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wakaoujisenhime · 3 years ago

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Aomine, kise, and Akashi with their s/o using their safe word? Maybe a short fic for each?

A/N: you got it (•̀ᴗ•́ )و …also please excuse my lack in creativity concerning the safeword, I sadly had no better and serious-sounding one than ‘RED’ .-. and I wrote this from a fem!reader’s perspective since I wasn’t sure which one you were referring to! Make sure to get back at me if you wanted it from a different perspective!! ♥️

Tags/Warnings: smut (18+!!) ✅ rough sex (in form of insufficient prep) ✅ ❚ overstimulation ✅ ❚ BDSM play ✅ shibari/bondage ✅ use of blindfold ✅ spanking ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Kise:

You knew that you should’ve insisted on talking with Kise.

The moment he came home you could already guess that something had happened and that his mood was down in the dumps. Usually, he would grin at you, hurriedly throw his shoes and jacket away, and then proceed to shower you with kisses, but today was different…

Today he’d come in and pretty much whispered that he was home, his movements were pretty sluggish, and even when you’d ran up to him the smile he gave you was barely noticeable. You were pretty quick in understanding that something had happened, so you immediately asked him about it, but he just shook his head in denial and reassured you that everything was alright and that you shouldn’t worry.

You decided to let it go for the time being and see how the evening played out, but unfortunately for you, there was no progress. Eventually, you decided to use your plan B: getting the truth out of him with sex.

He was one of those types that first needed some buttering up before they were ready to spill the beans and one of many ways - and the quickest - you succeeded in doing that was through bodily intimacy.

You had wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and started kissing his neck, whispering sweet nothings along his skin. It took a tad longer than usual for him to relax and indulge himself in your caresses, but things eventually took their course, and within a matter of minutes he’d taken over.

It felt amazingly good at first, the way his gentle hands roamed your body, exploring, experimenting, observing your reactions as he searched for your weak spots. The way your breath hitched when he began to play with your exposed nipples, paired with the slight tremble of your body as he let his fingers slide along your skin fired him up.

He’d soon gotten on top of you and while his mouth and tongue were busy pleasuring your chest’s sensitive buds, his fingers were preparing your lower body for what’s to follow…and that’s when it all went wrong.

Usually, he’d take his time to prepare you thoroughly with his fingers and his mouth. The way he enjoyed the slight thrashing of your body when he intentionally rubbed his fingertip against your g-spot never failed to make him smile proudly and your sweet moans when his tongue’s tip circled your puffy clit was the cherry on top. Next to making you feel good he also teased you occasionally. You like it like that, right? Hm? Is it here (Y/N)-cchi? You’re so cute you know that? You never told him, but his words never failed to increase the already intense pleasure you were receiving.

But today, after making out with you for a short while, he’d laid you down on your bed, raised your shirt up, freeing your breasts that he then kissed and pinched a few times before shifting his attention to your lower body. Once your panties were off you watched him lick two of his fingers and proceeded to stretch you, only problem was that after what felt like half a minute he pulled back and began unbuttoning his jeans, seemingly ready to move on.

You tensed up a little and tried to analyze the meaning of his rather absentminded facial expression. Many thoughts crossed your mind, such as him planning on having dry sex with you or just using his cock to get you wetter, but as soon as you felt his tip against your entrance, your mind went blank.

One of your hands stretched out towards the young man’s chest, planning on pushing him back a little, but a sharp pain made you freeze up on the spot. With wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, you looked up at the ceiling as you felt the painful way your walls were being stretched apart. Your free hand took a tight grip on the bed sheets, while the one on Kise’s chest ended up scratching his skin and even managed to draw some blood. All of these wordless pleas went unnoticed, your boyfriend’s attention was elsewhere but despite that, he didn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth.

The pain gradually faded away but didn’t disappear completely and slowly but surely it became unbearable for you. Despite wanting to groan in pain, you bit the inner side of your cheek and began stuttering: “R-Ryou, wait please!”

Your voice was hoarse and slightly raspy from forcing back your pained moans so it barely managed to reach the young man’s ears. After vainly trying for a few more times you needed to resort to more drastic measures, so you moved both of your hands up to Kise’s face, taking a tight hold of his cheeks.

“Kise Ryouta! Red!”

The combination of his full name and the safeword both of you had agreed upon just in case, finally succeeded in catching his attention.

His eyes widened slowly as he realized what was going on. You're tensed up and slightly sweaty body beneath him, the pulsating pain in his chest, the almost painful tightness of your rather dry walls, and the most agonizing image for him: your pale face and slightly reddened lips.

Panic contorted his earlier calm facial features and he immediately pulled out, causing you to hiss at this unexpected motion.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)-cchi, I-I’m so so sorry, I–…god…h-how could this happen? W-What did I…what did I d-do?”

The tremble in his voice caused him to stutter as his shaking hands ran along your body in order to make sure that he hadn’t hurt you in any other way. His fingertips barely made contact with your skin, because he was afraid of touching you in some kind of way that could harm you any further. It was obvious that your usage of the safeword had shaken him up, even more than you’d expected, but this was your only option at that time…

With a sad smile, you took his hands in yours, brought them up to your lips, and kissed his knuckles, the sudden gesture making him flinch.

“Ryouta…do I now have your attention?” you softly asked, your kind tone moving him to tears as he ever so carefully embraced you and started apologizing multiple times. The earlier pain might not have been completely gone, but that was secondary, now you caressed the blond head that was buried in the crack of your neck, wet tears dripping down from your collarbone to your chest. In between your lover’s sobs you silently reassured and lectured him about how he shouldn’t go along with your antics if he wasn’t up for it.

When Kise had calmed down he finally raised his head to face you, his snotty and tear-stained face making you smile, as he once again begged for your forgiveness, promising you that the next time his mood was off he’d talk to you about it instead of bottling it up. Knowing that he was a man of his words you nodded proudly and gave his lips a tender kiss.

“Now then…ready for a second attempt?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Aomine:

Being Aomine’s lover was like a rollercoaster ride, at times he could be the person of your dreams while on others he was an unbearable asshole. Even though his attitude managed to make you see red ever so often, it also made your sexual life spicier.

He was a beast in bed, who managed to push you beyond your limits every single time. There was no such thing as can’t for him.

You can’t get into a certain position? He’ll make sure to mold your body into the position he wants you to be, regardless of how flexible you are or aren’t.

You can’t take his teasing anymore and want him to penetrate you? Sorry sweetheart but you’ll have to wait until he’s up for it and until then you’re free to beg and whine about it, providing him with further music to his ears.

You can’t hold your orgasm back any longer and want to cum? Telling him that is a bad move really because the moment he hears that he’ll grin to himself and stop all movements, wait for your body to calm down despite your numerous pleas, and resume only when he’s confident that you’re far away from reaching your high.

And it was precisely because of these past experiences that the two of you had agreed upon a safeword that you were to use only when things went too far. Both you and Aomine were confident that such a time wouldn’t come, until today…

While you were folding the laundry, your lover was in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes you’d more or less had to force him to do. Upon remembering his pouty face you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, not noticing the tall young man creep up behind you with a mischievous grin.

“Got you!” he called out as he wrapped his arms around your body and pressed himself towards your back. You were caught off guard for a split second but decided to indulge his playfulness as a ‘reward’ for doing the dishes, but your lover unexpectedly took your well-meant intention out of proportion…

“Daiki…w-wait!” you manage to stammer out, your shaky hand gently slapping against the back of the bigger hand that’s hooked around your rib cage. Without fulfilling your request the man behind you keeps the thrust of his hips steady, as he palms your left breast and kneads it.

His slightly chapped lips run along the slight curve of your neck and pepper it with sloppy kisses. You flinch as you feel his other hand slide down your body, heading straight for your clit, and without wasting another second, starts massaging it.

Your vision gets blurry as you feel his rough finger mercilessly draw circles on your already sensitive bud and your moans grow louder as he bottoms out deep inside of you, the slapping of his balls further amplifying the squelching noise echoing in the room. All you can do is cling to him as you feel the knot inside you slowly tightening and dreading to burst any second from all the ministrations.

“You gonna cum?” he asks in a low whisper while nibbling on your ear. You bite your lower lip and nod multiple times as you squeeze your eyes shut and ready yourself for your orgasm.

The moment your walls squeezed down on Aomine’s shaft it made him shudder in pleasure and groan out a silent that’s it as he slowed down his hips’ thrusts, letting you indulge in your orgasm. His deep blue eyes fondly observed the way your body twitched and the slight tremble of your thighs against his own made him tighten his grip around you. While you were still trying to recover from the intense wave of pleasure that had shaken you, you felt how your boyfriend’s cock hardened inside of you, but before you could call out to him, the man took a fistful of your hair and pushed your face down on the pile of folded clothes before you.

He resumed his earlier thrusting speed, but thanks to the slight change in positions he managed to hit the entrance to your womb every single time his hips collided with your soft behind. Truth be told, when Aomine saw you - the person he loved so much - cum that hard by his hands it flipped a switch inside of him. The young man was usually holding many of his kinks and desires back out of worry for the consequences they’d have on your body, but right now all these worries had disappeared and were replaced by a single thought.

I’ll give her an orgasm that will mess her up

You felt an enormous weight push your back further into the mattress, your legs were spread apart, pulled back, and trapped beneath muscular calves. Something told you that whatever was about to happen it wasn’t going to be pleasant, so before your lover began you reached back, searching for his hand and whispering out his name in a slightly trembling voice.

Whatever your intention was, it was completely ignored by your boyfriend, because the moment he heard the silent call of his name he began to downright fuck you as if there was no tomorrow. Your eyes widened at the fast speed at which you were spread apart and the way his body had pinned you to the bed provided you with further friction that made you tear up.

You wished you could say that it felt good, but that might have been the case on another day where you hadn’t cum as hard as you did a few minutes ago. Right now you were in pain. Every thrust forward made your stomach tense up painfully, while each graze of the bedsheets against your abused clit made you jump; you were just so sensitive from before that anything Aomine did, made you shudder and jump as if he was throwing ice-cold water at your burning skin.

Even when you loudly pleaded with him to wait or stop, he seemingly didn’t hear you and kept going. So with not much of a choice left, you tried pushing yourself back against him, your safeword escaping your lips. ”Aomine, stop! Red! Red!“

And just like that all of his movements seized almost immediately, the weight on your back was lifted in an instant, and you were carefully pulled up right into the man’s muscular arms. He didn’t have to say anything, the tight hold around your sore body was enough to get the message across.

You relaxed against his chest and let your head drop on his shoulder as you finally granted your body a well-deserved break from all the over-stimulation. Only when you felt better did you wrap your arms around him.

“…’m sorry (Y/N)” he mumbled against your head in an unusually regretful and pained tone. Having you use the safeword the two of you had agreed upon was something neither of you thought would happen and now that it did, it was quite shocking.

You closed your eyes and planted a soft kiss on his neck, your hand moving up to the back of his head and gently ruffled his slightly sweaty hair.

“It’s ok Daiki, just…just let me rest for a bit next time before going all out like that, ok?”

He leaned back to look into your eyes and sniffled silently, before nodding a few times and giving you a peck on the lips.

Akashi:

Being as perfectionistic as Akashi was in nearly everything proved to be good in certain situations, though truth be told, the young man had bettered himself and was now less hard on himself than before, mainly thanks to you.

In the first few months of your relationship with him, everything was going perfectly well, including your sexual life. He was very attentive and always listened to any worry or topic you had on your mind, not only that but he was also very quick to pick up whenever something didn’t sit well with you. The best example of such a moment was when you’d first started having sex with each other.

Everything was, as expected, perfect but as time went on you felt like something was missing. It just wasn’t enough, you thought and it took you a while to bring it up and when you finally did things turned out to be unexpectedly different.

“Just use the safeword whenever you feel like it’s becoming too much for you or when you’re uncomfortable or anything of that sort, ok?” he softly asks as he tightens the last knot of the red rope around your body, watching you nod in agreement.

The young man took a few steps back to admire his handiwork and deeply breathed in as he pulled out a thin black fabric from one of the shelves. His slender and slightly rough hands brought the fabric around your face and before robbing you of your vision completely, he wanted to confirm the safeword one last time.

“What do you say when you want me to stop?”

“…red” you answered in a silent but firm voice, your response earning you a gentle kiss on the nape of your neck before everything went dark.

The silence and darkness that surrounded you, made you so nervous that you could practically hear the way your heart thumped against your bosom. Your breathing quickened and caused the ropes to practically bore into your skin with each lift of your chest. When you felt the gentle hands of your beloved trail down your back it made goosebumps adorn your skin and you slightly shivered at the prickling sensation.

Just as you’d gotten used to it, the warmth left your back and with your heightened senses, you listened to the faint steps of the red-haired young man who yet again turned around to pull something out of the drawer once more. While Akashi was doing that you tried to get a better feel for the ropes that were constraining your movements, so you wiggled slightly.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to move around now did I?” you heard a low voice mutter behind you and before you could apologize you felt something cold hit your exposed butt. You yelped out in surprise and instinctively attempted to raise your hand to cover your mouth, but the ropes stopped you mid-movement, their rough structure leaving faint marks behind.

After that failed attempt you began to take slow but deep breaths, ignoring the tight feeling surrounding your body. That’s when you felt the object Akashi had spanked you with touch your back and trace your spine’s curve with the leathery surface.

“I trust you’ll behave so that I don’t have to do that again” he cooed next to your ear, kissing it gently while eagerly awaiting your response.

Being in control was nothing new to the young man and it usually didn’t mean much, but now that the person he loved was at the palm of his hands, leaving both their vision and body entirely to him gave him a new sense of power he’d never felt before. His hands were trembling with excitement and just the mere thought of all the possibilities that this little play had in store for you made the tent in his pants feel tighter than before.

Not receiving an answer for that short while during which he fantasized about the upcoming pleasure and sweet pain he’d provide you with, made him a tad impatient, so he brought his arm around your body and teasingly tugged on the knot between your breasts while his other hand lifted the black leather belt from your back and prepared for another spank.

“So you’re not going to answer, huh?”

spank

You tensed your muscles and bit your lower lip as you felt the object hit your buttocks for a second time, but instead of the same tingling sensation from before it hurt, and whenever the cold air around you made contact with your reddened skin it burned so bad that it knocked the air out of your lungs, leaving you behind panting and gasping for air.

Mentally you were still stuck at the first time he spanked you, his unexpected words and the surprising roughness he treated you with were still stuck in your mind.

Was that really the same Akashi who treated you like a delicate flower during your first few times? Did he use his entire strength or is he still holding back?

Question after question poured into your mind, but before you could speak one of them aloud you were slapped yet another time.

“You must be really feeling it if you’re defying me for that long”

N-No…i-it hurts

You clenched your fists and let your nails dig into the ropes around your hands to try and cope with the pain and the way he played with your nipples wasn’t helping.

“S-Sei…w-wait”

“Hm? What was that my dear? I think you might want to speak up a little, or else I won’t know what you want” he said in a playful tone, positioning the belt on your bruised skin.

“N-No, Seijuro please!” you begged, body thrashing around, disregarding the slight sting of the ropes. You felt his gentle arms protectively wrap around your body as he leaned his chin on your shoulders and said: “(Y/N)…we agreed on something, didn’t we?”

His voice was silent but carried a certain amount of sternness that made you freeze up and look down in shame. Through gritted teeth, you whispered out the safeword and remained motionless as your lover began removing the ropes around your body. Much to your surprise, they were tighter than expected, so the moment they were loose enough for removal, you felt your blood circulation resume its course without disruption, making you feel a little weak on your knees.

“It wasn’t that hard now was it, (Y/N)?” Akashi asked as he carefully removed your blindfold and walked around you, now facing you. He let his eyes glide up and down your body, regret distorting his facial features.

“I-I’m sorry Sei, I just…I didn’t want to back out because it wa–”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know” he interrupted and caressed your cheeks before finishing what he intended to tell you, “but I told you to use our safeword if something wasn’t to your liking, didn’t I?”

You nodded and apologized to him, but you were still not looking into his eyes, only when he lifted your chin with his finger did your eyes meet. With a small smile, he gave your lips a soft kiss and smiled. “Just make sure to speak up next time, ok? I’ll never be mad at you or anything if you do…this is why we agreed on a safeword after all, right?”

A wide grin adorned your lips as you nodded energetically a few times and wrapped your arms around the neck of your boyfriend, relieved and happy that you worked it out.

#knb scenarios #kuroko no basket smut #knb smut #kise smut #aomine smut #akashi smut #━𝙺𝙽𝙱 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

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6sakusa · 4 years ago

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‘broken’ miya atsumu.

a/n : lol i almost cried writing this so enjoy.

warnings : angst, physical violence (slap), mentions of cheating, mild swearing, me not proof reading.

“y/n, i love you and i want to spend the rest of my life by your side, so will you marry me?” you watched your boyfriend of four years get on one knee. he had told you earlier on to dress up nicely as it was a ‘special’ occasion. you assumed the only reason was the fact that the two of you were going to one of the best resturants in the city which would no doubt produce a bank breaking bill. but you were wrong, the occasion was special and you could easily name it as one of the best moments of your life.

it was hard to imagine that anything would be able to overshadow this, the feeling of bliss in your heart as he said those words to you, the sparkle in your eyes as you watched him pull at the ring which he clearly spent a fortune on, the round of applause ringing in the background from the on-lookers who were also dining. perhaps the only thing that would be better than this would be the birth of your first child, or all your children in fact.

you’d always imagined a life with miya atsumu the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend, you knew that he was more of the apartment type, specifically penthouses since his professional volleyball career allowed him a generous pay. you on the other hand had always been a house type, you longed for something big enough to nurture a family in, the two of you had been bickering about this for years since high school since the both of you were so sure that you would end up being his wife.

“yes, yes, yes oh my god of course i’ll marry you.” you squealed in excitement leaping into his arms with the biggest smile you had ever flaunted in your entire life. and those were the words he wanted to hear more than anything because he too had imagined a perfect life with you.. if only he could abide by it.

you rested in his arms, only pulling away to run your fingers over the pricey ring he had bought you. and of course he knew you’d love it when you had it saved to one of your pinterest boards for years.

“congratulations.” an array of customers proclaimed giving in to the celebratory atmosphere. truly, this was everything you could have asked for in life, you had a wonderful fiance, a beautiful place to live, you were thriving in your career and your social life was buzzing, curtesy of many of atsumu’s friends.

“do you like it?” he asked taking your hand to admire how beautiful you looked under the lighting positioned directly under your table. in addition, the stunning dress you had picked for the night was making you anything but resistible. how badly he wanted to tear the fabric off you and pound into you until sunrise was something he was struggling to hide.

“it’s beautiful.” you were mesmerised by the sight of it and your fiancé’s thoughtfulness, there was a love erupting in you that you weren’t even aware it was possible to feel for another person.

“let’s go home and.. celebrate.” he smirked with a smug expression on his face leading you towards the car. you knew exactly what he was thinking and how needy he was getting but tonight especially you would allow him to indulge in his lewd thoughts.

he held the car door open for you, he noted how much you loved this model, in fact it was your favourite one. it was one of the many things he noted about you as he planned to buy all the things you liked. maybe then you would forgive him, right? he hoped so.

he tapped against the steering wheel as the two of you drove down the night streets of tokyo, you assumed it was out of impatience because you were too distracted by your own thoughts to be as observant as usual with your boyfriends emotional state.

“y/n.. i need to tell you something.” he looked out of the window avoiding making eye contact with you as his drumming got louder. you turned to face him, readying yourself for him to make one of his usual silly jokes, or maybe one of his lewd speeches that would often come out when he got particularly riled up by you.

“what is it?” you asked with a light chuckle, the atmosphere of just a few minutes ago still buzzing within you.

“i- there’s no right way to say this but .. a couple months ago i slept with another woman and — i can’t bear the thought of you marrying me without knowing.” his words spilled out, there was barely a space between them and to any one else it would have been completely incoherent.

“what are you talking about ‘tsumu? that’s not funny.” you rolled your eyes with a smile leaning back into the passenger seat feeling the way the car moved on the smooth roads beneath you. there was a brief pause before atsumu decided to speak again, and between those seconds you thought absolutely nothing of his words. how you wish he would have just laughed along and stayed quiet, why? why did he have to tell you?

“i’m being serious.” he clenched his jaw causing you to whip your head in his direction, his eyes were still ahead on the road but he could feel your glare boaring into his skull. he couldn’t bare to face you, no — he didn’t deserve to face you.

“what?” your expression faltered, a new atmosphere dawned between the both of you. one that was a lot thicker — almost suffocating and heavily juxtaposed the one from the resturant. there was a million thoughts going through your mind right now, how was this possible? how did you not notice? how long had this been going on? why was he just telling you now? it was almost impossible to process it all at once with the feeling of your heart pounding out of your chest and your stomach getting ready to reject the food that you had eaten just minutes ago.

“i’m sorry i just, i got carried away that day you know? it was only a one time thing but i—“ his voice was cut off by a harsh slap to his cheek. you watched as the surface of his face turned red, he didn’t bother reprimanding you for getting physical, if he was being honest he expected it from you, actually he expected more. it was almost scary the way you weren’t shouting and screaming at him, the way you weren’t kicking and clawing away at him, it made him feel all the much worse.

you sighed to yourself, your breath was shaky as your heart was shattering in your chest and you hadn’t even noticed that you were crying. maybe it was because you were too occupied realising the way your life had all come crashing down in a matter of moments. your fiancé had cheated on you.. what does that mean for your relationship? would you even call him your fiancé anymore? and what about your home with him? not to mention the friendships you had with an array of his friends. what did this all mean?

“why?” your voice was below a whisper, you could barely muster up the voice to speak, there was a sickening feeling in your chest that you were way too focused on instead of your words.

“it wasn’t you.. it’s never been you, you’re perfect you’re everything i’ve ever wanted, i don’t know why, i’m just an idiot i was so stupid and i’ve regretted it everyday since... but i’m gonna fix it i promise i’ll fix it.” his voice was shaky and uneven, you could tell without looking at him that he was on the verge of tears. but that was nothing compared to what you were feeling. the fact that you had laid next to him for months without knowing that he had bedded another woman. did he touch her the way he did you? did he prefer her to you? was she prettier than you?

“how? how are you going to fix it?” you turned to him, tears staining your mascara and eyeliner, there was no doubt know that you looked like a mess. what you didn’t know is that atsumu still thought you were the prettiest girl in the world but you were too occupied being hit by the crushing realisation that the best moment of your life had just turned into the worst. love had so easily turned to hate and all your time together meant absolutely nothing to you anymore.

“well we’re going to get married right? and you’ve always liked this car right babe? i’ll buy you one. and there’s that house you always wanted, i can put a down payment on it today—“

“no.” you buried your head into your hands at the thought of your next words. four years? what did four years of your life mean now? what did you have left? “we’re not getting married.”

“wha— but you already said yes, come on don’t be like that, don’t you remember it was just a few minutes ago, you were so happy.” he spewed out words frantically, desperate to say something, anything, that would make you stay. he was prepared to sell his soul if it meant keeping you by his side, the only woman he had ever loved, the only one he had ever imagined a future with, the only one he wanted to start a family with, you were his everything.

“that was before you told me that you cheated on me and here you are throwing all these material things at me, a car? really miya? four years together and you’re here treating me like some gold-digging whore after breaking my heart? that’s why you proposed to me isn’t it? you think this ring will make me stay.” you were crying uncontrollably now and nothing atsumu could say to you or offer you would ever make you feel better.

“miya? y/n please i don’t know what else to do i’m trying to be honest with you—“

“pull over.” you interrupted him once again and he had no choice but to oblige. he knew that right now he was in no position to deny your wishes. but this was all temporary.. because you would come around right?

