring up at the clouds instead "It’s a nice day for a wedding."

"Can you please drop this?" you groaned, burying your face in your hands as if that might somehow make his persistence vanish.

Satoru shifted slightly, turning his head to face you. His grin, as usual, was irrepressible, but there was a softness in his eyes "Why would I? You still haven’t given me a good reason not to do it. Every time I bring it up, all I hear is how practical it would be."

"Because it’s ridiculous!" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface as you stared back at him "We’re not... we’re not even a real couple, Satoru. Why would we pretend to be something we’re not?"

Satoru’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it seemed to widen as though he had been waiting for this moment.

"Why not?" he teased, his voice filled with amusement but also with something deeper, something that unsettled you "We already plan to raise two kids together. We've sleept in the same bed sometimes, when it was cold, or we’ve had a bad day. Face it - we already act like a married couple."

The words hung between you, settling into the quiet air around you like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. You opened your mouth to argue, but the sharp retort you had prepared never left your lips. Instead, you found yourself speechless, staring at him, because- damn it - he wasn’t so wrong.

Still, you shook your head, more to convince yourself than him "This wasn't the same, and you know it."

But he only shrugged, a look of confidence lingering in his expression as if he knew you’d eventually come around.

★ --

There were the quieter moments of persistence, when Satoru’s usual teasing faded into something more subdued, but no less determined. Like one evening, after a particularly long day, you found him sitting in the common room, flipping through paperwork related to the adoption process. You collapsed beside him, your body heavy with exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Without even looking up, Satoru’s voice broke the silence "Did you know that married couples get fast-tracked for adoption approval?"

"Satoru, please." you groaned, sinking deeper into the cushions as though you could physically melt away from the conversation.

He glanced over at you, his grin widening as he waved the papers slightly "I’m just saying. It’s an option. A very practical one."

You covered your face with a pillow, muffling your exasperated groan. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I’m right." he said, smug as ever "And deep down, you know it."

★ --

A lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sitting in your dorm, relaxing with a book.

Satoru entered the room, hands behind his back, humming some ridiculous tune. You glanced up warily, immediately suspicious of the way he was grinning.

"What now?" you asked, already bracing yourself.

"Nothing." he said innocently, though his eyes sparkled with mischief "Just thought I’d bring you something." he pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of flowers - wild, messy, clearly picked from somewhere nearby.

You blinked "What is this?"

"Just thought I’d bring you some flowers." he said, sitting down beside you on the bed and handing them over "Consider it a peace offering."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical "For what?"

"For being so annoying." he said with a smirk, though his eyes were unusually soft "But also… as a wedding gift, in advance."

You groaned, shoving the flowers back at him "I’m not marrying you, Satoru."

He chuckled, taking the flowers back, but not looking deterred in the least "You say that now, but wait until you see the cake I have planned."

★ --

It was the middle of the night when you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You were going to bed. The mission had been exhausting, and all you wanted was to get back and rest. Of course, Satoru had already managed to find you and follow you to your room.

"Soooo~" Satoru began, his tone almost sing-song as he glanced over at you.

You immediately knew where this was going "Don’t even start."

He ignored you completely "I’ve been thinking - again - and I’ve come up with the perfect reason for us to get married."

You sighed, rubbing your temples "I’m really not in the mood, Satoru."

"Hear me out." he said, his voice teasing but somehow more serious this time "We’re already spending all our time together. We're friends. Like really close ones. Hell, we even know each other’s bad habits. It wouldn’t be that different from what we’re already doing."

You looked at him, exhaustion settling into your bones "Satoru- "

"I’m just saying." he cut you off, his tone gentler now, but still carrying that playful edge "I’d be a great husband. I’d let you win every argument. I’d let you pick the TV shows we watch. I’d even give you the last slice of pizza."

Despite yourself, you laughed "The last slice? That’s a big deal for you."

"See?" he grinned, clearly pleased with himself "I’m already husband material."

★ --

Of course, there were days when Satoru’s persistence was anything but quiet. One afternoon, he tried to enlist Shoko in his scheme. The two of you were sitting in her office, discussing an upcoming mission, when Satoru barged in with his usual dramatic flair.

"Hey, Shoko!" he said, all smiles as he leaned against the wall "Don’t you think we’d make a great married couple?"

Shoko didn’t even glance up from the papers she was reviewing "Are you still going on about that?" she asked, her tone dripping with disinterest.

Satoru shrugged, his grin never faltering "What? We both know she’d love to marry me."

You glared at him, your patience wearing thin "Satoru, I swear- "

But Shoko snorted, finally looking up with an amused smirk. "Honestly, I don’t know who’s worse. You for asking, or her for tolerating you."

"Hey!" you both said in unison, but even you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped.

★ --

Time passed, and the teasing evolved. Satoru wasn’t just bringing it up in private anymore - oh no, now it was a full-blown spectacle. One afternoon, you were walking across the school grounds, arms full of paperwork, when Satoru suddenly appeared in front of you, out of nowhere, blocking your path.

"Will you marry me?!" he asked loudly, his grin wide, as if he were proposing in front of an audience.

A group of students nearby turned to stare, whispering and giggling among themselves.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you shot him a death glare "Are you out of your mind? People are watching!"

Satoru shrugged, unfazed by the attention "Let them watch. I’ll give them a show." he winked at one of the students who was clearly gawking at the scene "She’s playing hard to get."

You groaned, exasperated, and pushed past him "I’m going to murder you in your sleep."

"Ah, see? That’s marriage talk already." he called after you, his laughter trailing behind.

★ --

And then there were the days when Satoru’s persistence crossed over into full-blown ridiculousness.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and you were heading to a café to grab lunch. Satoru, as always, had found a way to tag along, much to your annoyance. You both sat at an outdoor table, sipping drinks while you waited for your food to arrive.

As you absentmindedly check your phone, Satoru leaned across the table and placed a small velvet box right in front of you. You froze, staring at it like it was a bomb ready to explode.

"What… is this?"

He waggled his eyebrows in a dramatic fashion "Open it."

You hesitated, but finally flipped open the box, revealing… a plastic ring, the kind you’d get from a toy vending machine.

"Satoru." your voice was flat, unimpressed.

"Hey, it’s a placeholder." he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself "We can get the real one when you say yes."

You stared at him, utterly speechless for a moment, before you closed the box and shoved it back toward him "Get out of my sight."

"But you didn’t say no!" he teased, picking up the box and twirling it between his fingers.

"I hate you."

"You love me." he said, beaming "But, seriously, think about it. The kids would get off welfare immediately, and we wouldn’t have to deal with all the bureaucracy."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "You’ve been asking me this for months."

"And I’ll keep asking," he said, his tone light but his eyes serious now "Until you see that it makes sense. For Megumi and Tsumiki, for you… for us."

★ --

Eventually, after months of playful persistence, logical reasoning, and over-the-top proposals, you found yourself sitting next to him on the bed, in his room.

Should you do it?

You stared at the ceiling, your mind running through the endless logistics of what would come next: the paperwork, the explanations, the questions from friends and colleagues. It felt surreal, and yet, a small part of you - one you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge - wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with the idea of marrying Satoru. If anyone could navigate this strange situation, it was him.

He was, after all, your closest companion.

Satoru shifted beside you, and you could feel his eyes on you. He hadn’t moved to push or tease you like he normally would; instead, there was a softness, a strange patience that you weren’t used to from him.

"You're thinking too hard." he said, his voice quieter now, lacking its usual playful edge.

"Satoru." you said quietly, not looking at him.

"Hm?" He glanced over at you, waiting.

You turned to look at him then, studying the way his expression softened just enough to remind you that underneath the bravado and charm, he cared. Maybe more than he let on.

"If I agree to this... stupid marriage thing." you said slowly, weighing every word carefully "You- "

"No strings, no weirdness. I promise." he leaned in closer, interrupting your serious tone with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shot him a look, warning him not to get too cocky, but there was something a little infectious about the way he smiled at you.

"You better keep that promise." you muttered, shaking your head as you lay down on his bed.

"Oh, trust me." he said with a wink, "I'm a man of my word."

You sighed, the weight of your decision settling in "I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this."

Satoru chuckled, reaching out to lightly pat your shoulder.

"Hey, look at it this way - we’ll make a great team. Plus, you get to say you’re married to the most charming guy in the world."

"Don’t push it, Gojo." you shot him a tired look.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Trick or Treat…or Else

This is unfinished because I felt like I kept screwing up Jason’s characterisation a bit. Gotta work on that.

Jason glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall to his left, it’s was 2:57 on Halloween. His patrol wasn’t due to start for a few more hours, but something tugged at him that cause him to feel like something was going to happen. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad feeling just yet. He just knew that whatever is was put him on edge.

“Haven’t you taken enough pictures, Danny?” Tucker laughed through the screen of the computer Danny had set up in a four way call between himself, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz.

“I could never have too many pictures of my little princess!” Danny retorted as he snapped another photo of little Ellie in her Halloween costume.

“Ahem!” Ellie puffed out her chest and put her hands on her hips. The pose made her look even cuter, Danny thought.

“Oh my apologise,” Danny grinned cheekily, “my little badass.” He corrected himself.

Ellie, decked out in her mini Red Hood costume. The child sized leather jacket had been a gift courtesy of Sam, while the mini Red Hood helmet had been designed and built by both Tucker and Danny working together to ensure it would be perfect. They might have gone a little overboard however, since they’d managed to incorporated a real working com unit, an air filtration system in case of a gas attack, night vision, heat vision, and an emergency beacon should Ellie wander off and get lost that only Danny or Tucker could access. Danny had also hand painted two nerf guns for her, and gave her hand painted ‘grenades’ that were just glitter bombs. Ellie had insisted, just in case she was ‘forced’ to choose ‘trick’ from Trick or Treat.

“Danny,” Jazz voice held a fondness to it, “if you keep it up with the picture not only will you no longer have any space on there, you guys will be too late for the trick or treating.”

“Oh no! I don’t wanna miss it,” Ellie ran to Danny and started tugging on the sleeve of his costume, “let’s go!” She looked up at him and though the helmet obstructed Danny being able to see Ellie’s face, he could feel it in his bones that she was giving him those big puppy dog eyes of hers.

After a dramatic show of sighing in defeat, he picked up his daughter and said, “alright my starlight, but let’s say bye to the others first though.”

“Bye Uncle Tuck, Aunty Sam, and Aunt Jazz!” Ellie waved her little gloves hand at the screen from her place in her dad’s arms.

Tucker, Sam and Jazz all waved back and said their goodbyes and wishing her a fun time trick or treating. Danny bid his friends and sister farewell and ended the call.

“C’mon Little Hood, let’s go bug our neighbours for candy,” Danny beamed at Ellie as he put her back down and held out her candy bucket which had been a plastic black pumpkin from a dollar store. He’d hand painted a red bat symbol on the front of it for her, so that it would match her costume more. Ellie held the bucket in one hand, and held her dad’s hand in the other as they exited their apartment.

The clock had ticked over to 3:20pm the next time Jason spared it a glance. The trick or treaters would be put and about now. Most cities started later, but in Gotham there was always the risk of a rouge attack, so many parents would go out earlier, just to make sure they were home to avoid being out when it started to get darker.

Jason stretched his arms above his head and marked his page before putting down the book he’d just been reading. He stood up slowly and made his way over to his front door, checking that he had some Halloween candy at the ready just in case someone knocked on his door before he took off for the night. Jason knew that his building had several families with children under 14, so the likely hood of getting at least one truck or treated was pretty high.

When he was satisfied that he had everything in place he returned to the couch, picked his book back up and waited.

“Trick or treat!” Ellie cheered as the door opened.

The middle aged woman who opened the door let out a small gasp, “oh my,” she said with a smile, “Red Hood, I didn’t know you’d be patrolling our building?” Her tone was teasing as she reached somewhere past the door to grab some candy for Ellie’s pumpkin.

“Of course ma’am!” Ellie happily played along, making her own attempt at a deep ‘man’ voice, “crime could be anywhere!”

“Well I certainly feel safer knowing you’re out there protecting us Red Hood,” the woman laughed, “have a good patrol.” With that she closed the door, and Danny and Ellie Bahn making their way to the next ‘civilian’ as Ellie had started to call their neighbours.

Five groups of kids had come to Jason’s door so far. It was getting later, and he knew he’d need to start getting ready soon. Just as he was weighing the pros and cons of heading out on patrol early another knock sounded from the door to his apartment.

[ashtheketchum]

●Night swimm●

Daryl Dixon X fem.Reader

Era: Season 1

Summary: Daryl has a crush on you since he saw you. Merle kept teasing him that Daryl should finally talk to you, but the archer never had the courage. One day you were taking a bath at night and Daryl saw you.

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, FEM.Reader, unprotected sex, shy Daryl, Merle being a tease/asshole, in the water, one slap on the ass, Daryl being a lil perv, tits sucking

Words: 3.5k

Masterlist!

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PoV Daryl:

Our small group had come together at some point and we all had tasks. There was me and my brother, Merle, we looked after the food for everyone, Shane the 'leader' who ran everything. Lori, Carol, Jacqui, Andrea and Amy took care of our laundry and the children were still learning things from school. And then there was (Y/N). She somehow took care of everything at the same time, she defended, caught us fish, taught the children new things and also helped with the laundry. She really was strong.

Unfortunately, sometimes I caught myself staring at her sometimes, and not in a harmless way. She always wore shorts and a top, with a lumberjack shirt. The shorts fit her ass perfectly and her top hugged her breasts perfectly too. Her loving yet stern smile turned me on again and again, so that I had to satisfy myself that same night. Inside, I felt incredibly embarrassed for staring at a woman so much that even my brother noticed and annoyed me about it.

Merle had tried to flirt with (Y/N) many times, but she always ignored him or turned him down. However, after he noticed the looks I kept giving him when he flirted with her, he actually stopped, but not because he was begrudging me and being a good brother. No, he did it to tease me. “Hey, her ass is hot, but don’t stare so obviously, little brother.” “Maybe we can share the little one? You get her every Monday and I get her the rest of the week, okay?” “Hey, slap her ass! Let’s see how she reacts.” He told me again and again, no matter when and no matter where. While hunting, while eating, and he even stands outside when I sat in my tent and masturbated. But one day he really went too far.

It was another one of those days where I stared at (Y/N) and today I would also talk to her about the food. I wanted to ask her if she wanted anything specific, whatever it was I would get it for her. So I slowly walked towards her, her back was turned to me and she was hanging up the laundry with Lori. (Y/N) had bent over slightly to pick up a basket, so I had a perfect view of her ass for a moment, but I had to pull myself together. I was standing just two meters away from her when I suddenly saw Merle. He walked between us as quietly as he could and slapped (Y/N) hard on the ass. Before she could turn around, however, he had disappeared again and (Y/N) was now staring at me.

