#i don't expect to use that tag very much but i figure i should at least make it lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sanguineterrain · 8 days ago

Text

knight in shining helmet | jason todd

Summary: You're a princess who's visiting Gotham City. You weren't loving it to begin with—then you of course had to get kidnapped. Needless to say, your expectations of the night are in hell. You're hoping, at least, that you'll be rescued by the famous Batman. Instead, it's the infamous Red Hood that finds you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x princess!fem!reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings/tags: kidnapping, rescue, reader and jason don't get along at first, violence, drugging, meet-ugly, 7-eleven food as a courting strategy, kissing, softie jason (he always makes an appearance somehow!), strangers to...not-so-strangers.

the divider

You suppose that, for a princess, you ought to have expected a kidnapping to pan out at least once in your life.

You just didn't think it would happen tonight. In Gotham City. A place you weren't loving to begin with.

“Unhand me!” you scream as soon as your taker's filthy, sweaty hand leaves your face. “You'll be executed for this!”

You're not actually sure of Gotham's death penalty policy, but you feel like it's something you should throw in. In any case, the three men who've dragged you away, tied you up, and bruised you in the process, should be a little more afraid of getting caught.

“Batman will find you,” you add. “He'll save me.” You've heard great tales of Gotham's hero. If anyone can help you, it's him.

That makes one of them pause. But the ringleader sneers at you. “If he finds us. He's got a lot on his plate every night, ya Majesty.”

“I am a priority guest in this city, of course he would—”

“Shut her up,” the leader snaps, and suddenly, you're being gagged. Disgusting. Completely unsanitary. You don’t want to imagine if the gag has ever been washed.

You keep screaming and fighting through the gag until a needle pricks your neck. Your terror spikes as you realize there's suddenly an ultimatum to fear: what if Batman doesn't reach you in time?

That's your last thought as the drug renders you unconscious.

When you awaken, it's still nighttime. Nearly pitch black, except for a dim lightbulb in the center of the room. It looks like you're in some kind of warehouse. You can't see much of anything and it makes you claustrophobic. Your head aches and your vision is blurry, and your cheek is pressed against a grimy floor. You just want to go home.

You try to sit up first, but that nearly makes you throw up, and you do not want to throw up through this ratty gag. So you swallow the feeling and close your eyes, waiting until the nausea passes. You open your eyes and they begin to adjust to the darkness. You’re alone, which confuses you.

Then you spot the explosives hooked up at the bottom of your dress.

The good news is that your kidnappers aren’t here. The bad news is that the reason they aren’t here is because they can remotely explode this place and you inside of it. If they don’t get the ransom they’re no doubt demanding, tonight will be your first and last night in Gotham.

Another thought chills you to your bone: what if the explosives are set to go off whether they get the ransom or not?

You squeeze your eyes shut as the tears come. You’re going to die.

But wait. Maybe not. Surely, Batman is looking for you. And his young, brightly-colored companion. You never understood that color palette choice.

They’ll save you. Your father has no doubt alerted authorities. You’re the most important person in the city tonight! Of course people are looking for you.

Yes, you’ll be saved, the criminals will be punished to the highest extent of the law, and you’ll be escorted back to your hotel where you can take a long, luxurious bath. That’ll be very nice.

You’ll also never visit Gotham again, that is for sure.

The door to the warehouse rolls open with a boom. You flinch and squint, trying to make out the figure. If it’s your kidnapper, you want to act like you’re still asleep. You think you saw that trick in a film at the cinema you snuck out to watch when you were young. You didn’t catch the whole film, though—you were found out by your guards before you could. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if you’d watched the whole film!

As the figure gets closer, you realize firstly that he’s a lot bigger than your kidnappers. You sigh in relief. Batman.

“‘Lo?” asks a gruff voice. “Anybody here?”

You shout through your gag. You can’t make out a face, but it’s alright. Relief floods you. You’re saved.

Your savior jogs to you. You tilt your head as you make out a… red helmet? With glowing eyes?

Wait a minute.

“Holy shit,” Not-Batman says. He pulls out your gag first. “Y’okay?”

Realization strikes you; you recall a story one of the party guests shared earlier in the night about a crime lord and his terror on Gotham.

"You're that terrible gangster that left a duffle bag of heads!" you blurt.

"In the flesh," he says, tapping the barrel of his gun to his helmet in a salute. Red Hood. “You don’t look very happy to see me, all things considered.”

“I don’t want your help!” you say, wriggling away from him. “I’m in an alliance with The Batman!”

He tilts his head. “‘S that so? What alliance would that be? Beauty Pageant Runaways For Bats?”

“I am not a beauty pageant contestant,” you say hotly. “I am a princess, and I have a small militia looking for me.”

He kneels in front of you, holstering his gun. His one of many, many guns. Your skin itches with sweat and adrenaline as he approaches. Those glowing eyes in his helmet flip your stomach. This is all wrong. You're supposed to be saved by a hero, not an outlaw. A criminal.

“Princess, huh?” Hood nods. “Ah, yeah. I heard somethin’ about that. They took you from the Plaza. Just my luck that I’d run into ya.”

“You mean, you weren’t actively looking for me?” you ask in a small voice.

“Nope. You’ve got every vigilante and cop in the city looking for you, Your Highness. I came in here ‘cause I smelled motor oil.”

Now that he’s found you, what does he plan to do?

“Are… are you going to release me?” you ask.

“Depends. Is this place rigged to blow?”

“My dress,” you say, unsure whether you should let him know about the explosives. A man who leaves severed heads in a duffel bag doesn’t seem wrapped up too tightly.

“Hm?” Hood lifts your skirt slightly. He whistles. “Damn. This is some excellent work. Whoever did this is a pro demolitions expert.”

His praise doesn’t comfort you, oddly enough.

“Is it live?” you ask.

“Doesn’t look like it. And I’ve got a lot of experience with explosives. Just stay still for now.”

Hood squats and pulls out a knife. You shift. He's bigger than you even like this, crouched at your level. His shoulders nearly block your entire view.

“Who were they?” he asks.

“Who was who?”

“The people that took you.”

“I don't know. They were wearing masks. Three men,” you say, frozen as he takes the knife to your feet.

“Mm.”

Hood begins to cut the ropes around your ankles. You delicately point your feet, unsure if he'll slip and get you.

Your lip curls. "Where's Batman? Or that boy who works with him? Aren't they in charge of this city? I want to speak to one of them."

“I don’t work for the Bats,” he says, an edge to his words.

“Well, I don’t feel comfortable with you rescuing me,” you say. “You’re a criminal.”

Hood stops cutting and looks at you. "Y'want Batman? Fine. I don't mind letting you wait around for the Bat.”

He pockets the knife and rises, walking out of the warehouse and disappearing. Just like that. Your heart jumps.

"Wait!" you shout, squirming in your binds. "Wait, come back!"

But it's silent. Panic digs its claws into your chest.

"Red Hood! Red Hood, come back! Please!"

You begin to cry out of desperation, tears dripping onto your already soiled dress. You try to pull your feet apart, but the rope isn't cut enough and all you do is worsen the burns around your ankles.

You bow your head and cry onto the floor. You just want to go home. You want your goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton ten-thousand thread count sheets. More than that, you never want to return to this stupid city.

"Are you cryin'?"

Your head shoots up. Hood stands over you, arms folded.

"You-you came back," you say, voice wobbly.

He shrugs. "I had an inkling that you had a change of heart, princess.”

You look away. "You left me.”

"I did,” he says. “But as much as you might deserve abandonment, I'm duty-bound to rescue everyone. No matter how obnoxious of a Batman fan they are."

"I'm not a fan. I just didn't want the morally corrupt, violent drug runner to save me."

He leans down and snaps away the ropes from your ankles—a feat of strength that doesn't go unnoticed. Then he saws the ones around your wrists. "Yeah, well, I don't do that anymore, and for such a pretty face, you suck at sweet talking."

He tosses the rope aside and pockets the knife. You rub your wrists and attempt to sit up. This time, you don’t want to throw up. Success!

“Anything hurt?” he asks.

“My legs,” you say miserably.

“Okay, let me rephrase: anything that'll make you bleed out in the next ten seconds?”

“Um… no.”

“Fantastic. I can probably getcha back to your hotel in an hour.”

You hold out your arms expectantly. He tuts.

“I don’t give hugs until the third kidnapping. Fourth one is free.”

You huff. “You expect me to walk like this? They took my shoes! Gotham is so uncouth.”

“And what am I s’posed to do about that?” Hood asks. “I look like a Payless to you?”

“I don’t know what that is,” you say. “Don’t you vigilantes have a protocol to follow? I cannot possibly walk through this filthy warehouse on my bare feet. I’ll catch a virus! You’ll have to carry me.”

Hood lets out a full-bellied laugh. It’s somewhat eerie through his modulator. You lift your chin, maintaining your composure.

“Oh my God! Highness, you’re a diamond-encrusted piece of work. I don’t carry anybody unless they’re unconscious and I like ‘em a lot. It’s a short list.”

Your brows furrow. “I’m a guest in your city, and I’ve been kidnapped! The least you can do—”

“The least I can do is leave you to rot here,” Hood says, tone cutting. “Or let your kidnappers come back and finish the job. You aren’t in whatever palace they carted you out of; you’re in fuckin’ Gotham, and if y’want my help, you’re gonna suck it up and walk.”

You look away, tears brimming once more. You sniffle.

“You don't have to be so mean,” you say, voice watery. “I’ve had a difficult night.”

It's quiet for a few moments. You've never cried as much as you have tonight, especially not in front of a stranger. A dangerous stranger.

“...Look, I think I got some spare boots,” Hood finally says. “Stay here.”

“Where would I go?” you mumble. Whether he hears you or not, he doesn’t reply, stalking out of the warehouse. He returns thirty seconds later with a pair of ugly, black, man boots.

“Used?!” you ask, voice high.

“Lightly, Your Majesty. They’re my spares. Here.”

Hood tosses the boots at you. You stare at them like he’s flung a pair of rats at you. He taps his wrist.

“Time’s a-ticking, princess. I’m on a schedule. I can always let you wait for Batman. He’ll find ya. Eventually.”

So you put on the boots.

You attempt to stand next, but the drugs and binds have made your limbs weak. You try and fail to get up twice before Hood hooks his arms under yours and hauls you up without a sweat. You squeal, fingers digging into his brown leather jacket.

He towers over you, doubly intimidating now that you're standing.

“Got it?” he asks, arms slipping away.

You definitely don’t have it, and you wobble backward. Hood grabs you again, hand on your back.

“Whoa. Easy.” Hood cups your face, a little rough. You squirm, mind flooded with all the germs that are probably on his gloves. “Look a'me. Look—stop fighting, Jesus Christ.”

“This is no way to treat a princess!”

“Yeah, I missed that day of training,” he says dryly. “Stay still, I'm tryna see if your pupils are dilated.”

“Your grip hurts!”

Hood loosens his grip and manages to keep you still long enough to examine your eyes. He hums and lets go.

“Seems like you’re still feeling the effects. Should wear off soon. Now…”

Hood steps back, but not so far that you can’t grab onto him should you fall again. He gives your dress a onceover.

“So that’s not gonna work.” He takes out his knife again. Your eyes widen.

“What on earth are you doing with that?” you ask, taking a small step backwards.

“Cutting your dress,” he says, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

You gasp, backing away. “No you will not!”

“Princess—”

“This dress is one-of-a-kind, handmade for tonight’s gala. You’re not going near it! It cost seventeen thousand euros!”

“Is it worth more than your life?” Hood snaps. “I don’t have any spare clothes and I’m not dragging a ballgown with three pounds of C-4 attached to it around. You have to be able to move and you have to get on my bike. Now quit whining.”

You sulk as he cuts and tears the bottom layer of your gown. He isn’t as savage about it as you expect: the cut is neat and could even be salvaged in the hands of a good seamstress. The night air makes your legs prickle with goosebumps. Then his words register.

“Bike?” you ask as Hood sets your dress remains aside. You’ll grieve for your dress privately.

“Mmhm.”

“I thought you had a Batmobile.”

“That’s Batman’s car. Hence the name. I have a bike ‘cause I’m a morally corrupt, violent, drug runner.”

Your nose wrinkles. “Can’t we take a taxi? Or call a car service?”

Hood snorts. “No one’s driving to this part of Gotham at this hour. It’s my bike or nothing. Or, of course, you can wait for Batsy.”

He starts walking and you hurry to follow. Hood’s strides are long and you’re unsteady in his too-big boots.

“Can you please slow down? These boots are enormous!”

He doesn’t say anything, but he does slow down, waiting until you catch up before leading you to his bike. It’s a nice motorcycle, you suppose, if you were into that thing. You’ve always thought motorcycles were a stupid risk to take. Being on the road is dangerous enough—why remove the comfort and protection of a car?

Hood’s bike is shiny and cherry red, just like his helmet. He produces a proper motorcycle helmet from nowhere and hands it to you.

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask, inspecting the helmet. It looks fairly clean and unused.

“Hasn’t killed me yet, and I’ve been dead once.”

Is that his idea of a joke?

“You’ll be fine,” Hood says at your silence. “I’ll go slow.”

“Alright,” you say, putting on the helmet. It smells oddly pleasant, like spicy cologne. “Very slow.”

“Yeah, yeah, very slow. C’mon.”

Hood kicks a leg over the bike and straddles it, all muscle memory. His muscles flex as he bends his legs. He pats the space behind him.

Cautiously, you attempt to do the same, but you soon realize that doing that exact move in a dress is probably not the smartest. You hold onto the seat with both hands instead and clumsily try to fold a leg over. It doesn’t work.

“Yo, Bambi. This century would be good.”

“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle!” you say, glaring at the back of his helmet. “You could help me.”

“For fuck's—”

Hood turns around, grabs the back of your calf, and pulls. Your legs part and you shriek, certain you’re about to flash him. He holds your waist as you flail so that you don’t bang into him as you sit.

“What is wrong with you?” you hiss, smoothing down your dress.

“Re-lax, I didn’t see anything.”

“This is highly undignified—”

“Yeah, we don't really do dignified in Gotham, princess. Comfy?”

“No.”

“Mm. Hold my waist.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all ya want.” Hood takes your arms and wraps them tightly around his waist. He’s warm and, oddly enough, soft despite his bulk. “You’re drugged and unsteady. If y’don’t hold on, you’re gonna fly off. Press up against me and hold tight.”

“Go slow,” you say again, obediently holding his waist.

“Yeah, I’ll go slow,” he says.

“Do you promise?”

“Promise.”

Hood turns the ignition. The bike roars to life, louder than you expected. You suck in a breath as he revs the engine and starts off.

True to his word (and what a flimsy word it is), Hood goes slow. He takes gentle, easy turns and breaks at all the stop signs, even though this part of the city is essentially abandoned at this hour. You’re able to study the streets, twinkling streetlights a little too bright to your recovering eyes. But you look anyway, shocked at the dilapidated buildings and uneven pavement. You’re definitely not in the Gotham you were earlier tonight. It hardly looks like the same city.

You turn your attention to your savior. It feels like an odd word to use for the Red Hood, whom you’ve heard enough about tonight. Your father had warned you excessively about what a dangerous area this was, and who exactly made it so dangerous.

But a savior is exactly what Hood has been to you. You decide that, despite his roughness, he still deserves a good reward. Perhaps a Hoodmobile. Or new boots.

Your rescue is going smoothly until you cross the bridge. That’s when another biker turns onto the road behind you.

“Shit,” Hood says, and you’re startled that you can hear him so clearly despite the noise. It’s like he’s in your head. “We’re being tailed.”

Well, that’s not good. You turn around briefly but you can’t make out your follower; you’re too scared to move on the bike.

But then you hear the bike behind you speed up.

“Motherfucker,” Hood says, and speeds up. Your arms tighten into a death grip.

“Hold on,” he says, like you'd do anything otherwise.

Hood speeds up and takes a sharp left turn. You tense and yelp, squeezing your eyes shut. He takes several winding turns and you keep your eyes shut through all of them. The nausea has returned and you’d prefer not to ruin the inside of his helmet with your stomach contents.

“We lose him?” he asks when the road levels off and it doesn’t feel so much like you’re on a rollercoaster.

“Um…” you begin, and chance turning around.

It’s clear for a few seconds until…

Well, to echo Hood’s sentiment: motherfucker.

“He’s there!” you yell, and Hood growls.

“The helmets are mic’d, you don’t have to shout,” he says, leaning into a left turn.

“I see him!” you say, and grab one of Hood’s holstered guns. He scrambles to grab it but misses, surprise slowing him down.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!”

You ignore him and take off the safety. Moving your free arm up to Hood’s neck, you fire. He curses up a storm, throwing in a few words you’ve never even heard.

The shots go wide; one dents a parked car, and one hits a stop sign.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts!” Hood yells and snatches the gun out of your hand.

But your tail falls back, evidently spooked enough by you and your poor aim. He turns on a side street and disappears.

“He’s gone! We’ve lost him!” you say happily.

“Are you insane?”

You wince at his volume. “The helmets are mic’d, you know.”

“You’re so—”

Hood cuts himself off and pulls sharply onto the sidewalk. He dismounts and pushes the kickstand down hard. Then he turns to you, chest heaving.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again. Are you crazy? You could’ve gotten us killed!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” you ask, putting out your arms. “We lost him!”

“No, we didn’t. All we did was throw him off our trail a little. We gotta walk the rest of the way now because he probably fell back to get more guys to follow us. But that’s not the point: what you did was insanely risky and stupid. You don’t know how to use a gun and you could’ve hurt yourself.”

You stay silent, chewing on his words. Hood isn’t wrong, he’s just… loud about it.

“Do you understand me?” he snaps.

You don't reply.

“I need a yes.”

“...I wanted to help.”

Hood sighs. “Yeah, well… just don’t. I’m good at what I do and I’ll get you back in one piece. But you gotta trust me.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. You feel small, but you don't want to cry in front of him again and confirm that you really are just a spoiled, whiny princess. “I'm sorry, Red Hood.”

You sit down on the curb, feeling exhausted. Tonight is awful.

It's quiet for a long moment. Then Hood says, “Don't cry.”

Your jaw works as you swallow hard. “I'm not.” You turn your head so he won't see.

“Christ on toast,” he mumbles above you. “This is exactly why I don't do rescue missions—”

You sniffle. “I'm not crying.”

“—’Cause I'm the world's biggest asshole,” he finishes, voice miles softer.

Hood sinks onto the curb next to you. He scoots in just enough so that your shoulders brush against each other.

“Look, ‘m a jerk. The Bats are better at handling civilians and being nice. You got the potty mouth with a bad attitude.”

You rub your eyes. “I don't like yelling.”

“Yeah,” Hood says quietly. “Okay. I'll try not to yell unless you're in immediate danger. But you can’t pull stunts like that. Deal?”

