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parkerslatte · 5 months ago

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Relax For Me

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: smut. wing play. masterbation.

Summary: After Azriel comes home from a long mission, his best friend, Y/N, helps him relax.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N closed the doors to her balcony and drew the curtains. The sun was only just setting but she wanted an early night, ever since she had woken up that morning she only craved to go back to sleep. Y/N yawned as she shuffled to her bedroom and climbed under the cool covers. She smiled as she did so, basking in the feeling of the cold sheets against her warm skin.

The silk pillow was soft beneath her head and Y/N allowed her eyes to close, wanting nothing more than to drift off into that peaceful unconscious state. As she began to feel herself drifting off, there was a quiet knock at her front door. Y/N groaned and pulled the covers closer underneath her chin. If she ignored the noise then it would go away. However, not even a few seconds later, there was another knock and this time it was more urgent.

With a sigh, Y/N pulled the covers from her body and shuffled back through her apartment and to the front door. She frowned as she opened it, prepared to yell at whoever it was to leave. But as the door opened and revealed Azriel standing on the other side, all the irritation drained from Y/N.

“Hi,” Azriel said quietly, offering Y/N a small wave.

“Az,” Y/N said, blinking rapidly. “What are you doing here?”

“I finished my mission early,” Azriel said. “I thought I would come to see you.”

Y/N stepped to the side and allowed Azriel to step into her apartment. “Come in.” Azriel stepped past her and Y/N closed the door, locking it behind her. “I thought I wouldn’t see you for at least another few days. Did the rundown with Rhys go quickly?” Y/N continued as she watched Az slump in a chair in the corner of the room.

“I haven’t been to Rhys yet,” Azriel admitted. “I came straight here.”

Y/N finally looked at what he was wearing and frowned. He was still wearing clothes covered in dirt and grime, his wings weren’t much better as they were too covered in mud and other things Y/N couldn’t recognise.

“I missed you,” Azriel said, offering Y/N a small lopsided grin.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile back, she had always loved that specific smile of Azriel’s. “I missed you too.” Y/N stepped closer to him and took his hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze. “I would hug you but I don’t want to get mud on my pyjamas. Do you want me to run you a bath?”

Azriel looked down at Y/N’s attire. “Were you about to go to sleep?”

Y/N nodded. “I was, until you came knocking on my door. I am not complaining though.

Azriel reluctantly let go of Y/N’s hand. “I should let you get back to sleep. I will just go straight to Rhys.”

“No, Az,” Y/N said. “You look like you are about to fall asleep if you stand up. Let me run you a bath and get some clean clothes out for you.”

“I won’t say no if you were to do that,” Azriel said.

Y/N smiled. She bent down lightly and kissed his cheek. “I’ll even let you use all of my fancy soaps.”

“I must look like I’m about to drop dead if you are letting me use those. You nearly took my hand off the last time I went to use those,” Azriel jokes.

“You exaggerate,” Y/N replied. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Leaving Azriel in the living room, Y/N entered her bathroom and began to run a bath for Azriel. She placed a brand new bar of her soap in the small dish next to the basin and poured a modest amount of bubbles into it. Azriel would always say that he hated the bubbles but Y/N knew that she loved them. Y/N let the bath fill up and walked out of the bathroom.

“The bath is currently filling up,” Y/N said to Azriel. “You can get undressed in the bathroom. If you leave your clothes outside, I can get a start on washing them for you.”

“Y/N, you don’t need to do that,” Azriel said. “I can do it back at my own apartment.”

“Az, I insist,” Y/N replied. “You look exhausted and all I want to do right now is make sure you have a nice relaxing night. I have some of your clothes here, I’ll leave them just outside of the bathroom.”

Azriel stood from the chair and reached out to Y/N, gently caressing her hand. “What would I ever do without you?”

“I’m unsure as we have been friends for centuries and there is not a moment I can think of off the top of my head where I haven’t been by your side, of course except when you go on missions,” Y/N said.

Azriel rolled his eyes and walked away to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. Y/N let out a small breath before settling down on the couch.

***

It wasn’t long before Y/N was interrupted from what she was doing by Azriel calling out her name. From the other side of the door she could still hear the sound of him in the water so she was unsure why she was being called.

“Az?” Y/N spoke through the door. “What’s wrong?”

There was a hesitant pause before Azriel spoke again. “Can you come in here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Please,” Azriel asked. “It’s easier to explain that way. The bubbles are covering everything, don’t worry.”

Y/N slowly opened the door and gasped at the sight. The whole side of Azriel’s rib cage was bruised and a small gash was in the centre of it. “Az, what happened?” Y/N rushed over to him.

“It was just something that happened a couple of days ago, it is healing but quite slowly,” Azriel explained.

“You must have broken a rib or two,” Y/N examined the injury. “Or three.”

“I know,” Azriel said, sitting up a bit further in the bath. Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes drift slightly but once she realised what she was doing, she snapped them back to Azriel, who luckily didn’t notice her brief distraction.

“What do you need me for?” Y/N asked.

A small blush coated Azriel’s cheeks. “It’s embarrassing to ask now you are here.”

Y/N smiled at him. “Go on, it can’t be that bad.”

“I need you to clean my wings,” Azriel replied, his blush deepening. “I’ve managed to do the bottom of them but I can’t reach the top without this stupid injury causing me pain.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, avoiding looking at Azriel directly.

“Forget it,” Azriel said. “It was stupid of me to ask.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Y/N said, fighting the urge to brush the wet strands of hair away from his forehead. “It’s just…you don’t ever let anyone touch your wings.”

“I trust you.” The comment came tumbling out of Azriel’s mouth quickly.

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “Yes, well you don’t need to do it if you don’t wish to. I’m sure I can manage.”

“I will do it for you, Az,” Y/N said.

Azriel didn’t respond, not even when Y/N reached for the small washcloth beside him. He continued to stare straight ahead at the shutters and did not move as Y/N gathered supplies.

“Lavender or lemon?” Y/N asked.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“For the oil,” Y/N clarified. “Lavender or lemon?”

“Um, lavender,” Azriel said.

Y/N smiled softly. “Excellent choice.”

Azriel barely nodded as he fixated his eyes ahead once more. The moment Y/N placed the wash cloth against his wing, Azriel immediately flinched away, splashing water at Y/N in the process.

“Sorry,” Azriel mumbled.

Y/N placed the washcloth back onto his wing. This time Azriel did not flinch away but he was tense. Y/N continued to wipe away the grime until she threw the washcloth down onto the floor. Y/N could see all of the tension in Azriel’s body. She leant forward between his wings and draped her body on his.

“What are you doing?” Azriel asked.

“Just relax for me, Azriel,” Y/N whispered into his ear causing Azriel to shudder.

“I’m finding it quite difficult,” Azriel replied.

“Do you trust me?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I do,” Azriel said. “That's why I asked you to do this.”

“Then why are you still so tense?” Y/N asked.

“Because I know that if I relax too much, then…”

Y/N’s eyes briefly glanced down to where the bubbled obstructed Azriel’s lower half and everything clicked together. She always knew that his wings were sensitive but never realised that he could become so pent up just from her washing them.

“I see,” Y/N muttered.

“You should just leave,” Azriel said.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Azriel’s shoulders. “And why should I do that?”

“Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Azriel muttered, his hands now caressing her arms.

“You won’t make me uncomfortable, Azriel,” Y/N said, her lips grazing his ear. “All you need to do is relax for me. Whatever happens, happens.”

Azriel slowly moved his head to face her and her eyes flicked down to his lips for a brief moment. She wanted to know how it felt to have his lips pressed against hers.

“Whatever happens, happens,” Azriel repeated, his eyes flicking down to her lips. Unlike Y/N, Azriel didn’t try to hide it.

Y/N pulled away and picked up a fresh washcloth and began to wipe off the grime from his wings. Azriel flinched for a moment before relaxing against the bath, allowing Y/N to wipe all the dirt from his wings. A content sigh left his lips as she did so.

Once all of the grime was gone, Y/N looked at Azriel and did not find one trace of rigidness within his body. “I’m going to use the oil now, if that’s okay with you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Azriel responded.

Y/N poured a generous amount of the oil onto her hands, the aroma filling the room. Y/N rubbed it into her hands and slowly reached towards his wings. She had never touched them before but she had always wondered what they felt like. She was pleasantly shocked to find them quite soft and smooth. The occasional small scar changed the texture, but they were nothing like Y/N imagined them feeling.

Azriel’s breathing changed as Y/N continued her movements on his wings, spreading the oil across them. He took heavier breaths and Y/N could already begin to smell the scent of his arousal cutting through the lavender.

Y/N could tell that she had hit a particular sensitive part on his wing as Azriel gripped the side of the bathtub tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“You can leave if you want to, Y/N,” Azriel said, his voice slightly breathless.

“Whatever happens, happens,” Y/N responded. Despite her not receiving the pleasure Azriel was, her voice was breathless too. The blissed out look on Azriel’s face was one she wanted to see more often.

The sensitive part of his wing proved to be a place where Azriel liked to be touched as a soft moan slipped through his lips. “Y/N…”

“Yes?” She asked.

“Please,” Azriel said, his hips twitched under the water, “don’t stop.”

Y/N leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his wing. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

As she massaged the oil into his wings, Y/N continued to pull sweet groans from the shadowsinger. If Y/N was being completely honest, the sound was music to her ears. She had always been somewhat attracted to Azriel but it was only recently where she had begun to question her attraction to him even more and she was sure that her feelings toward him weren’t completely platonic. He was the most beautiful male she had ever seen and even more beautiful now as he cried out in pleasure. Pleasure that she was causing him all because he trusted her.

“Fuck,” Azriel grunted, hips bucking in the water.

“Do you want me to stop?” Y/N teased.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel said.

Y/N smirked before draping herself across his back once more, her hand continuing their movements on his wing. Azriel pants were even more beautiful to listen to in her ear as she pressed soft kisses against his neck and shoulder.

“Y/N,” Azriel groaned. “If you don’t stop doing that, I will come right here on the spot.”

“Am I just that attractive?” The question was aimed to simply tease Azriel, it was not meant to be taken seriously at all.

“Yes, you are,” Azriel admitted. “You drive me crazy whenever you walk into a room. Do you know how hard it is to not greet you with a kiss whenever I see you? You are the most beautiful female I have ever seen and you have no idea how long I have wanted to say these words.”

Y/N stopped the movements on his wing. “Do you really mean that, Az?”

“Of course I mean it!” He exclaimed. “And we will talk about it after, but right now if you don’t move your damn hand Y/N, I am sure I will simply die in this bath tub.”

Y/N pressed a kiss against his neck. “Always so dramatic.”

Azriel didn’t respond. His only reaction to her words was a series of loud moans, now not afraid to conceal them. “Y/N, I am so close, my love.”

“Touch yourself,” Y/N whispered.

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice as he released his grip from the side of the bath and wrapped a hand around his cock and began to pump it up and down fast. The sounds came tumbling out of his mouth and Y/N did not want to silence them but she couldn’t help herself as she placed her lips over his. They were soft and fit perfectly against hers.

With his other hand, Azriel reached for her and laced his fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss. Y/N only pulled away for a brief moment. “Come for me, my love.”

With only a few more pumps of his cock and an added pressure on the sensitive parts of his wings, Azriel came panting against Y/N’s mouth. He pressed his lips against hers, craving the feeling once more. Y/N held onto him tightly until his high was over.

Azriel slumped against the bath and further into Y/N’s arms. He slowly caught his breath back and opened his eyes.

Y/N smiled at him. “Hi.”

Azriel smiled back. “Hi.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “As much as I don’t want to leave you right now, I think you should finish up here and meet me in the bedroom because we certainly have a few things to discuss.”

“I think so too,” Azriel muttered.

Y/N pulled away from him, despite her not wanting to at all. Her pyjamas were soaked through but she did not care as she walked to the bathroom door. “There are some clothes just outside for you.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Azriel said.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” Y/N said before leaving the bathroom.

With a bright smile on her face, she walked down the short hall to her bedroom. She changed into a new, fresh set of pyjamas and waited for Azriel. It did not take long at all for the bathroom door to open and for footsteps to pad down the hall. The bedroom door was opened and Azriel stood in the doorway. He seemed to quickly dry off his hair as it was sticking up in every direction but Y/N only thought it made him look adorable.

“I love you,” Azriel said suddenly.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Az–”

“I know that this is sudden and I promise that it is not just because you gave me a great orgasm in a bathtub, but I love you. I am in love with you and I have been for a long time,” he admits.

Y/N patted the bed next to her and Azriel walked over and slid under the covers, facing Y/N. “You love me?”

“I do,” Azriel said, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I know I am not good at voicing my feelings and all of this seems so sudden but I need to tell you. We can’t pretend what just happened in the bathroom didn’t just happen and continue with our friendship like normal. I love you, Y/N. If you don’t feel the same way, I understand but I cannot go another day without telling you.”

“Az,” Y/N said, her eyes full of love. “I love you too.”

“You do?” Azriel asked, somewhat shyly.

“Of course I do,” Y/N said. “I thought I only loved you as a friend. But recently I began to notice that friends don’t normally imagine what their friends' lips feel like against theirs. Friends don’t realise that they have always had an attraction to thief friends and find them absolutely breathtaking.” Azriel blushed. “Friends don’t act like a couple. Let’s face it Azriel, we have been acting like a couple for years, minus the kissing.”

Azriel let out a quiet laugh. “I know.”

Y/N smiled before letting out a yawn. “Now as much as I want to continue this conversation, why don’t we go to sleep.”

Azriel smirked before pressing his lips against her jaw. “I thought I could repay you for what you did for me in the bathroom.”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel’s kissed and gently held his face between her hands. “Azriel, as much as I love you, and it feels so good to say that, I was trying to sleep before you arrived here. And if I’m being honest I would rather get a great night sleep with your arms wrapped around me than an earth shattering orgasm right now. Perhaps that can wait until tomorrow. But right now, all I want is to fall asleep in the arms of my love.”

Azriel smiled and pressed a sweet kiss against her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N said, nuzzling her head into his chest.