“i don’t understand why you would do this to me.” you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, your head was spinning and it felt like your throat was closing up. you needed to leave, because miya atsumu was now too suffocating for you to be around.

“i know, i know i’m sorry, please y/n i’m so sorry — look i’m getting the house now i still want a future with you.” he tugged on your arm begging you to look at his phone where he was already entering his account details for the place you had been fawning over.

“don’t fucking touch me.” you swatted his hand away. you didn’t want him to be anywhere near you knowing how close he had been with another.

“i’ll give you space if you need it, i’ll give you whatever you want just please — don’t leave me, please don’t.” his hands were shaking now as he tried entering various different numbers into his phone, he didn’t care if he had to buy the entire house now, he’d pay for the whole thing this second if it meant he could walk you down the aisle in a couple months time.

“i don’t need anything from you.. i don’t want this anymore, forget about that house, forget about a family together, forget about marrying me.”

“no no no y/n you’re just angry right now but please don’t say things like that you don’t know how it makes me feel.” he turned to face you and his heart clenched at the tears running down your face. your makeup was smudged and you had pushed yourself to the very edge of the car just to make sure you were as far away from him as possible.

“and what about how i feel huh? did you think about that when you were fucking some other girl wherever the two of you were? you have no idea how i feel, you have no idea..” you brought your hands to your face, concealing your weak figure from his eyes.

“i don’t want this.” you removed the ring from your finger, the same one you had saved to your pinterest board for years, the same one you had imagined atsumu using to propose to you countless times, the same one that had featured in both the best and worst moment of your life.

“y/n please..” his words were stuck in his throat now, he was finally realising that there was nothing he could say — nothing he could do to make you stay. you wouldn’t come around, you respected yourself too highly for that, he would never be able to call you his again. what did his life mean?

“i hate you miya atsumu.” you pushed the door open walking out of his car despite how much he begged you to stay. you didn’t care how he chased you down the road, you didn’t care what he said to you, you didn’t think you would ever care again.. you didn’t have it in you.

and the curse placed upon atsumu? he would never be able to find love again, because he betrayed the only person to stay by his side with unconditional love for years .. there was no one on the planet who loved him the way you did.

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yuu-says · 4 years ago

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cries this all started because of zhongli’s tattoos- how did i end up with an almost fully structured royalty au for zhongli and xiao pLEASE IM PERISHING 😭😭 might mess around and write a continuation of this one day umu we shall see uwu i say like i don’t have a draft already written oops-

As always, i’ll be cross-posting to my ao3 acc! uwu

Pairing : Zhongli/Reader

Word count : 1002

Summary : In the confines of his room, atop the comforts of his bed, Zhongli indulges himself in the warmth of another - arms wound around their waist as their hands roamed his back, tracing the patterns etched into his skin as he melts into the embrace. He wondered if he could ever experience such a thing again.

Zhongli sighed in content as he felt fingers run across his back, lightly tracing the patterns etched on his skin as he buried his face in the crook of their neck. He inhaled deeply, the scent of soap and herbs filling his senses as their hair lightly tickled his face. The hands stuttered, the person in his arms tensing considerably as their face flushed even further.

When _______ was tasked with looking over the prince’s wounds some weeks ago, they hadn’t expected him to be so… affectionate? Touchy? Demanding…? With them. Royals rarely mixed with the common blood afterall. And certainly not in the way that _____ was now- with their knees planted on either side of the prince, arms wrapped around their midsection to keep them in their place; in his lap, where he felt they belonged.

Flustered, the (h/c) tried to pull back - trembling hands grazing over his skin before it settled lightly on his shoulders. There was a groan of discontent from the man as they pushed him away, their heart pounding a million miles a minute as his amber gold eyes lazily look up at him. His grip on their waist tightened and _____ just about felt their throat constricting due to the action.

“Y-Your highness, I-” their eyes widened as Zhongli tilted his head, the same barely readable expression settling on his face as he patiently waited for them to speak. Meanwhile, ______ was having the time of their life. Dying. They averted their eyes away from him but found they didn’t know where to look - the man was naked from the waist-up afterall!

I was trained to upkeep the castle, not for!! this!!

The prince watched their gaze flitter and flicker about - once settling on his chest before quickly roaming around the room again. They took great care to avoid meeting his eyes - quickly averting their gaze if they so happened to meet his and, finally, they settled upon staring out the nearby window. He watched their jaw tightening as they contemplated their next move, the ever-present flush of their cheeks making him want to press his lips against their skin.

He knew it wasn’t his place.

With the power imbalance between the two, it would be wholly unfair to them if he were to exert his dominance as such.

But he couldn’t help it.

A silent gasp tore itself from their throat as the prince did what he sought to do - pressing his lips on the underside of their jaw as his hands tightened around them. He knew, with his injuries healing, it would only be a matter of time before the young (h/c) was to go about their daily tasks once more; them falling into a routine where Zhongli would seldom see them again.

Just like before.

“M-My prince…!” they all but squeaked, the flush of their cheeks gaining a darker shade as they leaned back - trying to create space between the two without falling off the prince’s lap. They covered the place his lips had touched, their hands visibly trembling at the sudden action.

Cute.

“I… I don’t think it’s appro-!… appropriate for you to be doing this, your highness…!” the words could barely leave their tongue as the (h/c) closed their eyes in embarrassment. Their head spun, trying to process the actions of the regal and silent prince; had he always been like this? None of the castle staff who had interacted with him had ever brought up such tales??? Of course, ______ had seen him during balls and social conducts and such- but those were acts reserved for people of similar standing were they not?!

As they were busy dying inside their brains, the black-haired prince simply stared at him - affection filling his gaze as he smiled softly. He pondered for a moment if he should get strike down again just so he can request his mother to let them be his caretaker again. She had taken it well the first time he’d requested it, maybe she wouldn’t be so suspicious of a second?

“Forgive me,” he chuckled in that deep soothing baritone of his, his thumb drawing patterns on the small of their back as he rested his forehead against their shoulder. He could feel himself trembling slightly at the proximity, a contact he had longed for ever since they had caught his attention all those years ago.

He just didn’t expect his curiousity to lead to affection. And then to deep love.

“If it does not trouble you, please let me stay like this for a while longer. It would please me… if you could humour this one request,” he was so at peace - so, so at peace… and who was ______ to say no? They watched silently as he breathed deeply, shoulders falling as he fell into a state of relaxation with them in his arms.

For a moment, they feared he would hear their heart - beating erratically and painfully against the cage of their chest; unaware that his heart was reacting exactly the same.

Zhongli shuddered, biting back a whimper as he felt their hands grazing across his back once more - hesitant fingers lightly trailing against the patterns on his upper body as another settled upon his shoulder. That, he gripped, lifting his head so that he may make eye contact with them once more as he guided their hand to his cheek, lips brushing against the inside of their palm as he looked at them affectionately. He enjoyed the flush of their cheeks once more, drinking in their appearance and etching it into memory - to remain in his heart until the day he breathed his last.

“Thank you, my gem,”

#yuu writes #imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #I WANNA INCLUDE XIAO AND NOELLE IN THIS SOON IM YELLINNGGG #also claws at you #please talk to me about zhongli royalty au i neED FOOD

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peakyxtommy · 4 years ago

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Kidnapped - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby and his wife are going to have their first baby in a week. She gets kidnapped due to Tommy’s business dealings. He has to find her and their unborn baby in time. (Requested By: @babylooneytoonz)

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mild Violence

A/N: Sorry this took me so long to complete. Thank you so much for your patience, greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy this and I really enjoyed writing this!!

It was starting to get colder in Birmingham, as December was almost here with Christmas right around the corner. You had one week left until it was time to give birth to the growing baby in your stomach. You couldn’t have been happier for the arrival of your first born son. When you found out the news you were excited and a little nervous to tell Tommy, unsure of what his reaction was going to be. After the initial shock of the words left your mouth, he was just as happy as you to have his baby. He drove you just as wild as you drove him during these past almost nine months.

You put up with his over-protectiveness of always having someone travel with you where you went, having to let the maids help more than usual, and helping him deal with his doubts about becoming a father. Always reminding him of how much you trusted him and how he cared his best but showed it differently than others. He dealt with your morning sickness, cravings, mood swings of where you’d get angry with him over small things, sad over things that were normal or didn’t make you cry before, and your changing body which he always made sure you felt loved and comfortable in whatever you were wearing. He was sweet, supportive, and helpful as much as he could be through the whole pregnancy.

Today was no different as you found yourself getting a little fussy and annoyed with how cleaned and prepared everything was becoming for the arrival of the baby. Being stuck in the house the past few days because of the snow didn’t help. You finally convinced your husband of two years to let you come to the betting shop with him.

“Can you please help me put my shoes on Tom?” You sigh as you walk into your husband’s office. He zips up his bag as you come closer to the large mahogany desk. His blue eyes meet yours with a small grin.

“Who said you were leaving the house?” He gives you a serious look as you roll your eyes at his mocking.

“I said I am leaving this house before I burn it to the ground. If you don’t let me out, you will be burning to the ground with it.” You tease playfully, swatting him on the chest, as he pulls the chair out for you to take a seat as he begins doing up the laces.

“Who knew I married an arsonist.” He plays along, as you stand to leave, swatting you on your bum as you make your way to the front door.

As soon as you arrive at the office after greeting everyone and talking to the women for a little bit, you take a seat in the rocking chair, he got just for you and your growing bump. You curl up under the huge blue blanket and begin to finish reading a baby book your mother got you as he writes letters that need to be sent. It’s only a little after 1pm when your baby starts kicking around and your stomach begins to growl.

“Tommy we’re hungry.” You speak, removing the blanket from your body. You stand folding and hanging it on the back of the chair, making your way to your husband's chair.

“You’re hungry, how can I be of assistance.” He moves his papers to the side as you take a seat upon the desk with his assistance. His warm hands find your growing bump and begin rubbing small circles enjoying the feeling of knowing he was going to see his son soon. He could feel the love growing in his heart as the day got closer.

“I think we want fish and chips again for the 100th time.” You laugh as you knew Tom was tired of having this meal but would indulge you sometimes but often more than not would just get a sandwich.

“Alright, I’ll call it in. Maybe we’ll stop at the sweets shop on the way back.” His blue eyes pierce into your eyes. You couldn’t be any happier than you were to be with him. In these moments he was yours and yours only, wrapped in a little world. If only it could stay this way forever.

It’s only a short while longer until it’s time to pick up the meal. As soon as you are ready to leave with Tom, a blinder man walks in with a worried expression.

“Tommy, there’s an emergency, you’re needed on the phone.” He nods helping you off the desk, before picking up the phone. As soon as the call ends, he explains, he's needed at one of the docks. There’s an issue with the police. He wasn’t sure if he was going to go, but decided to.

“Sorry love, but I should be back in an hour tops.” His warm lips press into the skin on your forehead. It says all that you both need at the moment. He tells his men to go with you and make sure to get you back safely.

If only life could be that simple for Thomas Shelby.

You enter the car with Kyle, your usual driver and one of the young blinders James that Tommy recently hired. You enjoyed both their company and trusted them with your life. As you begin the drive to the restaurant you don’t notice the car tailing slowly behind you all.

The first stop goes fine without any complications. You ask to drive to the sweet shop to pick up some treats for yourselves and the office. You go inside and talk with Dolares who owns the bakery. Picking out the sweets, when all of a sudden you hear loud gunshots outside the shop, followed by screaming on the inside of the shop. All the commotion goes quiet as you’re met with two tall guys in black hats with a golden symbol on top with guns.

“Give Us, (Y/N) Shelby, Now!” The first guy screams waving his gun in the air.

“And nobody gets hurt!” His accomplice screams after James begins to draw his gun to take a shot. The gunshot goes off. It ends with James on the floor clutching his arm, yelling out in agony.

“I’ll go with you! Please don’t hurt anyone else.” You plead feeling the adrenaline rush through your body with fear to your core. The guy on the right, takes your arm tightly in his, tugging you along with him, as his gun points into the crowd of scared civilians watching in horror as the first guy opens the door. They shove you into a car and blindfold you, making their getaway.

The event takes longer than anticipated. By the time he gets back to the office he finds himself to be actually hungry and ready to rest for a moment in your presence before completing the never ending mountain of work on his desk. As soon as he opens the door to the shop, he can tell something is wrong. He could feel the tension as he entered the room. The workers were silent and no one was looking him in the eyes. Arthur calls him into the office, shutting the door behind them, as he walks inside to see his brothers, cousin, Polly and only one of the men he sent with him. He double scans the room noticing your missing but thinking maybe you were in the loo.

“What’s wrong with all of you? Like like the lot of you, have seen a fucking bloody ghost.” He speaks noticing the straight faces of his family and nervousness of his younger brothers.

“Tell him Arthur!” Polly huffs, staring at the eldest Shelby brother who approached in front of his brother.

“Listen Tom…” Arthur begins but his brother’s impatience gets the best of him.

“Just spit it out will you!” He shouts, thrashing his hands in the air.

“They took (Y/N) and the baby.” He responds and Tommy feels his blood run cold. He feels sick in the pit of his stomach and body is overcome with emotion as his head falls into his brother’s shoulder screaming out your name, as Arthur pats his shoulder, calling out reassurances to try to get him to calm down. It takes a few minutes for him to get a small grip on himself, trying not to let his mind travel to the worse case scenario.

“What do we know so far? Where are the men I sent with her?” He asks, fishing out a smoke from his pocket.

“James was with her when the accident occurred. He got shot in the arm, so we sent him to get patched up. He’ll be fine, but he said the men were older. Kyle said, they must have been following them for a while, before they even left.” Arthur continues to tell the information.

“Well let's start searching the area and calling around. We’ve wasted enough time. We need to find her, she’s due any day now.” He speaks in a calm tone and claps his hands as every gets up to get to work on finding you.

All he knew as he began his search for you was that he needed to find you and fast. He wouldn’t forgive or be able to live with himself if something happened to you and let alone his unborn son. It would be the day hell froze over and Thomas Shelby couldn’t handle going to Hell, not just yet.

You hear the car go down a gravel road before making a sharp stop. You hear the doors open and slam shut, before you are forcibly grabbed to be ushered out the car and into a cold building. You can smell the makings of bread and liquor before you behind a room with a musky smell to it. Your capturer finally lets you go and releases the blindfold from your eyes. You take in the small space of the red brick walls and bags of flour on one side of the room. The room is almost completely dark except for a small light shining from the window from the inside of the building.

“This is where you’ll stay if your husband ever comes to find you. The guy from the scene speaks in a dark tone, shutting and locking the bolt behind him. There you begin to take steps around the small room, the adrenaline finally leaving your body as you are able to calm down for a moment. It doesn’t take away the fear, making it become more prevalent than before. Your mind worries about James, the baby, and Tommy. You start to take deep breaths to soothe yourself and decide to talk to the baby in your stomach to take your mind off it all.

“Hey little guy it’s mummy. I just wanted to let you know everything is going to be okay. Mummy is going to protect us while we’re here in this new place. Your daddy is out looking for us, I'm sure of it. He’s going to find us, I promise. All I need you to do, is to stay inside just until daddy comes and finds us. We love you.” You pace around the small dingy room, crying, as your fingers rub your stomach, while trying to get your mind off the situation at hand.

You didn’t want to put too much stress on your body on top of this already stressful situation. It didn’t help that your baby was supposed to be coming literally any day and now you were far away from his father and family. You hoped Tommy would find you both before you went into labor because you didn’t think you could manage going through it alone, let alone in a dangerous situation as this was. As you sat down against a bag of flour, you closed your eyes to sleep, feeling your son give a small kick, giving you peace.

It was two days later and Tommy was actually closer to finding out where you were. He sent calls down to the docks, Camden town, and city of London to spread the word that you were missing and to be on the lookout. He barely slept more than five hours each night, due to Polly harassing him. Telling him that he would be no good to you tired and out of sorts. Each night he could barely fall asleep with fear gripping his heart about you and wondering if you were okay. Waking up in a cold sweat of him never finding you or finding dead somewhere.

“We know who took her! We have an address.” John speaks running into his office, as he just arrived to try to think over who wanted to target him.

“Who? Where is she?!”

“It’s the Malone brothers, they wanted to get revenge on you for that deal. The ones with the guns and the booze. 17 Crown St London, there’s warehouses nearby.” John reads before handing his older brother the piece of paper in his hand, who began staring at it as his last resort.

“Let’s go give them an even better deal and show them they don’t mess with Thomas Shelby.” He rages as his brother follows, meeting the others in the car as they drive off fast to London.

You had been stuck in this room for two days and felt yourself getting weaker and weaker. All they gave you was small cups of water and a few scraps of bread. You wondered if Tommy was any closer to finding you or if you were going to be kept here forever. You still trusted he was going to find you, but you just hoped he would get there soon, because you couldn’t survive much longer in this condition, especially with the strain of the baby.

“Start looking in all the warehouses and when you find them, save them for me.” He orders as he and the blinders began causing chaos. He and Arthur start checking warehouses together. Once they reach the third, they enter quietly. Walking down the long dark hall following the light at the end. When they get there they see the Malone brothers laughing together.

“Oi boys, sorry to crash the party, but we have some business to handle.” Arthur shoots his gun into the air.

“Took you long enough to find us.” The eldest Craig, responds as they draw their weapons.

“Think you’ve been in the game too long, that you’re losing your touch.” Darrel, the other man snares.

“Where’s my wife?!” Thomas close points the gun right in his face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. How are you sure we didn’t kill her?” He responds condescendingly, spitting.

“If she was dead, you wouldn’t be breathing as long as you have.” He takes the the first punch

while Arthur takes the other. Both giving them a pounding and throwing firsts in his face repeatedly. He takes the blade slicing his eyes, blood splattering everywhere. He takes a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline spurring him on his search to find you. He goes around the corner going down a corridor and he hears banging on a door half way through on the left. He looks at the bolt taking a second to figure it out, before of twisting the huge bolt, to find you screaming for help.

“Tommy!” Your voice cries out to him as he takes you into his arms. You can smell the stench of blood on him, but glad to be with him.

“I’m here love, I’m Here. I’ve got you.” He holds you close to his chest for a second longer before deciding to move you out. He lifts you into his arms holding you tight to his chest, instructing you to close your eyes. Not wanting you to see the messy scene inside the building, as just hearing it was traumatizing enough. You were used to him coming home covered in blood and bruises. You never really had to hear or see physically the chaos caused, more than a good right hook.

As soon as you get into the car safely. He wipes his face and has as much blood as possible. Holding you into his side as you drove back home in a silence, that left the air warm.

Once home, Frances and Mary greet you at the door. The doctor is on the couch waiting for you to be checked out. He gives you a clean bill of health and tells you the baby is healthy, which makes you both breathe a sigh of relief. Tommy helps you up the stairs and gives you both a hot shower. He lotions your body and dresses you in the warmest pajamas you have. He asks Mary to bring you some soup and tea for dinner knowing you had to be hungry. You just sit in silence trying to soak your safety net back in.

Tommy just sits at the side of the bed in a chair, not sure what to say, having too much on his mind that the word vomit was ready to come out but he was holding it in. Waiting for you to make the move to release your emotions. It happens right after you finish your dinner, Frances comes saying he’s wanted on the phone. You can feel your heart drop, not wanting him to leave the room. To be out of your sight. You needed him, you needed his comfort.

“Please don’t get the phone. Stay.” You plead quietly, he tells her to take a message, rushing over to you as the dam breaks and you begin soaking his shoulder with warm tears. Tears of many emotions.

“Shh..Shh. I'm not going anywhere love. I’m going to stay right here. Talk to me.” He pleads fingers rubbing your back in comforting circles.

“I was so scared. I knew you would come rescue us, I told him you would. You did but I can’t stop wondering if you didn’t or if you got hurt saving us.” Your fingers clutch him tightly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“I was scared too, but I made you a promise on the day we started dating and when we wed, that i’ll always protect you. I’ll always save you from danger and rescue you. You’re my wife and I love you too much to think of what life would be like without you. We’re having a baby, and it’s my job to protect him. I’m sorry I got you both in that situation.” He wipes the remainder of your tears away with the pad of his thumbs, looking into your eyes with fondness.

“You’re forgiven. I love you so much Tommy.” You pull his face to meet your to kiss the man that had your heart forever.

“Please tell me you weren’t too hard on James. I didn’t want any bloodshed and I couldn't stop thinking about if that was our kid. I know they’re supposed to be dangerous, but I didn't want anyone to get hurt.” You speak after a few minutes of silence, the young lad making its way back to your thoughts. You knew he trusted your judgment and trusted you even in that situation.

You were one to hold your own and all his men respected you. When you meant business they followed your orders. With the young peaky men they respected you as much as they admired you. You got along with Finn, Michael, Isaiah, and James. They followed your orders but you would also spoil them sometimes with sweets or buying them lunch when at the office which would earn you a scolding from Tommy sometimes. That they’re meant to help and be tough, but you treated them like the growing men (boys) they were. They appreciated it secretly.

“He’s good love, at home resting so he can get back to the gang.” He squeezes your hand in his. It’s just quiet a moment, just you two admiring the other after being away from the other.

“Let’s get some rest, doll.” He pecks your lips, before tucking you in one your side of the bed as you turn to face his side. He slips in coming as close as possible with your bump between the two of you. You fall asleep with the comfort of your husband and quietness of your home.

It was the next morning when you awoke to aching back and cramps in your abdomen. The baby was moving around profusely in your stomach, as you decided to slip out of bed to pace around the room. Tom laid in bed with a peaceful expression on his face, snoring lightly as you stood watching the sun come up through the blinds. Having the window open just a small crack from fresh air to help alleviate the symptoms you were feeling. It’s only an hour later when you hear Tom stir, due to the creaking of the bed, the weight of his body shifting upward. His knuckles rub the sleep out of his eyes, before grabbing his glasses, off his nightstand, eyes finally coming in contact with yours.

“What are you doing out of bed love?” His voice rasps, as you make your way toward him.

“Couldn’t sleep, the little one in there might be ready to make his appearance.” You smile down at him, watching his expression match yours, as he entagles your fingers together.

“I’ll keep Pol on speed dial. For now, let’s have some breakfast, as we wait.” You nod, pulling him along downstairs to eat.

It was only after breakfast, did your water break when you were making your way to the living room.

Twelve hours later after a long time waiting, screaming, and then pushing all with Tommy and Polly by your side was your son, finally in your arms. He was no bigger than half a foot tall and looked adorable already even in his first minutes on the outside world. You were sitting up holding him in your arms admiring him with Tommy who was full of joy.

“I can’t believe we made this.” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Neither can I. He’s ours and I couldn't imagine doing life without you by our side.” You speak as the door creaks open, revealing the Shelby clan.

“Everyone meet Liam Michael Shelby.” Tommy says proudly holding his son in his arms as the family gathers around to take turns holding him. All congratulating you both and talking about how cute he was already.

Tommy knew in that moment how truly lucky he was to be experiencing this moment. Although fear still gripped his heart, he knew, he would forever protect you and his son, no matter the trouble that came along.

Taglist:

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peakyxtommy

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mistabullets · 4 years ago

Note

i also want alucard to rail me ! could i perhaps suggest,,, alucard with a chubby s/o,,, as wholesome or nasty as you desire

A Taste of You

Characters: Alucard | Adrian Tepes x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Alucard decides to show his love for you.

Content Warning: n/s/f/w, afab reader but neutral pronouns, chubby reader, virgin reader, reader is a witch, vaginal finger, slight blood drinking (he just accidentally nip your lips), slight virginity and corruption kink (???), and post season 3 but it’s quite fluffy so don’t worry

Note: There wasn’t any railing involved but you gave me a reason to write some indulgent smut with Alucard and for that, I appreciate you.