You nod. “I won't fire any more of your guns.”

He snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. Where’d you learn how to shoot, anyway? I mean, y’didn’t do it well, but you did it. Not half-bad for your first time in Gotham.”

“My father wanted me to learn gun sports,” you say. “I learned how to take the safety off and point and shoot, but I refused to do any more lessons after my instructor shot a duck for target practice. I think guns are uncivilized and destructive, and I don’t condone killing animals for sport.”

“Uncivilized unless you're getting tailed by kidnappers?” You think you detect a smile in his question.

“Everything has its exceptions,” you say primly.

“Ain't that the truth. C'mon, we should get moving. We're, ‘scuse the saying, sitting ducks out here.”

Hood stands first and offers you a hand. You take it, letting him pull you up. He does that so easily. It makes your spine tingle.

“How far are we from my hotel?” you ask.

“‘Bout two miles. If I had my gear I'd call for an assist,” he says apologetically. “Wasn’t planning to save lost princesses tonight.”

“I don't suppose there's any chance that you'll carry me, is there?”

“Pretty and funny,” Hood says. “You're the whole package, beauty queen.”

Your snarky reply is cut off by your stomach growling. Your eyes widen.

“Pardon me,” you say, mortified.

“What, ‘cause you're hungry?” Hood asks. “‘S a normal human condition.”

“You don't know anything about royal manners,” you say, but you're relieved. Your father would give you a tight, deadly look if you were hungry in public.

“No, I really don't. Born and bred Gotham, baby.”

“Showing any signs of hunger or thirst around company is highly undignified,” you say.

“Being a princess sounds exhausting.”

No arguments there.

Hood starts walking. You scramble to follow, and he seems to remember your shorter stride and slows down.

“There's a pretty decent 7-Eleven nearby,” he says. “I'd take ya to my favorite diner, but we're on a tight schedule. Those guys won’t be far behind.”

“A seven and eleven? Oh, I've heard of those!” you say.

“I’m… glad you're so excited about convenience stores?”

“I saw it in a film once. My father didn’t catch me watching this one. It looked so rugged, eating in a convenience store and fighting crime afterward. I've never been to one.”

“I know I shouldn't be surprised considering how much your dress cost but it does kinda blow my mind that you've never tasted anything but the finest cuisine,” Hood says. “Wait, did you say your dad didn’t catch you?”

You hum. “He doesn’t like me watching films that aren’t pre-approved.”

“Wow. Y’know, I could pirate you some movies if y’want. I know a great website for it.”

You laugh. “That’s alright. I manage to sneak out to the cinema more than I used to, now that he’s older.��

“Pretty sneaky, beauty queen.” He sounds impressed.

You shrug, trying to hide your pride. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

You turn on the corner and he leads you through a residential area. A few people outside of their apartments stare at you, but when they see Hood, they relax.

“Red!” a little boy shouts from a fire escape. He waves excitedly. Hood waves back.

“Hope you’re listening to your ma,” Hood calls to him, mock-stern. To anyone else—to you—it would be unnerving.

But the boy grins. “I am!”

“Then why aren't ya in bed, huh?”

The boy shrugs. “Not tired. Who's the lady?”

“The lady is a princess, so be nice,” Hood says.

“Whoa!” The boy gapes at you. You wave at him and he jumps up from the window.

“Mom!” he yells. “Red Hood found a princess!”

You giggle as Hood leads you away.

He shakes his head. “Kids.” He sounds terribly fond.

You stare at his back for a moment.

“They like you,” you say. “You keep them safe. But you're also a friend.”

“Helps to earn their trust,” he says gruffly.

You walk a little more in silence.

“I was wrong about you, Hood,” you say. He doesn't look at you.

“Lotta people are. Nothin’ new.”

No, it probably isn't.

“‘Kay, here we are. C’mon. We gotta be fast, alright?”

“Alright,” you say, following him into the 7-Eleven.

“Hey, Benny,” Hood says to the tired cashier behind the counter.

Benny nods. “Long night?”

“You got no idea.” He gestures to you. “She’s a princess.”

“Sweet,” Benny says. “What’s up?”

“How do you do?” you say politely.

Hood leads you to the rolling hot dogs and other cylindrical foods under the heat lamps. You frown.

“I have had a hot dog before,” you say. “I’m not that sheltered.”

“Yeah, but have ya had a buffalo ranch roller? My brother and I used to get these after patrol. That with a blue raspberry slushie? Heavenly after getting thrown into a dumpster.”

“Well, you’ve gotten me this far, so I suppose I’ll trust you,” you say.

“I’m flattered. Benny, my usual.”

Benny gives a thumbs-up and puts the ‘roller’ in a paper bag. Meanwhile, Hood takes you to the back where the slushie machine is. You watch as he fills a plastic cup with electric blue sludge. Your brows raise.

“Why is it that color?” you ask.

“Tasty chemicals,” Hood says cheerily. “It won’t kill ya, I promise.”

“That would be counterintuitive at this point,” you say.

“I appreciate your faith in me, princess.”

You return to Benny, who rings up the food. “Five twenty-seven.”

Hood looks at you expectantly. You look at him.

“What?” you ask.

“This is the part where you pay,” he says.

“A princess never carries money on her person,” you say, like it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“You–” Hood looks at Benny and sighs. “Why am I not surprised?”

He pays and you take your treats, trotting out the door.

“Thank you, kind sir!” you say as Hood waves.

“See ya, Ben.”

You hold out your slushie for Hood to take while you work on your fried goodie.

“I’m not a cupholder,” he says, but he takes the cup anyway.

“It’s warm!” you say, delighted. “Let me take a bite.”

Hood patiently waits as you bite and chew. You hum.

“Good?” he asks.

“I like it,” you say. “It’s unusual. Is this chicken?”

“So they say,” Hood says. “Try the slushie.”

You take the cup and first take a small sip. It’s cold and sweet and slightly sour and probably full of enough sugar to rot your teeth out of your head. You love it.

“This is wonderful,” you say.

He laughs. “Yup. Told ya, nothin’ like this combo. It’s a classic. C’mon, let’s get moving.”

You walk and eat, and it definitely improves your night, having something in your belly.

“This is just like Roman Holiday,” you say.

Hood snorts. “I don’t think we watched the same movie.”

“It has a likeness. You’re Gregory Peck.”

“Yeah, sure. If Gregory Peck was a street fighter, then yeah. I’m Greg fuckin’ Peck.”

“No, you’re right. You’re much younger than he was in that movie. How old are you?” you ask.

“Twenty-four.”

“Really? Why are you doing this?”

“Took a career test.”

You bump his shoulder. “Seriously, Hood. You’re young. You’ve so much potential. I can tell that you’re smart.”

“Maybe I like doing this,” he says.

You tut, shaking your head. “That’s ridiculous. You could do more. Be more.”

“You’re just fulla charm, aren’t ya?” Hood says.

Your next step is hesitant. Hood keeps walking.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” you say. “I guess I assumed…”

“Yeah, I know. You assume a lot, princess. And you’re wrong.”

“You made assumptions about me! You thought that I was stupid and naive and I’m not.”

Hood stops, turns. “Maybe I like doing what I do, huh? Ever think of that? I meant it when I said I’m not a criminal anymore. I help people.”

“I know that,” you say quietly. “I see how the citizens treat you. They like you. You care for them greatly. I just… I just meant that you could try new things too. If you wanted to.”

He’s quiet for a bit. You keep walking.

“I didn’t think you were stupid,” he eventually says.

You scoff. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t. Yeah, I thought you were a little… sheltered. But you’re smart. You’re certainly tougher than your dad gives you credit for.”

You roll your eyes. “He still thinks I’m six years old. It takes me getting kidnapped to see a city.”

“Pretty shitty tour.”

You smile behind his back. “Oh, I don’t know. The tour guide is alright.”

Hood stops. When he doesn’t speak, you approach.

“Hood?”

He suddenly puts a hand over your mouth and drags you backwards into an alleyway. Your yelp is muffled. Hood puts a finger to where his mouth would be under his helmet.

That’s when you hear voices.

“—single fuckin’ clue. She could be in the fuckin’ Atlantic by now. Halfway to China!”

“China’s on the other side, dumbass.”

You look up at Hood, eyes wide.

Those are your kidnappers' voices.

He seems to understand and nods. He squeezes your arm and removes his hand from your mouth. He points to himself and points outside, then points to you and points down.

You assume that means stay put and don’t try to shoot anyone with his gun. You can take a hint.

Hood slinks out of the alley. You peek your head out to look, curiosity overtaking fear. Besides, you trust Hood. You figure with a reputation like his, he can more than handle his own.

“Nice night, ain’t it?” he says.

The two men turn, looking close to pissing themselves. Good.

“Hood, we weren’t doing nothin’!” one says.

“Yeah, Ricky and I are clean!”

“Oh, really? So you had nothing to do with the kidnapping of a certain visiting princess.”

“We was nowhere near the Plaza!” Ricky cries.

The other elbows his friend. Before you can blink, Hood has them both down on the ground, pistols pointed at their necks.

“You were gonna hurt her,” Hood says, and now there’s no trace of humor in his voice. “That poor, sweet princess. Strapping C-4 to her like a fuckin’ bank vault. Drugging her, tying her up. You fuckin’ animals.”

“It wasn’t our idea, it was Bobby’s!” Ricky cries.

“Shut up, Ricky!”

A shot rings out and you flinch. Ricky starts sobbing. Red seeps from his leg.

“The only reason I’m not killing you two right now is because I want a word with your boss. But make no mistake.” Hood leans in. “You’ll pay for hurting the princess. I’ll make sure of it.”

With two final hits, Hood knocks them out cold. The sudden silence is loud.

He looks at you then, those eerie eyes glowing. He beckons you out. You go.

You look down at the unconscious bodies. “You don’t have to kill them.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’d rather you didn’t. You shouldn’t have that on your conscience.”

“They kidnapped you. They would’ve hurt you had their boss ordered it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I don’t want you to bear that burden, Hood.”

“‘S not a burden,” he says, gently taking your wrist. Your eyes fly open. “If it’ll make you feel better, safer, anything. It’s no burden.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, frightened at how pleased a part of you is at his words.

“I’ll tie ‘em up and send for ‘em when we get back. One second.”

You watch as Hood drags their bodies into the alley like they’re sacks of feathers. He handcuffs them to a drainpipe and ties their feet and gags them.

“So they can see what it feels like,” Hood says, dusting his hands. You can’t help your small smile.

“Ready?” he asks.

You look up at the starless sky, suddenly exhausted. Your limbs feel like lead. “I guess so.”

Hood looks into the distance, then back at you. He sighs.

“Climb on my back.”

You blink. “Pardon me?”

“You’re pardoned.” Hood shrugs. “I can tell you’re tired. We don’t have far to go.”

“Won’t I be too heavy?” you ask. “All that way…”

“Princess, I’m honestly offended. I once carried Batman and my brother to Bludhaven. I’m more than capable.”

“But what about your rule?” you ask. “About carrying people.”

“Turns out you’re not so bad,” he says. “Get on ‘fore I change my mind.”

So you climb onto Hood’s back. He secures you easily, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Don’t choke me out,” he says. “Otherwise we’re both goin’ down.”

You smile and relax on his back. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

At first, it feels like an eternity, waiting for the familiar Plaza sign. You can’t complain, though: Hood is warm and being carried by him is even better than riding on his bike.

You blink, startled at the thought. What are you even talking about? This is the Red Hood. You were terrified of him a few hours ago.

And yet, the rhythmic bumping and Hood’s solid figure lulls you to sleep. You don’t even realize until you’re being nudged and a voice pulls you back to consciousness.

“Hey.”

You’re gently jostled awake. You blink blearily, yawning into Hood’s shoulder.

Oh. Right. You’re on his back.

“Hm?”

“Ride ends here,” he says. “We’re at the Plaza.”

“Oh.” Sleepily, you try to climb off. Hood sets you on your feet. Embarrassment fills you as you become more awake.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. You could’ve woken me! I—”

Hood holds up a hand. “Hey, chill out. ‘S fine. You had a long night, I get it.”

“Right. I, um…” You look up at the hotel. The top floor windows disappear in the layer of fog that’s settled over the city. You wonder what Hood’s windows look like.

“I’m gonna track down your main kidnapper and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else. I’ll kick his ass, at the very least.”

You look at Hood, blinking. “Oh. That’s very nice of you, thank you.”

He shrugs. “‘S my job.”

You nod clumsily. “Right, of course. I could give you something in return, though. Money or, um, firearms. A car, perhaps?”

He snorts. You smile shyly.

“Cute,” he says, but he’s not being mean. “No, that’s okay. I’m pretty set, actually. Doing what I do is surprisingly lucrative.”

“Surely there’s something—”

“Seriously, princess, no charge.”

You bite your lip. Is this too bold? Yes, definitely.

“What about a kiss?”

At first, you think Hood hasn’t heard you. Then he turns to face you in a way that tells you no, he definitely heard you.

“Ex-cuse me?”

“Um.” You scratch your neck. “Well, princesses kiss their knights goodbye, don’t they?” you ask, but it’s weak. It’s stupid. You’re so young.

You think he’s going to just walk away. That would be the kindest thing to do in response to your blunder.

“I’m sorry, forgive me. That was a terrible joke,” you blurt.

“No, it wasn’t.”

He steps forward, close enough to kiss you if he didn’t have the helmet. You look up at him, heart pounding.

“Wasn’t terrible or wasn’t a joke?” you ask, blood roaring in your ears.

Hood’s quiet.

“Haven’t done much kissing, to be honest with ya,” he finally says, not answering your question.

You shake your head. “Nor I.”

“Mm. And y’wanna kiss me? Don’t offer ‘cause you think you owe me.”

“I want to kiss you, Hood.”

He tilts his head. “Y’wouldn’t be kissing a knight. More like kissing a toad.”

You frown. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m no Greg Peck. And I’m no hero either.”

“Do you give this speech to everyone who wants to kiss you?”

“You’re the first one who’s wanted to,” he says.

You inhale sharply. “Oh.”

“Uh-huh.”

You wait. He waits. You both wait for the other to back out. You don’t. Neither does he.

“Can’t believe a princess wants to kiss me,” he mumbles.

And then he covers your eyes with his hand.

You blink, lashes sweeping over his glove. You hear a click, then a hiss of air. His helmet hits the ground with a dull thud.

Hood gingerly holds your chin with his free hand. You keep your eyes closed even though he’s covering them, out of respect.

His mouth is warm and so, so gentle. You barely feel his lips at first, so you press a little harder. Hood doesn’t know what to do with his mouth, resting it on yours, so you take the lead, following what you’ve seen others do and what you’ve watched on television.

You reach up and hold his face. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. You stroke his stubbled jaw, feel strong cheekbones and the ends of curls above his ears.

“Your Highness? Your Highness!”

The hand leaves your face so quickly, your eyes stay closed for a second longer, slow to react. Then you open your eyes and see the empty street.

Your lips tingle with heat. It’s all noise around you, policemen and your guards flitting around you, asking questions, alarmed by your torn dress.

You exhale, disappointment overtaking you.

Your father is in front of you, taking your wrists. “Can you hear me? Doctor, I need a—”

“I’m fine,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. “I’m alright, Father.”

He exhales and pulls you into a hug. It startles you. He pulls away before you can hug him back.

“I am so glad you’re alright,” he says. “The police say they saw a figure with you. Who was that? Was he your kidnapper?”

“No, not at all,” you say, staring out into the street beyond. Your lips are buzzing. “He was my hero.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #princess reader

822 notes · View notes

ravengards-rogue · 8 months ago

Text

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2K notes · View notes

starlitscars · 3 months ago

Text

All you had to do

Severus Snape x F! Reader

Summary: It's a fateful night, already destined to be full of gloom and chaos. What else may go wrong if you don't listen to the the only thing Severus Snape wanted you to do, and show up at Hogwarts?

Word count: +11k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, Half-blood Prince era, loosely focused on the book events, age gap (not explicitly specified at all, reader is in her 20s, Severus in his late 30s), typical violence in the Wizarding World, DEATH EATERS (reader included), fighting, breaking (many things), bleeding, unforgivable curse, Severus Snape needs his own warning, wounds, wine, inappropriate touching (not by Severus), protective! Snape, angry! Snape, degrading, language, angst and fluff and smut (yes, all in one), kinda slow burn (look at the word count), confessions, kissing, unprotected PIV, oral (M), praising, cum play, a bit of rough manhandling, a bit of aftercare, no use of y/n. Let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: I haven't written in ages and this is the first time I do so for the Half-blood Prince. All because Severus Snape is irresistible. I hope you bear with me. You might also check my TikTok content (username: stars.lupin) for more of him and other HP dilfs (if you like). Reblogs and votes are appreciated very much.

Your lack of patience has always been disturbing. Tonight is no different.

The Vanishing Cabinet provides little space for smuggling more than one person at a time. You like to imagine that's the only source of your labored breaths as you stand aside and watch – with a mixture of expectancy and impatience – as silhouettes of familiar faces appear by your side. When the last of your followers drapes the dusty curtain over the Cabinet in a poor attempt at concealing it, you turn with a shake of your head and slip past the wooden door.

It should be easy from now on. The corridor is drak, empty, and you've manged to enter the walls of Hogwarts as unsuspecting as possible. All that you're supposed to do is to take a shortcut towards the Astronomy Tower which isn't too far from where you're standing – the Room of Requirement. It's not, however, the easiest of tasks when a dozen of Death Eaters are on your tail and their master has relied on you to carry them there without attracting anyone's attention. Any sane person would imagine that you had a death wish by accepting it in the first place.

Not only one, but more than ten Death Eaters breaking through the safety of Hogwarts, right under the Headmaster's nose? If you hesitate for a heartbeat and give yourself enough time to reflect on your decision, it definitely is nothing but a death wish.

But your time is limited and it's only a matter of time before the staff realize there are intruders within the walls of the castle. So you don't think of the possibilities as you lead the way and stride down the moonlit corridor and past the numerous portraits on the walls, making a silent gesture to remind the Death Eaters of the plan "Follow me as closely and quietly as possible."

However, they don't abide by your simple rule as their heavy steps is far from being stealthy. When the group of the cloaked figures turn around a corner and reach the tricky staircase that should lead you to the upper floor, you halt by the second step and motion for one of them closest to you to wait by the foot of the stairs so that you can examine the last entrance for any unexpected trap or protective enchantment – which, to your dismay, seems to be a lot of it surrounding every inch of the corridor that directly connected your shortcut to the Tower.