Underneath the scent of the soaps Y/N had leant him, she could still smell the familiar scent of Azriel and with that she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel smut #acotar

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riyasensp · 2 years ago

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18 Beautiful Corner Wash Basin Designs for Your Bathroom

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 4 months ago

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Cold-hearted wolf

Masterlist

Pairing: Cregan Stark × Martell reader

Tags: NSFW, arranged marriage, cregan starts out mean in this, enemies to lovers cus he's grumpy and has no time for feelings,

Chapter 4 - He finally reunites with you after months of war. Don't try this at home. Possible misuse of the wod "tenfold." Cheers ;)

The Stark bannermen arrived at Winterfell to happy cheers. A whirlwind of emotions swirled in Cegan's thoughts as he dismounted his steed and headed into the castle in determination to find you.

After reuniting with his half-sister, he was given knowledge that the training room was where you had apparently been spending most of your time when you weren't accepting audience with the common folk.

He pushed open the training room doors, armor clinking as he moved. His heart raced as he laid eyes on you, clad in a set of sparring leathers; breaches that hugged your legs, tucked into knee high boots, and a wrap of the same material around your torso and chest, leaving your shoulders and arms bare for mobility.

His brow furrowed. Some of the marks along your arms were new. Your hair was longer, and you grew in height. Your features matured during his time away. You looked beautiful. You always had, but there had been a warm naivety to your look that was now transformed into a cold beauty.

Oblivious to Cregan's presence, you were presently clashing sword to sword with your personal guard, ser Alek.

Cregan smirked, taking in your form in the tight clothes. War was a lonely ordeal, and this wasn't a bad view to come home to.

After a swift jab that you expertly deflected, your sparring partner stopped moving, looking over your shoulder. Lowering your blade, you followed his gaze and came to a halt.

Cregan stood across from you, covered in new wounds and bearing the marks of battle. His presence commanding. His stubble and the dark circles under his grey eyes were a stark contrast to the man you had last seen months back.

As he approached you, you couldn't help but notice the gravity in his gaze when it traveled across your body. There was an intensity in his eyes, a deep seriousness that sent shivers down your spine.

Gathering yourself, you curtseyed and cleared your throat. "Cr- my lord. Welcome home!"

Cregan gestured to your sparring partner, "Leave us," dismissing the knight with a single command. He then ordered, "Ensure that no one enters this room."

“My lord,” the knight bowed his head before heading out the door.

The room was now empty, leaving you alone with your husband. The tension was palpable, and your heart raced. Cregan turned his back to you and placed his sword against a wall, then began to unclasp his armor, discarding the shirt beneath it beneath as well. His back and arms have sharpened with muscle since you parted and were now painted with fresh bruises and marks.

“You didn't wish to welcome me, wife?” He asked, still facing away from you.

"I did." You swallowed. “But you have not returned my letters. I wasn't sure if you were cross with me...”

He faced you again and strode to the wash basin in the corner of the room, dipping his hands in the cold water and running them over his body to scrub off dried blood and dirt.

You let out a gasp when you saw the massive scar ranging from the top of his neck down to his lower abdomen. It was stitched up. Recently. You instinctively walked up to him, but remembering their last encounter, you stopped.

Cregan's eyes roamed over you, taking in your sparring leathers. You raised your chin defiantly, preparing to hear to more scrutiny of your cultural wardrobe. “I see you've kept yourself busy.” He muttered, eyeing the door behind which stood ser Alek.

You exhaled sharply, detesting the implication of his words. Summoning your patience, you replied coolly, "You must be tired from your travels. Shall I summon a maester?” You made way for the door.

"No, stay," He said firmly, his voice commanding and filled with an intensity that you were used to seeing from him by now.

“I see your displeasure with me outlasted our time apart.” You murmured, unable to help yourself.

He chuckled, and you got a strange sense that the joke was on you. Your patience was wearing thin, and you couldn't hold back your frustration any longer.

You exhaled sharply. "My parents lied when they told me about our engagement."

"Lied?"

“Yes.” You insisted, raising your chin defiantly. “I didn't need to be told you'd be a great ruler. There was enough talk throughout the realm of the young warrior, Cregan Stark." You rolled your eyes. "But they promised I would have love. And you know nothing of the word."

"Oh?" He raised a brow, feigning curiosity. "By all means, go on."

You did. "A strong marriage should be built on love, passion, and friendship-"

Cregan laughed harshly. His eyes burning with an intensity that took you by surprise. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. "Love has no place in a marriage of alliance, princess. Passion doesn't mix well with duty..."

His grey eyes held yours as he made steps towards you, backing you up until your back hit a wall. "As for friendship… I'm afraid I fall short on that front too. Forgive me, but I don't wish to be your friend.” He sneered at the last word.

Your breath quickened, searching his eyes for the meaning of his words. Why was he so cruel? What have you ever done to him? The room spun as Cregan closed the distance between himself and you.

“Can't you pretend, then?” You let out the words between and gasp and a sob. “For the sake of duty, tell me that you missed me. That you missed your wife!” You begged, eyes glistening with tears as you looked up at him.

His lips were on yours before you could say another word. His bare arms circling around your back to pull you roughly against him, grasping at the you wore. His bare skin was hot against yours, and the sensory overload had you struggling to breathe. Tremors followed wherever his scarred, calloused fingers touched your skin.

His kiss was heavy with emotion. Everything he wanted to say to you for the past months was in that kiss. Not letting you part for a moment, his hands held you tightly against his hard frame.

Growing light-headed, you pulled away to take in some much needed oxygen.

The action had him glaring at you. “You dare pull away from me?”

“I was short of breath!” You rushed to explain, still trying to gain control of your speeding heart.

His icy stare cracked with a small quirk of his lips. He enveloped your lips in another hungry kiss, distracting you as his hands unfastened the ties of your breaches, reaching in to slide his fingers against your folds.

You whined, arching into him. The movement lowered the material wrapped around your chest, exposing your breasts.

You couldn't believe it. Here you were, a princess of Dorne, half clad and held against the wall of a training room by the Lord of Winterfell as he trailed vicious bites and kisses down your breasts while his fingers played with you.

Cregan dove in without hesitation, biting one nipple hungirly. You jumped as the mix of pain and pleasure. Your nipples were already sensitive from the cold of the room. His scorching tongue only added fuel to the fire, his stubble leaving scratches on your skin. Cregan's gaze focused on you, enjoying the display in front of him as you offered your body like a gift.

He switched to your other nipple, as his fingers began to apply pressure to your clit. He looked at you with adoration as he wispered. "I missed you, princess. Fuck, have I missed you..."

Your heart swelled with his confession as you moved against his fingers. Strands of hair fell apart from your braid, sticking your forehead, while your lips, red, swollen, and glistening from his kisses, framed every moan, whimper, and whine you made. You looked absolutely spent, and he hasn't even done anything yet.

When he and his friends first visited the brothel, the women acted shy and timid outside of the bedroom, but in it, they were experienced, confident. You were the opposite, he noted, carrying yourself with such dignity even back when he first met you. But right now, his hot-tempered little wife was blushing, falling apart at his words, tongue, and fingers. Gods, he needed to see you like this every day from now on.

He lowered to his knees, opening your breaches to take slow licks up your slit. He inserted a finger into your cunt. Feeling how drenched you were, he groaned against you, the vibrations travelling across your skin, making you shudder.

His smile grew with each wimper you let out as he sucked on your clit, tilting his head from side to side, changing angles to find the right one. Your wimpers picked up. You would have been surprised if the staff walking outside the room didn't know exactly what was happening behind the doors.

Cregan inserted another finger into you, his thumb pressing circles on your clit.

“Cregan!” You moaned, struggling to speak. “Please, im- oh!”

“You're what, princess?” You heard the wicked grin in his question. Seeing your hips move up and down against him, chasing that intense feeling, summoned a wave of pride in him. Curving his fingers inside you, he searched for that specific spot he knew you always cried for. A sudden squeal from you confirmed his successful exploration, and he ran his fingers over the bundle of nerves again and again.

Your hands grasped at the wall behind you, shuddering to the movements of his tongue and fingers. He licked your clit through your orgasm until you shook though the last of it.

Getting up, he kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue in to let you taste herself. You whined against him, your body curling into istelf as the last aftershocks of your orgasm subsided. He was holding you up, stopping you from completely collapsing on the floor.

You don't recall when he had lowered his breaches or lined your bodies up so that the tip of his cock would be at your entrance. Panic filled your mind at the danger he was putting himself in. “Cregan, your stitches!”

“I dont care. I need to feel you.” He growled, lifting you up with ease, strong arms wrapping your legs around his torso. Lowering to kiss you again, Cregan slowly pushed into you. He groaned into the kiss, pulling away to savor the view.

His wife looked so fragile like this, blinking up at him like he was a god among men, unable to catch her breath, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He slowly began to move in and out of you, echoing your earlier words back at you. “Tell your husband you missed him, y/n."

“I missed you, s-so much!” You whimpered, happy to finally experience the sensation you had longed for for the past five months. To feel full. Whole again. You hurt on those lonely nights while he was away, fighting for your kingdom. Fighting for your people. Fighting for you.

“I love you, Cregan.” You didn't care that this was a marriage of convenience to him, that duty and passion didn't mix. It was how you felt, and you wanted him to know.

He groaned against your throat, making you shiver. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated.

“Again, darling.”

“I love you!”

He held you possessively biting his lip as he watched you meet his every thrust. “I love you too, princess.”

“I love you.” Your voice broke as you felt the warm feeling coming closer and closer. “Please don't stop,”

His movements sped up and he groaned against you. You held tight when he thrust harshly against you, both of you gasping as you reached completion.

With one hand still holding you up, he leaned the other to prop himself up against the wall behind you. You held on to him as tightly as you could, mumbling. “Don't let go, don't let me go.”

“Shh, princess.” He kissed your eyes, your cheeks, and your lips. “I'm right here. I have you.”

You couldn't stay conscious if you wanted to, a powerful wave of exhaustion had you blinking In and out of sleep.

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

You woke up the next day snuggled against him in your bed of furs. He had washed himself clean, muscular arms wrapped around you covered in washed and healing scars. His face looked nearly peaceful if it wasn't for the worried crease between his dark brows.

You carefully brought your finger to the scar etching across his chest. Your hand shook as you thought of how close he was to death, had the weapon hit a mere inch lower. You planted a kiss on the wound, thanking the gods he came back home to you.

“It isn't so bad,” his voice raspy from sleep, spoke above you as his hand came to cradle the back of your head. “I fed him to my sword tenfold.”

You smiled, gently resting your head on his chest, taking in his scent. You missed it so much. “I only care that you came back to me.”

The sounds of the palace staff beginning their day's work behind the doors reminded you that you needed to get up to attend to your responsibilities. When you began to sit up, he pulled you back down, turning the two of you so that you were flat on your back with him resting on his elbows above you. He leaned down and kissed you gently. “I was a fool to dismiss you.”

“You were”

His shoulders shook with laughter, as he trailed kisses around your face and neck, his lips tickling your skin. “Your plan saved many of our men.”

“Our plan.” You said, sighing against his kisses.

“Your idea.” He insisted, nipping your collarbone, telling you not to argue.

It was your turn to laugh. “Very well then.”

You saw movements at the foot of the bed, and Cregan's dog jumped up to you, eagerl licking your face.

“Grey!” You smiled at the dog, who was panting with his tongue out, nuzzling against you. “How I missed you, my furry friend.”

You heard a muffled groan and something that sounded like "attention theif" behind you as Cregan untangled himself and walked over to slip on his robe. You watched in awe before clearing your throat, remembering something important. "Busy day today for you."

"Is that so?" He hummed, coming to lean on his hands against the bed, his face inches from yours as he whispered. “And what do I have planned?”

“You're to meet with a delegation from the Eyrie.” You supplied, reminding him that you worked as the Lady of the house while he was away, conducting business on his behalf. “There is business regarding crop shortages you need to address.”

His brow creased, and you hand shot up to brush it until the frown was gone. “Infighting?” He murmured,

You nodded.

“In the riverlands?”

“Aye, there's tension in the south.”

"Kings Landing?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips before getting up. Muttering "Always something with that fucking family," under his breath.

You grinned at his annoyed expression, "Duty awaits, lord Stark." You turned back to the dog, petting him. "We can stay here, right Grey?"

"Oh, think again, lady Stark." Cregan took your hand and pulled you from the bed and against him with ease. You squeaked and rushed to grab a pelt to cover yourself as Grey stirred and jumped from the bed as well.

Cregan drew you against him. “What time is the meeting with the delegation?"

"In the late morning." You looked up at him. "Soon,"

He gave you his signature wolfish grin and raised his brow. "Then you better get ready."

@malfoycassimalfoy @leahnicole1219 @literishdegree99 @sardynes @magicseahorse @nsr-15 @littlebirdgot @ginarely-blog

#cregan stark x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark #cregan fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #smut #cregan stark smut

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 28 days ago

Text

Our Throne of Ruin

Chapter One: Blood-Stained Hand of a Royal

Plus-size/Chubby afab! fem! Princess!Reader x Villain!Simon

Warnings and Disclaimers: Violence, Assault, and Attempted Sexual Assault?? (Not by Simon, it is disgusting and uncomfortable so please do not continue if you have a faint heart), Gore, Severed Body Parts, Decapitation.

Genres: Romance, x Reader Insert, Alternate Universe, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU, Villain AU, Arranged Marriage, Dark Romance??

Throne Of Blood and Ruin Playlist <3

My CoD Masterlist and Series Masterlist <3

If you prefer to read it in Wattpad's format (Please leave comments) <3

Next Chapter

"My lady, these appear to be exceedingly valuable," Leticia, your young handmaiden, exclaimed breathlessly as she held up the ruby-encrusted silver earrings against your ears to see how they would look on you.

"I'm certain the lord who dispatched it desires a royal womb for their heirs," you said with a scoff, rolling your eyes, as you favored jewelry received as genuine gifts over bribes.

Leticia offered a simple smile, setting aside the jewelry she held into the untouched box, and instead, she searched for the ones you favored most… gold, diamonds, and pearls.

Earrings that match the pearls and gold details on the bodice of your dress perfectly, complemented by a crown crafted from the same materials as the jewels dangling from your ears.

Your senior handmaiden, Agatha, attempted to kneel and place your walking jewelry on your feet.

"Agatha! What are you doing?" you exclaimed, though the answer was clear to you. Before she could reply, you interjected, "No, please. I appreciate your willingness to serve, but don't kneel; it could injure you."