Not SFW under cut ;

You let out a quiet gasp when the dhampir’s careful lips meet the warm skin from the column of your neck, tensing slightly as it sends tingles down your spine. He laughs at your small reaction, finding it adorable; a lithe hand running down your side to ease the fluttering anxiety and reel you into his ghost kisses. “Relax, my dear… I just want to make you feel good.”

Considerate as always, you think, despite the growing erection brushing up against one of your thick thighs. He must feel uncomfortable to a degree since he is still in his trousers.

How odd it is, that fate led you to him.

You were a mere witch, hopping from town to town but never staying too long in fear that some close-minded individual would suspect your magical ability and report you to the church officials. However, the last particular town found out too soon of your sorcery. Before anyone could act and drag you to a stake to be tied up and burned, you packed your belongings and ran into the forests. You heard from the townsfolk how dangerous it was to roam those woods, especially at nighttime, that a particular vampire lived within the heart of it. However, you reasoned it must be some myth to scare the children or just something to make this dreadful town more interesting and have something to talk about.

Yet deeper into the greenwoods, the lingering smell of decaying death met your nostril. Again, you rationalized - this was the territory of wildlife. Perhaps it was a deer carcass nearby. Who knows? Now wasn’t the time to fret, as you heard voices bounce and echo from the trees, too far away but you could certainly pick up some words: witch, find, and a few curses. Without properly analyzing your surroundings, you picked up the pace, not considering directions and ignoring the fact the putrid scent grew stronger the further you went.

You were stopped in your tracks by a blur of red and a thunk to your head. Before the waves of unconsciousness dazed you, you caught a brief glimpse of golden locks and a pale figure. Perhaps the villagers had gotten you; perhaps this was your angel to guide you toward heaven. But can a witch such as yourself go to heaven, especially if you dabbled in the dark arts?

Well, considering where you are, beneath a beautiful man who carried a merciful soul that you did not deserve… this is the closest to any celestial afterlife you’ll ever be. It took months, perhaps even a year, to mend the wounds of his heart. You recall the first couple months here, living behind the closed doors of Castlevania. Alucard, who happened to be dhampir son of the late Dracula, wasn’t too enthusiastic about allowing another soul to inhabit, especially after being alone for nearly half a year. While you were polite to never ask questions, you eventually put two and two together upon catching a glimpse of the scar, from recent times, forever ingrained into his porcelain skin. No wonder he longed for some privacy. For they were a reminder of loss and betrayal, the day when he saw humanity’s corruption.

And while he’ll never fully forget the sin they committed, he came to realize his lapse of judgment. It stemmed from the unmerited tribulation - he was quick to close off his heart, not properly allowing himself grief, to process the trauma he’s been through.

But seeing how you still forgive the humans and long to aid them, despite them killing your coven, gradually made him realize how foolish he has been. He was reminded of his mother’s wisdom; how she was willing to be scrutinized by the church if it meant she could help others and spread her nurturing knowledge. You were willing to help those in need, despite the hardships humanity has gifted you. While it certainly took time, he was beginning to open his heart to you… and in return, you were showing him your vulnerability, culminating into this moment: you and Alucard, glowing under the moonlight, exploring each other’s bodies like new lands.

He kisses your plush lips again, mindful of his incisors. His hands find your plump breasts, giving them an experimental squeeze, relishing in the breathless gasp your voice elicits. Adrian withdraws himself from your mouth, savoring the taste of your lips; he wants to smother them, hear the symphony he can pull from you, but he wants to drink in your blushing form and the plush curves of your flesh against his muscled figure. The dhampir sees you as a goddess undeserving of him yet here you are, sprawled out and waiting for his next move. You find yourself more flustered than before, small and fragile beneath his resplendent eyes. His visage softens, noticing the doubt casting your lovely face. Adrian leans back down, resting his head against the middle of your breasts, the blood rushing through your veins sounding delicious. But oh, while your blood may be sweet, he wants to try the appetizers first.

“God, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he declares, lips peppering kisses on one of your breasts before finding a nipple to feast on. A shaky moan leaves your lips, your hands find themselves in his hair. Alucard makes sure to give each of your pert buds attention; suckling them in between his lips and gently pinching the sensitive skin with his lithe fingers. Your mind is swirling - how painful the virginal heat is between your legs, how merciful yet ruthless his touch is, how patient this angelic man is despite his own carnal desire, and how you love it and you love him. He allows your breasts to rest from the overstimulation; kisses explore your collarbone and neck while a curious hand searches for the heat radiating at the apex of your thighs. You whimper please at the feel of his hand against your now damp undergarment and your lover can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness. “Patience, my love.”

He rewards you a kiss, brushing strands of your hair away from your forehead. Your face is burning from how intently the dhampir observes each time your visage twists in newfound pleasure. A finger rubs up against your clothed slit, wishing to draw out more of your juices and lewd noises. “A-Adrian, please… t-touch me, please.”

“I am, my treasure,” he teases with amusement.

You whine, exasperated, and Alucard gives a playful grin. He understands what you mean but it’s fun to tease. Looking into your blown-out pupils, he asks for silent permission and you already know what he wants. You awkwardly lift up your hips so he can pull down your undergarments with ease. Once off, his fingers make contact with your naked mound, collecting the slick pooling from your heart and down your thighs. You’re eager to spread your legs further apart, allowing him access to more. He sighs, pride swelling how he is able to make you fall apart so quickly. After some painful slow strokes of your exposed slit, Alucard’s finger experimentally rubs your bundle of nerves, relishing in the moan of his name and how desperate yet demure it rings. Finding the entrance to your maidenhood with ease, he easily slips his index finger and god, that wail sounds ethereal. The dhampir sees how your entire form is quivering, from the tension and nerves, and he’s quick to litter your body with kisses and lovebites to distract your melting brain. You giggle a bit when a strand of his golden locks brushes against a ticklish spot and he’s glad to know you’re easing into his touch.

Adrian tentatively curls his finger in a come here motion - and after a few strokes, he finds that spot that makes your toes curl and makes you moan even louder. Your mind is foggy but you’re feeling confident, enjoying the way your lover is making you come undone - you plead for more. And so he adds another digit to your tight heat and repeats the same motion and experimenting more; scissoring your insides, burying his digits to the knuckle, and alternating these motions. You’re almost at the peak, he sees - with how your moans grow in volume, you’re bucking into his touch, and your e/c eyes swim in lust and adoration. His fingers pick up the pace, drinking in your divine image: soft and thick thighs spreading out more, lightning shape stretch marks adorning your cute belly and hips, and your chubby face contorting in the madness of pleasure as you imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you.

Wishing to relinquish you of this torture, he presses his thumb up against your clit and you’re seeing stars speckle your vision as strange pressure builds higher and higher to the cliff of your undoing. “A-Adrian, i-it’s too much! I-I’m going to, a-ahh--!”

Alucard rubs faster and harsher and thrust his fingers deeper - like he wants to feel every inch of the textured insides of your pussy. His forehead comes to rest on yours to admire your hungry eyes. Before you tumble from your peak, his lips crash against yours to consume the lovely noises, desperate and needy, and he accidentally bites your lips; but god, is your blood even sweeter in the glow of your climax. You didn’t even realize he’s grinding his groin against the mattress, too caught up the new sensation of Adrian’s fingers fucking your womanhood. If you could read minds, could you handle the extent of his ardor for you, a bashful witch? After seeing you wonderfully fall from your summit, Adrian truly believes he would die if he didn’t have more of you, if he couldn’t hear more of those needy keens, if he couldn’t pound you into oblivion, if he couldn’t--

His focus shifts from his lewd imagination to your glowing visage. From the dazed glisten of your eyes and the soft smile plastering your blood-smeared lips, Adrian could wait. Carefully, he pulls his fingers out of your sopping core, curiously bringing them up to his lips and lapping up the juices (much to your embarrassment), Alucard can’t help but laugh at your burning red face, planting his lips against yours and drinking up the remaining blood (the metallic taste of it combined with your juices made for a good combo).

“Do you need a break before we get to the main course, my beloved?”

He smiles at your cute face, steam particularly coming out of your ears.

But he smiles wider when you say no.

#my writing #scenario #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #alucard #castlevania anime #castlevania (netflix)#castlevania #castlevania x reader #not sfw #read content warnings #Anonymous

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joonie-beanie · 4 years ago

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Bean (MC) + sexual relationships with the Demon Brothers

This is an HC no one asked for, but here I am, being thirsty as hell for literally every brother, and funneling that thirst through Bean. Don’t judge me

(This time, in reverse order!...because I can! Also these are kind of messily written but I don’t know how to fix it at this point so forgive plz)

Belphegor:

General Vibe: Lowkey and Playful

Notable Kinks: Choking, edging, overstim, marking

Sex between Bean and Belphie is typically lowkey, and a little playful--depending on the mood.

They may be low-energy buddies, but they’re also both brats, which makes for a dangerous combination.

Most soft (aka lazy) sessions start one of two ways--with Belphie’s mouth on Bean’s neck, or Bean’s hand down Belphie’s pants.

Belphie is the first of the brothers to discover how sensitive Bean’s neck is. It happens when they’re cuddling, one day, and he leans in to press a kiss to her shoulder. When she shivers, immediately jerking away from the feeling with a high-pitched gasp? Oh, Belphie is relentless.

He holds her against him sternly, not letting her run away, as he assaults her neck and shoulders with his lips, tongue and teeth. (Over time, he absolutely develops a kink for seeing her covered hickies he has given her, and always wears such a little, shit-eating grin if she appears in a hoodie, or anything else that will hide away her upper torso from prying eyes).

He manages to get hard just from hearing her embarrassing sounds (which she is so desperately trying to stifle), and also the fact that every time she wriggles in his arms, her ass grinds against his cock.

When he’s finally too hard for comfort, he’ll likely take her in either of his two favorite positions. One, with her on her back, and his hand around her throat (she likes being choked, and he likes seeing her lose herself from the lack of blood flow), or two, on her knees, with her chest pressed against the sheets.

Usually, if he’s already pent up, he doesn’t bother edging, or overstimulating her. He’ll just fill Bean with his seed, and flop down onto the sheets, and go back to cuddling her--all blissed out, and tired from the orgasm.

If he feels he can last a while, he’ll likely edge her a few times, just to make her whine, and see if she’ll beg. OR, he’ll make her cum, and then keep going despite how her body is shaking from overstim.

If Bean is the one feeling a little bratty, then she’ll slip her hands beneath the waistband of his pants, and tease him with her fingers. (They both share the role of big spoon, so it’s not strange for her to be able to reach around him, and toy with him like he does her).

Since he never lets her leave without some array of marks littering her neck and shoulders, she makes sure to pay him back--kissing and nipping at his skin until he’s got a few love bites to remember her by.

Bean getting Belphie off with her hand is not very rare. If she’s spooning him, and he’s tired, he has no issue letting her jack him off. However, if he’s not groggy from sleep, he’ll likely turn the tables on her--taking her how he wants, or grabbing her hair and coaxing her head into his lap.

Beel:

General Vibe: Very sweet, or entirely overwhelming (in a good way).

Notable Kinks: Oral, marking, breeding

Bean is honestly a little freaked out by the idea of receiving oral before she meets Beel. She’s embarrassed by the idea of someone camping out between her legs, and it takes a little bit of convincing on Beel’s part before she finally allows him to taste her.

Once he does, he can’t stop, and Bean learns just how pleasurable (and damning) oral sex can be. Because with Beel, once is never good enough. The first time he goes down on her, she has to beg him to stop--her body shaking from overstim, and covered in sweat. She has no idea how long he’s spent with his mouth on her pussy, but it’s at least been an hour, and he still looks so hungry.

Beel is someone very close to her heart, and has helped her learn to love many of her insecurities, so he loves to have soft, caring sex with her. Sex where Bean whispers praises into his skin, and he mirrors her sentiments via soft touches with his hands, and mouth.

He takes her in a position where he’s guaranteed to face her--where she can cradle his face, and kiss him over and over again as they both fall apart. When she finally cums, she does so while gasping his name, with her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. And when Beel cums, he buries his face in the crook of her neck and bites down on her skin--hard enough to leave marks, but not draw blood.

She spends her post orgasm bliss tucked into his arms, with her back against his chest, and his lips pressed into her hair. He likes to stay inside of her as long as possible--until he eventually goes soft, and his cum starts leaking out of her.

Of course...sometimes Beel can’t help but be a bit rougher--to crave a little more. He is a demon, after all.

So, when Beel isn’t feeling so soft, he tends to manhandle her. His strength is already known by her--after all, he can carry her with little effort, whereas most humans would struggle to even lift her into a hug--but it never fails to surprise her when he throws her onto the bed, or hikes her up against the wall without batting an eye. (It’s such a turn on).

When Beel’s in a more carnal mood, Bean resigns herself to just being along for the ride. She lets him take her however he wants, as long as he wants. While he has never admitted it, she’s positive he has a bit of a breeding kink, because he loves to go multiple rounds, and makes sure she’s taking as much of his seed as she can.

When he’s in this state, he tends to leave more marks, as well. Most notably on her thighs, tummy, and chest.

Once things finally calm down, he’ll make sure she’s alright, and clean her up before holding her for as long as he can.

Oh, also, Bean does reciprocate oral for him. However, Beel is big and her jaw hurts if it’s open too wide, so if she ever starts to ache, Beel is more than happy to use her in other ways instead (Bean honestly feels so lucky that he’s so understanding).

Asmo:

General Vibe: Fun, and uplifting.

Notable Kinks: Edging, overstim, toys, praise kink

Bean is actually more comfortable being dominant with Asmo, than she is subbing.

Asmodeus has a huge praise kink--both giving and receiving, and Bean is more than happy to feed into that--telling him about all his good points while she jacks/sucks him off, or even pegs him.

And, of course, Asmo is more than happy to be submissive to her. She’s not a hard dom by any means, but she can be a bit sadistic (he honestly thinks it stems from her bratty submissive side), and does enjoy edging him, and watching him beg.

It’s actually exciting to Bean to be able to dominate someone and not feel completely self conscious about it. Asmo is really great at reassuring her-- since he’s not afraid to be vocal, or ask for more. It lets Bean know he’s enjoying himself, and helps build her confidence.

Once Asmo finally gets off, he refuses to let Bean leave without having her own orgasm (even if she assures him she’s okay. He’s the Avatar of Lust--there’s no way in hell he’s not going to return the pleasure she has just given him).

So, when Asmo is trying to repay her actions, he tends to get her off with a vibrating wand (the two absolutely include toys in their play regularly), or with his mouth. Bean gets turned on from fucking him, so she gets off fairly quickly once its her turn.

However, just because Bean dom’s Asmo, doesn’t mean he’s always submissive. Oh no, sometimes, he loves flustering her and taking the reins. (And it really does fluster her. Too much).

While Asmo has a huge praise kink, and soaks up all of her kind words, Bean has no idea how to handle his praise towards her, and usually just turns into a whining mess, begging him to shut up. (Of course, Asmo is pretty relentless, and doesn’t stop until she’s a complete mess from his words).

Sessions with Asmo are usually a fair amount of time, since he really likes to indulge himself in the act, but they don’t unnecessarily drag on. He knows that he and Bean both have other things to get to, and doesn’t feel the need to keep her around him after their love making. No, he makes sure she’s okay, gives her whatever amount of aftercare she needs, and then the two go on their merry way.

Although…there are the rare times where Asmo keeps her there the entire day. While his powers don’t work on her, that doesn’t mean he can’t find a good substitute (aka sometimes, with her consent, they’ll mess around with giving her an aphrodisiac). Whenever Bean takes the aphrodisiac, it’s typically a very intense experience, so they don’t do it often. But when they do? Oh man, Asmo is in love.

Satan:

General Vibe: Unhurried, light-hearted (and sometimes ruining)

Notable Kinks: Pet play, Training

Because Satan is aware of Bean’s writing habits, and has taken to proofing her work for her, the two of them casually speak of sex often, which turns into...well, actual sex between them.

Satan finds it quite cute that despite the smut she writes, Bean doesn’t have a ton of experience to back it up. So, he devotes himself to kindly helping her gain some experience (at least at first).

It starts with oral training--Satan giving Bean pointers on giving head (ya know...so she can write it with a clearer picture/experience in mind). Bean...doesn’t have the best gag reflex, hence the “training”. Satan pretty much takes it upon himself to help her tame her reflex (for the most part--after all, making her gag sometimes is still fun).

Of course...he enjoys this arrangement more than he cares to admit, and he soon breaks down, wanting more. The first time he throws Bean onto his bed and cages her down, all red in the face as he asks if he can have her--oof. She’ll never forget it. And, well, Bean has been a little...pent up, even if she won’t admit it (since blowing Satan actually turns her on a lot), so she’s more than happy to let things progress farther.

Following the broadening of their sexual relationship, Satan takes to, well, training her in other ways. Particularly...through light forms of pet play. So maybe he has a collar and leash, and a cat tailed butt plug. And maybe every time he puts them on/in Bean, it makes her blush so red, and in turn makes him grin so proudly. (He is, after all, the Avatar of Wrath. It’s in his nature to be a little mean).

Their overall play doesn’t get extremely rough. Most of the time, it’s middle ground--rough enough to satisfy them both, without being too intense.

However, sometimes Satan does get a little...feral for lack of a better term. Especially if she’s being a little too bratty, and he’s not in the mood for it. When that happens, Satan gets rough--taking 100% control of the situation. He’ll tease her about how her bratty remarks are nowhere to be found, now that he’s absolutely ruining her.

Once Satan has finally had his fill, though, he’ll be sure to clean her up, and check on her--asking if she’s alright, and bringing her water, and whatever else she may need.

Overall, though, usually sex between the two is very casual, and unhurried. Bean feels comfortable with Satan, especially because they can still talk/banter like normal, even if her mouth is on him, or if he’s inside of her.

Also, Satan won’t admit it, but he’s pretty invested in seeing how else he can train her. His next goal is getting her to cum on command.

Levi:

General Vibe: needy, intense, competitive

Notable Kinks: DP, oral, thigh fucking

The first time the two have sex, it’s because Levi get’s frustrated over the fact that she’s kicking his ass at Mario Kart. He goes demon form, and Bean attempts to calm him down by pressing her hands to his chest, and kissing him.

It actually makes his brain blue screen for a few seconds, before he’s dragging her over to his tub. He’s hesitant, at first, but with Bean’s reassurance that she’s fine, and that she wants him, he eventually gives into his desires and stops worrying so much.

And the minute Levi subconsciously begins using his tail to hold her down, or aid in the sex, and realizes that she loves it. Damn. 90% of the time he’s in his demon form when they have sex, because his tail is sensitive and he absolutely will use it on her so long as she permits it.

Sometimes, he only uses it to hold her wrists, or spread her legs, but other times he basically uses it as a second dick and wow, he’s super weak watching Bean fall apart as he fucks two of her holes open.

And Bean, despite her embarrassment, allows herself to be a little vocal for Levi, because it gives him the reassurance that he so desperately needs, and she loves seeing him confident, and using her to seek what he wants.

Levi tends to lose himself, when he’s really having fun. At first, he may be cautious about what he’s doing, but once he really starts feeling good, and realizes that he’s making Bean feel good, he lets his worries go.

And when that happens, he can go for a while. Like, Bean about to pass out but he’s still hard despite having cum in her twice while. However, Levi doesn’t get like that too often. Usually he’s happy with one, good, satisfying round of sex (and so is Bean). But...they both definitely enjoy it when things do get a little more intense.

Also, Bean blowing/jacking off Levi while he’s playing video games is 100% a thing. Most of the time he manages to keep playing, but eventually ends up pausing the game when he’s close to cumming and can’t focus anymore.

In turn, if the two are playing a game together, and Bean is winning...maybe Levi lets his demon form come forth, and lets his tail wind up her leg. And when the appendage starts groping her, it’s very hard to stay focused.

ALSO, Bean is not big into cosplay, or roleplay, but...she’ll wear a mini skirt and thigh highs for Levi. Asmo buys Bean a maid costume from Akuzon and when Levi sees her in it...and the SQUISHY ANIME GIRL THIGH LINE HE SO DEARLY LOVES...he awakens something within himself.

So yes, upon occasion, when Levi can’t stop staring at her thighs, or if she’s wearing something that draws attention to them, he’ll absolutely just thigh fuck her. It makes him weak.

Mammon:

General Vibe: Teasing, bratty

Notable Kinks: Oral, Anal, Edging

Mammon is a tsundere but Bean is a brat...and sometimes they don’t mix well.

But, Mammon is the avatar of Greed, and he’s greedy with Bean, and wants the same thing she’s willing to offer his brothers (with her consent, obviously, he’s not an asshole). Luckily, despite their inherent natures, it still works.

And by work, 90% of the time that means “Mammon whines about wanting intimacy, and Bean gives him exactly what he wants, only for him to get flustered by it”. But...she kind of likes seeing him all blushy, and honestly, as long as Mammon is getting his rocks off in the end, he can get over being embarrassed.

Typically, their sessions start one of two ways. 1. Mammon is just craving her affection, and at some point shared hugs and kisses progress into hands under clothes, and breathy moans. Or 2. Mammon sees traces of his brothers “love” on her, and he sits in the corner and pouts about it until a. Bean goes over and coaxes him out of his mood, or b. Mammon takes things into his own hands.

If Mammon is just craving affection, then he’ll likely saddle up next to her, and grumble while wrapping his arms around her. But...his hugs will turn into groping, and his lips will find hers, or sensitive areas of skin to tease. And then he’s grumbling about how she’s his, as their bodies press together--making Bean aware of the fact that he’s definitely hard.

And once he’s hard, and Bean is making little sounds that has him knowing she’s feeling good too, well...Mammon grins and gets to it.

He prefers to take her from behind, because that way he can grab her ass ( and he loves her ass. Like...he’s weak for anal with her. They don’t have it all the time, but sometimes. As a special treat).

The first few times they fuck, Mammon cums before her, and while she reassures him that she’s fine not cumming, Mammon doesn’t want to be one of, if not the only, brother who hasn’t made her cum, so. He steps up his game. Now, he always has them cum together, if not her first.

At least...that’s how it goes when he’s the one being more dominant. Because Bean loves to tease him, especially when he’s already blushy, and flustered.

During the times where she takes charge, she’ll slip into her bratty nature as she teases him with dirty remarks while taking his cock into her hand, or mouth. And Mammon does his best not to fall apart as she brings him to the edge one, twice, and again, until he’s cursing and begging for her to let him cum already. And she always does--but hey, a girl has to have her fun first right?

Lucifer:

Overall Vibe: Intimate, Sadistic (surprise surprise)

Notable Kinks: Bondage, Spanking, Denial

Once Bean finally gets over emotional constipation, and the two realize they do, indeed, reciprocate each other's feelings, well...sex is kind of enivitable (not that either of them mind).

At first, their sex is very intimate, and needy. Bean is a mixture of embarrassed and excited, whereas Lucifer feels he needs to catch up for lost time--to stake his equal claim to her as his brothers have. He works quickly while reassuring her of his feelings--drowns them both in their pleasure until the cravings they’ve held onto for so long are thoroughly spent.

Then...once things have calmed down, things get a little more...spicy.

Whereas before, Lucifer may have just scolded Bean for making a bratty comment. Well...now he can reprimand her in other ways.

While Lucifer isn’t big on leaving hickies, or bite marks like some of his brothers, he has no issue bending her over the desk in his study, and reddening her ass and thighs (he prefers to use his hand, but if he’s feeling particularly mean, he may pull out the whip he so dearly loves). And for what it’s worth, Bean enjoys it--she wouldn’t be bratty to him otherwise (and, of course, Lucifer wouldn’t spank her to begin with if she wasn’t getting something out of it as well).