Content with your instruction, some of the Death Eaters snigger and their faces glow with excitement as they huddle and look around for the first time, fully taking in the view of Hogwarts and its eerie air that seems to bother none of them. They don't pay much attention as your shadow disappears into the darkness and you find a hideout away from their prying eyes, letting out the breath that's been strangling you for the past few minutes since your arrival. When you're alone, your steady posture falters for a moment and the anticipation of what's going to happen slowly catches up on you. A green smoky Mark, large enough to be seen from yards away, has been charmed to levitate by the ceiling of the Astronomy Tower. Its penetrative glow easily conquers the pearly light of the moon and breaks through the dead darkness of the night, as if it wants to warn you of the presence of the Dark Lord right by your feet. The gloomy fate that has waited so impatiently for this day to finally consume you whole.

You've tried to not think about him. Him and his final words. But when you're alone and consumed with your fears like this... It's impossible. Your patience is little to nothing, and even that is wearing thin.

All you had to do – which happened to be the same as what Severus Snape wanted you to do – was to stay a safe distance away from this chaotic night, and yet you hadn't paid him a mind when you made your decision. You couldn't, really. The Dark Lord has put his full trust in you and one failed attempt or slipup leads to another, consequently ruining the perfect image you've been trying to craft for him for months.

Taking one more glance at the bizarre shade of green in the sky, you decide that your determination to walk on the same fragile line as Severus still outweighs all the scolding and ignorance he could direct towards you.

If he's going to risk his life tonight, then so are you.

Poor servants of the Dark Lord. Only if they knew what awaited them upstairs, only if they were as invested in this task as you are, they wouldn't be this pleased.

This is all a game of pretence. You won't back down now.

When you're supposedly done with examining the so-called shortcut – and more calm and determined than when you left your group – you retract your steps and emerge out of your hiding spot, not quite catching the attention of the Death Eaters at first. Some of them have gathered around a hairy, reeking figure who is babbling excitedly about-

"... You don't understand. Lots of kids are here. It will be a feast. I can smell the blood-"

You push through the crowd and draw your wand out, glowering at the source of those nasty words who was – much to your disgust – dragging his hairy, filthy hand over the portraits, a sinister smirk dancing on his yellow teeth. If only one of the people in portraits woke up, the whole school would be informed in seconds. And no doubt you'd kill him on the spot.

"No funny business," You hiss harshly, blood rushing to your face at the thought of his unpleasant ideas. "unless you want us exposed." You don't attempt to hide your disgust as you keep on staring him down. His blood-dried fingers pause midair and he scans his surrounding audience for some kind of backup. Seeing as everyone has backed down, the werewolf reluctantly retreats his dirty hand.

A moment or so passes until-

"So strict tonight. Have mercy on us, lady." He mutters to himself, mouth twitching into a nasty grin. It's a poor attempt on his side to justify his carelessness and greed, eliciting suppressed jeers from two of the Death Eaters. But you hear it loud and clear and your wand is poking at his jaw in a blink of an eye.

"You think Nagini will choose you for desert or the main meal, Fenrir? It's going to be a feast, after all." Your eyes trail up and down with repugnance, pushing the wand to dig deeper into his scarred skin to punctuate your words. He gulps in terror and backs down as quietly as possible. You turn to continue before any of them has the chance to spot the faint smirk on your face.

"Brace yourselves for what's to come. Wands ready by your side. This path should be free from Dumbledore's Guards..."

And your statement is partially true.

Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you lean down and march all the way towards the very end of yet another deserted corridor, undoing the protective enchantments and making way for the Death Eaters just as you'd been taught. A few feet away from the spiral staircase – which is located right below the Astronomy Tower – a sudden shout erupts from the opposite direction, bringing your hasty run into an unwanted halt.

"Found them, Granger. This way!"

To be honest, you half expected them to show up here at last. The Headmaster would not let the castle's protection go down without a fight. He wouldn't also let all of this look like a pretentious game planned beforehand and easy to guess by the Dark Lord's servants or the members of the Order, speaking of which, begin to round on you before you can fully turn on your heels.

Thankfully, there is not many of them.

But that doesn't mean it will be easy.

Especially when you witness the stunned expressions of your opponents as they see you not by their side, but rather against them and mingled within a sea of dark-cloaked figures. There's no time for explanations. Soon enough, hell breaks loose and the eerie darkness is replaced with jets of light being shot at different directions.

You fight with reluctance, eyes hopelessly searching for a sign of Severus in every corner. Why do you expect to spot him in the crowd, when all you want for him is to be safe?

The Death Eaters manage to trap two of the Aurors in ropes. A particular curse ricochets off the wall and blows the enormous chandelier overhead, shattering it into pieces. The force of the explosion sends you falling backwards. The stone wall cracks, bricks of various sizes along with shards of glass scattering all over the floor and filling the air with specks of dust. The incident seems to catch the Members of the Order off-guard too.

The pink-haired Auror who had informed the rest of the Members, crouches down to help another Auror whose face you don't quite make out in the momentary darkness.

This must be your chance to reach for the Tower. Calling hastily after Amycus Carrow and his sister, you gesture at the two nearest and mostly unharmed Death Eaters to make a brisk run for the staircase. You are so busy squeezing through the crowd and getting away from the remaining guards that you don't pay attention to a distant wand-waving that sends several shards flying in your direction.

It is probably aimed at everyone who attempts to mount the stairs. It doesn't really matter, as you're the last of the Death Eaters. Waves after waves of searing pain ripple inside you as splinters of glass dig into your skin, inflicting wound after wound on your forearm.

"You're hurt!" Alecto shrieks with panic, making a move to descend and help you.

"Just go up. GO UP. I'll be fine."

She nods and follows your order, disappearing off the view.

You turn your attention back to the chaos, catching sight of two Aurors narrowly dodging flames and spells as they chase after you. That's when it happens. Your knees give in for a split second and you stumble on the second step. Clutching the wand tightly into your uninjured hand, you flick it around and whisper several curses to block the stair.

You can't let this be over very soon.

But then you can't tell how much time has passed when you eventually make it to the Tower. Your head has started to throb with an agonizing pace, and the cool night air doesn't help the fresh cuts on your arm. If you dare a glance over the wooden floor, you'd spot drops of blood on your track. To make it all worse, everyone's attention is suddenly drawn to you. You stand more straight, maintaining an unreadable expression. As it's apparent, your arrival was in the midst of a heated discussion between Draco Malfoy and the Headmaster, whose calm eyes are now fixed on you.

You involuntarily gulp down, hoping your face isn't as pale as you think it is. A wand is aimed at him. He's disarmed. He's about to be killed. And yet all he does is to shake his head incredulously. The pain might've been a push to your delusions, but you're sure it's too subtle for anyone to notice. It's almost as if he's trying to remind you that "He won't be pleased when he sees you here, like this."

Your head hangs low, now finding more interest in the maroon liquid pooling by your feet than anything else.

Oh Severus. He won't be pleased by many things.

"That's right, what you're thinking. She led us to your spot, poor Dumbledore." Fenrir Greyback taunts in a mocking tone, earning the first nods of approval from his fellow Death Eaters.

"I see, and I have to admit it's been quite outstanding on her part," Dumbledore says, pausing for a moment to ponder his thoughts before voicing them, "It must be hurting you. They're putting up a good fight down there, I suppose? I suggest that you leave it to Draco and your friends here, seeing that you have already contributed to their plan..."

Friends. It makes you feel nauseous. These blasted things. All of them reek of blood, sweat, greed, and blind loyalty. If it wasn't because of Severus, you'd never be here.

"No..."

I can't leave it. I have to stay because of him.

"Draco, hurry up. We don't have much time left." Amycus spits, his voice laced with annoyance.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps makes their heads turn. Your heart skips a beat. You don't have to try to guess who it is. Only the person who'd taught you about Dark Arts could pass through the curses you'd put on the stairs earlier. He has a rich, heavy aura about him that effortlessly wraps itself around your whole being, rendering you speechless, breathless and yet alive at the same time.

The helpless shouts and screams coming from downstairs hasn't died down yet.

Silence stretches into infinity as you stand there. Your limbs feeling numb, even paralyzed. He doesn't notice you at first as he grabs Draco by his collar and pushes him aside.

Your eyes sting as you gather your courage and lift your head to spare him a fleeting gaze. He's this close to you. His features are gleaming under the greenish light of the Mark. And yet he's still unaware. Five blinks of your eyes is all takes for it to come to an end. On the first blink, his wand is drawn out and aimed directly at Dumbledore. On the second blink he tilts his head slightly to the right and catches sight of your wounds first. On the third blink he's looking into your eyes. You don't dare to jump to the next one, so you force yourself to stare back, unblinking.

And do you see the tiredness in those sunken, shadowed eyes? His expression is blank, or so he thinks it is. Because you don't fail to detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

When you're consumed by the force of your fourth blink, a pleading voice calls for him and he has to turn and look away from you, who was on the verge of breaking down.

"Severus, Please."

A jet of green light is shot from the tip of his wand, and on the fifth blink you're being dragged down the stairs along with the other Death Eaters, his grip on your uninjured hand only tight enough to reassure you that he's still there. You're still alive.

On the way down, your spinning head wonders whether Dumbledore had assumed Severus would waver and second-guess his decision if his gaze lingered on you a little longer? Was it really that?

"I'll get us out of here. You'll be fine."

You can't make out his face, but his shoulders are stiff. You nod nonetheless, words failing you miserably. He sounds unsure. His voice is shaking the tiniest bit. No one can assume that, seeing as his features intimidate even the fly who dares to pass by him in the air.

The pain is getting into you.

He takes a much needed turn, avoiding the chaotic fight unfolding as you pass the entrance and sprint into the cold night air. The courtyard is dark and your vision is getting blurry by each passing second, making it incredibly hard for you to watch your steps. You try to concentrate, you really do. You don't try to stop him though. You think that... Your presence along with the rest of the night's events should've caused more than enough concern for him.

You don't see why it would be necessary to risk it all again. It's not necessary to break your steps. You'd be fine, because he said so. You'd be-

A jet of red light soars past your head.

Distant voices call his name. They threaten him to stop. They don't know much about Severus Snape or else they wouldn't direct their threats towards him.

The growing shouts indicate that more students and staff have woken up. A number of Members have somehow managed to drag the fight out into the open. In your dizzy state, Severus dodges those shots with lazy flicks of his wand. He's so strong that he doesn't even need to turn to his opponents to know what they're up to. You wish you could keep up with him. You wish you could tell him how much you adore him for who he is.

It's a shame. All you had to do was to stay away from this.

Just as a rocket force hits you hard in the back, everything takes a quick turn for worse. You don't just stumble on your steps. The spell pulls all the strength from your body, your lungs too tight to breathe. You were just a few feet away from making it to the gate. Then you could Apparate.

Someone shouts "Incendio!" and flames of red-hot fire flash before your eyes before you collapse to the dark ground, vision going blank as you lose your grip with reality. The only warm touch that could leave you breathless, but alive, is gone.

°°°

Waking up in a cold sweat might not have been the best feeling in the world. It takes you a minute or two to register your surroundings as part of you incredulously waits for the ache to make an agonizing appearance, burn a hole in your limp body here and break a bone there. But you feel none of it. You might've just lost all your senses by now. At least you're not entrapped in complete darkness. At least you're alive.

The relief confuses you.

"My dear... He was not mistaken with his timing. He's never been... You are awake just in time." A voice exclaims with wonder and relief, pacing the dimly lit room to sit by the edge of the bed. She slowly helps you up in a sitting position.

"My wounds... my back-"

"You know better than to ask me who healed them." Narcissa Malfoy says in a soft tone. Your face must be riddled with a mixture of question and anxiety. Because when she places a soothing hand upon yours and slowly caresses it, you just realize that you've been clutching the bedsheet tightly in your grip.

"Is he- Narcissa, is he alright?" You ask, staring down at the marbled ground.

She smiles knowingly, still a little overwhelmed in her own world. "He is. He brought you here... I was worried for Draco, and then you. I still am... You must have seen- you understand how it all would've been if any of you failed tonight. But you're alright. Severus tended to your wounds. He sat by your side for a while..."

Something stirs inside you. He was here when you were unconscious. Severus Snape cannot be hating you that much, can he?

Narcissa pauses for a moment, swallowing the heavy lump at the mention of her son. She's right. It would've been a living nightmare if you hadn't succeeded in killing the Hogwarts's Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

"When I came in to visit you, he said you'd be up in fifty minutes sharp. Then he left to discuss the matters with the Dark Lord."

He's alive and unharmed. What else would you want from this world?

"Quit pondering the unknown. The Dark Lord is expecting you. You know you have outdone yourself in this one."

There's a glimmer of hope in the pit of your stomach as she leads you to the drawing room. The sound of chattering and careless laughter grows louder with each step. And before you chance a full glance over your surroundings, you're settled on a chair by the all-too-familiar ornate table that has witnessed many secret meetings within the Malfoy Manor.

All eyes turn to you when Voldemort announces your presence. Severus is in your line of vision, right by his side. An uncomfortable, cold shiver ripples inside you. You don't dare to let your gaze land on him, not yet.

The difference with your usual meetings is that there is no palpable sign of fear or gloom in the air now. There are several glasses upon a tray, filled with bloodred wine and floating around the table, except that no one is really holding it. It's charmed to move on its own accord. When it pauses by your side, you don't hesitate to pick a glass, draining it all at once.

Your companion Death Eaters snigger triumphantly. Their manners are careless, full of greed. It's almost as if they have just conquered the whole Wizarding World. The rough surface of their unbearable faces is consumed by liquor, drunk eyes roaming up and down your body to the point that it disgusts you to the core. It's an unpleasant experience, to say the least.

If only you could draw your wand out and leave a hole in their chests.

"I must say I am honored by your presence." Voldemort says at once, his pleased expression fixated on you. He extends a hand towards the crowd. The horrid noises die down as he continues. "Here our friends were thinking it would be an utter disgrace if you didn't get to share this victorious moment with us."

The comfortable silence lasts only for a moment. Several Death Eaters howl and thump their fistson the table, voicing their agreement with the Dark Lord's statement.

How very charming.

You place your glass down, fighting to gain your composure as you bow your head down.

"The honor is all mine, my Lord..."

Finally, your desperate gaze wavers and finds Severus. He is staring straight ahead. No scolding, no frowning, no nothing. It breaks you harder than the chandelier you'd witnessed hours ago. It cuts through your skin sharper than the shards you'd endured. It's salt to an open wound. You avert your eyes and settle them back on Voldemort who happens to have stood up, nodding his approval at your words. You maintain a respectful smile.

But who are you decieving? You're barely there. The only person you care about is avoiding you.

"However, I require complete heedfulness from you in your next missions – one of which happens to be very soon on your part – and should you need any assistance or advice, Severus here feels much obligated to help you. I trust him to be your partner in your upcoming task." Voldemort states as his skinny fingers trail over the huge snake climbing up his chair. He glances sideways at Severus, expecting an answer.

His beautiful, adorable face is contorted with disquiet. It's buried and gone before his master can notice anything. He forces a nod.

"At your order, my Lord."

When have you let your fingers disappear beneath the table? Why are you fidgeting?

All the heads incline towards Voldemort, glasses raising in midair for a toast.

"To the Dark Lord."

Their wheezing and babbling continues for another hour.

You stare down at your glass, watching as it refills itself with red liquor. Does he ever notice the little details about you? Does he detect the shake in your voice at times when you try your hardest to not choke on your words?

Voldemort is satisfied by what you have done. It should be your best-laid plan. Severus Snape has always forewarned you about early conclusions, but you can't help it when the thought crosses your mind. This has been your best-laid plan to day.

The only difference with reality is that, it isn't. You don't feel triumphant.

A sudden pat on your shoulder breaks your train of thoughts. You give Narcissa a questioning look. She only gestures towards the door, hoping that it's enough to bring your senses back into action. His dark black cloak is flapping as his silhouette disappears in darkness.

You scurry out, hasty footsteps echoing as you opt for the entrance door. That must be the only exit. The hallway is empty and dark. You pause in a corner, calling out his name. There's no answer other than the blowing whistle of the night breeze wafting in through the ground-floor windows. There's no sign of Severus down into the enormous yard or even by the wrought-iron gate of the Manor.

The darkness bugs you as you have to search every possible corner as well as watching your steps. You distinctly remember Narcissa telling you how the level of illumination should be the lowest for safety reasons. Haven't you suffered enough in the darkness?

"Severus, a word... Please."

You quickly retrace your steps, trying another pathway. Maybe he hasn't left yet. You call out again, pausing for a fraction of second to pull out your wand and illuminate your surroundings.

Two big palms appear out of nowhere and shove you headfirst against the nearest wall, the force of it knocking the air out of your lungs. Not giving you a chance to register what's happening, the stranger pushes your shoulders forward, pinning your hands behind your back in an uncomfortable angle. It sends your wand falling and rattling on the floor. You gasp in pain.

"Pick it, quickly."

The rancid voice calls to another stranger by your left. You twist your body from side to side, trying to wriggle out of the Fenrir Greyback's crushing grip.

"Let go of me, you filthy, blasted creature- ahh."

He only tightest his hairy paws, pushing you further into the wall. The cold, iron surface of an ill-shaped decoration digs deep into your cheek. He leans over and grins, his whiskers coming in contact with your skin. "Don't fight it little minx. No one's gonna hear your pathetic whines."

Greyback turns to the other stranger, voice laced with sarcasm and hatred. "Go and fetch more wine, Yaxley. We want to feast like beasts."

You barely suppress a shudder at those words. The other Death Eater seems to nod and disappear down the hallway with quick footsteps, no words spoken.

"Shocks you, doesn't it? I like it when you're frightened."

Your eyes are squeezed shut, heart thudding impatiently in your chest. His mere proximity is making you nauseous. The drawing room is so far from here that you wonder if anyone will ever catch you.

A terrible, drawn-out cry of misery sounds in the distant corner. If you're not mistaken in your miserable state, it's come from the same direction the other Death Eater had marched into minutes ago. The werewolf is too wasted to notice any other sound of the sort.

His animalistic grin only grows wider as he takes in your sight.

"Here I noticed you were leaving too early. It would be disrespectful to not celebrate properly... With a pretty thing like you..."

You try again, scrambling to loosen his grasp on your wrists. But he has just put all his damned weight on you, and his massive frame keeps you locked in place.

"You're sick and psychotic. I should've told- should've, NO!" Your scream is muffled as his hairy hand locks around your mouth. His other hand clawing its way past the hem of your skirt, aiming to feel all the way up to your hips. Tears of despair roll down your cheeks.

You wish you wouldn't live to see this day. It truly is a sickening scene – repulsive even – and full of everything you ever despised. Blood in your veins begins to boil with hatred.

The unbearable weight is suddenly lifted off your shoulders, air filling your lungs as if you have been breathless for a long time. The werewolf is practically thrown against the opposite wall, crashing down with a loud thud.

A wand is illuminated.

Your knees give away in an instant and slide down. You rest your head against the wall, willing the tears to stop.