With a sigh, you stood from your vanity seat and helped her to her feet. She responded with a smile brimming with thankfulness.

"As kind and caring as ever, Your Highness," she said, lifting the small basin filled with rosewater to wash your hands, then gently wiping them with a white cloth dampened in the scented water.

The gods are aware that the woman has aged gracefully, yet there's concern she may injure herself with the relentless demanding tasks handmaidens endure. You slip on your shoes while Leticia unravels your hair from the curling cloths.

"What would you like done with your hair, my lady?"

"Pearls, Leticia…" you murmured, gazing into the mirror.

Once your handmaidens had finished preparing you, Leticia suggested a leisurely walk. She knew you might use this as the perfect opportunity to have an encounter with those vying for affection.

With a light melody on your lips, you wandered the castle's ramparts with an air of freedom.

You turn to a corner to find a man, only you could assume was a contender as well. Dressed in whatever garb their nation was to consider fashion, he had two knights along either side of him. The way he held himself, you could already tell. How arrogant.

You walked past him without much care to greet him, a test to see how he'd take rejection. He commands his knights to leave him be, striding next to you.

"I must admit I wasn't expecting to be graced with your presence so soon." He said you didn't respond verbally. Instead choosing to raise a brow at his statement, clearly not realizing that he's talking to you far too casually for your liking.

He scoffs, trying to wrap his arm around your shoulder to which you shrugged his hand off. "You reek of ale and brothels" you whispered to yourself as you subtly waved off the smell of his breath from your face.

You felt an almost cracking pain on your wrist as you were yanked back, your eyes widened, he had heard you.

You tried to free yourself but instead, he pulled the clasp and chain of your necklace, effectively choking you with the decorative metal against your skin. You pried your hands between it and your neck, desperately trying to claw his grip off.

The pain was unlike anything you had ever experienced, burning intensely. Your breaths were shallow and frantic. Tears welled up uncontrollably, spilling over.

It felt as though the muffled choking sounds were yours alone as your body convulsed. Your windpipe seemed to be caving under an unyielding grip, with every attempt to breathe met by an impenetrable barrier.

A wet, sloppy tongue dragged across your cheek, leaving a slimy trail that made your skin crawl. The unexpected touch was cold and clammy, like the lick of a serpent, and the stench of sour mixed with the pungent smell of fermented bitterness in his breath lingered in the air.

Your stomach churned with disgust as your body flinched away from his chest which he forcibly pressed against your back. Disgusting bastard, his chuckling fueled your nerves with more anger and fear.

"Pretty, defenseless little princess.." You attempted to protest, but it emerged as nothing more than a feeble whimper.

Someone, help me. Please...

You prayed for the air, for someone...

It wasn't until he was yanked away that you heard a thud, and you began to violently cough, the pressure on your throat finally easing. Collapsing to your knees, you groaned from the sudden pain, crawling away before turning to see what had transpired.

The man who just attempted to assault you on the ground and unconscious as an unrecognizable but broad figure retreated to the shadows out of the corner of your eye, just observing.

All your life, you've felt like s prey to the disgusting eyes of men older than your father, this wasn't new.

"My lady!" The scream of your handmaiden, Leticia, echoed as she rounded the corner in search of you. Panic etched her features, tears brimming at the sight of the redness on your neck.

You deemed it unwise to inform your king of the incident, especially since he was the one attempting to auction you off to a man who fancied himself a god among men.

You dusted your gown off as you instructed Leticia to ask for a tonic at the castle's apothecary, your throat nearly giving out at the soreness.

You had opted to seek solace at your place of worship before continuing through the not-so-exciting festivities your father arranged, despite your attempts to distract yourself, you cannot shake off the feeling of being watched.

Something waiting to pounce at you from within the shadows..

Prayer beads, it wasn't in your pockets.

You continue to pat around your body. "My lady, you seem troubled. Is something amiss?" Leticia asked, concern never leaving her tone since the events that transpired.

"My prayer beads, I must've misplaced or dropped them earlier," You mumbled.

"Oh.." was all she could respond, she knew how cherished that item was to you, being passed down from your mother.

"I'll make sure to find them later on, I swear that on my own mother," she lifted her palm, and a small smile broke from your lips at the promise.

You get up from your knees to set the candle you've lit down on the foot of the monument of the goddess of marriage and fertility, payers inclined to help you find a husband, unlike your father. Hoping your mother will also hear your prayers in the afterlife.

"Leticia, my shawl please" You sighed. She slipped the thin fabric over your exposed shoulders and replaced your colored veil with your earlier embellishments.

...

You composed yourself as well as possible, attempting to breathe steadily and keep your eyes open to avoid flashes of the experience from just a few hours before by picking the skin next to your nails.

Gripping your aching neck, you felt the imprints of the recent assault. As your gaze shifted to the entrance, the massive doors groaned, pushed open by the servants outside.

From the comfort of your cushioned throne, you surveyed the assembly, noting how the sound redirected their attention to the entrance, just as your eyes had done moments before.

The usual commotion and conversation that overlapped one another at such an event died out faster than poison could kill a rat, all sounds replaced by the clanking of metal... most can recognize the hollow sound of armor and the sharp end of a sword scratching the stone floor.

There a familiar broad man stood. You can't quite put your finger on it, but his face is like something out of your dreams, masked with a knight's great helm.

The silence was defending as he left the people speechless or much rather afraid to speak of anything, covered in blood and some flesh stood a stranger.

He made his way in, the crowds of nobles making a path for him as he did. The carpet beneath him somehow cushioning his heavily metal-cladded steps.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the stranger as he got closer, only now seeing what he had by his side while he hastily threw his great helm on the ground to pay his respect in court.

The severed head of the noble who tried to lay a hand on you, holding it by the fistful of hair as the blood from the neck stained the fur carpet below it.

You hear the king beside you as he chokes. He could not control his breathing, seeming to be on the verge of a heart attack.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU INSOLENT BASTARD, YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!" One of the nobles in the crowd screamed with much anger, must be his father or a figure of some sort.

The man attempts to lunge at the man in armor but is held back by three of the palace knights. Loud clanking as the lord hit the armored men over and over.

Oddly enough, you weren't terrified after the initial shock. The man that stood before you severed the head of the same man who tried to commit an unforgivable act on you, it was almost poetic in its own way... satisfying even.

He knelt before you instead of your father, much to your surprise. Gasps and murmurs emulated from the nobles and royals present, apart from the screaming guardian of the beheaded suitor.

He had no respect for the head he held as he threw it on the side, having it roll to the king's feet who had no words of offense as he was too shocked to utter anything but silent stuttering.

On one knee the man with blood-soaked presumably light hair remained, his head down, eyes still on the floor. You stood up from your throne, head held high as you walked towards the armored fellow.

The intricate precious metal encrusted with priceless jewels hung on your ears and swayed along with the ones in your hair. The train of your silk gown flows effortlessly behind you.

Your eyes on him at every step, he lifted his gaze from down below onto you, his hand shifting. Uncertain of what to anticipate, you watched as he extended his hand toward you, palm open, the callouses on his fingers beckoning you closer.

You care not for the blood that stained his hand and caked under his nails, so you hesitantly slipped your fingers in his, heart pounding out of your chest as the stranger bathed in blood grinned at seeing your hand in his.

He gripped your hand in the most gentle way you've ever had anyone touch you. He lightly tugged on your arm and let you naturally step closer with his guidance as he brought the back of your hand up to his lips.

You felt his dry yet warm lips on your knuckles, eyes up on you as he looked for approval. You blinked, and for a moment your eyes drifted to the severed head.. its own open but soulless before you reverted your gaze back to the man who has your hand.

With another kiss on your ring, he releases your hand. You gaze at it, noticing how the blood has stained it in an effortlessly abstract pattern.

Breathlessly staring at your hand, now tainted with the filthy blood of one of the bastards who hurt and wronged you. Staring back at you, presenting an opportunity on a silver platter, all just for you...

A/n: I know this series will come more likely with backlash because of the reader's body description being so specific, the gore, and just the general dark fantasy aspect however I find it difficult to write for something I cannot insert myself in as it is where I build my ideas from. I know that the listed warnings are quite dark, but I am new to writing dark fantasy, I know that dark romance is very controversial, but I don't know if this counts as one of them. This is a very long one, and I hope you all enjoy it. Also new dividers from @/cafekitsune, as always 👀

Note: Comment to be in the taglist.

Series Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @drewsmuse @sommii @sleep101 @blueladys-world @myspaceisra

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luveline · 1 year ago

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you start to second guess your relationship when eddie doesn't waylay you with his usual abundance of kisses after work. meanwhile, eddie tries to work out what's upsetting you, how to fix it, and most urgently, how to ask you a super important question. fem!reader, 5k

cw: eddie skipping meals at work, suggestive flirting

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

Eddie's borrowed headphones slip down your head as you dance. Nothing dramatic, a shoulder wiggle as you do the dishes. You can't hear the racket you're making, plates crashing into one another on the drying rack, the hot water pounding the basin, the clip of your sock-clad foot against wooden slats as you tap it.

Your hands burn at the high temperature. Your fingertips are pruned, palms chapped as you finish washing Eddie's mountain of dishes. His whole apartment was in similar disarray before you arrived, laundry to the eyes and one of his haphazard book towers collapsed in the bedroom. The dishes had been scraped and rinsed but not washed, the laundry designated to one corner of the bathroom; Eddie's not unclean, necessarily, but unfocused.

You had time. You don't mind coming over to help him out.

Though if he knew you were here doing this he'd blow a gasket. I don't want you wasting your time doing shit I should've done a week ago, he'd say.

It isn't time that matters to you. You'd take a couple of days out if it helped him, if it meant he could enjoy the place he lives to the fullest extent. Plus, you spend time here too. And you get to borrow his Walkman the whole time. Eddie has the best tapes.

You hum along to the finishing line of the song and set the last clean cup upside down on the draining board. Satisfied at a job well done, you wipe the sink basin clean, drain suds from the sponge, and turn off the water. Cool air floats in through the open window, kissing your lightly perspiring skin hello.

You dry your hands on a cloth and push Eddie's headphones carefully down to your neck, more than careful with his things. He works hard for everything he has, days and nights and any shift they want him to take. Most of it goes into his savings account. His spare change gets dropped into a washed out pasta sauce jar on the sill for a forthcoming rainy day. Ridiculous amounts of it get spent on you, and if you asked Eddie he'd say it was perfectly reasonable, sweetheart.

You're not asking him. You don't think new clothes and sweet treats nearly every time you see him counts as reasonable, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't appreciate it.

Hence your unsanctioned use of his spare key. You buy him treats too, but money can't buy the satisfaction of a clean home. (Well, it could. Hiring a day maid might've been quicker and cleaner in the end, but would a day maid have put their heart and soul into dusting his figurines with a makeup brush for fifteen minutes?)

You turn around with Eddie on your mind, feeling grateful and tired at once. Your thoughts stutter at the warm body standing casually in the doorway, his shoulder pressed to the jam, a rucksack and a carabiner of keys hanging from his curled fingers.

"Hey," Eddie says.

You flinch like he's coming at you, startled by his sudden appearance.

His laugh is apologetic, at least. "Woah! I thought you heard me, where's your head?"

You slap a hand to your racing heart and huff out a breath that fans up your face. Eddie straightens from his cool guy slouch, dropping his keys on the counter and sliding his bag beside them.

"It's around here somewhere," you say through a smile, trying and failing to glare at him as he puts his hands on your waist. "You scared me bad."

"It was accidental."

He pulls your hips to his and leans back. A close pressure without being particularly sexual. It's obvious that he's looking you over, like you might've miraculously run into harm in the sixteen hours you've been apart.

"I didn't think you'd be back yet, sorry," you say breathlessly, still recuperating from your scare.

"I'm the sorry one."

He brings a hand to your face. If there's one thing you can count on with your boyfriend, it's that he's going to find an excuse to touch your face at least once a day, whether it be with the back of a ring-heavy finger trailing down your cheek lightly, or a flat, hot palm, calluses scratching ever so slightly as he squeezes it into whatever shape he feels like. Never cruel, but melding.

He's in a mood.

Not salacious. Teasing at most, he pulls a rough line down from the corner of your eye to your lips.

"Why are you doing my dishes?" he asks.

His hands smell like citrus scrub and white vinegar. They must've had him cleaning in the kitchen at work again.

"So you wouldn't have to. I know you don't mean to let them pile up."

"I'll find my laundry in the dryer, I'm guessing."

"Nope. Folded in your dresser, more like."

He pulls your chest to his, the heat of his breath kissing your nose. It smells like the spearmint gum he chews obsessively during his morning shifts. Eddie has a theory that eating in the mornings is breaking a seal —you'll be much hungrier for the rest of the day than you would've been otherwise. Better to wait for lunch.

You hate his theory (three meals a day plus as many snacks as he needs would be perfect, if he could find the time) and his gum for what it represents. It reminds you that he likely hasn't eaten today, and you're quick to start brainstorming ideas for dinner from the ingredients you'd seen while cleaning. He has ground beef, enough eggs to make pasta, and a tupperware of frozen soup from last Wednesday. The world's your oyster.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. You don't have time to answer. "I wish you didn't do all the laundry, babe. Those stairs are a fucking killer."

He leans that last inch. A kiss is coming any second now, your pulse capering between your ears. A hundred kisses shared between you and you wait for the next with the same calibre of excitement as you did for the first.

"I owe you a deep tissue massage, right?" he murmurs.

You beam at him, pushing the heel of your palm against his chest to widen the distance between you into something a little less heart-pounding. "You haven't eaten today, have you?"

"I'm pretty hungry," he says, his voice smooth as angora silk.

He looks, again, like he might kiss you. His eyes dip to your lips, a molten brown shining in the kitchen light. You wait, and you wait, but he doesn't close the gap.

You push your smile to one side, your eyelashes twined in the corners from the force of it. Your smile isn't entirely genuine. It's cool if he doesn't wanna kiss you… sort of. He can do whatever he likes, of course, you'd never force him to kiss you just to keep you happy or for any other reason, but you're a little down at the idea that he doesn't want to. You love how they feel. You're used to them as both hello and goodbye.

Eddie might not want to kiss you, but he isn't putting on a show, his amorous smirking a reality you battle with (read: give in to, enjoy, daydream about) on the regular. Perhaps he isn't eager to ravish you after a full day bussing tables. That's more than okay.