Unknowingly, I stared after Merle for a moment before looking at her. Her look made me pause, all the color in my face disappeared and I only now checked what had just happened. Merle had slapped her ass and now it looked, to her, like I had slapped her ass. “Daryl?” She just said confused. I looked at her uncertainly, like a child who wanted to ask an adult something but didn't dare. She still looked at me confused, although I didn't see a trace of anger in her eyes. “You need something…?” When she asked me this, I shrugged together and realized why I wanted to go to her in the first place. And now my entire face turned bright red and I could now feel Lori's gaze on me. She looked at me confused, just as did (Y/N). “N-nah… s-sorry…” And with those words I walked away from her. In my head, I planned to stay in the forest for several days until this situation might calm down.

As I went to my tent to get my crossbow, I saw Merle staring at his hand. It was the hand he had used to spank (Y/N)'s ass. Merle had a satisfied grin on his lips before he looked at me. "And? Does she have a wish for the food?” His innocent question got on my last nerve, but I decided to just ignore him and disappear into the forest. Merle just laughed loudly before following me.

PoV (Y/N):

I looked after Daryl confused, I could still feel the stinging on my butt cheek. My eyebrows furrowed a little, but I slowly turned back around to pick up the basket to get the next load of laundry. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” I heard Lori ask. I jumped and looked at her with wide eyes, completely forgetting she was still here. So I gave her a quick little smile before nodding and then walking away.

However, nothing seemed to fit together in my head. Of course, I had noticed that Daryl stared at me sometimes and that he had trouble being alone with me, but I never expected him to slap my ass. A strange tingling sensation formed in my chest, but I ignored it and instead picked up the next load of laundry.

<Time Skip>

The sun was slowly setting and the temperature dropped a little, but still not enough. It was incredibly warm and sleeping naked or just in underwear these days was too dangerous. With the apocalypse, however, things changed and many things could no longer be done. And showering or bathing was one of those things. It wasn't that I really needed to wash, but I was longing for some grooming after a month of going without.

So I grabbed a few clean clothes, two towels and thick socks before I went to this huge pond. The water was pleasantly cool, clean and no walkers would come because I had searched this area twice today. The water shone in the moonlight and I was already smiling slightly.

I put my clean clothes on a stone before I started to take off my dirty clothes. It was risky because someone could see me at any time, but I hurried so that my body was quickly in the water. I also checked again to see if anyone in my small group was nearby. Since no one was there, the cool water greeted me very quickly and I sighed quietly. I briefly submerged myself completely so that my hair would get wet too. I gently massaged my scalp and body to rub away all the dirt.

PoV Daryl:

The world really wasn't on my side today. On a day when I wanted to stay in the forest for a long time, Merle and I found a deer and three rabbits. Merle had already brought the animals to camp and then gone to sleep, but I didn't want to lie down yet. I wandered around in the forest for a while, kicking some stones around and looking around. But suddenly I heard a loud splash, as if someone had gone into the water. I immediately raised my crossbow and I slowly moved towards the pond, which was right next to our camp.

I slowly walked through the trees until I suddenly tripped over something. I looked down in confusion before kneeling down and picking up the strange material. But as soon as I realized what material it was, I turned bright red and held my breath. It was a bra and not just any bra. No, it was (Y/N)´s bra, I sometimes saw the straps on her shoulders, through her top or when she bent over slightly. So I immediately looked around to see her, maybe something had happened to her, maybe she was kidnapped or someone forced her to take off her clothes. But when I looked into the pond, I turned even redder. She stood there, naked and wet. She was in the water up to her cleavage, but I could see the slight hint of her breasts. I saw her side perfectly, her fingers running through her wet hair.

Even if it was wrong, I hid a little more behind the tree, but only so that I still had a perfect view of her. It became incredibly tight in my pants and I had the uncomfortable need to touch myself again. She looked around briefly, which is why I hid completely behind the tree. I even held my breath. After a few seconds I looked back at her and my eyes widened more. (Y/N) had stood up and was now letting her hands slide over her perfect breasts. Her nipples had become a little hard from the cold water. My cock was throbbing incredibly hard, it was already painful.

Just as I was about to reach for the bulge in my pants, I stepped on a branch and it cracked far too loudly. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, hoping (Y/N) hadn't heard. But I was wrong. "Hello?"

PoV (Y/N):

I heard a branch snap, which made me immediately go under the water again. I stayed quiet for a moment to hear any grumbling or growling noises, but I heard nothing. So it was a human. Fuck and right now I didn't have my knife in the water with me. "Hello?" I called out in the direction from which I heard the noise. There was a moment of silence before someone stepped out from behind the tree. It was Daryl and he raised his arms innocently, slowly lowering his crossbow to the ground. My cheeks immediately turn bright red, but my shoulders relaxed. I sighed quietly before standing up again, more unconsciously than consciously. “Daryl-?” Before I could say or ask anything else, the archer interrupted me. “I-I can explain tha’…” He murmured quietly, his face bright red.

It didn't fit together again. First he slapped my ass and then he watched me how I take a bath? Or were these all just coincidences? So I looked at him waiting, but I was too far away from him. We would have to talk too loudly and probably wake everyone up. So I crossed my arms over my chest so he could barely see them and I stepped more out of the water. I came out until the water only covered my waist and everything below. I could tell Daryl wanted to sink into the ground. "Yeah?… I'm waiting…" Although I didn't want to push him, I did want to get this all over with as quickly as possible. "I-I… I was… huntin' and then I saw ya… I'm sorry…" He didn't lie. Daryl wasn't the type of guy who liked lying, nor was he good at it. So I smiled slightly before relaxing a little more.

Daryl was attractive, I really had to say that. His arms, his blue, intense eyes and his physique in general always attracted me. Sometimes I felt really honored that he was staring after me. So I took a risk. “You wanna join?” My question immediately made him look up, but he immediately closed his eyes when he saw my naked body. I really had to hold back a chuckle, he was really cute. I slowly walked closer to him until I was completely in front of him. I gently grabbed his hand and I gently pulled him towards the water. “Come on… We can talk a little bit…” I then suggested. Daryl just grumbled under his breath before turning away and unbuckling his belt. I bit my bottom lip briefly before turning around and slowly walking into the water. I went low again until my breasts were now hidden again by the water before turning around and looking at Daryl.

He was now up to his stomach in the water, but he kept his top on. I looked at him briefly, confused but also amused, but I decided not to ask him. As he stood in front of me, his eyes wandered everywhere. To my eyes, to my shoulders, to my collarbone, to my lips, to my cleavage and then back to my eyes.

“Soo… why exactly did you slapped my ass?” I then asked teasingly. The tips of his ears now turned bright red and he cleared his throat quietly. His gaze shifted to the side and he took a few deep breaths. "Tha'… wasn't me tho… 'was ma brother…" He then admitted quietly. I tilted my head slightly to the side in amusement and I smiled softly at him. It was kind of clear to me that Daryl hadn't slap me on the ass, but I wanted to hear it from his mouth again. “And…why were you spying on me?” He shrugged again and looked down at the water.

I came a little closer to him so that my breasts were now pressed against his chest and he then looked deep into my eyes. His blue eyes lit up briefly and I could have sworn I felt his cock against my thigh. But I didn't mention it. Not yet. "I-I was… huntin'… just as I said…" Giggling, I placed my hand gently on his cheek and stood slightly on my tiptoes so that I was closer to him. With my other hand I grabbed his wrist and I put his hand on my hip. His other hand followed automatically and now he held my hips. “It’s okay… but next time just ask if you could join me, alright?” My suggestion made him gulp.

I looked briefly at his lips before looking back into his eyes. My hands went to his shoulders and I pulled myself up slightly until I could wrap my legs around his waist. Now his shaft was pressing against my pussy and I moaned softly before I came closer and closer to him. Daryl took a short, sharp breath before looking uncertainly into my eyes. “W-wha’ are ya doin’…?” He asked me uncertainly. He looked excited, almost afraid, but your grip on my waist pulled me a little closer to him. My eyes sparkled briefly with excitement. “I just want to spend some time with you… you don’t have to…” I whispered again quietly to confirm that he really wanted all of this. When the archer shook his head slightly and then nervously licked his bottom lip, I grinned wider and then pressed my lips gently against his.

The younger Dixon growled briefly before returning my kiss sloppily. I wrapped my arms around his neck and continued to grind my pussy against his shaft. A strangled groan escaped him and his grip around my hips tightened. “You’re so hard…” I giggled softly against his lips before placing my hand on his cheek. "'m sorry… 'm jus'…" Before he could say anything else, I kissed him gently again. “Don’t apologize… I like it…” I then purred softly against his lips. Swallowing hard, he nodded briefly before I reached down between us and gently grabbed his shaft. Daryl immediately gasped quietly and he also looked down. I bit my lower lip lightly, while I rubbed the head of his penis between my folds until it hit my entrance.

“You want that…?” I asked, just to be sure. The archer nodded again and he pushed me down slightly until his tip was inside me. I immediately inhaled sharply and pressed my face into his shoulder. I already knew that I had to stop myself from screaming. I lowered myself deeper and deeper onto him until he filled me completely. His pubic hair tickled my clit slightly, but as I pressed myself harder against him, I felt his abdomen against my sensitive skin. Without realizing it, I had bitten his top and narrowed my eyes. Even though I tensed incredibly hard, a loud whimper escaped me and I was breathing heavily.

“Ya okay…?” I heard Daryl ask quietly. I felt his rapid heartbeat against my bare chest and his breathing was incredibly fast. I wondered if this was Daryl's first time, but I immediately shook the question out of my head. “Y-yeah… It’s just… I haven’t fucked with anyone in a long time…” I then admitted quietly, which only made Daryl grumble. His one hand went to my ass and he massaged it gently. The touch immediately made me tremble and I felt him lift me up a little, only to immediately press me back against his pelvis. “Fuck, woman… ya’r so tight…~” He growled softly against my skin. Whimpering, I clutched at his top and quickly realized that it was bothering me. So I tugged on it gently, but right after I did, he bit my neck hard. Squeaking loudly, I tensed up. He lifted my pelvis faster and faster. "No…~" Was all he growled.

I understood what he meant, but I whimpered loudly. “Daryl, please…! Faster~…” My lips found his neck and I covered his skin with gentle but passionate kisses. He listened to my request and moved my pelvis against his faster and faster, the water around us sloshing around wildly. With my eyes closed, I enjoyed the feeling while placing thick hickeys on his neck. “God, ya feel so good~…” Daryl's deep voice made me tremble for a moment before I moaned softly into his ear. I kept whimpering or moaning his name, making him twitch. His cock twitched and throbbed more and more and the tip of it constantly brushed against my special spot. A tingling sensation spread through my stomach and I breathed faster and faster.

I leaned away from him so I could look Daryl in the eyes. His blue eyes looked deep into mine, his pupils were much wider so that you could barely see his blue irises. He bit his bottom lip hard and looked closely at my features. I had my eyebrows furrowed slightly and my mouth open in an 'O' shape, my eyes staring deep into his. “Fuck, why haven’t you ever spoken to me?” "'Was afraid… god, ya're just so pretty…" He lowered his head and moved me much faster now, my clit rubbing over his shaft again and again.

His sweet words sent a chill through me and I had great difficulty suppressing my voice. My inner walls hugged his shaft much tighter and they sucked him greedily, which only made the archer moan loudly. His gaze went to my bare breasts, which were bouncing up and down due to the movements. Water slowly ran down my breasts and my nipples became hard. Suddenly he pushed my upper body closer to him and he sucked greedily on my nipple. I immediately gasped loudly and grabbed his short, dark blonde hair tightly. “God, Daryl~…! Yes, just like that~!” My words made him growl and he twitched again inside me.

He flicked his tongue over my nipple and moved his pelvis slightly against mine. “Ya’re driving me crazy, woman~…” I had to grin, but another loud gasp escaped me as I felt myself getting closer and closer to my orgasm. “I’m cumming~…!” I whimpered loudly. Daryl growled briefly before letting go of one breast and moving to the next. As his lips wrapped around my nipple, he sucked hard again and I arched my back. "Fuck, Daryl~!" With his name on my lips, I came around him and I gripped his top tightly.

Daryl immediately growled loudly and pulled out of me. In the same second he shot his sperm into the water and he moaned my name. I was still in his arms, my pussy still throbbing but calming down a bit before Daryl slowly carried me out of the water. Once we got out of the water, he put me on the ground to put his pants on himself. I could briefly see his cute ass and a grin crept onto my lips. “Cute butt…” “Shuddup…” He must have been embarrassed. Once the archer was properly dressed again, he helped me get dressed and then picked me up bridal style. I just wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. “Do you wanna sleep in my tent?” I then asked him quietly as his footsteps led us to my tent. Daryl seemed to think for a moment before looking at me. "If ya want…" “I wouldn’t ask you if I never wanted that…”

Daryl snorted briefly and a slight grin briefly appeared on his lips. He then let me down to the ground in front of my tent and opened the tent. I quickly climbed in and then looked back at Daryl. “'m gonna get some clothes… gonna be back again…” And with those words he disappeared briefly. Smiling, I closed the tent slightly before lying down in my tent bed. I looked patiently at the tent door until Daryl opened it again and walked in to me. He had new clothes on. “Ya tired?” "Yeah… a little… you fucked me good." I teased him.

The archer looked away briefly, a visible blush forming on his cheeks. "Tha´ was nothin´, hun..." Giggling, I then moved to the side a little to give him some space. He very hesitantly climbed into the tent bed and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Well… was tha’ now jus’ a one-night stand or…?” Before he could continue, I pressed my lips to his. "No… I love you, Daryl…" He snorted briefly in amusement before kissing my lips gently. Even though he didn't respond to my words, I saw in his eyes that he loved me too. And that's how we fell asleep. With the knowledge that we loved each other and cuddled together too.

[the-traveling-poet]

okay how abt levi coming home to see his twin babes and his wife passed out on the bed, still in their normal clothes. the kids are on top of reader and they're all just sleeping and levi walks in on them and he just stares at them with sm love that he's like 'what did i do to deserve them?' 😭♥

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ofc lovely! i’m so sorry for the amount of time it took me to get to this! i also hope you don’t mind i did this in drabble form, i felt it suiting. but if anything written doesn’t match your preferences, just let me know and i’ll re-write!

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @pelicanpizza @humanitys-strongest-brat @raginginferno267 dm me to be added to the taglist for levi content :)

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For a moment, he wondered if he might have forgotten something. Perhaps plans had been made during his work day without his knowledge. Maybe he was just home early...no, it was half past nine in the evening. He was home late, if any time hadn't been accounted for.

Why then, couldn't he see nor hear a single sound? How could such a busy home be so quiet, as the sun had only just set? Usually his home was bustling with noise not unpleasant to his ears, especially come the warmer months of summer.