"What the heck are you doing, Snape?" Greyback snarls, sobered up just enough to sputter an explanation. "Just because you're our Lord's favorite, doesn't mean you could beat up his loyal followers. I was not taking advantage of her. She was wasted and alone. She asked me to be her company."

The blatant lies come straight out of his pointed teeth. You wish your mind was less occupied back in the meeting. Nagini would've wiped any sign of his filth off the planet, as if he never even existed in the first place.

Severus is so angry that you're certain Greyback will have to pick those teeth off the floor if he keeps on mustering up some nonsense. You've never seen him allowing emotions to make an appearance on his face.

But under the dim lighting of his wand, you see him seething. The ferocity in his gaze might set any wrongdoer ablaze. If Fenrir could see the twist of rage and fire in his eyes the way you could, he would've wished to never talk at all.

"You old dungeon bat, get off us now. That slut wanted-"

The werewolf fails miserably. Those slurs are directed at you, and that's what sets Severus off. The next second he's writhing in excruciating pain, squirming on the dark green carpet of the hallway with a beasty wail of pain.

He's Crucioing him.

His rage apparently only intensifies when he turns to you. A slight shake of his wrist has the werewolf howling even harder in agony. But- this time his wailing and hopeless cries are silenced with a charm. No one's gonna hear anything.

Severus knows he doesn't need to ask you to make sure, as he's inflicting enough torture on the wretched brute for putting his hands on you. Still, he wants to stop the giddiness from taking over you. You're light-headed and unbeknownst to you, it's killing him for the umpteenth time in the past few hours.

"Is that true? Did you ask him to?"

His voice is raspy, but not discomposed. You just stare at him. The sheer terror has left you speechless, words foreign to your tongue.

He tries again, more softly. Concern is painting a deep line between his knitted brows. "You should answer me, sweetheart. I want you to keep your focus on me. Did you really want this?"

You shake your head slowly.

"No, Severus. No."

His piercing gaze lingers on your lap for a second or two before he turns. He decides that a broken jaw is Fenrir's payment for leaving two burning red marks on your wrists.

The crack echoes in the air.

Severus leans down calmly, undoing the spells one by one, not in a haste to let the Death Eater feel any kind of relief. Dark hair is covering his features, but his next words are loud and clear.

"Do something as close to this again, and I will make sure everyone lives to see the day I turn your bones into powder and keep it in a stoppered jar, right on the shelf of my cold dungeon. Every. Single. Bone."

Next thing you know is Fenrir's practically running for the entrance door, not even dreaming of looking back.

He must have understood. Severus Snape is a man who keeps his promises.

"I wasn't aware being incautious has become your new luxury."

He states and crouches down before you, examining your bruised cheek with much caution and care before his onyx eyes wander to yours.

"Severus, I- he caught me off-guard. I was looking for you. Wanted to talk about-" You choke back, eyes welling up with fresh tears.

"Don't," He lifts a hand, stopping you before it all becomes too much again. "Don't start now. Not here. Can you walk for me?"

You nod wordlessly. If he's not ignoring you, if he's soft with you, if he's here for you, you can do the walking.

°°°

It turns out that Severus had left the meeting earlier in order to find a safe spot where you could settle for your next mission, he explained on the way. Apparently, it had to be located in a Muggle neighborhood, with the lowest chance of being tracked by the Ministry of Magic or the Members of the Order of the Phoenix. You and Severus were well-known among the Members and after the attack to Hogwarts, they'd be on the lookout for both of you.

Hiding out was one of your missions.

"...and we have to stay here until further instructions from the Dark Lord."

He doesn't really reveal much after that, but you assume that this hiding game won't continue for too long under the circumstances that he becomes the next Headmaster. You can only hope it doesn't happen.

More danger for him is a terrible idea, but you don't dwell upon it. For now.

Then he explained that the moment he returned to the Manor, first thing he decided on was to inform the Dark Lord. He then asked whether Narcissa was aware of your whereabouts and the confused Malfoy answered him with "She must be with you by now." It gave him an idea. A very bad idea. Most of the Death Eaters had already fled. But then, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Yaxley's poor attempt at sneaking the wine tray, two wands hidden messily beneath his sleeve. His first instinct was to follow the Death Eater. He had your wand with him.

The night is not as young as before, but still alive when you arrive to your hideout. It's a small Muggle house, not much into it. A dusty bookshelf, picture frames, a small table and a worn-out couch. Severus insists on using "No magic!" before disappearing in another room. You settle on the couch.

He returns with a glass of water and stands over you, waiting expectantly for you to drink it. The scowl is back on his face and it's permanent, but he still cares.

You drink in silence, trying to postpone what's to come, but those dark orbits are glinting with so much reprimand and disappointment that your throat feels dry again. You place the half-empty glass on the small table. His tense gaze follows it momentarily.

"Is there something wrong with my face? You've been staring daggers at me."

He's been teetering on the edge, and your mere question sets him off. "Many things have gone wrong and you were at the receiving end of them. I believe that your brilliant mind has conjured a good enough reason or two to explain this chaos, true?"

Well, you did not expect it to start like that. You're rendered speechless, so he continues, pacing back and forth on the limited space of the room.

"Let me reason then. Maybe the Miss 'capable of everything' in you wanted to ruin me by showing up to the one place I forbade her from?"

"I don't want to ruin you Severus. I never do."

"Then may I know why your actions have become so foolish and careless all of a sudden?" He seethes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I already explained it. I was caught off-guard when I came looking for you. I was worried sick and... I wanted to talk to you. And about what happened in Hogwarts...," you pause for a heartbeat, fiddling with the rim of the glass. You're not sure if your throat feels more dry or heavy with a growing lump. "The plan went mostly fine. I was being careful. The injuries weren't probably that deep or severe-"

That is a blatant lie. He scoffs, shaking his head.

"Please, I beg your finest pardon to stop there. Because I do not remember you being conscious when I had to choose between pulling the shards out first or tending to the rapid bleeding or mending your broken back. Do I have to go on?"

You shake your head, painfully aware of what he would say if he went on. The red imprints have turned into a pink shade, but not totally faded off your skin. Were you really hurt that badly when you tripped over and fell on the ground?

Guilt begins to wash over you. It has been severe enough to upset him, the Severus Snape who cares about very few things in life.

"I'm sorry Severus. I had to be more watchful. But don't you think I'm capable of more than what you want me to do? Don't you believe I can do more than just 'staying away from danger'? I did my job, well I did most of it- and the Dark Lord trusts me."

And if I wanted to be uninjured, I had to stop myself from thinking too much about you and It's never been easy. Not when you look at me like that.

His steps come to an abrupt halt in front of you, dark cloak sweeping mindlessly on the floor. "Capable or not, trusted or not. I cannot care less about your extraordinary achievements, because you happen to have been terribly careless in your acts of bravery. I made it pretty much clear that I don't want you to put yourself in danger like that, and that was final. But you and your cavalier attitude are too stubborn to notice a thing." He grits through his teeth. Your words and explanations do nothing to help the situation. If anything, he's getting angrier by each passing second.

You know he's being irrational. Severus Snape is totally mistaken if he thinks danger is only waiting for him behind the gates and he is the one who should be allowed to enter.

You shoot back.

"If you have made up your mind about finishing this job, me and my cavalier attitude will do the same. Please do not treat me like I'm defenseless or unaware of the danger, and it should only be you who is constantly risking everything. If you don't want me to be hurt, I'm letting you know that keeping me sheltered and away from you is the greatest pain. I want to fight by your side, Severus."

He lets out a frustrated growl, eyes narrowing.

"Merlin... why are you being so foolish? I just do not understand... You're asking to get yourself killed. What are you thinking? Or are you just not thinking at all?"

"I'm thinking that I can handle it just fine," You insist, stubbornly.

"You can handle it just fine," He repeats in a mocking undertone. "How very intriguing. Because if I'm not mistaken, you nearly died on me, not once but TWICE in a row even after I told you I don't want you to involve yourself in it."

You wonder if you're imagining things or that's a teardrop sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the collar of his white shirt. Your heart breaks just a little too much at that.

"That's the decision I should make, Severus." You say slowly.

The air is thick around you and you feel suffocated. Even in your worst state of mind, you weren't tricked into thinking that his aura leaves you speechless and breathless. You really shouldn't let the words fail you. You need a moment to gather your thoughts, and you need it now.

The glass is fully drained before you're standing, mere feet away from his rigid posture.

"Do you think I take pleasure in pretending that the violence doesn't affect me? Do you think I enjoy dealing with those creepy Death Eaters? Do you think it intrigues me when I have to die thousand times in a day, just to fulfill a stupid mission? Do you think I relish in the fact that one of them cornered me and tried to... to-" Choking back a tear, you continue. "Do you really think of me like that?"

"Why? Just give me a reason why you're doing this. Why aren't you being safe?" His voice thunders over the quiet stillness of the room.

There is something about the way he is looking at you. You think you'd seen it back in the Astronomy Tower as well, even though it lasted for a fleeting moment. Now it's permanent. It feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at this precise moment when you begin to realize that he's not shouting because he’s angry.

He’s afraid.

"Because I love you."

As soon as the confession tumbles out of your mouth, you're taking a step back, eyes wide. The three words that had been there, for months or even years, are now out. You knew he was different from everyone else the moment you'd laid eyes on him on your very first meeting in the Order. The day you changed sides, those three words never changed. You haven't just admitted it out loud. You've known it for so long.

Under any other circumstance, he would scoff and make a witty remark or even joke on it, 'love in these times is for fools' and honestly, who were you but a fool?

Love is daunting. It brings grief. But it also brings peace. It makes you feel reckless.

"You- you what?" He falters, voice barely audible and equally taken aback by what you've just said.

"I love you," You declare, inching your way closer. "And I know that all you want is to protect me, Severus. I know that I have been incautious. I know that you are worried, but so am I. My hands may tremble on the way, my knees may wobble, my whole being may shiver, but..." You step even closer, until your chest brushes his. The subtle scent of mint invades your senses. You look up, more sincere than he'd ever seen you, "as long I'm in love with you, I can fight and I will."

You love him.

And you know he loves you.

From the way he taught you extra lessons and always made sure you were taking care of yourself, or the way his gaze lingered on you a second or two or three longer on every passing glance, you know it. The soft edge and subtle acknowledgment that he only saved for you, the featherlight brushes of his fingertips on your cheeks, the way he bothered to heal your wounds and then went on to beat up the ones who had hurt you the slightest... None of it was your imagination. He never did those things for others. He, Severus Snape, had willingly waited by your side when you were on the edge of the line.

You don't have to question him about his thoughts in all those moments. You know.

He has shown you what love is, in his own way.

When you turn to give him space, it dawns on you that he might have put a few drops of those comforting draughts of his into your water. You struggle to suppress a smile, not feeling an ounce of regret after your confession.

"Please never try to stop me again."

"Hush now," He scolds softly, his frame towering behind you. He snakes his arms around your middle in a slow, tentative pace, giving you enough space to back down. Ever the thoughtful man he is, "this might just make the matters worse, but I love you too."

He tilts his head and rests his chin on your shoulder, pulling you back into his chest. His warm exhale tickles your skin. He's too close, too broad, too strong and irresistible that you feel an overpowering desire to ask him to imprison you in his hold for a long, long time.

But you wait patiently. You should have patience. The tension hasn't quite left him. He's barely touching you, but he's there, quietly solving the puzzle of anxiety and fear that has riddled his mind.

A ghost of a kiss is pressed below your earlobe, setting a warm shiver trickling down the delicate skin. He tries again, his hoarse voice now more confident.

"I love you," His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he's turning you around. "and I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life, stubborn girl."

He cradles your face between his large, warm palms. His thumbs brush back and forth over your jawline, a stark contrast to the brutal way he'd argued with you mere seconds ago. He ponders, his eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. When he finds nothing that might stop him, he leans down, brushing his nose against your own. His long fingers travel downward, curling around the nape of your neck. It's torturously slow and thoughtful, similar to that of a snake wrapping its way around its prey.

All you wish is to be his prey. His stubborn prey.

His hands. Lord, those hands of his. Severus could actually smother you with them, and you'd thank him. If you give yourself a moment to ponder the thought, it blows your mind how he has barely done anything and you've already decided to let him be cruel to you.

A sly smirk dances over the corner of his mouth, covered by the stealthy darkness of the room. He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly. It's a chaste kiss at first, experimental even. But he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, fingers squeezing around your neck hard enough to elicit a muffled gasp. Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the cold wall, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved. He doesn't deem it necessary to ask for it, wait for it. Your obscene thoughts are written all over your face, effortlessly guiding his actions.

"So divine. So pretty."

His breathless voice is barely audible, more like a thought spoken to himself as his gaze travels back and forth between your eyes and the lips he so eagerly wants to kiss until he turns you into a swollen, red and bruised piece of art.

His other hand rests over the small of your back, fingers digging deep to emphasize his praise. You whimper into his mouth, all hot and bothered by the warm imprints of his fingertips. You slide your hands up his broad chest and past his shoulders until your fingers tangle in those dark black strands of his. You hold onto him for dear life.

But even dear life crumbles under the intensity of his presence.

"I do not wish to witness what I witnessed today again. Will you promise to be more patient and careful from now on?"

"I'm all yours now. That much I can promise."

It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him.

It washes over him for a split second, the sort of reaction he would have if he were to use a step-by-step instruction to brew a potion only to watch it turn into a totally different draught. It's, however, soon replaced with a sinister desire, creeping closer to the unrelenting hold he has around your throat. He looks at you like he might just strangle you on the spot or give his all to make you feel good. Either way, all doubts and cautious touches are gone in an instant. Up until now, he didn't want to indulge in what he truly wished to do to you. And oh, you do want to be the reason Severus loses his control.

Taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, his firm hold forces you to maintain eye contact.

"That, I can say, is not very clever of you." He states, a tinge of warning, reprimand and lust mingled in his tone. It sends a shudder down your spine. His firm grip on your arm is already pushing you to turn on your hills before you hear his order. "Turn around."

A sudden gasp emanates from you as the side of your face comes in contact with the bare wall. You brace your palms against the cold brick to keep your balance, fighting the sudden urge to grind back into him when he creeps closer, caging you between his arms, still clad in that dark grey coat that you can't wait to see unbuttoned.

But something else is distracting you. You can't fight it from getting into you. Not when it's dark and you're pushed against a wall, locked in a position that sends memories of the prior events flashing before your eyes. You blink a couple of times, willing the blurry images to go away.

You try to focus on the moment, you really do.

His hands rest on either side of yours as he peppers open-mouthed kisses over the crook of your neck, setting your skin ablaze by the slightest friction of his match.

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, closer than before. You have no idea if it's meant to keep you focused on the moment, but then your skirt is bunched up in a fist, the rough pattern of his cotton slacks pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. It helps a little. You barely suppress a gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his bulge between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat over your groin.

"Are you going to stop me or take your lesson the way you deserve it?"

That werewolf was going to do what he wanted if Severus wasn't there to save you. He was going to touch you and no one would hear your hopeless cries.

"Would never stop my master... I would never." You breathe, need and desperation sewn in your words.

Severus hums in approval, "Good," then he brings his hand down to grip your thigh tightly beneath his wide palm, fingers resting dangerously close to where he knows you want them the most. "I shall make it a memorable lesson, then."

You're a mess between your legs, but still pretty much bothered, and Severus is painfully aware of it.

He doesn't relent or halt though, two fingers trailing up over the wet patch on your panties. He pushes the tips of his fingers up slightly, pulling a low whimper from you as they catch on your weeping hole. Then he opts for the languid drags again, feeling the growing mess under his touch. "Is there anything you wish to tell me? Those thoughts are all but bolting in your head."

"I don't know. I- I can't..." You whine, shaking your head. How pathetic would it make you look if he hears about your nonexistent fears and what ifs?

To be honest, you can't hide anything from him forever. Severus could easily read your mind. But he's being patient with you, appearing as nonchalant as ever.

"Is it distracting you? Go on sweetheart. We both know you can tell me what is bothering this pretty head. I'm here to listen." He reassures calmly. Somewhere between the first and last word, his fingers dip beneath the fabric of your panties to gather some of the slick. Then he halts his actions altogether, warm hand covering your mound in a delicious grip, but no friction to ease the tension.

Part of you ponders the double meaning behind his question. Because you're pretty much distracted by the soothing rub of his other thumb over your wrist. It makes the dark wall appear less intimidating than it already is.

You try to move, to create some kind of friction, but he holds you there. 'If you want your reward, you should earn it' was what he usually told you in all those tough, never-ending days of extra Dark Arts lessons. Back then, you didn't know much about him and if the small touches and placating smiles were anything to go by, you can earn this reward as well.

You clear your throat. As painful as it is, you should get the words off your chest. You trust him.

"Back in the Manor... I hated it- I hated the way he made me feel. Him and his- those filthy hands. All I could think about was you, Severus. If you weren't there-"

"Shh, I know sweetheart, I know. I am here now." Finally, finally he touches you with proper care, fingers dragging up the slit and smearing the arousal over your clit. He rubs slow circles at first, all while soothing the near-panic experience out of your body with his unwavering touch. One thing you realize about this man is that he doesn't tease, but rather goes straight to the point. The friction is such a relief. Your knees tremble as his touch becomes more firm and assured. "No one is going to hurt you. I won't let that happen again. Now tell me... you want your master to get rid of those bad thoughts for you, am I right?"

His words placate you. Your nod is quick, without a second thought. It's terribly easy to fold beneath him.

Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it beats impatiently in your chest.

He tuts, not quite convinced. His fingers work faster, making it incredibly hard for you to form coherent lines. Your low moans and whines turn a little louder, filling the silence of the room. The wicked desire in his slow drawl is not helping at all. "My girl should use her words."

But he doesn't give you the opportunity to do so when he fluidly shoves two fingers inside, emitting a gutteral moan from you. Your hands fumble in a clumsy attempt to hold onto a part of him, his arm, his cloak. You take him easily, pussy gripping his fingers with an obscene squelch that makes him cave and let his chest rumble with a sound between a low groan and a curse.

"I, uh- yes, that's right. Please do it."

He hums and pulls out before quickly plunging in again. The sudden force of it pulls you closer into him, if that's even possible. His fingers are knuckles deep, curled in a way that should be forbidden because of how sinful it is. But then he's hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

You practically claw at his shoulders, knees becoming wobbly as the euphoric sensation builds up within your core, the coil threatening to snap at any moment.

But you're making a lot of noise and it cuts deep through the silence of this Muggle house, not aware of the fact that it might give you away. Part of Severus wishes he could use a silencing charm. Instead, his free hand rests on the column of your throat, feeling the way it vibrates beneath each helpless moan, blessing his ears.

You might not see it, but his chest swells with pride. You're a mess, and he's the one responsible for it.

Very reluctantly, his wide palm covers your mouth, muffling your blissed-out cries. "Be a good girl and keep it quite... let it all out for me. I want you to think of nothing else. Just let go." His thumb presses hard against your clit and that's your undoing. Your head falls back, waves of pleasure blasting and rippling over your skin, chest warm with white-hot ecstacy.