However he might be feeling, you aren't going to let him go hungry a minute longer. "Dinner?" you ask.

"I was thinking sloppy Joes," he says, his hand running down your arm. He turns for the fridge. You follow. "Brioche buns?"

You step in front of him, the fridge door a cacophony of glass rattling as you tug it open. "I'm making them."

Eddie wraps his arms around you, moving you bodily to the side. It's too quick for you to dig your heels in.

"You used to be a gentleman," you complain.

"No, I didn't." He taps your ankle with the rubber toe of his converse.

You make dinner together, to each other's chagrin. Eddie steals spatulas and frying pan handles from your grip. You bump his hip away from the stove grill to toast buns. When you sit down together on the couch, it's at war, elbows digging into soft spots and cups placed out of reach on the coffee table.

"Dick," you say.

Eddie takes a bite, says, "You're the dick, dick," and starts shovelling fries onto your plate. "Giving me more fries is ridiculous. We should eat the same portions, we're the same age."

"But one of us had breakfast and lunch, and one of us didn't," you say, using your fork to give his gifted fries straight back.

And here's where you get the first inkling that something's making him not want to kiss you, emphasis on you.

Eddie loves kissing you when he feels loved. For obvious starters, whenever you tell him you love him he makes sure to kiss your lips. When you make him laugh, when you wash his hair in the shower, when you draw stars into his palms, all those things garner a fond peck to the temple. He kisses the space just under your ear so often you're sure there's a contusion in the shape of his mouth there, permanent and purpling, his go-to whenever he's laying on top of you or hugging you from behind.

You can count on a mildly greasy kiss no matter the meal. Eddie loves eating dinner together. He waits for you to get home, sometimes for hours, to share a plate with you. You've never not indulged him with a kiss. Tonight, he doesn't ask.

It would be here. Name-calling dripping in affection, you elbow glancing off of his as you cut into your sloppy Joe, and the TV failing to cover the sound of a quick kiss before he digs in. You're gutted at the lack and surprised to have noticed it, but you don't go so far as to mourn the loss: Eddie's likely too hungry to think about kissing, that's all. Right?

Despite attempts to convince you otherwise, he's hungry. He finishes his plate in what feels like five big bites, hair tucked behind his ears, an innocent but far off look about him as he wipes his fingers in a piece of kitchen towel and leans back into the couch cushions with a small groan.

"We should stop eating on the couch," he says.

"You told me you wanted to sit here." You're confused.

"It's like, testing fate. I'm a mess. I'll ruin it and have to get a new one I can't afford."

You chew on a fry. "I mean," —you put your hand over your mouth, pleased when he turns to you with a ready-made smile, like the act of just looking at you is one he enjoys— "even if you drop something on it, we can Didi Seven it. Or get one of those fancy water vacuum things."

"It's my couch," he says. "You wouldn't have to clean it."

"You're my boyfriend," you respond, "so I wouldn't mind."

"I'm your boyfriend," he says, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

His lips close, his eyes tracking up and along the lines of your features with an unnameable emotion in his gaze. You'd like to say that it's love, but you're starting to think it's something else.

"Don't say it like that. You sound too unsure," you say.

Amusement dances across his face. "Are you finished?" he asks, opening his hand for your tray.

"No," you say, faux-stroppy. You take another fry.

Eddie grabs his tray. He skirts around your legs and stops at your side. In his more dopey moods, he'd take your face into his hand again and hold your head still as he kisses your crown.

He squeezes your shoulder. "I'm not unsure about anything," he says warmly. "I'll get you a drink, yeah? Ice?"

A chuck under the chin with his forefinger and he's gone, leaving you sitting there wondering what's wrong with him. Home an hour now and not one single kiss? Is this the end of the honeymoon phase? How do people survive this shit, you think. It's agonising.

Your chewing turns morose.

You and Eddie go through phases, waxing and waning, as most people do. There's always love there, but sometimes there's so much of it you don't know what to do with yourself besides lavish in it. Only yesterday morning he'd been in your bed, shirtless (as you often wish he'd be), dark ink like bruises in the low light where it climbed the lengths of his arms and his bare chest. You were lax under his touch, his nose and lips pressing to your skin as he kissed you from rib to soft tummy. Slow, kissing you as though he had nowhere else to be but there. As though his next shift wasn't thirty minutes around the corner.

You were mortified when he blew a raspberry. Now you're thinking you might peel out of your shirt and ask him to do it again if it means he'll kiss you in any definition.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks as he returns, his hand sliding along from your shoulder to the other while he steps over your legs.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask.

"Feeling very repetitive today, are we?" he teases, no consideration for your dinner tray as he collapses into the seat beside you.

You're expecting his cheek on your shoulder, his hair tickling your upper arm. It doesn't come. Worried he's discouraged by your tray, you place it on the coffee table and sit back. You really want him to kiss you.

Kissing someone isn't something you thought you'd want to do before you met Eddie. To be kissed, sure. To give a chaste peck, absolutely. But to have someone put their weight on you, to press at the seam of your lips with their own and to wade in like a steady wave, one breath at a time, until you're unsure where the boundary of your mouth begins and his ends, that was all new. Eddie kisses like he loves, loud and brash, rough and eager. Gentle when he needs to be but arduous.

He makes you feel wanted in a thousand ways and the first is his greedy penchant for stealing a kiss or three at every opportunity. It's weird that he hasn't kissed you yet. He's acting weird.

"You're being super weird," you say. You feel like a pressure cooker with steam pouring from the release valve.

Eddie smirks at you. "That so? Any explanation attached to that, or are we name-calling? I have some names for you, if we are."

"Oh, I have to know."

"Figured you would." He throws his leg over your thigh. The firm muscle of it tenses as he wiggles his foot.

"What were you gonna call me?" you prompt impatiently.

"Sweetheart. Angel." He turns his cheek into the back of the couch, bringing his pinky to your face and drawing a line from the smoothest skin under your eye outward. "Pretty. Very pretty."

"Says you," you murmur. If he thinks you're so pretty, why won't he kiss you? "I can't work out your angle today."

"Am I acting differently?" he asks, seemingly unperturbed.

No. He just hasn't kissed you. There might have been a moment when he first came home where you thought he was hesitating to kiss you, but since then he's acted exactly as he usually does (minus kissing, therefore making it unusual).

You sigh, half serious and half wanton sadness. "No." His nose twitches. You startle. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What, do I have bad breath?" you ask, bringing a hurried palm to your mouth to try and test it.

Eddie pulls your hand down, admonishing through a laugh, "You obviously don't. You know I'd tell you, babe."

"Oh."

"I got gum though, if you want it."

You bat his chest. "I bet you do… I don't know what it is, then. I give up."

"What's what?" he asks. He takes a curl of his hair around a painted fingernail. It coils on his finger, where he pinches the end, bringing it up to your chin and drawing a smile under your lips with the tip.

"I… do I have something in my teeth? A zit? What's the issue?" you ask, lost.

"There's no issue!" He laughs, and he curves his hand gently around your neck. "Why do you think there's an issue?" he asks. A thread of his voice wavers. Impossible to notice if you didn't know everything about him, down to the stray hair.

"No, because," —your voice shrinks— "you're being off with me." You won't cry, but it's impossible to stop the doubt that seeps into your voice. "You're not…"

Eddie strokes your neck with his thumb, growing serious. "I'm not what?"

"You haven't kissed me." You avoid his eyes. "Not since you saw me."

"I'm sorry," he says, immediately dipping forward.

You pull back. "Wait–"

Eddie waits. "What?" he asks.

"I don't want you to kiss me just 'cus I asked you to."

Eddie pushes his hand upward, his index finger shaped to your jawline. He rubs a quarter circle from your chin to your jaw tentatively with his thumb, an awful sorry look in his eyes that he gets whenever you're upset. "Well, I always want to kiss you," he confesses. His eyebrows furrow. "You know that, right?"

"But you haven't, today."

Is that pathetic? you panic. Noticing, caring, it feels so, so silly all of a sudden, you can't believe you spilled it that easily. You may as well have written clingy loser across your forehead in glaring pen.

Eddie sees it. He doesn't cringe at you like you fear he will.

"Ah," he says, almost humming, his lips barely parted, "that's just not okay, is it? My girl waiting on a kiss."

He leans in. You shy away, wanting his kiss but wanting the run up more. Eddie follows your lead, keeping space between you, rubbing a diligent and affectionate circle into your cheek. His touch is soft enough to tickle.

"I'm not trying to act desperate, I just figured– I thought there was a reason you hadn't," you say.

Eddie asks you in his softest, most genial tones if he can kiss you.

You don't say yes so much as you lift your chin and close your eyes. Your relief is sharp as he closes the fizzing space between you, as he guides your face to his and holds it there like a treasured pearl cupped in two palms. He makes a sound at the back of his throat that kills any doubts of his affection stone cold dead. Your lips part a millimetre if that, and Eddie slots into the gap, his hands growing less and less careful by the second, the pressure of his touch amping up. He moves back only long enough to turn his head, your noses bumping, another breathy sound slipping past his lips. You smother it gracelessly with a rougher reciprocation.

It's not your longest kiss, but it works. It's the reassurement you needed. Eddie pulls away to suck in a harsh breath, the feeling foreign against your tingling lips. His face dips, his eyes out of view. His hands move in twin down the slope of your neck, languish, feel along the thin layer of your t-shirt as though he's looking for some secret answer.

"I'm not trying to act weird around you, I'm just nervous," he says.

You feel your back aching, stiff as a rod. "Nervous?" you ask quietly.

Eddie rests his forehead on your chin. He whispers a cuss, and then he sits up very tall and looks you in the eye.

It takes him five seconds to tell you what it is that's making him anxious. In that time, you come up with a handful of things. I lost my job. I don't want to be with you anymore. There's someone else. There's no one else, but you did something that pissed me off/made me uncomfortable/disgusted me. I'm sick. None of your guesses are good, and none prepare you for what he asks next.

"Would you wanna move in with me?"

His hand meanders along your thigh. An awkward smile catches his lip like a fish hook, tugging it up on one side.

"I… what?"

"I think it's a good idea. I was trying to ask you yesterday, and now today it didn't feel right. I don't want you thinking I'm asking because you did my laundry." His hand warms your thigh, a pervasive heat. Your face is similarly hot. "We could split rent, and you could keep saving. You wouldn't have to deal with your shitty neighbours. You'd be closer to your job, and– and to me. It's a good idea," he repeats. "There's a ton of reasons it would be good for you, but I'm asking 'cus I missed you so bad last night I couldn't sleep. I wanna be with you whenever we can be."

"You'd really want me to?" you ask.

"You'd never have to wait for a kiss again," he says hopefully. "I know it's a big move. I get it if you're not ready."

"I'm ready," you say. You don't know it's true until you've said it aloud.

Delight sparks and catches like sun-dried tinder. Elation lights his eyes. "Holy shit, yeah? You want to?"

"Yeah," you say, nodding emphatically, trying not to yell. "Yes, I want to. I'd love to! That would be–"

"A dream," he finishes, snatching your waist into his grasp, basically yanking you into his arms.

"Amazing," you say, your arms forced over his shoulders.

You wrap your arms around the back of his head, curls that smell of almond oil and a generous dollop of hair mousse crushed to your face. Your eyes slip closed. You suck in an inconspicuous breath, though your self-indulgent action is interrupted by a groan, Eddie squeezing you hard enough to make the bones in your back click three at a time.

"I can't believe you, sweetheart. I don't kiss you for an hour and you think there's something wrong?" He laughs.

"I'm spoiled," you say sheepishly. To draw his attention, you add, "I can't believe you, afraid to ask me that! Why would I say no? I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, pulling the small of your back tighter still so he can dig his nose into the side of your head.

He kisses you all over the side of your face until you're painted in little warm patches from overexposure. A loved up mess, and dizzy with relief.

Relief and excitement. "How soon do you want me in here?" you ask, sitting back.

"How soon do you want another kiss?" he asks.

"Will we be stealing each other's questions all day?" you ask.

"For the rest of time, if I get my way."

"That's so corny," you whisper, ecstatic.

Eddie pushes you down onto the couch cushions. You know before he so much as pulls up a knee that he's going to climb on top of you. You make room for him, your heart feeling like it could breach through your ribs one bone at a time.

"What are you doing?" you whisper with a smile.

"Making up for lost kisses."

—

Two Weeks Later

Eddie wakes to a kiss.

Your arm thrown over his waist, your hand feeling greedily at the trim curve atop his hip, you've well and truly wrapped yourself around him. Like an octopus. He imagines the popping sound of your suckers if he tried to detach you (not that he'd want to).

You're dotting shy, soft kisses down the column of his throat. "I love you," you say softly between them, a melody that turns him to jelly. "I love you. Love you, love you, love you."

Your kisses are a compromise —after the general holy fucking shit-ism of your conversation a fortnight ago, Eddie put his foot down. He was out of his mind knowing his apartment was about to become yours, but he was also incredibly unhappy about the faces you'd made before he asked. He remembers your voice, your apprehension as you mumbled, "No, because, you're being off with me."

Eddie had been totally off trying to figure out how to ask what was potentially the second most important question he could ever ask you; he was distracted enough by it that he totally forgot about kissing you senseless. And your worrying asked a totally new question he hadn't thought of before. Why does Eddie always kiss you first? And why had the lack of a kiss been seen as a bar, and not an invitation?

Hence Project Kiss Me, Stupid. Or Project Kiss Me Stupid if he's feeling particularly in love (because you aren't stupid at all, but you may have made an unintelligent assumption (Eddie not kissing you for a few hours did not mean even slightly that he isn't gross in love).

The project was more like a proposal. Eddie decided you should be making the first move more often, so you weren't ever left feeling like something was wrong between you for lack of a kiss again. "If you ever think I'm mad at you, plant one on me. I promise I won't be mad much longer," he told you.

You're passing with flying colours, as far as he's concerned. Eddie thinks your moving in was gift enough, but fuck, all these kisses? He's been a walking vestibule of love, and lust, and sickening fondness for two weeks now. Project Kiss Me Stupid is the best thing that's ever happened to him. He's a genius.

"Good morning," you say into his neck, a hint of teeth scratching him with the greeting. Eddie cups the back of your head with a weak, tired groan as your lips close over his pulse.