Setting his uniform jacket aside to hang on a peg, and removing the over-the-knee boots to be placed into a cubby designed to hold them off the ground, Levi huffed to himself as his eyes scanned his immediate surroundings.

Before him set the living room, cleaned and seemingly untouched; he'd have to thank his wife later for keeping the place up to his standards, especially with how hard she worked to provide for their children on top of it all.

Every time he saw the evidence of her diligence to keep their home clean on top of her other tasks, he swore he fell in love all the more.

She does so much...I need more time off duty to fully repay her.

Once his gear straps had been loosened, and his dress shirt half unbuttoned under his now untied cravat, he peered into the dining room and then the kitchen; still not spotting a single sign of life. Only a discarded cup sat at the dining room table, and a cleaned pan rested on the stovetop.

At least now he knew his family had been here for dinner.

Surely they couldn't have retired to bed yet? Those brats strive to become nocturnal.

He thought to himself as he meandered down a short hall leading to his boy's room they shared.

Inside, the room was dark and vacant under the faint glow of the moon shining down through their open window, blinds swaying gently in the soft breeze that filtered through and cooled the room.

Not a toy nor article of clothing was out of place. Hell, even their shoes had been stored in their respective sides of the closet they shared.

This isn't right...Though, perhaps Y/N had the time to remind them to tidy up.

By now, a slight furrow had settled onto Levi's brow. Grey eyes squinted through the darkness as he made a last ditch effort to search his own bedroom he shared with his wife for the whereabouts of his family.

It was too quiet. Too clean. Too dark...Just how long had he been in that meeting anyways? Long enough for the sun to begin it's decent across the horizon and miss his family's company? Surely they weren't out on such a night, despite its warmth and full moon. The neighbors were a popular spot to find his family when they weren't in the home, as the couple next door had children close in age to his own. Though, he doubted such an occurrence was the case tonight.

He hadn't seen a lantern lit outside their home on his way to his own door, after all.

But soon all worry and speculation was wiped from Levi's mind when the door to the master bedroom was creaked open.

Sprawled out across his bed lay his family, snuggled up and tangled into impressive positions under the duvet.

In the center of his bed lay his wife, an arm above her head and her lips parted in soft breath.

On either of her sides laid their twins, cuddled close to their mother amidst the mess of pillows and covers.

Normally Levi might have thought the boys were outgrowing their need or want to share a bed with their parents, but considering his growing concern earlier in trying to locate his wife and children, he couldn't help but smile down at the sight of them all so close and cosy.

He could never say no to his wife, much less his own children.

He stared down at them a moment in silent awe, a minute smile adorning his lips. Noting how soundly they seemed to sleep, he opted to slip into the shower for a quick wash up before ultimately joining them for the night. He was a bit of a night owl himself, but how could he resist joining such a warm scene?

Once he was dressed in loose pants and an old shirt, he crept over to the bed in the center of the room and attempted to slip onto the mattress without landing on any sprawled limbs.

And for the most part, he was successful.

Now laid back on one of his son's sides, he gentle scooped his arm around the boy’s back, easily reaching his wife's shoulder on the other side. With a deep sigh, and a small smile on his face, Levi closed his eyes, ready to finally relax for the first time today since the sun had risen.

"Daddy?"

The sudden whisper had Levi's eyes snapping open in an instant, to then peer down at the small voice that spoke it.

He came eye to sleepy eye with his son opposite his wife, who now peered over his mother's form to meet his father's curious gaze.

"Yeah, brat, s'just me." He murmured back, using his free arm to lean over and lightly ruffle his boy's hair.

"You got home late," the boy yawned, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, I got held back. I wanted to be back for dinner," Levi whispered, lightly stroking his thumb over the boy's plump cheek. His son nuzzled into the touch with yet another yawn.

"We missed you...Mom made pasta."

"Mmh...Any left that I could grab for breakfast?" Levi murmured back, smiling despite himself.

"Nope...We ate it all up. It's aaall gone now," his boy confessed with a guilty, sleepy smile.

Humming, Levi merely shook his head.

"I'd rather have you three full and satisfied than having any leftovers for another meal. Get some sleep kid, I'll stay home tomorrow."

A happy hum followed Levi's admission, though the man doubted his son even understood what he had said from how sleep he appeared. And indeed only a handful of silent seconds passed before the boy was asleep against his rough palm.

Though Levi didn't mind; touch from his family was like a balm. And so he was able to sleep soundly this night, silently soothed but the presence and soft breathing of his loved ones tangled in the sheets all around him, warming his heart, mind and soul.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Braid- Fili x Reader

Summary: Reader asks Fili to braid her hair, not realising what it means in dwarven culture

Word count: 1, 128

*want to be tagged in my next Fili fic? Click here*

The cool stone of the cell floor sent a chill up your spine, as you try to do anything to distract yourself from feeling hopeless and miserable.

As you try to rub your arms to gain some warmth, suddenly you feel and see Filis warm hand on your forearm.

“You really are freezing. Here, sit closer to me, it might help you warm up,” the sweet dwarven prince offers with arms wide open.

You try not to blush at such a sweet offer as place your tired head on his shoulder. As his warm arms wrapped around you, your body began to feel at peace. You felt safe in Filis embrace, and his shoulder was a lot softer than any surface you’ve camped on during this journey.

As you play with the plaits in his hair, you begin to think how well you might have slept if you’d been cuddled up to Fili all those nights. Such thoughts begin to make you blush, and you try to hide your girlish smile.

“Is my hair really so grand that it makes you smirk and blush like a little girl?” Fili teases, which earns him a slap on his chest by you.

“Shut up!” You laugh at his as you rise from his arm, now looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

You didn’t realise you’d kept your hand on his chest until you felt his own warm hand around yours. Feeling nervous you begin to ramble.

“I-I mean you do have lovely hair. I wish I could braid my hair like yours.”

“You don’t know how to braid hair?” Fili asked in disbelief.

“No, I-I never learnt. I always had short hair as a little girl and as I got older and grew it out, I guess I forgot to learn,” you explained.

Something about what you’d said seemed to sadden Fili, as his hand reached up to card from your loose hair. He looked always as if you’d told him you’d never been hugged before.

“But hey, maybe you could braid my hair for me. Not sure how long we’ll be here, so it could be a useful way to pass the time,” you suggested, trying to brighten up your friend again.

Unfortunately this suggestion seemed to have the opposite effect, as Filis eyes widened and his mouth hang open. You may have even caught a blush on the handsome princes face, but you could have been mistaken.

His eyes looked into yours, filled with hope of something, and like he was trying to find that something in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” You ask him worriedly.

“Yo-you want me to braid your hair?” He asked breathlessly, his tone filled with softness and hope.

“Well sure, I mean yours look so lovely and we’re stuck here,” you confirm.

Once again your words seem to have the opposite effect to what you’d hoped, as Filis face become deflated.

“Oh yeh, yeh we’re stuck here it’s not li-“

Before Fili could continue what you assumed would be an explanation, Bilbo arrived, keys in hand and a cheeky smile on his face.

*****

Bards house didn’t really seem like much of a house at all, it seemed to more resemble a hut with slightly more space. But as you see him with his children, and their belongings scattered across the place, it did feel like a home.

Being in a place so soft and warm, especially compared to the cells, you couldn’t help but smile at Bard and his family. It felt silly to think about, but seeing Bard with his children, made you think of Fili.

A part of you felt stupid for thinking about a life with him, but when you look at Bard, you can’t help but to see Fili.

Smiling sweetly at Bard, you can’t help but imagine how Fili would be with your children.

Although your eyes saw Fili, Filis eyes certainly saw Bard. He saw you staring and smiling at Bard, and his ideas of being yours began to crumble. He’d told himself that he would explain to you what a braid means to a dwarf, but now, he wouldn’t dream to try.

Storming out of the small home, Fili roughly exits through the front door and wallows on the steps. Filis abrupt exit causes everyone to stare.

“I’ll go check on him,” you speak softly, as you go in the direction of the blonde dwarf.

“Leave me alone,” Fili speaks coldly as you sit beside him on the step.

“But it’s such a cold night. Who else’s shoulder would keep me warm?” You try to banter as you snuggle closer.

Your attempt is unfortunately met with Fili trying to scoot further from you. His rejection of your affections saddens you deeply.

“I don’t know. Maybe Bard could keep you warm,” Fili spits at you.

“Bard? We’ve only just met an-“

“And you already look at him with such love,” Fili finishes for you, still not meeting your eye, as he stares at his feet.

Oh, suddenly it dawns on you. The realisation of Fili being jealous seems to cloud the realisation that Fili likes you, as you attempt to mend the situation.

“I look at him with love because I picture you,” you confess softly to your friend.

Filis head whips towards you, and his eyes go wide like they had done in the cell.

“Why?” He asks skeptically.

“Because I love you, you stupid dwarf. Because as silly as it sounds I picture you in a home, with little ones too,” you confess, trying your hardest not to hide away shyly.

At your confession, Fili couldn’t seem to control himself. With one hand behind your head and the other on your hip, Fili quickly pulls you in for a passionate and loving kiss.

The feel of his lips against yours felt like a relief, like you’d been waiting and needing for this moment.

As Fili pulled away from the kiss, he lightly chuckles at your attempt to bring his lips back to yours.

“I love you too, amrâlimê, and it would be an honour to braid your hair,”

Your love-struck smile soon turned to a look of confusion, causing Fili to laugh warmly.

“You couldn’t have known this, but in dwarf culture, when one asks another to braid their hair, it is a sign they wish to court that person,” Fili explains.

Suddenly Filis reaction in the cells seems to make sense, as the realisation dawns on your face. Fili nods with a chuckle as he realises you now understand.

Taking your hand in his, he kisses your knuckles as his other hand reaches the tie in your hair.

“May I?”

“Braid away, my love,” you accept with a sweet kiss to his lips.

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Paring: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

1.03

Hearing a soft knock on your door, you sit up slightly dazed. It takes you a minute to focus on the handmaid now standing at the foot of your bed. Her gaze was firmly locked on the direwolf snarling at her. You stroked behind Storm's ears, calming him. Many at court criticized and judged you for allowing your daughter and her wolf to sleep in your chambers, but you ignored their comments and allowed it. Since the handmaid in front of you served the high towers, you presumed she would have been aware of this.

“Is something wrong?”

“Forgive me for waking you, princess, but Ser Gwayne has asked for you to join him in his chambers immediately.”

Her words left a sour taste in your mouth. After consummating the marriage, the maesters had worked out the days you were most fertile, and those were the only nights deemed necessary for you to perform your duty. In the three moons you’d been married, Ser Gwayne had never been cruel towards you; he just wasn’t interested in speaking with you unless necessary.

“What knight is stationed outside my quarters?”

“Ser Thomson.”

“I haven’t heard of a knight with his name before.”

“I believe he only joined the king's guard yesterday, princess.”

Quietly, you get out of bed and consider your different options. Meera was in a deep sleep and would be unaware of your absence. You could refuse to go, but would it be worth giving Alicent and Otto more ammunition to tarnish your name with? The hour was late, and you will most likely be gone until the sunrise. You had only just excused your sworn shield for the night, but you didn’t like the idea of leaving your daughter in your chambers with a knight you did not know guarding her.

“Thank you. Ser Thomas can retire for the night, and Ser Criston can resume.”

She clears her throat. “And Ser Gwayne?”

“My husband can wait. I won’t be leaving until my sworn shield is here.”

She nods and goes to pass the message of the changing of the knights on. Walking to the opposite side of your room, you slide the nightdress off and replace it with a simple red-fitted dress. It might have been nighttime, but you wouldn’t be caught wondering why the castle was half-dressed. Once you finish changing, rebrand your hair.

Little time passed before the knights changed over. When you open the door to leave, you’re surprised to see how panicked Ser Criston is. He starts checking you over for any injuries. “Princess, has something happened?”

You step out of the room and close the door behind you. “No, nothing. Forgive me for asking you to come at this hour. I’ve been asked to join my husband, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving Meera.“

“You don’t need to explain,” he says softly. “The handmaid who came to my door didn’t explain why you called for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

The knight straightens his posture and says, “I’m sworn to protect the king and his family, which includes his granddaughter.”

“Thank you. Nobody aside from yourself, Raya, or my sister is to enter my apartment.”

—

A strange feeling lurks within the castle halls, causing you to feel on edge. Edric had taken you to the crypts of Winterfell many times, and never once did you feel afraid, but the Red Keep at night felt more haunted than the ghosts of the north ever did.

The hall your husband's bedchamber was in was absent of any knights, which confused you. Aside from being married to a princess, he was the queen's brother and son at the hands of the king.

You knock twice, but when you don’t get an answer, you push the doors open and enter. A large sigil of House Hightower hangs on the stone wall; it truly was an eyesore. You’d make sure any future children you have bedchambers have the same amount of Targaryen symbols.

Hearing a clattering noise, you spin fast. “Ser Gwayne?”

You abruptly come to a halt when you turn the corner, your gaze reaching his bed. Your husband wasn’t alone in his bed; a long-haired brunette woman had her leg hooked around his. She was laughing as Gwayne fondled her breasts. A naked redhead was bending over and picking up a knocked-over jug of wine.

“Gwayne,” your voice was too soft for him to hear. “Gwayne!”

He lurches upright in the bed; the look on his face would have been amusing in any other circumstance. Your husband was staring at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“What are you doing here?”

The two women quickly start to redress, judging from their clothes, or lack thereof, if you assumed they worked in a brothel. They run by you with their heads lowered, but before they reach the doorway, you snap, “Do not return to the red keep, ever.”

Gwayne stares at you, speechless. A valyrian steel sword would have sliced just as deep as the humiliation you’ve just suffered. Swallowing back any emotion aside from rage, you shake your head and turn to leave.

“Wait!”

“I’ll deal with you in the morning, husband.”

—

Anger bore through Ser Criston as he marched towards the High Tower's quarters. No doubt he would get an earful from Harrold Westerling, lord commander of the king's guard, for disobeying a direct order from the king's family to retire until tomorrow, but seeing how upset the princess he was sworn to protect was, he couldn’t simply leave things be.

Criston was confused when the princess returned and quickly dismissed him. Her eyes were full of tears, but she insisted everything was fine, so he did as he was asked.

There was always a warm bowl of oatmeal or stew available to members of the king's guard, day or night, in the armory. The sky was still dark outside, and there were only a few of her off-duty guards eating before retiring for the night. While deciding on which meal would keep him feeling full for longer, Criston overheard two handmaidens who were clearing dirty dishes, disguising the king’s second-eldest daughter, and how humiliated she must be by her husband inviting two whores to join them in the bed chambers. Criston knew something had happened to upset the princess, and the guilt for not pressing her for further information left him feeling guilty.

The princess was still grieving her late husband and life in the north. He wouldn’t allow a spoiled child like the son of Otto Hightower to add to her upset.