You're a sight to behold.

Especially when you're putty in his hands like this.

And there's only so much Severus can do to refrain from bending you over the table and pounding into you senseless 'til the break of dawn.

You pant heavily, still quite entranced by the intensity of the orgasm he just gave you. Pieces of clothing have been tossed somewhere behind, long forgotten. You can't think of anything else.

He slowly pulls his fingers out, shushing your whine at the loss with a chaste kiss. You sigh into his mouth, feeling the thick, stiff shape of him between your cheeks, leaking and leaving a wet mark on your skin. He doesn't rush it as he smears your arousal over his tip and strokes a few times.

You don't brace yourself against the brick wall as he pushes his cock inside you, sheathing deeper inch by inch. He holds you close, left hand grasping your wrests behind your back within the tiny space left between your bodies. He goes a bit slow at first, allowing you to get adjusted to the stretch. You feel so full like this, walls squeezing around him in a delectable grip. He's applying the right amount of pressure in every angle, his grip not too tight to cause pain and not too loose to leave you unsatisfied.

He really knows what he's doing. Everything about him turns you on.

You shudder particularly hard when he pulls halfway out and slides back in, filling you full to the brim. Then his other hand begins to roam around your side, trailing a burning path over your curves. His labored breaths and low grunts echo in your ear with each thrust. He's so large, practically in your stomach as he starts to steadily thrust in and out. Your legs tighten involuntarily when the tip of his fingers brush past the hem of your soaked panties, stomach lurching as it pushes you into a slightly different angle. He curses under his breath.

"Ease up sweetheart," He grunts, voice an octave lower than before. "You'll have me all to yourself."

You try, but it's practically impossible when he's being so good to you. It's his own fault. You should be sorry, because your hunger only worsens as you listen to him.

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, little dove?" Severus questions, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises that fall past your swollen lips. He peers down at you. There's this hidden yearning between your brows, moulded into a crease as you fight the urge to thrust back into him. It's so pathetically endearing. He might reward you later for it. "What are you sorry for? Are you sorry for being this desperate or sorry that you didn't abide by my words?"

A chocked out "Both" is all you can manage.

It feels like he's splitting you in half, but at the same time his actions are so measured and empowered that you have no choice but to gush even more.

"Feels good, ahh-"

"Of course it does." He chuckles darkly, releasing his grip on your wrists. You bend ever so slightly, back arching in display and relishing in the way he twitches inside you. "Needed it to the point that you went through the worst, just to have my attention. It's pathetic."

It is pathetic. But you love nothing more than his undivided attention on you.

His wide palms find home on your hips and he begins to pound into you without any reservation, any inhibition. His pace is relentless. Your legs shake on their own accord, swaying back and forth with each merciless slap of his thighs. The familiar coil forms in the pit of your stomach again, head going dizzy as he gives it to you over and over. The room is brimming with wet squelches and mingled grunts.

"You're mine and I will let every single one of them know it. I will have them bewail their useless lives if they hurt you ever again. Just wait... wait and be patient for me. Can you do that?" He rasps, a scrap of anger returning to his voice. In your flustered state, you barely hear his demand.

His fingertips dig into your bare flesh as he takes and takes. You wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's using you like this for his own pleasure. He's neither suppressing his rage over what the Death Eaters did to you nor hiding his lust over what he himself wants to do to you.

"Pathetic baby, cannot even think straight anymore," He tuts, pace slowing and thrusts becoming heavier. "Say it. Say that you're mine. Let it sink into your stubborn mind."

"Yours, Severus... I'm all- all yours. Severus, please-"

He pulls out abruptly. Your eyes well up in an instant, feeling lost at the sudden emptiness. Severus catches you before you could mourn the loss. His fingers tangle in your hair, and he tugs, forcing you to stare into his onyx eyes. "Where do you want it?"

You've never seen Severus like this. Face flushed, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, hair untidy, and incredibly handsome. There's a dark hunger in his gaze, eyes glinting black beneath the faint moonlight that streams in through the window. It takes your breath away.

Your mouth falls open without a word, tongue sticking out in a silent invitation. You hope he grants it. You'd beg for it if he wishes to make you.

His gaze wanders lower, staying there for one or two seconds. A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before he releases you.

"Naughty one. On your knees."

You're scrambling to obey his order before he finishes it. Your knees come in contact with the wooden floor, hands fiddling impatiently in your lap as you blink the tears away, taking in the view of him towering above you.

He witnesses the slightest motions like this, so it doesn't go unnoticed by him when your searching gaze passes over his muscles and drifts all the way down to settle on his cock, mere inches away from your face. Your eyes widen. It's big, bigger than you had anticipated. His length is glistening with your arousal, veins prominent and red. You look back up pleadingly, the tip of your tongue darting out to lick your lower lip. It feels like you might just faint if he doesn't stuff your mouth full.

Severus saves you from misery by stroking himself a few times. Without breaking eye contact, the tip of his cock slides past your lips, disappearing in the warmth of your waiting mouth.

You sigh, swirling your tongue all around the shaft, tasting a mixture of precum and your own arousal. A lewd grunt emanates from him as you swallow around the length. His heady scent envelops you, deepening the dizzied state in your head. You want to go deeper, not caring if it might hurt your throat. If the pain comes from him, you want it.

So he allows you, the gentle brush of his thumb on your flushed cheek as his cock is buried deeper, lower, louder. He's past the point of caring if anyone hears these sounds anymore. He's more than halfway in when you reach your limit, opting to hollow your cheeks around him as he begins to move in slow thrusts.

You're being so obedient and measured. That's just the way he likes.

He pulls out with a pop and leans down, eye level with you as you catch your breath. His eyes roam over your face, taking in the wrecked sight of you. His thumb smoothes over the crease between your brows before he wipes a drop of tear off your jawline. You hadn't realized you were crying. "Look at you, silent and obedient, desperate to do what your master told you. Was that all it would take for you to listen?"

Seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them. Of course he knows he is your true master.

He stands back up, not waiting for your answer. It's written all over you. Much to your delight, he guides your head forward and you eagerly take his thrusts as he feeds his cock into your mouth, not once pushing past your limits. His breathing becomes shallow and rapid, signaling that he's on the verge of coming undone. He pounds into you once, twice, three times and then you're bracing your hands on his thighs, nails holding onto the taut muscle as your hooded eyes threaten to fall shut. You take him as deep as you can. On the fifth thrust, he stills in your mouth, a string of curses falling from his mouth. He lets out a sound you'd never heard from him before.

It's not a grunt, a groan or even a cuss. He whimpers.

Head falling back as the euphoric waves crash into him, his cock twitches inside your mouth, thick spurts painting your throat. He's a work of art, all you'd ever wished to see in a man. Your jaw is slack, eyes stinging, knees hurting. Hell, even your whole body is limp and overcome by exhaustion. But you're too entranced by him to feel anything less than content. He holds onto you, riding out his high and all you wish for is to do it again and again.

You pull back slightly to watch his expression, more satisfied than ever. One look at his blissed-out and relaxed expression has you aching and longing for him again. Somewhere between your legs, you ache for his touch again, as if he hadn't just wrecked you moments ago. But the sight of him is enough for now. You can wait for more. He loves you and it's enough.

"You're pretty, but prettier when you listen to me, do you know that?"

You nod into him and smile, not quite able to talk as his cock is still buried halfway in your mouth. His eyes rake over your body, confusion quickly replaced with a small frown. He arches a brow, not tearing his gaze from your thighs. You've pushed them together tightly... in search of some friction. Has Severus left his girl unsatisfied?

He glances over his shoulder, catching sight of the unoccupied table in the corner. For a moment he considers lifting you up into his arms and laying you there, so he could gently soothe the ache for you...

But then you're drifting off with his cock in your mouth, body going limp as exhaustion takes over you. He knows you went this far because of him, so he makes a mental note to make it up to you in the morning.

He knows how to give it to you the way you deserve it.

"Will be careful... and, and patient. For my master." You mumble sleepily, arms wrapping around his neck as he envelops you in his hold, lifting you off the floor with extra care.

Severus smiles, gently carrying you to the other room and tucking you in the bed for a much needed rest. "That's all you have to do."

#severus snape x reader #severus snape one shot #severus snape #professor snape #snape #half blood prince #death eaters #hogwarts #order of the phoenix #severus snape smut #severus snape fluff

309 notes · View notes

lendeah · 10 months ago

Text

Thank you very much, Gale. Goodnight.

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Reader/Tav

Summary:

Upon reaching the Last Light Inn, your party is informed about the room arrangements: you will have to share rooms in pairs. Fate has it that you find yourself paired with a particularly charming wizard. To add a twist, there's only one bed. or Gale and Tav relive the "there was only one bed" trope.

Tags: Fluff and smut. They are so cute.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), thighs, frottage, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, touch starved Gale.

Note: This was going to be a prompt but it got out of hand. Anyway, a small gift for the Gale girlies (me, I am the Gale girlies). Also, not proofread and english isn't my first language, so be gentle!🫶🏻

"You will have to share rooms in pairs" Yaheira had deadpanned. After our long journey, we finally reached the Last Light Inn. We were hoping for a comfortable bed and some privacy, but our hopes were crushed.

Yaheira didn't seem fazed by our reactions, her expression remaining stoic.

"After all the blood, sweat and tears we poured into saving you lot back there this is the beautiful appreciation we get in return?" Astarion exclaimed dramatically, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Yaheira's cold stare silenced him. "Many soldiers are residing here, sacrificing their own comfort for our cause. Four of them have given up their bedchambers for your stay. You should be grateful," she reprimanded sharply.

The creaky wooden floors and musty smell hinted at the age of the building, but it was a small price to pay for a warm bed and shelter from the danger of the shadows outside. The group stood in a huddle, debating their next move. Wyll's voice rang out confidently "I propose we stay at the camp like we have been doing.".

Karlach's response was immediate and determined: "What, and die in the shadows? No, thank you."

You let out a frustrated sigh, feeling about to faint from weariness. "Guys, we're all exhausted. We should just accept the offer and get some rest. We practically sleep on top of each other every other day anyway."

"Yeah, but not on the same bed." Shadowheart chimed, giving Lae'zel a sly side glance. "And how would we determine who sleeps with whom, anyway?"

Gale, the ever-practical one, interjected: "Perhaps we could employ a method of chance, such as drawing straws, in order to make a resolution?"

So that's how Gale and you end up entering the old dusty and messy bedroom from the last Light Inn. The single bed in the middle seems to be laughing at us.

Gale sighs. "I knew sharing rooms wasn't a good idea. I should just crawl under the bed." He scans the room, eyes coming to rest on the window, with the dark sky looming outside. "I could sleep out there too." He pauses. "The prospect of such a cozy rest is indeed quite alluring. The brisk gusts brushing against my face, as I gaze upwards towards the unobstructed expanse of the starry heavens. Delightful, wouldn't you agree?"

He moves to get out of the door, but you grab his arm, your voice pleading, tinged with desperation from the exhaustion. "Please, Gale, I know it's uncomfortable, but can we just please do this tonight and figure out a better plan tomorrow?"

He swallows, glancing down at your fingers wrapped around his arms. "I-I don't think you realize just how difficult it'll be for me. This bed's too small, and it's too close, and—I can't."

I look at him with my eyes narrowed "If you don't get on the bed in the next five minutes, I am going to use my maze on you. And let me tell you, it hurts"

He looks at me dumbfounded ."...You wouldn't?" You give him a pointed stare. Of course, you don't mean to hurt him, but you are too tired to fight or move for that matter.

He swallows, looking you up and down again. Then he nods and turns toward the bed. "Uh, fine. I guess I'll, uh, get on the bed. However, I cannot guarantee that any peculiar occurrences will not transpire. I mean, not that I expect anything weird to happen. Just, you know, putting it out there. Okay, I'll stop talking now."

Your roll your eyes fondly at his rambling. As Gale awkwardly settles onto the edge of the bed, you quickly change into your undergarments and crawl into the other side. The bed creaks under both of your weight, making Gale flinch. The space feels narrow, forcing you close together. There's barely an inch in between, and any movement sends you brushing up against him. You can feel his body heat radiating off him, a little toasty.

"The dimensions of this bed are rather diminutive," he whispers, staring up at the ceiling under the blanket, unable to make eye contact with you.

"Aren't you sharp" you whisper teasingly.

"It's... it's tiny! How do you expect two fully-grown individuals to successfully sleep in this thing?" He says in an exasperated whisper. It is small, though. Feels like I'm being wrapped in a blanket... Except the blanket is another person.

I sigh in exhasperation, "Gale I am trying to sleep for god's sake!"

Gale shifts uncomfortably, trying to make himself as small as possible on the narrow bed. "I apologize, I didn't mean to disturb your slumber. I just...I can't get comfortable in such confined space."

You let out another sigh, feeling a little bad for him. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault, but is it possible that we exchange our positions? I don't mean to inconvenience you, but I feel like I can't relax like this. I can sleep on the edge of the bed, and you can sleep in the middle."

You look at him, one second away from grabbing your maze for real. "Gale, there is no middle, every part of this damned bed is the edge!"

Gale, is still fidgeting on his side.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter under your breath.

"I know," he responds quietly. "I'm sorry." He bites his lip, looking up at the ceiling again. "It seems as though you are now stuck with me as your blanket," he says, turning his head in your direction. "I hope this arrangement does not cause any discomfort for you... I would not want to impede upon your sleep."

At that, you can’t help but smile fondly back at him "It could be worse," you remark softly. "I could be stuck with Halsin and his incessant snores."

"Halsin snores?" He blinks in genuine surprise. "I never would have guessed. Is it disruptive? Like a storm tearing through the night?"

You roll your eyes. "You wouldn't know, you sleep like a rock all night." Your words are playful, as you nudge him lightly with your elbow.

"I do not! I am an extremely light sleeper, in fact, the slightest noise can jolt me from my slumber. It's quite a remarkable feat, really." His brow furrows. "Wait, does this imply that you have observed me in my sleep?" He blurts out. He is now on his side too, both of us facing each other.

A soft chuckle escapes from your lips, banishing all thoughts of sleep. "Yeah," you remarked with a playful smile, "I must say, you look really cute when you're sleeping."

The moonlight streaming in through the window cast a gentle glow on Gale's face, making your heart swell with affection. His tousled hair and big brown eyes look even softer in this ambience.

His mouth drops open, his eyebrows now shooting up to his hairline. "I do not look cute while I sleep!"

"So cute, with your cheeks all puffed," you say, reaching out to pinch his cheek playfully.

Gale's face flushes a bright red and he turns away, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"I—I'm not cute when I sleep," he whispers." I am powerful! A talented wizard, a master of magic. I do not need to be "cute". And I'm not!" But as he protests, you can't help but notice the way his cheeks flush and how his hair sticks up in all directions, making him look endearingly disheveled. You can't resist the temptation and reach over to tickle his middle. "Cutie!"

"I am not!" he protests, giggling as you tickle him. "Stop it! You're making me... gahahaha!" His laughter bubbles out of him despite his attempts to hold it in.

You laugh too, enjoying the sound of his laughter. "See? Cute."

"I'm not cute!" he gasps out between laughs. "I'm... hahaha... I'm powerful!" He tries to sit up, but you pin him down with your hand on his chest. "You are cute, Gale. And you're adorable when you laugh," you say, looking into his eyes. He looks at you, his cheeks still flushed with laughter and embarrassment. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other before Gale clears his throat and lays on his side again.

"Gale?" I call out softly, hoping to break the silence.

"Yes...?"His voice is barely audible.

Smirking mischievously, you decide to push his buttons a little more.

"You know, I have trouble falling asleep unless I'm cuddled up next to someone." you whisper

He flinches. It takes a moment for your request to fully register, and he stares at you with a mixture of shock and confusion.

"...Are you serious? You want me to cuddle you?"

You nod eagerly, a hopeful smile playing on your lips. "Usually it would be Shadowheart offering, but she's not here right now."

"You want—me, to wrap my arms around you, to..."

His eyes narrow. "Am I hearing you right? You're asking me, to hold you?"

You roll my eyes "Yes Gale, that is usually how cuddling works."

Gale looks at you, taken aback by your request. His face flushes with embarrassment as he considers your words. "Um...I-I'm not entirely certain if that would be a prudent course of action," he stammers out, looking away from you.

"Forget it," Frustration wells up inside of you and you let out a low grunt before turning away to face the opposite side of the room.

"Er- I mean, wait, that wasn't a rejection... " He scoots closer, careful not to touch you. You turn yourself, so you are looking at him again. He looks down at you with a nervous expression. "So if I were to, hypothetically speaking, encircle my arms around your form, you wouldn't object?"

For some reason, your heart skips a beat at the thought of his arms around you.

"Well," you respond playfully. "I would probably say something along the lines of 'thank you very much Gale, goodnight'."

He hesitates for a moment before finally inching closer, his arm hovering uncertainly in the air. With a deep breath, he takes the plunge and wraps his arm around you, pulling you gently against his chest. You let out a surprised gasp, not expecting him to actually cuddle you, but the warmth and comfort that radiate from him are welcome in the cold room. You nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear and inhaling the intoxicating combination of an old book's musty pages and his rich cologne, laced with a subtle hint of sweat. You wrap your arms tighter around his soft body, savoring the feeling of being held in his strong embrace.

"Thank you, Gale" you whisper, intertwining your fingers behind his back. "Goodnight."

As the exhaustion of your journey settles over you, you feel the familiar pull of sleep in your body. However, the moment is disturbed by the feeling of something hard poking your stomach. Your eyes snap open and meet Gale's, who stands there frozen with shock and embarrassment.

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers out, mortified. "I didn't mean for that to happen. It's just been so long and you are so close and..."

Your bodies are still pressend, and you try to make sense of everything. Finally, you laugh softly and pat his arm reassuringly. "It's okay, Gale. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." you say reassuringly, though you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"But... but I didn't mean for this to happen," he repeats, still clearly flustered.

"It's natural," you say calmly, trying to put him at ease. "It happens sometimes when people get close like this."

Gale nods slowly, still looking a little uncertain. He shifts slightly so that the bulge isn't pressing against your body as much anymore. "Thank you for understanding," he says quietly. Your heart swells with affection as you watch him; there is something endearing about his vulnerability in this moment. You have an overwhelming urge to pull him close, to shield him from any harm and take care of him.

A twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience as you watch the flush rise in his cheeks, a direct result of your teasing. You chew on your lip for a moment before an idea strikes you. "Do you... want me to lend a hand?" You offer tentatively, gazing up at him with soft eyes and a gentle tone. His big brown orbs widen in surprise at your unexpected offer. You are also taken aback by your own words, but don't take them back.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. You can see the struggle in his expression as he tries to process what you just said.