"Morning," he says. His voice is thick with the grit of sleep.

"This is okay?" you ask, pausing in your kiss.

Eddie tips his head back heavily into plush pillows, your pillows, fresh with new bedding to match the nightstands you'd decided on together. "Please," he says. His arm slides behind your back to belt you in. "I'm gonna think you don't like me anymore if you take any longer."

"Very funny," you murmur.

He knows he's forgiven for teasing when your face dives back into the crook of his neck. His eyes shutter closed, blissed, thinking, God, I could get used to this, when you nip him.

"You didn't like my joke, I take it?"

"It was funny," you say, giving him a scratching kiss.

"That's counter-intuitive," he warns. "I like it rough."

You fall away from him to cover your face with both hands. He knows he's rubbing off on you at the sight, your head shaking a theatrical side to side that fails to hide real embarrassment beneath it. You look especially tortured.

Eddie knows exactly how to fix it.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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arts-bloody-rose · 28 days ago

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Blood of A Rose - Dangerous Territory (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - As (y/n) and Art bask in their growing relationship, a new fan of (y/n)’s dares to make themselves known.

Notes - A request for a fan/stalker fic to add to the series! I’m such a whore for reader having scary dog privileges with Art. Let me know if you have more you would like to see from this beautiful couple 💕

Word Count - 3,256

Warning(s) - Blood, gore, violence, stalker, smut (voyeurism)

Song Inspiration - SAYGRACE - You Don’t Own Me

(Y/n) stood beside Art’s workbench, easel in front of her as she painted away while he twisted and screwed. Her camera sat on the spare stool, the photo of the terrified woman open and used as her main subject while she made improvisations along the way.

She made a point to remind herself to bring her camera whenever her and Art went together, the raw fear and emotion he brought to his victims drawing a copious amount of inspiration for new pieces.

While her photography was fun and equally beautiful, there was something more soothing and calming about a canvas to her, especially in the presence of her favorite company.

(Y/n) sighed, her wrist cracking as she flexed it, stiff from holding the brush for some odd hours.

Art looked over at her and got her attention, waving for her to step away from the easel and motioned to take a deep breath.

“I know, I just get so invested to a point where I can’t stop.” He gave her a disapproving look. “But I think it’s about that time, yeah.”

She stepped away and took off her apron, moving to a nearby basin to wash her hands before putting away her camera. She grabbed the stool, making her way over to Art to sit next to the workbench.

“Whatcha making this time?” She asked curiously.

Art’s grin met his eyes wickedly as he raised his shoulders in excitement. He dramatically waved his hands over it, showcasing to her what looked like a bear trap, but it seemed to have a contraption to fit a head. Art hooked his fingers into his upper and lower mouth, slowly pulling his lips apart to represent what it did.

(Y/n) gasped and nearly gagged. “A reverse bear trap?” Baffled, she looked between the torture device and Art. “It’s - it’s impressive. And rather ingenious, if I’m being honest. Possibly your best yet.” And by best, she meant most disturbing.

Art swayed in his seat bashfully, blinking rapidly to accentuate the emotion. (Y/n) giggled and shook her head, the clown clapping to himself before returning to his work.

She tried to focus on the equipment he made, forearm resting on the bench while her other elbow did the same, chin resting in the palm of her hand with a content smile. She tried to focus, but her eyes couldn’t help but drift to his hands as they grasped at his tools.

Her eyes then slowly traveled up his arms, his torso. Up to the painted face she had grown to love and adore. His eyes carefully focused on the task before him, his mouth ticking up and down every now and then as he concentrated.

The intensity of his focus was enough to make her stomach flutter, a rare moment where she could see him without his theatrics. Where she could see him vulnerable, trusting her enough to comfortably let down the persona he lifted to those outside of their safe space.

(Y/n) gazed up at him endearingly, taking in his every expression, every twitch of his face. Art then dragged his eyes over to meet her own, but she didn’t falter. Her smile remained with the same endearment that she openly showed to him.

“Hi.” She welcomed him gently, her voice nearly a whisper.

His grin finally reached his face and he waved at her, and if she could see the skin of his cheeks there would no doubt be a blush. (Y/n) stood with a certain level of grace and rounded the corner of the bench to stand beside him, wrapping her arms around his torso to which he gladly accepted. He rested an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, laying a cheek on the top of her head. His other hand sat on her arm at his front, fingers tickling the surface as they moved against it.

Bing.

Their heads perked up and they looked at each other in confusion. Art watched as (y/n) looked around, trying to find something. Her eyes landed on the spare stool where her phone sat and she pulled away to retrieve it, checking for notifications.

Alas, there was one.

Her face contorted further into confusion as her eyes skimmed over an email.

“What…?” She questioned to herself. “Someone just asked for a commission?” (Y/n) explained to Art.

His face frowned to join her confusion, head leaning in to say ‘ who? ’.

“I’m not sure, it was anonymous. Apparently they want this though.” She turned her phone to show him the message, and the further he read, the more he grinned mischievously. “Looks like we got work to do.” (Y/n) smiled at him with equal mischief.

“I’m half expecting it to be some kind of a joke and they just use it to humiliate me somehow.” (Y/n) thought out loud as Art listened from beside her, their hands linked together as he swung their arms between them as they walked.

Art shrugged, not denying the possibility. He stopped them, though, and turned to her. He motioned to her, then splayed his hand on his chest adoringly.

“You’re all that matters, I know. I’m just so used to everyone else’s negativity, that's all.” He grabbed her hand again and they resumed their walk. “I just can’t help but run through the possibilities.”

Art pushed himself into her and she stumbled slightly, shooting him a side glare while he laughed to himself.

“ Ha ha. ” She mocked him and giggled.

As they meandered casually in the darker town, they eventually came upon a wandering man that Art deemed sufficient, looking over at his partner for approval as it was her own commission. They ran through their typical routine consisting of Art stalking the victim as (y/n) mindlessly followed.

As they reached the man, he shrieked as Art dragged him into an alleyway, (y/n) casually leaning against the wall beside its entrance and waiting for the clown to do what he did best.

The sounds of struggle and screaming was simply background noise for the artist with how long the two of them had been terrorizing the county together, or rather Art. She simply tagged along to catch a photo or two, and to spend time with him of course.

For the times she did sneak a peek - accidentally - she couldn’t help the warmth that formed in her lower abdomen from the sight of him. Whether he was throwing around the victim like a ragdoll or pinning them down with simply a knee, his acts of strength always held a special place in her heart.

And something else.

Art eventually finished, stepping out of the alleyway with fresh blood on himself while hiding something behind his back, other than his bag. He looked over at (y/n) and wiggled his eyebrows, suddenly whipping out a severed hand with a look of surprise.

He threw himself into a laughing fit as (y/n) jumped away from it with a shriek, hunching over and slapping his thigh with the hand.

“You’re on a roll tonight, you know that?” She told him sarcastically and he pointed at her. “Well, I’m not holding your hand, now, not with that thing.”

His laughter immediately stopped and he pouted, watching as she began to make her way back to his - now, their - hideout.

Once they finally returned, they made their way to Art’s workbench and he generously cleared off one side for her to use, setting the hand on top of it as she set down a voluminous rose at the corner.

She picked off a few petals and scattered them methodically, leading towards the hand that was made to look as if it was reaching for the rose. She snapped a few photos of it, trying to catch good lighting as she did so until she was satisfied.

The hours that followed, she went through her photos, picking out the one her and Art liked the most, editing it further and going through the process of submitting it for the public’s consumption.

By the time she was finished, the sun was almost peaking over the horizon and she yawned, rubbing at her eyes tiredly.

“I’m gonna sleep here tonight, okay?” She told Art who looked at her from his spot at the workbench with an eager smile. She chuckled at him and gently grasped at his wrist. “Lay with me?” She asked innocently.

Art immediately sprung off of the stool, standing behind her and pushing her towards the bedroom as she laughed along the way. He shut the door behind them as she went to get comfortable on the mattress, now covered in a multitude of blankets and pillows collected from her countless visits.

He practically jumped onto the bed beside her and she yelped, swatting at him playfully. Once they finally calmed down, (Y/n) snuggled up to Art who laid on his back. She wrapped an arm over his stomach, a leg lifted up over his hips as her head rested on his shoulder. His nose nuzzled against her head, then placed an exaggerated kiss on it before shimmying to get comfortable with her.

Her eyes drifted shut, breathing in his unique scent. With how gruesome he was, it was surprisingly more pleasant than one would expect. Obviously, the smell of blood and grime would always follow him.

But she also caught whiffs of laundry detergent, grass and leaves. And the different smells of the houses and buildings he entered stuck to him. It was an odd mixture, but it was one she grew to call home.

While her eyes were closed, her mind wandered. She was flattered with the commission, flattered that someone finally appreciated her work. It was a surprise, but it also wasn’t the first she had received. Though they weren’t exactly common, either.

But the emails didn’t stop with the commission.

(Y/n) began to find unsigned notes in the mailbox of her house, writing about how perfect her art was, how it captured something no one else could see. She would’ve been flattered again this time around, if it wasn’t for the fact that she never publicly gave out her address.

She looked over at Art who closed her front door after stopping by to grab a few knives from her kitchen. Quickly, she ripped up the letters and threw them into her trash bin before he could question them, but he did so anyway after hearing the tear of the paper.

“Just junk mail.” (Y/n) reassured him and took hold of his free hand to begin their walk. Art gladly followed, but he glanced over at her suspiciously when he heard the slight change in flux of her usually calm voice.

The following days, as she continued to check her mail, the notes grew more personal, more intimate. They began to not only compliment her work, but began to compliment her own self.

They called her beautiful. Irresistible. They even went as far as to inappropriately describe what they would’ve liked to do with her.

As she read through a particularly explicit note - now accompanied by a picture of her house - her heart began to race as her lips parted. The paper began to shake in her hands and she suddenly looked up and around her, paranoia kicking in.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow move and whipped her head in its direction, but by the time she could decipher it, it was gone.

(Y/n) jumped when she felt a tap on her shoulder and saw Art now standing next to her with a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He noticed the genuine fear in her eyes and his mouth twitched, eyebrows furrowed as he knew she was not one to spook easily.

Art suddenly snatched the paper from her hands, grin slowly dissipating as his eyes skimmed over it, then the picture. His eyes squinted once he finished and looked around them, grabbing (y/n) by the fabric of her shirt and yanking her close to him forcefully. She immediately clung to him as his eyes carefully searched the area, searching for the poor soul that sealed their fate.

When he found nothing out of the ordinary, she knew it was going to be a long night for them as she watched the anger boil beneath his masked grin, itching to satisfy it.

Some nights later, she woke up from her sleep earlier than usual. She typically held a strict sleeping schedule, rarely diverting. And her clown always paid attention to detail.

Art watched her, his usual unblinking stare locked onto her tense form. She hadn’t looked at him yet, too distracted by whatever thoughts gnawed at her mind, but Art saw. He always saw.

She stood in front of her easel, her hand trembling as she tried to focus on her canvas. Her strokes were less confident than usual, her creativity clouded by whatever fear gripped her.

After some time, (y/n) then sighed in an uncharacteristic show of frustration, tossing the brush down and rubbing her temples. Her phone buzzed on the stool, and she glanced at it nervously. Another message.

Art moved silently behind her, peering over her shoulder at the text.

You’re even more beautiful in person, (y/n).

She flinched, quickly locking her phone, but not before Art had seen enough. His gaze darkened with his teeth bared. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like anyone intruding on what was his.

(Y/n) belonged to him. She was his, and he didn’t take kindly to threats.

(Y/n)’s anxiety was palpable, her breathing uneven as she paced the room. He watched her carefully, his fingers twitching with the urge to do something. To protect. To hunt.

When (Y/n) finally sat down, Art slunk away into the darkness, his mind already churning with thoughts of who this intruder could be.

But he would find out. He always did.

Not long after, (y/n) stood at her easel as usual, adding final touches to her current work when the door to the hideout busted open.

She jumped and dropped her brush in the process, turning to see a bloodied Art dragging a man by his ear into one of the empty rooms. He whimpered and cried helplessly after being thrown inside, Art exiting from the room he was in and entering another.

The clown dragged a chair back into the first room, followed by more sounds of struggle and chains being rustled. She stared at Art when he entered their workspace, a sadistic grin plastered on his face as he grabbed one of their stools, then took up her arm and pulled both into the room with the man.

She entered to see him bloodied and already ripped apart in a few places, gasping for air and choking on his own blood. Art placed the stool a few feet in front of where the man sat chained to the chair and patted the top of it.

Art then proudly moved to stand beside him, presenting him to her with a flair and wide grin. With a confused expression, (y/n) looked between the two men until Art pulled out the note with the picture. He held it up, teasingly shaking it, then turned to the man and shoved it into his mouth aggressively.

“You?” (Y/n) asked the man incredulously as Art made his way over to her, his eyes never leaving the chair. She looked over at Art who then wiggled his eyebrows at her, hands brushing over her as he coaxed her to sit on the stool.

Art kissed her cheek dramatically, tickled the spot with his finger, then looked over at the man with a surprised expression, hand over his mouth. His grin returned suddenly, eyes filled with a torturous perversity as he slowly locked eyes with (y/n).

Her breath grew shallow, shaky as one of his hands grasped her arm, stepping behind her before his opposite found its place on her other. She felt his breath fan over her neck, tickling as his nose and chin feathered over her skin.

His hands leisurely progressed down to her waist, exposed fingertips raising her skin in its wake. They grasped and applied pressure, squeezing before they lowered further to her hips, brushing over the bone as they passed to her thighs. Art squeezed at their inner fat, his tongue running along the shell of her ear luring them open as they both stared at the man before them.

The fingertips of one hand danced along the fabric of her trousers, inching their way up to her clothed center as her head tilted back, breathing into his neck desperately as he seduced her.

He teased (y/n), caressing over her sensitive bud as she sighed under his ear. His other hand rose to wrap around her front, tugging her into him forcibly. The hand that teased her finally began to apply pressure, the circular motion of his fingers making her back arch against him and his body pressed further against her.

Her hand moved to settle behind his neck as he continued his rhythm, breathing uneven as he began to increase his speed. Art himself released a shaky breath when she finally moaned, quickly locking eyes with the brave soul in front of them once again.