Aside from this, Lucifer has taken to using his rope skills on her--but in ways far more enjoyable than he uses on Mammon. Likeeeee...tying her hands behind her back and having her service him while he works. Orrrrr...putting her in a pretty body harness, because he enjoys seeing the way it accentuates her (and he likes seeing rope marks as well). Oh, and you can’t forget tying her down on his bed so he’s truly in 100% control.

One of Lucifer’s favorite things to do is tie her up, and then deny her. Time and time again, until she’s quite literally begging--letting go of her mental restraints in order to plead for her orgasm. Watching her fall apart for him is his delight, and only once he’s satisfied with how helpless she has become, does he allow her to cum.

Of course, sex with Lucifer isn’t always so intense, or sadistic. No, the man is busy, and sometimes Bean just wants to help him unwind. So, she’ll take it upon herself to settle between his legs and get him off with her mouth and hands. Or, she’ll snuggle up to him in bed, and if she feels him getting hard, she’ll just kiss him and ask if he wants her to take the reins for the night (which usually means riding him, while he holds her hips--only helping her out when she gets close and can barely move anymore).

And they both love the soft, intimate sessions as much as they do the ones where Lucifer gets Bean so desperate that tears prick her eyes.

Lucifer is very good about aftercare, though, especially when he’s been quite mean. He’ll clean her up and kiss her hair and bring her water. Oh, and of course she’ll be staying with him for the night--with his arm draped over her waist, or his wings curled around her. (Like she’d even try to leave…)

#Bean #aksjdhsjakld I tried to just go over some main points and didn't want to make them terribly long but #*touchy fingers* if anyone has questions about certain dynamics plz feel free to ask!!#obey me mc #om!#obey me

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nestable · 4 years ago

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BRING IT ON HOME NESSIAN ONESHOT

Bring it on Home to me by Sam Cooke is on of my favorite songs in the word and I highly recommend you go have a listen if you havent heard it, I promise you wont regret it. I was listening to it the other day and instantly thought of how these lyrics resonated with nessian, cassian more especially and couldn't resist writing this fic. Just a little soft, SFW, domestic Nessian. 🥺😭

"Nes." Cassian groaned as he rolled closer to her side of the bed. "Nesta?"

After being met with stark silence, Cassian outstretched his hand only for it to collapse onto cold sheets.

No Nesta, he realized with a start.

Though he and his Nesta have been mated for some months now, all of which have been without an incident, he can't help but worry.

Each night he reassures himself with the knowledge of their bond, the heat of her body pressed against his own, the words of love and loyalty she ensures he hears everyday, that she is safe and finally happy.

Not miserable and balancing on the cusp of oblivion where he found her last year. Juggling between drowning her sorrows and indulging in sub-par sex just to feel something, just to deny the connection they share because she felt that she wasnt worthy of him. No, that was all over now, but he can't help when the memories resurface.

The memory of Nesta writhing and arched in her bed as silver flames wreathed her body like a shroud. The screams of pain and anguish that left her lips only to be swallowed by starless night and Deaths flames. How the very mountain trembled beneath their feet, bracing itself for the potential explotion that Cassian could sense building up. Somehow he knew that Velaris would've been crumpled to dust that night and become a fond memory. He felt it in his gut. Just the same way he felt her night terrors take hold of her for her powers to bask in centre stage. And in the same breath, he also felt that he could stop it. Whether that was pure male arrogance or the suspicion of the bond that lay between them, that was yet to be found. And it was...the moment her powers seized in intensity when he said her name. Once, twice, just enough for Rhys to gain control and save them all.

No, he would never forget that and he'd be damned if it were to happen again and catch him in a helpless position as the first time he witnessed the extent of her power. A power that mostly returned back to the Cauldron, only to be replaced by 3 Dread troves and the Mothers favour. A different sort of threat perhaps. One sweeter, kinder, even benign from what he's witnessed.

Nesta barely speaks about the power the same way she did with her Cauldron gifts. She reassures him that these were different, these she understands and smiled every time he enquired about her connection with the Mother. He wishes to know more, his body yearns for it, but his mate has always loved surprises.

Cassian threw on a pair of his undershorts before leaving his and Nestas new room. Though the House of Wind has become their shared abode, its ill advised to walk around naked with the possibility of Azriel becoming an unwilling spectator with his prowling around the halls in the dead of night like he's been doing for the past year.

Cassian loves his brother, sometimes more than kin normally do, he believes sometimes, but he'll never forgive him for that night he ruined his birthday night when he walked in on Nesta modelling her new negligee in the library. He's never jumped from one intense emotion to another so quickly. Blinded by the red lace of her silk garments only to see red of a different kind when the blue of Azriels siphon opened the door.

The territorial male part of him nearly took over that night and he was inclined to let it ride him had Nesta not winnowed them to their room and pushed him onto the bed. The anger, the curiosity he had as to how Nesta was able to winnow around the House when no one else could were obscured then turned insignificant by the view of Nesta sitting astride on his thighs.

Cassian followed the music swimming through the hall which brought him to a new lounge area that didn't present itself in the centuries that he's been living here until Nesta inherited the place.

Many new things have made their presence known and sprung to life since Nestas made the House her home. Hidden rooms have materialized, troves have opened and a gorgeous garden has flourished on the top of the mountain. As if in preparation of someone, or little someone's who might need it.

Cassian isn't blind to the fact that the House makes things available according to Nestas hopes, dreams and wishes. All of which make Cassian excited for the future and a forever with his mate even more.

Nesta was leaning against the cream white wall that she and Cassian painted just last night, holding an A2 canvas painting in both hands. He couldn't decipher her facial expression or read some of the wild thoughts that were evidently bouncing around her head as Nesta was inclined to raising her mental walls to him when she was stressed. He'd once asked why and she told him that she didnt want to plague him with her problems. Didnt want to bother him. Little did she know that Cassian was built for her, problems and all. Nothing about Nesta could bother him. Not even the parts that bothered her.

"Hi." He whispered which startled Nesta before she composed herself. For her to be so drawn into her thoughts that she didnt notice him approaching, instantly put him on edge him.

"Hi." She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her face.

Cassian took that as an invitation to enter. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the organized clutter. From the closed boxes filling the lounge, the half hung snow white gossamer curtains blowing in from the open balcony, to the slightly dusty white marble tiles that were installed just last week.

Cassian was a bit skeptical when Nesta told him of her plans to decorate this room in all white. White cushions, white couches, white walls, white flower arrangements, white chandeliers and white fur carpets felt like a fever dream to Cassian, but now that it's all coming to life, he can see the vision of beauty that Nesta had in mind. A vision not only limited to this lounge but the entire House of Wind that Nesta will decorate herself with the input of the House itself to revitalize the place. All of which will be paid for by Rhys.

How the Cauldron matched him to such a female, not mere female but god, he'll never know. All he can do is be grateful and work to be worthy and deserve the gift to draw breath in her presence.

Now that Nestas accepted her Human emissary role and is the courts newly appointed courtier, she's recieving the same fat salary like the rest of the IC, but Cassian doubts that Rhysand will ever let Nesta access her funds because he insists on paying for everything for her. Which goes to show that Rhys' gratitude for Nesta runs very far. Or guilt, or both.

What Nesta did for Feyre, Nyx and Rhys was something that couldnt be described with words. She saved their lives and in doing so the entire court. Rhys failed to tell his family about him and Feyres decision and never left a plan of action to follow after his death. Had he died, the role of High Lord could've fallen to anyone. Probably Keir or one of Mors detestable brothers because they are Rhys closest male blood relatives. What they would've done to Velaris, done to the entire court....Cassian seldom contemplates that. Nestas sacrifice and mercy saved them all and in doing so, opened herself to a higher form of being that is yet to be seen.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I had a lot on my mind. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come and get this room in order." She explained, flipping her golden brown hair over her shoulder.

"What's been on your mind?" Cassian asked casually, taking a step closer.

He'd have embraced her and held her against his chest if it weren't for the massive painting in her hands. A painting that he can feel is the source of all her trepidation.

Nesta bit her lip before turning the canvas toward him and placing it in his hands. "Feyre finally finished that and it was delivered yesterday afternoon. I was too afraid to open it then- but I figured that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I saw it."

At first glance, anyone would assume that the muse was Nesta. From the steel eyes to the clear skin and poise in the pose. But upon further inspection, the age of the woman, the beauty spot beneath her right eye and slight darker tresses reveals the truth.

"This is your mother..." Cassian said lowly. The weight of the image, not the canvas itself but the obvious memories, pain and loss the painting held settled on him.

"Was." She uttered a bit sharply. Her throat bobbing up and down.

Cassians eyes darted between Nesta and the painting. Surprise and admiration pouring into him in droves. Her sisters did mention more than once that Nesta is their mothers spitting image, but this...it was as though the same person had been born twice.

"You stole her whole face." He chuckled, bringing a sweet curve to Nestas lip.

"I know...I know." She shrugged.

Cassian lay the painting carefully against the wall then wrapped his arms around his mates shoulders. Her own found their home around his waist as she rested her chin atop his chest so that their eyes could meet.

If it were a few months ago, a year, she would've furiously blinked away the tears that have settled in her eyes, or rejected their proximity entirely. Only to retain a semblance of control that shes strived so hard to maintain. But now shes opened herself to him entirely. Made him a part of both her happiness and pain, loss and gain, victories and failure. Just as their mating vows ordered.

"Talk to me." He whispered, dragging his fingers through her hair.

"I- I just...I know that my mother was not the best of mothers, nor did she love us in the ways that a mother should but....but that doesn't make me love her any less. She might've trained me instead of raised me, saw me as a ticket to wealth and leisure or lived vicariously through me but she was still my mother." Her tears fell down her cheeks as if a damn had been broken. "There were good moments as well as bad and I'm not going to pretend that she was never loving or good to me. Elain and Feyre might've forgotten her, but I can't... I wont."

Cassian lowered his head to press soft kisses to her cheeks where her tears left stains. "I know." He murmured. "You dont share the same memories as Elain and Feyre, it's only natural that you saw her much differently and remember her in a better light than they do." He rubbed feather light circles on the back of her neck in an attempt to assuage her from her pain.

"It broke my heart when I walked through Feyres house that day and didn't see a piece of myself or her. It felt like I was being erased, forgotten. Now I've found my place in that hall but she hasn't. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't let her be erased just like that."

"And she wont be, not if you will it. I'll remember her with you." Cassians lips found Nestas and before they knew it, the couple found themselves descending into a deep kiss that only a mating bond could conjure.

"You know that's one of the reasons I love you?" He stated, to which Nesta replied with a raised brow. "Your compassion, your massive heart, your loyalty... these are all qualities that you motivate me to pursue everyday. You've kept your soft side hidden for a long time and now we're starting to see it." She smiled. By far the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "That sweet love. Just bring it on home to me."

A giggle was shared between them as soon as the words left his mouth. The lyrics of a song, their song, that came on the day of their mating ceremony that they had on repeat for 2 hours straight. Cassian had never heard a song that spoke to him and his experience with love the way that one did. One that Nesta knew would speak to his very marrow and chose not to warn him in advance, only to see his reaction.

"You're insufferable." She said, only to hug him tighter and lay her head on his chest.

"Well then you're going to have to get used to it, Nes. We only have forever left together."

Just when Cassian expected Nesta to respond, the soft melody of a piano begun in the corner of the room from Nesta symphoniam, followed by the ever true lyrics that might've been written for them, that might as well have been their wedding and mating vows.

If you ever change your mind

About leaving, leaving me behind

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Nesta begun the dance. Cassian followed with no hesitation. Though it was a far cry from the pulsating waltz they'd done in Hewn city or other court events thereafter. It was far more intimate, passionate. Just a sway of the hips and foot movements that reforged and strengthened the golden bond that surged through them on Winter Solstice and polished it to a shimmer. Their bond was not a mere tether, not a chain. It was a rainbow. Shimmering through storms and sunny days. It didnt only make its presence known or surge when they were in the throes of passion, it became more sentient when they were upset with each other. It was the musical and colourful road that led mate back to mate. Self back to self.

I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

His heart cracked at the words and the truth they carry. The memories when they were so at odds with each other that they could barely be in the same room longer than necessary. The nights when he thought the immense sadness and grief at the prospect of losing her entirely would drown him and suffocate him. When he wished that he could rip his heart out of his chest only to get a reprieve from his anguish. Anguish he attempted to expunge with throwing himself into work and training only to realize that the further they moved from one another, the further they moved from themselves.

As if Nesta could hear and feel those memories, she held onto him tighter. This female, his tether to reality, his anchor, the tree that was able to weather a thunderstorm that left the land decimated only to come back and continue to grow with fruits and flowers on display for all to see.

I'll give you jewellery and money, too

That ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you

Oh, if you bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian knew that from the moment he met Nesta, there was nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for her. Nothing too out of reach that if she should request, he would give. He was already hers in mind, body and soul. Their bond might've snapped into being after she emerged from the cauldeon, but the draw he felt toward her was infinite. Like their souls were made from the same essence but placed on earth in different time periods so that they know life without the other, to appreciate being together more.

You know I'll always be your slave

'Til I'm buried, buried in my grave

Oh honey, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian held up Nestas hand so that he may look upon the wedding and mating band. She requested that she have both and went to the best jeweler in Velaris to fuse both choices so that they sit as one on her finger. Both were made of rose gold, the slimmer wedding ring was imbued with three tanzanite diamonds and the larger mating band sports just one giant diamond that would need it's own security team. Cassian knew his mate loved nice things and made him pay a pretty penny to get it. He'd do again if only to see the stars that twinkled in her eyes when they chose the bands at the jeweler.

He looked at his own jeweled finger. A simple silver band that stood out more than he expected it to. He wanted to get black carbon fiber but Nesta threatened not to speak to him again if he had. Now he can't stop looking at it. He loves how it makes an appearance even though he's bedecked in full illyrian armour. He'll never forget the swell of pride he felt when his soldiers eyes zoned in on the piece of metal that could've easily been obscured by the red siphon that rests atop his hand, but chose to stand out and make its presence known. A symbol of his immature bachelorhood dead and gone, giving life to a new stage in his life. A stage he's waited for longer than he cares to admit.

He remembers using the word 'shackled' when describing his mating bond with Nesta when he was upset with her, but now that word seems appropriate. If the pieces of metal sitting on their matching fingers are the shackles of which he spoke, then he'd wear his shackles with pride.

One more thing

I tried to treat you right

But you stayed out, stayed out at night

But I forgive you, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian rarely thinks about the time they spent apart. When resentment, self punishment and grief pulled them apart only because those memories are nothing in comparison to the centuries he spent without her.

Living life believing the words of the ignorant and seeing oneself as a inferior and undeserving of the love that he relishes in now. The love that has somehow wiped away centuries of self hate and lack of self awareness. He figures that the reason why he used to be the first to throw himself into deadly missions were all desperate plea to prove himself, to put it into stone that he isn't a mere worthless bastard but is someone worthy of respect. But now his outlook has completely shifted. He is no longer living only for himself, but for another. He remembers the blind terror he felt when he thought that Nesta was swallowed by the black water in the Bog, or how she screamed when she thought that she lost him on Mount Ramiel.

He doesnt want either of them to go through that again. To be without the other. To feel that their very heart was ripped out of their chest, when both had taken permanent residence in the other.

He saw how Feyre reacted when Rhys died, and heard when Rhys screamed when Feyre was on deaths doorstop. The mere thought of Nesta experiencing that pain or him has softened his daring heart.

He will live, he will love and he will do it with Nesta in his arms.

As the song drew to a close, Nesta shifted from her position on his chest, too look upon him again. She brought her slim fingers to his cheeks and smiled. "Forever."

He could offer nothing but the same. A truth that had been both a promise and a prayer from the moment they met, "Forever."

Tag: @bakingandbooks3 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @arinbelle @silvernesta @darklobe @haepaw @carlieg20 @illyrianshadowhunter

#acsf spoiler #nessian oneshot #nessian #bring it on home to me

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astarryon · 4 years ago

Text

Tame Your Demons

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood mention, implied assault, language, general criminal minds things

Summary: The deal you have with Spencer is simple. You call him to take care of the men looking to take advantage of innocents on the street, and he comes to ensure you don’t kill them before he gets the chance. Unfortunately for the both of you, though, things don’t always go according to plan.

A/N: This is my latest love letter to Spencer Reid and Criminal Minds! Part Two will be posted a little later this week, and will be for a slightly more mature audience, if y’all catch my drift. A big thank you to @reids-trauma for letting me run this fic by her, she’s literally half the reason it even saw the light of day. Enjoy!

Masterlist

––

You see him before he sees you.

It doesn’t hurt your feelings— it’s the norm, in any case, and it’s what typically happens each time you reach out to plan a rendezvous. Part of the agreement is that you get to set the location, and you’re always careful to pick places you’re comfortable enough to slip your way out of unnoticed in case he ever morals up and brings his team to corner you. To his credit, that hasn’t happened yet — though you’re not naive enough to give up on the idea that it ever will just yet — but never subscribing to uncertain chances was a lesson you’d learned a long time ago.

But you know you’re safe for tonight, at least. He wouldn’t be meandering around the bar for such a prolonged amount of time searching for you if there were rows of feds waiting to take you into custody as soon as you stepped foot out the door. It takes a full fifteen seconds before his wandering gaze finally touches on you, another three before the glint of recognition appears in his eyes, and by the time he’s straightening his spine and striding purposefully toward you, it’s been an entire minute. Damn. Someone was really starting to lose their touch.

“You’re late, Doc,” you simper, arching a brow as you knock back a hearty sip from your glass. “Didn’t your mommy ever tell you it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Reid huffs, crossing his arms over one another as he tries — and fails — to sidle up to you in a casual manner. You note the way he avoids touching the bar at all costs, how he folds in on himself like an exceptionally uncomfortable piece of origami. And then, of course, there’s the suit, far too dressy for a place so casual as the lively little bar nestled in the far side of downtown Georgetown. Jesus, the only way he would look like even more of an off the clock fed would be if his badge were superglued to his palm. “Getting away from the others without raising suspicion on such short notice isn’t exactly the easiest thing to pull off.”

“Yeah, well,” you chuckle, taking another sip from your glass. You make eyes at him, pointedly and conspicuously allowing your gaze to rake his lanky, suit clad frame head to toe. He looks good in the outfit he’s picked, the dark black of his jacket drawing the eye to the maroon button down he wore beneath it, and you marvel at the way his chosen color palette sets off his skin in the dim light. If Reid notices your staring or cares, he makes no show of it. Your ogling doesn’t bother him, not like it used to — doesn’t even make him blush, to your admitted dismay, though you suppose that makes sense. Spencer Reid is nothing like the sweet, shy boy he used to be. He’s not so wide eyed and naive anymore, though you’d never expected that to last very long in the first place. Still — getting a rise out of him had always been your favorite part of your arrangement. If you don’t get to keep that going, these meetings are about to become significantly less fun. “That’s the deal, isn’t it? When I call, you come running.”

“That’s the deal,” he mutters, nonchalantly waving off the approaching bartender. “And I came running. So who is it?”

You jut your lip out into a pout, resting your elbows atop the bar before settling your chin against your palms, sparing only a moment’s thought for how low the neckline of your dress must be dipping with the switch in position before casting the worry out of your mind. Were any other man your company tonight, you might have felt more concern for your modesty, but Spencer Reid was far from being anything like most men, and, honestly, the day you caught him checking you out was the day you mentally marked another tally on your side of the metaphorical score board. “Why’s it always straight to business with you?”

“Because—“

“No ‘hello’,” you go on, skirt riding further up your thigh as you cross your legs over each other. Not even a spare glance. Damn. “No ‘how are you,’ no admission of your undying love for me. If you’re not careful, Spencer, you’re going to start hurting my feelings.”

“No offense,” Spencer retorts, sounding particularly unconcerned with whether his words actually offend you or not, “but your feelings aren’t exactly my top priority right now. Arresting whoever this man is before you take it upon yourself to brutalize him is.”

“Well he’d deserve it, if I did,” you tell him matter of factly, swirling the contents of your glass as you pretend to be more interested in that than the eye-catching man just beside you. “This one likes to take advantage of young girls in clubs who accept drinks from strangers because they don’t know any better and still think there are nice people left in the world. Sometimes he keeps track, like it’s a game, and tries to see how many he can assault in a night, and this most recent time three of them made it home all right, but the fourth one turned up in a dumpster. So, yeah, Spencer, you’ll have to forgive me for figuring that if he ends up in a back alley with a couple of bruises and a broken leg he probably got what was coming to him, but don’t insult me by implying that I don’t know how to keep a promise.”

“If broken legs and bruises were all you left men with it wouldn’t be such a problem,” comes Spencer’s dry remark. “Unfortunately for the both of us, you seem to have a particular affinity for leaving men in comas.”

An affinity with which Spencer was all too familiar, you knew — not because he’d fallen victim to your habit of enacting revenge for all those poor defenseless victims, but because he’d caught you in the act with someone else. Two years later and you still weren’t positive how he’d managed to track you down. Spencer had told you minimal things — that an acquaintance on the city’s police force had reached out for his advice on a mysterious case of incapacitated men turning up in dark alleys, rarely little more than a few minutes away from going brain dead. That he’d been surprised to realize you profiled as female, considering the amount of unadulterated rage your behavior presented. That he’d made the decision to do what he could to keep from turning you in provided you help him be able to do so with a clean conscience before he’d even found you standing over some man with a white-knuckled grip on a tire iron.

“Give me your word that you’ll contact me first,” he’d instructed, a shockingly small amount of hesitancy glinting in his irises. “Give me your word that from the moment you call me, I have twenty four hours to find you so I can take care of all those awful men the right way. If I don’t make it in that time frame, they’re fair game, but if I find out that you laid a finger on them before you called me, I’ll personally see to it that you do time for every single man you’ve hospitalized. Can you agree to that?”

And you had. Partly because you had no interest in spending any prolonged amount of time behind bars, and partly because the odd sense of emotional recognition he’d gazed upon you with had been so unlike anything you’d ever been met with from another human being that you were essentially startled into instant complacency.

“He’s in the bathroom,” you sigh, downing the rest of your drink and flagging the bartender down for another. More for show than anything else, though you know the theatrics aren’t strictly necessary. Your drink of choice while out with company is much more coke than it is rum, and after two years there isn’t any doubt in your mind that Spencer is aware of that. “Has been for a while now, as a matter of fact, because he’s pompous and arrogant and wants to make sure the bait is set right for the barely legal girl he’s meeting here tonight.”

“Don’t suppose you want to share with the class the barely legal method you used to figure that one out?” Spencer deadpans, plucking your new drink from the bar and draining a few healthy sips before you even have the chance to reach for it. That’s something he’s never done before, though you suppose his repulsion to germs wouldn’t factor in one way or the other since the drink was fresh. But Spencer never indulged in alcohol around you, and was always incredibly careful to keep his guard up during these meetings. Either he was playing a different angle tonight, or something in him had drastically shifted.

“Only if you want to share with the class why I’ve been tailing this guy for two and a half weeks while you dodged my phone calls,” you retort, never breaking eye contact as you grab the glass and tilt the rim to your mouth, in just the same place that Spencer’s had been. You think you see a vein in his neck pulse as you swallow, but you can’t be sure whether the lights are playing tricks on you, so you decide not to count it. “Not like you to leave an innocent man’s life in my hands.”

Spencer arches a brow, eyes narrowing as he searches your face for something you’re not sure about. “Not like you to wait to hear back from me before doing anything about it.” He pauses, then, and more to himself than to you mutters, “And I’ve never said they were innocent.”