Gwayne answers the door and allows the knight to enter, but before he can ask why the other man was there, the wind is knocked out of him when Criston slams him into the wall.

“Wh-what did my wife tell you?”

“The princess told me nothing, but I’ve heard the gossip that is spreading fast.” Criston keeps Gwayne pinned by wrapping a hand around his neck. “I wonder what the king will do when he hears how you brought disgrace to his daughter.”

“I didn’t know she was coming.”

Criston loosens his grip slightly. His grip wasn’t tight enough to leave any bruises, but tight enough for Gwayne to squirm. “A handmaid woke up the princess and passed on the message for her to join you. I spoke with the girl myself.”

Gwayne frowns. “I did no such thing. I would much rather have enjoyed the company I was in in that bed with the princess.”

Reaching for the leather strap around his waist, Criston pulls a small dagger out and places it underneath Gwayne’s chin. “To insult the honor of a princess is an act of treason,” he warns. “You may live in brothels if you wish, but the next time you humiliate the princess by bringing whores into the keep, it will be the last thing that you do.”

[gleefullypolin]

The hypocrisy on fandom's reaction of "fell too soon" for friends to lovers

I find it very RICH on the fandoms reaction to S3 and the he "fell too soon" for Penelope. I mean honestly it is a bit spit in your face fantastic the way certain parts of the fandom are wretching on themselves to make that point.

"He didn't like her in season 1." I'm sorry, Can't hear you over "I'm to escort Miss Featherington to the floor" in EPISODE 1. That's what a friend does when a bitch spills her drink on a girl you were having a polite conversation with. Or how about hanging out with her laughing and gossiping like silly goofballs on the side of the dance floor, didn't see him doing that with other people either. Because they were FRIENDS.

"There was no build up previously to show there was a level of friendship there where he saw her any differently than a sister." Ok children...lets move to Season 2. We can talk about the race track and how they spoke about his travels which was very comfortable and very much NOT like a sister. They had an ease, like people who, oh I don't know, had been communicating personally all summer long via letters. And then lets go to Edwina's night where he shares with her that her letters allowed him to get in touch more with HIMSELF. something also so very personal he would not just share that with anyone. (I'll get to this in another point)

"He just suddenly likes her after he kisses her." Big ball of monkey shit here. Colin Sensitive Bridgerton was getting to know himself back in Season 2. He told Pen as much when he gave her the "You are Pen" line. And yes we all gasped and grabbed our pearls at the You are not a woman line, but it was not meant as an insult. Colin inserts his foot so many times throughout the seasons, you would think he could run a mile with his head. He simply means that she is such a dear friend to him he could not forswear her from his life. He has put her in a different category all together in his life. He makes this point when talking to her about Cousin Jack. He calls her constant and loyal and makes mention that their relationship has been so natural to him. He also just soooooo easily makes mention to HER MOTHER that he's been talking to her about things that would make other women blush. Like he doesn't even see it himself that she's just a totally different place for him. He didn't have to kiss her to like her. He already did.

"It all just felt too rushed." I could go on about how they had conversations about their purpose or lack there of, in season 2, more than once might I add, conversations that you would not normally have with members of the opposite sex. The fact that he has told her and proved that he would look after her, he has called her special to him. He has had feelings for her for seasons. Don't get started about the longing stares, they have been there since season 1. You have to actually open your eyes and look at them. Yes there was the whole infatuation of the Marina thing. Of course there was. But if you look at his mannerisms during the entire thing, it screams at you the difference.

But dare I say the biggest and most annoying hypocrisy of them all is that this build up of 2 seasons of them growing friendship, talking and learning about each other, developing feelings for each other regardless if they know what they mean... suddenly is rushed. BUT when compared to other seasons where a brand new face appears and we are to believe that in a weeks time our beloved character is now madly, deeply in love with this person and YOU BUY THAT WITH ALL THE SUGAR IT COMES WITH! Burning for you and Bane of my existence and all????

At the end of the day...live in your trope. I sat through those seasons. I cried through their HEA, I was happy for them. You can dislike the characters for other reasons. Dislike how they wrote parts of the season, don't like the plot points but don't make the excuses above that don't add up.

If you don't enjoy my trope, fine. But please, in the nicest possible way, shut the fuck up.

[separatist-apologist]

Guilty As Sin

Summary: Rhys has been watching Feyre Archeron for a long time. Thinking about what he'd do if he ever had her. How he'd keep her.

And now he has her.

TW: Dubious consent, blood kink, knife play

Read On AO3

-

It would be, perhaps, Rhysand’s greatest triumph to kill Tamlin Rosewood. After all, Tamlin had set him down this path so many years before—when they’d been teenagers, two boys from questionable, if not wealthy homes, looking for something to make them feel alive. Tamlin had asked Rhys if he wanted to see something cool, and then let him watch as Tamlin sliced apart a local vagrant. It should have been horrifying. Disgusting.

And yet Rhysand had found the whole thing fascinating. More fascinating still was how easy it was to claim his first kill. Rhysand needed a moral code to keep himself in line, to keep from just jamming a blade into every person who passed him on the street. Tamlin had suggested it, too, perhaps recognizing Rhys’ propensity for violence. Or maybe he knew all too well how enjoyable snuffing out life was. How close to God it made Rhys feel.

Pick those that can fight back.

People who’ve wasted their life.

Do the world a  favor.

Of course they’d eventually turn on each other. How long before two serial killers realized the world might be better off without at least one of them? It had been a cat and mouse game ever since, trying to catch the other unaware and going to ground when they failed. Tamlin had come close a couple times while Rhys had mostly just watched.

Waited.

Bided his time until Tamlin genuinely believed himself to be a god. That Rhys was so afraid of him he wouldn’t dare. Tamlin had let his guard down just enough to find himself a girlfriend he apparently liked. And she, Rhys decided, was going to be how he finally killed Tamlin. Collateral in their feud, he told himself. After all, any woman dumb enough to fall for Tamlin wasn’t worth much. 

He’d looked her up—Feyre Archeron. Her profile picture on facebook was an artbrush, but she’d helpfully listed every job she’d ever had since high school—and there had been many. Rhys ran them all down until he got to the art studio she taught at and, because he liked a little drama in his life, signed him up for one of her intro classes. 

He had been unaware he would be the only adult in said class until a wave of bouncy, giggly children had stormed through the doors, taking seats at easels while their parents vanished. He could have slipped out—he’d meant to, he swore it. But Feyre Archeron had come waltzing in wearing a baby blue sweater, sleeves rolled to her elbows, the hem hanging just beneath her ass, and oh. Rhys stayed in his chair, if only to admire the curve of her hips in those cotton soft leggings.

She didn’t seem like Tamlin’s usual type. There was a softness to her features, a constellation of freckles dotted across her nose alongside a splatter of violet ink in those cerulean eyes, that made Rhys certain she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her full mouth curved into an easy smile, gaze settling on him.

“Did you mean to sign up for this?” she asked him, eliciting another round of giggles from the children. There was no malice to her words, playful and sweet. He wanted to put his hands on her. Was she corruptible? Oh, how Rhys wanted to find out. His plans reshaped themselves as they looked at the other, though Feyre didn’t know it. Killing her wasn’t an option, not anymore. No. He’d take her for himself, stripping Tamlin of everything he cared about before finally spilling his blood. And he’d start with perfect, pretty Feyre Archeron.

Rhys offered her a lazy smile, running a hand through his ebony hair. “My skill level is comparable, I’m certain.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she replied, her delight evident. Rhys felt her amusement reflected in his own body. When was the last time anyone had charmed him by sight alone? Nevermind how funny he found her, watching as she interacted with each student with the kind of unending patience he could only dream of. It begged the question—what did Tamlin want with her? He knew Tamlin, and of all the virtues Tamlin might claim to have, patience certainly wasn’t one of them.

He had a famously vicious temper. 

Did Feyre know her boyfriend was a serial killer? Did Tamlin know his girlfriend taught school children in her spare time? What would be more abhorrent to who? Rhys never managed to untangle that, just like he never managed to make his brush strokes half as nice as the eight year old beside him. Rhys lingered, waiting until the kids were gone and Feyre was cleaning up to say something to her.

“I’m not some kind of weirdo, I hope you know,” he began, drawing a pretty laugh from prettier lips. 

“No? I might have thought so if I hadn’t seen how abysmal you are with a brush. I teach preschoolers on Tuesdays. You might be better suited in that class.”

“You wound me, Ms. Archeron,” he replied, one hand pressed to his chest. “You didn’t like my house?”

“Oh, was that what it is?” she asked, squinting at his muddied colors on the paper. “I thought you were painting me a stormy sky.”

“I’ll paint whatever you tell me to,” Rhys quipped, noting how her cheeks flushed. No ring on her finger—god, but how incredible to seduce her out from under Tamlin’s nose. For Tamlin not to realize he was losing everything to his old nemesis. How long before Tamlin learned of Rhysand’s treachery? Rhysand was a patient man. It was one of his better qualities, few as they were.

He’d send Tamlin a wedding invitation inked in blood, fuck his new wife, and then, as a gift to her, bring her Tamlin’s still beating heart.

Wife? That was a weird thought.

Rhys cleared his head. He was merely excited at the prospect of punishing Tamlin—that was all. Feyre was beautiful, but hardly wife material. Besides, the kind of woman who spent her time teaching children to color within the lines didn’t want to get shackled to the likes of him. Not long-term, at any rate. Rhys had dated plenty of women, all of whom woke up one morning deeply unsettled and certain they were making a mistake. He couldn’t blame them—he would make an awful husband. 

A good lay, though? He could give her that. 

“Watch yourself Rhysand.”

“Come, now,” he said, rising from the little metal stool he’d been sitting on. She was so much smaller than him—lithe and lovely, so breakable in a way that made him want to be careful rather than rough. “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“Fine. Watch yourself Rhys. I’ll think you’re flirting if you’re not careful,” Feyre said, twisting that thick, golden brown hair off her face with a paintbrush. Something within him stirred at the sight of wispy tendrils framing her face, fingers twitching with the urge to brush them from her cheekbones. 

“Careful isn’t how anyone who knows me would describe me. Besides…maybe I am flirting.”

This was the part where she told him she had a boyfriend. Rhys waited, catching the flicker of indecision streak over her features. He could practically hear her rationalizing it in her mind—there was no harm in a little flirting.

Oh, Tamlin. Rhys cocked his head. How far could he take this before she broke? If he could just get his hands into those tight leggings of hers, she’d forget all about that blonde haired bastard. C’mon, Rhys urged.

His silent plea fell on deaf ears. Too good for the likes of him, Feyre said, “Well, if you were flirting, I’d have to tell you that I have a boyfriend.”

“Lucky him,” Rhys replied, gut twisting despite his easy expression. “I know when I’ve been beat. See you around Feyre.”

And then he left, still smiling to himself as he went. She had no idea, of course. 

But Rhys would be seeing her very soon.

– 

Feyre stared down at the meal, ruined again. Behind her, Tamlin practically seethed with unseen anger. She could feel him working to leash his temper, to resist the urge to tell her I told you so.

I told you you’re a terrible cook.

“I’ll order dinner,” Tamlin said, ignoring the way Feyre blinked back tears. Bracing the ledge of the sink, she stared out the open window into the dark. She was trying—didn’t that matter? It wasn’t that badly burned, besides. They could have eaten around it. Feyre wished Tamlin would sit down, tell her it looked good, and eat it. Was that so much to ask? 

Apparently, given the heavy, long-suffering sigh from the man behind her. “You don’t need to try so hard, Feyre. You have me.”

“It’s—” She choked back the urge to scream that it wasn’t about impressing him. It was about care, about showing him that she loved him in some tangible way. Doing something for him so that he, in turn, might do something for her. Might do or say something that made her feel seen and safe. 

It had been a year of the stretching silence and the long sighs. Of not technically doing anything that would cause her to break up with her, all while giving off an air of not liking her very much. Well—that wasn’t fair. When the lights were out and they were in bed, Tamlin was very attentive. Detached, somehow—he never wanted her to look him in the eye—but he knew every place to touch and tease to make her writhe. And that was too often enough to convince her it was better to stay and hope whatever was bothering him faded and he went back to the love sick fool she’d first fallen in love with.

It didn’t help that Rhysand—Rhys—was still lodged firmly in her brain three days post meeting him. He’d been…well…he’d been beautiful. And charming. And funny, too. Endearing, even, as the kids teased him for his poor paint work. And when he’d said he was flirting, well…Feyre had imagined sending Tamlin a quick text message.

This is over. Don’t call me again. 

Throwing away a year on a man with a roguish smile seemed like a call for help. Still, he’d been on her mind, unshakable as her relationship with Tamlin stagnated like pond water. He ordered food without consulting her, ate it silently, all the while staring at his phone. He worked for a security firm and spent so much time watching the cameras, tracking people with a single-minded devotion she wished he’d focus on her.

“I’m going out,” he told her abruptly, only after Feyre had changed into a tiny slip of a nightdress, thinking she’d feel better if they at least had sex. His pine green gaze slid down her body without a hint of interest or appreciation. Just an acknowledgement that she had nearly every inch of her skin out for him before looking back to her face. “You can wait up, if you want.” How romantic, she wanted to scream. She felt utterly pathetic, a neglected housewife married for twenty years while her husband had an affair. Only Tamlin’s affair was with his job and Feyre would never come first. 

Say nothing, she ordered herself. And yet her traitorous lips said, “Couldn’t it wait another night?”

He regarded her without emotion. “It can’t. Get some sleep, Feyre. I’ll be in later.” Tamlin turned without a look back, swiping his car keys thrown haphazardly on the dresser, and strode from the room. Feyre didn’t, listening to the sound of the soft snick of the closing door and the sound of tires pulling away from the curb.

What was more pathetic, she wondered as she padded into the kitchen for a drink for water? Staying up late to seduce him, thus allowing him to have everything he wanted without doing any work at all, or staying with him when she was so miserable in the first place? Was this love?

Feyre didn’t get a chance to answer any of those questions. 

There, in the hall, stood a tall, muscular…man? They certainly seemed masculine, with broad shoulders that tapered into a rather nice waist beneath that high necked sweater. Matching black pants and a belt would have made him look rather nice, had he not been holding a massive, jagged knife in one gloved hand.

The ghost face mask obscuring his features didn’t help, either. Feyre didn’t move, heart hammering against her ribs. Scream. Run. Do something.

“There you are,” a deep, rich voice spoke from beneath the mask, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Don’t hurt me,” Feyre whispered, rooted in place as he made his way towards her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, drinking in the heady smell of his cologne and that horrible knife glinting beneath the artificial lights beaming overhead. 

With his free hand, he reached toward her and to her credit, Feyre didn’t flinch. She merely stood utterly still as he brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone before sliding his gloved thumb over her lip.

“Hurt you? Darling, I’m here to rescue you.”