(Y/n) felt a familiar pressure begin to build, her legs growing antsy as she moved against him. His teeth bit down on the lobe of her ear, and she gripped his neck tighter as the pleasure flooded her senses. With a second bite, she cried out with her orgasm and Art reached up to her jaw, turning her head to face the man and forcing him to watch.

Before (y/n) could even recover, Art forced his hand under her trousers and panties, coating his fingers in her slick before plunging two fingers into her. With another cry, the stool beneath her teetered as she jolted at the intrusion, hand flying down to grip at his wrist as he began to pump his digits in and out of her while simultaneously securing the stool.

The hand at her jaw slid down to her neck and wrapped around it, tight enough for her to feel breathless yet not enough to completely block her airway. She gasped as it heightened the intensity of it all, and Art eyed her expressions menacingly before turning to look at the man to show his surprise of her reaction.

He bared his teeth once more after hearing her vocals shift, his fingers eagerly chasing after her release as she clawed at Art desperately.

Heaving out a rather fierce moan, she came on his hand a second time and he flinched back with excitement, laughter soon following as he rode it out and fed into it.

Art then eased out his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick at them hungrily. He steadied (y/n) on the stool before reaching down for something behind her, then slinked over to stand beside the man.

(Y/n) looked down to see a brick hammer in Art’s hand, watching as the clown bent down with his hands on his knees as he grinned ominously at her stalker.

Art held up the hammer to the man’s face and wiggled it, showing it off to him before suddenly pulling his arm back and sending it to his skull.

#art the clown x reader #art the clown #art #art x reader #terrifier #terrifier 2 #Terrifier 3 #terrifier x reader #clown #damien leone #david howard thornton #fanfiction #oneshots #request #blood of a rose #x reader

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a-b-riddle · 1 month ago

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Sins of the Father

cw: shifter romance. A/B/O dynamics. Angst. Grovel. Hurt/comfort. Sick children. Loss of parents. Last name mentioned for reader (sorry but they have to call her something). I’ll add more if I think of any. I’m back in my wattpad era. cringe. Reader is early to mid twenties. Related to story sorry :(

pairings: poly141 x OFC

Summary: For seven years you have lived as an outcast in your own pack. Shunned, you had to make due to ensure not only your own survival but your younger sister’s as well. Now, after years of failing to shift and being labeled as broken, the connection that the gods had chosen for you clicks into place. Much to uour dismay, it’s not only person who sentenced you to exile, but his three betas as well.

There were two rules above all else in your world:

1) Don’t disobey the Alpha.

2) Don’t sneak off packlands.

Since there was a direct order from Alpha Price to stay in the territory, you were breaking both. But the alphahole was twisting your arm at this point. It was either obey him and let Rosie die or say fuck it and she might be able to fight the infection.

Rosie 13 months old when your mother went missing. Four months later, your father had challenged Price. His wounds had been fatal and the consequence for his betrayal had fallen upon you and Rosie. She was still a baby and you were still a child yourself. But you guess the daughters were meant to pay for the sins of their father.

And Rosie had paid nearly all of her life for what your father had done. No medical aid given. Your monthly rations were whatever was leftover. Year after year the rations had dwindled down to the point where it wasn’t enough to sustain you both through a quarter of the way through the winter.

You had learned long ago that being a part of a pack didn’t make you part of the pack. Which was why you had to rely on trading with the humans in order to get medicine and non-perishable goods.

Tonight was the night before the run. No one except border patrol would be out and no one keeps tabs on what happens to the Blackburn girls. No one would be looking out for the pack’s pariah at this time of night.

You couldn’t breathe easy until your cottage came into view. You were thankful that you were so far away from the rest of the pack and remained at the edge of the border. The five mile trek had been taken down to a little over two.

Rosie was still tucked in bed just as she had been the last two days. The cold cloth on her forehead no doubt warm now. She stirred awake as the door creaked shut behind you. “Sissy?” Her voice rasped, sounding more like old hag than a 9-year-old girl.

“Hey Rosie Posey,” You greeted softly as you pulled the pill bottle from your backpack. “Miss Oliver says hi. Hopes to see you soon.”

Miss Oliver was a doctor that you had met years ago. Anytime Rosie got too sick for you to handle, you sought her out. She had always been willing to help. Even given the difference in species.

Rosie took the medicine without fuss and settled back into bed after offering a quiet, “thank you.”

You put away the supplies you had gotten. After changing out of your sweaty clothes, you had washed off with a basin of water and a rag in the corner of the room. The fire had now dwindled down to glowing embers.

You laid down next to her and almost by instinct, her body moved closer to yours. No doubt seeking any warmth she could.

It was hard. Having maternal feelings for a child who was meant to be your sibling. Having to become a mother before you really got the chance to be a sister.

You were just grateful she was still here.

It was moments like this when the hate you had for Price and the pack left your body body. When Rosie’s breathing becomes clear and her skin doesn’t burn beneath your touch. Where for just a moment you don’t live a crumbling shack. You feel safe and the worries of tomorrow escape you.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #angst #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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all4yoi · 3 months ago

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𝒮ins 𝑜f 𝒯he ℳanor ۰ sjy

𝑔ardener!jake x 𝓁ady!reader ⚹ cw. set in 1880s, angst??, fluff, mentions of arrange marriage, love at first sight??, jake is down bad, sunghoon punches jay lol, heeseung mentioned grahh, theyre just rlly inlove idk, toxic family kinda, not proofread

sypnosis: Y/N L/N, a lively aristocrat, finds herself in love with Sim Jaeyun, the estate gardener. Their secret romance defies societal expectations, jeopardizing both their reputations and family honor as they navigate the treacherous waters and the consequences of cross-class affection.

or in short, wherein Sim Jaeyun finds himself longing for the infamous nobleman's daughter the longer he works for their estate.

notes, word count is like 5.7k haha, i wrote this for 3 nights, anyway i rlly loved writing this! if you like it to, please reblog~

The day you were welcomed to the world, your mother has always told you how your grandmother washed your face with water that had rose petals in the basin with it. She had said that doing so will grant the baby beauty.

You weren't sure if that moment had any connection on your adoration to roses now that you've grown to a fine young lady. Usually, a smile would be adorned on your face whilst you stood admiring the roses in one corner of the huge garden you and your grandmother had built over the years, if it weren't for the fact that the roses were wilting now.

Their usual bold red color has gone darker and its petals drier. You could revive them, obviously, but you didn't know how. Your grandmother died three days ago and throughout your life, she had taught you everything you needed to know in gardening.

Now it looks like she forgot to teach you one thing. She was always quite forgetful.

Two warm hands placed themselves on your shoulders.

"Do not fret, my darling. Your father has already secured the assistance of someone who will restore your roses to their former beauty." came the voice of your mother as she squeezed your shoulders reassuringly.

You stood unresponsive before turning to look at her.

"Thank you, mama."

"He shall arrive by noon tomorrow. Let us return to the manor; it is growing rather dark."

With that, you turned your back on the wilting roses and walked away. Atleast, by tomorrow, one of the two things you loved and lost will be brought back. Hopefully.

"You got a job with the L/N's? That's huge! What will you be doing there?" Sunghoon, a friend of Jake's questioned eagerly.

Jake patted his trousers, removing unwanted dust that had clung on to him whilst he prepared everything he needed.

"Well, just some gardening, of course. That's what I was told. That's what I do for a living." he answered briefly before putting his sling bag over his shoulder.

Sunghoon scrunched up his nose, "That sounds a bit dull, even though I've expected it, but good luck! I'll see you around!" he says as he pushes his friend by the shoulders and jogging away from him.

Jake huffed and began his journey to the L/N Manor.

The walk was rather peaceful, greeting acquaintances he meets along the way and helping some when he notices they need one.

Looking up the sky, Jake came to an abrupt stop before coming up in a sprint.

He said he was to arrive at noon, and noon was approaching much sooner than he planned. He supposes it was because of the constant helping hand he had lent towards the people he came across with.

He should really stop doing those at the wrong time.

"You are tardy, young man. You should consider yourself fortunate that only Lady Y/N is waiting. The Earl and Countess are presently engaged in their duties elsewhere." An elderly housemaid nags, tutting disapprovingly at the sweating young man infront of her.

"I'm terribly sorry, really am." Jake spoked in between pants, he saw the housemaid's glare soften before he was urged inside as the elderly woman led him towards the back of the manor.

Jake could only gape at the size of the house, oh what he would do to live in a house like this.

His mouth only widened at the sight of a large garden where he was now walking into, the elderly woman still leading him somewhere secluded.

He spun around but continued to walk, admiring the scenery infront of him. There were various of colorful flowers like tulips, pansies, marigolds, lilies.. everything. He could spot a greenhouse in one corner, a pond in another, a fountain in the middle, and a maiden standing over a bush of.. wilting roses.

Guess he found his job.

"Lady Y/N, the gardener has arrived. Should you require any assistance, please do not hesitate to summon me."

And with that, Jake was left alone with the Earl's only child and daughter.

"Pray excuse my tardiness, m'lady. I was detained by.. an unforeseen matter." he spoke softly.

Turning around, you were met with big brown eyes staring right back at you. If you had noticed the way they widened, you didn't mention it.

Eyeing him up and down, you studied his appearance. He was dressed in beige trousers and a white linen shirt with its sleeves folded up until his elbows, he wore a brown sling bag and a small black beret sat on top of his rather long black hair.

Father would've nagged him for that.

"M'lady?" his voice was rather attractive, you noted. It suited his face.

"Pardon me, I was under the impression that you would be somewhat older." you sent a small smile as he scratched his nape.

"Ah well-"

"Please don't misunderstand me! I am delighted to be speaking with someone of my own age... You are of similar age to myself, aren't you?"

Jake broke into a wide smile, biting his lower lip as he chuckled. The heavy load on his shoulders seemed to have been lifted. You weren't like those.. pardon him for saying, brats, that he had worked with from the past.

So far in his life, Jake has encountered two noble families (your family being the third), considered that he was the grandson of the greatest gardener in town.

The Baron's twin daughters spoke in this shrilly voice as they constantly nagged him for cutting the stems of their flowers when he had only wanted the plant to absorb more water properly. He had been sacked the same day.

Meanwhile the Viscount's daughter only flirted with him any chance she got and when he had rejected her politely and respectfully (he didn't want to lose his job and ruin someone's reputation, also because he wasn't intrested), she bawled and at the end, he was fired and was forever banned from their manor. Not like he's planning on coming back anyway.

So seeing you with pure kindness and innocence written all over you, gave him a bit of hope that you'd be better than the previous daughters he had dealt with.

"Yes, I am, m'lady. I am Sim Jaeyun. Please, do call me Jake." he bowed his head lightly before stepping forward, now standing side by side with the pretty maiden. He eyed the roses, some were dying, some were already dead.

"My grandmother passed away four days ago; though you may already be aware of this. She and I planted these roses together, but since her funeral, they have begun to wilt. I am at a loss as to how to restore their former beauty." you spoke softly, brows furrowing as you crouched down and caressed one rose that was still of color and beauty.

Looking up at the attractive boy, you sent him a genuine smile.

"I do hope you can assist me, Sim Jaeyun."

"Do not worry, my lady; it would be the last thing I'd do."

The next day, despite the usual bright sky being covered with dark rain clouds, Jake had a small smile on his face as he began his journey to the manor he'd be working in for the next following months.

Not only was he going to take care of the roses, but he was also offered the job of maintaining the garden's beauty, regardless of its heavy responsibility he did not think twice in accepting the offer, maybe it was the pay that made him accept or maybe it was the simple love he had for what he does.

Upon arriving at the manor, he was immediately led towards the garden by a different maid this time.

Jake skipped over towards the rose bushes and began to do his work. He had noticed that you were nowhere to be found, he had atleast expected to see you hanging around in the garden.

An hour has passed and he was now tending on the marigolds, admiring its beauty and sprinkling it with some water.

He felt a drop of water on his eyebrow, then another on his nose. It was starting to rain.

Jake didn't know why his first thought was to run to the greenhouse when he was much more closer to the manor's backdoor. He followed his gut, and now here he was, stuck in the greenhouse as the rain echoed inside.

"Mr. Sim?"

Turning around abruptly, he was met with your wide eyes staring back at him.

You were wearing a custom made dress in a shade of light blue, it fell down until your shoes weren't visible. Your hands were covered in dirt as you stood infront of the tomatoes.

"Lady Y/N! How delightful to see you!" he greeted with a smile before it fell as realization dawned to him.

He walked closer to you, his eyes scanning your form. Now that he was closer, he could see some stains of dirt littered on your neck down to your clothed torso.

"May I ask what brings you here?" he questioned, looking at the tomatoes on a basket before averting his gaze back to you.

"I was simply attending to the tomatoes. This is how I pass the time, as there is little to occupy me within the estate." your soft voice could kill millions, he thinks to himself. He takes a handkerchief from his trousers and held out his hand.

"Do you mind if I..?" you stared at his hand and shook your head, bringing your softer hands against his.

He began wiping away the dirt, trying his hardest not to look up and stare at your face. Jake knew that you were fairly beautiful, but he was already crossing the line of holding your hand and tending to you.

For goodness sake, you have your own personal maid who's job is to do this!

"I did not anticipate the rain today; I came here straight away upon finishing my breakfast." you had explained, looking up at the clear ceiling of the structure and watching the rain drops fall.

Jake dropped your now clean hands gently before walking towards his discarded bag on the ground. "Here, I have a coat in my bag. You may drape it over your head and return to the warmth of the estate. It will be far more comfortable there than it is out here."

"And what of yourself? You're not intending to remain out here, are you?" Jake gaped at you, his mouth opening and closing as he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

Having no response from the young man, you added, "I shall remain here with you until the rain lessens somewhat."

"But-"

"I insist."

So with that, the two of you stayed together sharing stories of your own experiences, sharing laughter, and slowly building a bond.

As the rain slowly calmed down, Jake had thrown his jacket over your head and led you out the greenhouse. His arms were still holding on to the jacket to keep it from slipping off whilst your head was practically shoved in his chest.

The sounds of your laughter were silenced with the pitter patter of the rain as you two ran back to the manor.

"Lady Y/N! I was searching for you—oh dear! We must get you cleaned up before your mother arrives and sees you in such a state. Come along, quickly!" your personal maid whines as she nearly rips you away from the gardener's arm, not sparing him a glance as she took the jacket off your head and on to the floor.