"I mean, it's completely up to you," you quickly add, not wanting to pressure him into anything. "I just thought maybe it would help alleviate some of your... discomfort."

He takes a deep breath and looks away from you, clearly embarrassed. Gale hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart races at his acceptance. You were not expecting him to actually agree to your offer, but you are weirdly glad he did. "Okay," you repeat softly, moving your hand down to his waist and pulling him closer. You slowly reach down between both your bodies, gently taking hold of his erection through his pants. Gale gasps softly as your fingers brush against him, sending shivers down his spine. You can feel his breath hitch in anticipation as you start to move your hand up and down. As you gaze up at him, his arms still holding your body, a deep stirring awakens within you. The wizard before you, with his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, is more attractive than you had ever realized. His tanned skin is like velvet against your fingertips, and his long hair falls over his face in gentle waves. Each reaction to your caress, every soft moan that escapes his lips, only adds fuel to the fire growing inside of you. Looking so eager for your touch.

Without hesitation, you lean forward and capture his lips in a gentle kiss. To your surprise, he responds enthusiastically, his hands moving to rest on your face as he pulls you closer to him. You deepen the kiss, your heart racing at the feeling of his warm lips against yours and the subtle tickle of his beard on your cheeks. As you continue to kiss, your hands never stops the gentle strokes on his erection. Gale's moans are becoming louder and more urgent. You can feel his need growing as he grinds against your hand, seeking more friction.

"L-let me touch you" he says between ragged breaths.

You smile at him, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the effect you're having.

"I have a better idea," you say softly, moving your hand away from his erection. You take off your panties, and move on your side in front of him again. Gale lets out a small gasp as you straddle him, feeling the heat of his arousal pressed against your bare thighs.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice thick with both curiosity and lust.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips. "I'm going to give you something even better than my hand to relieve yourself," you purr, swaying your hips in demonstration in a slow, enticing rhythm, that elicits a delicious friction between his cock and the warm heat of your thighs and cunt.

You take one of his hands and guide it to your breast, letting him feel its softness and moaning quietly at the touch. Gale's eyes widen in surprise, gently squeezing it but with his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, reaching up to touch your face with his free hand.

"Thank you, so are you," you reply, leaning down to capture his lips in another tender kiss. He seems to find your praise very arousing, as his breathing quickens and he thrusts his hips upward, seeking more contact with your body. In response, you arch your back and press your chest against him, savoring the feel of his erection against your core and thighs.

"I want you so much," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I've been dreaming of this moment for so long but I never- I didn’t think-“ he gasps at a particularly good thrust.

You're not sure how to answer, so instead you keep whispering sweet nothings in his ear. "You're an amazing kisser, Gale," you say, "you touch me so good..."

He moans in your mouth, gripping your hips harder as he keeps pounding erratically. Your hands move to his hair, pulling from the strands and eliciting a small whine from his throat. You can feel the hardness of his erection brushing against your wet folds with every movement, and it sends shivers of pleasure down your spine. You let out a moan into his lips as his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing small circles that send sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Feeling his arousal growing even more, you know he won't last much longer, so you move your hips in a faster rhythm, grinding against his cock with more urgency.

Gale lets out a low growl, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he matches your movements. The friction between your bodies is almost unbearable, but in the most delicious way possible. As you continue to move together, your breaths growing heavier and more ragged, you can feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm building within you too. Gale seems to be close as well, as he begins to thrust deeper and harder into your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. You can hear the slap of skin and the squelching sound of your now wet thighs.

"Oh, gods," he gasps out, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

His body suddenly tenses up as he comes undone, his hips bucking wildly as he spills himself into the soft skin. For several moments, Gale lies there panting and gasping for breath.

"Oh, gods," he gasps out. "That was...amazing."

You lean and press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling at him as you do.

"I'm glad it brought you pleasure," you whisper softly, running your fingers through his hair.

Suddenly, his skilled fingers find their way back to your core. He seems to sense that you didn't reach climax with him earlier and now he's determined to make sure you do. His touch is intense as he circles and rubs against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You let out a moan, arching your back and grinding against his hand. He watches you with intense desire in his eyes as he continues to pleasure you.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with lust. "I am not going to be able to forget this."

His words only fuel your desire even more, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge once again. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you ride the waves of pleasure, your hips moving in sync with his fingers.

"I want to make you feel good," Gale says breathlessly, kissing along your neck and collarbone. "Tell me what feels good."

You guide his hand lower, signaling for him to enter you with his fingers. He complies eagerly, sliding two fingers inside of you and curling them just right to hit that perfect spot. You cry out in pleasure, your walls clenching around him. You know you are not going to last long, still sensitive from the previous ministrations.

"Thank the heavens and hells," Gale groans, looking at me like I am a work of art. Setting a steady pace with his fingers, he kisses down your chest and takes one nipple into his mouth. The combination of sensations has you teetering on the edge once again.

"I-I'm close," you manage to say between gasps.

"Come for me," Gale whispers against your skin, increasing the speed and pressure of his movements.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue against your hardened nipple, you come undone in a powerful climax that leaves you panting and shaking in Gale's arms. He holds onto you tightly as he continues to pleasure you through the aftershocks.

"That was incredible," he murmurs against your skin as he peppers kisses all over your face.

"Yes it was," you reply dreamily, still basking in the afterglow.

Gale pulls out from between your thighs and settles down next to you, his strong arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. As you press your body closer to his, you feel a subtle shift, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you. Instead of voicing it out loud, you turn to him and whisper,

"Thank you very much, Gale. Goodnight"

#bg3 fanfiction #gale x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #gale x tav #gale fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #gale baldurs gate #gale #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #baldurs gate gale

557 notes · View notes

totaly-obsessed · 8 months ago

Text

Big Shoes to fill

Leah Williamson x reader request

pt. 1 here

-> Leah invites her struggling sister to live with her in London, where they support each other through healing and new friendships.

-> A very late pt.2. Please let me know what you think of it! If ya'll are interested I could make a pt.3 of reader meeting the team.

-> Just tagging you guys because you asked for a pt.2 in the comments of pt.1: @the-nameless-queen, @the-hottest-avenger-loves-soccer, @abcdefghijklmmopkrstuvwxyz

-> also a very big thank you to @alotofpockets and @greynatomy who read over it for me and helped with ideas - much love!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Leah sat there, stunned by the weight of her sister's words. She had always known that things weren't easy for you, but she never imagined the extent of the struggles you faced. The guilt of not being there for her little sister when she needed her the most washed over the footballer like a tidal wave.

"I'm so sorry, Bug," Leah whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were going through all of this alone."

You shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, ignoring the shame that showed in the redness of your face. "It's okay, Lee. I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

Leah shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "No, it's not okay. I should have been there for you. I should have noticed. I'm supposed to be your big sister, for God's sake."

You reached out and took Leah's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're here now, that's what matters."

Leah sniffled, trying to compose herself. "I promise, things are going to change. I'll talk to Mom and Dad, and we'll figure this out together."

You managed a small smile, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. "Thanks, Lee. "I appreciate it."

Leah pulled you into a tight hug, holding onto you as if she never wanted to let go. "I love you, Bug. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And in that moment, as the rain continued to fall outside, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn't have to face them alone. With Leah by your side, you felt stronger than ever before. And together, you were ready to take on whatever life threw your way.

When she was back in London and your parents were home again, Leah couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily on her shoulders. She knew she couldn't let her sister continue to struggle alone, not when she finally understood the depth of your pain. After numerous conversations with her parents, Leah made a decision.

"Bug, I want you to come live with me in London," Leah said one evening when you were staying with her after watching an Arsenal game, her voice filled with determination.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such a sudden idea. "But what about Mom and Dad? Won't they be worried?"

Leah shook her head. "They understand, they want what's best for you, and right now, that means being with someone who can support you fully."

A mixture of emotions washed over you, uncertainty mingled with relief. The thought of leaving your childhood home was daunting, but the prospect of starting fresh in a new environment with your sister by your side was undeniably appealing.

"I don't know, Leah. What about your life here? Your career?" you asked, concerned about uprooting your sister's life for your sake.

Leah smiled reassuringly. "My career doesn’t need to stop. You're my family, and family comes first. Plus, I could use some company in this big old house of mine."

Unbeknownst to you, she actually wasn’t all that alone in her house, a certain brunette spent most of her time there as well.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the depth of Leah's love and sacrifice for you. "Thank you, Leah. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Leah pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you close. "You'll never have to find out, Bug. We're in this together."

And so, with the support of your parents and the unwavering love of your sister, you packed your bags and prepared to embark on a new chapter in London. As you looked out the window of the car, watching the familiar scenery of your hometown fade into the distance, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead with your sister by your side.

Things were finally looking up.

—

Leah steered her car through the familiar streets of London, eventually turning onto a quieter road lined with rows of cozy houses. The neighborhood exuded a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the bustling city center. As Leah parked the car in the driveway of her quaint home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, you stretched your limbs and took in the familiar surroundings. Leah's house, though not extravagant, emanated a sense of warmth and comfort that immediately put you at ease. The exterior was adorned with climbing ivy and cheerful flower beds, adding a touch of charm to the neighborhood.

With your bags in hand, you followed Leah up the front steps and through the front door. The air inside was filled with the comforting scent of your sister and well-loved furniture that you remember from her old room. The living room greeted you with plush couches arranged around a cozy fireplace, inviting you to sink into their embrace.

It’s surprisingly tidy here, but you could make out two empty cups on the coffee table, an arsenal sweatshirt with a 13 on it, and so many sneakers by the door, that they couldn’t just be Leah’s.

"Here we are," Leah said, turning to you with a smile. "Home sweet home."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of gratitude for the familiar surroundings. "It's perfect, Leah. Thank you for inviting me."

Leah's smile widened as she led you through the house, showing you to your temporary room. The space was simple but inviting, with a comfortable bed and a large window overlooking the lush backyard. Of course, a little goal was set up. Was this even Leah’s home if there was no goal?

—

The first day with Leah was a whirlwind of emotions and new experiences. As you woke up in her cozy home, sunlight filtering through the curtains, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the warmth and comfort of your surroundings. This felt more like home than the place you had grown up in.

Downstairs, Leah greeted you with a warm smile and a hearty breakfast (the only thing she was confidently able to make), eager to show you around her neighborhood and introduce you to her favorite spots. Together, you explored the quaint streets, stopping to chat with neighbors and browse through local shops before getting a snack in a quaint little café.

With a “Lia always takes the croissant, they’re good.”, you had been convinced easily enough. And the Swiss was correct, the croissants were indeed very good.

Throughout the day, Leah made sure you felt right at home, regaling you with stories from her own adventures in the city and sharing her favorite memories of growing up together. With each passing hour, you felt more and more at ease in your sister’s company, grateful for her unwavering support and understanding.

As the day drew to a close, you found yourself curled up on the couch with Leah, sipping hot tea and sharing laughs over stories of her teammates. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your sister, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But it would not be life if things didn't get worse again.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself slipping deeper into the shadows of your own mind. Despite Leah's best efforts to create a loving and supportive environment, the wounds from your past continued to fester, leaving you feeling lost and alone.

Trauma and abandonment issues weighed heavily on your soul, casting a dark shadow over even the brightest moments you shared with your sister. The memories of being ostracized and bullied at school haunted you, triggering waves of anxiety and self-doubt that seemed impossible to overcome.

Leah watched with a heavy heart as you retreated further into yourself, the light in your eyes dimming with each passing day. She tried to offer words of comfort and encouragement, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost in the endless void of your pain.

It hurts to see you suffer, not knowing how to help. So she chose to confront you after talking to Lia in depth about it, not knowing what to do. She ended up seeking a conversation on how to change things, on how to help you. Together, you found a therapist who specializes in childhood trauma and abandonment issues, hoping that they could provide you with the support and guidance you so desperately needed.

As you began your journey towards healing, your sister remained by your side every step of the way, offering a steady hand to hold onto in the darkest of times. Slowly but surely, you started to unravel the tangled web of emotions that had ensnared your heart, finding solace in the love and support of your family.

—

When the new school year started you were deemed well enough to start at the new school. Leah had asked if you wanted to do online school instead, but both your therapist and you didn’t think that to be a good idea.

The transition to a new school was daunting and filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You couldn't shake the memories of past experiences, the taunts and jeers of classmates echoing in your mind like a cruel refrain. But as you stepped into the halls of your new school, you were met with a surprising kindness that took you off guard.

The kids here were different. They didn't make fun of you or hurl insults your way. Instead, they greeted you with smiles and open arms, eager to welcome you into their midst. It was a stark contrast to the hostile environment you had grown accustomed to, and it filled you with a sense of relief and gratitude.

As time went by, you found yourself slowly but surely coming out of your shell, emboldened by the kindness and acceptance of your peers. You made new friends, shared laughs, and discovered a sense of belonging that you had never known before.

Leah watched with pride as you flourished in your new environment, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of your radiant smile. She knew that the road ahead would still be challenging, filled with ups and downs, but she also knew that you were strong enough to face whatever came your way.

When one day you came home telling her all about two new girls you met, she was so ecstatic that she couldn’t help but cry about it to the Swiss brunette who had a permanent spot at your dinner table. The blonde had refrained from taking you to training as of now, leaving you space to breathe and be alone. With that you couldn’t just call Kyra and Alessia your friends and call it a day, you needed your own.

—

After spending weeks bonding with Charlie and Mia, you couldn't wait to introduce them to your sister Leah. One afternoon, you invited them over to Leah's house for a casual hangout, eager to share your newfound friendships with her.

As Charlie and Mia arrived at Leah's doorstep, you greeted them with a smile and led them inside. Leah welcomed them warmly, offering snacks (that you had made) and drinks as the four of you settled into the cozy living room. They wanted to get to know the sister you couldn’t shut up about.

You watched nervously as Charlie and Mia chatted with Leah, hoping that they would hit it off. To your relief, the conversation flowed easily, with laughter filling the room as they exchanged stories and shared jokes.

"So, how did you two meet?" your sister asked, her eyes flickering between them.

Charlie, a vibrant and outgoing girl, grinned and began the story. "Well, Mia and I actually met in our science class. We were paired up for a project, and the rest is history."

Mia nodded, chiming in, "Yeah, Charlie swooped in to save the day when I accidentally mixed up my chemicals. She's been my lab partner and best friend ever since."

Leah chuckled, nodding in understanding. "It sounds like you two make a great team."

You couldn't help but jump in, eager to share your own thoughts. "They really do. Charlie and Mia have been amazing friends to me since I started at this new school."

Leah's eyes softened as she turned her attention to you. "That's wonderful to hear, Bug. I'm so glad you've found some great friends."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for your sister's support, and thanks to your therapy, you were not afraid to tell them. "Yeah, they've been really supportive. And it's nice to have them here with you."

Leah smiled, her gaze shifting between the three of you. "Well, you're all welcome here anytime. It's nice to see you so happy, Bug."

—

A couple of days later Leah came home from training to you making dinner in the kitchen. Instead of sitting down or waiting she stood in the doorway joking about your apron. Conversation in the middle of doing something was always the best.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly among you, Leah's eyes sparkled with an idea. "You know, Bug, my teammates have been asking about you. They've heard so much about my little sister and they're dying to meet you."

Your heart skipped a beat at Leah's suggestion. Meeting Leah's teammates felt like a significant step, a symbol of how far you'd come since arriving in London. The thought both excited and intimidated you.

Leah must have noticed the mix of emotions flickering across your face because she quickly added, "But only if you're comfortable with it. I don't want to pressure you into anything."

She knew that you had talked to most of them before. But it had always been brief and at the side of the pitch, signing a shirt for you and taking a picture. Aside from Lia, who had been at the house just the evening prior.

You took a moment to consider Leah's offer, the warmth of her support comforting you. With a newfound sense of confidence, you nodded eagerly. "I'd love to meet them, Leah. It sounds like fun."

Leah's smile widened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. "Great! I'll arrange a get-together with the team. I know they'll love you just as much as I do."

Meeting her teammates felt like the next natural step in your journey of growth and self-discovery, and you were ready to embrace it with open arms.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #woso community #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

310 notes · View notes

wip · 5 months ago

Note

morning wips! i wanna get involved with the communities rollout! i've submitted a couple of them for review already. however, even for someone like me that is v ready for it, it's hard to engage with communities as a concept because it's not clear what they'll be, not possible to browse existing ones, and there's no info about how they might look or feel like to use. could we have a list of communities that are already happening (even if we can't access them yet), a walkthrough of how communities look or some other descriptive resource? the current info about communities isn't telling very much. these suggestions are made with positive enthusiasm - i WANT to get hype - but it feels v much like we're fumbling in the dark/contributing to something that we don't get to see atm and i think some clarity would help. kis kis kis !!

Answer: Hi there, @moitt!

Thank you for these. All great, fair questions!

And we are happy to answer them. Admittedly, we are fumbling in the dark a little, you might say—that is why it’s still an experiment. We have our own ideas for how Communities could work, but really, we want to build it based on what people actually do with it. This is why the current functionality is fairly simple and limited. We’ve wanted to see what feedback we get and to understand what people ask for and expect—rather than spending a long time building something that may be unappealing to the people we hope will use it (we’ve made that mistake many times in the past!) You can see a little bit of that dialogue in the Feedback community.

To your point about seeing communities—right now, we’re working on ways of integrating public communities into existing feeds, search, tagged pages, etc., so that they can be discovered by people who aren’t in any yet (which is most people on Tumblr!) We hope that by seeing other people use it, you’ll get a better explanation than anything we could try to provide—because every community is doing things in their own interestingly unique way right now. We don’t want to be prescriptive about how they should be used.

By the way, the same is true with how blogs work on Tumblr—we don’t tell you how to blog. Instead, we hope you try to figure out your own way of blogging by seeing how others behave on the platform.

We hope that helps address at least some of your queries. We would also advise that you have a little look at this handy Help Center explainer into Communities. Above all, we hope y’all like it.

Stay tuned!

#feature #communities #wip speaks #sneak peak #tumblr roadmap #this is a work in progress

161 notes · View notes

the-fell-family · 7 months ago

Text

Hello! Welcome to our blog.

My name is Aziraphale, and along with my husband Crowley, we run this Tumblr blog. I am still very new to the Internet, so please be patient while I figure it out. Crowley is much better at this sort of thing...

Speaking of. Crowley has said that I should make an introduction post. Well.

➸ Crowley and I both run this blog. We are a married couple and we will both answer the asks that you send in. It may be useful to direct your question at one of us in particular, if you want someone specific to answer it.

➸ I use He/Him pronouns, Crowley mostly uses He/Him, but will occasionally use She/Her and They/Them.

➸ About a year ago, we moved to the South Downs, after living in London for a large portion of our lives.

➸ Crowley has made me add this one... Yes, we will accept any 'NSFW' asks, as long as the person sending it is over 18. These posts will be tagged accordingly.