“Guess you’re right,” you mutter, shrugging a shoulder and leaning back in your chair as you let your eyes scan around the restaurant. The man you’re looking for is still nowhere to be found, and with the way your nerves are beginning to fray beneath Spencer’s all too calm and collected scrutiny, it’s hard to get ahold of your imagination as it barrels toward the worst case. “He’s still not back.”

“He’s probably still in the bathroom,” Spencer offers, giving an unconcerned shrug of his own. “You said he was a primper.”

“It’s been almost twenty minutes,” you shoot back, fixing him with a harsh stare. Normally you’d bother to be a bit more vivacious when speaking to Spencer, even in spite of your own irritation, but the sinking feeling in your stomach is making it impossible to pay attention to niceties. “That’s never happened before. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” But even to you Spencer’s words sound hesitant, like he’s trying to convince rather than tell, and somehow his lack of confidence only serves to make your throat that much thicker. “He couldn’t have left already, you would’ve seen him.”

Yeah, you would have — provided you hadn’t allowed every ounce of your attention to be monopolized by Spencer. You’d been so preoccupied with trying to appeal to his attention, so hung up on matching him wit for wit and taunting and tempting him with bared flesh and sultry gazes that, truthfully, anything could have escaped your notice in the last couple of minutes. Anything. And if some poor girl ended up preyed upon, if she ended up beaten or assaulted or worse, it wouldn’t be as simple as blaming the monster taking advantage of her. You wouldn’t even be able to blame Spencer for distracting you. No— the only person you’d have to blame would be yourself.

“He’s gone,” you breathe, horror a jagged knife twisting in your stomach. Your hands shake so badly that Spencer has to uncurl your fingers from around your glass so he can set it gently down for you. “God, he’s— I let him get away. He’s gone.”

“Don’t work yourself up,” Spencer insists, and if you weren’t sure your panic was playing tricks on you, you’d have sworn you saw his hand reach out to comfort you, just as you saw apprehension tensing his expression. Of course the one thing it took to get a reaction out of him would be unbridled panic. “Listen to me, everything is fine.”

“Not for whatever girl he decided he liked enough to blow off his date for!” you hiss, and it’s a strain to keep your volume low enough not to attract the attention of any other patrons, but you manage. “We need to— Spencer, we have to stop him! He’s going to hurt somebody!”

“Okay,” Spencer tries to calm you, quickly moving to his feet. You can’t get a read on the way he’s looking at you, can’t tell if he’s taking you seriously or trying to decide if he should make a phone call to he nearest psychiatrist, but he seems to be picking up on the urgency of the situation, so you make the choice to let it go. “Let me go check the bathroom to see if he’s still here. If he’s not there, then we can start worrying.” He turns, taking three steps towards the bathroom before spinning on his heel and coming back to say, “Just— stay here, okay? Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

And as you watch his back as he makes the trek towards the restroom, you think about doing what he tells you to. Truly, you do. Spencer could walk into that bathroom and find the man you’d been planning to turn over to his custody and come back with him in handcuffs, unable to help leveling a handsome smirk at you by way of a silent I told you so. You could be panicking for nothing.

But… if there was even the slightest chance that someone innocent could be in the worst kind of danger, was it really worth leaving their fate up to a coin toss?

You’re on your feet as soon as Spencer’s out of sight, beelining for the exit and dodging between other patrons until your legs have carried you out the door and immediately to the dimly lit corner of the block, lined with the closed shops and darkened alleys the man you were after would need to get away with the unspeakable acts he planned to commit. Even as you book it to stop what you know in your gut to be happening, you can’t help but to hope that Spencer had been right. Things would certainly be easier to stomach, were that the case.

But, as you’d somehow known with sickening clarity, the closer you draw to the dark alley gaping between the buildings down the street, the more prominent sounds of a struggle become. You heard a man’s voice — deep and angry and enough to set your hands shaking and your mind blazing with fury — and then, beneath that, the muffled, whimpered cries of a young woman, the sounds of which were so pitiful that you didn’t need to have laid an eye on her to know that she was already sobbing. After that, all thoughts of Spencer effectively flew out the window. Suddenly all there was in your mind’s eye was you, some poor innocent girl having the worst night of her life, and what you were going to do to ensure that nothing bad befell her or any other girl ever again.

“Hey!” you screech, running head first into the alley. “Get the fuck off of her!”

There isn’t any time to survey your surroundings, to take stock of the fact that the man you’d known would be out here was in the process of brutalizing a young woman — one who looked to be barely more than a teen, to your unadulterated horror — nor was there time to really assess what you were barreling toward. All you knew was that your body moved of its own volition, and it was much too late to think things through once you’d collided so forcefully with the assailant that you’d knocked him bodily to the ground. It was too late to second guess yourself now, to wonder whether it wouldn’t be smarter to wait for Spencer, who could actually, legally take care of this guy. The only thing that mattered now was getting justice for everyone who had been too incapacitated to stand up for themselves.

“What the fuck?” the man hisses from beneath you, but you’re already whipping around to get a look at the frightened girl staring down at you. Her eyes are rimmed red, tears trailing down her cheeks, and to your morbid relief, you note that she appears to have no more than an expression of horror on her face.

You’d made it in time, then. By the grace of some higher power, you’d made it in time.

“There’s an FBI agent in the bar down the street,” you bark at her, struggling against the brute strength of the man you were trying — and failing — to keep pinned down. “His name is Spencer Reid. Find him.”

And that was all you had to say before she was running off down the alley and out of sight, the mercy of her safety striking such a psychological chord that you were just distracted enough for the man beneath you to throw a punch that successfully manages to clip you on the jaw, causing stars to swim in your vision as a result.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he hisses, quickly pushing himself to his feet and leering over you with a sneer. It made sense that he was under the impression that he had the upper hand— were you anyone else, he likely would have, and you’d have been little more to him than a replacement for the target you’d just saved.

But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t helpless, or defenseless, and you certainly weren’t about to let this lowlife get away with all of the things he thought he was. No — you were someone hellbent on making a lasting difference in the world, and if that had to start with this guy getting his head bashed in, then so be it. You were down a tire iron, but your rage was weapon enough.

You wait until he grabs at your shoulder, waiting for just the right moment as he fully extends his elbow before punching as hard as you can against it in the opposite direction, not pausing to hear the sickening crunch of his bone snapping before rolling to the side, jumping to your feet, and subsequently kicking out his knee with a high heel clad foot. His howls of pain are equivalent to music in your ears, but you don’t pause to revel in the sound before you continue on with enacting your justified persecution. In this moment, you aren’t yourself. You’re not sure who you are, as a matter of fact, but you know it isn’t someone willing to let this lowlife get away with the mass amounts of pain and terror he’s inflicted on so many innocents.

“You like that, baby?” you snarl, letting your foot fly against his unprotected ribcage over and over again between sentences. “Does that feel good? Hmm?”

“You—“ The man cuts himself off with a hacked cough, spluttering and moaning as blood trickles down his chin. You’re not sure if that’s because you’ve kicked him in the face without noticing or because you’ve done enough damage to have already caused internal bleeding, but you’re not overly focused on figuring it out. “You psychotic— bitch,” he spits, and the hatred he gazes up at you with is so potent that you can’t help the wicked grin that curls across your mouth in response.

“That’s right,” you murmur, hovering your foot over the center of his chest for just a moment before digging your heel into his sternum. The harder you press, the louder he roars, and the louder he roars, the more you’re inclined to ensure that his screams continue. It’s a vicious cycle, but one you’re much too fond of to let go. “I’m a crazy, psychotic bitch because I’m a woman who stands up for herself and other women, and because I won’t let shitbags like you take advantage of us. Do you even know how old that girl was?”

His face contorts in pain, hands flying to your ankle in an attempt to pry your foot off his chest, but with one arm out of commission and pain proving to be too much of a distraction, he doesn’t manage to make any significant progress in alleviating your attacks. “Fuck you,” he hisses, but even to your ears, the vulgar words sound weak and reedy.

“I’m sure you’d like to,” you shoot back, digging your heel in that much further. You wait until you see tears welling in the corners of his eyes before letting any of the pressure up, and when you’re sure he’s hurting too badly to try and pull a fast one on you, you step off his chest and kneel to the ground, straddling his torso before your hands snake up to form a necklace at his throat. “You’re not used to girls fighting back, are you? You’re not used to anyone putting up a fight, and because of that you think you can just take whatever you want. Is that right?”

His eyes bulge out of their sockets as you begin to squeeze, hissed obscenities caught in his throat with nowhere to go, and the more he claws at the manacles your hands form, the tighter you let your grip become. It’s power, what you feel as you reconcile with the fact that you’re now quite literally holding this man’s life in your hands, and for a moment, you forget everything else. That you were only in this situation because you’d set out to save someone, that you’d sent that very same someone to go and fetch Spencer to come resolve all of this, that you weren’t an angel of death enacting revenge upon those who rightfully deserved what was coming to them. All those things washed away in the night, in just the same way as the beginning rainfall washed the man’s blood onto the ground in runny pink ribbons. It was only you and him, now. Nothing else mattered.

“You know, it’s men like you,” you snarl, squeezing so tightly against his throat that your knuckles go white and your fingers stiff, “that make people afraid to walk home alone at night. To send their kids off to college, to let their little ones grow up and experience the world. Because there are always— always monsters like you just waiting to take advantage of us. And no one’s ever made you pay for that, before, have they? That’s why you’re still so cocky, and confident enough to pull this shit out in the open because you know you’ll get away with it.”

Distantly, in the back of your mind, you think you hear someone calling your name. It’s hard to say for certain; with how focused you are on enacting revenge, on making sure this lowlife feels every single ounce of pain he’s ever managed to inflict on another unsuspecting human, your senses aren’t left with much more of an attention span. Even if they had been, you wouldn’t have bothered using it. Your fury, burning your nerves like hellfire, proves such a strong beacon of desire that you have no choice but to indulge. It feels good, the way his breath catches beneath where the heel of your palm digs into his throat, and you can tell by the way his eyes are beginning to cloud that if you keep it up, if you press just a little harder, squeeze just a little more—

Warm, strong arms snake around your middle, forming an inescapable cage of iron trying to pry you off the man beneath you, and the primal snarl that rips from your throat in response is a clear threat, but it does nothing to deter them. Hyperfixated as you are on finishing the job and ensuring that the man on the ground never lives to breathe another day, you don’t have the attention to spare, but your subconscious takes in the sharp scent of cloves filling your nostrils, the soft brush of curls against your shoulder, the domineering grip shackling your wrist maintaining a surprising air of gentleness. Your name is hurriedly whispered into your ear once, twice, three times, and by the fourth round you realize they’re not whispers at all — they’re shouts.

“Let go of him,” Spencer barks, bruising your ribs with how harshly he yanks you backwards. “Listen to me, listen to me. Let go of him.”

“Get off me!” you hiss in pain, stars dancing across your vision as you feel a slight bend in one of your bones, throwing an elbow back in retaliation. It lands square on his chest, and though the resulting grunt of pain he gives is certainly satisfying, it isn’t worth the grip you lose on the man’s neck. Once you’re down by one hand, it isn’t at all difficult for Spencer to wrench the second one back, and before you know it you’re a good ten feet down the alley, kicking and screaming wildly against Spencer’s grip as the monster you’d nearly strangled to death sputtered his way back to life.

“Calm down,” Spencer snaps, voice deep and low in your ear as he adjusts his grip around your torso so that you’re more fully pressed agains his body. “You need to breathe, do you hear me? Snap out of it. She’s okay. You got here in time and she’s okay. She’s safe, and you’re safe. Calm down. Calm down.”

You want to tell Spencer that he’s wrong. That you can’t be safe, that no one can be, so long as the man groaning on the ground across the alley is allowed to keep breathing. That this man can’t be allowed to live another day, waiting for the next opportunity to take advantage of an unsuspecting stranger who didn’t know any better. That it would be better to put him down now than to wait around for him to fuck up all over again, to ruin someone else’s life.

So you do.

Or, you try to. But all that manages to leave your mouth is little more than bent sobs and broken screams.

“It’s okay,” Spencer goes on, “it’s alright. Everything’s alright.” He uses the grip he’s got on your arm to spin you around, muffling your sobs as he brings your head against his chest and keeps it there with a gentle hand rested against the back of your head. Your body’s shaking so badly against his that, with your eyes still closed, you’re certain you’re still struggling to free yourself from his grip. It isn’t until you feel your fingers — numb with cold and shock and adrenaline — curl into his jacket that you realize you’re holding onto him for dear life. “Just breathe. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

“He was going to—“ You cut yourself off with a choked sob, shaking your head profusely. “He was going to—“

“I know,” Spencer murmurs, “I know. You don’t have to explain, just breathe.”

You hate this — that he’s caught you in such a vulnerable position, that he’s bearing witness to the rapid decline of your mental state. You hate that this is what it took to finally get him to wrap his arms around you, to offer words of reassurance and certainty rather than fixing you with unimpressed looks and exasperated eye rolls. Most of all, though, you hate that he’s now seen you at your worst, and that, going forward, he’ll never quite be able to dissociate you from the monster you truly are.

You don’t know how long he holds you there, murmuring insistent reassurances into your ear as he holds you gently to his chest. For how at odds it is with every other interaction you’d had with him — those ones where he’d roll his eyes, wave you off, regard you as little more than a vapid, spoiled brat who was all too used to getting her way — it’s nearly impossible to reconcile how you’d grown used to being treated with how you were being treated now. And though it’s certainly the last thing your mind should be focussing on, though you really don’t have the mental capacity required to work through this on top of everything else, you can’t help but come to the realization that you’re actually quite fond of the change.

A voice from across the alley cuts through the careful atmosphere of misguided comfort Spencer has crafted for you, and though he won’t let you turn around — actually goes so far as to squeeze his arms more tightly around your middle so that you can’t — the very sound of the man’s voice sends you dangerously close to the edge of the precipice all over again. “Are you… the fed that bitch was talking about?” His voice is hoarse, and half his words come out in broken hacks. It’s childish in the most juvenile of ways, but you can’t help the twinge of satisfaction that sparks to life in your blood. “Arrest her! She tried to kill me!”

“Actually,” Spencer mutters darkly in response, “from where I’m standing and from what that high school senior told me, she was only trying to stop you from committing assault. If anyone here is getting arrested tonight, it’s you.”

“Are you— are you fucking serious?” The blatant shock shooting his cracked voice up two octaves might have been funny, were the situation that led to it not so horribly severe. “She broke my fucking leg!”

“Thing is,” Spencer shoots back, never even missing a beat, “they do a lot worse to rapists in prison. I’d know— I’ve seen it.” The way his voice drops as the words tumble from his mouth catches your attention, but you don’t have the time to properly contemplate asking why before he’s going on. “You ask me, she went a little too easy on you. Remember that when you finally get what’s coming to you.”

And then Spencer’s calmly leading you away, maintaining a gentle yet firm grip on your waist to keep you from trying to look back. Even if you could, you don’t imagine you’d be much inclined to. You have no remorse for what you’d nearly done, and, truthfully, you’d left men in far worse states in the past. You know that; Spencer does, too. Yet, even in spite of that, even in spite of the fact that this was the second night he’d born witness to you attempting to kill a man, his touch on your body remains soft, and he curls over you like a protective blanket.

“We can’t just leave him,” you find the strength to whisper once you’ve put a healthy amount of distance between you and the alley’s opening. The street lights grow brighter the closer the two of you get to the bar, and you’d never admit it out loud, but it makes you feel that much safer. “He’ll get away. You need to… you need to go back.”

“I called the police as soon as I went to go check the bathroom,” Spencer tells you, leading you back into the safety of the bar. Suddenly surrounded by the sounds of raucous laughter and joyful whoops, it’s almost easy to forget what just occurred outside — almost. “They were on standby in case anything went wrong, but I had them hang back until I could get you out of there safely. They’re probably in the middle of cuffing him now.”

“And the girl?” you ask, so dazed that you don’t even protest or make any sort of snappy remark as Spencer gently helps you into a secluded corner booth. “She’s... you made sure she got home safe?”

“I called her a taxi and gave her my phone number,” Spencer answers, fixing you with as reassuring a stare as he can manage. “She’s going to give me a call in the morning about pressing charges. She was scared and a little banged up, but he didn’t... nothing happened. You stopped it before it could.”

You’re too weak to do anything with the knowledge but nod and sink down to the table, protectively covering your head with your arms as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. Dark thoughts, thoughts twisted in rage and a deeply intense need to protect, continue swirling through your mind, and if you’d thought catching your breath was impossible before, it’s effectively become something of an Olympic sport now, though the reasoning for why effectively evades your understanding. What you’d been through tonight, what you’d been ready to do to that man — if he could even be called a man — isn’t anything that’s never happened before. Hell, scum like that were the very reason you’d gotten caught up with Spencer in the first place.

But… something’s different now. You can tell by the way the oxygen rattles through your lungs, the way you can’t still your shaking fingers as they clatter against the tabletop. You don’t know what it is, where it’s come from, or how to stop it, but it’s there, and you can feel it.

Fingers softly brush up against one of your wrists, startling you so forcefully from your reverie that you can’t help the cry of shock that drops from your mouth as you yank your arm back with as much urgency as if you’d been burned. Seconds pass, then ten, then thirty, and even as your subconscious mind works double time to interpret the concerned light in Spencer’s eyes in response to his touch, you remain unable to fully come back to the present.

“You need to eat something,” he tells you, casting his eyes back down to the table. It’s a testament to how much time has passed that there are now two glasses of water covered in condensation that, up until this point, you’d not even been aware were present. “It’ll help with the shock.”

“I’m not going into shock,” you mutter, squeezing your hands together and resting them in front of you. Spencer catches sight, but if he has something to say about it he keeps it to himself. “And I’m not hungry. I just want to go home.”

“And I’ll take you there,” Spencer responds, metaphorically digging his feet in. “But you need to eat something first. And drink water.”

You roll your eyes, shakily moving to stand. “I’m not—“

“Sit down.” The hard glint in his eyes, sharp and metallic as a knife, makes it clear that he isn’t asking, and against your stubborn will, you immediately do as he commands. You want to think it’s simply because you’re too tired to fight back rather than too frightened or intimidated, but then, you can’t quite be sure. At least, not until Spencer leans across the table, insistently holding your gaze in something that you think might be a warning, and it’s only now that you realize he’s been holding back his frustration in favor of seeing to your needs, just as his composure begins to slip. “I told you to wait for me at the bar.”

“Yeah, you did,” you respond with a halfhearted roll of your eyes. “You should have known better.”

“No,” Spencer shoots back, “you should have listened to me. Instead you went and broke your word, all because you had something to prove to yourself.”

You can’t help but scoff in disbelief at Spencer’s implication, momentarily startled into genuine speechlessness. Those words hurt — so much so that you really weren’t inclined to admit that they did, lest Spencer think he have more power over you than you were actually willing to give him. So instead, you pushed back the hurt and leaned into the rage. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but at this point, you’d try just about anything to cut through the debilitating numbness medicating your senses at the moment.

“I didn’t break shit!” you hiss, repressing the urge to scream. “And if you really think I did what I did because I was thinking of myself, then you’re just as bad— no, scratch that, you’re… you’re even fucking worse than the rest of them!”

And you expect Spencer to launch some scathingly cruel insult back at you, one that cuts you deeper than you’d ever known words could be capable of, because Spencer’s a genius, after all, and he’s kept up with you enough over the years that he knows how to make an insult hurt if he wants it to. To your admitted surprise, though, he doesn’t open his mouth and hurl knives your way; he doesn’t even look at you like he wants to hurt you, in the way that you’re positive you’re looking at him. Instead, he only blinks down at you, carefully analyzing the expression on your face and the fury in your words before giving you any kind of response. It’s more than you deserve, really.

But Spencer’s soul has always struck you as kind.

“You could have gotten yourself hurt tonight,” he sighs, shaking his head in what you think could be disappointment. “You realize that, don’t you? That what you did was reckless and ridiculously stupid?”

You bark a harsh laugh in response to that, shaking your head as you go on squeezing your hands together. “In case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t the one in danger. Believe me, you didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“You said he’s escalated to killing girls after assaulting them,” Spencer presses, and it’s only as you minutely glance down at the table that you realize he’s curling his hands into fists of his own. “Did you ever stop to think that if he’d managed to overpower you, that could have happened to you too?

“Well it didn’t, did it?” you snap, searching for the power to quell your sudden annoyance. You know it’s misplaced; Spencer’s only doing his best to take care of you, without saying as much in so many words. You should be happier for it; after all, hadn’t you spent years attempting to get Spencer to consider you? To leave lasting impressions on his mind? To sneak your way into his late night, private, personal thoughts? Sure, on the surface it had all been more for show than anything else, but… even if he’d never known the truth, you certainly always did. “I’m fine. Okay? Fine. I’m not going into shock—“

“You’re certainly acting like you are.”

“— I’m not having a panic attack—“

“Again, you could have fooled me.”

“— and I’m not hungry! Okay? I’m not! I just want to go home!”

And it’s lucky that Spencer had the foresight to seat the both of you as far away from the general population of the bar as possible, lest any of the unsuspecting strangers hear the two of you squabbling over something so harrowing, but even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have cared enough to bother lowering your voice. All of these people, laughing, chatting, obliviously participating in their good times, and all the while an innocent girl had nearly been violated just a few buildings away out on the street. It wouldn’t have been their fault — really, the only person that should have been held accountable was hopefully being dragged to the police station at this very moment — but the fact that life could so casually go on while a child had to suffer the worst night of their life in silence just didn’t sit particularly well in your throat.

You inhale a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you brace against the inky misery staining your senses. When you open them again, blinking through the stubborn tears trying to form in the brim of your eyes, you find Spencer carefully considering your face, and all you can do is hope he doesn’t notice the way your lip wobbles.

“I just want to go home,” you say again, hardly managing to get the words out in anything above a whisper. “Please, Spencer, just… I don’t… I can’t be here right now. Please just take me home.”

It’s hard to say what exactly takes the fight out of him. It could be the way you’ve said his name, softly, desperately, pleading in a manor which you’re certain he’s never heard from you before. But then, it could also be the tears welling in your eyes, far more conspicuous a sight than you’d have liked and one Spencer had only ever been confronted with once before. Whatever it is that’s done the trick, it prompts the softening of his gaze, along with the gentle downturn of the curve of his mouth. Just out of the corner of your eye, you think you see his fingers dancing hesitantly over the table top as they steadily migrate closer to yours, and though he doesn’t try to make contact with you this time, he manages to offer you an inexplicable amount of comfort as his fingers dance in a mirror image of the motions of yours.

“Okay,” Spencer concedes, frustration fading out of his expression to allow concern to take the lead. “If that’s what you need, then okay. But— just, put this on, at least.” Before you can interpret his meaning, he’s shrugging out of his jacket and pushing it across the table, and before you can protest, he’s pressing forward stubbornly. “It’s raining outside, you’re shaking, and that dress is gorgeous but it’s not going to stop you from catching hypothermia. Just wear it until we get to the car.”

He’s not leaving you a choice, judging by the glint in his eye that makes it clear he isn’t willing to hear any back talk on the subject. You consider doing so anyway — partly because you’re not sure you’re in the mood to take orders from Spencer, no matter how emotionally distressed you are, and partly because you’re afraid the weight of his jacket on your skin and the scent of his cologne in your nose would be just a bit too intimate for you to handle in this moment — but ultimately, you do as he asks, grabbing at the dark bundle of fabric and wrapping it around yourself like a blanket of protection.

It’s… warm. And it smells good, too. Embarrassing as it is, concentrating on further inhaling the scent of it — of him — is nearly enough to instantly cause your hands to cease their trembling.

“Let’s go,” Spencer murmurs, offering his hand as he stands from the table.

Wordlessly, you take it.