Her brain couldn’t make sense of those dark words dripping with the promise of…the promise of what? Feyre tried a step backward, tripping over her own nervous feet to fall to the ground. The man lunged and she braced herself for the pain of his blade, for blood and misery before finally death. But all she found was fingers around her body, hoisting her into the air.

She flailed, heel connecting with his jaw. He swore and the two fell to the ground gracelessly a second time, him tearing her nightdress to keep her pinned beneath him.

“I do so like you like this,” he all but growled as she tried to yank that mask off his face. If she was going to kill her, she deserved to look him in the eyes. His fingers curled around her wrists, subduing her quickly—easily, before gathering both in one big, broad hand. The other came over her mouth and nose, cutting off her ability to breathe.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispered as she kicked out her legs from beneath him. Why was this happening? She was going to die. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. How could he say that as he was suffocating her with his hand? She  continued to writhe, for all the good it did her, her screaming mind drowning out the words her attacker was saying. Lungs burning, desperately trying to gasp for air, Feyre couldn’t control her limbs. She felt herself getting dizzy, choking on her own pooling spit.

“I’m not going to kill you,” her attacker said, his voice far away. “Stop fighting me and I’ll remove my hand.” Her body went limp as she complied immediately, willing to do anything if it meant she could breathe again. And true to his word, her attacker removed his hand, letting her take a gasping, sobbing breath of air. 

“Good girl,” he praised softly, caressing her cheek a second time. “If you do everything I say, no one has to get hurt. Can you stand?”

“No,” Feyre said, eyes closed as she focused only on the sensation of air in her body. She wasn’t going to help him abduct her, besides. Not that it mattered. He had her wrists bound before he picked her back up like she was weightless to him, walking her toward her front door with ease.

“My boyfriend has cameras on the door,” she said, unsure if she was warning this man or helping him. “He’s going to see you.”

A chuckle rumbled from his broad chest. “Oh, I am well aware. Your boyfriend is too busy hunting tonight to check…and by the time he does, you and I will be long gone.”

The cool night air was like a caress against her clammy skin. Feyre saw the car—sleek and dark—parked so brazenly in the drive. 

“The police will find you,” she warned, deciding for a little boldness despite her swimming head and desperate desire to fall asleep.

“That would require Tamlin to call them…and he won’t. No, my darling—this is personal and you’re simply caught up in the middle of it. Now—can I trust you to behave in my back seat, or do you need to go in the trunk? I don’t want to put you back there…but I will.”

“What do you mean?” Feyre demanded, mind swimming.

“I mean, I don’t want to die on the road—”

“About hunting,” she interrupted, looking up at that ghostface mask. “About Tamlin not calling the police.”

Her attacker seemed to hesitate, muscles going taut beneath her. “I had a whole presentation planned. Why spoil it?”

“Tell me.”

“Your boyfriend is a killer—just like me. He taught me, in fact—or rather, we taught each other. He can’t involve the police without risking himself so he won’t.”

“Am I bait?”

“Oh, Feyre darling, you are so much more than that. For now, you’re merely my guest. Now—can I trust you in the car?”

Ferye closed her eyes. If she wanted to survive, she’d have to be careful. She had the thought just as her attacker laid her in the back of his car. She panicked, seeing him hovering over her, and immediately kicked him in the throat. He stumbled back as Feyre filled her lungs with air and screamed. She didn’t yell help—but screamed at the top of her lungs hoping a neighbor would come out.

“Fucking shit,” the kidnapper groaned, lunging forward. With her wrists bound, Feyre couldn’t do much, especially when he picked her back up. “Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want—-” She screamed directly against his ear, causing him to jerk back a step. He didn’t speak, merely popped his trunk and dumped her unceremoniously inside.

“Remember I tried,” he said before slamming it shut. Feyre immediately started looking for the little hatch that would open it, pulling it with her teeth.

The masked man was waiting, arms crossed over his chest. “Why must you make this difficult?”

“I hate you,” she bit back, heart racing in her throat. He only sighed before producing masking tape. After a moment, she found it pressed over her eyes and mouth before he bound her ankles, too.

“Open my trunk and roll out,” he dared her, the sound of his voice somehow more terrifying than the sight of him. “See how far that gets you.”

He slammed the trunk again, leaving Feyre alone in the dark. She screamed against the tape, trying to break it until her wrists were raw. He’d begun driving, the music faint through the fabric of the backseats. Would it have been smarter to pretend to be his friend? To lull him into a false sense of security? Feyre had never been particularly patient. In fact, she was spontaneous to a fault, acting without thinking and hoping it all worked out. Of course, that was for school assignments and ghosting friends—never because she’d been kidnapped.

Think, Feyre. 

She couldn’t, though. Not beyond her immediate problem, which was the tape over her mouth and eyes. If she could just get it off, Feyre thought she’d be able to think more clearly. Figure out a plan and execute it. She rubbed until her wrists ached and her head pounded, but at no point did she manage to do anything but chafe her skin, exhaling for air roughly through her nose. 

Eventually, the car came to a stop, the music cutting off abruptly. Lost to the dark, Feyre went limp as the sound of shoes on gravel flooded her senses. A moment later, cold air rushed into the trunk as hands lifted her in the air.

“You’re a terrible actress,” her captor murmured, his amusement plain. “I’m going to unbind you when we get inside. Are you listening to me? Nod your head.” Feyre did.

She heard the sound of numbers being keyed into a pad followed by the smell of warm cedar, drowning out the unmistakable scent of snow. Feyre was set on something soft—a sofa, before the tape was peeled off her eyes, and then her mouth. She was in a cabin, she realized. Well decorated and comfortable—and likely remote. Had he taken her up into the Illyrian Mountains?

“People will be looking for me—”

“No they won’t,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the edge of his mask. He was showing her his face? Feyre panicked—the only reason he’d do that was if he didn’t intend for her to tell anyone. She almost begged him not to, but a second later he’d peeled it back, revealing…well. Not what she’d imagined.

He was handsome, the asshole. Dark hair paired with eyes so blue they seemed violet were the first things she noticed. He was staring down at her, his sensual lips curled into a smile. The sharpness of his jaw and his high cheekbones gave him an almost aristocratic air, and his warm, brown skin was utterly unblemished and smooth. 

She’d been imagining him as some ugly man. This was worse, somehow. If he was caught, he’d have prison groupies. People would wonder if he’d really done anything horrible at all given how lovely he was to look at. That charming smile certainly didn’t help. 

"I remember you," she said. "From the art studio."

Rhys grinned. 

“Let me explain to you how things are going to work between us,” he began, running a hand through his thick hair. “There is nowhere for you to run, and if you try, you’re likely to plummet to your death or freeze before I find you. No one is looking for you. Repeat that as often as you need to. Tamlin will make all your excuses. He’s not going to rescue you. Until I’m done, you are at my mercy.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, wishing she could curl herself into a small ball. 

He chuckled. “No, Feyre. I’m not going to kill you. I think we might get along perfectly well so long as you don’t do anything foolish.”

Like running away. The look on his face told her he expected her to. She didn’t have shoes, was dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She wouldn’t get far, but maybe he was lying. Maybe he banked on her fear to keep her compliant. 

He made a show of pulling a pocket knife from his pants and freeing her, frowning at her raw, bruised wrists. Feyre drew them against her chest, looking up at him warily. “What now?” He shrugged. “I don’t care what you do, so long as you remain within these walls.”

Fat chance of that. But Feyre nodded, hoping she looked properly scared. The cabin itself was small, and filled with cameras. He’d see her. Fine. He had to sleep at some point—he couldn’t be monitoring her all day, every day.

It was a bit of a stretch to call it a cabin given the home had two floors. It was remote, though, and seemed to function mostly off the grid, and had a rather nice kitchen she doubted he knew how to use. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a den he seemed to work out of—she wasn’t sure, given he didn’t open that door and merely gestured to it with a casual, don’t go in there.

Maybe it was where he tortured his victims. 

Feyre was given a room down the hall from him, devoid of a lock. “Look up,” he murmured, chin gutting toward the camera. “Wave to Tamlin.”

Feyre glanced up, unsure which of them she hated more. “He can see me?”

“He’ll see this,” Rhys murmured, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s easy enough to send it to him.”

“You could get back at him without involving me,” she heard herself say, wondering if that made her a traitor. This had nothing to do with her, and Feyre felt as if she was being punished unfairly for whatever was going on between Rhys and Tamlin. 

He shrugged. “Consider this a rescue.”

A rescue? Feyre was going to kill him. Maybe he saw it, because he nodded toward the twin bed shoved in the corner. “There’s some clothes in the closet you can use—”

“Who did they belong to?” she demanded, heart leaping in her throat.

“My cousin,” he replied, eyes narrowed. As if he were offended she might suggest there’d been another captive in the room. Feyre didn’t want to think about that—it made her panic all over again. 

Rhys left after a few more self satisfied words around how he’d find her if she tried to escape so not to bother. Feyre wasn’t listening, already thinking about escaping through the window. Was it locked? Her bedroom door wasn’t, which felt like a test. Was he hoping she’d try and escape? 

Feyre sat on the edge of that bed and talked herself into her plan. Ignoring that it was cold and isolated and that she was woefully unprepared, Feyre instead thought about Rhys.

He wasn’t a god. He was only a man. He might have cameras on her, might have her watched, but he couldn’t search miles and miles of forest. The only advantage he had, supposedly, was that he knew she was missing before anyone else did. Feyre had grown up running through the backwoods and something about the slick way Rhys had his hair shoved off his stupid, too-perfect, face, told her he could not boast the same.

Feyre found booties in the back of the closet, and a million pairs of leggings hanging in the closet besides sweaters that were far too big for her frame. They’d double as a blanket, she decided as she pulled it all on. 

He was probably watching her. Feyre turned toward the camera and the blinking red light and offered her middle finger before throwing open that window. 

“For fucks sake!” Rhys’s voice called from somewhere inside the cabin. Feyre scrambled out the window, toppling feet over head into the frigid snow. Rhys’s fingers skimmed her ankle, attempting to drag her back inside. 

Scrambling to her feet as he came right out behind her in that stupid mask, Feyre realized it was a lot harder to run in snow than she’d expected. She had a head start on him for a solid ten seconds before he slammed into her, taking them both back to the ground. Rhys was made of solid muscle and was heavy. 

His bare hand wrapped around her throat, arching her neck upward until his lips touched her ear. “I told you not to,” he said as she writhed beneath him, desperately trying to get out from under him. 

“I don’t care what you say!” Feyre screamed. Rhys grabbed her arms, holding them in one broad hand as he restrained her thoroughly.

“You will—” he began, but Feyre head butted him, earning a furious curse in her ear. He half fell to his side, losing his grip on her wrists, which gave her time to scramble back to her feet. Rhys was just behind, grabbing her around her middle before hauling her up on his shoulder.

Feyre screamed, and though Rhys stumbled, he didn’t drop her like she’d hoped he would. 

“Scream all you want,” Rhys roared in response, as if he needed to make his point. “No one can hear you!”

“Tamlin is going—”

“He’s not coming!” Rhys interrupted, his fury finally scaring her. She hadn’t been frightened before—not truly. But right then, draped over Rhys’s shoulder while he wore that mask in the dark, his voice dripping with condemnation, Feyre was frightened. He sounded irate, dragging her back into that cabin with sure steps.

He didn’t take her back to that same room. Instead, Rhys dropped her into a different one—one that looked distinctly lived in. One that belonged to him, she realized. Feyre attempted to scramble up but Rhys was consistently faster. He had one leg, and then the other bound to the posts at the end of the footboard.

He sat on the bed beside her, laptop resting on his thigh. He pulled that mask up over his face, tossing it to the bed beside her. 

“Look for yourself,” Rhys snarled, shoving the open messages on the screen in front of her face. “Look and see how much he loves you.”

There were a slew of messages between them, and yet Feyre’s eyes snagged only on one.

Kill her then. 

She waited to see if she’d cry, but nothing came. “You’re lying.”

“He’s not coming for you,” Rhys informed her, eyes bouncing over her face as if he were searching for something. “This is between us, and you’ve become collateral.”

“Then why don’t you kill me?” Feyre snapped, yanking at her ankles trapped in the leather cuffs. They were bondage cuffs, she realized, rather than handcuffs. 

“Why would I kill you?” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “Tamlin might not be mounting some heroic rescue, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t view you as his. His little toy to play with until he gets tired of her…” Rhys murmured, sliding the side of his finger along her neck. “I’m not supposed to touch.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“I asked you not to leave,” he continued, ignoring her plea as his fingers made their way down her shoulder. “Left the door open so you knew you could move freely through the house. You’re so desperate to get back to him, but I know what he does to pretty little things like you. Where they end up. How their families mourn.”

“Stop,” she whispered, unsure which terrified her more—his touch, or the threat of what Tamlin might eventually do.

Rhys caught her wrist, binding it over her head before Feyre’s mind could catch up with his actions. She was wholly restrained and he was holding a knife as he walked around the bed. 

“You’re still bait,” he murmured, one hand sliding over a wooden bedpost. “He can see us right now, you know. He’s watching, hoping I’ll kill you before you tell me something you shouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t tell me anything,” she whispered, trying in vain to wriggle away. 

“If you didn’t know anything, he wouldn’t have responded at all. He’s slipped up—you know something,” Rhys declared, running the sharp edge of his blade across her leggings. The fabric snagged, ripping neatly from ankle to waistband.

“I swear I don’t,” she protested as cool air caressed over her now exposed thighs. He wasn’t done as he ruined that oversized blue sweater, too, leaving her in nothing but the shredded remains of fabric. Violet eyes swept over her now naked form and rather than sadistic amusement, Feyre swore she saw unguarded desire staring back at her.

“You do,” Rhys murmured, pausing between her legs. She tried to hide herself from view, but she was restricted by the restraints. “You just don’t remember.”

“How is this supposed to help?”

“Who said anything about helping?” Rhys questioned, tossing his knife beside his mask. The weapon left a small impression atop the black duvet, sharp end pointing toward her ribcage as if to warn her not to try anything.

Feyre pulled against her restraints, for all the good it did her. “Then what are you doing?”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” Rhys told her without moving. He did, however, gesture behind him to a wall half hidden in shadow. There, hanging in a gold frame, hung a familiar work of art. Her first ever painting sold—it was a moody seascape Tamlin had accused of being cliche. She’d been brand new, and yet talented enough to be accepted into a showing where an anonymous buyer had overpaid for it.

Feyre still had that first check tucked away in a desk drawer, and when she felt overwhelmed or dejected, she’d pull it out to look at. That same buyer had purchased something from every collection she’d done, always paying far more than she was asking. 

“That was you?”

“I have an eye for beautiful things you know,” he informed her, his gaze a brand against her skin. 

“You’re jealous?”

“Desperately,” he replied without irony. “It’s always been like that between us. He has everything I want.”