➸ Ah, the most exciting part... Crowley and I are expecting! Yes, indeed. Our little one is due in late December 2024, if we go by human standards. We don't quite know when they'll come, since we aren't human. I am carrying them.

If you have any other questions, please send them in. Well. That is the point of this blog, I suppose. Anyways. It's lovely talking to you all! - Aziraphale

Hi. - Crowley

#Good omens #GO #Aziraphale #Crowley #A z fell #Ask blog #Good omens ask blog #Send asks #Mpreg #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #a j crowley #Michael sheen #David Tennant #GO 2 #Good omens 2

161 notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 6 months ago

Note

i was wondering if you could do Duece, Leona, Ruggie, Azul, Jamil x Christian S/O headcanons? like reader used to be a preacher back at their world, and still kinda preaches in twst (i think rollo believes in God?) like they do all the things Christians should do but still kinda chaotic? their very respectfull and kind yk? sorry for making this a bit long and confusing lol

twst's relationship with religion is so vague and complicated and yet. I cannot imagine rollo as anything BUT catholic. look at that guy. so I believe there's some kind of similar belief systems happening there

summary: religious reader type of post: headcanons characters: deuce, leona, ruggie, azul, jamil additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader yuu, short and not proofread author's note: writing these on the basis that religion does exist in twisted wonderland and parallels religions of our own. I am catholic and admittedly unfamiliar with preaching to others, I think that's more of a protestant thing, so I kinda just winged that part?

𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞

if there's anything for him to admire, it's your dedication

I mean, you're sticking to your beliefs and passions in an entirely different universe

with a bunch of strangers, no less!

whether or not some version of your beliefs exist here, you're committed! and quite knowledgeable, too

it's pretty impressive to him

Deuce's family doesn't seem particularly religious, though he probably just enjoys hearing the stories

the narratives of change and redemption catch his eye

𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢

he's big into all those "it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God" verses

even if he doesn't necessarily believe in all that heaven stuff... it's a little funny

(he might use that one in the future, actually...)

if religion which parallels our own does exist in Twisted Wonderland, I can imagine his granny being religious

she seems like someone who'd cover the walls in symbols and art

maybe (likely) not Christian in origin, but enough for him to recognize that what you're going on about is a similar deal

he's practically used to it already

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

literally just falls asleep while you're talking

it's not that he doesn't care, it's just that...

wait, no. he doesn't care

sure, he participates in traditions and such with his family, but that's more for looks

Leona doesn't really see the point in blindly following something that hasn't helped him out at all

and hearing about miracles and blessings just annoys him

but, hey! you make for a great sound machine

these are basically all just bedtime stories for him to doze off to, anyway

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

merman religion is... tricky, to me

the existence of Hades in implies (confirms, even, if we take into account Yuu's dreams) the existence of Poseidon

but, like King Triton, these figures aren't necessarily worshipped. they're depicted as monarchs, not gods

but, then again, our knowledge on Coral Sea culture is limited

in any case, Azul might tolerate preaching

he really sees no use for it, and he's a busy man, but he doesn't really mind the company

if anyone, it's Jade who would be really interested in hearing alllll about these human stories

Floyd might tag along, too

and, suddenly, Azul finds himself wedged between the tweel's shoulders on the floor while they eagerly listen to you

...there goes his afternoon

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

to me, Jamil is not religious or superstitious by any means

he doesn't mind listening, but don't expect him to change his mind about any of that

(especially while Kalim is begging for more stories)

though, even he admits that having you around is as refreshing as it is entertaining

you're just always so... hopeful

and it's much different from Kalim's version of optimism (in his eyes, at least) simply because, in this world, you're at the same disadvantage as Jamil is

your autonomy is constantly in question, you're living at the mere goodwill of others...

and yet, you're hopeful!

it's strange, but Jamil can't help but crave that presence in his life

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #deuce spade x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader

108 notes · View notes

daengtokki · 10 months ago

Text

©¹¹ᵒⁿˡʸ

Kim Seungmin/female reader

wc: ~7.2k

rating: fluff (kinda?) to smut to fluff ಇ (sub/switch!seungmin/softdom!reader)

comments: this is my first time trying out non idol Seungmin. @xirxe requested au fluff! I started a coworker au, and then got more info from them after I started writing furiously. I'm still working on another one more specific to their request, but I decided to finish this one as well. "Finish" …because I don't know when to stop ever. It got very long and turned much more sex-heavy than originally intended. Anyway, I miss writing long pieces and now I might write a part 5 for Blind Date (⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)

⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄

The first time you see him, he’s in one of the appliance aisles. Actually, it’s the first time you hear him, because what gets your attention is him laughing hysterically with another coworker, goofing off, sitting in one of the display office chairs. And he’s just about to be launched down the aisle when you turn the corner.

“Oh shit…caught,” you hear one of them say, and you’re pretty sure it was Changbin. But they both stop dead and look at you like you already handed out their punishments.

The reality is, you don’t care what they’re doing, because the store is nearly empty of customers. The snowstorm outside is making sure of that. But you’re new, and you’re above them—that’s all it takes to make things awkward. They’re probably expecting you to start bossing them around immediately.

Nope. You walk by them and smirk, “don’t break anything please…”

They giggle and pick up where they left off as soon as you turn the corner and disappear. You remember who the dark haired one is, but for some reason, the name of the blond in the chair is escaping you.

The second time you see him, he’s fighting with the coffee machine in the breakroom.

As soon as he hears you walk in, he stops beating his open palm against the side, looks back, smiles, then tries the button again. “Do you want a cup?” He asks.

“Doesn’t seem like it wants to give us any.”

“Surrounded by brand new Nespresso machines…stuck with this.” He opens the top, closes it, then pushes the button again. This time it works, and a moment later, his coffee is pouring into his cup.

“Maybe I can ask about getting a new one for us.” You watch him watching his coffee.

He swirls it and brings it to his nose before taking a sip. “I’ve tried. Hopefully you have better luck.”

To your surprise, he sits directly across from you at the table. You look at him, try desperately to remember his name. You forgot to check the schedule when you saw him earlier in the day, but you don’t want to ask. And of course he isn’t wearing his name tag.

“Where’s your name tag?” You ask, trying not to sound too much like a manager.

“Uh…” he slaps his chest where it should be, looks down at it, thinks. “I must’ve lost it.” The smirk on his face is…cute.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“You’re very helpful.” He shakes his bangs away from his eyes—blond, a little too long. You can see his big dark eyes a little better, just for a second until his gaze drops back down to his coffee.

“I try.”

He’s quiet for the remainder of your break, but when you rise to leave, he does as well. You head toward the office, and he follows. Just before you get there, he makes a left turn.

Now you can finally look at the schedule and figure out his name.

･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

The very next day, you still have no idea who he is. The copy of the schedule was nowhere to be found, and your computer access is still limited. Try as you might, your login just won’t work. All you have to do is ask him, though. It’s not that big of a deal. And honestly, if you weren’t wearing your name tag, he probably wouldn’t know yours either.

A soft knock on the office door makes you jump. You check the time—8am. If only you could find a schedule, you’d know who was supposed to be here right now.

“Good morning!” You’re greeted with a familiar face when you open the door. He steps inside, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Do you have a job for me?”

“Do I…I’m not sure. Is anyone else here?”

“Uhm, well you opened the doors,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “and I just came in because the door wasn’t locked, which was lucky, because it’s cold out and I did not want to stand out there and wait.”

“Okay, so we’re here.”

“Just us, yes.”

“Do you have a login for the computer?”

He nods and smiles, takes a seat, and starts typing. “You don’t?”

“It doesn’t work yet.”

“Oh okay, that sounds about right for this place.” He gets up and turns the seat for you. “I don’t have as much access as your login would, but it’s better than nothing.”

You sit down and spin back to the computer, look around, click a few things. His profile photo stares at you from the corner, and you have to force yourself not to accidentally click on it. He’s watching over your shoulder, leaning in a little, trying to be helpful. You catch the faintest scent of whatever he's wearing. It's not cologne, though. He just smells clean and nice, probably how his bedroom smells.

You find a page of contacts, phone numbers. Good enough for now. “Thanks,” you turn to him and he’s staring down at you with a goofy smile.

“No problem. I’m going to go make some coffee.”

As soon as he leaves, you don’t grab your phone and call another manager, and you don’t even keep the contact page up. You go back and click on his profile.

“Oh! Kim Seung Min, that’s your name.” You stare at his profile photo. His hair is darker in this, and the contrast makes his skin look pale and his eyes look even bigger. His smile is so wide, like he's actually happy to be there. He’s very photogenic; it’s a good photo. A work ID photo really has no business looking this nice.

A few minutes later, he knocks again, and you quickly exit out of the screen as if he can see you through the door.

“Sorry, I just…I saw the new machine," his little nod and blink makes your breath catch in your throat. "I made you some.”

Seungmin hands you a mug of coffee, a little darker than you’re used to, but he obviously watched you put milk in yours yesterday, and tried his best to copy it.

“Thank you, Seungmin.”

“I can remake it, if it’s not good.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

You look at the screen, heart starting to race. Did you only think you exited out of his profile? No, it’s not there. What is he talking about?

“Oh…oh, no not yet. No answer. I’ll call again in a few minutes.”

“I can help you with the opening stuff, if you’d like. I’ve done it a few times with the other managers.”

“The guy I saw yesterday and the one I’m seeing now don’t seem like the same person.”

He stares blankly for a few seconds, puffs out his cheeks, looks around. “Me?” The blush in his cheeks is rising. “Am I being too responsible right now? I can stop.” Seungmin smiles so big you can see all of his teeth.

It’s hard keeping your own smile in check. This one has to know how cute he is, and there’s no way he doesn’t use it to his advantage. “You can stop in an hour.”

“Deal.”

The two of you survive, dancing around each other for a few hours—you, purposely avoiding him several times by swerving to a different aisle. Him, well…he acted responsible all morning, smiled every time you made eye contact. When noon finally comes around, another manager shows up, and the snow finally stops.

Changbin also arrived at noon, and as soon as he and Seungmin looked at each other, all responsibility flew out the window. But you turned a blind eye to whatever goofing off they decided to do. And Seungmin, unfortunately, didn’t look in your direction the rest of the day.

･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

“Does your login work yet?” Seungmin comes in and digs around in the pockets of his jacket.

You’re slumped over on the table, phone in hand, trying not to fall asleep, but you sit up when you see him come through the door, “It does.”

This is the first time you’ve seen him in three days. He was off, then you were off for two days. Now you’re on break, and he just started his shift 15 minutes ago. You’re not sure why he’s in here, and whatever he’s looking for in his pockets doesn’t seem to be there.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and then finally pulls something out. It’s his name tag. He pins it to his shirt, very crookedly, then takes it off and tries again.

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” you squint at it and try to make out the little sticker by his name, but he’s too far away.

“The trick to falling asleep is to try to stay awake.”

“What?” You look from his name tag to his face. His hair is dark again. “Your hair.”

“My hair? Oh! I got tired of being blond.”

You like it dark. It’s not dark, though, not really. It’s a natural brown color, but he obviously did it himself, because you can still see some blond streaks coming through. It makes his skin look warm. Yes, you like it.

“If you try to keep yourself awake in bed, you fall asleep. I was trying to read on my phone last night, and I really wanted to finish the chapter, but I ended up dozing off and dropping my phone on my face.”

It’s so stupid, and so clever. And cute.

Seungmin smirks at you and turns to walk away, and then he turns back. “Does it look okay?”

You stare at him. Does what look okay? His badge? Everything from where you’re sitting looks very good, now that he mentions it. Long legs in his black jeans, a little loose around his tiny frame. There's a rip over one thigh, and you can see some of his skin peeking through. The belt holding them up had to have an extra hole poked in it, because the end of it is long enough to stick out from the dark blue work shirt.

“My hair, I mean.”

“Yeah, I like it.”

･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Seungmin isn’t alone today. His work buddy is here, and you can hear them all the way on the other side of the store. An hour or so later, another one comes in—this one you haven’t met yet, because he’s been gone all week. But as soon as he clocks in and returns to the floor, you hear all three of them laughing and acting up.

You don’t want to have to compete with two friends to get to him, but you will.

A walk by the phone accessory aisle gives you a chance to peek at them. Seungmin is sitting on the floor, legs crossed, arms propping up his long body.

Nobody else in the store seems to bother with making them work, so you don’t either. At least not now, in your first week. It’s hard enough starting a new job without worrying about making enemies—and besides, the minute you laid eyes on his him, making a new friend became your agenda.

---

And of course they all sit in the breakroom together, chatting loudly. As long as one of those two are here, you don’t imagine you’ll have any opportunity to talk to him.

They’re not teenage boys, but you wouldn’t really know it if you could only hear the conversation and not see them. You almost walk in on them, but the noise startles you just as you reach for the door knob. Stopping and listening in is not your smartest decision of the day, but once you stand silently for a few seconds, you can’t move.

The first voice is easily recognizable—it’s Changbin.

“She doesn’t talk much…she hasn’t spoken to me at all. Well, except when she told me not to break anything.”

“Well I haven’t even seen her yet, so I guess she—“

“It’s shitty being new. I’m sure she’s just trying to get used to things.”

Seungmin’s voice is surprisingly quiet.

“Maybe. You’ve worked with her more. And I always see her looking at you…so.”

“So…what?” Seungmin is still quiet but there’s a tiny bit of offense behind it.

“So maybe you’re making it easier for her to adjust.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

"Don't play dumb, Seungie...older woman, authority figure." Changbin laughs,

“Cmon Min…” this time it’s the other one talking, “we know you’re a little bit of a slut sometimes.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, but you hear his chair being pushed back, and then he gets to his feet. It takes you a second to loosen yourself from the spot, but you manage just in time and duck behind the corner.

Seungmin runs right into you when he turns and he nearly knocks you to the ground, but his hand grabs your arm to steady you. “I’m sorry…you alright?” His voice is still quiet. He’s whispering, probably because he doesn’t want them to hear.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You look up at him, and you can’t help but wonder if what they just said about him is true. They were obviously trying to rile him up, but friends are also brutally honest sometimes.

“Are you going on your break? I wouldn’t go in there yet, if you are.”

“I was going to, yes.”

“Changbin and Hyunjin are in there, and they can be a handful sometimes.”

“And you’re not?”

A nervous laugh comes out, “uhm, maybe sometimes. They’re not the best influence on me.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I can go back and make you a coffee. Actually…”

“Seungmin you don’t have to do that.”

“…I can take you across the street and we can grab some better coffee there.”

“Seungmin,” you widen your eyes at him, because his are huge.

“Please, I want to.”

“Are you flirting with me?” You're not sure why he wants to protect you, but that's clearly what he's doing.

Another nervous laugh. His ears turn red. He stutters, “flirting…um, uh no I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

You hear them before you see them. They open the door and turn the corner before you can react—Seungmin freezes and stares at you. Changbin pushes him into the wall as he walks by, laughs, nods to you, and disappears.

“Guess the breakroom is safe now.”

“Yeah.”

･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Once today, Seungmin caught himself staring at you. He dropped his eyes back down to his phone immediately, heart racing, face red. Part of him wanted you to catch him looking, the other part is still nervous.

You asked him to watch the register specifically to keep him away from his jerk friends, and you tried not to make it too obvious, but he knows. From here, he can see you wandering around, and you can see him. They’re nowhere to be found. It’s quiet.

He won’t tell anyone (well, not them), but he likes when it’s quiet and he can be by himself. And as much as he hates watching the register, he’s glad you put him up here, because it gives him a a chance to read and people watch. Now he’s just waiting for you to walk by.

A text pops up on his phone:

Did you get in trouble Seung?

He ignores it.

She’s looking at you right now…she’s swooning

He tries to ignore him again, but he looks up and around, trying to find you. Seungmin knows Changbin is just being an asshole, but maybe you are looking at him. He’s hoping you are.

“Seungmin?”

He jumps, and nearly drops his phone. “Hi…hi. You’re very quiet.”

“Sorry. I can wear a bell, if that helps.”

“A bell? Like a…a collar?” Seungmin watches as your eyes grow big. He has no idea why he said that, and now you probably think he’s a pervert. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that.” He goes back to his phone only to see more texts—a string of laughing emojis—oh, there she is—she can’t stay away from you.

“Yeah…bell, collar. Makes sense.”

“That was..." he groans, "so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. At least I know where your mind is now.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not…I mean, I’m just a ditz.”

“You’d look much better in one.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his cheeks. “Please don’t hate me.” His eyes pop open again, “I’d what?”

“…look cute wearing a collar.”

“I would?”

You mhm and walk away. Just leave it at that. Were you flirting? Deflecting? Making him feel less stupid?

Seungmin doesn’t feel any less stupid. A comment like that to the wrong person could mean getting fired, and he just said it to his new manager.

But he doesn’t think you’d get him in trouble. He has no reason to think you wouldn’t, but…no, you wouldn’t.

You pop up behind him again, and once again, he jumps. "It's gonna take a lot more than that to make me dislike you."

･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

The next time you see him, he’s on his way out. You’re making coffee, he barrels into the breakroom to grab his things. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a great mood, so you keep your attention on your mug.

Seungmin is in his locker and mumbling to himself. And then… “oh, I didn’t know anyone was is here.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just ready to get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The ghost of a smile is on his lips as he grabs his coat and runs back out the door. You were hoping for one more awkward moment with him before either of you left tonight, but now it’ll have to wait.

But he comes back in a moment later; doesn't speak, doesn't even close the door. Just looks at you.

Seungmin has no idea why he came back in, but he was hoping a good excuse would come to him in the few seconds it took to get here. Now he's just staring stupidly and chewing on his lip.

"Hi," you smile at him and sip your coffee. "Did you want a cup before you catch your bus?"

"How'd you know I take the bus?"

"You shrug, "It's in your availability, silly."

"Oh, right. So you're not just watching me all the time?"

"I didn't say that."

They're heard before they're seen. Changbin and Hyunjin push themselves right through Seungmin on the way into the breakroom.

"Oh, hi boss," Changbin reddens and smirks when he sees you standing there, "Is this a bad time?"

"I have to go, I'll see you tomorrow." Seungmin ducks out quickly before you can even say goodbye.

･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

“Don’t forget your coffee,” Hyunjin squeezes Seungmin’s shoulder as he sneaks by him.

“My what? I didn’t bring coffee in with me.”

“It has your name on it.”

He turns and see it’s sitting there. Just a black coffee, but not from here. It’s from the coffee shop across the street. And yes, his name is written neatly on the side.

“Somebody brought you coffee. How sweet.” He smirks. “Have a good shift.”

Seungmin picks it up and takes a sip. It’s still hot, so it was just set here recently. And of course he knows who put it there, because he can be a little stupid sometimes, but not that stupid. He looks at the schedule on his phone to see who he works with, and you’re right in the middle of his shift. You’ll be gone soon, but, at least he didn’t just miss you.