––

Part Two: Something of a Dangerous Game

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #angst #hurt #comfort #semi fluff #unsub reader #tw assault #tw violence #tw language #tw blood mention

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hb-writes · 4 years ago

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A Little Raven

Written in response to Hauntober prompt #15: Raven.

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe! A chat between sisters-in-law followed by a chat between Lizzie and Tommy. This is a bit long and self-indulgent and might not be particularly consistent with canon but oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Characters Featured: Lizzie Shelby, Clara Shelby (Shelby!Sister), Tommy Shelby

—–

“Frances said you wanted me first?”

Lizzie turned from the window, allowing the passage of a brief smile as she glanced at her sister-in-law. Like her husband, Lizzie still saw a couple of kids when she looked at Clara and Finn, still saw the little girl who passed her time with books and papers while sitting on the stoop at Watery Lane, still saw the boy with a keen eye for mischief and a disposition towards unsanctioned sweets. She supposed those visions still held true. None of them were so different to be unrecognizable through the years. Some traits endured the transition to adulthood, no matter what transpired in the interim.

Clara stripped out of her coat, placing it over the back of the chair before following Lizzie’s gaze out to the yard where Ruby and Charles played with the nanny, their squeals and laughter sharp and clear through the pane of the closed window.

Clara sat in one of the armchairs, pulling her feet up and working on untying her boot laces while she waited. She was used to the reticent moments, used to people taking their time in revealing why she’d been summoned somewhere in the first place. She found it a pleasant change for Lizzie to be inviting her to the drawing-room for a visit rather than Tommy summoning her to his office for one of his chats, even if her sister-in-law was very clearly preoccupied.

The thud of Clara’s shoes hitting the floor as she slipped them off her feet pulled Lizzie’s eyes towards her for a moment before she settled them on the girl’s discarded boots, understated but still expensive, something Tommy had probably paid for.

Lizzie wasn’t ignoring her on purpose, Clara knew that. She was just distracted, caught up in her own thoughts, turning something over in her mind. Clara just wasn’t certain how she fit into those thoughts.

“Lizzie?” Clara said.

“Mmm?” Lizzie hummed, finally fixing her eyes on Clara.

“You did ask for me, right?” Clara said.

“I suppose you’d prefer to go be with the children,” Lizzie mused. “Or to go say hello to your brother?”

“Is he home already?” Clara asked, glancing down at the small watch on her wrist as she adjusted the clock face. It was barely past five.

Lizzie scoffed, gave a single shake of her head. Tommy was eternally late in coming home, and habitually premature in leaving it.

“Well, that leaves more time for us to catch up, then,” Clara offered, absently kneading the arch of her foot. “I came home to be with all of you, Lizzie.”

“Right, all of us,” Lizzie answered, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “When’s the last time you saw all of us here, Clara? When’s the last time he graced us with his presence at a decent hour?”

It was the previous Sunday, Clara remembered, and he’d come out of his office just before dinner, played with Charles and Ruby a bit before eating with Clara, Lizzie, and the kids, but Clara had the feeling Lizzie didn’t want to be reminded of that.

“Did you talk to him?” Clara asked.

Lizzie took a deep breath and nearly gagged, feeling as though she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from conjuring up the contents of her latest meal, the sick feeling in her stomach beyond the typical bout of morning sickness, more of a nauseating dread which had settled in the pit of her stomach.

The last time she’d been here, in this condition, Lizzie had been optimistic. Nearly five years later, she felt anything but. And despite all the strength she’d decided on summoning, despite deciding to stay, to accept Tommy and his faults, to balance her head against her heart, she hadn’t planned on this as a part of the deal.

‘A little you and me,’ she’d offered Tommy when she’d told him of the first baby growing inside of her, a smile on her face, a bit of hope in her heart.

She had little hope this time, little positivity about the life prospects for yet another child of Thomas Shelby, a little boy nonetheless, a little raven-haired boy who would have his parents’ blue eyes, his father’s strong jaw, the unmistakable markings of a Shelby.

If Tommy had kept all of his promises, if he’d done right and put a proper stop to the sport for anyone named Shelby. If he’d kept Finn and Clara away from the life, Lizzie might have thought differently. She might have felt nothing but happiness at the prospect of another child with a little tuft of raven hair and bright blue eyes, but in half a decade, Tommy had dealt her plenty of empty assurances.

She feared enough for the children already. Her Ruby was a different child around her father, a bit nervous, a bit quiet. The girl didn’t know the same Tommy that Clara and Finn knew, nor the father Charlie had had for a time, at least while he was young.

This baby would never know that version of Tommy either, not really. Her children would spend their lives distant from the man they called dad, and there was part of Lizzie that didn’t think it to be a terrible thing.

Clara reached out to clasp Lizzie’s hand. “Lizz--”

“Polly says it’s a boy.”

“Oh,” Clara answered, pulling her hand back. “That’s--”

Lizzie cleared her throat and continued. “A little raven-haired boy named James.” She opened her cigarette case, placed the fag between her lips. “Jamie,” she added. “And no, I haven’t told your brother.”

Clara frowned. She was tired of holding the secret she’d accidentally overheard when Lizzie confided in Polly. She was tired of pretending with her brother, tired of avoiding him. It wasn’t easy work, withholding information from him because, despite the best of Clara’s efforts, Tommy possessed an uncanny ability to know when his sister was keeping something from him.

“He loves being a father, Lizzie. He’ll be--”

“Happy?” she suggested. “I’m less worried about your brother being happy than I am worried for all of you kids.”

“All of us?”

Lizzie lit the cigarette, puffing before she pointed it at Clara.

“Yes, you and Finn are included.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Lizzie.”

“Right, with Finn running around getting himself shot and you--”

“What about me?”

“Neither one of you kids has a healthy sense of self-preservation, always pushing when you haven’t a need, and you’ve passed it right on to those two. Maybe it’s in the blood, an inherited recklessness that--”

“Is that really what you’re worried about? That I’ve taught the kids to stand up for themselves and I’ll teach the baby the same?” Clara asked.

Lizzie glanced out the window again, the things she was truly scared about swirling in her mind while she watched Ruby and Charles holding hands as they went round in circles.

“It’s a bad omen, a raven,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clara answered. “A baby can’t be a bad omen.”

Lizzie was beginning to believe that the Shelby name was a curse and that despite her husband’s promises, not one of the kids would live a life unmarred by it, not Finn, not Clara, not Charles nor Ruby, and not the unborn son growing in her womb. And despite knowing Thomas Shelby loved the children, she feared what she already knew to be true, that loving a person wasn’t always enough.

These days, Tommy’s moments of softness were harder to come by. The types of moments Clara held on to when her brother was difficult, the moments that reminded her through the tough spots that he did much of what he did out of love, for protection or survival. Lizzie didn’t know her children would have that, didn’t know that a raven-haired boy looking just like his father could ever garner as much care as he’d deserve from the man, enough of the affection that he would need to someday to get through the tough spots.

“He’s not how he once was with you,” Lizzie said.

“He’s not been like that for a long while, Lizzie, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love them.”

“I know he loves them, loves all of you, but I worry someday they won’t have memories enough to forgive him as you do.”

“I don’t forgive him because of the memories, Lizzie,” Clara answered. “I forgive him because he’s nearly my father and because I know he cares for me as much as I care for him. Ruby and Charles know that. Jamie will, too.”

Clara joined Lizzie on the couch. “And regardless, you care for us all well enough whether that fool joins us for dinner or not.”

Lizzie set her cigarette down in the tray and accepted Clara’s offered hug, allowing herself to release a breath of relief with the girl in her arms.

“Well, that may be, but it doesn’t settle my nerves about you and Finn,” Lizzie said as she pulled away.

Clara rolled her eyes. “You’ve not--”

“Glad I’m not the only one concerned.”

Clara glanced at her watch again before looking at Tommy where he stood by the door. “You’ve actually come early?”

He nodded. “Someone had Adam make it very clear in my diary that I was meant to be home at a respectable hour today.”

Clara hummed, feigning an impressed surprise, as though she hadn’t begged Tommy’s personal secretary at the commons to adjust his schedule to accommodate him being back in Warwickshire so early on a Friday evening.

“Right. I think I’ll leave you two and go say hello to Charlie and Ruby while we wait on Finn,” Clara offered, slipping past Tommy on her way to the door.

“Forgetting something, Clara?”

Clara turned back to him, snatching the forgotten boots from his outstretched hand.

“When our brother gets in, we can have a talk about your excursion in London on Tuesday evening, eh?”

Clara sighed. “I think we’re a bit old for a lecture, Tommy. It was nothing.”

“Seems like you two idiots’ll never be too old for a lecture,” he answered. “But go on. Go see the kids. I’m sure they’ve been asking after you all day.”

Tommy watched his sister leave before taking the seat beside his wife. “Now, while we wait for Finn, you and I can have a talk about that baby you’ve got growing inside you, eh Lizzie?”

Lizzie scoffed. "Polly told you then? Or was it Clara?”

Tommy shook his head. Of course, his sister knew. He cleared his throat.

“It was actually you, Lizzie,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Been eating honey on everything. Last time you did that was when you were pregnant with our Ruby.”

Lizzie nodded, looked out at the kids again, saw Clara had joined Ruby and Charles, and the three of them were laughing like a set of maniacs as they ran about the lawn.

“You’re worried,” Tommy offered, guiding his wife’s face to his. “Let me into that head of yours, Lizzie.”

She leaned into his touch as he cupped her cheek, allowed herself that comfort.

“To clear it out?” she mumbled.

Tommy nodded. “To clear it out. Just like we agreed.”

Lizzie placed her hand on top of his.

“Ruby’ll be asking after another sister.”

“Well, she’ll be disappointed then,” Lizzie answered. “It’s a boy.”

Tommy nodded. There was a time when he thought it mattered, back when boys became blinders and girls were considered liabilities but Tommy had stopped thinking that way, started thinking that Lizzie was right. And Grace had been right. There was only one way to keep them all safe.

“Either way,” he answered. “Another little you and me, eh?”

Lizzie nodded and Tommy pulled his eyes away at the approaching footsteps and laughter as Ruby and Charlie piled into the room.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“And what have you lot been up to, eh?” Tommy asked, pulling Ruby into his lap as Charlie came to sit beside them.

“We’ve been playing, daddy!” Ruby said.

“Dad, Aunt Clara said she and Uncle Finn are ready for a shouting at whenever you are,” Charlie said. “They went to your office.”

Tommy shook his head, glanced quickly at Lizzie before he looked back to his boy.

“What are you going to shout at them for, daddy?” Ruby asked, turning her head to look up at him.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” Tommy answered.

“He’s gonna shout because they’ve been naughty,” Charles said to his sister.

“Don’t shout very much, daddy,” Ruby answered. “It’ll ruin our supper.”

“I’m not going to shout. We’re just going to have a talk about them setting a better example for you kids.”

“And then we’ll have supper?” Ruby asked.

“Then supper, Ruby,” he said. “I had Frances ask chef to make a special honey cake for dessert.”

“For mummy?” Ruby asked. “Mummy loves honey cake.”

“And for your baby brother,” Lizzie answered, pulling Ruby’s hand to rest on her stomach. “The one growing in my belly.”

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder stories here.

#Hauntober #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #lizzie shelby #tommy shelby #Shelby!Sister #little lady blinder #clara shelby #lizzie stark #ruby shelby #charles shelby #tommy x lizzie

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every1studio · 4 years ago

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true feelings series: “last christmas” [ateez: wooyoung]

genre: angst + fluff (WARNING: mentions of terminal illness]

ficstyle: bulletpoints + series [HONGJOONG] [YUNHO] [SEONGHWA] [WOOYOUNG]

prompt: you didn’t want to tell wooyoung about your illness, so you wanted to give him one last happy memory of you two together

note: intentional lowercases / SORRY I AM NOT GOING TO WRITE FOR REQUESTS ANYMORE, I HOPE THAT YOU CAN UNDERSTAND AND THAT YOU WILL STILL READ MY WORKS WHEN I GET OUT OF THIS DEPRESSING WRITER’S BLOCK

you smiled from the couch you were bundled up on as you watched wooyoung laced the lights around the trees

“wooyoung, why don’t you take a break? I made you hot cocoa..”

he immediately drops everything and dashes over to cuddle with you

“what would I do without you?” he asks as he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck

you were smiling but you were hurting inside

the real question is what would you do without wooyoung?

you met him one year ago on christmas eve

you were walking out the hospital, you had just got word that you had only one year and a couple months left to live

you tried not to look so sad but the tears just wouldn’t stop

an adorable penguin mascot jumped in front of you and started to dance

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden performance

“there you go, you shouldn’t be so sad on christmas eve!”

you nodded as you tried to wipe your tears away

“hold on one second, I gotta be return this suit and I’ll meet you back here in a few, okay?”

you could trust this person, right?

nothing bad would happen to you since you were in the middle of the hospital plaza so you nodded once more and waited for the anonymous mascot wearer

“hey!”

you turned to see a handsome young guy jogging towards you, “I’m off work now.. you seem a little better..”

surely he was mistaking you for someone else, “um I think you’ve got the wrong person..”

he started dancing similarly to the penguin mascot, “remember me now?”

you chuckled out soft white puffs of clouds

“yeah..”

“I didn’t think that you were gonna wait for me.. you know, I’m a stranger after all..” the guy ruffled the hair on the back of his head

he seemed shy all of a sudden

“well.. what do you want with me?” you didn’t mean to sound so curt but your mind was running through places that would only happen in movies

“um.. I noticed you walking into the hospital and you know.. I’m out here dancing for 5 hours in this penguin suit so I saw you walking back out... and I saw you crying..”

“there are so many people walking in and out of the hospital... how did you even notice me?”

“who wouldn’t notice someone as beautiful as you?”

you turned down at your hands to hide your blushing face

you would blame the cold weather for your redden face if he asked

“is everything alright?” the guy bent down to try to catch your eyes

“I.. um.. I visited someone very close to me here at the hospital.. and there was some bad news.. and I don’t have much time with them..”

you blurted out a lie but there’s no harm in lying to a stranger, you thought

“how much time do they have left?” the guy made himself comfortable next to you; not too close, not too far

“a little over a year...”

“well you should make the time you have left with them worth remembering.. memories are everything.. now~”

he got up from his seat and held his hand out

“let’s go bring that frown upside down!”

you were reluctant to take his hand, “I don’t even know you..”

“but would you like to? I would like to get to know you.. if you gave me the chance..”

maybe you should give him a chance, you should be spontaneous and spend your time doing the things you’ve always wanted to do

“I don’t see why not,” you smiled as you took his hand

he wrapped your arm to link it into his, “i’m wooyoung.. sorry for the late introduction, princess”

“and i’m y/n...”

you spend a magical night with him

and after that night, you spent that week with him

and after that week, you spent that month with him

and that month became months

and now here we are, a full circle back to this night

christmas eve

and wooyoung still didn’t know about your illness

you hid it as much as you could

you built lies upon lies until it was so thick that you couldn’t shoulder the burden anymore

but you had to

for wooyoung

“remember the day we met for the first time?” wooyoung asked after taking a sip of his hot cocoa

you ran your fingers through his hair

“of course I do.. you were my knight in shining penguin suit..” you smiled trying to suppress a cough

“I was the handsomest penguin but hey, I got you something! hold on one sec, kay?”

wooyoung dashed upstairs

you took that time to cough into your handkerchief; blood stained it

you quickly shoved it into your pocket when you heard him coming back

“heard you coughing, are you okay?”

“yeah, I just choked on some hot cocoa..”

“just making sure you’re okay.. I don’t know about you but I want to you to open your present right now instead of tomorrow morning..”

you’re gonna miss his impatience

“sure, whatever you want..”

wooyoung gently placed the beautifully wrapped gift on your lap

you’re gonna miss his attention to detail

he was always into arts and crafts

you took your time to open it

you wanted to savor every moment you had with him

tears started to form, threatening to spill from your eyes

“I thought you’d like it..” wooyoung smiled widely and he couldn’t stop smiling

it was a fairly large snow globe; inside were you and wooyoung building a snowman version of the exact replica of the penguin mascot wooyoung wore when you first met him

there were other small details and objects that were either the inside jokes that you two shared and your favorite things

(the song that played was a music box version of your favorite song aurora by ateez)

“I absolutely love it..” you were speechless and those were the only other words other than “thank you” and “I love you”

wooyoung pulled you into a side hug and kissed your head, “merry christmas, princess”

“merry christmas, wooyoung..”

“now, where’s my gift,” he burst out into aegyo which caused you to cringe

“you can open it tomorrow~”

“what?! you know I can’t wait that long..”

you held both of his hands and placed them on your cheeks, “please?”

wooyoung rolled his eyes and pulled you close so that your face was hidden in the crook of his neck, “sure, sure, I guess..”

wooyoung loved the holidays; he wanted to be in charge of everything from cooking to decorations

so when he was cooking, you took this time to relieve yourself from a year worth of burden into a letter

you placed the letter in between the ribbon that held the present you got him together

after dinner, you and wooyoung cozied up next to the christmas tree as you two watched the snow fall layers upon layers

you pretended that everything was okay up until wooyoung brought up a sensitive subject, “so how’s your cousin doing? are you going to see them this christmas? since it’s their last?”

he was drawing circles on the small of your back as you tried to slow your heartbeat down

you bit the inside of your cheeks before answering, “no.. they’re.. spending their last christmas in paris... “

“christmas in paris.. that sounds like something on my bucketlist..” you felt wooyoung’s smile through his words

“that does sound amazing..”

“we should do it!”

your heart felt like someone wrung it like a towel, “what, christmas in paris?”

wooyoung nodded as his head shifted into the sofa; he was falling asleep

“I would love to go to paris for christmas with you..” you murmured

“I’d love to spend the rest of my life with you.. but I can’t..” you whispered even more quietly

you waited until you could hear him snore before you slipped away from his grasp

you kissed him one last time, trying to hold your tears back and trying to keep as quiet as you could

you had your go bag in your car; you decided to fly off to a quiet medical facility where you could spend the last few months that you had without worrying anyone

and hopefully the doctors can learn something from your illness so that no one else can go through the pain that you experienced

that night, wooyoung had a dream

you two were in paris for christmas

you two indulged yourselves in good cuisine

shopped like nobodies business

those moments flashed by like fairy lights

in the dream, wooyoung turned your face from looking up at the eiffle tower and took a breath

“y/n, you are everything I could ever ask for in a partner in crime.. everything you do, everything from your head to your toes.. makes me just want to ask you one question..”

he bent down on one knee; he didn’t care that his knees were getting cold and wet from the snow

“y/n.. will you marry me?”

you clasped your hands as your eyes glistened as the lights reflected off of them

“wooyoung.. I would love to.. I’d love to spend of the rest of my life with you... but I can’t...”

wooyoung felt himself falling; the abyss swallowing him and he could feel it in his stomach

the hardwood floor woke him up, he had fallen off of the couch

and he found himself all by himself

he looked over at the table that you placed the snow globe and it was gone

he frantically looked for you

the anxiety was eating himself alive

he found a post-it note on the christmas tree

“open your present without me!!”

maybe you had went out to get some fresh coffee, he saw the post-it note as a good sign that you would be back

wooyoung sat there and opened the gift you wrapped for him

the letter fell out and his hands shook as he reached for it

“wooyoung, my knight in shining armor. there was nothing that I could ask more than to ask for your forgiveness and this is why.

december 24th of last year, I went into the hospital hoping for good news that they had treatment for me and my condition. I wanted to grab onto any hope that I could. I didn’t want my illness to define who I was. but when my doctor told me of my limited time left on this earth, I couldn’t help but let go of all hope. there was no cousin who went to paris for christmas. that person with limited time for memories was me.

I left the hospital planning to coop myself up in my apartment until my expiry date. until I met you. day 1, you were just a stranger who I didn’t see the use in telling the truth to. but within a couple of weeks, you became someone I didn’t want to ever lose. I wanted to create as many memorable moments with you as I can, so that when I leave this earth, I only have good moments to hold onto.

I want you to continue making memorable moments without me. I know I’m being selfish and I know this isn’t fair to you.. but this was the best way for us to part.. someday, I’ll just be a memory to you. thank you for the best 365 days anyone could ever ask for. and I hope that you meet someone that will replace me. thank you for giving me the chance to meet you.

i’ll always love you, wooyoung. yours truly, y/n”

wooyoung couldn’t breathe

he wanted to look for you but he didn’t know where to start

he didn’t even know how to feel

should he be mad at you?

was it wrong to still be in love with you?

was it even possible to love someone else more than you?

he almost forgot the gift that you got for him

with trembling fingers, he opened the present

it was tablet; inside the tablet there was only one app

instagram; he opened it

you created a private account to post every moment that you had spent with each other

there was snippets of videos and photos; it was like a modern-day scrapbook

he looked at the most recent photo that was posted last night, it was a series of pictures of you and wooyoung cuddling beside the christmas tree

it was where you shared your last conversation

that was the moment wooyoung made himself a promise to you and he was certain that he would fulfill it in your name

a whole year passed by

you were probably already gone by that point; but wooyoung didn’t want to believe that

he could still feel that you were out there, looking up at the same snowy skies as him

wooyoung was spending christmas in paris by himself; physically, but spiritually he was in paris with you

“did you miss me?”

wooyoung has been hearing your voice every since you left him but this one felt closer and clearer

he’s always turned around and you were never there

wooyoung knew that there was 1 in a million chance that you were going to be right there, smiling at him

but he would turn around every single time

he thought he was seeing things

he thought that he was getting delusional

“y/n?”

“I know I should’ve said somethi-”

wooyoung didn’t let you finish your sentence

he ran into you and hugged you so hard

scared that if he let go, you would disappear again

“don’t you have questions for me?” your muffles were drowned out by his puffer jacket

“I do, but right now, I don’t want to let you go.. and right now, I only have one question for you..”

wooyoung gets on one knee, ignoring how quickly his knee felt frozen

he kept a tight hold of your left hand

“I love you and I always will.. there’s no one out there for me but you..y/n, you are everything I could ever ask for in a partner in crime.. everything you do, everything from your head to your toes.. makes me just want to ask you one question.. will you marry me? I’ll get a ring for you, I promise- ” ”

wooyoung kept on rambling on and on; probably from shock and adrenaline

you thought he was mad at you all this time

you thought he forgot and moved on without you

you thought there was a 1 in a million chance that he was going to be in paris for christmas

but you were going to take it

if there was a miracle that cured you from your illness, then maybe there’s another room in your life for a miracle

wooyoung’s eyes lit up when you nodded with joyous tears running down your face

wooyoung pulls you close and kisses you

“don’t ever leave me again..y/n, please..” he whispers between kisses

“I promise..” you smiled

you’re so thankful that you have many more christmas’s to spend with your knight in shining penguin suit

End.

[ masterlist + guidelines ]

#yenni writes #yenni posts #ateez scenarios #ateez jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez writing #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez blurb #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez angst #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x atiny #ateez christmas

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

Note

Request for yandere hunter with a werewolf darling, please?

The whole ‘cabin in the woods’ aesthetic is already too creepy to resist, honestly, but it’s nice to give your Yandere a good reason to be so mean, sometimes. Even if they still take advantage of it.

TW: Kidnapping, Violence, Mentions of Injury and Blood.

The cellar was cold.

It wasn’t the nice, pleasant chill of a light breeze on a hot summer day, or the bite carried in by the wind on the first day of winter. No, this was an unforgiving, endless cold, one that seeped through your skin and wrapped around your bones, so unrelenting you can’t even find it in yourself to shiver, after a few days. You’d fought it off, at first, following the thin, singular beam of sunlight allowed into the basement by its only window, but now it was all you could do to ball yourself up in a corner and try to huddle under the thin sheet your captor provided. He’d mentioned a bed, a few days ago, something more substantial than a mattress and a handful of blankets, but you doubted you’d ever get one.