“Rhys,” she whispered, unable to look at him anymore. She wanted to tell him not to do this, and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid. 

“He’s watching,” Rhys told her, glancing over his shoulder. “Keeps hacking into my system to see what you’re doing. Will you smile for him, Feyre? Let him think you’re happy?”

“Just let me go,” she pleaded as her captor slid to his knees between her legs. “I won’t say anything.”

“I can’t,” he murmured, lips ghosting over sensitive skin. “I want to keep you.”

Alive, was the unspoken word between them. Did he realize that was a low bar? A bar already set in hell, so far beneath his feet there ought to be no trouble clearing it. And yet…Feyre turned her head as he kissed up his leg, stomach tight from anxiety. 

“Like this?”

He shrugged. “I’d untie you, but I think you’d kill me with your bare hands if I did.”

“I think you’d like it,” she shot back, squirming when she felt his warm breath tease between her legs. 

“I’m hard just thinking about it,” he agreed with a grin. 

His tongue slid up the center of her pussy before Feyre could think of a good comeback. She yelped, trying—and failing—to escape the feeling. It had been too long since someone had done this for her, which was how Feyre explained the bolt of lust racing through her. He didn’t stop, eyes pinned to her face to see if she liked what he was doing.

Feyre was resolved not to react. Men always tired of this act after a minute or two, doubly so when they weren’t being catered to on their back, but instead forced to kneel. It was easy, at least in the beginning, to ignore his tongue teasing her clit. She thought about how cold the snow had been when she’d fallen out the window and reminded herself he’d shoved her in a trunk. That he was a killer, too, and toying with her boyfriend.

Or ex-boyfriend. Feyre wasn’t really sure what they were anymore. She supposed they were over, given he’d told Rhys to kill her. Feyre’s eyes slid to the camera in the corner of the room and somehow, she could feel him watching. Could feel his anger, too—as if this were all her fault. As if she’d kidnapped herself, tied herself up, and was now being forced into pleasure, too.

Are you happy now? Feyre wanted to scream it. 

“Eyes on me,” Rhys growled, forcing her to look back down at him. How long had it been, anyway? Her body hummed at the loss of contact, proving that though she was trying not to feel anything, she couldn’t block him out entirely.

“You’re wasting your time,” she whispered.

“All my time belongs to you now,” was his frustrating reply. He returned his tongue back to her pussy and this time, though she tried, Feyre couldn’t refocus on anything but his touch. It was all wrong—his mask lay on the bed, the knife still pointed toward her, inches away from her exposed skin.

For all she knew, he was lying to her and would kill her when he finished.

“Please stop,” she whispered, pulling on her restraints.

“Come, then,” he said in response, his voice muffled. 

Feyre didn’t want to come. For a while, she writhed against her restraints until he physically pinned her to the bed, holding her still so he could continue his slow torture. Feyre thought he liked when she fought him—that he wanted to bring her under submission. She held herself back, whimpering from the effort as she counted in her head. 

“Do you need a distraction?” Rhys murmured when he heard her reciting the ingredients to a recipe. “Something to turn off that meddling brain of yours?”

“No,” she gasped, but he was on his feet, hands undoing his dark trousers. “I don’t need—I’m fine, I’ll finish—”

“I know you will,” he replied, pulling his long, thick cock from his pants. Feyre couldn’t not look at it as Rhys moved around the bed, extending his restraints so he could reposition her. Feyre fought him, slapping Rhys hard in the face when he undid her arms. He grunted but didn’t react other than to sigh, his frustration plain. With the longer rope, he could tie her hands to the bedposts without overextending her arms while her head now hung off the edge of the bed.

“I won’t,” she informed him.

“You will,” Rhys replied, pinching her nose when she pressed her lips together. As he waited for her to take a breath, he rubbed his cock over her cheek while his other hand slid across her breasts to play with her nipples.

Feyre tried—oh, how she tried—but in the end, she had to take a gasping breath of air. He pushed the head of his cock between her teeth, not caring when sensitive flesh scraped roughly against the jagged edges. The hand that had once pinched her nose now held her throat, squeezing just enough to warn her not to try and bite. 

She did anyway.

“Don’t do that again,” he warned, taking his knife and resting it on her stomach. Feyre didn’t believe he’d use it until he took the hilt and began using the smooth silver to tease against her clit.

She couldn’t argue with him, mouth filled with his cock. She widened her jaw to take a breath as he angled his hips, pushing himself further until he was backed up against her throat. Feyre gagged lightly, praying he wouldn’t keep going. 

She didn’t want to throw up.

Clearly neither did Rhys. Groaning softly, he whispered, “You suck so well.”

She wasn’t doing anything, really—Rhys moved his hips, setting the pace so he could fuck her mouth. Feyre screamed around him when she felt him push the hilt of the knife into her body so he, too, could fuck her with it. He’d been right about one thing—sucking his cock kept her focused on what was happening between her legs. She could think of nothing else, her mind torn between the air coming into her lungs and what Rhys was currently doing with his mouth. 

With his legs spread, he’d returned to licking her clit, focused wholly on that and nothing else. How did he not cut himself on the blade, she wondered as she tried to wriggle the knife out of her pussy.

It didn’t work. Whatever he was doing, he was skilled. Feyre was reacting, her body tightening around the hilt of the blade thanks to the skill of his tongue. Rhys groaned when she sucked in more air than she’d meant to, lips forming a seal around his shaft.

“Just like that baby,” he moaned before picking up his pace. She was going to come and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Feyre tried, eyes leaking from the cock bruising her throat as saliva dripped down her neck. He was going to come, too.

Quick, she realized with some relief. He was timing himself with her, well aware she was close to completion. At least he wouldn’t draw it out? Or he had something else planned. Feyre didn’t know.

Didn’t want to know.

Didn’t want to admit that this was the best she’d felt in a long, long time. How fucked up was it that she hadn’t been able to get off for months, and now, tied up and forced, she was careening toward the sort of pleasure that threatened to unmake her. Was this how stockholm syndrome worked? Her body, flooded with pleasure, began to think that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be stuck here with him.

“Keep sucking,” Rhys moaned again, his hips losing some of their controlled rhythm. Maybe it was better to just get it over with. Feyre sucked around him, though she refused to move her head and help him.

Rhys licked faster, moving in precise circles until her hips began to roll into him, chasing the inevitable. Feyre clenched, finding purchase on the hilt of the blade. Rhys rubbed it just against the perfect spot, his tongue unwavering and Feyre was undone. She screamed around his cock, body bowing off the bed and directly into his mouth. She heard him curse though she didn’t care, half ruined from the pleasure now ribboning through her. Feyre was a star, white hot as it erupted over a silent sky.

She’d forgotten, just for a second, he still had his cock buried in her throat. With a twitching jerk, Rhys came into her throat, his come spilling out the sides of her mouth to join the mess of spit pooling along her collarbone. 

Panting, he pulled himself out of her to show her the knife coated in her own release and dripping with blood. His blood, she realized with alarm, noting the gash sliced over his palm.

“I got too excited,” he breathed, wiping it over her naked breasts. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Untie me,” she whispered, tugging against the restraints. “Please, untie me—”

Despite his injured hand, Rhys was quick about it, undoing her hands first, and then her feet. She’d told herself she was going to hit him for what had just happened, but instead Feyre merely sat up while he stepped out, half naked from the waist down, only to return with a warm rag he used to wipe up the mess of come and blood. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her against his chest. 

Feyre looked up at him, unsure if she believed him. “Tamlin told you to.”

“I wouldn’t kill my worst enemy to satisfy him.”

She swallowed. “And…if I wanted to kill him?”

Rhys grinned. “Say less, pretty baby. Say less.”

[marthawrites]

Only A Scratch

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: Aemond requests you, a healer who has tended to his wounds before, to accompany him on a trip to Duskendale.

Includes: One bed trope! A more balanced mix of plot and porn featuring elements of mean!Aemond, injury, dick sucking, cockslapping, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, and mentions of fem receiving oral sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story is based on a request from @babyaemond with the quote of "you know what your problem is?" with our favorite one-eyed war criminal. Thank you, Chris ily! 💖 I had an absolute blast writing this and I hope you like it too! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

The realm might not believe it, perhaps not even the occupants and workers of the Red Keep would believe it, but, Aemond Targaryen was a momma's boy. He loved and respected his mother more than anyone else in all the kingdoms. With her nameday coming up, Aemond wanted to get her something extra special.

One afternoon while visiting Helaena during her embroidery time – little niece and nephews playing with him in the middle of the floor – he brought the idea up to his sister. 

"I think that a lovely idea, Aemond. You fetching Duskendale's greatest painter? Mother will hang the portrait somewhere everyone can see," Helaena replied with bright eyes. "And they have those mollusks who produce the most dazzling pearls. You can't go all that way and not get her jewelry!"

Aemond smiled. Helaena and her children were the rare people to draw genuine emotion from the prince. "I will pick something in your honor. Your gift to mother."

"And Aegon?" She asked.

"Aegon won't get any credit for these gifts. He wouldn't even be able to keep the secret, much less add to the surprise."

The princess giggled; unguarded in the company of her family.

-

To say receiving the dragon prince's offer was a surprise would be a vast understatement. He wanted you to go along on this trip with him? Out of all the healers and maesters? Even if you wanted to, you could not tell him no. Bewilderment buzzed around you as you rode out of King's Landing on horseback with him, Ser Arryk, and Ser Erryk.

It wouldn't be a long trip. Perhaps a week, there and back, with some leisure time to enjoy the city when you arrived. 

The twins were a skilled and respectful pair. You felt safe with them. You wondered, mind idly wandering as the twins led the way out of King's Landing, if you were Aemond's first pick for an accompanying medic. Fog rolled up from the sea and blanketed everything with a haunting gray. If it weren't for golden ways of sun piercing through clouds and fog like javelins it would be considerably creepy. Rays brought out your natural coloring, and when you turned to look across your shoulder to prince Aemond he looked wholly regal: silver hair shimmering, riding garb decorated with his House's sigil (as if anyone would need reminded who he was), breath hanging in the chilly morning air like he truly breathed smoke.

He felt you looking at him. "I don't need two eyes to see you staring so hard, girl," he said, turning the full attention of his single eye to you. Lilac. It nearly glowed in the foggy subdued brightness.

"Apologies, your Grace," you said with a guilty little grin. "The last time I saw you I was bandaging your newly stitched thigh. A much different sight than what I have of you now. You clean up well," you said, tiny smirk not leaving the outermost corners of your mouth. "Nasty cut it was… how did it heal?"

His face remained skillfully blank. There could have been a dozen emotions hidden behind that perfected poise; from his posture to the way he held the natural shape of his bowed mouth, he didn't allow you a glimpse into how your words affected him. "It healed well."

"I'm pleased to know I made such an impression that you'd request me to join you on this journey. An honor, truly, my prince," you said with quiet pride.

"There are two women in court who are heavy with babes. Both will be making their entrance into the world and day now. None of the maesters would risk leaving them," he replied with an edge of curtness, words clipped and even. "It was only then I considered you."

Ouch. "Oh," you said, a little taken back. "Well, I still stand by what I said," you added, trying your best to deflect the sting his words gave you.

"Hm," he hummed, smug. It was his turn to smirk, now.

The rest of that first day’s ride went relatively smooth and uneventful. That is, until Aemond got bucked off his horse. It was a miracle you were able to stay on yours! The twins’ horses, while still terribly frightened, appeared to be of a more mellow mind for they were able to be soothed while Arryk scouted ahead to see what might have caused the fright. You dared not leave yours during the ordeal in case you needed to get a galloping headstart. Tension hung in the air until Arryk came back. “A black bear is perhaps a quarter mile away,” he said upon arriving. “I didn’t see any cubs and the beast seemed unbothered by me. It was gorging on berries. Are you alright, my prince?”

Luckily Aemond was able to break his fall. Unfortunately it came at the cost of landing on his forearm upon a ridiculously sharp rock. A jagged cut ripped through his riding gear and into his leanly muscled flesh. You had helped wrap it with a clean linen bandage for now, but crimson bloomed beneath the binding. He would likely need stitches once all of you were settled into an inn for the night. “‘Tis only a scratch. Let’s get to the next town before nightfall, yeah?”

Arryk stole a glance with you, and then his brother, and you once more before nodding to Aemond. "A scratch," his eyes had silently said to you; a flash of sarcasm gone quicker than a blink.

The next town on the road to Duskendale was small and hardly worth mentioning on a map. Climbing roses in full bloom covered the inn's facade making it quaint and homely alike; their heady aroma lingered heavily and you wished you could bottle the fragrance. Echos of the scent followed you inside and mingled with savory foodsmells of dinner. 

"'Fraid we're about full t'night. I hope you all don't want separate rooms," a middle-aged man with wild eyebrows said from behind the bar. He leaned on it as he looked all of you over. "Ain't seen one of you Targaryens around in awhile. Pleasure ta have you, Prince Aemond. Now, what can I do for you lot?"

"Three rooms and dinner for everyone. That's all," Aemond replied as he produced payment for the innkeep.

Turning, the man inspected what keys were left. "Hmm… I have only two rooms available." Pulling the keys from their hooks he handed them over. "One bed in each of 'em."

Yet another tense silence fell over the group. The unmistakable tingle of a blush rushed to your face. Shit shit shit.

"We need three. Surely you can kick someone out for the night," Aemond said a bit too sharply, fingers reaching for another few coins to bribe the man.

"Ha!" He guffawed. "No can do. Prince or no, I have a good reputation and I don't intend on breakin' it."

The twins shared an amused glance and you wanted to die.

"Fine," Aemond said as he took the keys and tossed one set to Arryk and Erryk. "See you at first light to break fast before leaving."

You followed Aemond into the room you'd be sharing for the night. One bed. You hoped it was a big one.

Once inside, any hope of surviving the night with all your sanity and wit vanished in an instant. The bed was tiny. And, as if things could get any worse, there was only one pillow and blanket. Surely Prince Aemond Targaryen never considered this happening.

Tension crackled between you two and you wanted to jump out the equally tiny window and run all the way back to King’s Landing. "At… at least neither of us will be cold in the middle of the night?" You half-stammered, trying, feebly, to break the silence.

"You better not snore, girl." He flashed you an icy glare but the smirk of his mouth spoke to something else. Amusement? A challenge? "I'm going to bathe."

While he was gone you were left to stew on the current predicament. Ever since you first laid eyes on the young prince he never left your brain. To you, he was unbearably dashing and roguishly handsome. He was cold, cruel (according to rumors), and smug in a way that made you want to strangle him and drown him in kisses alike. Over the last year or so you'd helped tend to his wounds a few different times, and each time you left with more butterflies in your belly than before. They said his kin were closer to Gods than men, and you believed it.