---

“Thank you,” he says, walking up behind you. You have your coffee in one hand, phone in the other.

“For what?” Seungmin doesn’t scare you, his voice is too sweet and soft, even if he does sneak up.

He looks at his cup, then to you.

“You’re welcome. Hopefully you always take it black.”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“Oh, and you’re getting cut today.“

“My shift was cut?”

“In half. I told the boss I needed you here until I was done.”

“You do?”

“No, but I figured half a shift was better than none. And I can give you a ride home, if you want. It’s too cold to wait on the bus.”

Seungmin sips his coffee, because he’s not sure how to respond just yet. His stomach is swirling, though, and he’s trying to conceal his smile. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

You turn to face him, “in trouble for what?”

“Favoritism.”

“You think you’re my favorite?”

He nods once, mouth still covered by his cup.

“You’re right, you are.”

---

The rest of the shift drags, and of course it would—you’re putting him in your car and taking him home in a few hours…this will be your first time seeing him outside of work. You try to keep away from Seungmin as much as possible, though, because he’s right. If you’re not careful, everyone will notice the attention you’re starting to give him.

“I’m a bit of a drive from here,” he says when you finally walk down the same aisle as him. “So if you don’t want—“

“If you can handle it on the bus, I’m sure I can handle the drive.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I don’t mind. You can get the coffee next time, if it makes you feel better.”

“Yes,” he reaches out and looks at the order on the side of your cup. “I can do that.”

･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

It is a long drive. But you don’t mind, because he’s comfortable in the passenger seat; head back, eyes closed. You sneak a glance at him every chance you get, and each time, it looks like he’s sleeping soundly. It’s nice seeing him so close, letting your eyes linger even more than you dared to before. Even in the dark. The shape of his nose and lips, his jawline, his ear. The way his hair falls so nicely, and so effortlessly.

But of course he catches you, looks right back, and smiles.

“You really have such a long ride to and from work every day, Seungmin?” You blush, even though you don’t think he saw you staring.

“Yeah, it’s not bad. I’m used to it.”

“Are you saving for a car?”

“No, I can’t drive.”

“Oh, do you want to learn?”

“I’m not sure, thinking about driving makes me nervous.”

“I don’t want this to come across weird, but…how old are you?”

“I am 23. Am I too young or too old?” He flips down the visor and opens the mirror.

“Are you flirting?”

“You did it first.”

“No, I think you might have flirted first, actually.”

“When?”

“When you tried to keep me out of the breakroom. But I guess that was more for my own sake than anything.”

“I didn’t want you to have to listen to them.” Seungmin sits back again, and you can feel his stare burning into you.

“I heard them.”

“You did? What did you hear?”

“Your friends think you’re fucking me…or that you’re going to. And that you’re a slut.”

He’s quiet, and you hope you haven’t gone too far by actually saying it as crassly as they did.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not a slut?” You smile at him, hoping to break any tension you may have created. Thankfully it seems to work, because Seungmin laughs and covers his eyes. Then shakes his head.

“Or you’re not gonna fuck me?”

You can’t see his reaction, because now you have to watch the road, but he’s quiet again and it’s killing you.

“Take a left up here.” He says.

You decide to avoid eye contact completely until you get him home, and luckily, it’s not much longer. You pull into a spot as close to the door as possible, put it in park, and look at him.

He’s still relaxed, sitting back, eyes wide open and staring at you.

“I’m sorry, that was…uh, maybe too much.“

“Do you wanna come up?”

—-

Of course you do. The last three weeks you’ve spent trying to keep your distance has been torture, but you’re still nervous as you follow him down the hall to his apartment. You’re certain that as soon as you have him where you want him, you’ll snap out of it.

“This one,” he says it quietly, a little timid, maybe. You like it. “It’s probably a little messy.”

“I don’t mind.”

It’s not. Seungmin’s idea of messy is your idea of tidied up. And it’s a cute little apartment. Just looking at the couch—the big striped throw pillows, a few plushies, it doesn’t look like a typical single guys apartment. It’s cute, and it’s comfortable. It’s really cute. The kitchen is small and most of the counter space is taken up by an espresso machine and all of the things that go with it. It’s neat in here, too. Not a dish or cup out of place.

“I like it,” you turn and he’s there, an inch away from you. “Can I see the rest?”

“Of course.”

The rest being his bedroom, and he leads you right in. It’s a little darker in here, but it’s still very him. It’s sweet, a little bit colorful, and very very soft.

The dog plush on top of one of his pillows reminds you of something important, “oh, you're collar. It's at home.”

“My collar? You got me a collar?”

“Yeah, it’s really cute.” You close the gap between you and grab the neck of his shirt, “sit.”

He does. Seungmin sits on the edge of his bed, not breaking eye contact. He leans back and rests on his hands, stretches out his long torso, spreads his knees as you put a leg between them. "What does it look like?"

You run your hand up to his throat and very, very lightly close your hand around it. No need to scare him off immediately. You want to squeeze, but right now you’re perfectly content just touching him "It's red...dark red, and has a gold chain across the front."

"A bell?"

“Of course. A tag, if you want.”

His eyes light up, and his hand wraps around your thigh, thumb moves in gentle circles. It sends a little shiver up your arms. He’s making your head swim, and you need to get a hold of yourself.

"...but you won't be fucking me."

"Huh?" he stops, and his mouth opens a little.

It seems a little bold of him, but he slides both hands up your thighs, up your hips, and hooks his fingers underneath your leggings. You told him he won’t be fucking you, and yet…

He pulls down, gently, until you can kick them to the side...and he looks up at you with pleading eyes. You grab a handful of his pretty hair and put his lips on you, and he kisses your hip so softly, you feel like you could melt.

“No," you push him back a little and straddle him. He’s resting on one elbow, and the other hand is slowly moving up toward your ass. “No, pup…I’m fucking you.”

He mouths the word pup, bites down on his lips, tries to hold back his smile. “Yes, please.”

“Please? Oh, I knew you were the one.”

“I am,” Seungmin falls to his back, and sighs…moans, “I am, noona.” His hips buck up and he looks down at his quickly growing erection. Seungmin was probably already halfway there when he invited you up.

He needs let loose, but first you feel him over his clothes. He’s a handful, and he twitches when your fingers move along his length.

“Please…” he whispers, and his puppy eyes are impossible to deny. Now you want to give him everything. “Take care of me.”

“Oh, Seungmin…” you unbuckle his belt, unbutton, unzip. Very slowly. “I will.”

“Minnie.”

“Hmm?” You run a hand over him again, and the red, needy tip of his cock peeks out from his briefs. “What’d you say?”

“Call me—“ he’s cut short by your lips wrapping around his head. His moan cuts through you, your pussy throbs, and your mouth sucks him in a little more. “…call me Minnie.”

“Minnie,” you moan, licking the pre-cum from his stomach. “Minnie, you’re so hard for me.”

Finally, you pull at the sides of his jeans, slide them down his legs, and throw them to the side. You suck him in as far as you can—he squirms, and his hips jerk up toward your mouth, pushing him in even further. A slap on his thigh settles him, letting you work him at your own pace. You don’t want him anywhere near close yet, because you’re just getting started.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” You look at him, stroke him slowly, take in the rest of his body. His sweatshirt is still on, but pushed up just enough for you to see his stomach.

“Yes, I’ll be good.”

You lean down and kiss his stomach, run your tongue across his belly button, “take that off.”

Seungmin listens and pulls his sweatshirt over his head.

“Look at me.”

He does. He doesn’t break eye contact when you suck him back into your mouth, stroke hard and slow, lick the pre-cum leaking out of him again. His moan is desperate and whiny, just how you like it.

“You’re so pretty, Minnie.” You crawl over him, leaving kisses on his body as you go, and when you stop at his throat, he whines a little and licks his lips. “So sweet.”

You’re making him blush. And you give him no warning when you take his dick and slide it across the wet fold of your cunt. His fingers grip your thighs, and you let him hold on as you push him in. Despite how wet you are, it takes a little work. You slide down slowly until he disappears completely inside of you.

The sound he makes for you is so much better, so much softer than you thought it would be—he’s already begging for more.

You grind your hips into him and stretch yourself around his thickness, get used to how much he’s filling you up. “Minnie,” you moan. “Fuck.”

You could do this until you come. You might. He seems like he's enjoying himself, too.

His hips lift and hit you deeper. You let him, because it feels too good. He mumbles something, but you’re too lost in how he’s making you feel.

When your hands grip the sheets next to him, his wrap around your arms, slide up, and then back down. “You feel so good,” he purrs.

You lift your hips and bounce on him, slowly at first, because he’s already losing it. He has no problem making noise and his moans drown out whatever he’s trying to say…

so good… don’t… stop… please… ah… so tight...I'm gonna...

“Oh no baby, not yet,” you slow down and grind on him again, hitting just the right spot. You lean back and hit it even harder, over and over. Each pound against his hips makes him whine. “Pup, you’re gonna make me come already, you’re such a good boy.”

You do. You look at him as you squeeze him tight, relax, and gently bounce up and down. Seungmin smiles and licks his lips—the only sound is the wet slide of him being covered in your come, and it's all he can keep his eyes on.

He bucks up hard, “I wanna come,” and again, you let him. He’s getting away with far too much, but he feels so good, and he’s too cute, and he’s too gentle. And you can’t wait to make him come. But not yet.

“Soon Minnie, I promise,” you lean forward and groan with the change in angle. “I want you all night.” You place a kiss on his chest, bite and kiss his nipple.

“I can come for you…all night.”

“I bet you can.”

“Kiss me, please.”

“I am…” you laugh and work you way further up.

“Please,” he whispers. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks.”

“You have?”

“Yeah…mhm, I have.”

“Oh, you…you like me, huh? I mean—”

Seungmin nods, “don’t you like me?”

“I like you very much,” you kiss the corner of his mouth, bite his lip, and then finally press your lips against his. He kisses so eagerly, so hungrily, you almost can’t keep up with his tongue.

He hums and moans down your throat, holds onto your thighs tight enough to leave marks—fucks you, slowly and deeply, rolling his hips so smoothly you can already feel another orgasm rising. You wonder if he even knows how good he is.

“Min—” you just barely get it out around his lips. “Minnie…”

He slows down, but doesn’t stop.

“Easy,” you finally pry him off of you and push him down, hand just below his throat, “take it easy.”

“Sorry,” Seungmin slows his hips down even more, and eventually comes to a stop. His fingers are still digging into your skin, and his chest is heaving.

“No,” you run your fingers up and down his throat, kiss him one more time, and pull him up by the back of his neck until he’s sitting. “Nothing to be sorry for, you’re still a good boy.”

This has been too easy. You weren’t sure how easy it would be to get him underneath you, falling apart, begging for more…but you had a feeling he wanted it just as much as you. What you weren’t completely sure of was how much control he’d give to you.

Luckily, Seungmin is just what you hoped he would be: gentle, pliant, needy for attention, and very horny.

He melts into your touch—your fingers running through his hair, your thumbs running over his ears, still red and warm. You kiss and suck at the skin on his jaw, not caring if you leave marks. And very slowly, you start to move your hips again.

You have his shoulders for leverage now, and your arms are wrapped loosely around him. From this position he could take so much more control, but he doesn’t. He’s content just watching you move on him, looking up every so often until you look back. Every time you do, a smile tugs at his lips, and you can tell he just wants to kiss you again.

Keeping it from him is becoming a challenge. He craves touch and affection, and he might be the most patient, well-behaved fuck you’ve had in a long time, so you will give it to him eventually.

“Seungmin?” His name feels so nice rolling off of your tongue.

He looks at you…flushed, sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose. He answers by sliding his palm up along your spine.

“Seungmin…” you lock your arms around him, pull him in until your foreheads are touching, and start fucking him faster. He holds you steady, pulls you toward him, grinds you on his cock just how he likes it. “Oh god…ah, just like that, pup. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward and kisses, “that feels good, hm?”

His words come out so heavy and warm and thick. You can’t stop him, you won’t. He keeps his pace and movements so steady, and it feels so good you could cry.

“Come for me, please. I wanna hear you.”

Seungmin, you whine his name, pathetically, like you’re falling apart, because you are. You moan and your legs start to shake, but he holds you tighter and keeps you moving on him. In and out, back and forth. Right where you need it. Over and over.

You cry out, and he smiles as he works you through it—gradually slowing down as you relax...then he lifts you up and off of him.

“No, I’m not done with you.”

“Just a little break,” he pushes his forehead against yours again, closes in on your lips, but you shake your head.

“You’re not in charge, pup.”

“I’m not, I know. Catch your breath.”

“You feel so good...I wanna keep going.”

“Not yet…” he grabs you around the middle and puts you on your back. “Relax.”

“Minnie…what are you doing?”

The room spins. You close your eyes. The bed shifts as he lays down, and you feel a blanket being pulled up and over you. And then his arm is there, pulling you against his warm body and holding you tight. Seungmin is turning everything upside down. You’re melting into him, and you like it.

“What about you?” You mumble into his chest, “I wanna make you feel good.”

“You are…don’t worry. We’re just catching our breath.”

“Seungmin”

He rubs your back, “hmm?” pulls away just enough to look at you.

“Nothing”

“Nothing? You sure?”

“No. What are we doing? Ooh…you like me.” It’s hard not to smile when you say it out loud again. “Do you, really?”

He laughs and tries to hide his face behind the blanket. “Yeah, sorry. Am I complicating things?”

“You are, but it’s okay.”

“Is it too much? We can keep going, if that’s what you want. You can take over again.”

“Is this what you like, sweetie?” You slide a fingertip along his jaw and over his ear. “Just being like this? Kissing…” you pull him close for one, “touching.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Seungmin is excited and relaxed and nervous all at once. You’re a little more than he was expecting, but he’s not going to complain. He wanted this. He still wants it.

Another kiss on his lips, “you just want taken care of, yeah?”

He nods.

“Good,” as soon as you wiggle your hand free, you slide it down his stomach until your fingertips find him, still hard. Taking care of Seungmin is the only thing on your mind now; making him feel good, giving him all the attention and affection he needs. Making sure he comes back for more.

Slow, gentle strokes—a kiss between his eyes, on the tip of his nose. You almost get teeth when you go for the smile on his lips.

His hands are all over you, touching everywhere he can.

You swallow every little moan that passes his lips, every hitch in his breath when he can’t keep from pushing his hips against you. He gets closer, and he wants more, but you just keep kissing him and touching him just enough.

“Can I…”

“Hmm?”

His eyes scan your face, and he pushes you flat on your back again. Before you even think of protesting, he’s on you, lips on your neck, hands on your thighs, hips grinding into yours. He stretches you out and his thumb finds your clit, still swollen and sensitive.

You focus on kissing him and letting him work. It’s not that you can’t give up control—you just usually don’t. Seungmin is making it easy, though. His pace isn’t too much. He’s not smothering you, and he’s not selfishly pounding you into the bed. Your thighs are resting on his lap, hips up, legs curled around him. And every time he slides in, his dick hits right where you need it to. You can breath between his kisses, and you can enjoy every soft movement of his fingers.

“Should’ve let you take over sooner…”

A pretty smile spreads across his face, and you get lost in his eyes; two big black crescent moons, squished by his pink cheeks. You’ve never had someone smile at you like him. Not while they fucked you like this, at least.

“So good...feels so good,” you barely hear him when he breathes it out. "Does it, baby?"

His mouth is on yours before you can answer, wet and messy, teeth biting and pulling at your lips—down to your throat, he bites and sucks and licks at the sweat forming there.

“You like leaving marks, pup?” You ask, but in your head is an echo of him calling you baby.

The mhmm against your neck makes you shiver.

“Should I keep them out for your friends to see?”

Seungmin is up and back in your face… "yes"…forehead against yours, “please.”

He’s getting so close. Whiney shallow breaths, slow deep thrusts.

“Come in me…it’s okay.”

That…and your fingers grabbing for his hair—that’s all he needed. It hits him and he falls onto you. Your hands move to wrap around his waist, and you hold tight as he slows himself and fills you up. All of his weight on you feels so good, though. His sweat and his heat, his heavy breaths moving across your face.

He shifts to kiss your neck again. Softly, though...no marks this time.

The room is quiet for a while, and only sounds are your legs rubbing against the sheets, against his thighs, the wet release of Seungmin’s lips on your skin.

“You okay?” He finally breaks the silence. “Was that okay?”

You nod and knead your fingers into his shoulders, “you have a good touch, pup.”

“I like that," he sighs, pulls himself out, crashes down next to you. But his arm stays draped over your stomach,

“Hmm, what do you like?”

He props himself up and bats his eyes at you, “I like being pup. Do you call…um, do you call other guys cute nicknames?” Seungmin looks away when he finally stutters it out.

“What makes you think there are other guys?”

And now his face turns bright red. “Oh, sorry, you’re just...you seem like you know what you're doing. You know what you want."

“It's alright. There hasn’t been anyone in a while.”

“Just me,” he whispers, and smirks.

“You’re my only pup.”

"Good."

Lips press against your shoulder, his arm squeezes and brings you closer. You can't help but lean into his embrace. Even now, after everything is done, at least for the moment, you can't escape your growing feelings for him. Sex didn't quench the desire—you don't want to get dressed and leave, you don't want to be done and rid of him until the feeling returns.

The guys you usually sleep with are one night stands for a reason, and you never think of them again when they leave. And you certainly don't give them cute nicknames.

"You threw me off a little, though."

"I did? What did I do?" he laughs, and he has no idea how much it cuts through you. "You were amazing."

"You're so sweet."

Seungmin searches your face, but he can’t figure out what’s going on in your head. It seems like you feel the same as he does, or it did, but right now is when it matters. You caught each other, you poured yourselves out all over place. Now what?

"What's wrong?" he gets even closer, and his nose is almost brushing against yours. "Coming down from everything, maybe? Do you want me to get your stuff so you can get dressed?"

"No, I don't wanna leave."

The relief that washes over his face—you can see it. He isn’t trying to be subtle, because Seungmin has already confessed his feelings to you. You kind of did, too. The difference is, you lied, because you weren’t totally, completely, one hundred percent sure until a few minutes ago.

Now he’s looking down at you like he didn’t just give you three orgasms, and like his come isn’t slowly dripping out of you.

“Not yet.”

“You can stay as long as you want.”

“I can take us to work in the morning.”

“You wanna spend the night? Ah, I can make us dinner, and breakfast…unless, maybe that’s too much.”

“No, it's not. But I am wondering something..."

He’s so eager to hear. He rests his chin on you and grins, “what is it?”

“Can we do that again? Can you really come all night?

#skz seungmin #kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin fanfic #sub!seungmin #sub seungmin #skz smut #skz fanfic #skz x reader

370 notes · View notes