You spared him a glance over the shoulder of your maid, smiling and mouthing 'thank you.' Jake was quite sure that you've brought his heart with you as you walked away from him.

That day, you learned that Jake had a deep connection to nature and craftsmanship. He was undeniably refreshing compared to the suitors your mother would force you to spend time with. He was authentic, extremely kind, and he longed for a life defined by passion and purpose rather than societal expectations. Just like you did.

For the past few days, Jake had been visiting the manor to tend on the roses and everything else. Everytime he did, you'd be sitting somewhere far yet near enough to see what he's doing. He would never admit it, but everytime he woke up in the morning, all he'd ever think about is seeing you.

If you weren't in the greenhouse, you'd sometimes be under a tree and have a book with you, maybe a tea, or your white feline friend, and sometimes it was just you and your pretty face.

Occasionally you'd even approach him and crouch down beside him, just watching the way his hands work on your precious roses. Maybe even share hidden caresses of each others hands as you two worked together on some days.

Today was one of those days.

"Do you see what I have done?" Jake spoke, gesturing over the basket filled with dead roses and leaves. "I have removed the roses that were wilting, dying, and drying. These were afflicted with diseases that might spread and endanger the remaining roses."

"I have also removed some of the weeds growing around the bush, as they might be competing for the nutrients that should be going to the roses themselves."

He only received an understanding nod and a small smile in return. During these moments, he had to hide the shake in his hands, not because of fear. He was overwhelmed, you were too pretty to be true.

Pausing in his words, he stared at your face. Memorizing each feature.

Then suddenly, he found his fingers tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. You merely stared back at him, letting him caress you.

He was developing a crush on someone he knows he shouldn't. He'd be banished not only of this job, but possibly his house too. He knows it's impossible for an Earl to do that, but he'd be able to financially ruin him and his grandfather that would cause them to leave their warm abode.

As much as he wanted to pursue you, he could not, and he (somewhat) already accepts that. So, he'd stand firm and do the job he's told to do.

"It appears that you two are finding much pleasure in each other's company."

You immediately stood up and dusted your dress to get rid of the dirt that had clung to it.

"Mama.. I was only-"

"Inside the manor, Y/N, we have guests coming, and your father is seeking your presence." she cooly said, her cold eyes staring straight at the gardener who was now also standing.

The girl simply nodded, sparing a quick glance at Jake before walking back to the manor.

"Your ladyship." Jake bowed his head before meeting the eyes of the tall woman.

"I trust you have not forgotten your duties. You are to attend solely to the flowers; becoming familiar with my daughter is not part of what my husband has entrusted you with, am I correct?" she raised an intimidating brow at him.

"You are absolutely correct, my lady. I assure you it will not happen again."

"I hope so, especially now that she is to be wed to the Duke's son. You are dismissed for today. Good day." and before he could even answer, the tall woman turned her back on him and walked away.

Jake felt his world come crashing down.

As he picked up his gardening tools he couldn't stop the tightening in his chest, he knew he had no right to feel this way. He was a gardener, you were an Earl's daughter.

You'd be better off with the son of a Duke. You won't gain anything from marrying a gardener, someone who cuts plants for a living and lives off of minimum wage.

Closing his eyes briefly, he exhaled and slapped himself in the chest in an attempt to get rid of its tightness.

As he said, he'd stand firm and do the job he's told to do.

And that is to tend to the roses, and not become familiar with the only daughter of the L/N's.

"What has you feeling so low?"

"God! I didn't expect to see you awake gramps." the sudden voice of his grandfather surprised him so much that he had accidentally slammed the door of their home so loud.

"And I'm not feeling low, merely fatigued, that's all." he added and dropped his bag on a stool before taking a bread from their kitchen.

His grandfather squinted his eyes at him before clearing his throat, he opened his newspaper before reading out loud.

"Lee Heeseung, son of the Duke, is reported to be betrothed to Y/N L/N, daughter of the Earl."

"Gramps, you should go to bed. You need to rest; why are you out here?"

His grandfather merely tutts, shaking his head and sighing. "Don't tell me you have become enamored with the daughter of an Earl?" his strained voice grumbled out.

Jake clicks his tongue and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have not. What made you come up with that conclusion?" he asks, now looking at his grandfather.

"Don't look at me like that." he muttered.

"Like what, son?"

"Like you understand how I feel, as though you pity me." he replied, his eyes turning glassy.

His grandfather sighed, taking a sip of his coffee and gasping loudly after. "I would prefer not to have my grandson's head presented to me by the Earl one random morning. You ought to know better, Jaeyun."

Jake huffed in annoyance, chewing aggressively on his bread.

"I cannot help it! And it is not as though I could do anything about it. She is.. after all, to be wed soon." he spoke with his mouth full of bread.

"To a duke's son too.." he silently added before walking away and to his room.

The old man sighs, taking an old photograph he always kept on his chest pocket. He stared longingly at the girl in the picture who was smiling widely, a rose tucked on her ear.

Jake covered himself in his thin blanket, staring at the ceiling. There was no denying that he held affection towards you. You, who was a free spirit that was a stark contrast to the rigid expectations of the society and constraints he had experienced throughout his life. He had never met anyone like you—curious, admiration towards anything, and your willingness to engage with him and his work.

You made him feel seen and valued, something he rarely feels in the society you both lived in. You didn't care about money, you weren't disgusted by him when he touched you, you didn't push him away.

He loved you dearly, yet it was nearly impossible to have you as his.

"Papa, I do not wish to marry just yet, I beg you!" you exclaimed as soon as the Duke and his son has left your estate.

Your father merely glared at you over his shoulder before completely facing you. "You will marry! You should be grateful that they insisted on coming here rather than us having to go their estate!"

"But—why? You and Mama promised you would grant me a few more years after my 18th before arranging my marriage!" you argued, nearly in tears.

From behind you, your mother's nose flared in rage.

"Do not think we are unaware of your growing relationship with the gardener! My God, what would people say?" you turned to her, your eyes wide in shock.

"Wha-"

"Everyone in this estate has been observing you both and has not failed to tell us when something prosperous happens between you both. You are marrying the Duke's son, and that is final." your father walks away, leaving you with tear stained eyes as you hear your mother's heels click as she too, walks away.

Ever since that day, Lee Heeseung has begun to make his presence known at L/N Manor by visiting frequently.

Jake still had to work, your mother insisted that he shouldn't be sacked for her own reasons. Although, Jake already knew that she only wanted to rub the reality that he wouldn't be picked over a Duke's son in his face.

Everyday he came over to do his duties on the garden, you'd still be there, but this time with a tall handsome man beside you with your arms linked with him.

You'd still be sat under the tree, but there would be a man beside you with his arm around your waist. He'd still see you in the greenhouse, but instead of gushing over the fruits you've planted recently to him, it would be towards Lee Heeseung now.

Despite all of that, he continued his work until the roses he was tending to were now healthy and beautiful again. His work was now done, he had no more reason to keep coming back on the estate's garden.

Today was his last day. Although the Earl disliked him a lot now, he was paid such high amount for his last paycheck.

Maybe this was their way on telling him to move on and never show his face to them again.

As he was bidding his farewell to the beautiful garden, he was startled by a voice calling out his name. The voice so soft and familiar, his heart beat increased immediately at the sound.

"My lady.. If they were to see me- if they were to witness you conversing with me.." he looked over your shoulder as he stuttered, his heart beating too fast for it to be healthy.

"Come along with me."

"But-"

"I order you." Jake's eyes widened before he nodded.

He followed you, looking over his shoulder in nervousness. He was glad to talk to you and be in your presence once more without the Duke's son beside you, despite the risk of being seen with you- he'd gladly take any consequences (not really) just so he could see you for maybe the last time ever.

You led him inside the greenhouse and when the door closed, you turned to face him. Your former stern face was now worried and in sorrow.

"In three days' time, they are to host my engagement ball with Lord Heeseung." Jake furrowed his brows, he didn't want to know any of this. He had hoped you ordered him to come with you to bid your farewell or throw him a hug.

"My lady, you are aware that it would be most unsuitable for you to extend an invitation to me." he whispered as if someone other than you would hear.

"I am aware, let me talk." he shut his mouth real quick.

"I have little affection for this marriage; I intend to escape on the day of my engagement party." Jake wanted to jump in the air and scream in joy when the words processed in his mind.

He held back and tilted his head, looking to his side. "I understand, my lady, but surely you recognize that it is impossible? With everyone in attendance at the party, there is no way..."

Your frustrated sigh made cut him off. He gulped, he could already see where this is leading, and he doesn't know whether he's up to it or not.

"That is where you come in," you say, stepping closer. "I beg for your help. I am sure.. you would like to, would you not?" his face softened as he felt the warmth of your hand upon his cheek.

He inhaled sharply, his hand coming on top of yours as he too stepped closer. "I do, trust me. However, do not expect success from me."

The nod you responded with filled him with warmth all over, and with his heart controlling him, he pressed his lips to yours. Your lips was what he expected it to feel, soft and warm against him as you both moved in sync. It was full of passion, love, and comfort.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands now on your waist.

"In three days time." he whispered.

"I shall wait for you." and just like he did a while ago, you pressed your lips against his once again.

Sunghoon stared at his friend as if he had grew two more heads. He was crouched down on the ground with Samuel (their small pig) who was drinking his water on a steel bowl beside him.

Meanwhile, Jongseong rested his dirty hands on his hips, looking at Jake with an amused expression.

"Allow me to reiterate your words," Jongseong said with amusement. "You wish for us to assist you in arranging Lady Y/N's escape in two days' time? How amusing." He scoffed and laughed.

Jake groaned, kicking the grass on his feet. "Do not jest! I am incredibly serious." he furrowed his brows.

"You can not be serious. And then what? She escapes and we face imprisonment? Are you listening to yourself, Jaeyun?" Sunghoon finally spoke, standing up from his position.

“I assure you, I am quite earnest in this matter,” Jake said with a gentle, resolute tone, his voice betraying his weariness at trying to persuade his friends. “I am relocating at her behest, and I would go to any lengths for her.”

He paused, casting a resigned glance at his friends. "Yesterday, we shared a kiss. Is that not sufficient evidence of my intent? Must I then demonstrate my affection before you in a more explicit manner?”

The three of them fell into a moment of silence. Sunghoon, visibly distressed, ran his fingers through his hair, while Jongseong, deep in thought, chewed his lip in quiet deliberation.

Sunghoon scratched his head aggressively before speaking. “Doesn’t your grandfather have a secluded cabin tucked away somewhere? You could take her there—no one would be able to find you.”

Jake looked up, his eyes lightening up before shaking his head.

“Yes, he does, but getting there requires a thirty-minute boat ride. Unfortunately, we no longer have a boat, which is why gramps no longer insists we live there.” he responded, obviously crestfallen.

Sunghoon looked down, muttering a small 'oh.'

Jongseong looked at both his companions, inhaling and looked at Jake straight in the eye. “Actually.. my late father had a boat. Mother no longer values it, so you could make use of it.”

Jake smiled widely, thanking both of his friends. Now all he had to do was tell his grandfather.. and make sure your escape would be successful.

To say that he was nervous was an understatement, he knew that the moment he utters the words "help" and "escape" his grandfather would deny immediately.

So here he was, eating supper across his grandfather who looked like he was getting chased down by a bear with how fast he was devouring his food.

"Whacha staring at for kid? Eat." the old man grumbled, pointing at his untouched plate.

Jake cleared his throat, “Gramps, the cabin you have—would it still be livable?”

His grandfather looked up from his plate, raising a brow. "'Course it is, I expect so. Left that ruddy cabin clean before I had to move here to take care of 'ya." the younger merely nodded.

The old man leaned back on his chair, exhaling. "What are you planning on, Jaeyun?" he asked, squinting his eyes at him.

"Lady Y/N requires my assistance in.. escaping her engagement ball in two days' time." Jake whispered, playing with the soup infront of him. He shut his eyes, ready for a lecture when he heard the seat of his grandfather moan against the floorboard.

Jake sighed in defeat. Even though he would have Jongseong's father's boat, he would not have the key to the cabin. It's not like he could keep the lady cold outside or in a middle of a river.

Before he could stand up and retreat to his room to come up with a new plan, his grandfather dragged a chair beside his and sat down. The older man's wrinkle filled hands dropped a key and an old photograph on the table.

“I admire your bravery, son. Had I been less cowardly, I would have done exactly as you have in the past.” he looked at his grandfather, who merely gestured towards the photograph.

Jake's nimble fingers took the old and worn out paper, staring directly at a woman who had a rose tucked in her ear. She looked oddly like the woman who has his heart in her hand, he thinks.

"That is Adelaide L/N. Lady Y/N's late grandmother." his grandfather whispered longingly, smiling slightly at the sight.

“What we had… was something society would not view in a favorable light. Thus, I let her go, despite her pleas for me to take her far away so we could live the life we desired together.” His grandfather sighed deeply. “I was overwhelmed by fear of scandal, and it overshadowed my love for her.”

"Gramps.."

“So, I will not tell you to stop. But I will urge you to be cautious. I have told you once, and I tell you again: I do not wish to receive my grandson’s head on a platter,” the old man said sternly, then patted his grandson’s shoulder and gave him a firm side hug.

Smiling gratefully at his grandfather, he leaned on to his side as he looked at the photograph still before taking the key.

Now all he had to do was take you away.

The day has finally come and so far it was going pleasantly, for your parents atleast. Everyone in the ballroom was dressed beautifully, congratulating you and Heeseung for your engagement. They were all convinced that you both were inlove, which was far from the truth.

You had been at it for hours, greeting guests and dancing. You had started to lose hope, maybe Jake realized that what you asked for was incredibly stupid and risky.

Just as you had fully lost all your hope, a sudden shout from outside took everyone's attention. It continued until everyone was now crowding over the entrance of the venue.

You gulped, it was now or never.

"Excuse me." you had tried to pry Heeseung's arm away from you, but he held on to you tightly. With furrowed brows, he looked down on you. "Where are you going? It is dangerous to go wandering around alone."

"I truly only wish to retire to the powder room."

"If you insist. Please, be careful." you only nodded as he finally let you go. You practically rushed to the comfort room, gathering your dress in your hands so that you would not trip.