After hardly eating during the day you were half-starved. You ate your dinner while he was still gone, and left for the women's side of the bathing quarter before he returned. In your experience not all inn's had the space for a proper bath – you weren’t going to pass this up. 

Upon returning – clean, refreshed, and still warm from the bath – you saw Aemond laying on the bed in his nightclothes with his uninjured arm tucked behind his head. It was stupid – absolutely fucking stupid – how handsome he looked in such a regular position. He was all long, and lean, and sharp angles. You wondered if he housed any softness within himself. He'd got a fire going in the small mantle and it crackled peacefully. Light and shadows accentuated the natural lines of his chiseled face, eyepatch practically orange in the glow. After a moment of awkwardly fumbling with your damp hair, you asked, "how's your arm?"

"'Twas only a scratch. I'm fine," he answered, making no move to shift his position to make more room for you on the bed.

"You're lying. It bled through your bandage on the way here," you retorted, squinting at him suspiciously.

He sighed. "And now it's done bleeding."

Turning, you double checked the latch on the door. Sure of the lock you turned back to Aemond. "Can I at least see it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Are you deaf, or daft?"

It was your turn to glare at him. "You know, I never truly believed the rumors of you being cruel." You threw a cloth you’d used to help dry your hair onto the table as you stepped, firmly and deliberately, across the small room to the bed. "But now I believe it. You know what your problem is? You are rude." Without allowing yourself to process what you were doing – and not giving him a moment to, either – you were straddling over his lap. Demanding. Determination hardened your features. "Let me see it."

Aemond tensed beneath you and the pupil of his eye swelled. He wasn't expecting this. His jaw feathered as the hand behind his head immediately lunged forward to grab your throat. Squeezing gently, warningly, he smirked. "And you know what your problem is? You are an insolent brat." Your eyes softened to those of a doe and it sent his cock twitching beneath your thinly covered center. "Mayhap you forget who you are speaking to, girl."

Breath shuddered from your lungs. You felt him beneath you and it instantly sent fire rolling through your belly. Desire. Lust. So easily he turned your irritation to something else entirely. "I only want to check on it," you said against his careful grasp, trying your best to appear innocent.

He laughed. "Climbing on my lap like this I think you want something else. Tell me… what more does this bratty little mouth do?" With his question he slowly released his hold from your throat, thumb trailing across the softness of your bottom lip. The darkness of his eye glinted when he heard a faint whimper tickle up through your chest. "You'll have to be louder than that…"

Without having to be told you grazed your tongue along his curious thumb, pulse hammering behind your ribs and between your legs alike. Could he feel how hot you were? Boldness coursed through your blood. "Your Grace…," you simpered, looking at him with dazed eyes. "I've wanted you for so long." You dared to nip the tip of his thumb, gently rolling your tongue beneath it. He tasted clean with hints of wood and smoke from stoking the fire. It made you ache.

"I've other things that need tending to, now. Perhaps if you play by my rules I'll play by yours," he proclaimed, pushing his digit further into your mouth. He hissed quietly with the sensation. Greed and need simmered in his chest, threatening to boil over. You weren’t even doing anything and yet you still drove him near wild.

Your hands spread across his chest. “Those are fair terms,” you said with a playful tilt of your head. Your eyes roamed over his throat and what was exposed of his collarbone. Sleek, pale, warm. He was so warm. How could he be when it was so chilly? You unlaced the lazily tied strings of his cotton sleep shirt, fingernails gently scratching down his front. You smiled when he hissed another inward breath. Beneath you, he neared full hardness. “Needy prince…,” you crooned, sliding from his lap as elegantly as you could so you were laying between his legs. You stroked along his cock through his cotton sleep pants, teasing. “Perhaps Targarenys are closer to men than Gods after all.”

"I like you better with something in your mouth," he said, tutting, as he shifted his legs a bit to give you more room. Now he moved, you thought, how generous of him.

Vibrating with your own need and impatience, you unlaced the front of his pants and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You gasped, satisfied. "So big, your Grace." He had a lovely cock. Truly. It was hot and solid in your hand when you stroked it, head blushed and swollen without you even having to tug downwards on his length. 

You'd be lying if you didn't secretly hope something like this would happen with the tension of sharing a bed and room. But this? You licked up the underside of his shaft, wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking, and moaned at the sensation and taste.

Aemond groaned. "Is this what all you little medics do, hm? Tend to broken men before swallowing their cock?" He taunted, glaring at you triumphantly, mouth parted in silent bliss.

Instead of answering him verbally, you took more of his length into your wanting mouth. Flattening your tongue against him allowed you to hollow your cheeks. You looked up at him all the while, basking in the way his features changed; the way he somehow tensed and relaxed at the same time. You dragged your mouth up until only his sensitive head was wrapped by your lips, then down, lower, and up again.

"Fuck…," he groaned, eye rolling closed. One hand gripped into the thin faded sheets while his other moved to your damp hair. He threaded his fingers through it, gripping, tugging, just slight. 

Your eyelids trembled as a needy whine broke free from your lips. He popped free from your mouth with the noise. You chased his cockhead; wanton. Saliva built in your mouth and the sounds of you lavishing his cock were borderline obscene. You willingly choked on him; you throbbed as you squeezed your thighs together.

He grinned when you came up for air. His hand unfurled from the bedclothes and moved to the base of his length. He gripped himself and held your head still by your hair, expression widening with smug pride. He smacked his cock against the side of your face, traces of your saliva shiny on your skin. "Who knew my favorite little healer was such a whore, too," he purred. A second and third series of smacks followed. 

Bolts of lust jolted right to your core. You clenched around nothing; arousal gushing from you like syrup. "Aemond…," you gasped, vision hazy. "Please," you begged, unsure what you were truly begging for.

Him. Just him. Whatever he would give you.

"Such a pretty sound from your lips," he said, darkly and adoringly, as he delivered a final slap of his cock to the silky skin of your mouth. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the sides of your arms, pulling you up so you were nearly nose to nose. Without even looking he raked the hems of your sleep gown up while simultaneously yanking your smallclothes down. His fingers slid up your folds, testing your arousal. What he felt sent the entirety of his manhood aching. 

He had to be inside you. Now. 

"This little cunny is soaking. I don't even have to prepare you," he growled, shoving a long finger up into you without hesitation.

You might have peaked from that alone if he'd kept his digit inside you. If he pumped it. If he added a second. But, no, the prince did neither. When he pulled it from you he instantly brought it to his mouth and smeared your slick across his tongue. He smirked and you were sure you'd never been so desperate in your life.

Once again he gripped the sides of your arms and pushed you down into the old used mattress. He maneuvered behind you with ease. True to his word he didn't have to prepare you so he didn't. The young dragon prince guided himself right to your dripping center and eased forward. 

You arched deeper beneath him, supporting yourself on your knees while propping your ass up as much as you could. The stretch your body yielded to his sizable intrusion was glorious. You moaned, barely able to bite it back as he buried all of his rigid inches into your core. When he pulled back to snap his hips into you, you cried out his name.

"Be a good girl and shut up. Unless you want everyone in this inn to know what's going on in here," he said huskily behind you, the tremble in his voice betraying his outwardly restraint.

You tried to be quiet. You really did. But his hand holding the hair at the nape of your neck, and the lewd slaps of your smacking skin, and the pant of his breaths, had you wild with bliss and excitement. "So good… fuck! Aemond…! S-so good," you whimpered, body becoming lighter by the second.

The half babbled praises from your pretty mouth had the prince soaring. He gripped harshly onto one of your hips while the fingers of the other snaked beneath your pelvis to work your clit. "Wanna eat this pretty cunt 'til you're crying, too. Will you let me?"

"Please! Yes, yes, yes please," you answered as if in prayer.

His pace quickened, the angle of his strokes hitting you deep and hard, cockhead dragging and battering against that wonderful patch of nerves inside your walls. Leaning forward, his silken hair tickled your back. He bit into your shoulder, harshly drawing your flesh between his teeth so he could mark you.

You squirmed beneath him. Gasping, you basked in the sharp sensation of his teeth. It was the final thing you needed to lose yourself to the euphoria.

"Give it to me," Aemond growled in your ear. "Give your Prince your pleasure. Squeeze my cock like the little whore you are."

You did.

He fucked you through it, chasing his own high all the while. When you became too loud he turned your face into the mattress to muffle your noises. It helped. It also made all those sounds all the sweeter. For Aemond, it was the final thing he needed to lose himself as well. With a groan from deep within his chest, he pulled out of you at the last second and released his spend all over your back. It shone upon your skin. He couldn't help but admire it and he had half a mind to make you sleep with it on your back; marking you with his teeth and scent alike.

Slowly, you both came down from the natural high of orgasm. That cloth you brought in earlier was put to good use. 

"I don't mind that the bed is so small, now," you said as you both got comfortable beneath the blanket. Laying on your sides seemed the best way; him, the big spoon.

"Me either," he replied, a grin audible in his voice.

You found yourself no longer caring about the state of his arm. Not with the way it laid over your waist and rested up between your breasts. He held you against him.

Sleep came easy. 

When you woke up to Aemond's morning-stiff cock against your back you knew you had to find a reason to share a room with him for every night of the journey.

He would make it happen, he told himself, as he drew a lovely climax from you with his mouth before burying himself into you once again. All, before dawn cracked over the horizon.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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[itsabouttimex2]

Hello! I have a request: How would Wukong and Macaque react if the reader accidentally got stuck inside the scroll of memory and met their "old brotherhood era"-selves?

And a little bonus concept: how would they react if their past-versions tried "adopting" the reader and attempted to keep them inside the scroll?

(I’ve done students and friends, so I thought I’d go with blood children for this fic!)

Sun Wukong’s first move is to panic. However it is that you get trapped in the scroll, he freaks out. The better scenario is that it was just an accident, and you put your hands on something you should’ve known better than to touch. Then he can compose himself properly, with nothing to light the fuse that his nerves have become.

If you were, however, explicitly imprisoned by an enemy, then the old Monkey King comes to visit in more ways one. Wukong attacks your assailant head on, ending the extremely one-sided fight the way he would have in his youth- bloodily and lacking in restraint or mercy. There’s no hesitation, none of his learned compassion, none of the kindly teachings of Tang Sanzang.

All that matters to him right now is that someone touched his kid, and that they’ll die for it. He wishes the manner and method could be more personal, but the important part is getting you back.

Then he can methodically track down every last bit of information about his mangled corpse of a foe, and snuff out anyone else who might be interested in laying a finger on you.

But those plans are for a later day.

Wukong leaves behind a few clones to take care of the corpse and approaches the ink-cursed artifact with a determined glare.

“Dad’s coming, bud. Just hang in there.”

With those few words, he dives into the scroll himself, ready to start rioting through his own past to find you.

He really, really hopes that you don’t see anything too awful. In spite of his modern-day oddities and long-lasting flaws, he really does care about being a good influence and keeping you out of danger. Wukong wants you to see the best of him- learning diligently under Master Subodhi, establishing the sanctuary that is Flower Fruit Mountain, defeating the Demon Bull King. The very best he is and has to offer, to the world and to you.

Instead, he finds you curiously watching in on one of his meeting with the demons he once called his brothers. With that knowledge in mind, maybe they could be called your long-lost uncles.

At least, you seem to think so, or at least think that they can’t be all too dangerous, because you jump down from the tree that you’re standing in to get a closer look at the mixed crew of demons and celestials. The dry leaves beneath your feet loudly crunch and fragment as you step on them immediately giving away your location to the team.

Past!Wukong; ever eager and far more reckless before he had matured in his great journey, is the first to go looking for you, honing in on your location with ease.

The real Wukong watches from a close distance, knowing that his old self wouldn’t try to hurt you. None of the sworn brothers would hurt you- they weren’t bad people. Just severely misguided and well-intentioned. He could wait for an opportune moment to snatch you up and escape. He wanted to rush in, gins blazing… but alerting the Brotherhood was a bad idea. Trying to take on everyone at once wasn’t exactly ideal, especially with you nearby. Even if no one was outright trying to harm you, crossfire was a very real worry.

So the Great Sage reminds himself- no one will hurt you.

Past!Wukong himself, especially. He might’ve been somewhat arrogant and power-hungry and misguided back them, but his intentions were good and he was far from a villain. He knew that.

And, he would never hurt one of his own kind.

The scroll’s version of the Monkey King stops short in shock, staring at you with wide, glittering eyes. Love at first sight, just the way the real one had felt when he held you in his arms, new to the world and bundled tight in a blanket made from strand of his own hair.

The simian’s tail sweeps across the ground, lightly thumping grooves into the dirt- a clear sign that he’s about to pounce. You don’t pick up on that in time, and aren’t prepared for a memory of your father to spring on you with wide-open arms.

Past!Wukong scoops you into his powerful, furry arms, holding you close to his chest as he jumps up and down, nearly squealing in glee. He swings you around a little too fast, nearly losing grip of you during his last rotation. And before you can argue to protest or shake off the newfound nausea plaguing you, he unceremoniously plops you down and starts to groom through your fur, chatting to you hyperactively. His words are fast and energetic, most of them about how he thought he and Macaque were the only mystic monkeys in the world, and how great it is to have another, and how much all of his brothers are going to love meeting you.

Wukong would be waiting for an opening for quite a while, it seemed.

In spite of his caution, he’d grow impatient soon enough. He didn’t want to share you, after all- not even with himself.

Not every parent wants a kid to follow in their footsteps. Macaque intentionally never speaks of his past to you, unless it’s something that will make him look or sound good. You don’t need to hear about him being a doormat to his sworn brothers. You don’t need to hear about him trying to kill a group of innocent pilgrims. And you don’t need to know that; in spite of his fighting prowess and shadow magic, he was killed by the greatest hero the world has ever known.

Macaque knows that you learning these things would shift your perspective of him, perhaps irreparably. He wants you to think of him as your personal hero, as a guardian and defender and as a warrior, capable of taking on and defeating anyone.

So he’s careful to curate the information that reaches your ears. Nothing about beating a holy monk unconscious. Or about manipulating, attacking and trying to kill the Monkey King’s successor. Or his brutal and unprovoked assault on the Dragon Palace of the East Sea.

You aren’t going to turn out like him- Macaque plans on making sure of that. Yes, he’ll teach you his skills. He’ll course you in chain whips and spiked staffs, put you through rigorous training to ensure that you become a master of the shadows as he is.

Macaque cherishes you more than anything else in the world. You may well be the only thing he cherishes at this point. And he understands that he might not always be around to protect you, or that an enemy might come creeping to you while he’s off. He won’t always be by your side, no matter how badly he wants to. So you have to train with him, learn his ways, master his skills. He’ll wrestle you out of bed and into the dojo each day if he has to.

But you aren’t going to be his sidekick or successor, no matter how much you beg or plead. Even if you break down crying about how much you want to help him, or how you worry about him and his safety, he shoots down your offers and attempts. He can’t lose you. He’s lost far too much by now to risk his child’s life.