For whatever reason, Orion didn’t strike you as a generous provider.

Even now, he made a point of staring you down before speaking, standing at the top of the old, wooden staircase and glaring down into the darkness, the door behind him still hanging open. It didn’t matter, though. Even if you made a run for it, even if you managed to snarl and snap your way past him, the iron collar wrapped around your neck would’ve stopped you, a chain thicker than your wrist keeping you attached to the floor. You’d already tried to bite your way through it, and pull the bracket from its stone confines, but you’d always been one of the weaker members of your pack. If the damned thing was going to budge, you couldn’t tell. You’d stopped trying when Orion threatened to tear your teeth out for looking at it the wrong way.

“You’ve been scratching again,” He started, drawing your attention back to him as he descended the staircase. Each step sent another creak through the small space, but if he noticed, he was content not to show it, his lips pursed as he scanned over the new array of thin, white indentations in the wall next to you, They were pitiful, dull little things, but they were symbolic of your rebellion, your will to do anything but follow his rules. You curled into yourself, and Orion sighed, coming to a stop in front of your crumpled form. “Another instinct thing? Do I need to bring a scratching post down here before you stop trying to scrape your way out of this?”

“I’m not a cat,” You mumbled, weakly, your voice muffled by your own reluctance to indulge him. “It’s boring, down here. I don’t have anything better to do.”

He chuckled, crouching down to your height. Even then, he towered over you, a mountain of a man in a uniform of flannel and denim. You did your best not to look at him, but it was impossible not to, especially when you had so few sources of stimulation. “Does the mutt need a chew toy?” He asked, a mocking drawl dripping from his tone. “Or, is the puppy finally ready to play? I’d hate for you to go and pout again, like the last time I tried to have a little fun with you.”

“Your fun hurts.” You hated how childish your voice sounded, how whiney the words came out. You were still unused to depending on words, having lived with those who relied on body language for so long, before you were thrown into the arms of a man who delighted in misinterpretations. You shifted uncomfortably beneath your blanket, and Orion seemed to notice, a fist soon clamped around one corner and jerking your last defense away, if only so he could better evaluate your pathetic state. You continued, if only out of spite, attempting to fight away the cold as you went on. “You’re a sick fuck if you think anyone could enjoy this. I want to go outside, Orion, I want to leave. I don’t like being trapped, or threatened, or-” You stopped, abruptly, taking your cable in one hand and reveling in the resulting rattle. “-chained to the fucking floor. I’m not some… some pet you can steal and expect not to fight back.”

Another laugh, this one throaty, obvious. He squared his shoulders, a wide, careless grin spreading across his lips as he watched you glower and glare. “Can’t I, sweetheart?” Nimble fingers reached out, entangling themselves roughly in your hair and pushing it back, letting you squirm and bat at his arm as he scanned over you. “You’re a threat, to yourself and others. Remember how I found you? All bloody and helpless, stuck in one of my snares without an ounce of strength left. This is for the best. You can’t get yourself killed, here. You can’t hunt down real people, when you’ve got your collar on.”

You growled, baring your teeth. Orion’s smirk only broadened. “My pack needs--”

“Your pack should be grateful.” Suddenly, he pulled you forward, away from your protective wall and into his chest, an arm looping around your waist to keep you from writhing. You struggled, bucking and fighting as best you could, but Orion just held you tighter, closer, as if suffocating you would help to establish his dominance. “I took in a runt and gave it a proper home. If anything, they should be thanking me for getting rid of such a little nuisance.” You felt his warm breath fan over your neck, the sensation quickly followed by a short, playful kiss, ending as quickly as it was initiated. “You should be thankful, too. And pack that relies on someone who can’t even take care of themselves isn’t a pack you should want to be part of.”

Of all things, that was your breaking point, the pride in his voice and how badly you wanted to tear his arrogant tongue out. Without thinking, you threw your weight against him, knocking the man off balance as you scrambled to maintain your own. Without moonlight, you were trapped as a graceless mess of odd angles and vulnerable flesh, but you made the best of what you were given to work with, forcing your elbow into his diaphragm and slashing at his face with your sharpened nails. You broke through the skin of his cheek easily, and the feeling of hot, thick blood running over your fingertips filled you with confidence. Foolish, impulsive confidence.

You didn’t make a sound as you locked your jaw into place and lunged for his neck, but Orion was faster, more used to petty limitations. He caught your shoulder, using your propulsion to redirect your path, slamming you into the floor and pinning you on your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. You panted breathlessly, attempting to recover, and Orion took the opportunity to pin your arms to your back, restraining you with a practiced ease. “Bad dog,” He muttered, the words barely audible. “Bad dog. All I fucking do is spoil you, and you still go and get it into your dumb little head to bite the hand that feeds you.”

You opened your mouth, a plea for forgiveness clashing violently with a vile insult, but Orion didn’t give you the chance to spit either out, only putting more pressure on the small of your back, letting something underneath his hand crack before he thought to fill the silence. “Clearly, you haven’t figured out which one of us is in charge, yet. That’s my fault, too.” He let up, but his grip didn’t loosen. Instead, it grew stronger, more firm.

More authoritative.

“I can’t expect you to behave before I take the time to train you properly.”

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hiscyarika · 5 years ago

Text

Marry Me

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Javier has another wedding to attend.

Warning(s): None

A/N: Listen, I know I said I was in my Whiskey feels but then I heard the song “Marry Me” by Thomas Rhett and it was all over from there. Sorry.

Masterlist

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Javier stands in front of the full-length mirror, his hands trembling just enough to make buttoning his white undershirt difficult. As he fumbles with the small discs, trying to make them fit into the holes of the shirt, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks up to meet his father’s eyes in the mirror, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“We’ve gotta get going, hijo. We don’t want to be late,” he says, drawing his hand back and then leaving the room. Javier manages to get the last button in place, then pulls on his black suit jacket.

This isn’t an event that he’ll be late for.

He makes a stop in the kitchen, quickly pouring himself a glass of the strongest whiskey his dad has in the house. He downs it in just a couple of seconds, praying that it’ll be enough to calm him. He can’t stand this shaky feeling, the way his heart feels like it’s going to burst right out of his chest. It almost makes him pick up a cigarette again, but he’s been good about quitting. Besides, he knows you’ll berate him if you smell the smoke on him when he sees you.

When he makes his way outside, his father is already in the passenger seat of the truck. Javier climbs into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. The drive to the church is silent, aside from the radio playing softly. Driving gives him more time to breathe, to really let the gravity of the situation settle in on his shoulders. By the time the tall white steeple appears in his view, he at least doesn’t feel like there’s a twenty pound weight on his chest.

He parks the truck and steps out, not surprised when his father immediately finds someone to chat with. Javier shakes his head slightly and heads inside. A smile finally comes to his lips when he finds your mother standing in the foyer. She’s embracing him before he can even open his mouth to greet her.

“Oh, Javier. You look dashing, honey,” she says, giving him a gentle squeeze before releasing him. He feels a bit of heat come to his cheeks. “She’s in the back room getting ready right now. You should go see her.” Javier nods and looks down the hallway. His heart starts pounding in his chest again as he makes his feet move forward.

When he knocks on the door, he’s met with a face that isn’t yours. She’s one of your college friends that he can never remember the name of, though in his defense he’s only met her once. She immediately recognizes him though, and fully opens the door, finally revealing you to him.

You’re standing in front of the window, the sunlight pooling around you and surrounding you in a heavenly glow. You’ve already donned the white dress and veil. Javier swears in that moment you’re the most holy thing he’s laid eyes on. He can’t stop the tears that blur his vision, especially when you look so relieved to see him.

“Javi...you came…,” you breathe, closing the distance that lies between you both. He immediately opens his arms to you, but he holds you gently, not wanting to mess up your hair or makeup. You’re close to doing the damage yourself with the tears that well up in your eyes. He’s just glad that the rest of your bridal party has left the room, letting him have this last moment alone with you.

“Shhh. Don’t cry, mi estrella. Of course I came. I couldn’t miss your special day,” he whispers. It nearly kills him to say the words.

Because you’re getting married today, but not to him…

You giggle, a soft and musical sound that only makes the aching in his chest grow worse. “It means a lot that you’re here, mi sol. I know you’re a busy man nowadays,” you tell him, putting your hands on his shoulders as you pull back just enough to look him in the eye again. You’re practically radiating happiness. He just wishes that it would rub off on him a little bit.

“Never too busy for you. Congratulations, hermosa. I’m happy for you,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek in his hand. He then indulges himself with one kiss, lightly pressed to your forehead. He closes his eyes against the clenching of his heart. “I’ll leave you to get ready. Te quiero mucho, mi estrella,” he whispers, releasing you.

“Te quiero mucho, mi sol,” you reply, running your hands down his arms until you can take his hands. He nearly comes undone when he feels just how perfectly your little fingers lock with his. He wants to drop to his knees and tell you everything that he’s been holding back since the moment the wedding invitation came in the mail. But you squeeze once, then let him go, beaming up at him as he turns and leaves the room. He says nothing.

He’s dazed as he walks into the sanctuary, and he settles himself in the nearest empty pew, far in the back where it’s less likely that anyone will bother him. Everyone wants to be close to the altar, to watch you and your new husband come together before God and start the next chapter of your life together.

He briefly debates leaving, or at least waiting in the truck until it’s all over, to spare himself from having to watch you leave him. But he knows that if he bails on you, you’ll never forgive him for it. More importantly, he’ll never forgive himself.

Instead, he leans back on the uncomfortable wooden bench, trying to ignore the memories that assault his mind. All of the moments he’s ever shared with you since you were just kids come flooding back to him, reminding him of the mistake he made by never telling you the way he felt. Hell, he’d run away from his own wedding just because he couldn’t see himself as anyone’s husband but yours. But instead of giving you the benefit of knowing that, he’d disappeared to Colombia and never looked back.

Javier clears his throat to keep his emotions at bay, and suddenly becomes aware of the frantic, hushed whispering overtaking the room. Looking down at the watch on his left wrist, he understands why. It’s time.

The music starts, ringing from the antique organ on the balcony above the door. Javier watches as your husband-to-be enters the room with the couple of groomsmen and bridesmaids behind him. He’s a nice enough guy. Javier has had some good conversations with him. The guy loves you. He’ll take care of you. And really, that’s the only saving grace. He knows that he won’t have to worry about you. You’ll get the happily ever after that he knows you’ve been dreaming of your entire life.

And then everyone stands, and the bridal march starts.

Javier feels his throat run dry as he pushes himself to his feet, watching you walk down the aisle on your father’s arm. He watches your eyes roam around the room, not stopping until your gaze settles on him. The eye contact lingers just a second longer than it should, and as soon as you turn away from him again, he comes undone. He can’t hold it together anymore. A single, hot tear slides down his cheek as you pass by him.

Javier lets out a shaking breath as the music finally ends, and he lowers himself to sit again. His hands are clenched into fists as he sits there, wishing there was another way for him to release all of the emotion threatening to explode from him now.

The preacher’s voice echoes through the sanctuary as he begins with a prayer. Javier bows his head, hating that the only thing running through his mind is his begging for a way to fix this. If he could go back and do it all again, you would have never even met this guy. He would have never gotten close to marrying Lorraine. You’d be settled down with a couple of kids on his dad’s land by now. The way that it was supposed to be.

“If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Javier’s head snaps up, realizing that he’d been too lost in his own misery to hear the end of the prayer. He looks up at you, the way that you stand with your hands clasped together with your fiancé’s. It’s a decision that he knows he can’t come back from. He doesn’t care. Either he loses you to marriage or anger. Both are a sentence to eternal perdition.

Javier stands, then steps into the aisle.

There’s a cacophony of horrified gasps, and suddenly all eyes are on him. But he only looks at you, gathering every bit of stubborn courage he’s got.

“Javi?,” you asked, shock evident on your face. Your hands drop to your sides, picking up your dress. You step down the three small stairs of the altar, your face softening in worry as you look at him from across the room. “Javi, what are you doing?”

His heart is pounding so loud he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. It’s so loud that he almost can’t hear you. But he forces himself to take a few steps forward, closer to you.

“Mi estrella…,” he starts. He doesn’t know what to say to you. Here he is, interrupting your wedding, embarrassing you and himself in front of everyone that you know. But he doesn’t regret it. You have to know. He has to tell you.

“I can’t let you do this,” he says. There are more gasps and angry whispers.

You shake your head in confusion. “What? W-Why?,” you ask, stepping closer to him. He hates the way you look at him with soft eyes of concern. He doesn’t deserve that from you. Not now. He deserves for you to be furious, to demand that he leave the ceremony and never speak to you again. You’re too saintly for someone as broken as he is.

His eyes fill with tears again, and that’s the end of it for you. He watches as you walk toward him, down the aisle in your wedding dress to him. And then your hands are cupping his cheeks and trying to find any sign of what might be wrong with him. “Mi sol, please talk to me,” you beg, wiping away his tears with the pads of your thumbs.

“I love you...,” he murmurs, glad that you're close enough to hear him because there’s no way he could force himself to be louder,��...too much to let you be another man’s wife.” He’s finally admitted it. After so many years, he’s finally said the words. And now he’s at your mercy. His hands drop to your hips, and he closes his eyes as he realizes that this very well might be the last time that he ever has you this close to him.

“...Really?”

The desperate whisper that leaves your lips catches him off guard. He opens his eyes, searching them for any indication of what you might be feeling, what might be going through your head as you look up at him.

“Of course, hermosa. I always have,” he whispers.

“You should have told me before.”

“I wanted to. Believe me, but I–” He’s stopped by your fiancé calling your name. You jump in surprise, dropping your hands from his face and turning to look at the other man. Javier takes a step back, giving you room to breathe, to think.

He watches as you look back and forth between him and the altar. There’s fear in your eyes now. Javier hates himself for the pressure that he’s put you under, but he can’t take it back now.

You turn back to face him, tears running down your cheeks, and the sadness in your eyes tells him that it’s over.

He’s lost you.

He turns and starts to walk out of the sanctuary. He can’t bring himself to look back at you. It’ll kill him.

“Mi sol!,” you call. He stops. The sound of your heels clicking on the wooden floor gets louder.

He turns just in time to catch you in his arms. You throw your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. He feels the breath leave his lungs as he clutches you to his chest. His fingers dig gently into the soft skin of your back.

“Mi estrella...,” he chokes, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is long and desperate and full, one that he’ll remember for the rest of his life. Without breaking away from you, he scoops you up into his arms, mindful of your dress as he carries you out of the church.

There’s an uproar in the sanctuary, but he doesn’t care. He’s got you in his arms and he’ll never let you go.

---

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kylorengarbagedump · 5 years ago

Text

Little Bird: Chapter 36 (NSFW)

Read one AO3. Part 35 here. Part 37 here.

Summary: Your bullet wound is tended to. Somehow, Gilead makes things like this even more awkward than normal.

Words: 6600

Warnings: woundplay, bloodplay

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Hiiii! I am so glad to hear people enjoy my self-indulgence, so, here, have some more! Haha. Can't help myself, have loved this shit since I was young. Please forgive me. As usual, I am so grateful for y'all. You truly brighten my day--I feel so lucky to have what I have. I love y'all very much. I try to respond to as many comments as possible. Thank you thank you. TwT <3

You weren’t surprised that Johana was furious when she opened the door to find you, yet again in the arms of your Commander, the both of you drenched with rain and iridescent with blood.

What did surprise you was how quickly this fury crumbled into a trembling, panicked concern.

Her attention darted between your wound and his face, and she moved toward you, half-reaching toward your arm, then thinking better of it. “What--what happened?” She glared at her husband. “What are you doing here? Take her to a hospital!”

Kylo pushed past her, wet boots squeaking on the hardwood, and Johana growled, shutting the door and trailing behind him. His grip was tight, fingers pinching your flesh.

“I’m going to call the ambulance,” she said. “I’m not letting a Handmaid bleed out in our--”

He whirled on her, and you rocked with him, stomach churning with the sudden movement. “Pryde is staging a coup,” he replied. “Until I discover the reach of his influence, there is no safer place than this home.” He paused. “For her. And you.”

Silence lingered for a moment, and Johana’s expression sharpened, lips parting. Her eyes followed the grain of the wall, slow air leaking in her lungs. She glanced at the floor, horror falling like a curtain over her face.

“Commander,” she said, “I…” She swallowed with a frown. “Commander Pryde stopped by the house this morning. He wanted to speak with you. I…” She stepped toward him, chin quivering. “I told him you’d left and hadn’t informed me where you were going, I shouldn't have said anything, I’m sorry--”

“Enough.” Kylo tensed, a wall of muscle against your frame. “It’s irrelevant now. Once she is stable, I’ll be departing with the Knights.” He adjusted you in his hold. “There’s a bullet in her arm.”

Johana gazed at him, hands wringing together, and sighed. Sucking in a long breath, she stepped forward and studied your wound. Your face flushed in embarrassment, expecting admonishment, or even cruelty from her, but it was as if she’d transformed, taken on another skin. She was calculating, cataloging something as she stared, leaning on her toes, humming in thought. There was no evidence of the woman you feared in the person before you--she’d been replaced by a confident, objective analyst.

“Well, there’s no arterial damage,” she said, “she would’ve bled out already. The tourniquet isn’t necessary.” She eased closer, mouth screwing in thought. “Might’ve clipped the humerus, too hard to tell.” Eyes narrowing, she pressed her thumb to the perimeter of the wound, and you seethed--Kylo’s fingers bit into you. “It’s not infected yet. I can clean it. Stitch it. Even if we’re going to keep her out of the hospital, she’ll still need antibiotics. And to rest for at least two weeks.”

“I’ll arrange for it,” he said. “I’ll return when this is resolved. You will be responsible for her.” He shifted close, voice low. “This is an order as your husband. Do you understand?”

Johana nodded, glancing at between the both of you and then to her feet, face pink. “Yes, Commander, I understand.”

“Prepare your supplies.” He turned and strode down the hall.

Kylo carried you through the home into his bedroom, shutting the door and locking it. He eased you to the floor and popped the tourniquet from your arm--you winced at the release of pressure, the new pulse of pain through your nerves. In silence, he crossed to the bathroom, and you heard the squeal of an opening pipe, the gush of a spigot, and blushed. He was running a bath for you.

When he returned, he removed your coat--his coat, technically--and tossed it to the ground, leading you toward the bed with a gentle hand while he gathered the hem of your nightgown and drew it over your frame. It stuck to you like plastic wrapping, leaving damp stains on your skin--and you plopped on the mattress as he guided it over your ribs. He raised your uninjured limb and lifted the rest of the gown over your head, your arm, and then down over your wound. You whimpered as the fabric peeled from your aching flesh, leaving you in your soaked undergarments.

Focused, he took your legs, throwing your socks and shoes to the floor, before looking to your bra, reaching behind you and unhooking it. You were speechless, teeth chattering, pain biting like skeleton claws as you watched your Commander--the man who had just single-handedly slaughtered dozens of soldiers--tend to you like you were the most precious, most delicate creature he’d ever had under his hands. His fingers were firm, soothing you with even the slightest touch, and he met your gaze, sliding his thumbs toward your underwear, warm brandy gleaming in his eyes.

Still trembling, you nodded, and he wedged them free, fabric bunching as it rolled down your thighs, and added them to the sopping pile of clothing on the hardwood. Having finished that, he released you and began to strip himself, starting with his boots and coat, still without words as the mountain of garments grew larger. He was stoic, never once sneaking a glimpse of your body until he was nude, too.

Though you’d cum for him four times already, and though your cunt twinged from the recent stretch of his dick, it was impossible not to revere him, like this, skin smoldering in dim light. Kylo Ren’s broad, crushing power and his beauty were seemingly disparate--yet the clean strength of his body only served to accentuate the elegant curve of his nose, the petal-pink of his lips, the soft, wet waves of his hair. He returned the stare, gaze dancing over your figure, but only in quiet, worried praise, as if you were a damaged triumph of art that was his to repair.

Blinking, he broke away, and walked to check your bath. Inside, you heard the splash of water, a knob adjustment, and he appeared again, silent as he scooped you to his chest. The shivering hadn’t stopped, and now that you could see it, you noticed that the bleeding hadn’t fully stopped, either. It wasn’t a river, more of a weep, tiny trickles pushed from your pulsating flesh as it rippled with every beat of your heart. You couldn’t see the bullet in the red mess of meat--and as you crossed the threshold, you wondered how far down it had gone.

Kylo’s bathroom was wall-to-wall white subway tile, extending to the walk-in shower at the far end, the floor a pattern of black and white ceramic diamonds. The towels, too--whether hung or stowed or folded--were white and black, every accessory a silvered pewter. A ceiling light exposed the steel-grey skies outside, the room illuminated by two incandescent glass sconces above the mirror. The air was hot and thick--water half-filled a large clawfoot tub, and your Commander suspended you above it, lowering you into the bath like you’d splinter from shock.

Relief was immediate, and you sighed, an imitation of a corpse in his arms. Heat engulfed you, sucking the tension from your skin, the steady stream of the spigot drowning your anxious mind. He released you, let you float, and your head rolled along the tub, a soft, satisfied hum escaping your chest. Steam wafted into your sight, and you breathed it in, hoping to fill your lungs with its comfort while Kylo pulled up a wooden stool. He removed the towel folded on top of it and sat, adjusting until he was at your side.

Your cheeks burned as you watched him gather the towel in his hand and pass it under the spigot, mesmerized by the taut muscles in his arms, his back. It was the third time in 24 hours you’d seen him without clothing, and still you salivated for it, each time an entirely new experience to your mind. Ignorant of your admiration, Kylo wrung the towel of excess water and lathered it with soap before gazing at you, face blank--your lip wibbled, your heart skipped. If it weren’t for the gunshot wound in your arm, you’d try to prod yourself awake.

His free hand cupped the back of your neck, eased you up, while the other started at your shoulders, drawing slow, soapy circles down your mottled neck and clavicle, moving to your uninjured arm, cleansing away the cold film left by the rain. He shifted then, to your chest, sitting you straighter, and washed the mud and splattered soil from your breasts and abdomen, caressing you with the cloth, pushing the fear from your flesh. You trembled in the tenderness of his touch, throat tight with emotion you were too terrified to name.

Noticing this, Kylo shushed you, placing his lips to your forehead, murmuring something at your hairline that you couldn’t hear. Prickles of affection blazed through your nerves, your blood racing, and he sat back and lifted one of your legs from the tub, scrubbing it clean, passing the towel over the ticklish soles of your feet. You hid a giggle, wriggling from the contact, and he squeezed your ankle, holding you still until the muck was gone. One leg completed, he switched to another, untarnished section, and repeated the action with the other leg, never once breaking his attention from his task.

With both spotless, he switched sections again, and leaned you forward, rubbing soap into your back, strong thumbs pressing along your shoulder blades as he passed them, massaging down the line of your spine. You groaned, shuddering, goosebumps alight in the wake of his touch. He shushed you again, and washed you over with water, easing you back to the tub before spilling the soap clear from the rest of your body. The warmth flooded you, eyes fluttering in delight before settling on him.

His brow furrowed, and he lifted your wounded arm, coasting across it with a new patch of cloth, skimming the sensitive skin, brushing away the sludge and caked blood, revealing fresh, pink flesh. Your free limbs tweaked, and you grimaced in pain, but kept otherwise still, choosing to fixate on his pursing lips, how meticulous he’d become in his movements. Baffling, how this one man was both the blunt-end of a bludgeon and the precise feather fountain-pen--as deft with his hands as he was deadly. The last of the grime was wiped free, Kylo scrutinized his work, folded the towel over, and wet a clean swatch.