Yesterday, you received a letter from Jake. Explaining what he had planned for today. You could nearly recite the whole letter if someone would ask you to for the many times you've reread the letter.

Dear Y/N,

Everything is set. I will not disclose in this letter what I have planned entirely in case this letter falls on the wrong hands. On the day of your engagement ball, my friends will create a disturbance outside the venue to draw attention away from you so that you could flee without anyone's watchful eyes. I understand your concerns, but please know I did not coerce them into this; they insisted, saying it was something they had long wished to do. Should this distraction fail, simply excuse yourself to the powder room, but enter the men's; there is a large window there through which I will be waiting. Once you are out, we will escape together to a place where no one will find us.

I know it is not yet appropriate to express such sentiments, but I must tell you in advance. If all fails, remember that my love for you is unwavering, I would give up my life for you if I had to. I am deeply grateful for your trust.

Yours forever,

SJY

Entering the men’s powder room, you felt a sense of relief when you found it empty; any unwanted company would have made the situation quite awkward.

Just as he said in the letter, there was a huge window and through it, you could see Jake who's worried eyes widened at the sight of you. You rushed towards the pane of glass, unlocking it and sliding it up.

Jake helped you climb over the window, and once your feet touched the ground the door of the powder room burst open. There stood Lee Heeseung, his brows furrowed as he looked between you and Jake.

Grabbing Jake's hand, you made a run for it as you both ignored Heeseung scream for you to come back.

You both continued to run, repeatedly tripping and looking over your shoulders every few seconds. The grip you had on each other was tight, no intentions on letting go.

Finally, you reached a huge lake and a figure waved you both over. “It’s all set up. You two should hurry; Sunghoon just got escorted out. The fool actually punched me in the face,” said the taller man, gesturing towards the boat and indicating his eye, which was beginning to swell with a bruise.

Jake nodded, patting the unfamiliar man's shoulder before guiding you to sit on the boat. He boarded with you and pushed the boat away with a canoe. Before the boat could go far, Jake spoke.

“Thank you so much, Jongseong, really. Please tell Sunghoon that I owe him my life!” he shouted, which earned a stern glare from Jongseong.

He merely sent a thumbs up at his friend and a salute to you before running away to avoid getting you two caught.

Jake now faced you, a smile on his face.

“I scarcely believed you would truly follow through.” you whispered, bringing your knees closer to your chest. The boy across you chuckled, biting his lip, overwhelmed with nerves and joy.

“I told you, I would do anything for you. Even if its the last thing I’d ever do."

338 notes · View notes

ja3hwa · 1 year ago

Text

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟎: 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐎𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭/𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐉.𝐘𝐇 ♡

Let Me Help

【Synopsis】 : You didn't know what it meant to be on heat, let alone know you could have one since you weren't a wolf... but here you were, and Yunho was going to help you through it.

『Word count』 : 1.95k

-> Genre: Smut. Wolf Au. Fantasy Au. Fluff.

Paring: Werewolf!Yunho x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Unprotective sex. Pet names. Neck kisses, hickies. Biting. Cumming inside [don’t do that unless you wan babas] Alpha kink. Knotting. Slight choking. Rough sex. Fluff stuff. Some Omegaverse stuff

Thank you, @spooo00oky, for requesting Yunho for this day. I hope you enjoy ♡♡♡

You were a human. That fell in love with a werewolf and now you’re his mate and live in a den with all his other wolf friends that are also his pack and you are the first human to be mated to one of the wolves in this pack in history. And plus you are now experiencing what they call a heat but you aren’t a wolf and none of the she-wolves or the alchemist knows what to do so you are pacing back and forth in your bathroom waiting for your lover to come home from a full moon cleanse to tell him to help you through something you’ve never been through before….

Missing anything?

“Fuck!” Your hand slipped off the basin in the bathroom, clutching your stomach. You’ve never experienced such a pain before only being able to compare period pains or when you’ve eaten bad food. But the alchemist, Yeosang had warned you since you were human the heat would be way more severe to you than a normal she-wolf. Expressing it might feel like being stabbed or disembowelled. Lovely...

You washed your face with ice-cold water multiple times to try and cool the heat rushing through you but nothing was helping. You felt like you were losing your mind and you had no idea what to do, or how to fix it. All you knew was you needed your mate and needed him now.

Maybe a shower would work? But wait... Why were you now standing under the showerhead fully clothed? When did you even turn the shower on let alone get in? Your mind was jumping, hazing. Everything was happening so quickly yet standing still at the same time. You cried, sobbing out for Yunho. Crouching down you let the cold water spray on your hunched back as you hug your knees. The headache was bad and the cramps were worse. Your body was shutting down, making you wonder if this heat could kill you if not looked after.

You couldn’t let your mind slip any further, suddenly hearing the bathroom door being slammed open. A large, beefy Yunho came rushing into the shower. He wasn't wearing a shirt, probably not caring to fully dress when he turned back into his human form. His jeans were getting soaked from the water as he bent down to grab your waist, pulling you up to stand on your feet. You wanted to fall back down but his large frame caged you, holding you tightly so you wouldn't slip. His mouth found your neck sucking on just the right spot. You knew from the little research you had done that it would of most likely been the spot where your glands had been if you were a she-wolf and it was also the spot on your neck that he would mark when you get bounded as soulmates.

He had yet to do so, worried it might affect you if he would knot you. So Instead, when he found the urge to mark you when you both were having sex in the past, he would bite the pillow next to you or the couch arm, or even his own hand. Never would he sink his fang in your sweet soft flesh. His lips kiss along your jugular making you whimper. The small bit of pleasure was sending your mind into a spin. He managed to push you against the wall, tugging at your wet clothing to get it off your shaking body. He would kiss your cheeks, then your forehead, then the corner of your mouth. He would whisper just above the sound of the shower, ‘My pretty pup,’ ‘Let me take care of you,’ ‘That’s it baby, just breath.’

He threw the wet fabric out of the shower making it land on the floor somewhere out of sight. He took this moment, to gaze upon your beautiful body. He could smell you dripping down your leg, making him groan. It was enough to feel the tightness in his jeans get worse. He wanted nothing more than to lose control and knot you like he should. But you were human. Such a fragile thing. Not like a she-wolf that could take his strength. But he had no idea that was exactly what you needed at this moment. “Yuyu please, help me. It hurts.”

The cramps were becoming worse when not his touch was soothing some of the aches in your joints. You needed him inside you, desperately. “Please, I need you inside…” Fuck… dirty talk was something you rarely did, finding it too embarrassing to do. Yunho on the other hand was born to be filthy. He loved watching you squirm by the sheer motion of his voice telling you what he wanted to do to you. How he was going to defile you.

“Yeah, pup? You need my cock inside your soaking cunt?” he wanted more from you. Picking one of your legs up so he could stand close to you, rubbing his red angry tip along your slit.

“Yes please, fuck…hmm, I need you so badly. Please Yuyu.” Your soft whines got his heart reeling, pushing inside you with little effort as your heat soaked your cunt was perfect for him to slip in. He completely bottomed out in a second making you feel so unbelievably full. The ache in your body was gone for a moment, sweet relief was granted to you. But the cramps were soon coming back making you scream “Fuck me Yunho. Please hurry.”

Who was he to deny his mate, thrusting at a slow steady pace. Your hands gripped his wet biceps as the shower head was directly pouring in between both of you. The stimulation of the running water on your clit, helped your high draw closer. Yunho picked up your other leg, smoothing your body against the wall to fuck you at a harsher angle making your head fall back to hit against the tiles.

Your lover's face buried in your neck, licking and sucking on any flesh he could get to. Everything was perfect but you needed just one more thing which Yunho seemed to know, reaching down to press his thumb on your clit making you gasp clamping down on his cock while you came hard. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. YUNHo!”

“That’s it pup, come on your mate's cock. Let me feel you come around me.” His voice growled in your ear biting at your ear lobe. He moved backwards slightly letting you wrap your arms around his neck so you could bury your face in his neck this time. You sucked on his rough skin creating your very own mark on his neck. You might not be a wolf but you certainly could still leave your mark.

“I’m coming Yuyu please!” You crashed hard, clenching around him. He kept fucking up into you, making your juices squish and squelch around his cock, dripping out onto his legs. But nothing was stopping him. He turn off the shower, needing to fuck you from a different angle.

“Hold onto the sink pup. I’m not done with you yet.” he bent you over the cold sink, making you shiver at the freezing sensation on your sensitive nipples. His cock sunk back into your quivering hole, gifting you a low grumble that ripped through Yunho’s chest. It was almost animalistic, beast-like. His like wolf was taking over. “Fuck sugar, you feel so good. So tight. My perfect pup.”

“Y-hmmm Yun…” Your hips slammed against the counter surely creating indents in your skin that would definitely bruise by the morning. His nails dug into your flesh, making crescent moon shapes while his thrusts got fast as soon approached his edge. Just a little more. Just some more and you had just had perfect timing. “Please Alpha, I need your cum inside me. Please fuck me harder. I want your knot.”

You had no idea where the name came from or why your brain was screaming at you to somehow present for him. To make him know, he could do anything to you. The name slipped off your tongue perfectly and it made his wolf howl. His hips jacked in an inhuman speed, snaking his hand around your throat he growled pooled in your ear. “Alpha hmm? You want your alpha to knot you pup? Mate you? Breed you, fill with his pups?”

Your hand banged against the mirror, smashing a crack into it but not breaking it entirely. Yunho used his hand that was on your hip to cage yours on the said mirror. Linking fingers with you as his thrusts got harder but stuttered through his unstability. “You want my mark sugar? Want to let every other wolf know you’re mine? Fuck just imagining you full and round with my pups makes me want to fuck you all night.”

“Please alpha, Make me yours.” Your cries were music to his ears. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Your his human mate, wanting to be marked, knotted and bred. God, could you get any more perfect.

“It’s okay baby when I’m done, you’ll be leaking my seed for days.” His hand got tighter on your jugular while his lips kissed along your shoulder blades before teasingly nipping at where he would mark you. Everything was so overwhelming, your cramps and all the pain you had felt were washing away being replaced with nothing by Yunho’s scent and touch.

“I’m gonna come, Alpha!” Your choked moans were breathy and short. His hand finally let go of your neck, grasping back on your hip to hold himself up. His fangs grazed your soft skin before he pierced your flesh, letting tears pool on the corners of your tears while he slowed his thrusts to empty his seed deep inside you. you came crashing down soon after. His cock growing, stretching you out, gifting you a new form of pleasure.

“That’s it Pup, deep breath.” He licked your wound, tending to it with extra care while his hand on your hip rubbed circles on your bruising skin. He lifted your left leg up, tilting it towards his body as he sat up straight, turning you around until you could wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Now facing him, he brushed your hair out of your face, littering you with kisses. You hummed, feeling slumber taking hold of you. “Come on pup. Let’s get you in bed.”

Walking with his cock still inside you was more than uncomfortable and he should have definitely not knot you on the bathroom room counter next time. But as he plopped you on the with him next to you, he helped you cuddle up to him, wrapping you in his scent. “Do you really want my pups…”

“Hmg Fuck sugar…” Yunho had to groan at the fact you didn’t call them kids but pups. Your pups. He suddenly wanted to fuck you again. Maybe when his knot dies down he will but for now, he needs you to rest. “Of course, I want our pups baby. I plan on spending the rest of my life with you.” He kissed you slowly, passionately. Your hand cupped his hand, smiling wide at his low giggles. Your legs wiggled suddenly straddling him. “Come on baby. You need to rest.”

You sat up, drawing circles with your hips. Yunho groaned gripping your waist tightly, bucking his head backwards. “I don’t need to rest. I want more….” You leaned down kissing his cheek before whispering. “Alpha….”

-♥︎

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farter-imperator · 7 months ago

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@everybodyshusband had me thinking about pious chronically ill Dew today.

Dew, stuck in the infirmary on long term care. Too unwell to be without around the clock medical supervision.

As he can't make it to Mass most weeks, the Papas come to him instead.

Copia, sat by his bed, reciting from the Satanic Bible while holding Dew's hand.

On another occasion, Dew sitting on the edge of his hospital bed while Primo kneels before him and washes his feet in a metal basin of unholy water.

Secondo helping Dew kneel and pray with him at his bedside, a prayer pillow (made by Cumulus with a small 'D' embroidered in the corner) under his knees to stop the ache.

Terzo blessing him before every procedure, clasping his hands over Dew's in prayer and whispering all the blessings he can think of in English, Italian, and Latin.

Omega allowing Dew to have a small altar to Baphomet in his infirmary room. Just a statuette, some electric candles (real candles aren't good when you're in a room with a patient that needs oxygen therapy), and a small copy of the Satanic Bible.

Dew standing in front of the altar, holding himself up on his walker, just staring at the altar proudly.

Dew with veils to wear when he feels strong enough to go to Mass. Sat at the back of the Cathedral, head bowed solemnly the entire time, Omega sat beside him gently rubbing his back. He prays silently to himself throughout the whole service, listening to the Papas but unable to be broken out of the trance. Omega knows what Dew's asking their Unholy Creator.

He never brings it up with Dew.

#ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus #headcanons #my works #dew #dewdrop #chronically ill ghouls #Omega #Primo #Secondo #Terzo #Copia

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the-californicationist · 11 months ago

Text

he trims his beard

Pirate!Price/Reader

God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...

MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference

Summary:

Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.

The Mediterranean Sea, 1708

“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident.

You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.

You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on.

The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner.

He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin,

“C’mere, girl.”

You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.

“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand.

He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,

“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”

He handed you the razor and you took it from him,

“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”

You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation.

As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,

“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”

His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare.

“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”

He smiled,

“Alright, love.”

He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight.

At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him.

You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,

“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.”

“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion.

He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple.

“Is that so?” The captain purred.

“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”

“Ah, I see.”

He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.

“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”

“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”

He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,

“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”

You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,

“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”

“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”

“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed.

“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”

You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints.

“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”

“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”

“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly.

It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again.

“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”

He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.

“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”

“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”

“Never. You have my word.”

Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you.

“I accept.”

“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”

“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”

“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air.

You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core.

“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there.

“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again.

He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face.

“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”

It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth.

“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”

You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.

“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.

“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.

“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”

He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,

“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”

“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”

He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches.

“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core.

“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”

You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him.

“What do you ask of me, my love?”

“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #john price #cod #captain price x you #pirate price

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