Macaque understands why you want to help him, he really does.

The two of you had been separated for five hundred years. He had died when you were young, and left you alone in an ever-changing world, forced to grow and survive without him. You had been embittered by the struggle, but never allowed it to break you- you resolved to remain the person you had always been, the person he had taught you to be.

You had wanted to preserve his memory.

Five hundred years later, and you were just as he left you, though a little sour, and perhaps hardened from strife.

But it had been you.

Macaque had tackled you down on sight, bearing down on your form with wide open arms and teary eyes, allowing himself to be vulnerable for once. In return, you had wept into the fur of his chest, tightly clinging and clutching to his frame with arms and legs alike, refusing to be parted from the father you had lost so long ago.

It was supposed to stay like that. And it did, for a while, the two of you content and ready to start healing side by side.

But the Scroll goes and ruins everything, taking you from him as he stands and watches, helpless to save you.

He’s not too unlike Wukong here- his reaction massively differs depending on whether or not you were attacked or simply made a mistake and handled the scroll improperly.

Except he’s far more brutal than his rival ever would be. Wukong; even enraged at you being endangered, has the compassion (and urgency) to finish his foe quickly, settling for a single decisive blow over a hundred slow and torturous attacks.

Macaque’s sable hands do not spare that golden mercy.

He rips the attacker apart piece by piece, the shadows around him thrumming with white-hot rage as they pump out clone after clone. They angrily snag flesh with clawing hands and tear it away, slowly plucking the screaming assailant to the bone.

Allowing his thirst for vengeance to blind him, Macaque stands for a while over the fresh corpse, satisfied and content with the outcome of the fight. He laughs and taunts, kicking the skeleton around for a moment or two.

And a bone rolls right to the scroll that contains you.

The demon snaps into high gear, reminded that you that you’re alone and probably scared in an unfamiliar place, with no way to get back home.

Macaque rips the scroll open, plunging into inky depths before him without a second spared to hesitation. All he leaves in his wake is a single shadowy portal. He’ll create a second inside the scroll, allowing you both to escape unharmed once he finds you.

All that’s left to do is track you down- and he’s sure that he knows where to find you.

Because he spent such a needlessly long time with your attacker, you’ve already been swept up by his scroll counterpart, held in his arms carefully.

Past!Macaque is a gentler, softer version of your father. He’s worried about you, a simian like himself, scared and alone in an unfamiliar place.

You cling back to him, not ready to accept that you were torn from your father once more, just as helpless this time as you were the last. This man isn’t really your father- he’s not real at all. He’s an ancient facsimile, a lingering ebon remembrance of what Macaque once was.

But maybe a little bit of the real deal resonates in this raven replica.

Past!Macaque bears an immediate, intense fondness for you, wrapping you snug in his arms, trying to soothe your frightened tears. He gently pats your back, in the hope that he can console you enough to have a proper talk. For some reason he can’t quite understand, he wants to know more about you.

You only get a few minutes into that talk before your father tracks you both down and smashes the duplicates head open.

Revulsion and nausea turn your stomach in circles as the real Macaque carries you out of the scroll- you might be a little traumatized by what he’s just done, but it’s nothing that he doesn’t have under his control. (It is, actually, but he’s a little too prideful to admit it.)

But all that matters to your father is that he has you back. Aren’t you lucky?

[olderthannetfic]

The question of deleting fics is an interesting one. Ive definitely felt the impulse before, i have LOTS of ficlets and unfinished multi chapter fics that i absolutely despise bc they dont meet my current standards/employ tropes + characterizations that would now be pretty dated or even offensive -- but my parents were the type to tell me to save everything i made, because art was the only thing i was ever passionate about, so i could never muster the will power too.

Nowadays ive decided to lean into the fact that i have so many abandoned accounts -- even if a few have dissapeared for good by now (rip Quotev - that site was So formative in my writing life lmao), i like to imagine that there might be a handful of copies hanging out in a few scattered hard drives around the world, by anyone who did happen to enjoy them. Whether its materially true or not, the notion sits very well with me -- and serves as another reminder of how much of a wonderful thing internet anonymity can be. The chance that my stories, however silly, could be datamined off what will be considered old devices in the future, and will only be connected to some silly username like 'nyanslenderman' or 'tordkin'-- i think its almost heartwarming. Makes those stories stop feeling so cringey in hindsight, just as like.. another teeny tiny part of human history, which ill be a part of whether i want to be or not.

While i try not to /demand/ that people never delete fics or art, i wish people would consider that angle a little more... there's nothing wrong with something you wrote while inexperienced, or in a bad time of your life, being a part of your mark on the world -- especially if its hidden by a username instead of your real name. Its always a treat to see preserved children's schoolwork or passion projects, or an artist's earliest works + practice pieces, from decades to centuries ago -- so why would stuff from our generations be recieved any differently by our own descendants? Why not let it stay, for the chance of being remembered that way?

--

[bluesylveon2]

Can't Help Falling in Love with You

Summary: When Yuu expresses concerns about the future, Malleus shows her just how much he loves her.

Note: royal au (sequel to "A Chance Meeting") fluff, some angst, and oc children mentioned. I'm aware my timeline of these fics are all over the place. It will make sense later on

Warning: not beta read, fem Yuu/reader, making out, and possible ooc characters

Word Count: 948

Masterlist: here, Series Masterlist: here

"Malleus, can we talk privately tonight?"

Those words have been stuck in Malleus' mind all day. 

Why?

They sounded off. 

Malleus knew something was off about his wife's request. She had been acting differently lately, not the one he knew since she became queen. Of course, he cannot forget how she had changed more to accommodate their growing family. 

It was the youngest child's 3rd birthday when Malleus noticed it. As he and his extended family sang to the boy, Malleus caught his wife's face turning sad for one moment and happy the next. 

He did not want to pry about it since it was their child's big day. As Malleus headed to the master bedroom, it was time to address it.

Malleus opened the door to find his wife sitting on the bed, staring at the family portrait hanging across the room. Malleus remembered when that was done. It seemed impossible for him and his wife to wrangle four kids to sit still. Luckily, his retainers were nearby to help out until their own children joined in on the fun. Malleus smiled at the memory. It was one of the best things to happen in his life. 

"Child of Man, you wanted to speak to me?" Malleus asked as he kneeled down on the floor beside his wife. She smiled as he took one of her hands and kissed it.

"Yes, I want to talk to you about something."

"I'm listening."

Yuu opened her mouth but hesitated to say something. Malleus, noticing her distress, rubbed her hand in comfort. 

"Malleus, I want you to promise me something." She stopped again, feeling tears forming in her eyes. It was as if Malleus read her mind, and he immediately joined her in bed and wrapped his arms around her. Yuu hugged him back and rested her head over his heart. 

"Yuu, you do not have to force yourself to tell me. I can wait until you're ready." Malleus ran his fingers through Yuu's hair. 

"I think I can do it now." Yuu took a deep breath and pulled her head away to look at Malleus' green eyes. "I want you to promise me that, when I die, you will find a new queen to marry and help raise the children."

The room was so silent that Yuu was surprised a thunderstorm didn't happen yet. 

"No."

"Malleus-"

Malleus picked up Yuu's left hand and held it up for the both of them to see. The big black diamond (about the size of a pinky nail) and peridots around it sparkled in the moonlight. Malleus felt proud of his ring choice. He thought the gemstone colors with the black band suited his queen as she deserved the best. 

"I put this ring on your finger because I chose you. I wanted you by my side, and I do not see anyone else sitting there."

Yuu still held her stance. "But what about the future? Malleus, I think having someone there would be the best for the kids. They need a mother figure. What if I die when the kids are still young?"

"They have plenty of aunts to see as a maternal figure. My grandmother did not have that luxury, yet she ruled by herself just fine until I was ready. I would do the same for them, too, especially our daughter. She is receiving the best teaching from Lilia." Malleus let go of Yuu's hand and pecked her lips. "But she and our children still need their mother, not someone to replace you." 

Malleus leaned his forehead against Yuu's. "You might see yourself as part of my life, but you are my entire life. Focus on what is happening now instead of later. I will always love you even past death." Malleus kissed Yuu's ring finger. "You are my wife." He kissed her cheek. "My best friend." He ended it with a kiss on her lips. He made sure to pour off of his love into it. "And the best thing that has happened to me. Do not doubt my devotion to you."

Yuu smiled and pulled Malleus back to her. Her lips met his in a passionate dance she knew all too well. Malleus' hands wandered around her body and caressed any exposed skin he could touch, sending shivers down her spine. Yuu pushed Malleus down to lie on the bed. She pulled away, breathing heavily, and stared into Malleus' eyes. She always loved how he looked at her like she was a star in the sky. 

"Have I ever told you I always find a way to fall in love with you every day?" She whispered. 

Malleus smiled and pulled Yuu closer to him. "Yes, you have, my love. You always tell me that."

Yuu smiled before placing one more kiss on Malleus' lips and relaxing. She let her head rest on the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his body. 

"Goodnight, Tsunotarou."

"Goodnight, Child of Man."

Later that night, when Yuu's breathing had steadied, Malleus lay awake staring at her beauty. His heart broke seeing her distressed face earlier. He wanted her to be happy until her last breath. Malleus' finger glowed as he quietly whispered a blessing to his wife. "My Queen, I shall bestow the gift of eternal happiness. If you see the next life, may your soul find happiness forever. May you see your descendants rule the nation with your happiness influencing their hearts."

He pressed his finger against Yuu's heart, causing it to momentarily glow, but not enough to wake her up. Her lips curled up in a smile instead. Malleus finally let his body relax, and his eyes closed.

A/N: I wrote this because of new Book 7 content :) (do not spoil it for me)

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

Do That Again

Summary - You meet a certain fellow after your roommate starts dating some guy.

Content Warnings - Language, heavy drinking, characters getting drunk, underaged drinking (please tell me if I missed anything)

A/N - I wrote this mostly because there are definitely a lack of Cassian x Reader fics out there and as much as I love Cass and Nesta, this felt necessary. *Do not repost my work without my express permission.* *Do not copy my work.*

1k words

✨ 💫

You and Cassian. Cassian and you. Attached at the hip in every sense of the phrase. If someone was looking for one of you, they’d find the other. The only time you weren’t together is if you didn’t have a class together or if one of you was going to the bathroom and even then if one of you was drunk enough… you might be in a close proximity.

You met Cassian through your friend and roommate, Feyre. Feyre, after a shitty high school boyfriend, met Rhysand at a party. Rhys was… well he was something. It was one of those situations where someone falls first and the other falls harder. Feyre fell hard. Like inches of cement hard. You’d be grinning with smug intent while Feyre’s face was absolutely red after getting back from an evening out with Rhys. Somewhere in the madness of first year the two crazy kids finally were official. You ensured you would meet him before summer break. You did. 

As Feyre’s friend, and body-guard , you were of course critical of the man. He certainly had an ego. But below it all he felt right for your friend. He treated her like an individual, a partner—not a possession. The same night you met Cassian at a party. Admittedly you were a little drunk. Okay, you were more than a little drunk. Okay, fine! You were very drunk. Like hookup-with-your-friend drunk. Thankfully he was drunk too, less drunk, but still drunk. Somewhere between the drinks, bad music, and watching Feyre and Rhys be sickeningly smitten with each other you and Cassian found a connection. It was like in kindergarten when your eyes land on any random person in the room and think, you’re cool and we’re friends now. 

You woke up the following morning with a hang-over on a couch to Feyre and Rhys stifling laughter. Your friend informed you it was the suite Rhysand and his friends shared on campus. How a group of first-years got that was beyond you, but you didn’t complain. You were still wearing your clothes and thanked the heavens you saw no vomit either. You managed yourself awake to see Cassian sprawled on the floor. You met Azriel that morning. 

“For the headache,” he said, as he offered you a glass of water and Aspirin. 

The three of you suffered while Feyre and Rhys remained wrapped up in each other all morning. 

The connection with Cassian only grew faster. You kept in contact over the summer, both constantly joking about the disgust you felt for the budding relationship between your friends. In truth you both were happy for Rhys and Feyre. Upon your return for your Sophomore year of university, the friendship solidified itself. You were constantly together. Staying up late to get work done, eating, studying, getting stupid drunk at parties. Despite the humor and jokes, you also found a deep comfort from each other. 

Cassian adored physical contact, which was perfect because you did too. Something you discovered when you woke up on the couch in the suite to your dear friend have a nightmare. 

“Just a nightmare, Cass. Just a nightmare,” you reassured him. He had clung to you, falling back asleep soon after. 

By the end of Sophomore year, you were literally inseparable, constantly draping over the other whenever you hung out as a group. A group you drunkenly named, Rhysand’s IC , because he was constantly parenting the rest of you alongside Feyre. IC standing for Idiot Children . 

One particularly very early morning, around 1am, you and Cass were draped over each other on the couch in the suite. The conversation topic was stupid things you did as children, and Cassian was letting out a particularly loud laugh when a cold-faced looking Az stepped out of his room, asking you to “pipe down”. 

Your junior year, Cassian managed a suite that could fit you and Feyre and you all lived together. Often times the night would end with Feyre and Rhys finding themselves together with you and Cassian sitting together having a drink while you braided Cass’s shoulder-length hair, talking about trivial matters. 

Your final year, Feyre and Rhys chose to live off campus because they wanted a place to themselves leaving you, Cass, and Az to fend for yourselves. Az wound up with a single while you and Cassian chose to share a room to be closer to the center of campus. Azriel was a floor above you. You spent night after together, sitting in the corner of your room, watching a movie together, or talking, or sitting in silence enjoying the other’s company. In hindsight it was crazy how quickly college had gone by. 

Cassian had become your dearest friend through it all. His humor you adored, but it was his caring and passionate nature which had you feeling more deeply for him. And suddenly you were stumbling back from an We’re Almost Graduated party Rhys and Feyre hosted.

✨💫

“There’s a spider on your shoulder!!” You shout as you stumble into your dorm room with Cass. You cackle as Cass squeals, squeezing his eyes shut. 

You step forward to flick the spider off his shoulder and he screams making you laugh and nearly keel over. He catches you before you do, a hand landing on your hip. An electric buzz bolts through you. For all the times you’d been in contact this felt different. Maybe it’s the alcohol, the fact that his hand has never been on your hip before, or the the excitement of graduation. 

“Cass?” You ask him, his hand still resting against your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Y/N?” His question is met with a moment of silence. And then suddenly Cassian’s hands are cupping your cheeks and he’s kissing you. 

Your eyes flutter shut before he’s pulling away. The kiss somehow intoxicating and sobering. There’s a stupid grin on your best friends face. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

He’s met with silence for a while. You are unable to move. Finally you manage words. “Do that again.”

There is a mild question in his eyes. 

“Do that again,” you repeat. 

Cassian doesn’t need to be told a third time.