He then cradled your head, weaving through your hair, focus following his fingers while he wiped your storm-smattered face, swiping at your lips, under your lids, the rust smeared on your chin. As he dabbed your nose, he glimpsed you, and your lungs stalled in memory of the first time he’d done this--the first time he’d ever made you feel human, the first time he’d ever made you feel cherished. You gazed at him, your chest thumping with an appreciation so swollen you were afraid it would split through your sternum at a pinprick’s pressure. Kylo blinked, averted his eyes, and with a soft pat of your cheek, he sat back, appraising, his own face still sullied with crusted crimson.

Words wouldn’t find you. You grabbed for the towel instead, taking it from him and sitting straight. Swallowing your nerves, you preened the loose strands of hair from his face and swept the cloth over his forehead, down his nose--he froze under your touch, his irises clouded with confusion. Hands quaking, you continued, smoothing over his cheekbones, along the line of his jaw, scraping away the remnants of battle. His mouth twitched, his throat knocked, and when you finished, you draped the towel over the tub’s edge.

Finally meeting his stare, you exhaled, stroked his face with your thumb, tracing the edge of his scar. It was lithe, almost lovely in its length, cresting down his neck and over his collarbone, a rose-gold crack on his alabaster skin. Yet what made it beautiful was its origin, its legacy--the knowledge that he’d earned it in the act of saving you.

His eyes were liquid amber, gilded rims glimmering with a feeling you could only identify as gratitude, a reflection of the recognition you felt in your soul. It was an acknowledgement that in this mire of madness, you were thankful for each other, thankful that through the suffocating strangle of Gilead’s air, you’d discovered breath in the other’s embrace. He glanced at your mouth, and you wet it--something distant and familiar lingered on your tongue. Before you could give it life, Kylo tugged you by the neck and against his lips.

The kiss was tentative, exploratory, his mouth skipping over yours, testing your need, ghosting tingles at your nerves. You whimpered into him, clutching the back of his head, skating nails over his scalp as you returned his ardor, your tongue out slipping to taste him--he tilted his head, capturing you, his own tongue rolling slowly over yours. A quiet groan escaped him, and he pulled you closer, holding your head in both of his enormous hands, one stroking through your hair, the other keeping you still as his mouth grazed you. Your thighs braced together, forcing friction as fire dripped like oil between your legs.

Kylo guided you back to the tub, chasing you, never increasing his insistence, taking time to brand you in dedication, rather than desire. Humming with pleasure, his tongue slid past your teeth, and the hand in your hair glided down your neck, over your shoulder, gripping it, as if to prove you were alive. You shivered, worked your lips over his like he was to be savored, flesh plumping from the pressure--underneath the running water, the only noises were your and his hidden breath, and the slick sound of your meeting mouths. Passion crept through you now, signaling a need that, despite having been more than sated this morning, was happy to awaken from its slumber.

You shifted closer, growing needy--the sudden movement speared your arm with agony, and you yelped, breaking the kiss. Kylo nuzzled you with his forehead.

“Do you want relief?” His hand traveled from your shoulder, inching down your chest. “From the pain.”

Tremored, eager air left your lungs. “Yes.” You nodded. “Please.”

He pressed his lips to yours as his hand fell to your breast, groping it absently, thumb petting your pebbling nipple. You squirmed, releasing a moan, and he silenced you with his mouth, kneading your tit, making your stomach tighten with hunger. Giving a nip to your bottom lip, he kissed across your cheek, huffing into your ear while his hand dipped into the water and drifted over the rolls of your belly.

“Be a good girl for me.” Long fingers crawled over your mound, and you nodded, legs parting in welcome. “There we go...”

Two digits trailed up and down your outer folds, teasing them, and you gasped, throwing your good arm around his neck--his breath was slow and quiet at your ear, the baritone resonance of his voice rumbling through you. One finger drew up your slit, glancing over your clit, and you squeaked, core clamoring for more.

“That’s it.” His mouth moved to your cheekbone, following your jaw. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” He licked up your pulse. “You’re gorgeous.”

Gooseflesh erupted over your skin, vision fuzzing with joy. “Even… even like this?” You nodded toward your wound.

“Mm.” Kylo kissed your throat, prying open your folds, probing your layers. “Especially like this.”

His thumb grazed your clit, and you whined, jerking him closer--he growled and taunted your entrance, swirling a single digit in its slick, daring to press in only half a centimeter. Your hips shifted, cunt craving more, but he refused to yield, thumb passing your nub with long, torturous strokes.

“I know men who’ve broken over a bullet.” He wiggled in another half-centimeter, and you clenched. “But you haven’t shed a tear.” More kisses to your throat, suckling at your heartbeat. “My brave little bird."

Heat rushed you in waves--at this rate, he'd have you cumming without even having to go inside of you. "Why should I be afraid?" you whispered. "I have you."

His breath hitched, and he plunged in, curling inside of you--a sigh left you as you throbbed around him, even knowing one finger wouldn't be enough. You adjusted your weight on his neck, bringing him closer, letting your injured arm dangle out of the tub.

"That's right. And you’re being so good for me," he murmured. "Getting so wet. Always ready for me to make you cum..."

Kylo slipped out, then pushed back in, then out, and in again, relishing in the tight ridges of your cunt as he stretched you open. You bucked your hips, trying to fuck him in rhythm, water sloshing in the bath--but he dodged you, forcing you to meet his pace, swiping back and forth over your clit in little bolts of bliss while he exhaled in excitement.

"Relax." His mouth moved from your neck to your shoulder, teeth dragging new welts over your clavicle. "I thought you were going to be my good girl."

You swallowed and stilled. It was hard to control yourself when the rush of pleasure was numbing everything else. "I-I will. I'm sorry."

"Better." Kylo caught your lips in a brief kiss, rewarding you with a second finger, crooking them both inside of you--you cried out, spasming in delight. "Fuck. How does a cunt this little take me so well, hm?" Another kiss, lingering. "Just thinking about how tight you are makes my cock hard." He smirked against your mouth. "You know I think about it whenever I wake up. And before I go to sleep."

You whinged, lava boiling in your blood--you wanted to melt into the water, liquefy in his hands. "Oh..."

"That's right," he said. "I make myself cum every morning thinking about fucking you. And it's never enough." He was panting, kissing back down your neck, to your chest again. "I could fuck this pussy every night for the rest of my life and it wouldn't be enough…"

“Kylo…”

Your brain swarmed with that distant feeling again, dizzying you, robbing you of language, weakening your joints. You clung to him, a raft in the sea of your lust, choking back your moans as his palm rocked against you, thumb circling your clit, fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt--you let your lids close, let pleasure encompass you, let yourself submerge to his will, trusting him to give you exactly what you needed. His lips scorched your shoulder, singeing a path toward your wound, but you were too rapt to notice, too elated to care.

When he kissed it, something snapped--perhaps it was the plush of his mouth on the tender tissue, perhaps it was the ecstasy already seizing your sanity, or perhaps it was the delicious slice of pain twisting through it all. Whatever it was, you sobbed, back arching, pussy clamping down on his hand like it would sever him clean, head thrown back in a plea. Kylo stopped, purring with satisfaction, lifting his pretty, stained scarlet lips from your arm. You met his eyes, shaking, too embarrassed to say a word.

Thankfully, he appeared too engrossed to further humiliate you, kissing the top of your shoulder before falling to your wound again--he rolled his fingers inside of you, rubbing the bundle of nerves in tight, quick strokes, and let his mouth sketch the edge of your injured flesh. You winced, writhed, jaw dropping in an open, continuous pant, and he licked light lines around it, lapping the seeping blood; when you clenched again, he slipped his tongue into the hole.

Your sight went white, you collapsed in the bath, a mix of scream and squeal shredding your throat. The sensation was a knife, carving bliss into your skin, your cunt pulsing with greed as your Commander laved you from the inside. Everything blanked, your only reality consisting of the thumb caressing your stiffened clit, the fingers pumping into your throbbing pussy, the tongue digging absolute pure pleasure-pain into your veins. Your hands furled into fists, teeth cutting your lip while you fought to find yourself in the hurricane that had replaced your brain.

“Kylo,” you whimpered, as it was the only word you could remember, “Kylo, Kylo…”

“Good girl.” He moaned, lavishing hot, open kisses at the frayed flesh. “So good for me, so perfect--”

“Please.” Your lips buzzed, unsure what you were even asking for. “Please, I--”

Somehow knowing what you needed before you did, Kylo’s bloody mouth met yours, his thumb worming through your wound, and you shrieked into him--he swallowed every cry, painting iron along your tongue, kissing you in anxious fervor. Your orgasm bubbled with volcanic intensity, gravitation at your core, absorbing each spark of nerve and billowing to something so powerful that you were afraid you would shatter if it burst.

Kylo nudged his digit deeper, pain ricocheting to your cunt, while his other hand flicked your clit fast, stuffed a third thick finger into your pussy, coiling and delving and fucking you wide, and you suffocated in his kiss, winding your tongue around his, gasping, groaning, and he drove into your hole, filling everything inside--you ruptured, ecstasy exploding through you, escaping in euphoric shrieks into his throat, happily consumed by the voracity of his mouth. He led you through it, easing his thumb free, rubbing you through the aftershocks of your climax as you descended, crumpling limp in the water’s warmth, chasing his gentle, lazy lips.

By the time you’d regained control of your faculties, you’d realized he’d pulled out of you and turned off the spigot, leaving you to soak in a bath that had risen past your breasts. And he was still catching his breath--through your daze of disbelief, you saw him stroking his hard, needy cock, pounding it to his own release. Kylo sought your mouth again, but you shifted away, enthralled by the sight of your Commander, cheeks flush, jaw dropped, thrusting into his fist. He huffed with a half smirk, leaning back, allowing you to see the contractions of his stomach, the flexing in his chest.

“You like that?” He pushed the skin to the head, coaxing a drop of precum from the slit, smearing it over his shaft. “Is this making you feel good?”

Your mind was mush. All you could think to do was nod.

“Fuck…” Kylo’s pupils were blown, his chest heaving. “Then you can remember this when I’m gone. Think of me like this.” He rolled his palm around his length, tugging it faster. “Think of me fucking myself because of you.”

Saliva pooled from your cheeks, your eyes pinned to the muscular slabs of his legs, how they spread and framed his cock, long and thick and beautiful, how his hand wrapped around it with a soft shuffle, how his flesh bounced with the effort. You could see the peaking tide of unadulterated pleasure, his face obscene with it--his head dropped onto his shoulders, his thighs tensed, hand a blur over his dick.

“Fuck… fuck.” His voice was shredded with bliss. “You want to watch me cum, little girl?”

“Y-yes…”

His lids closed, he gasped. “Tell me to cum.”

You almost choked. “Christ. C-cum for me, Kylo--”

Kylo Ren snarled your name, gripping his cock as it twitched and pulsed between his legs, sticky cum shooting in spurts onto his sternum, roping over his abdomen. He groaned, jerking himself into sensitivity, sucking in a deep breath as his hand slowed, head falling forward, the tail of his climax dissipating. When he was finished, he exhaled, paused, and gathered some of his seed onto his fingers. Your throat thickened--and he held you in his stare, sucking them clean.

No words would come to you. Between the still-crackling cinders of your orgasm and the image of him eating his own cum, you’d temporarily lost your ability to speak. Kylo smirked--he kissed you a final time before tucking a lock of wet hair behind your ear and rising to his feet.

Your Commander walked to the sink and grabbed a towel, wiping away the remaining blood and cum and debris. In the valley of post-climactic rapture, watching him--this man, your savior and enslaver--you yearned for that moment in the cemetery, before you’d been shot. The moment when it seemed as if he’d considered you--a moment you felt him echo when he’d said every night for the rest of my life. You sank into the bath, that nagging, terrifying feeling welling within you again. You shoved it down, knowing that to name it while still wading in uncertainty would damn you to despair.

“Um. What you said earlier. Is that something you’d want?” you asked. “To… have me? Every night? For...” The rest of the words wouldn’t leave, stuck like impossible barbs on your tongue.

He said nothing, taking a swig of water from the sink and swishing it in his mouth before spitting it into the basin in a pink spray.

“I think we could do it.” You were being careful--but you were less afraid of his words than your own. “We could have that.”

Still silent, he took a fresh towel and rustled it through his hair, whipping excess water from the curls.

“I know you believe in destiny,” you said. “But what if you have two?” He stilled--you continued. “What if… I saw another path. Where you--where we were free?”

Kylo Ren glanced over his shoulder, considering you. There was not a single hint of emotion in his expression. Your chest tightened.

“It would make me happy,” you murmured. “What about you?”

His gaze fell, wandering the tile, the walls, until it led him to the mirror. He stared into himself, like a stranger to his own reflection, jaw steeling. Rain rattled the skylight, thunder crashing through the clouds, a rumbling of the past--he remained there for a moment, inspecting his face, searching for something, wallowing in recollection. His back crested, muscles hardened, and he tore away, eye twitching as he looked back to you.

“There are greater issues to rectify,” he said, and left the room.

Wilting, you slid deeper into the water, keeping your arm tossed over the edge. It wasn’t that you had expected him to drop it all and agree, like a hero from some romance--yes, darling, let’s steal away at midnight--but you had hoped for some concession, some inkling of hope that he wanted to sustain what was unsustainable. Yet, in the back of your mind, you both understood there was only one way he could do that. And it would involve abandoning everything he’d ever known.

The question you weren’t willing to answer was how you’d balance your willingness to wait with reality. Running was not an option, now--not as long as your Commander had both the will and the governmental power to find and keep you. No matter his compromises, the existence of Gilead meant his inherent rejection of your agency, his unwillingness to let you go, despite it being your only wish.

And every second wasted translated to years of lives hanging in turmoil. The next time you met with the Resistance, you knew you’d do whatever they asked to help them cripple Gilead. One way or the other, they would bring you your freedom. You just hoped that by the time they were ready, a time that could be days or weeks or years, he’d be coming with you.

Some might think you were asking too much--for him to relinquish his power, destroy as much as he could in the process, escape with you into anonymity--but the Kylo Ren you knew was capable of anything. You’d ask for all of it, or ultimately accept none.

Of course, you’d need to heal from this damn gunshot, first.

Kylo returned, dressed and dry, adjusting the cuffs on his coat. “Two Knights will remain in my absence. Johana will care for your wound and get you to rest.”

“Oh,” you said, starting to stand, “okay--”

“Don’t move.”

Confused, you stopped, splashing into the tub. Johana couldn’t see you naked, and especially not while you were covered in his hickeys and bite marks. “But--”

“A precaution,” he said. “To protect your temperature.”

“But...” You folded your free arm over your chest. Your options were paltry few, and inviting in a strange, possibly deceptive doctor, one without any personal investment in your well-being, seemed even less appealing. “Okay.”

“You will be safe.” He scanned your body in the bath. “Be good, little bird.”

A jumble of words waited on your tongue: Be safe, be careful, I’ll miss you, I…

Instead, you only nodded. “I will.”

He met your gaze a final time in silent regard, and turned to leave. You listened to the sound of his boots cross the floor, wondering how the water had made it into your eyes. Blinking, you wiped your cheeks. You weren’t sure how long you laid there after your Commander had left--only that when you heard the creak of the bedroom door, steam had fled the air, and your breathing had evened out.

When Johana entered the bathroom, she brought a tote with her, avoiding you entirely as she plopped it next to the sink and washed her hands. Finished that, she pushed her sleeves to her elbows and grabbed a pair of gloves from the bag, pulling them on before fishing through it again. Chewing her cheek, she procured a needle, a pair of tweezers and scissors, a few square packets, dental floss, a roll of gauze, two tiny white tubes, and a small plastic bottle of clear liquid. She laid them out on a towel, picked it up, turned to you--and nearly flung all of it across the room.

“Jesus Christ.” Her face contorted in a mix of disgust and dismay--she went to say something else, but shrugged it off, heading to the stool and sitting down.

You blushed, taking a quick inventory of your chest. Yes, it definitely looked like an animal had savaged your upper-torso--and, in a way, that’d been exactly what happened. Settling on silence, you stared at your feet. There were no words you could think to say that would ease the awkwardness of her acknowledging the evidence of her husband’s illegal affair.

Johana sighed, took one of the tubes, squeezed its contents onto a gloved finger and rubbed it over your wound. You squeaked in pain, watching as it worked into a lather before she took the bottle of liquid and squirted it over your skin (water, to your relief). Stone faced, she patted it down with gauze before grabbing the needle and one of the packets--an alcohol wipe, you now realized. You frowned.

“Wait,” you said. “Aren’t you going to… um. Remove the bullet.”

She snorted. “Not unless you’re interested in bleeding out in the bathtub.” Tearing the packet open, she plucked the wipe free. “Digging around could further traumatize the wound,” she said. “It’s safer to leave embedded projectiles where they are.”

“Oh.”

Her brow furrowed as she sanitized the needle. ��Yes, oh.” Contrition flashed over her face. “Not that you had any reason to know that.”

Regret puddled in your heart--not for what you’d done, but that you’d both been placed in this hell at all. At least you’d had a distraction in the form of the Commander. Johana had been floundering alone for, maybe, the past three entire years. You knew she was miserable, knew that you’d seen a moment’s hesitation before she’d stolen the switchblade. Even if that object was long-gone, if you could soften her, even a little, maybe she’d hear you out. Maybe freedom was a possibility for all of you in the home--the Marthas included.

“I’m sorry,” you said, nodding toward your chest. “I wasn’t expecting--”

“Don’t really care.” She wound out a string of floss from its container. “The faster you get pregnant, the better.”

“Is that why you won’t report me? Or the Commander?” you asked. “You just want me to get pregnant?”

“Yes.” Narrowing her focus, she held up the needle in one hand and the floss in the other before glimpsing you. “And no.” She paused. “It’s not like you’re the worst Handmaid I’ve had.”

A reluctant grin pulled at your lips. “The dinner party?”

“Ha!” It wasn’t a true laugh--more like a squawk. “The only other person who has ever talked to Commander Hux like that is my husband.” Pride twinkled in her eye. “But seeing his reaction to you was even better.”

You chuckled. “Was he always such a bastard?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Always.” Her mouth opened to speak, but she said nothing.

Silence descended over the bathroom; thunder rumbled under the shower of rain. Johana looked between the floss and your wound.

“Anyway, the Commander’s preoccupation with you won’t be a problem once you give birth.” She tossed it and unfurled a longer strand. “And I know you can’t help yourself anyway.”

“Ms. Johana, please.” You sighed. “Do you really care about him?” you asked. “I mean. Even after…” Invoking her dead husband’s name seemed tacky. So you didn’t.

She rolled her eyes. “What does it matter?”

You shrugged your good shoulder. “I just…” Quiet, you sought out her gaze. “You really loved him.”

“I did,” she said. “So what? He’s dead now.”

“How did you meet him?”

Johana didn’t respond, focused on threading the needle, taking one, two, three attempts before the floss passed through the eye. Blowing frustrated air through her nose, she wiped tweezers down before using it to pinch the needle. Turning to your arm, she went to poke you--and paused.

“Church.” Her voice was soft. “I met him in church.”

Using two fingers, she compressed the sides of the wound together--you flinched--and pierced the bottom, pulling the strand of floss through. It was a tiny nip, hardly comparable to the pain of the wound itself. You shook the discomfort away.

“What was he like? Ah--”

“Stop squirming.” Johana exhaled, looping the floss and making another stitch. “Very traditional,” she said. “Very organized.” A tiny smirk eked over her lips. “Very bossy.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

She fought the urge to smile. “Oh, he was funny about it,” she said. “He liked things to be a certain way. He was always teasing me for fussing until it was perfect.” For a moment, she looked content, sapphire glittering in her irises, face glowing as she slipped the needle through again. “He had high expectations. I could always meet them.”

“Oh.” Kylo Ren, you imagined, was a devastatingly unfair change of pace. “It must be hard. The Commander seems so different.”

Like fog, the facade of peace faded, revealing the vacant, tired bags beneath her eyes. “He is.” She jabbed you, perhaps a little harder than intended--you winced. “But...”

You frowned. “But?”

Johana’s hands froze, and she swallowed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She said nothing more, face drawn in focus as she made another stitch, and another. You watched, almost in awe of her nimble fingers; you knew for certain it’d been over three years since she would have last done this, and probably longer than that. If you hadn’t known her in the context of being your Commander’s Wife, you never would have guessed it.

“Being a nurse was probably tough.”

A short, tight laugh caught in her throat. “Dealing with bureaucratic red tape and doctors all day? Yeah. I don’t miss it.” Her tone softened, and she shrugged. “But I was good at it.”

“I can tell.”

“I’d hope so. I was top of my...” She sighed, rolling her eyes again. “Whatever.” With the tweezers, she wreathed the floss in on itself, made a knot, and tied it off. “I don’t have the luxury of surgical thread.” A snip as she cut the loose ends with the scissors. “This will pop if you’re not careful.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

Exhaling, she took the second white tube and collected a clear gel from its tip, spackling it over your sutures like paste. Satisfied, she then grabbed the gauze, binding your arm in several rotations before cinching it tight. For a moment, she stared at it, and then peeled off her gloves and rolled up the towel with all of her supplies. She brought it to her tote and stuffed it inside before marching out of the room, leaving the bag on the sink.

Beyond the door, you heard her shuffling in the bedroom, and you let loose a long, disappointed sigh. She’d been a tougher nut to crack than you anticipated. It wasn’t as if you were queen of mind games, but you’d at least expected her to be intrigued by the chance to open up to anybody other than her pillow. But perhaps you couldn’t blame her for not trusting you when you kept showing up to her home with increasingly bizarre injuries.

Johana entered the bathroom again, a heavy, black robe in her arms. “I don’t have one that will fit you.” She flopped it open, held it out. “He’s never worn it, anyway.”

You stared. “Oh.”

“Don’t just oh,” she said. “Come on.”

With a wobble, you eased yourself to your feet, steadying with the wall as you stepped out of the tub and into the robe, allowing her to bundle you in it. Johana guided you with a hand on your back to Kylo Ren’s bed and observed while you climbed on.

Offering a restrained grin, you said, “I know you don’t like me. And that I keep getting hurt. But thank you.”

“It was an order. I follow them.” Her gaze traveled your figure, and she sighed, grabbing one of the pillows and fluffing it. “Look. I don’t--I don’t dislike you.” She wedged it behind your back. “I just don’t get why he keeps doing all of this. I don’t know what he sees in you.”

You frowned, face hot. For once, you actually felt insulted. “Maybe it’s because I see something in him,” you replied, bending so she could fluff another. “Something that you might not care to see, anyway.”

She balked, shoving it under your shoulders. “What are you talking about? We’ve been married for three years.”

“And you’ve never stopped loving Moden that entire time.”

Johana paused and looked at you, propped upright along the headboard. You sat there, smothered in your robe, supported by cushions, constricted in a full-body cast of cotton. Her gaze drifted to the floor, and she raised her brow in thought, folding her arms over her chest. There it was--the gap in her shell.

“Maybe it’s all for the same reason,” you said. “The fact that you still love him. The fact that the Commander seems attached to me. The fact that I keep getting caught up in... everything.” You held your breath, and let it go. “Maybe it’s all because this entire thing is just… bullshit.”

She blinked. Then glanced up. “You might be right.” Her fingers burrowed into her arms. “But Moden expected me to get remarried if he passed. And he expected me to carry on what he couldn’t.” She swallowed, jaw tensing. “I don’t intend to disappoint him.”

With that, she spun, flouncing into the bathroom to grab her tote, and crossed to the bedroom door. She met your eyes in silence before staring at the hardwood. A weight, laden with deferred, unrealized, and deadened dreams, suspended between you. Shaking her head, Johana opened the door, slipped into the hall, and shut it behind her.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #fanfiction problems #handmaid au #woundplay #bloodplay

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